#if you find it sleeps really warm you can get a nicer one but even cheap ones can help if the beds too hard

[foldingfittedsheets]

Hey. This isn’t important or anything but I wanted to say I really appreciate your knowledge re: mattresses ‘cause I figured that maybe my mattress is too firm for me and I got a cheap mattress topper (can’t trust everything you read on the internet and I figured if it didn’t work I’d only be down a few bucks) but I’ve slept better now than I have in the past several years after developing chronic pain and it means a lot. This is something I would never have even thought about and no one else even mentioned, so I felt like I should thank you. Anyway, have a lovely day!

That makes me so happy!!! I’m so glad you’re sleeping better. Every time I think “Man, following me must get so boring when I’m just yammering about beds” I get nice comments that it helped improve someone’s life.

[hamsternella]

PLEEEEASE a nsfw alphabet for Stanford??🥺

SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG

Stanford Pines NSFW Alphabet

A= Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Despite the tiredness and embarrassment once the heat of the moment wears off, Ford goes to great lengths to wrap you in his arms and hold you tight against his chest, where you can hear his heartbeat. He likes to let you know how well you did, and how much he loves you. Caresses and kisses, as well as laughter and sweet whispers until falling asleep are never lacking.

B= Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ford would always say his brain. He is a cool, methodical person who almost always finds a way to achieve great results. Thinking and ingenuity are like breathing to him. But of course in this case that's not the answer; considering that the last thing he can use is his brain when he has you in front of him. It is as if only his heart exists, beating wildly at the sight of the most beautiful and inexplicable thing he has been able to witness in his entire existence: you.

That being the case, he can't find any other part of himself that he likes enough. Maybe his hands, because he knows how much you love it when he touches you. And if it's you, it would be everything—Ford is unable to pick just one part of your body. If he had to, maybe it would be your waist; because he loves to grab you with both hands from that spot to keep you still, under or on top of him, and at whatever pace he can best get those sweet sounds out of you that fascinate him so much.

C= Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cums a lot and hard. Preferably inside you or on your face; sometimes pushing a little with his fingers to fill your mouth with his cum. He loves it when you clean his hand with your tongue.

D= Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Ford would never tell you—there's a reason it's a secret. But do you still remember those times when you couldn't find your underwear, and suspiciously it was during the weekdays when Ford took care of the laundry, and oddly enough he took all the time in the world to iron and put the laundry away...? Yeah, well. I think you know what I mean. Don't mention to him how obvious it is that he's been stealing your underwear to masturbate with it. Don't tell him, really.

Also don't mention that you've actually felt him cling to you when you sleep; looking for more than just warmth at night. Don't tell him that you clearly feel him down there—hard and warm.

Or do. Who knows what might happen.

E= Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Technically no experience at all. Of course he had gotten to kiss other women, maybe a little touch with one or two, but that was many, many years ago; by now he hardly remembers anything at all. Besides he was very young; he used to think differently and be busier with his research. Now that the world is at peace and he can enjoy the calm and family life, it is more than obvious that the only thing he has to defend himself at the beginning of the relationship is all theoretical. It's not a terrible thing, of course. Ford is willing to experiment and learn with you.

F= Favorite position

There are still many positions to try and discover, but the most used —for comfort and practicality— are three par excellence.

Doggy, because nothing is nicer than being able to see you under him, with your ass and waist at his disposal to play to his heart's content.

Cowgirl/Cowboy, because even though he loves making love to you, Ford has to accept that at his age it's hard to stay steady all the time. Sometimes he needs a little help from you to avoid looking pathetic for getting tired after so much action—even if you tell him there's nothing pathetic about it. Besides, don't you look lovely on top of him, with your body shaking and your eyes glazed over? Best view of all.

Spooning, because Ford goes crazy holding you from behind, pushing his hips against your ass; with one of his hands working over your body and his lips on your neck, waking you up from a long night of deep sleep. This man is desperate to touch you.

G= Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Ford is quite serious during the moment, but this is because he is a very shy person about approaching you to begin with. Even if it comes to playing along with you he is the first and last to get embarrassed. An occasional nervous laugh; sometimes little choked sentences if he notices you looking at him too much, and that makes him lose his concentration. But in general he is someone very focused, who seeks not to lose the thread of the moment. His biggest fear is disappointing you.

H= Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

A lot of things happened and he hasn't had the time, nor the desire, to get down to work there. That being the case, I'd say hairy; but at least he's started to take the time to trim it down a bit and make it halfway nice for you. If it's something that would bother you, Ford is willing to trim it further—even all of it.

But yeah. Super hairy.

I= Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Ford takes care to be careful with everything he does or says, always seeking to satisfy the needs of your body and mind; every fantasy you have closely tied to everything he does to make you feel fulfilled. He is a dedicated man, with nimble hands and a sensitive heart. Sweet and witty words are never lacking, always driving you crazy in his arms and against his lips. Sensuality is never in short supply.

J= Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He's been starting to do it more often since he's been with you. Not a lot, because he prefers to do it with you; but once in a while never hurts if he can't get you out of his head. He needs at least something of yours to make him cum—your underwear or the warmth of your body. He needs you.

He cums fast and hard, with the piece of clothing against his face, inhaling intensely; or with a free hand on your body, against your skin.

K= Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Definitely role-playing and cockwarming.

L= Location (favorite places to do the do)

Private places, if possible. Ford doesn't want to risk the possibility of being seen by someone else. He loves to have you in the bedroom, or even in his study room. Any place where no one and nothing will interrupt you.

M= Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

To see you in his clothes, to hear your voice, to come on to him... to suddenly appear dressed for some sensual and perverse role-playing... My goodness, how you drive him crazy.

Ford is a simple guy: he sees his partner existing and making eyes at him, and suddenly he feels his body warm and ready to go.

N= No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Threesomes, because he can't accept the idea of seeing you with someone else, let alone seeing himself with someone other than you. Ford is also unwilling to degrade you or physically harm you; just as he does not find it attractive to allow the same to be done to him.

O= Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Ford loves to receive oral, but he prefers to give it. He loves to put his mouth down there, tasting you and pulling out sounds that haunt him in his best dreams. You are a delight. Even if he's inexperienced, he's so desperate to have you in his mouth that the guy learns in no time to meet your expectations. There's no way not to lose your mind when Ford is taking care of everything between your legs; with his hands holding you by the flesh of your thighs, with his fingers caressing your skin.

Imagine his face if you proposed sitting on it. Imagine that, I insist. It's the best.

P= Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual; deep and hard. Getting all the way in, Ford always gives a little push to press himself against you, hiding his face in the space of your neck. He will talk to you through this—be prepared for a couple of whimpers and muffled moans.

Q= Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn't like them at all. He prefers to take his time with you. Although if you are very needy, then maybe he can find a way.

R= Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Ford loves to experiment! And with that always comes risk. But when it comes to sex, this all takes a different turn; and while he's willing to try new things and experiment with you, he'll always be against anything that might hurt you or make you both uncomfortable.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The years and the various experiences out in the open have weathered Ford, and have made him a man with a lot of physical capacity to endure long hours without sleep and with a lot of work. Research work, of course; the physical stuff has always been for fighting or survival.

With this in mind, Ford is able to handle quite a bit of foreplay and sex itself, but he tires quickly after a second round—if the first one wasn't strong enough. Even if he feels he can't go on, he has no problem helping you by using his hands or mouth; as well as any other part of his body that comes in handy. Hopefully and maybe there will be another round if you manage to turn him on one more time.

T= Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Ford doesn't need toys. He only needs you. Now, if in a hypothetical case you would like to use one, he has no problem even designing his own to use with you. At first you tell him no, because it's easier to buy them; but after seeing some plans and listening to him talk so excitedly, seeing that he even starts to consider the idea of implementing other things when it comes to sex, you come to the conclusion that maybe it's not so bad.

Ford opts to use toys on you, not him. They don't get his attention that way.

U= Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not so much, really. He thinks it's cute to see you being so desperate for him. But at the end of the day it's something that makes him desperate too. Ford couldn't stand to play with you like this for long; he needs to accede to your needs in order to satisfy his own.

V= Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Whimpers A LOT, and likes to moan loudly—but tries to drown them out, fearful that someone might hear them.

If the two of you are in a place where you can be sure not to be overheard, Ford sets out to talk to you during the act.

W= Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He's unexpected and always manages to sweep you off your feet, but Ford is capable of the hottest dirty talk you can imagine. When you least expect it you have him with his lips on your ear, his hot breath on your skin, and his husky, deep voice of desire spitting out dirty, kinky phrases that keep you with your hands pushing against his chest; his fingers pressing against the skin of your neck, surprising you with how much this man can separate himself from the real world and let you drown in his darkest fantasies.

Ford prefers not to talk about it after everything calms down. It will take some time.

X= X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Not as long, but definitely fat. The tip is quite sensitive. Slightly curved downward.

Y= Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Since he discovered how fascinating your touch is, quite high. Although it's more what he desires than what he can get to do. If he gets careless, he comes quickly. It's fun to play on his desperation and make him wait; that might help him endure his neediness with you a little longer.

Z= Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Pretty fast; but he strives to see that you're okay after all, and that you're resting with him. His priority is you, after all.

[daenysx]

hi hello!! i've just found your blog and i adore it and your writing! <3 do you mind if i request remus lupin or james potter (whichever you prefer) with a reader who has excruciating period cramps? thank you sm!! :)

hi gorgeous, thank you for being so nice!! i once wrote a period fic with james, this is the remus version, i hope you like them both <3333

remus lupin x fem!reader

remus makes you another cup of hot tea, but he's not sure if you can drink it.

it breaks his heart, the way you try to lay down on your bed but being unable to relax. your entire body is tense, he knows the effects of your period by heart now. he also knows it's useless to try to cheer you up when you can't even feel your legs properly. he only wants you to get over the first three days which are always the hardest to get through.

"hi, pretty girl." he comes next to you with your tea. "i made you some tea."

"thank you, remus." you say, trying to sit up. remus helps you. "thanks."

"here you go." he holds the cup for you. it's too hot. "i hope this helps a bit."

you take a sip. your boyfriend is lovely with his wide eyes, his eagerness to do anything to make you feel better. the tea is nice. it would be nicer if your cramps weren't so bad.

"oh!" you suddenly hold your belly. the pain is always shocking, catches you unexpectedly. remus gets the cup from your hands. he knows it's for the best to stay calm, you're already hurting, he doesn't need to be another thing for you to worry about.

"it's okay, dove." he tries. "can i hold you?"

you nod. "please." he opens his arms to get you. putting your head on his shoulder, you give another painful sound coming deep from your throat. remus keeps his hands on your back.

"it's okay, it'll pass." he whispers against your head with a huge hand rubbing your back. "do you wanna go to the bathroom?"

you shake your hand, blinking tears back. "no. maybe later. i don't think i can stand up."

"tell me when you want to go, okay? i'll help you."

your hand finds remus's, he squeezes your fingers. he kisses your hair the way you like, too many kisses all at once. he's so warm, you lean against his heat to feel him. "i'm okay." you say. he nods, looking at you to see if you mean it.

"can we cuddle?" he asks, his eyes are pleading. "if you're okay to lie down?"

"okay." you say. "i just- my legs hurt, i don't feel too comfortable."

remus is a quick thinker. he likes to think he knows what he's doing when it comes to holding you, there are too many positions you like but when you are on your period, he needs to be the one to take the weight off you. he lies down, gets you in his arms as you put your leg on his legs. remus puts your head on his chest, his long arms securely wrapped around your shoulders.

"good?" he asks. you nod, and he smiles. "i'm gonna rub your back, okay? tell me if anything hurts, dove."

"it's nice." you say, because it really is. his fingers know your body so well, he also knows where to put pressure and where to be kind. you force yourself to relax on him. sleep usually distracts you, it can work right now. you make quiet noises which guide remus to see if he's doing okay. he rubs your poor muscles until his hand goes numb.

"my tea got cold." you say, sadly.

"i can always make you a new one." remus says with a huge kiss on your forehead. "don't worry about it, sweetheart."

you hum quietly, press a little kiss on his clothed chest. remus's fingers go through your hair now, he braids a little piece to help you relax, you still don't know how he does it with one hand. the next few minutes are quiet but neither of you are uncomfortable because of the silence. you like remus's peaceful aura, he brings relief to your painful times, he keeps his cool. you are tired but never tired enough to not kiss his neck and show him how much you adore him.

another cramp hits you. it's not as painful as the earlier but you feel it deeper in your muscles because you lay down. you snuggle closer to remus, trying to bury yourself to his warmth until it passes.

remus cups your cheek. "you're doing so good." he says. "i know it hurts too much but try to focus on me, yeah? maybe you'll feel better if you sleep."

you feel so desperate and so needy for his affirmation, it hurts. "can you hold me tighter? until i fall asleep?"

"of course, baby." he coos. "if you feel worse when you wake up, i can get you a painkiller."

you nod against his chest. remus wraps his arms tighter around you until you feel nothing but him. you try to hug him back, it's a bit unsuccessful attempt but he supports your waist to keep you on himself. his hand on your waist is a nice weight, better than any heating pad you use. you take a deep breath of his familiar scent.

"it'll pass." he says before you close your eyes. "i'll hold you as long as you have me."

he's being too sweet, too precious. you would blush and hide yourself to his chest but your brain is focused on the pain, sadly. you still give remus a nice kiss, though. he keeps his lips on your head until your breathing evens out.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

1k / 39 / post-apocalypse au, part 3

...

By the time Soap eases himself off of Roach’s back and Ghost hauls him into what must be the infirmary cabin, you turn around to find the camp’s gates shut tight and fortified in preparation for nightfall. One way in, one way out, as with any smart semi-permanent settlement. You’re locked into the squad’s camp. Not on purpose, Price tells you. But you swear there’s amusement behind his eyes.

No good deed goes unpunished.

It’s more of an encampment than a settlement, with log buildings and structures everywhere. Looks like something they fixed up into someplace livable. Nicer than most hovels you’ve seen since society crunched under the boot heel of chemical warfare. You’re tempted to root around the place, get a better look around inside, too, but going inside somewhere enclosed makes you feel itchy now. You sit outside at the campfire instead, leaning back against the massive, furry flank of your snoozing dog.

Price looks at you over the fireside, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. His blue eyes seem to be analyzing you.

Roach sleeps next to you, one of his front paws flopped over your leg. It must be nice to be able to go to sleep that fast, no worrying about what the morning could bring.

You don't look at Price for a long time. But the more you concentrate on looking away, the more irritated you get. You pull at the grass. Finally, you glance back. He doesn’t politely avert his eyes. That irritates you even more.

"What?" you snap at him.

Price shrugs, not at all bothered. "Just checking you out." He takes a drag of his cigarette, leans back, and eyes you. "Smoke?"

"Where the hell are you getting cigarettes? You live in the middle of the woods."

He chuckles. "Trade with some of the settlements a way away. Cigarettes always make good bartering chips."

"Not if you smoke 'em all up."

"Gotta indulge where I can." He blows a stream of smoke away from you. "Here."

He's right, too. He hands you a cigarette.

A few minutes later, you're enjoying it, letting the nicotine soak in after a long day. That's still one favor you owe Soap and now one to Price.

"Your dog got a name?" Price asks as he lights his own next cigarette."

"Roach."

"What's his deal? Mutie hound?"

"He was my dog before he went all..." You square your hands. "Big. So he listens to me."

Price eyes the beast. "Sure he does. Must be conveneint, being able to tell him to sit there and keep your feet warm, huh?"

You take another drag, leaning forward a bit more toward the fire. "Sure is. Slobber everywhere, though. And the farts he rips..."

"Worse than the mutagen?"

"Exactly. Chemical warfare."

He chuckles. "Soap mentioned you once or twice. Never a dog, though."

"I thought I lost him to the forest." You glance at Price sideways. "What did Soap say?"

"Eh. He says too much."

"Right."

"Just said you're scrappy for a civvy. Pretty scrappy, period." He takes in another drag. "Seemed fond of it."

You scoff. Civvy. Is that what you are? But you don't pick a fight about it. The cigarette is good. You feel like you could lay down in front of this fire and sleep. Maybe you will.

Price doesn't say anything more. The silence is comfortable. You take in the atmosphere. It's peaceful, really: the fire warm and bright, the forest sounds and the smell of smoke mixing pleasantly with the cloud of nicotine in your lungs.

Price takes another drag. "Soap's a good lad, even if he can't quite stop shooting his mouth off."

"How many of those you got?"

"Cigarettes?"

"Mhm."

"How many you tryna borrow?"

"Another one."

"You'll get hooked if you're not careful."

"Indulging where I can, aren't I?"

"You are at that." Price hands you another with a smirk. "And a handful. You know, that dog of yours is a lot of muscle. We could use that."

"You're not the first one to think that, old man. He only listens to me, so don't get any nasty ideas about offing me and stealing him."

Price smirks. Sounds like you have experience dealing with other survivors. "Wouldn’t be a bad trade-off," he says, shifting into a lazier position as he stares into the fire. "Might anyways. Can't imagine keeping a dog that size just for a foot warmer. That beast's gotta be put to use. Turn him into a war hound or something." He takes another drag. "Can't imagine Soap'd be happy about you gettin' killed, though. Or the other lads, for that matter."

You smirk. You can tell he's got a dry sense of humor. You do, too. "Can't kill civvies, can you?"

"You're hardly a civvy," Price mutters under his breath. "Civvies're tame."

"Shame. Guess you're not getting my dog."

"Pity." Price taps his cigarette ash into the dirt. "Got a lot of cigarettes and nobody to smoke 'em."

