#it pushed me into seeing how much i could use my textured line brushes

[lemon-wedges]

and with the end of my art queue its time for my 2022 art summary

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

need a part 2 for sleeping beauty already omg ur writing is too beautiful, need to read Spencer being shy n sweet

:((( ♡

thank you honey🥺 i want spencer to whisper in my ear😔 pt1

“are you okay with sharing a popcorn?” looking to your left at spencer while the two of you stood in the concessions line.

the old styled theater was heavily packed with different ages of people. from young children with parents, to couples holding onto each other, and elderly adults sitting down before heading into the show room. you could see why spencer would enjoy coming to this place, he could meet people of similar interest.

spencer held on tightly to the strap of his satchel, “i don’t really eat popcorn much. also did you know that popcorn has been around for about nine thousand years, evidence found by archaeologists in peru.” he looked away from you then squeezed his eyes shut, “uh, but i’ll be okay with- with sharing if i want a few pieces.”

your lips shaped into a smile, “we can ask for a water cup and pour some in for yourself before i start eating.” two steps forward in line, “what size drink? and beverage?” eyes squinting a bit to read over the options.

“your not paying, right?” a stern tone from spencer that it gives you whiplash for a moment. his brows are harshly pinched in the middle, a finger twitched at the urge to smooth out the wrinkle.

you shrugged, “you bought the tickets, thought i could buy the food. probably gonna be equal pricing in total.” used to splitting or paying in full for past dates.

spencer pushed his bag behind him, your wallet was tucked away in the brown leather. “no, this is a date,” insisting, “i’m paying for everything. i want to treat you.” softening his voice as he stared at you, his eyes rounding out into that doe shape.

you bit into your bottom lip, saving your cheeks from their future ache of how strong your smile widened. “okay,” embracing spencer’s gentlemanly deed. you looked back to the line, only three more people ahead.

you let your arms rest at your sides, fingers constantly moving, wanting to do something bold but unsure if it’s too soon. there was a ghost of knuckles that tingled your skin and then, one slender finger wrapped itself around your pointer finger. your heart skipped a beat at the contact, but you acted like this was an everyday occurrence, the intimacy felt normal.

“do you want any candy?” spencer resumed your food chat. you hummed for a moment, “if i get a kitkat and reeces pieces, will you share with me?” giving your joined digits a slight swing.

“the kitkat. not a big fan of the reeces texture.” once at the counter spencer recited your order easily, not bothering with a spare water cup. you carried your soda while spencer held the small popcorn, his water and the candy placed into his bag.

“are you okay with the back? don’t want to distract people with all my moving.” standing at the foot of the steps, only two third of the seats filled during the commercials.

you dragged spencer behind you as you guided the both of you to the last row, a pair of seats close to the middle. “are you okay with translating the whole thing? if it’s like the original then i’ll be fine.” hoping spencer still agrees, but the movie is an hour and a half long.

spencer was distracted with his bag when he replied, “i’ve already seen this movie. i don’t mind talking you through it.”

your face warmed instantly at the innuendo. “just- just take a break whenever. i can use context clues.” crossing a leg over a knee so you can lean closer into spencer’s side. “thank you, for this date,” whispered between the two of you.

spencer turned his head quickly that your noses brushed, his lip parting and you let your eyes drop to the plush pink calling to you. you let your head move in just an inch closer, waiting to see if spencer will lean away or go forward. just before there was a definite decision the lights dimmed and an usher walked in front of the screen.

you settled your back against the cushioned chair but stayed leaning, elbow resting on the arm rest. “enjoy the show,” the usher finished with before leaving and just a moment after the projector lights shined above your heads.

sleeping beauty appeared in swooping cursive titling then faded into the opening scene of a giant fairytale book. you barely moved your head when you felt spencer’s breath ghosting over your ear, needing to suppress a sudden shiver.

“once upon a time…”

[lookatmeallthetime]

Hey, wanna make some mountains? In honor of the launch of the music video I just finished, here’s a tutorial on how to build out 2D layers in 3D space in after effects.