"Thought you bartered them."

"Just getting a head start in case the trading starts to slow down. Keeps the supply low." Price takes in another drag. "But suit yourself. Best to leave before you get hooked."

He flicks the cigarette into the fire and walks away. You watch the flames and feel the warm lure of sleep pull you closer. It's like another favor for a favor, isn't it? Roach's aid and yours in exchange for a full night of rest and another day of cigarettes and food. Maybe two days. Just enough to recharge and get enough sleep. Enough for Roach to recover.

You curl into Roach's side, closing your eyes. Just another day or two. That's all. Then you'll vanish.

Roach nudges you as you nestle into his fur. You're exhausted, but you're also safe and more or less relaxed for the first time in days--weeks--and your mind finally starts to slow down.

The fire crackles gently in front of you. Roach snores quietly, content to keep you company through the long, quiet, dark night.

For the first time in a long time, you feel warm and safe. It's not much. But it's enough.

You let your eyes close and finally succumb to sleep.

...

part 1 / part 2 / [part 3]

more Price / more Soap / masterlist

[wintersoldiersoul]

hey dear ❤️ I maybe thought of an imagine with Bucky where you're on a mission in the mountains but due to the weather you need to stay in a little cabin for the night but it's terribly cold. He lights a fire but then he offers you his sweater. You're both getting closer (you have a crush as well on each other), so you kinda forget about the mission and just enjoy the time together as you also share a meaningful kiss?

Keep Me Warm

A/N: I changed up the timeline of this a tiny bit but the main idea is still there! I hope you enjoy!!

The mission had been long and grueling. You and Bucky have spent nearly a week in the mountains trying to take down the enemy. You were exhausted, both physically and mentally. Finally, you had gotten the call that you could come home. You were so excited to be back home in the compound, sleeping in your own comfy bed.

“Excited to go home, Y/N?” Bucky asked. 

You rubbed your hands together, trying to keep warm while you waited for the jet. “Can’t wait. I’m looking forward to a nice hot shower and sleeping in my bed.”

He smiled. There was no better thing in the world than him smiling. You tried to keep your crush on him at bay, knowing he’d never feel the same way about you, but damn was it hard. His blue eyes were so mesmerizing and his smile could wake a goddamn army. He was just so perfect.

You smiled back, hoping that he assumed that the blush on your cheeks was from the cold and not from him.

His phone rang and he answered, hoping it would be an update on how far the jet was. “Hey Steve,” Bucky said into the device. “Shit, really? Yeah, yeah, that’s fine,” he sighed. “Yup. I’ll check back when we’re there. Bye.” He hung up and looked at you. “Bad news. There’s a bad storm coming and the jet can’t fly. We’re gonna have to stay here another night.”

“Fuckk,” you threw your head back in frustration. You had spent the entire mission hiding in safe house to safe house, all of them in secluded areas where you couldn’t be found. Sometimes if you were lucky, you got to stay in nicer places with actual beds and furniture. But due to the sensitive nature of this mission, that hadn't been the case. The thought of spending another night in one of those places nearly made you cry. 

“Good news is that Steve said there’s a cabin not too far. It’s still nothing fancy, but he said its an upgrade to what we’ve been in. We should be safe now that we’ve, you know, taken down the enemy,” he smiled warmly, trying to get you to stay positive. 

“Oh, that's good,” you responded. “Let’s go, then.” 

The two of you had to trudge through the snow to get there. The walk ended up being nearly 2 hours and you couldn’t feel your body by the time you arrived. The cabin was small, with only one bedroom, a living room, a small kitchen, and a bathroom.

“Shit, you’re shivering,” Bucky noted when you got inside.

“Yeah, how are you not?” 

He shrugged. “It’s the serum. I’m still cold, don’t get me wrong, but it makes it a lot harder for me to be cold. Even in freezing weather.”

“Must be n-nice,” you mumbled through chattering teeth. “I get cold so easily. Any time it’s below 50 degrees I can’t f-feel my t-toes.”

“Go take a hot shower, okay? I’ll try to see if there’s any food I can make for us.” 

You nodded, going to the bathroom to take a shower. You took your time, rejoicing in the hot water as you washed all of the dirt off of your skin. When you got out, you rummaged through your bag trying to find a sweatshirt but it seemed to have disappeared. “Fuck,” you whispered. You must have left it at the last safe house. You threw on a t-shirt and sweats, still shivering as you made your way into the kitchen.

“Is the heat on?” You asked Bucky.

“I think it’s broken. I was playing around with it but it doesn’t seem to be doing anything.”

You rubbed your hands over your arms, trying to get warm. “Shit, I think I left my sweatshirt at the last safe house.” 

 “Doll, you’re gonna freeze,” he said sympathetically. “Here.” In one fell-swoop he ripped off the gray cable knit sweater that he had on. “I just put it on when we got here so it’s clean.”

“Buck, I don’t want you to be cold, though,” you protested, despite how cozy the sweater looked. 

He swatted a hand. “Remember, I don’t get too cold. Don’t worry about me. You’re gonna turn into an ice block soon.”

You smiled, graciously. “Thanks.” You pulled the sweater over your head, immediately enthralled by his scent. The fabric smelled like musky vanilla and pine, the scent that you had come to associate with him. It smelled like home. 

“I was able to find some soup,” he said, holding out a bowl for you. “Maybe it will help warm you up.” 

“Thank you, Buck.” You sat down and began to eat.

“Lemme see if I can get a fire started,” he got up and walked over to the fireplace. You watched him as he threw wood into a pile, entranced by his muscles flexing each time he picked up another piece. Between the serum, the metal arm, and the fact that he was just so in shape, he did it all with ease, not even flinching at the weight. How could you not fall for the guy just a little bit? 

“You alright over there?” He smirked at you, noticing your eyes on him.

Shit, get it together, Y/N, you thought. “Oh, sorry, just zoning out,” you tried to cover. 

Within a few minutes, he had a roaring fire emanating heat throughout the room. But it still wasn’t enough to keep you warm over by the table you were still sitting at. 

“Come over here,” he encouraged. “It's nice and warm by the fire.”

You stood up and made your way over to the couch so that you could feel the heat of the fire better. “Oh, that’s nice,” you hummed, feeling the embers warming your body. Bucky crept up beside you sitting down and rubbing his flesh arm over yours.

“You’re fucking freezing. I can feel how cold you are through the sweater,” he whispered. He was so close to you. “Lemme hold you. Warm you up a bit.”

“Um,” you cleared your throat, heart rate speeding up. “O-okay. Yeah, sure.” 

He laughed quietly before pulling you so you were laying back against him. “Damn, I feel bad that you’re so cold,” he said, voice holding sympathy and care.

“It’s not your fault, Buck. You’re already doing a lot to try to help.”

The next words he said were something you never thought you’d hear. “Maybe I should never let you go. Just keep holding you like this forever.”

“What?” Did you hear him right? Did he really just say that? He laughed lightly. “Would you like that?”

“Bucky, I-um…” you felt so flustered. Was he just messing with you?

“Come on, Doll,” he smiled. “I don’t know how much more obvious I can make it that I’m kinda in love with you. And I think…” he said, putting his mouth close to your ear. “You might feel the same way about me.”

“Bucky,” you whispered, the feeling of him speaking into your ear sending chills through your body. 

“If I’m reading it totally wrong that’s okay. But I can’t hide how I feel anymore, Y/N. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t even talk to you for like 3 months because I got so flustered around you. Then we did start talking and I found out that you were also the most interesting, intelligent, kind person I’ve ever met. So tell me, please. Do you feel the same way?”

Your heart pounded. How was this happening? “Yes, Bucky. I-I feel the same way.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Can you turn around so I can kiss you?”

You quickly flipped your body so you were lying on him, face to face. He pulled your mouth to his, quickly inserting his tongue into your mouth. It was so much better than you had imagined, and you had spent a lot of time fantasizing about kissing him. 

“Y/N,” he said, resting his forehead against yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” He ran his hand up and down your back as he spoke. “You’re so amazing.”

“I’ve been dreaming about that for a while too, Buck,” you laughed, enjoying his embrace. “You know,” you spoke, voice in a teasing tone. “There’s only one bed in here. We might have to put it to good use.”

Within a second, Bucky picked you up and carried you to the bedroom.

[lincolndjarin]

Bound in Beskar

From the world of Best Kept Secret...

A down on her luck traveler finds employment with a gruff Mandalorian. He's quiet and reserved, she's resourceful and quick witted, and things are heating up in the forge... one can only imagine what happens in this tale of lust and steel.

Some of you may recall our dear princess!reader in bks reading a book in chapter 20, this is that. Vaguely in the style of those campy romance novels that you read in the bathtub with candles and wine.

warnings : armorer!mando, no use of y/n, reader is not described past the fact that she is manhandled and carried by mando, smut, unapologetic porn with a little plot, i use the phrase 'throbbing member' just once i promise it's ironic please believe me guys, spanking, pussy slapping, dom/sub undertones, sir kink, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, humiliation, p in v sex, inappropriate use of blacksmithing abilities, ro makes things up about blacksmithing, bondage, use of restraints, briefly mentioned ass play, inappropriate use of a hammer, size kink, sweet rough sex, power imbalance (mando is readers boss, but both parties are consenting), definitely a few things i missed my apologies, barely beta read i was in a rush sorry!!

word count : 3.8k

a/n : this is so bad but also like i love it LMAO like i promise it's supposed to be kind of bad guys you have to believe me lmaoooo. this was really fun to do omfg this is my magnum opus in the worst way possible

You don’t know his name. 

There wasn’t even an interview. You’d come knocking on his door when you saw the sign in town on the news bulletin board. You’d shown up with everything you owned in the canvas bag on your hip as you knocked on the large brass door. The house didn’t look like a shop, it just looked like a house, a large house, when he finally opened the door you could see why. Just beyond his hulking figure you can see his work space, the majority of the building is devoted to just one room, high ceilings and brick walls surround the enormous forge. 

“I saw your flier for a live-in housekeeper, is the position still available?” You’re so sick of sleeping in alley ways and rooftops, you’d do nearly anything for adequate lodging. 

He had examined you, the cold, unfeeling steel of his visor scanning up and down your body until he nodded. 

“You can clean?” The low, controlled voice drips through the modulator making your blood run hot. 

“Yes, and cook.” You hold your hand out to him, he only nods in response as you tell him your name. 

“You start now.” Is all you get as he motions for you to step inside.

So yeah.

You don’t know his name and he never tells you.

So you just call him sir. 

The room is nicer than any you’ve ever had. A little space at the top of the stairs, a soft worn out mattress and a desk with a crooked stool. You take it with a grin, you can’t remember the last time you slept somewhere warm. 

You set your things down as he instructs you to follow him back downstairs. He shows you around, although there isn’t much to see. The main room is large with an open ceiling for the smoke, an ornate forge takes up the center, the fires crackle from within as he leads you to a small kitchen. 

The first thing you note is how barren it is. One skillet hangs from a hook and as you search through the drawers most of them are empty.

“I will give you extra credits this week for supplies.” He sounds almost embarrassed as he ushers you out of the room towards his own. “Once a week I’ll need you to tidy up here and do the laundry, it is of the utmost importance to me that you knock when you do.”

“Of course.” You nod slowly and he puts his hands on his hips. There’s a moment of silence before he turns and returns to his work without another word.  

You are to cook his meals, buy the groceries, clean the house, and stay out of his way. In exchange he provides housing and a salary of two hundred and fifty credits a week along with any change from the grocery money he gives you. 

You almost want to ask how no one else applied to such a generous job offer but the quiet foreboding presence of your employer makes it obvious enough. It wouldn’t surprise you if people feared him, you’re certainly a bit jumpy around him. He’s just so… big. He takes up so much space, stomping around the shop all day as you take care to stay out of his path, cleaning up the messes he leaves behind. 

You stay extremely vigilant, opportunities like this do not often arise for you so you give him no reasons to question your performance. 

You go to the markets, bundled up in your cloak once a week to keep the kitchen stocked. You wake before him to prepare his breakfast, you tidy up the forge before he opens the shop to make it presentable. You cook, you clean, you repeat. When there is no work to be done he dismisses you, telling you to make yourself busy elsewhere and you always do. Taking walks or retreating to your own quarters. 

You do this for quite some time. 

He doesn’t necessarily soften up towards you but he seemingly grows to tolerate you more. 

You try different things, baking, knitting, painting and anything else you can get your hands on but no hobby ever seems to stick so eventually you take to watching him work. Sitting at the top of the stairs, dangling your legs over the railing as he hammers the smoldering metals. He’s an artist really, the quick precision of his strikes with the hammer, bending steel to his will to craft the custom fitted pieces. It makes you wonder why his own armor looks so worn down when he clearly has a gift. Everything but his helmet is worn down, scratched up dark metals that he often tosses aside when he works late into the night. 

After long days of work when the shop is closed he’ll toss aside his chestplate and pauldrons, opting to remain only in his helmet as he rolls up his sleeves revealing the warm tan skin beneath. You always feel as though you can’t breathe right when he does this. His strong, toned arms, littered with burn scars from years of work. 

You can’t deny his appeal. 

Even without the armor he is huge. The wide expanse of his shoulders that smooth down into a narrow waist. You don’t even need to wonder about what’s going on under the helmet because everything else is just so much. Those hands, that neck, his chest, you’re practically drooling when you watch him work late into the night, sitting at the top of the stairs, clutching a steaming mug of caf as you squeeze your thighs together. You spend most nights with your hand between your legs thinking about your employer.   

It isn’t a bad life, it’s repetitive but it’s happy and safe which is more than you’ve ever had before. The Mandalorian treats you well, sometimes he speaks to you outside of orders, sometimes over dinner he asks you how your day was. You even have enough money to start a savings box. 

Nothing changes and you’re fine with that.

Until one night when he’s working late, working on something smaller and detailed. You had started to tidy up around him, already in your pajamas as you padded around the forge in your nightshirt and shorts. You were sweeping when it happened. 

“Kriff-” You slip on a scrap of fabric, you grab onto the ledge of the forge, trying to catch yourself. Your breath catches in your throat as you knock a hammer off of the stone, nearly falling face first into the molten metal.

You don’t even have time to scream as the wind is knocked out of you and you’re sharply yanked backwards away from the heat. 

“Do you have a death wish?” It’s the most emotion you’ve ever heard from him, anger that threatens to spill out of his helmet. “If you fall face first into that you’d be dead in an instant.” He hisses out, hands now shaking your shoulders. 

“I- I’m sorry, it was an accident.” Your face gets hot with shame as the veins in his neck pulse. “Please don’t fire me.” You whisper, fear of losing everything you’ve worked for over one simple mistake. 

He sighs.

“I’m not going to fire you, I’m just going to discipline you.”

“Discipli-” You start to question him but he sits down on the anvil, motioning you forward with two fingers before patting his lap. Your eyes go wide at the implication.

“Tell me to stop and you can go back upstairs, it won’t affect your job." He whispers earnestly.

You don’t want him to stop. 

So you go to sit in his lap but he clicks his tongue under his helmet.

“On your stomach.” His voice is lower than before as you swallow loudly, bending yourself over his knee, hiding your face in your hands. Your ass is on display for him under the short sleep shirt you wear. “How many do you think you need to learn your lesson?” 

“How many what, sir?” 

“How many spanks.”

Oh.

You pray to the Maker that you aren’t soaking through your shorts right now. 

“Umm… fifteen?” You aren’t exactly experienced in the subject but you don’t want to pick a number too low.

“Fifteen? Look at you my little over achiever, you must truly be sorry.” He muses with an amusement you’ve never heard from him. His large palm massages the globes of your ass, you’re so painfully turned on at this point you’re honestly a little worried you’re gonna come the second he starts. “And can you tell me why you’re being punished?” 

“B-because I knocked over your hammer?” You stammer out and you feel a sharp sting as he pinches your ass. 

“No, you sweet thing.” He bunches up your top a bit higher as he simultaneously yanks down your shorts pulling a yelp from you, he definitely knows you’re wet now. “It’s because you weren’t being careful, you weren’t focused on what you were doing and you almost got hurt.”

“No, I was focused I promise-”

“But you weren’t. You were sitting up there watching me, getting yourself all worked up and by the time you got down here you were so horny you got distracted and almost got yourself killed. What would I do without my pretty little housekeeper?” You’re speechless for several reasons. He knows why you watch him? He knows how much it turns you on? 

He called you pretty. 

And his. 

“Tell me why you’re being punished?” He repeats as you clear your throat. 

“Because I wasn’t paying attention.” You mumble. 

“I want the exact answer.” 

You’re so embarrassed you could just die but something about the shame makes your blood run hot as you rub your thighs together rather obviously, earning a chuckle from your companion. 

“Because I was so worked up from watching you and I was distracted, and I almost got hurt.” You whisper, hearing a pleased hum from him. 

“That’s my smart girl. Are you ready?” 

“Yes.”

“Yes…?”

“Yes, sir.” You quickly correct yourself before bracing yourself for the first smack. 

One. 

You’re surprised by the softness of the smack. It’s more like a pat against your rear. 

“Still good?” 

“Yes sir.” 

Two. 

You squeak a bit, this one being significantly harsher than the first, before you’re prepared he’s back on you. 

Three, four, five, six. 

You’re making a sound that’s a mix between a moan and a squeal as his bare palms come in contact with your ass in four consecutive sharp spanks. He rubs his hands over the flesh that you’re certain is already welted and swollen. The next spanks come long before you’re ready. 

Seven, eight, nine, ten. 

Tears sting your eyes as he lays into you as if you’re beskar steel that he can bend to his will.

“Look at that.” He remarks with a sense of accomplishment as you let out a soft whimper. You feel his finger gliding along your thighs and up your seam making you shudder before he holds his glistening digits in front of your face. “Are you enjoying yourself, sweet thing?” You nod with a small hum, praying he’ll just touch you already but you aren’t so lucky as you feel a slap against your pussy (Eleven.) that has you whining, loud and high pitched as you clench around nothing. 

Twelve. 

Another slap to your cunt, you can feel your clit twitching as a groan is punched out of you. 

“Gods, are you gonna come like this?” He sounds terribly amused as your body tenses. 

Thirteen. 

He spreads you wide open, giving your clit a little tap that has you lurching forward in his lap. 

“Come on, you can do it.” The condescending tone only makes you want to please him more, you want it so bad as he ghosts a finger across your dripping hole. 

Fourteen, fifteen. 

On the final slap his hand stays pressed against your mound, applying just enough pressure to throw you over that edge. You’ve never come quite like this, nearly wailing as tears now flow freely as your body turns to putty in his lap. He has melted you down and made you something new. 

He lets you work through it for a while, rubbing your back until you come back to your senses. He lifts you from his lap, your legs wobble and shake as he stands you up.

“I gotcha.” He murmured as he picked you up bridal style, carrying you up the stairs before laying you down in bed. “You did so good, such a good girl for me.” He whispered as you closed your eyes, absolutely exhausted. You felt the blankets pulled up over you before you drifted off. 

You swore you felt something press against your forehead. 

When you wake for the first time since you started working for him, breakfast is already made. A plate of bread and meat sits on your desk along with a glass of water. Your ass is raw but other than that you feel more than fine. You aren’t sure what to expect when you go downstairs but it certainly isn’t the silence you're met with. 

It’s as if nothing happened at all. 

He doesn’t even acknowledge you as you frown, attending to your daily tasks. 

He barely even looks at you. 

You go to bed that night frustrated and upset.

So you come up with a plan to get his attention.

You mess up in every way possible. 

You ‘forget’ to make his breakfast. You leave metal scraps on the floor. And you go to bed early, hoping he’ll come upstairs and punish you for your mistakes but he never does. You ignore your duties for a full week before you finally snap at him while he’s locking up. 

“Do I have to throw myself into the forge again to get your attention?” You finally snap at him. 

“Excuse me?” He turns to face you, holding his tongs in hand. 

“I have been a terrible housekeeper for days and you haven’t so much as scolded me!” You throw your hands up in exasperation as he shakes his head. 

“Is that what this is about? My forge is a mess because I haven’t been giving you enough attention?” He tilts his head to the side and you actually feel a bit guilty, when he puts it like that you seem rather petulant. You nod, feeling rather ashamed. He points at the anvil. “Lay down. Now.” You waste no time, rushing over and laying down on your stomach across the large steel surface, his large hands pin you down in place as he takes position behind you, clearly fuming and clearly hard as his hips meet your ass. 

It’s a harrowing juxtaposition, how careful yet rough he is with you as his hand holds you by the back of your neck, pressing you into the cold metal of the anvil. You’re practically giddy with anticipation as you feel a faint heat on your wrists as they’re yanked behind your back. There’s a sizzling sound and you register a metal wrapped around your wrists, arousal and fear course through you as you feel a nearly painful heat that has you trying to look over your shoulder. He pushes back harder on your neck.

“Don’t move.” He grumbles as you go still. When he finally takes a step back you turn to look at what he’s done only to find your wrists shackled behind your back, they aren’t just locked in place. 

He’s welded them together.  

“You want my attention so badly? Then you’re gonna get it.” He yanks down everything below your waist, your tights bunching at your ankles as he pulls your skirt up to your hips. “You’re a terrible housekeeper, maybe I should find another use for you.” He kneels behind you, spreading you wide open with his hands, the cool air from the skylight chills your soaking folds. His fingers poke at you as if he’s examining you. You’re grinning as you wait for him to finally touch you in earnest but instead you feel cold steel pressing into you. You flinch away from the sensation but he holds you in place. 

“Sir- please-” You whine but all that gets you is a slap on the ass as he pushes the object in deeper. You groan, it isn’t all that thick but Maker it’s long, brushing up against spots inside of you you’re certain you’ve never reached before until the base of it bumps against your clit, the heavy weight shifting inside of you as it clicks. 

He put his fucking hammer inside you. 

“Maybe I can use you to hold my tools.” He remarks as he stands. “Would you like that? If I kept you around to hold my things?” He walks over to kneel in front of you now, tapping your face with his fingers. “This is a lesson, you know.” 

“What lesson?” Your voice is more strained than you expected. 

““That if you want something, you need to ask for it.” He whispers through the modulator as you nod.

“Please.” You whimper.

“Please, what?” 

“Please, I want you to touch me.” You sway your hips as best you can like this as he runs his fingers across your cheek.

“Like this?” Bastard.

“I want you to fuck me.” No point beating around the bush. “Sir.” You add on a beat later, hoping to encourage him. 

“That’s all you needed to say.” He stands back up and you groan as he yanks the tool out of you, running his fingers through your wetness as you hear the rustling of fabric and zippers before something thick and soft swipes through your folds. As he sinks himself into you at last one of his hands grips the meat of your hips so hard you’re certain it’ll bruise. The other holds the metal linking your cuffs as he pulls you back onto him, impaling you on his cock at a distressingly slow pace. 

Ask for it. 

“Please sir- I need you- I need you to fill me up.” 

“Such a polite girl.” You can hear his grin as he slams forward. Your hips are flush now as he thrusts his throbbing member into your soaking heat. “Such a- sweet cunt.” He groans as you slump forward, the size of him knocks the wind out of you as he splits you open. His cock stretches you open wider than ever before as he immediately takes on a punishing pace. 

Your body is on fire, your nerves igniting as he pounds into you. The hand on your hip moves lower, circling your clit sending another jolt of fire through your veins as you barrel towards an unavoidable orgasm. 

You cry out as he angles his hips to hit that spot inside of you and all too quickly you tumble over that edge, strangling his cock within you as you spasm wildly. Your eyes flutter shut as you soak him. 

He doesn’t let up for a second. 

“Gonna give you enough attention to keep you content for a few days.” He spits out through grit teeth, already pushing you towards another climax your body isn’t at all ready for. 

“So fucking needy. Maybe I should make some toys for you to play with while I’m working.” He grumbles, you feel his thumb prodding at your other entrance as you gasp. “Could make you something real pretty to put in here.” You nod furiously as he laughs, rocking his hips forward again. It’s a good thing you’re being held up by the anvil because your legs go limp underneath you as you come again. He pinches your clit, nowhere near hard enough to hurt but enough to make you sob as your eyes go wet from the overstimulation of everything that’s happening. “Think you can give me one more?” The dominating condescending tone is gone as he leans down, his helmet knocking against your spine as if he’s kissing you there. 

“I- I don’t know.” You manage to whisper out as he slows his brutal pace, an act of mercy to your puffy, sensitive cunt. 

“Do you wanna try?” His voice is sweet now as he stills inside of you. Keyword there is try. Your skin tingles in a way that is nearly painful as you nod. 

“Yes sir.” You turn your head to the side, resting the hot skin on the cold steel.

“That’s my girl.” He murmurs, starting a new pace, a gentler one as he pushes the blunt head of his cock against your cervix, pulling a drawn out whine from your chest. “That’s it, just a little more, such a good girl, so good for me.” He begins to ramble as his thrusts grow a little erratic and sloppy, his fingers tensing against your hips as he stumbles forward, his entire body flush with yours as he empties himself into you. You can feel the warmth leaking between the two of you as you’re hit with an entirely new sensation that makes you come one last time. Your vision goes entirely white now as tears wash down your face. He steadies you, holding you through it and whispering more praises that don’t entirely register before he carefully pulls out of you. Your eyes remain shut as he carefully takes your wrists, after a moment they’re back at your side as he puts you back together. Pulling up your panties and tights, keeping his cum inside of you in the process as he lays you on your back, eventually sitting you up. “Are you okay?” 

You grin. 

“Yes, sir.” He chuckles, leaning forward just enough to tap his helmet against yours for a moment. You look down at your wrists where the metal bands remain. 

“I made them for you, they aren’t always shackles, they're pretty when they aren’t stuck together.” You bring them up to your face, getting a closer look at the intricate details. There’s a small mythosaur embossed on each one. A symbol, something that binds you to him. 

“I love it.” You smile up at him, looking around the still dirty shop. “I should probably catch up on my work…” You start to stand but he sits you back down. 

“Take the day off, worry about it tomorrow.” He walks past you, you turn to watch him throw more kindling into the forge. 

“What are you gonna do with the rest of your day?” You tilt your head, watching as he takes the hammer that was inside you only moments ago and spins it in his hand. 

“I believe I owe you a couple of toys.” He tosses a handful of steel into the hearth as you sit back a bit and watch him start to work. 

a/n : this was ridiculous but also i did take it very seriously. this genre was what i was unapologetically born to write.

if you liked this and aren't familiar with my work this is a one off from my mandalorian series Best Kept Secret, which you can find here!!

I don't have taglists but follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates on any and all fics!!

[chaewon2000lover]

Return on investment. Part 1 of 2.

Male reader x Kim chaewon

2.5k words.

tags, wholesome, standing sex, pussy eating.

“Click” “Click” “Click”“Click”“Click” “Click” “Click “Click”“Click” “Click” “Click” “Click”

“Uhh, god finally done”

you look to the side past your many monitors and across your desk where your phone lays buzzing.

“Unforgiven I’m a villain, I’m a”

you swipe at it and it turns off.

“Huh, that always manages to cheer me up at the end of a hard day managing way to much of way to many peoples money, I’m so happy I made her new song my ‘work over’ alarm”

as you stand up to leave shortly after turning your seemingly endless wall of monitors off, you remember that checking your phone might be a good idea, considering that your girlfriend will be in New York soon.

“I know you just got done working, see you tomorrow xxx”

attached was a picture you were not completely sure you should be looking at right now as you walked down the halls towards the elevator, though as per usual you were probably the only human in the building.

“they should really just let me set up an office from my own home”

regardless you opened it.

“god I can’t wait to have her in my hands, her perfect perky breasts her slightly protruding hips attached to her perfect little butt, and sitting on top of all that what must be the most perfect face in the world currently adorned with an amazing expression” you think.

“hope you have that same outfit tomorrow 😍😍😍😳😳”

“haha I’ll see if they’ll lend it to me, maybe you could buy it🤔🤔🐯”

“Maybe maybe 🤔, How are you ever going to pay me back for this🤔🤔”

“you’ll find out exactly how tomorrow❤️‍🔥”

“Ohh yeah, what can you do for me that I can’t just buy?”

“This

I know how much you want to touch and hold this”

“an older one i like it”

“And also these abs, I know you can’t buy any common whore in America or anywhere with abs as nice as mine or a face as lovely”

“did the sweet Angel just say whore”

“Tomorrow I won’t just say it”

“Okay chae as per usual you win, I don’t need to blow my load while driving”

“your driving, why didn’t you put it on voice call yet?”

“I thought you were with your members?”

“ohh yeah, that’s true😙”

“You know what, chae if you weren’t so incredibly adorable you would be so annoying to deal with”

“Hey, that maybe be true but you best treat me nicer tomorrow, especially if you want this adorable idol to be yours to play with”

“okay I’m sorry chae😥😥, but remember who paid to upgrade your flight and who paid to put you and your members in the top suite”

“okay, sorry how about we settle it tomorrow?❤️‍🔥, also all the girls are loving it, though they won’t stop asking me who paid for it”

“just tell them it’s an adoring fan, or even better your sugar daddy😳😹😹”

“whatever, are you still driving?”

“yeah it’s a long way around NY, I’ll show you tomorrow”

“I’ll look forward to it love you xxx”

“love you to xxxx”

As you fell asleep, all you were able to think about is her body and how it will feel, you’d been nervous before but nothing can compare to this feeling.

And now the day has finally come you stand outside the venue, leaning against your favourite car a new Ferrari 296 GT3 barely road legal and not the most comfortable but it sure does draw a lot of looks and it would right now if you weren’t in a remote part of the parking lot.

“hopefully chae won’t be able to notice how little sleep I got” You think aloud to yourself.

You just learnt what can top the nerves from last night, the nerves you are feeling as you see a little speck getting closer, slowly it becomes bigger brighter and more human like, as you can begin to properly make it out, you know its her getting closer and closer you can recognise the outfit she’s wearing, and chuckle a little to yourself.

“Baby, you got the outfit, how much is it gonna cost me” you quip.

she doesn’t reply instead she just jumps into you, to which of course you open your arms and wrap them around her.

“Your so warm”

“thanks chae it’s good to know that I’m a effective hot pack”

you lift her up and swing her tiny frame around a little before kissing her, your mouth barely touching hers as you spin her around.

“mmh”

with that little sound from her you place her down.

and bend down to kiss her on the cheek.

“get in the car let’s go to a restaurant then we can get back to my place”

“What kind of restaurant?”

“whatever kind you want? This is New York you can get anything you want, at least if you know the right person and you’ve got the money and trust me I’ve got both”

“ohh yeah, you make it sound like your in the mafia” she giggles

“Well I’ve got all the connections to be, it kinda comes with the job”

“Okay bad boy” she giggles “why don’t we have some Italian then”

“you really want me to be in the mafia eh, but yeah sure”

“I can see why you became a fund manager now” she quips

“why because I’m so charismatic“ you say as you start the car and it roars to life.

“no, it’s because your jokes are terrible, so your better off being serious, it suits you well” she says giggling.

“wow thanks chae, maybe I’ll show you how serious I can get later” you say slightly seductively.

“Maybe” she says as you look to the side to see that she’s taken her hat off and placed it on the dash.

You pat her head, and run your fingers through her hair “god I still can’t believe your finally sitting next to me”

“Neither can I”

“you know chae, you really are quite small” you say while looking straight ahead focusing on controlling this far to fast car.

“well your not that big either, how tall even are you” chae says with a tinge of offence and a small pout on her face.

“ohh yeah, let’s see about that in a few” you say with a suggesting tone, “also I’m 5,9 thank you very much”

Chae blushes a bit and then says “hmm must be how skinny you are”

“I prefer lean” you say feigning offence, “maybe we’ll see what you really think of my body later”

Chae giggles and nods

then she says something that surprises you. “Did you sleep last night?”

“you know I usually can’t sleep easily let alone well, 6-7 hours is my norm, what with the stress and anxiety from the billions of other peoples money i manage”, though you sort of forget to mention that last night you probably got 3 to 4 hours of sleep due to her.

Now you’re standing in front of a fancy Italian restaurant, with chae right next to you. “Don’t you think I’m not dressed up enough for this?” She says.

“maybe but who cares, there’s no need to worry about other people looking at you I booked a private booth”

“really, but it looks so expensive” she say’s almost hesitantly.

You nod “that’s because it is, but I think I’ll get my return soon enough”

she giggles “sure mafia man”

you chuckle and walk her in, past the lady at the front desk who points you to your booth, (which is just big enough to hide you two away in a corner).

as you two sit and eat dinner you talk about her tour, your investments (only for a little while) and more, she mainly talks about how nice the food is which your happy to hear, she even takes a few pictures (probably for her Instagram).

soon the hour or so flys by and you two are out and on the way back to your home.

eventually through the silence caused by the impending interest and excitement, you slow your Ferrari down and pull into the parking garage just outside your home.

“It’s uhh, just over there” you say with a dry cough and point her towards your place.

“Where?” she asks.

You grab her hand “oh whatever, don’t worry I’ll just take you, come on” you do just what you said you would and chaewon blushes instantly.

You lead her up into the elevator, “which floor are you on” she asks sweetly.

“Top floor” you reply only thinking about what your going to do once you get there.

A deafening silence falls upon you two, until you reach the top floor and you both spill towards your place, past some other apartments and towards yours.

as soon as you enter you grab chae by her shoulder, “take your top off” you say filled with desire.

she does as told and tosses her hat to the side, then you pull her gloves off, her shoes already lay at the entrance, she pushes you towards the bedroom and you drag her while only stopping to take the last bit of an article of clothing off.

until you arrive, her pushing you onto the bed in just a bra and panties and you underneath her with just your boxer shorts on.

“Versace, I like it” she giggles.

“thanks” you say with a grin.

you reverse the position and put her down on the bed flat on her back, then you slide down and teeth her panties off.

The first flick of your tongue hits her lower lips, making her shiver in anticipation.

“Ohh god, keep going” she beckons you.

You begin by licking, flicking and slurping away at her sweet pussy enjoying all the sweet sweat and pussy juices you can get.

her tightening caverns and vast folds capture your full interest as you do a deep dive into them, similar to how you dive head first into an promising investment opportunity, you thoroughly check and explore everything, what if I move my tongue like this over here, what about over there, what if I flick at this and then massage it gently, what does this part taste like, all these questions enter your head and you explore them without fail, making the sweet sexy lady you love writhe squirm and twitch in pleasure, her hands finding you head to twist your hair and push you further onto her, proving her love for your explorations, her own mouth to busy letting out sweet sensual sounds to form coherent confirmations.

your hands slide around behind her and grab at her cute rear, you squeeze it, toy with it, and fondle it all while still serving her front flawlessly, her cute body only serves a reply in the form of more squirming under your control, your every flick, lick, slurp, grab, squeeze, and touch elicits a sensual reaction from her.

Her being in this moment is the greatest mix of cute and sexy, the way she lulls you in further while still seeming to have no previous experience of her own, makes you both want to laugh and ravage her body.

You pull away from her deciding with her sensitivity that now is the best time to strike, you crawl up her body your hand back in front now playing with her small mounds instead of her cute ass, your tongue now sliding its way up her beautiful defined sweating body till it reaches her succulent mouth, and you lay just above her ready to impale her onto your cock whenever ready, “You ready baby” you ask into her ear.

“Please” she moans into yours, you gently bite down on her ear, and begin to slowly push your sizeable rod into her soft pussy.

“Ahh, ohh” she moans sweet but lustful, angelic but sultry moans into your perked ears.

you slowly pick the pace up pushing in and out of her slowly and delicately with deliberate intent and control behind each stroke similar to that of a master painter except instead of a brush you use your rod, and the picture you paint is that of great pleasure and beauty.

Your mouth latch’s back onto her’s, salvia being exchanged between them like the stocks you trade all day long, you explore your options that you now own inside her mouth, the returns look and more importantly feel great, you use your tongue to tug at and twirl around hers.

Your hands get more grabby, more aggressive, greed is common in what you do, and while you can control it all day long in this very moment you let it run wild, doing what you want with your hands, your mouth doing it’s thing too wildly exploring the most lucrative unexplored territory in history, even more then some gold mine in Peru.

You and Chae trade muffle moans and words of confirmation between your mouths, you bite down on her lips making her pussy twitch around your cock, clearly the roughness turns her on.

So you decide to rub and pinch her nipples, this pushes her and she gets hotter and hornier, the more you do the hungrier you get, and the closer you get too.

You decide to take what you want, so you wrap your hands around her and lift her off the bed, holding her in air, “ohh, god, what are you doing” she mumbles.

“giving you it as rough as you so want” you say before bringing her down slowly onto your cock, the angle changes the way it feels for both of you, for her it feels like being slowly impaled and she loves it, for you the mix of control and depth feels incredible.

You bounce her up and down faster and faster each time on top of your cock eliciting many sweet moans escaping her mouth.

you build till your at a rapid pace, slamming Chae’s body up and down on your cock making it disappear and then reappear again and again, her moans at a similarly rapid pace fill your expensive room.

“Chae I’m getting close” you say in one short puff of air.

“so, am, I” she moans having to gather her breath between each word.

Your mouths collide again like they are at war over ownership, your hands begin grabbing at the butt that they hold up, and you continue bouncing Chae up and down at a breakneck speed.

Her cute bum and lovely tongue push you closer and closer to your breaking point.

“oh my god, that’s so good” she moans in delight.

Soon you feel the need for release, so you throw Chae back up and then plunge her back down fully inserting her onto your rod, making her scream and start shooting her juices onto your body as you launch yours into hers.

As you come to an end riding out the high, Chaewon nestles her head into your neck, you feel her warm breath on your skin, as you both relax.

You whisper into her ear “Chae I’m going to work hard until the company lets me start working from home, and at that point I’m going to move to Korea.”

She giggles “okay, I’ll look forward to that mafia man.” And immediately after finishing her sentence she falls asleep on your shoulder.

You gently carry her to your bed and lie her down alongside yourself, and slowly you too drift to sleep, the only thing on your mind how much you love this woman.

To be continued.

[zukosdualdao]

through all of the shadowy corners of me

zutara month, day three: (re)meet ugly/meet cute. @zutaramonth

summary: as katara's plans on the anniversay of her mother's murder fall apart, she ducks into a teashop to wait out the storm and finds herself familiar with the rude tea server she comes face to face with and promptly bursts into tears. because of-fucking-course.

warnings: grief, nightmares, references to kya's murder (and ursa's disappearance, though that is less explicit), and references to ableism wrt facial differences. also, just, some lightly gratuitous swearing, on behalf of katara's no good very bad day. she deserves it.

other notes: title taken from landon piggs’ falling in love at a coffeeteashop. because i am basic in that way.

Katara’s pretty sure the universe is conspiring against her.

First, it was the fucking felt-tip markers being all dried up—damn it Sokka—she needed for the posters for the protest she was supposed to head.

(She tries not to think about how really, first, it was the dream she woke up from, that she wakes up from often, but especially on this day, the dream with fearful eyes and the ominous drip of blood and the feeling of too late too late too late. The dream that is also a memory.)

Someone had to make the posters—because seriously, why was the school shutting down the campus food bank when a third of the student population was food-insecure?— so she missed her first class of the day to get new ones from the closest craft store, over half an hour way with traffic. There was supposed to be a quiz, too, and the professor is notoriously stubborn about absences and make-ups. 

And then there was this huge storm, so they couldn’t even have the protest today like they’d planned.

Now, as Katara ducks out of the rain and into the tiny little hole-in-the-wall ambient tea shop—The Jasmine Dragon, the sign had said—which is all warm lighting and soft ringing laughter from the bare few patrons inside, she figures she can at least get a cup of something hot to drink. It’s been a truly horrible day, and she can’t wait to get back home, sleep for ten hours straight, and wipe it from the record of her memory, but right now, this is her one saving grace.

So, when she gets to the second place in line, very patiently waiting as the server at the front snipes at the man in front of her, part of her wants to reel up to confront him. Sure, she knows customer service can be a day-in, day-out nightmare—she didn’t spend her first two semesters waiting tables because it was fun—but really, he could at least try to be a little nicer. The man wasn’t doing anything wrong, as far as she could see.

When she gets to the front, Katara opens her mouth to say—something, she doesn’t know what—and is caught off-guard to find that she recognizes him faintly. With his eyes the color of amber, swoopy, dark hair, and a shiny, painful-looking burn scar set against the left side of his face, on her right—yes, he was a boy who was in Sokka’s class back in high school. And he was a total jerk, barely speaking a word to anyone except to get into arguments, whether with teachers or other kids. She didn’t know him all that well herself, but she’d never liked him from the stories Sokka told or for the way he seemed to bristle at everyone and everything as she watched from a morbidly curious distance.

Zuko. Yes, she remembers him.

“Can I help you?” he asks, his voice almost a snarl when she spends a beat too long taking in his features, though he’s not looking at her, instead glancing down at his scratchpad. “I’m supposed to tell all of the customers we’re out of the oolong,” he adds in a rough voice, without looking up.

Katara wants to rage, wants to scream, why does he think he gets to treat people like that, god, at least have the decency to look me in the eye and treat me like a person when you’re being a dick—but instead, she bursts into tears. 

Very loud, messy tears. It’s been a long day.

And, well. He certainly looks up then. 

“Um,” Zuko says in lieu of an actual reaction, his right eye wide. His expression has softened considerably, his mouth shaped in surprise, his browline furrowed. “We have jasmine?” he tries.

Well, she thinks as he stands there stiffly, the perfect image of a deer in headlights, before reaching over the counter to push the napkin dispenser toward her, this is humiliating.

At least it’s not terribly busy in here. There’s no one standing beside her, and she only feels one or two worried glances from the tables, the shop mostly empty.

“Sorry,” Katara says through her tears. “God, I’m sorry. I just—I’m having awful day,” she says, motioning to her face as a way of explanation before yanking a napkin out from the dispenser to dry her face.

Zuko’s lip curls in what she thinks might be sympathy. 

“Me, too,” he admits on a sigh. “Sorry. What can I get for you?”

“Um,” she says, shaking her head and smiling through still teary eyes. God. “A cup of jasmine tea would actually be nice.”

“Sure.” 

She pays quickly and tries to ignore his eyes as they follow her over to the tiny round table she chooses in the corner. One cup, she thinks. She’ll drink one cup of tea and be out of here quicker than even the lightning flaring outside, before anyone can say anything about it, and then head back to her apartment and think through every turn in life that got her there, sobbing in line at a tea shop as a mean boy she knew from high school tried not to call her on it.

But he has other plans, because when he brings her order to her, he doesn’t just leave like he’s supposed to, standing there for several awkward moments that feel as though they’re spanning lifetimes.

Yeah. The universe is definitely conspiring against her.

“So… you’re… good now?”

Katara stares at him blankly for a moment, feeling her jaw grow a little slack.

“Are you… checking on me?”

A beat. “I’m just very committed to customer service,” Zuko deadpans, and Katara can’t help but laugh.

“Right,” she says. “Yeah. I’m… good. Thank you.” He nods—just once, a rigid jerk of his head—and starts to turn on his heel to leave.

But for some reason, she suddenly doesn’t want that. He’s being… almost kind of sweet, and it’s so incongruous with the memory she has of him that it kindles a new kind of curiosity.  “We went to school together, you know,” she says quickly, before he can fully turn around. He pauses in his tracks. “You probably don’t remember, but—”

“I remember you,” Zuko says before she can even finish. She frowns, intrigued. “You always wore your hair up in a braid and those loops. And once, even though we barely knew each other,” he adds with the faint traces of a smile, “you told off that kid when he was… uh…” The smile fades.

Katara remembers suddenly. It was an overcast day, not unlike the way this one had started, and Zuko had been sitting alone in the courtyard, not bothering anyone (for once) as Katara made her way to lunch when she saw some other kid go up to him to start needling him, saying horrible things about his scar. Very loudly.

Katara hadn’t liked that, so she’d marched right over and told the kid so. Also very loudly.

She’s pretty sure that’s the only time she and Zuko even tangentially interacted, and even then, they hadn’t spoken any actual words to each other. Everything else she knew about him came from stories and distant observation.

“When he was being a dick,” she finishes for him.

“Yeah,” Zuko says. Peering through his eyelashes, he adds more quietly, “I’ve always remembered that.”

“Really?”

A shrug of his shoulders. “You didn’t have to do that, but you did anyway.”

“I don’t like cruel people.” He nods, hands in his pockets, eyes suddenly downcast and looking almost a little ashamed. It makes her sort of sad. “Do you have time to sit?” Katara asks suddenly.

He looks surprised as he glances back at up her. “What?”

“I mean, I know you’re working, so don’t worry about it if not,” she adds in a hurry, tripping over he words. “I just thought maybe…”

“My shift’s actually over,” he answers, and suddenly, there’s a soft, sort-of-shy smile playing on his lips. “I—I could sit.”

He pulls the chair out and sits while Katara sips at her tea. It really is quite good.

“This is almost making up for the rest of my day,” she laughs, and his face scrunches up, maybe almost amused.

But then, the expression morphs. “Why was your day so bad, Katara?”

She’s surprised to find he ever knew her name, let alone remembers it now. He really is full of surprises. 

She could tell him the simple version, the actual events without the why she was taking it so hard, without divulging what it was really about… but, well…

He seems sincere enough in asking, at any rate.

“I just… I lost my mother when I was really young,” she begins to explain, feeling sort of choked-up and tight in her chest again, but no tears threaten to fall right now.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, and she looks up to meet his gaze, swimming with undeniable sympathy. “That’s something we have in common.”

She looks at him for a long moment, surprised. This is something they share, then. Something they can understand about each other. “I’m sorry, too. It’s awful. And… today is the anniversary. I usually just try to keep busy, but…”

“But everything went wrong?”

Katara hums.

“That’s the fucking worst,” he says bluntly, and Katara laughs then. He has very little tact, it seems, but also, yeah. It is. And it’s nice for someone to be able to… just say it. To feel it with her.

“It is the fucking worst,” she agrees. “But… I really am doing better now.”

“I’m glad,” he says, but he frowns, staring down at his hands, which are splayed on the table. “I really shouldn’t keep you from your day."

“I mean… the rest of my plans for the day have sort of fallen apart, and I should probably wait out the rain anyway, so I might, uh,” she says, feeling suddenly shy and hesitant. “I might stick around for a while. Get one more of these,” she nods down to her cup, warm and solid in her hands. “You know.” She takes another sip.

His smile glints, but it’s soft, too, definitely as shy as she feels. “I could do with a cup.”

Katara’s own smile grows wider.

The kindly older man who runs the shop—Zuko's uncle, Katara learns quickly—brings them out another round of jasmine, two cups this time, and Zuko slowly raises his in a cheers motions motion, a little awkward and a lot funny.

“To awful days?” he says with a raise of his brow.

“And to perfect storms,” she adds in agreement, laughter bubbling in her chest.

They clink their teacups together.

[harrywavycurly]

I need a conversation between Eddie and reader in It Was Just One Night when he comes over and is rubbing her back or while they are eating

Hiii babes!! I will happily give you this! I hope you enjoy all them trying to be nicer to each other but also it’s a work in progress 😂🙈💖

-find all things One Night Stand Eddie here✨

*Eddie doesn’t really know what he’s doing but you honestly don’t care because he has food*

“Is this…to like..rough?” “Huh?” “Is this…are you eating cheese fries while I rub your back?” “Yes? I’m about to be a mom I need to get used to multitasking.” “That’s true I guess…so uhm…how was your day?” “It was good oh I have something for your apartment.” “You do?” “Yeah it’s on the counter in the kitchen…don’t judge the wrapping job.” “Do you want me to open it now or like…later?” “Eddie it’s just a house warming gift…you can open it whenever you want…oh that feels so good.” “Don’t fall asleep because you’ll just face plant into your fries and I know you’d cry for wasting them.” “Wow you know me so well…don’t worry I’ll tell you when I’m getting sleepy…so how was your day?” “It was fine…worked on getting Dotty’s room together.” “What’s the theme? Rock and roll with a hint of pink?” “No I went with uhm the baby pink and pale yellow polka dot theme you…liked…it was easier to find the whole crib set and stuff so yeah hopefully she likes it.” “You hated that set when I showed it to you at the store.” “Yeah well…it grew on me.” “Did you bring your vest?” “Oh no I’m sorry I forgot.” “That’s fine I’ll just come over tomorrow…I need to see what you’ve done with the place.” “You sure you aren’t sleepy? You’re not eating your fries.” “I’m…kinda sorta…getting sleepy.” “Okay then come on let me take these…now just get comfortable and I’ll rub your back a little more.” “I want to see you open your gift.” “Uh then….just get comfortable while I go get it.” “I swear if you laugh at the wrapping I’m going to cry.” “Oh relax…it’s not even that bad…I’m a little scared to open it.” “Don’t be annoying.” “Oh wow…is this-” “the first time we saw Dotty on an ultrasound? Yes…figured you’d like to have your own copy in your apartment…sorry if the frame doesn’t go with your decor.” “It’s perfect…thanks.” “You’re welcome…do you mind turning the lamp off?” “Oh shit yeah yeah sorry…” “goodnight Eddie.” “Uhm goodnight…I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” “You can just sleep in here…don’t make a big thing about it okay? I can feel your awkwardness from here..it’s a king sized bed so don’t worry we won’t even touch.” “Are you sure?” “Mhhm.” “Words please…I really need to hear you say it…are you sure you want me to sleep in here with you? Or is it just the cheese fries and chicken nugget induced euphoria that has you saying crazy things like this?” “You are so fucking dramatic…yes Eddie it’s fine if you sleep in here with me.” “Okay…then I’ll sleep in here.” “Awesome…goodnight Eddie.” “Goodnight…uh can I say..goodnight to her?” “Sure…” “goodnight Princess…daddy loves you…let your mom sleep tonight okay? Because daddy doesn’t wanna be woken up fifty times in the middle of the night so she can go pee.” “Let’s see how well she listens to you..”

[pinkmelodie]

Can we get an overworked reader x Gaz where the reader Accidently snaps on Gaz, and Gaz tries to calm her down and it like.. Ends in fluff? 🥺

Of course !! Thank you so much for the ask ^^ This is my first one ever, so I hope it’s what you wanted!

Gaz just wants his luv to sleep !!

Warnings: Just a tiny bit of angst but then fluff! Reader has no specified gender but is called luv.

. . .

“Luv please….you need to lie down.” He said softly, placing a gentle hand on your back to try and guide you to the tattered couch in your office.

“I can’t, I need to finish filing these reports before the new recruits come in for training tomorrow-“ 

“Today.” He cut you off. “It’s two in the morning, they come at six.”

“What?!” You gawk at him, shoving his hand away and running back to your desk. “Why would you let me get distracted- I still have atleast 20 to fill out!” You rambled, fumbling with the papers you failed to organize.

“Now Y/N-“ He tried to say, but you bombarded him with questions like; ‘How many recruits is there that Price agreed to help train? How many guns do we have to spare? Which task forces is he planning for them to be sent to? Can you pass me that pen?

“Slow down there dove, Price hasn’t told me everything yet but-“

“Then why- I just need you to-“ you struggled to find the words, groaning and rummaging through the pile of documents, trying to get your overtired brain to focus on the information in front of you. 

“Your brain can’t work like this lovie, you seriously need to get some sleep.” He tried again, looking so unbothered it made your jaw clench before you could get a hold of your rapidly rising temper.

Finally you snapped, slamming your pen down on the table. “Look Gaz, if you’re not going to help just get out! I can’t afford to sit and do nothing like you right now.” You shouted, seething until you took in his shocked expression and the pure crassness of your words hit you. 

You stuttered, trying desperately to explain yourself. “Gaz, no I-“

“I already filled them out for you when you were running around helping Price earlier.” He stated, and you raised an eyebrow in confusion. “I saw how much you had to do and figured you were going to overwork yourself again getting it done, so I did it.” He admitted, not looking hurt at all by your words but instead cocky. “Go on, look at them again.”

With a wince, you shuffled through the papers again and noticed all 30+ reports were in fact filled out. In way nicer handwriting too, and with far more information than your quickly scribbled out mess on the previous 8 or so pages.

“Gaz.” You muttered, then whined into your palms with so much misery he cackled.

“Thank you- seriously, you’re so sweet and thoughtful and I’m just a- a mess.” You grumbled guiltily, pouting up at him.

He just shrugged. “Well, you’re my mess, and I think my mess could use some sleep.” He smiled playfully, holding out his arms to you.

You rolled your eyes but smiled back and stood up from the desk, rushing to run around it and fall into his arms. He wrapped those strong biceps around you, and suddenly you felt okay.

“Not on this old ass couch tho, even someone so cruel to me deserves better….” He sighed dramatically, making you slap him in the arm. You went to explain yourself but let out a surprised squeak when he picked you up bridal-style and carried you back to his quarters with ease. You blushed and squirmed in his arms, scared someone might see, but he couldn’t care less if anyone found out you were dating. He simply tossed you on the bed and jumped right in next to you, tugging you by the hip into his warm chest.

“I really am sorry.” You mumbled. “I don’t know why I acted like that, you’ve been nothing but sweet and supportive….”

“You’re stressed, I get it. Just next time, try to accept my help.” He replied softly while playing with your hair.

“I will.” You promised, burying your face into his neck and laying your arms over his shoulders comfortably. Within seconds you fell asleep in his warm embrace, and he followed soon after adding—“Goodnight my love.”

I really hope this was good!! Procrastination is hitting me like a brick but I really wanted to do this ask for you, and it honestly boosted my motivation so thank you !! ♡ I have a König blurb in my drafts that I’ll try to get out by tommorow, and another fic in the works…from a different fandom this time >:) Have a good night/day lovelies!! -Melo

[bokettochild]

Febuwhump suggestion for “hostage situation” if I may

Ravio being held captive by some villain? (Preferably resurrected Yuga for angst?)

As someone who STILL hasn't played ALBW (I tried!) I wasn't able to swing Yuga. i'm not sure how I would do that, but... I may have figured out something else? Don't worry, Ravio still suffers >:)

Rating: Teen

Wordcount: 7,066

Summary: Mister Hero never goes unarmed, and Ravio discovers just WHY when an old enemy from his friend's life reappears and mistakes him for Link. Perhaps, when Mister Hero gets back, he's going to ask for fighting lessons. That is, if he survives the gladiator's arena.

(Note: LoZ Manga references. You don't need to know much, just that Legend is, in the manga, a gladiatorial champion.)

-

There’s one rule Mister Hero has always kept: do not stray from the house without a weapon. 

 He’s laughed at the other for it a few times, during the time when they shared the home, and sickness, injury, or exhaustion had stopped the hero from being out and about fulfilling their work. He’d felt guilty, at times, for letting the other lad do everything, so on the days when Mister Hero did decide to allow himself to relax a bit, he’d tried to make them enjoyable. He took on most of the work of cooking and keeping the house anyways, and doing the tiniest bit extra to accommodate the hero was hardly any burden, what with how much work the other was doing for him. Even on rest days though, Mister Hero has never been one to sit idle. Provided he didn’t end up sleeping the day away out of exhaustion, he would typically slip out to tend the garden and orchard to ensure the coming harvest wasn’t lost, and trips to the market also came about to restock the house’s spacious pantry. 

The market in Kakariko is so much nicer than those in Thieves Town, which were always louder, dangerous, and usually somewhat violent. The people of Hyrule, in comparison to Lorule, are a peaceful sort, so seeing Mister Hero arm himself before leaving the house had been odd. 

“You’re not returning to the road already, are you?” He’d asked. 

Honest eyes had turned to him, stare heavy, and trying so hard to find something to focus on, what with Ravio’s own face still having been covered at the time. “No.” 

“Then why are you arming yourself?” He’d asked. He'd already explored the area around the house, including the village, and while the roads between could be a bit rough, it was never anything that couldn’t be avoided. A sword seemed to be overkill. 

“Why aren’t you?” Mister Hero had stared at him. He'd been to Lorule already at that point, so perhaps it made sense that he’d presume Ravio would feel a similar need to prepare against a foe, but the merchant was doing no such thing.  

Sure, he has a knife, but he doesn’t really use it unless he really needs to, and even then, it’s mostly just for a quick stab or slice so he can have time to get away. He's never been much of a fighter, and no one had wanted to teach him either, saying he was too small to handle a weapon, or fight at all. Now that he’s met Mister Hero, he knows that’s all poppycock, since the hylian wields many a weapon with skill superior to the average knight, despite being even smaller than Ravio is- if only by an inch or so. Still, he doesn’t really want to learn to fight, and finding favor at the castle had meant he hasn’t needed to since his early childhood, working for Hilda usually keeps him well away from anyone and anyone who wanted to harm him. There were some more aggressive persons in the castle, but the threat of the queen’s wrath was too great for them to risk anything. 

“Kakraiko is safe,” he’d answered, voice warm to convey a smile the hero couldn’t see. “Why would I need to?” 

“Danger can appear anywhere,” and something had snapped behind violet eyes, “you shouldn’t relax your guard just because it looks safe.” 

The words have stuck with him since then. Granted, he’s not faced much since, staying mainly at the house while Mister hero had tended to their mission, but after it was over, and they’d parted ways, he’d not strayed much from the castle. He’s kept to his own and in spaces shielded by magic, so weapons weren’t something he needed. Granted, when he’d taken the portal that opened to him in the castle, tumbling out into a new era and meeting a new hero, he had been called upon to fight at times, and he had had a weapon then, but he’s really not the aggressive sort. Fighting isn’t in his nature any more than sitting still is in Mister Hero’s. 

Now returned safely to his own era by a very apologetic Lana, he’s taken up his old habits from living in Hyrule. He’s got his knife, of course, because after that one time, Mister Hero had taken to asking him, at random times, if he was armed. The hero is obsessive about it, but then again, he is about many things.  

Once it was all over and Yuga had been defeated, but before they’d gone their separate ways, he’d seen Mister Hero actually fully disarm for the first time. They’d been exhausted by the day; its emotions, the battle, and just everything. There was an intent to close the connection between their worlds, but Hilda had promised them some time. He’s thankful for it too, although that day had been simultaneously one of the worst and best in his life. 

They’d gone back to the house, both awkward with each other and not speaking at all until abruptly Mister Hero had announced that he would be having a bath. His joints ached from the fight and he needed to relax, so he’d drawn a bath into the wooden tub he kept in the house, set before the fire to keep it warm, and while Ravio had had every intention of leaving him to his privacy (goodness knows he had no room to disrespect such a thing after all his fuss about his hood!) he’d sort of gotten distracted when he’d seen the hero disarming. First the sword and belt had come off. They weren’t put away though but set on the floor close enough to reach from in the tub, which really had been a very clear indicator of how wary and distrustful a person his hero is. After those then had been the knives; he thinks there must have been at least a dozen hidden beneath the clothes of the hero, and even after those were all set aside, there came the medallions, the rings, the earrings with protective magic, the magic infused tunics, the boots. He'd left when clothes started coming off, because Mister Hero had asked, rather flustered as he’s fiddled with the buttons of his shift, if Ravio was intending to ogle him the whole time and he’d hurried out as answer.  

Really though, it came as a bit of a shock to realize just how much in the ways of weapons and defensive tools the hero carried. 

He doesn’t see a need for that though. He keeps the knife, but nothing else. He’s not a fighter, he’ll never be a fighter, and he doesn’t have any wish to either. 

Sometimes, looking at the home buried under a decade’s worth of adventures, he wonders if Mister Hero ever wanted it either, but it’s sort of a null point now, considering there’s really no changing things. Even if he wanted too, he doesn’t think Mister Hero is capable of spending any part of his life without at least one weapon in easy reach at all times. 

It’s fine though. As the hero, it makes sense that his housemate is armed, and him being able to defend himself is important in his line of work. Ravio, however, has no such needs. Any enemies he’s made, he’s left them behind in Lorule, and there’s no way for them to slip across to get at him now. The house is well guarded at all times, between the magic twined through the trees and the bees that sting anything and anyone that they deem a threat. Out in town, he’s got the good sense to be aware of his surroundings, but fighting, even with people who want to harm him, isn’t really necessary. He’s fast enough to evade blows and slip out of their clutches in the case of anyone actually wanting to hurt him, and again, that’s very rare, especially once they get the idea that he’s not worth the trouble. 

Since returning to Hyrule, there’s really been no trouble whatsoever, so maybe he is slightly to blame for having let his guard drop. Yes, if he’d only been a bit more aware- but he hadn’t and now Mister Hero is definitely never going to relax about his safety ever again. 

He’s on the road, headed to the market to fill the pantry again. It’s not that it ever really empties, but Mister Hero always likes to keep it full to brimming on the off chance of not being able to restock for one reason or another. Illness, war and sometimes his own safety are some of the reasons he’s cited for not being able to get out, or shop for food. He thinks there’s maybe more to it, maybe something to do with the hero’s stunted growth, but he doesn’t ask. If anything, he’s just as happy to make sure they never run out of food, as Lorule hadn’t exactly been the most prosperous place to live either. 

The roads aren’t any worse than normal, and now that Yuga and Ganon aren’t an issue anymore, teh soldiers are no longer nearly as aggressive. They've tamed some, and between the efforts of the hero and Hyrule’s princess, they’d begun training new knights who’ve never known the touch of dark magic that so altered the minds of their former defenders. Link is still chased down, of course, but Ravio himself is at no risk, and he’s able to simply slip past the patrolling soldiers with a brief wave on his way down the path. The younger of the two men nods in answer, but neither stop in their route back to the castle. Just the same, he doesn’t stop on his way to Kakariko.  

Celeste, the elder’s wife, had let slip that traders from out Holodrum way were traveling through the kingdom and would likely stop at the village before heading on the Castletown, and after hearing Mister Hero rave about the fruits found in the other kingdom, he’s determined to see if he can’t find some to serve when next his doppelganger and companions arrive back in this time. It’ll be a delightful treat! He hasn’t really seen the hero smile in a bit, and he’s sure he can maybe get him to crack even the smallest of smiles if he makes something especially good. 

Then again, he could just make cocoa, but honestly, he needs to expand his arsenal! 

His attention is sort of on trying to estimate the cost of imported fruits and remembering if they have any recopies for them anywhere (he could just ask, but it would ruin the surprise) so he doesn’t exactly notice until it’s too late that he’s been being followed. Really, he wouldn’t have noticed at all if a hand didn’t suddenly catch ahold of him, grip far too strong to be ignored and making him stumble in his steps. 

“Excuse me-” some offended comment is about to drop from his lips, but he doesn’t exactly get a chance to finish it. Something soft, but with a strong smell is suddenly thrust over his nose and mouth and the merchant finds that any and all words drift out of his mind, thoughts fading all together as darkness steals there place. 

Whomever it was that had grabbed him, he sags into their hold as his final action before his consciousness is lost. 

- 

Coming to, he sort of expects... well, he’s not sure. His head is throbbing and fuzzy, but there’s the vague inclination that usually, when the advisor to a queen is captured, they’ll wake up to...well, not this! 

He's seen the torture chambers in Lorule Castle, and through no fault of his own, is aware of the Sheikah equivalent in Hyrule. He knows that when it comes to people in his position, no time is wasted on the off chance that a noble sends out a rescue of some sort, so if it’s information that’s wanted, well, he’d be waking up in a good deal more pain than he actually does. Blinking his eyes open though, he’s not in a dungeon. Sure, there’s stone walls and a (probably) locked door, but the sunlight that bleeds in through a small, glass paned window, indicates that whatever place this is, it’s not exactly a holding cell either. In one brief glance around, he can see at least two viable escape paths, and besides, it’s clear that someone is very much living in this space. 

Yes, someone is living here, and based off of the figure currently sitting before him, a bottle dangling from their fingers, it’s a very, very big someone. Lolia below, the man is at least as tall as twice of him and one leg alone is as wide as the merchant’s whole body! What sort of a monster of a man is this? And furthermore, why is he looking down at him with such hatred and ire? 

“Just as you asked,” a clipped, almost posh sounding voice, sounds from beside him, and swiveling his eyes over, he sees a decent looking fellow, either Hylian or human- he can’t tell past the hood, smiling up at the giant in the room. “One hero.” 

Oh fiddlesticks, are these people looking for Mister Hero? 

“You sure it’s him?” The giant’s voice is booming, echoing slightly off the walls even as it slurs slightly. 

The young man in the hood nods, smile almost attractive if it wasn't so cold. “Certainly. You wanted a Link Lon? Well, I tracked down his residence and watched for days. This one-” a hand catches his shoulder and shakes, and he moves to protest the rough treatment only to find there’s a gag stopping him doing so, “- was the only one to show his face. Lucky for us though, he matches your description: black hair, short and built like a child’s doll.” It would almost be a compliment, back in Lorule, to be told he looked like a doll, and he knows in Hyrule, there are many people who teasingly call Mister Hero that, but here it almost sounds derogatory, like that’s something to his discredit. 

The giant hums lowly, eyes trailing over him, glazed over and not quite all there. Still, he hopes that the man will realize that whomever they’re looking for, it’s not him. Mister Hero’s name might be the one they’re using, but last he knew, the hero has blonde hair, not black. That is the only real distinction between them, other than their eyes, but he desperately doesn’t want to believe that his friend is the target of these clearly ill-intentioned men either. Good grief, what do they even want him for? 

“Alright,” the giant growls, turning and retrieving a small sack from the table beside him, one which he hands to the hooded fellow, who takes it with an eager smile. “There, for your troubles.” 

It's clear Hood has experience, because he doesn’t take the bag and go, but opens it to briefly check its contents, charming smile dropping a moment later for a sharp look. “This isn’t what we agreed upon.” 

“You took too long.” 

Honestly, as a businessman himself, he’s slightly affronted on his capturer’s behalf! The man has no issue expressing the same anger though. “We agreed on two hundred rupees! This is barely a hundred!” At no response, the man presses on. “I hunted down the Hero of Hyrule for you and dragged him all the way out to Lynna City on your behalf. Of course it took time! You think he’s easy to tempt out of his little magical den?” 

The chair that the giant sits on screeches as the man stands, and he’s really very, very huge when standing, head brushing the ceiling overhead as the chair crashes back against the floor. “Are we going to have a problem?”  

Perhaps smarter than the average crook, Hood huffs, biting back whatever it is that he wants to say, and instead gathering up his earnings before leaving the room. That leaves Ravio alone with the giant. Oh, dear darkness, please let this all be a bad dream! He knows it’s not though. His dreams would have Yuga in the place of the giant, or maybe Ganon. He’s also pretty sure Mister Hero had said once that every face you see in your dreams is a person you’ve met, and he’s never met anyone who looks like the monster of a man before him. 

The monster smirks, picking up his fallen chair and settling into it again. It's too small for him, but somehow, it doesn't fall to pieces under his bulk. “You’re a hard kid to find, pipsqueak,” the giant drawls, grabbing again for the bottle that’s dwarfed considerably in his hands and taking a swig. It’s clear he’s had plenty of whatever’s inside of it already, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping him at all. “That’s the third one I hired.” This time the words are a growl. 

He wants, very badly, to exclaim that he’s not the hero and that maybe the trouble is that Mister Hero is never at home, but he sort of can’t. Good grief, he really hates gags, and the ropes bound around his arms and wrists aren’t particularly welcome either! From where he’s slumped on the floor, maybe having been dropped, maybe placed, he can’t be sure- he can see that his feet are free, and had it actually been Mister Hero they’d caught, that would be a deadly mistake. Between the fogginess of his head and the length of his robes though, he’s not particularly confident in his ability to stand right now, much less do anything to try and attack his friend’s apparent enemy. 

It’s clear no attack is expected either, as the giant settles back, leaning heavily on a table that creaks and groans at protest to his weight. “You owe me a rematch, pipsqueak,” comes the rough growl, slurring slightly at the ends of the words. “It’s been a long time coming, but Lynna City’s going to see that Buri Bonebreaker doesn’t accept defeat.” 

He doesn’t know what on earth is going on, but whatever it is, it keeps going. Still, from the blather of the drunken man, he can gather at least some information. First, that this person is called Buri and he has a minor obsession with Ravio’s hero counterpart. Second, they’re not in Hyrule anymore, but in a place called Lynna City, which, if he recalls correctly from Mister Hero’s many, many maps, is somewhere on the coast in Labrynna. Thirdly, Buri has something of a grudge against Mister Hero, and while he doesn't explain fully, the merchant gets the impression that the cause has something to do with a fight the man had somehow lost to the hero some years ago. How Mister Hero ever defeated a man this size so many years ago, he can’t imagine, but considering the other had already fought Ganon twice before they’d ever met, it would follow that he’s probably strong enough to have taken on some other foes too and won, even if the odds would definitely appear to be very much not in his favor. 

Lastly, he manages, after what feels like hours of being sneered and jeered at, to learn one final, and perhaps far more important piece of information; Buri apparently has every intention of having a “rematch” with Mister Hero, tomorrow. And he thinks Ravio is the hero, so Ravio is going to be the one who’s involved in this rematch instead of Link! 

Eventually, the giant passes out against the table, but Ravio, still stuck on the floor and still very much in pain from the pounding headache from whatever herbs were used to knock him out, is left unable to do anything save sit and panic. 

He can’t fight a giant. He couldn’t even fight Yuga who, for all intents and purposes, was just a man, ordinarily sized and without much proficiency in anything besides magic to aid him in fighting. He'd had to get Mister Hero to handle that one, and he’s still never gone up against anything in an actual fight in years! The closest was fighting off some bigger children in Thieves Town when he was a kid, and even then, he’d ended up running away as soon as he’d managed to get free from their grasp, food blessedly still in hand. He’s not improved in skill, hasn’t even tried, but this time there won’t be any avoiding it. 

If the cheering he can hear, rumbling outside like a wave of thunder, is a good enough indicator, he has a rather awful suspicion that this fight won’t exactly be a throwdown in an alleyway or a house. What’s outside sounds like a full-blown arena, and that means his destruction and shame will most likely be on full display to anyone and everyone who’s in there. 

Dark hair hits the wall, and he groans. 

He wishes Mister Hero was here. Him, or Hilda, or even Miss Zelda. Anyone who knew enough to give him a helping hand, or at least enough advice on how to slip out. Selfishly, he thinks at least his counterpart could handle being captured, because he’d escape easily, probably before even being brought to the person who’d put a bounty on his head in the first place! He has no such skill though, and the best he has is a knife he can’t reach and a desperation to not die anytime soon. 

Hopefully, that’l do him some good, but he deson’t exactly have high expectations. 

- 

His expectations drop in the morning. 

He was right, it is a blasted stadium that he’s been hauled to, and now he’s left standing in the middle of it, armed only with a knife that looks like a child’s toy in comparison to the axe in the hand of the man before him. Ravio’s heart is beating too fast to probably be good for him, and his breath keeps catching in his throat as he watches from the sidelines as Buri and another, apparently stupid person, duke it out before the crowd. It’s apparent that this is a tiered event, and so far, the giant hasn't lost, but he has left his opponents lying as bloody messes all over the arena to be scraped up by others and hauled away to be fixed up. 

Arena fighting is a huge part of Lorulian culture, so he can’t say he doesn’t understand how such a thing can exist in a kingdom, but he never did get the appeal. There's so much blood and violence! Dread pools up in his stomach as the match he’s watching comes to another bloody end, the announcer calling out, voice loud and carrying over the whole of the area, telling the crowd that the match is won. The winner is clearly apparent, his smile still crazed in the morning light even without having hit the bottle again, and the merchant’s stomach lurches as its fixed on him.  

The announcer continues, unaware, but telling the crowd about a special treat that’s apparently been prepared. Hearing Link’s name so loudly proclaimed isn’t nearly as exciting as it would be to know his friend was battling at Treacherous Tower, where he knows the other is the champion and quite capable of making it out alive. Here though, it’s the same title, apparently uncontested over the years, and this, the announcer tells the crowd, is the first rematch between competitors from five years ago, when the title was last taken. It makes a lot of sense to learn Link had won that title from the giant, hence the man’s lingering resentment and anger. Still, that’s not helping him at all. 

The hooded man, who apparently had wanted to stick around for the fight and is claiming a portion of the inevitable winnings of the giant in return for keeping an eye on Ravio, turns to him with a smirk. “You’re up, mate. Best of luck.” It feels like a taunt. 

The moment the gag comes off, he’s trying to protest, to tell the man that he grabbed the wrong person, that he’s not even a hylian, that he isn’t the hero! His words go unheard though, ropes quickly cut away before he’s pushed out and into the arena, the door between the waiting space for competitors and the main stage pulling shut loudly behind him. 

Oh, he is so going to die! 

The giant’s smile is a mad thing as he comes flying along, feet rumbling at the earth as the merchant fumbles at his sleeves, looking for the knife he keeps there, searching, seeking- there! He’s got it out and just in time to start running away, to dart as fast as his feet will carry him. 

Yet, his feet that fumble to move, to step at all after sitting tied up all night. He trips. 

Thundering steps slow, and he can see the shadow of a figure with an axe raised, although he’s too busy scrabbling to get back on his feet to even dare look back behind him, and then- 

A loud clang sounds through the arena, and a hush falls over the screaming crowd. 

The noise rings in his ears, painfully loud, and this time he can’t help but cover them, shifting up onto his knees and looking over his shoulder to see what in Lolia’s name has brought about so great a crashing sound. 

A familiar blue cap and glittering sword makes him nearly start sobbing in relief right then and there. The giant’s axe has fallen, but not on him, nor on the stone, but caught on the shield of his very own Mister Hero, who’s shaking just slightly from the impact but facing the gladiator head on and unblinking. 

“You...” the giant’s eyes widen, still crazed, but at least more focused than the drunken state of the night before. 

“Me.” He can’t see, not with the hero’s back turned to him, but he can hear the smirk as the shield is pushed up and the axe is cast off, rising again in another blow only for the call of the announcer to sound. 

He’s not entirely sure what happens after that. He only knows that, somehow, the giant catches ahold of him and starts yelling at Mister Hero, who yells back, sword raised and eyes glinting dangerously as they dart from Ravio’s terror filled face to the frothing rage of the giant. The announcer, who may or may not be acting as scorekeeper, darts over, and then the yelling gets to be so much that he can barely make out any of it over the furious pounding of his heart in his ears and throat. 

“I paid good money for this slip,” he’s shaken by a huge hand, “you have no claim over him!” 

“He’s my housemate, you asshole!” Mister Hero’s eyes are blazing as he hisses up at the face twice as high as his own. “How on earth did you think he was me? Let him go!” 

But the man won’t. There's more yelling, threats, drawing of blades and swinging that’s quickly stopped by the announcer, who jumps between the two with more guts than Ravio would suppose the fellow would have, hands raised to either of them. “I promised the audience a fight, so-” 

“You got the wrong Link Lon!” Mister Hero hisses. “You promised them a championship fight, but you’re not even bringing in the champion?” His voice carries, no doubt intentionally, and there’s murmuring from in the stands that clearly has the announcer, who Ravio supposes might also be the owner of the establishment, on edge. 

“We were informed-” 

“Your informant is brain dead if he can’t tell the difference between the Lynna City champion and some random fellow on the road!” And then the yelling starts again, and there’s fussing and there’s pointing of fingers, but Mister Hero’s eyes aren’t on the announcer anymore. They’re on Ravio. “Let him go.” 

The hand holding him by his neck, which is far tighter than he’d like, tightens even further. “No.” 

“He’s got nothing to do with this.” 

“He’s your housemate,” there’s a smile in that voice he definitely doesn't like. “Your friend, yeah?” And the tone drops, a growl that rumbles through the hand around his throat. “You owe me a rematch, pipsqueak.” 

“I don’t owe you a thing.” Dark eyes flit between him and the giant warily, and the hand on the Tempered Sword is tightening, adjusting its hold, ready to make a plunge even as the announcer yells something at the two fighters. 

Another squeeze cuts off his breath for a moment, but blessedly releases it just a second after. “You want his freedom? You have to win it!” 

Realization dawns, quickly overtaken with a sharpness and ferocity he remembers seeing directed at Hilda, at Yuga, at Gannon. Mister Hero is ready for the fight, and he’s pissed. “Fine. Let him go, and you’ll have your rematch.” 

“Win,” the giant hisses, leaning down enough that spit flies of his lips as he speaks and spatters over the hero’s cheeks, “and he’s all yours.” 

That seems to quiet the announcer too, who catches ahold of Ravio and surprisingly is met with no resistance as he tries dragging him away. The man’s strong, not as strong as the giant, but the merchant is hard pressed to get his hands free as he’s hauled across the stadium to a small platform where he’s quickly jerked to a stop. The voice of the announcer is even more painful up close and personal, and it rings over the crowd, announcing the change in competition, the foul play of a fake hero, but that the champion is in fact here now to defend his title. It’s all well and good, until he holds up Ravio’s hands and announces that the merchant is the “lovely prize” that the winner gets to take home. That’s too far, but unfortunately, Hood is back close at hand, offering to “mind the merchandise” so the announcer can attend to his actual duties. 

He’s had maybe ten minutes with his hands unbound, and despite the swings and every attempt to slip away, he finds himself once more tied up again as Mister Hero and the giant take their places across from each other in the ring. 

The crowd is well and truly losing their minds. 

Ravio himself is as well, worry building up as he watches. Yes, he knows his hero is capable, but this is a bit much. Ganon was one thing, Yuga too, because they used magic for most of their attacks. The presence of the huge axe, which would only take one swing to leave his friend in pieces, feels like so much more of a threat as he’s forced to just sit and watch. Well, not actually forced. Since no one’s doing more than keeping him from leaving, but he really does have to cover his eyes a few times as the giant’s weapon is raised and swung at the hero. Every time he dares to look though, Mister Hero is still standing. Blood paints the features of both fighters, but even Hood, at his side, whistles lowly a few times in a way he takes to mean his friend is doing surprisingly well. He's hard pressed to watch those moves though. That’s his hero in trouble, all because he’d gotten captured and hauled off to some strange country he’s never been to before.  

He is, perhaps, when they get back to Hyrule, consulting with Mister Hero’s smithy friend on getting a bigger knife. And lessons, he adds as he watches Link go flying over the giant’s head after performing a very impressive backspring, twisting in midair to swing his sword at the giant’s back. 

He’s watched the other train before, and he thinks Mister Hero calls that move a helm-splitter. It would make sense, given that if there was an armored helm to split, the force of that swing would most certainly have left it in pieces. A cry of pain rises from the giant as he spins around, just as the hylian hits the earth, rolling with the impact, quite literally, and all but bouncing back to his feet again the moment his momentum has run out. 

Mister Hero makes fighting look like a dance, and unconsciously, Ravio can pick up a subtle rhythm to his motions, a beat that’s followed like it’s a rule. It’s new, since he rarely sees any actual combat, and what he did was that one battle with their foes, not anything where the stakes were lesser than the fates of two kingdoms and all that lay within them. Here, all that’s on the line is his own safety, which he has no doubt the hero will preserve even if he did somehow lose, and the pride of his friend, which, considering all the other has already done in the name of saving others, probably isn’t nearly as much of a concern in the other’s head. Still, that desperation he’d seen turned on Ganon isn't here, if anything, Mister Hero is cold, closed off, face fixed in a stern look that’s only made lazing by the explosions of stars in his violet eyes. He’s fluid, twisting easily out of the way an not letting anything throw him off alance, off the steps of the unknown dance he’s crafted to use against his foe. 

And he makes the giant look like an incompetent idiot the whole while. 

Mister Hero’s laughter, not the wildly happy thing he’s seen once or twice, or the relieved desperation after everything was over and they were all safe, but a cold, cruel sort of sound that rings over the crowd, will sound after he avoids a blow. There’s damage done, yes; there’s blood flowing from injuries on both, but no full blow has landed on the hero, and he circles his prey as though he is the bigger, taunting and hissing, striking hard and fast and sure, feet gliding in the churned up dirt of the stadium, calling out to his opponent. 

It’s his way to know that Mister Hero is well and truly pissed. 

Buri is too, running, throwing his weight around, striking out in anger and missing, blinded by his rage as the hero glides out of reach and then flies forwards, blows landing hard and fast. 

Thye axe will lift and fall, and here and again, they do land close enough to tear skin and clothes, ort the edge will catch on the hero’s body just a second before he’s out of reach, leaving a stripe of crimson painted over sweat soaked skin. Still though, his hero doesn’t falter. One moment that great weapon is raised, Ravio shielding his eyes, and then there’s another hiss from his friend and he’s looking against to see blood flowing and feet moving, eyes flashing so bright they’re visible even from where he’s being kept like a trophy for the winner to claim. 

The dirt of the stadium is churned up all about, flecked with blood that’s quickly absorbed by already red stained dust. Feet shuffle, blades clang, and the shield of the hero raises, reflecting light into the eyes of onlookers.  

It’s one such flash of light that has him blinking, blinded, and opening his eyes a moment later to find that the hooded figure who’d hauled him here and now slumping across the ground before him. Another man, also hooded, but with red hair drifting over his eyes, flashes a smile at him. “Need an out there, mate?” 

It’s the same accent, but a deeper voice, and a kinder one, although it’s low with a whisper. A knife appears in one hand of the stranger, but it’s only turned to the rope on his hands.  

The announcer is too lost in his own shouting and excitement to even notice as the red-head catches Ravio by the hand- not the wrist or the neck, but the hand- and tugs him towards the door that separates the announcer’s space from the crowd. Quite frankly, he has no clue who this person is, but he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so far, they’re not threatening him or anything, just holding tight as they weave through the crowd, pulling him along through the screaming onlookers and towards what looks like it might actually be an exit. 

“Where-” 

“Patience.”  

It’s not the thing he wants to hear from a stranger hauling him away, but again, the man isn’t being rough with him. He’s had he continues too, because once the scream of the crowd fades and they’ve darted down a stair to a space below the seats, he sees some actually familiar faces waiting for him. 

“Mister Captain Hero Sir!” 

“Ravio!” The blonde spins about at the sound of his voice, relief washing over lovely features as he darts over, scarf billowing beautifully with the motion. A sturdy hand catches his shoulder, blue eyes flitting up and over him in a familiar once over that leaves both of them a little more at ease. 

“You’re okay!” Tune- Wind (he’s got to get that straight) throws his arms around him, and eagerly, Ravio hugs him back. He doesn’t get to hug long though, as the young sailor bounces back with furrowed brows, staring up the short distance between them with a faint frown. “How did you get away? The fight isn’t over yet!” 

The clearing of a throat has all the heroes glancing behind the merchant, eyes falling on his strange savior. “That would be me.” 

“And you are?” Mister Captain Hero asks, guarded and already looking ready to grab for his sword on the off chance that a fee be demanded for the merchant’s release. There’s no such request though. 

“A friend of your hero’s,” the red-head answers. “He can vouch for me once he’s finished kicking that idiot’s ass. I must say, his distraction worked nicely.” 

The question of ‘what distraction’ lingers in his head, but he doesn’t get a chance to ask it because, even if the sound of the crowds is dimmed from below, the mighty roar that sounds from above stops anyone from hearing anything else. 

The stranger smirks. “And that’s the idiot downed, I daresay.” 

As it turns out, he’s right. It’s only a moment or so more and Mister Hero is suddenly coming up to them, clutching one arm and bloodied to a concerning degree, but that’s all cast aside as the hero all but flies over and throws his arms around the merchant, grip almost painful for how tight it is. “Thank God you’re okay, you idiot.” 

“Oh, so you’re close friends,” the posh sounding voice of teh stranger chuckles. “I ought to have guessed.” 

He can feel the stiffening of the hero’s whole frame, but long ears prick forwards with an eagerness that’s not spoken at the sight of the redhead. “Ralph.” 

“Link.” 

“Thanks for grabbing him for me.” 

“My pleasure.” the man smirks. “You did put on such a lovely show, i don’t think anyone even noticed he was gone, they were so fixated on you.” 

A grin, sharp and bloodied from the busted nose his friend has acquired, is flashed, and that’s what ends the conversation as Mister Captain Hero steps in and demands they start treating Mister Hero’s injuries. The stranger, whom his doppelganger continues to address as ‘Ralph’, also demands that once first aid has been finished- which he takes no qualms in swiping off his gloves to aid with- they come ack with him to a “safer place to catch your breathes”. It’s a welcome thought, especially as Mister Hero agrees without question; a sure sign that it’s alright, for his friend would never agree if it was in any ways a risk. 

There’s questions, as they work to tend the rather copious amounts of cuts. What happened, why was Ravio captured, how does Mister Hero the giant, know the red-head, and of course what is going on in general. They’re all shut down though by the man called Ralph, who says there’s a time and a place for stories, but not while stopping someone from bleeding out. in Ravio’s experienced opinion, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but it does a decent job of granted a bit of silence to those doing wound care. 

Once the worst is tended, they’re heading out, moving quickly to avoid the crowds and the announcer who will no doubt have something to say to the veteran hero.  

Mister Hero keeps a hold of his hand the whole time they slip from the stadium, and even once they’re on the street, following the hero’s red-headed friend, he doesn’t let go. 

“No arguments,” the voice of his housemate is strained as it hisses between them, under still straining breathes but not exactly secretive, “when we get time, I’m teaching you to fight.” 

“Please.” he’d argued about it before, but quite frankly? He regrets that. “If something like this happens again, I don’t want to be useless.” 

One shoulder, the one that wasn’t nicked y the axe, checks against his own, dark eyes sparking as they tur on him. “This, will never happen again, okay? Never.” 

“But something similar-” 

“Ravio, I’m not letting anyone do that.” Violet hold green like the skies cradling the earth, only to break away a moment later with a huff. “But for pities sakes, there’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep knowing you’re as likely to hurt yourself with your weapon as you are someone else.” 

Rude! “You should have seen me in the war! My hammer wrecked quite the decent amount of destruction!” 

“Sure it did.” 

“I’m serious, Mister Hero!” 

But even for their words, the tone of his otherworldly twin is light, warm, and- for the hero at least- fond. 

He’s okay. They’re okay. Everything is going to be fine, and the only ones who aren’t are likely the giant and the announcer, who will have hell to pay from the crowd if Ravio was reading the situation right. Good riddance to bad rubbish though, and Mister Hero agrees with a tired laugh when he says as much. 

[sankttealeaf]

OC DEEP DIVE QUESTIONS

thanks for the tag @adorablebanite <3 tagging @kaleido-scope-lady @quacaserous @beecreeper @theviridianbunny & anyone else who wants to yap about their oc :3

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

Do they have any pet peeves?

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

What do they notice first in a person?

On a scale from 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

What animal represents them best?

What is a smell they dislike?

Have they broken any bones?

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Are they a night owl, or morning bird?

What’s a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

Do they have any hobbies?

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprise?

Do they like to wear jewelery?

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

Do they have a favourite fabric?

What kind of accent do they have?

handing you the questions here to make life easier, i'll answer for rue under the cut :3

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

fear of being abandoned. (she's just like me frrrr). pre-tadpole rue forms very strong attachments (see: her father. gortash.) and after being left alone many times before in her youth, she really struggles with the idea of being tossed aside

post-tadpole rue has a big fear of forgetting everything again. she's made lovely memories and writes down everything she does in extreme detail in case she ever wakes up without them again

Do they have any pet peeves?

people being too loud. she gets really bad headaches and will yell at people if they are being loud for no reason

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

1. the current book she is reading

2. a warm jumper in case she gets cold

3. her diary

What do they notice first in a person?

their eyes. easy to work out how they're feeling and useful to exploit later on

On a scale from 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?

10. i like to think there's been many times while travelling that rue has definitely broken an arm and she doesn't realise it until it starts bruising up (and then she reluctantly goes to shadowheart and asks her to fix it)

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

fight. when in doubt, fight your way out! her go to tactic in game is to intimidate others to get what she wants but if that doesnt work? start a fight. physical or verbal, doesnt matter

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

rue doesnt remember her upbringing but she had two foster siblings (both older than her!) she's very much a found family person. has a lot of issues with herself and the thought of being a mother, but happily adopts arabella and yenna (as well as the tiefling children from the grove) along their travels. i like to think yenna visits rue and gale in waterdeep as she gets older.

What animal represents them best?

cat. despite her being dog coded, she is a cat character to me. likes her space, a little nervous, gets the zoomies

What is a smell they dislike?

one of gortash's perfumes. it was thick and rich and had a horrible musky scent to it that kept making her sneeze. so he changes to the nicer, milder vanilla and rosewood :3

Have they broken any bones?

yes. turning into the slayer requires a lot of bones to crack to allow room for growth.

How would a stranger likely describe them?

off-putting. weird. quiet.

Are they a night owl, or morning bird?

night owl!! rue does NOT like mornings. pre tadpole she will sleep in until noon if the world lets her. post tadpole she is a napper. gale comes home from work and finds her napping in the living room with the evening sun on her

What’s a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

hate: anything overly sour.

love: salty things (adds extra salt to gale's food and he has a heart attack)

Do they have any hobbies?

too many!! post game rue has a lot of hobbies she picks up to keep the Dark Thoughts At Bay. she loves gardening, pottery and embroidery the most!!

their home in waterdeep is covered in things rue has made. hanging up in the living room above the fireplace is a painting of tara rue did that she absolutely hates but gale adores. he frames it and his mother has asked for one as well.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprise?

she cries (of happiness). i like to think the first year after the absolute crisis is over, gale plans a big surprise party and everyone's there. rue comes home from getting groceries, sees all her friends in her home and just bursts into tears.

Do they like to wear jewelery?

yes! she loves earrings (changes the little swords gortash gave her as a gift a few years after his death, but keeps them tucked away as a little reminder of him) now she has little star ones that she adores! (a gift from morena)

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

MESSY!!!!! she's just like me fr!! pre & post tadpole, that girl has such bad handwriting! sometimes she cant read it herself :')

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

love and guilt.

Do they have a favourite fabric?

she loooves a good velvet. warm and fancy and reminds her a bit of gortash

silk, too. again, reminds her of gortash.

What kind of accent do they have?

she's tav 4 in game, so i guess a little posh? i think ive described her voice as "sophisticated" before. soft and gentle spoken which adds to the creepiness of the horrible things she says :)

this was so fun!!! i love yapping about rue. girlie lives in my head rent free :) please help me get her out!!

[wheels-of-despair]

The First and Last Breakup of Eddie Munson and Evil Woman Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Once upon a time, two stupid teenagers fell in love. And then they broke up for a stupid reason and spent a whole week doing stupid things because they're stupid teenagers. Contains: A little Evil Woman backstory, a brotherly reveal, misery, idiots in love but being little bitches about it, a happy ending. Words: 5k

SATURDAY

You'd been at some fancy ski resort in Colorado with your father, his shiny new wife, and their two replacement children for seven days.

It felt like seven years.

You only had two precious weeks of winter break before classes switched over for the spring semester, and you'd wasted half of it with people you hated. (And your brother, who hated them just as much as you did.)

But after seven long days of listening to your father's fake laugh, your step-mother's snippy comments, wishing you could drop-kick her brats through a window, and picking tiny trees off your overpriced and underwhelming food, you were almost back home. You didn't typically care for plane rides, but this one wasn't bad at all. When you landed, you'd have someone waiting for you. (Other than your mother. Who you also loved. And were very excited to see.)

You were a little disappointed when you came through the terminal and didn't see him there. You'd kind of hoped he'd hitch a ride with your mom to maximize your remaining Eddie Time over break. But you recovered quickly, gave your mom a big smile and a hug, and called shotgun. (Suck it, bro. The united front only applies in hostile territory.)

You took turns filling her in on how much it sucked, how dumb your step-monster was, and how annoying her brats were.

He wasn't waiting for you at home, either.

"Have you heard from Eddie at all?" you asked as you dumped a pile of dirty clothes in the laundry room.

"Nope," your mom answers, sorting the lights from the darks. "Then again, I'm not really in contact with any teenagers who don't belong to me."

You glance at your watch. "His uncle's probably sleeping now, maybe I should ride over and see…"

"Go on, be back by dinner," she rolls her eyes. "You can bring Eddie with you if you want. I'm making your favorite."

"I should abandon you more often," you joke, dodging a dirty sock she'd tossed at you on your way out.

Eddie's van wasn't at the trailer. Or the arcade. Or the diner. Or any of his favorite places. You drove around town for what felt like half the day before finally giving up and going home.

"Find him?" your mom asks from her place at the stove. You shake your head. "Maybe he got the day wrong?"

"Maybe," you shrug, leaning against the door helplessly.

"Who knows what that little weirdo gets up to when you're not around to keep him in line. You'll find him. For now, why don't you go wake your brother up for dinner?"

You dropped the keys in the bowl by the door and went to do as you were asked. He'd passed out almost immediately after he walked in, happy to be back in his own bed. You envied him.

Dinner was nice. It would've been a lot nicer if your thigh had been pressed against Eddie's, and the scent of his body wash had mixed with the smell of your first decent meal in a week, but it was still nice to be home.

You called him after you knew Wayne would be at work. Three times. No answer. Where the hell is he?

You tossed and turned all night, imagining the worst.

SUNDAY

The next morning, you returned to the trailer. His van was there this time. You knocked on the door next to his bedroom. And then escalated it to a bang, since Wayne wasn't home yet, and Eddie sleeps like a rock.

"Eddie! Wake up!"

Finally, you hear him shuffling around. The door opens a crack.

"Honey, I'm home!" you grin, waiting for him to open the door and pull you in, maybe even kiss you all the way to his bed before pulling you under the covers to warm you up. There was nowhere you'd rather spend the rest of your vacation.

"Hey," he mumbles. "Hang on."

He closes the door in your surprised face and emerges a minute later, wearing an open coat over his bare chest. He'd shoved his feet into a pair of untied boots. His flannel pajama pants are bunched at the top of them. Isn't he cold? He drops onto the sofa on the porch and lights a cigarette.

The coldness of his actions hurts worse than the frigid winter air. What the hell? You've only been gone a week. Had seven days been long enough for him to decide he was happier without you?

"What are you doing here?" he asks, blowing smoke out of his nose and not meeting your eye. Did you do something wrong?

"I wanted to see you," you squeaked, suddenly feeling like an idiot. Are you being too clingy? Did you break up and forget about it?

"Aren't you sick of slummin' it with me?"

"What?" You're not sure you actually made a sound, but the cloud of condensation coming from your mouth indicates that you did.

"You know what I mean."

You shake your head. You don't know where this is headed, but you know you don't like it.

Eddie takes a deep drag. "How long are we gonna keep playing this game?"

"What game?"

"This. You and me."

You have no words.

"We should just get this over with and call it off now."

Your jaw drops.

"Ed…"

"Just go home," he barks, dropping his cigarette into the bucket he uses as an ash tray and going back inside, slamming the door behind him.

You don't know how long you stood there, staring at the door. But eventually, a chill shakes you, and you feel your body drifting back toward the car. You somehow find your way back home. You don't think you blinked during the entire drive.

You drop the keys in the bowl, kick off your shoes, and walk to your room like a zombie. You fall on your bed face-first, not even bothering to take your coat off. And then the crying starts.

MONDAY

That was harder than he thought it would be.

Eddie had thought things were going well. He'd found a girl who was funny, pretty, had good taste in music and movies, and most of all, was willing to put up with him.

It all began to unravel the night you left. He thought it was a little weird, announcing that you were jetting off to some fancy resort with the parent you hardly ever spoke of, like it was no big deal. You'd hardly mentioned it at all: "Oh, by the way, I'm gonna be gone for a week. You gonna miss me?"

Eddie realized he was running low on goods the day before your departure, but decided to prioritize; his supply run could wait another day. After a long goodbye that earned both of you several groans and eyerolls in your driveway as you held up the trip to the airport, he dropped by Rick's to resupply. Those college kids home for the holidays needed a lot of help putting up with their families. When he arrived, Rick and his friend Jimmy were bagging up a new shipment.

Rick asked where Eddie's other half was. Eddie may have bragged on occasion about finding someone perfect, because Rick was a cool guy who would appreciate a cool girl.

Jimmy, on the other hand, was a dick. Eddie didn't particularly want him to know anything more than he absolutely needed to about his personal life, but Rick had asked, and they both sat there waiting for an answer.

"She's with her dad for a week," he'd said tensely, hoping that would be the end of it.

"He live nearby?" Rick asked.

"New York, but they're in Colorado for now."

"Damn, man, that's a hell of a trip," Rick said, taking a swig of his beer.

"Yeah, she'll be back in a few days. Is that something new?" Eddie gestured to an off-colored bag of buds to Rick's right, trying to change the subject. The phone rang, and Rick got up to answer it with a groan, leaving Eddie alone with Jimmy.

"Munson's gone and got himself one of those little rich girls. Didn't think you had it in you, buddy."

"She's not a little rich girl."

"She's on vacation in Colorado. Lemme guess: Some fancy ski resort with a name you can't pronounce?"

Eddie blushed. Jimmy smirked.

"She treat you like a pet poodle? Feed you? Buy you treats when you're a good boy? Make you pose for a nice picture together so she could take you with her? That's to show daddy, bud. Maybe she'll get a new BMW for dumping your scraggly ass."

"Ease up, brother," Rick drawled, coming back into the room.

"Hey, man, I'm jealous!" Jimmy held his hands up in a gesture of surrender and laughed that grating laugh of his. "She got an older sister? Hell, what's her mom look like?"

"Shut up." Eddie growled.

"Here," Rick shoved a few plastic bags into a duffel bag and tossed it at Eddie. "Don't listen to his drunk ass."

But he did.

He let it eat at him for days as he sampled some new product and fixated on your four months together. Every time you'd argued about who was going to pay for dinner, or for a movie, or for the next arcade game. The way you stroked his hair and rubbed his back. Every time you'd packed something extra in your lunch for him. The patches and buttons you'd bring him back every time you visited the city with your mom. The way you claimed to love his grungy clothes and out-of-control hair and said his tiny, cramped bedroom felt like home. Maybe it really was too good to be true.

Didn't make it hurt any less, though.

TUESDAY

Eddie was woken by a frantic banging on the door. It was so intense, it rattled the walls. He grumbled, pulled himself out of the bed he'd hardly left in days, and flung the door open angrily.

"What the hell, Gareth?"

"What the hell did you do to my sister, Munson?" Eddie could practically feel the heat radiating off of the red-faced drummer standing at his door. Jeff was leaning against his mom's car by the road, arms crossed, looking like he wished he was elsewhere.

Eddie sighs. "It's for the best."

"Did you cheat on her?"

"No."

"Were you abducted and probed by aliens, and now need a little alone time to reflect on life?"

"No."

"Then what the fuck?!"

"We're from different worlds," Eddie shrugs, feeling the cold morning air seep in.

"The fuck does that mean?"

Eddie sighs. "Just let it go, man. It's done."

"The fuck does that mean, Eddie?"

"It means you spent your winter break skiing at some resort in Colorado, and I spent mine selling weed in the woods."

Gareth rolls his eyes so hard, Eddie can only see white.

"Is that seriously what this is about?"

Eddie shrugs and wishes he were wearing more clothes.

"You broke up with my sister because she went on vacation?"

The breeze picks up and blows a gust inside. Eddie shudders.

"Are you the dumbest motherfucker on the planet?"

Eddie didn't know how to respond to this. Not that Gareth would have given him a chance anyway.

"Do you think we wanted to go? Our dad is a Grade-A Douchebag. I'm legally required to spend two weeks with him a year. Yeah, legally - he took Mom to court when we decided we didn't want to see him anymore. Awesome parent, right? My sister doesn't even have to go, because she's 18, but she does because she doesn't want me to suffer alone. We hate his fucking guts. We hate his bitchy wife and their snot-nosed kids, we hate every second we have to spend with them. We weren't off skiing and sipping cocoa with Chad and Buffy! Do you know what she did the entire fucking time we weren't being forced into Family Fun Time and photo ops? DO YOU?"

Eddie shakes his head.

"She laid in bed and read The Lord of the Fucking Rings. I've been trying to get her to read them for years, and she always puts it off. But she knows how much you love them, and she wanted to be able to talk to you about it. She laid there and read all three. Took notes like she was gonna be fucking tested on it! FOR YOU, JACKASS."

Eddie's heart sinks into the floor.

"She doesn't give a shit about money or fancy vacations or any of that crap. All she wanted was to come home and be with you, and you fucked that up."

"Shit," Eddie breathes.

"She's been holed up in her room for two days because she thinks you left her for someone else, you idiot. I had to practically waterboard her to get her to talk."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one you need to be saying that to."

"I know," he whispers with the last of his air, feeling like a deflated balloon.

"Then go fucking do it already. She's at home. In bed. Listening to the same fucking song over and over again. If I have to hear it one more time, I swear to God, I'm going to take the tape, stomp it, and feed you the shards. FIX IT."

Gareth turns and stomps off the porch. Jeff shoots Eddie an apologetic look and gets back in the car. He stands there and watches them drive away.

Maybe Eddie Munson really is the dumbest motherfucker on the planet.

* * * * * * *

A knock on your door pulls you out of your trance. You'd woken up early today, on your last day of winter break, and decided to quit moping and do something productive. So you alphabetized everything that could be alphabetized. Your tapes and records were finally in order - you'd even rediscovered some albums you'd forgotten you owned, which was nice, because you were sick of hearing Eddie in everything. You now sat in your bedroom floor, surrounded by all the books you'd pulled off your shelf.

"What."

"Eddie's here," came the muffled voice of your brother. He'd stayed at Jeff's the night before; you hadn't even realized he was home yet.

"I don't care," you lied.

You can hear him sigh through the door.

"He brought flowers."

"I hate flowers."

You hear a thump on the door, as if Gareth has banged his head against it.

"I'm letting him in. Just listen to him. You're both making me fuckin' miserable."

You bristle, but lean over and press stop on your tape player. Might as well get this over with.

"Hey, uh… you gonna let me in?"

You glare at the closed door, hoping he can sense it.

"Okay. I'll stay out here. I, uh… Look, I don't know what I'm doing here. You know that. You're the only one I ever… I thought you were… whatever. Doesn't matter. I'm sorry."

A few days ago, you might've taken pity on him. Opened the door, fallen into his arms, shed a few tears.

But you're out of tears. You'd let that unfortunate interaction fester like an open wound. You'd spent the last few days going over every possible scenario for the sudden change in the boy you thought you loved. It hadn't occurred to you until day two that maybe he'd come outside for his little speech because there was someone else inside. Why else would he come out into that cold December morning in his pajamas to smoke half a cigarette and dump the old ball and chain?

And this is the apology you get? You wasted the last of your winter break crying over this asshole. He dumped you. And he can't even tell you why? You reach over to your tape player, press play, and turn up the volume. Immature? Maybe. Better than opening the door and ripping him to shreds, or worse, taking one look at those big brown eyes and collapsing in his arms like some weak Victorian damsel? Probably.

Eddie eventually walks out without a word, leaving the supermarket flowers on the kitchen table.

WEDNESDAY

The first day back was always an easy one; figure out where you're going, receive a pile of papers warning you of the work to come, try to plan the best route to each class. Although for you, that route would now be the most efficient; not the one that would allow you to steal a few seconds here and there with Eddie Fucking Munson.

Of course you had first period together.

You sat as far away from him as you possibly could; he was sitting in the back left corner. You took the front right. Close to the teacher's desk. You were here to learn, after all.

A pretty-boy wearing a Cubs jacket asked if the seat next to you was taken. You smiled and gestured for him to sit. Cubs Guy made small-talk about the workload, and you smiled at him like his stupid comments were amusing to you… all the while, hoping Eddie was watching. You refused to turn around and check.

You finally caught a glimpse of him after the bell rang. Some little blonde had taken the seat next to him. He was talking and gesturing to her with a big dumb smile on his face. You wanted to smack it off.

You said "excuse me" to Cubs Guy as sweetly as you could before sliding past him and practically running into the hallway to get away from them.

Your next class was uneventful… but you saw him in the hall after third period. Standing at a locker that wasn't his. With the tiny blonde who'd sat next to him that morning. Was that her? Was that the one he left alone in his bed while he took a few minutes to come ditch the old bag?

And then he looked up and caught your eye. You stood there, frozen, screaming inside… and watched that smirking motherfucker reach forward and flick one of that tiny cunt's dangly earrings. You could practically hear her giggle from the other end of the hallway. You wanted to rip her earrings out and pierce his balls with them.

Instead, you ducked into the nearest bathroom to let some angry tears fall.

* * * * * * *

He knew it was an asshole thing to do. But in his defense, you started it.

He knew the new girl would never speak to him again as soon as the first popular kid noticed her and pulled her into their own clique. They'd warn her away from trash like him - just like they tried to with you - but he suspected that this one would fall for it.

But for now, cute little Kimmy didn't know any better. Didn't know what her classmates thought of him and his Satanic hobbies, where he lived, what was in his lunchbox, how much he loved the girl who spent first period chatting animatedly with some douchebag in the front row and refusing to look at him.

So he offered his services. Told her how to get to each class. Met her at her locker with the promise of escorting her to lunch, where he was sure he'd lose her to the first jock who decided to rescue her from the clutches of the freak.

That's when he made eye contact with the one who mattered.

You were standing in the middle of the hall, completely still. The crowd parted and flowed around you like water. You were finally looking at him. It was the first time he'd looked into your eyes since the day you left for Colorado.

Before he knew what he was doing, he reached down to the bubbly little blonde in front of him and gave her dangly plastic earring a playful flick, never breaking eye contact with you. He wasn't sure exactly why. Payback for first period, maybe? Would it make you jealous? Mad enough to stomp over and yell at him? Hit him? Cram him into Kimmy's open locker? He'd take anything at this point.

But you turned on your heel and disappeared into the crowd.

Shit.

THURSDAY

"Hi!" Cubs Guy greets as he plops down on the low brick wall next to you. You can't stand eating in the cafeteria anymore. Where he is. You'd rather brave the cold and eat outside.

"Hi?"

"I'm Paul. From first and third?"

"Hi, Paul from first and third." He smiles. Why are his teeth so white?

"I thought you looked lonely, so I decided to drop in and say hi. How are you today?"

"I'm fine," you lied, faking a smile. "Thanks for checking on me." You can leave now.

"You used to hang out with Munson, right?"

"Yeah," you murmured.

"Finally realized how annoying he is, huh?"

You faked another smile and contemplated sticking your plastic fork in his eye.

"Have you started The Great Gatsby yet?" he asked.

"Just a few pages. The 20s aren't really my thing."

"Mine, either. Outlawing alcohol during the rise of jazz? That's just cruel!" He grins, and you're surprised to find a genuine laugh bubble from your throat. How long has it been since you actually laughed?

You spent the rest of your lunch period chatting about the reading list, your other classes, and what you did over winter break. It was surprisingly not terrible.

"Listen, are you seeing anyone right now?" he asked.

As if on cue, Eddie and Grant walk through the doors closest to you. You turn your head toward Paul and focus on him before you accidentally make eye contact with Eddie.

"Nope, why do you ask?"

Paul dazzles you with that brilliant smile again. "Would you like to go out with me tomorrow night? You look like you could use a night on the town."

You can see Eddie out of the corner of your eye. He's still by the door, watching. Grant shifts awkwardly. "I'd love to!" you chirp. You doubt Eddie knows what you're agreeing to, but you hope he catches the enthusiasm on your face. Even if it's fake.

"Awesome! How about dinner and a movie!"

"That sounds great!"

You glance toward Eddie, but he's gone. You see Grant retreat into the door they just came out of before it

You hate yourself.

* * * * * * *

Well, Eddie was right about one thing: Kimmy was history. The cheerleaders had swallowed her up the second she stepped into the cafeteria yesterday. Now she sat on the edge of her seat in first period, as if the guy who told her how to get to the gym and the trick to getting her locker open would snatch her up and throw her on an altar the second the teacher turned her back.

But he was used to that.

It was you ignoring him that hurt.

He thought maybe his little earring stunt would make you mad enough to threaten him. Attention is attention. But you hadn't even looked at him since. You sat next to that dickhead whose name he didn't even know - did you know it? - and quietly took notes. Were you just copying the board, or were you writing to whatshisface like you used to with Eddie? The thought nearly broke him.

But what he saw at lunch really did.

He didn't know where you were; only that you weren't sitting next to him. He ate quietly for a change, letting Jeff steer today's discussion toward some horror novel he was reading. He didn't have the energy for a rant or a lecture or even a pointed taunt. He let the conversation carry on like he wasn't even there. At least it was probably easier on Gareth this way, who reluctantly remained at the Hellfire table.

Eddie got up and headed to the van for a midday smoke. Grant followed. He wasn't sure why. Does he look so bad that they're afraid to leave him alone? They walked through the hall silently.

When he came through the doors, he saw you sitting on the brick wall with that asshole from first period. Alone. Smiling. Together. "I'd love to!" you chirped at the meathead. Eddie doesn't hear his response, but your words echo in his head. Did you just agree to a date? With someone else?

He storms back the way he came, not seeing anything but the blur of fluorescent lighting through the tears trying not to fall.

FRIDAY

Part of you felt bad about agreeing to a date just to spite Eddie.

The other part decided to put on makeup and wear some of the clothes your father and step-monster had bought for you, since Eddie would be there for band practice when Paul picked you up. ("No children of mine are going to run around here looking like ragamuffins!") Poor Gareth, being the new guy, couldn't exactly call off practice on account of relationship drama.

Your brother takes one look at you and rolls his eyes. "Really?" You shrug, and he goes out to the garage to wait for the rest of the guys.

Now the feel-bad part is in the lead.

But there's no time to change now. You look at your watch, grab your purse, and go to wait by the front door. Most people approach your house from the front for the first time, before they learn that you typically use the back door by the garage to come in and out. But while you're watching the front, Gareth yells your name through the back. "Your date just pulled up."

Fuck.

You clack through the house in your stupid heels, feeling like a kid playing dress-up. This is stupid. This is so fucking stupid.

When you get to the back door, you take a deep breath before opening it. You need to appear cool, collected, and uncaring that you're going to have to walk right past Eddie.

"Hi!" Paul greets again, just a few feet away from the door.

"Hi," you smile. Paul's a nice guy. You're going out with him because you want to. Not to hurt the person you actually care about. Like he hurt you.

"Ready?" he asks, offering his hand to help you down the lone step. You force a smile and take it, but let it go as you walk past the garage together.

"Have her back by ten, or she'll turn into a pumpkin!" Gareth yells.

"That's your little brother?" he asks quietly. You nod. "Gotcha, chief!"

You wish you were dead.

On the street, Paul opens the door of his shiny new car and waits for you to settle in before he closes it.

He jogs to the other side, slides in, and starts the engine. A pop song is playing on the radio. The car's interior is spotless. Not a single candy wrapper or empty drink cup is in the floorboard. No overflowing ashtray. No personality whatsoever. You smile at Paul and reach for the seatbelt, but your eyes linger on the open garage in the sideview mirror.

The boys are watching Eddie. Eddie is watching you.

You're vaguely aware that your date is yammering on about something as he puts his car in gear. Your eyes were locked on Eddie. Paul pulls away from the curb and eases his car down the street at a sensible pace. Eddie begins to shrink in the mirror, and you feel your heart shrinking with him.

Is this really how it ends?

No more listening to him curse as he tries to learn new songs, or playing with his hair while you watch movies, or sharing milkshakes at the diner, or writing notes in class, or browsing the discount bins for new music, or making plans to do nothing together whenever your schedules allowed. You knew you should be paying attention to the guy you were on a date with, but your only thought was Eddie. The boy who didn't want you anymore. Give it up, girl. He's moved on.

And then, you saw it.

He reached up with the hand that wasn't gripping the neck of his guitar to swipe at his eyes.

"Stop."

"What?"

"Stop the car."

"Did you forget something?" Paul asks, still moving.

"Just stop!"

He slams on the breaks and looks at you like you're crazy.

"I'm sorry. I can't do this." You grip your purse in your left hand as you fumble for the door handle with your right, unable to take your eyes off the metalhead in the mirror.

"Are you seriously ditching me for that fr--" The door slams before he can finish his sentence.

You walk back down the street and toward your open garage as quickly as your stupid heels will allow. He stands and stares until you reach the end of your driveway. Your eyes are locked on his; he's all you see.

He tries to pull off the guitar that's been hanging idly during your staring match, but the strap gets caught in his hair. Jeff helps him out of it, and holds it while Eddie walks toward you. First in a daze, and then with purpose.

When he picks up his pace, your tears begin to fall. You're sobbing by the time you're in his arms again. And so is he.

There's a flurry of choked 'I'm sorry's and 'I love you's. Your lips meet in a wet, frenzied kiss. Your hands tangle in his hair. His arms squeeze you tight. You've got your Eddie back. Nothing else matters.

When you finally pull away, you wipe your eyes on the back of your hands and look at the black smudge they left behind. You look up at Eddie bashfully.

"Bet I look gorgeous right now," you joke.

"You do," he says, tucking your hair behind your ear with a smile. "You know how much I love raccoons."

"Shut up," you laugh, giving him a gentle shove. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to him again. After a moment of holding each other tightly, you reach up to cup his face. You bring him down for another kiss, then rest your foreheads against each other.

"Don't ever leave me again," you whisper.

"I won't."

[hibischush]

please please please cuddling/spooning headcanons for the rest of the mistria romance candidates? 🥺🤲 i loved reading your other ones!!

Aww tysm! 💗 Here are the rest of them! 🌺

Eiland

quick side note, it's really funny for me to imagine him cuddling with the clothes he wears

they just look so stiff lol

anyways

I think Eiland would be another type that's not so privy to spooning when it comes to cuddling

similarly to Hayden he would prefer if his s/o laid on his chest, but he also enjoys laying on his s/o's chest

I also think he's the type to get upset when he doesn't get to cuddle you in awhile

he wouldn't say anything but he would pout until he would have to say something

Ryis

Big Spoon!

I think that Ryis would prefer spooning over any other style of cuddling

He likes holding you and keeping you warm

I also think that he likes to hold your hands while spooning you 💗

He works a lot with his hands and finds your own so different but lovely compared to his

Juniper

Little spoon

She loves being held and appreciated by her s/o

So of course she likes to be held like a precious crown jewel

I can also see her being a bit bossy in terms of settling into wherever y'all are laying

"Move your arm you're laying on my hair! I never said move that far away. Stay here"

but once you are settled in she'll be nicer to you lol

Reina

Reina is a great cuddler just in general

I imagine she would cuddle her siblings if they were ever scared

like pile up pillows and blankets during a thunderstorm and whisper stories to them so they sleep

So I think she would like being the big spoon but she isn't picky

She will be attacking you with kisses frequently either way

Valen

okay so

have you seen a vampire sleeping? limbs close to the body and hands resting on their chest?

that's how I imagine Valen sleeps 🥲

I just don't see her as much of a cuddler but she will offer an arm for you to crawl into

She does enjoy being close to you so I think that she'll eventually warm up to cuddling her s/o

Adeline

I don't even think this girl sleeps

She does not know how to RELAX!!

With her relationship with you, it takes some time for her to realize that she's allowed to dial the notch down (the girlboss notch lol)

I can see Adeline easily looking forward to cuddling with you after a long day

This girlie melts into your touch

She's definitely the little spoon

She likes feeling like the one to be looked after for once instead of catering to everyone else

Not that she doesn't enjoy her job! She really does

But she admits its nice to relax and feel like someone else is taking the reigns for awhile

God I am so excited for this game and I'm sure you all are too 💗

[kit-williams]

Barn Anon. I tried something nicer? I think? Btw I really love how you're writing and how you added Castle in the last one ^^

It's been peaceful for months now, you're starting to enjoy this. No longer is the house filled with angry hateful shouting of your parent, in fact your parents are hardly ever home these days. You hum to yourself as you continue packing your textbooks into your backpack. It's better than having them home and fighting with each other. You also have your Salamander with you. he's a new friend but ever since that day he found you lost in the alleyway, everything has improved.

He scares your parents, you can tell that, but you don't understand why. He's been good to you, why are they scared? Familiar heavy footsteps carefully make their way through your house. You look up to see the comical sight of your Salamander hunched over to peer through your room doorway. Happily you make your way over to him and take your fluffy jacket from him.

He's been the one to walk you to school lately, walking you back home and making sure your homework is done. He even goes with you when you hangout with your friends! He has tried cooking for you but that didn't end well. Still you appreciated his effort, it's more than what your parents do anyways.

As you make your way to school with your Salamander, people give the two of you a wide berth. Not that you notice, why would you when you're with your best friend?

Barn anon i dunno if this counts as nicer?

HURT/COMFORT AHEAD

They are hardly ever home anymore... you don't know when they are coming back. You look up to your best friend as the fridge is empty and you don't know where they are. He coos to you in a language you only half understand. It's the middle of the night and you've made sure to pack up. You're just going on a trip he said until things get better.

A lot of your stuff fit in the large duffle bag that is over his shoulder as you are in your fluffy jacket looking at the bare room before you put your backpack on as he lifts you up. He gives you a warm smile before he puts on that scary helmet of his, you watch the lenses start to glow red as he carries you out of the dark house. His finger occasionally rubbing your growling stomach.

You're happy Salamanders are warm... you can't help but drift off. He tucks you close to his chest plate maneuvering a blanket over you and around you to keep you warm while he walks. He didn't mean to frighten your parents away but... he didn't feel to guilty about it either. You were his charge and he was going to take care of you.

He looked on his map as he headed to the location where others of his brothers were and a promise of a meal for you and a warm place to sleep was good enough for him right now. His boots compacted the snow under them as the wind picked up and he continued on.

You wake up and rub your eyes as you find yourself on a bed in a giants room! You start to panic calling out for your Salamander whom walks in with a bowl of food for you! You scoop the food in quickly trying to remember to chew as the noodles and meat seem to fill you with a hearty broth that warms you right back up.

"Are we with other Salamanders?" You quietly ask when you get enough in your belly as you were given a Salamander sized portion.

He nods and says something you don't understand.

"Are we having a sleep over until my parents come home?" You sip the edge of the bowl trying to not make a mess. You fail to see the hurt look in his red eyes but he tells you that you'd be staying here for a little while.

But as long as you had your best friend you knew you were going to be okay.

[asher-agere]

Haii!! I hope you’ve been doing well! Sorry I keep requesting stuff, please feel free to ignore this since I’m sure you’re busy! (*´д`*) but I was wondering what you think Kunikida would be like with a really whiny little that wants to be held 24/7? I’m curious as to how he would handle it since they would probably interrupt his schedule often. (๑•́ ₃ •̀๑) thank you! :3 -⭐️

( ˶°ㅁ°) !! Never apologize for requesting things! Never ever ever! Every request brings me such immense joy! And if I truly was super busy (I’m really really not), I could save this request for another day! No pressure felt at all hehe. But I can absolutely do this request! ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

Caregiver Kunikida

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⭑.ᐟ Kunikida is a man of his schedule of course. However that doesn’t mean a baby would interrupt his schedule! It just means he needs to plan around it! He would set up scheduled times for his little one to regress, does that mean they can only regress at those times? Absolutely not! But it makes it less likely to happen randomly, keeping their mind constantly at ease. How often would depend on the regressor, but he’ll work it into his schedule no matter what!

⭑.ᐟ Kunikida will constantly have ways to check in, and he’ll plan accordingly! He’ll ask them where their headspace is, it can be explained through colors, numbers, or even temperature! Any sort of pre-decided way to let him know how they’re feeling! If they’re feeling stable in a big headspace he’ll do the work that requires his full attention, both hands that sort of thing. If they’re feeling close to slipping he’ll set up to do something simple so that he can hold them close as he works!

⭑.ᐟ Everything is ready as a grab and go! He’ll have a caregiver bag! Not quite as bulky as a big diaper bag, just something small to carry around a bottle of juice, a pacifier, a coloring book and crayons, and a small toy! The necessities. If his little one is ok with it he’d like to stay at the office until he’s done working, but if they’re shy the work can be done at home!

⭑.ᐟ Just because he’ll keep working does not mean he’s neglecting his little. He’d never dream of it! He’ll bounce them in his lap to keep them happy, he’ll hold a bottle and cradle them, whatever they need! Anytime they babble to him he’ll set down what he’s doing to give them his full attention, and if anything is seriously wrong he’ll drop his work in a heartbeat! However he likes the cozy domestic feeling of baby and work, both things he finds soothing

⭑.ᐟ With Kunikida there will definitely be a rule list! Nothing serious or scary of course, mainly just making sure they take care of themselves! And it’s perfectly ok to ask for help. He’d never punish a baby, the most severe he’d ever do is a timeout, but he’d be there to hold their hand! And if they get too worked up he’ll instantly stop it saying they’ve “had enough”. But really he prefers rewards! Much nicer than punishments

⭑.ᐟ If he has a regressor that regresses daily expect nap times! No one likes a cranky baby, so he’ll gently rock them to sleep and cradle them in his lap, feed them a bottle of warm milk, then he gets to hold them as he works! He never wants to set them down for long, always wants to cling to them like they cling to him. He also does the reward of if they nap during the day they can stay up later at night! A very incredibly tempting trade off

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I had so much fun writing this! As someone who’s comforted by having a solid schedule I think Kunikida would be the best caregiver ever honestly. Always calm and prepared for anything. Baby doesn’t need to think! Just baby! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) Thank you for the fun request ⭐️! I hope you and anyone else enjoys reading these! Maybe as much as I enjoyed writing them (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