Getting Started

First of all, build your vector layers. You can build them as shape layers directly in After Effects, but I prefer Illustrator. Here’s the file where I organized the vectors for each scene:

I highly recommend using Overlord for moving shape layers back and forth between illustrator and AE. It can preserve layer positions relative to each other or center vector shapes in comps, group and ungroup layers, all kinds of nice things. But also, Adobe software costs enough as is. Look up one of the many tutorials about pasting vectors into shape layers and get your vectors in there!

Wigglin

I wanted my vector layers to squirm a little. Originally it was to mimic the effect of paper cut animation, but once I moved away from that look it was to keep the background feeling alive and, sigh, like its own character. Everything except for very curvy layers (like the bridge in the first scene) has Wiggle Paths > Corners applied to it as a Shape Layer effect. This tutorial by Ben Marriott helped me get the wiggle paths + posterize time cutout effect I was looking for.

In order to keep the amount of wigglin’ consistent from scene to scene, I stored all my layer styles in their own precomp with a slider effect attached, applied Wiggle Paths to each vector, then connected the layer properties with the pickwhip. I ended up with an expression like

this = comp(“Wiggle control comp”).layer(“Wiggle parent”).effect(“Detail Slider”);

Apply it to the Detail attribute of your Wiggle Paths shape effect, and you can adjust the intensity of the look across multiple comps!

Parallax

I’m guessing you’re here for the parallax effect and notes on laying out out vector shapes and textures in 3D space. This tutorial from Camp Keyframe lays it out better than I could, but here’s the short version:

1. Set all your layers to 3D

2. Set your workspace to 2 views and select top view so you can see how your elements are positioned on the z-index

3. Make a null, set it to 3D, and make a camera.

4. Parent null to camera and adjust the position so its z-index matches the z of the camera.

5. Parent null to camera and use null for camera controls hereafter.

6. Parent all unparented layers to null, adjust the null’s scale property, and unparent your layers once they’re where you want them. What we’re doing here is scaling layers as we push them back in the frame, preserving the layout of our original vector comps while arranging them in 3D space. (Even shorter version - mountains are big but far away, rocks are small but close up.)

7. Once your layers are all unparented, move your null around to text the parallax view. Now you can move your camera to pan left and your layers will respond.

Two side notes:

1. If you want an element to follow the motion of the camera, leave it parented to the null and it will stay where you put it in the frame as the background moves.

2. You see that little pixelated line in your switches? That pre-rasterizes your layers. This makes render times way faster because it’s inserting your precomp as a 2D plane, but if you want to blend scenes, turn it off to use your precomps in 3D space.

One more thing!

Even if two elements on screen aren’t touching, you’ll still get nasty collision renders if they’re on the same z-index. Select everything and press P to show your element’s position, and make sure the z is different for each of them.

Final step: textures!

Let me start by saying I did this step incorrectly on this project. If I could do it again, I’d export my shape layers to Procreate, use them as clipping masks, and scribble on them real nice and export them as transparent 2x pngs.

What I did instead was try to get spray and scribble and brush textures in Illustrator. Illustrator does not want to do this, it doesn’t like doing this, and it didn’t like me much by the end of the process. The one benefit was it was easy to name them the same as their corresponding shape layer, which made compositing easier.

Once you’ve imported them as layers, not a png series), it’s just a matter of copying and pasting the scale data (you can copy all dimensions at once if you select the attribute name rather than any one value) and position data. Make sure to set your texture layers to 3D and watch for z-index collisions!

Closing thoughts

I wrote this up in order to be useful to the community and find other folks who are at or near where I am as I learn After Effects. If this was useful to you or there’s something you think would be interesting, please comment or share your work!

[zoewilkinson]

FMP Practical Work

16/06/2024

Over the last few days I have changed the head quite a few times to get the right look. As Wayne suggested, I wanted to make sure I really had this down early in the sculpting process so I could focus on the less important focal areas like the torso. I don’t think I planned on resculpting the head as many times as I did, but I’m happy with the outcome so far.

First resculpt.

On my first resculpt, I focused on bringing the lower jaw down and narrowing it to make it look less soft. I also carved in the details on the side of the head, and tried to cut in the jaw connection between the two pieces. I then made different sizes for the teeth to make them fit the face better, although looking back now I think they still need to be bigger so I will be keeping this in mind for later.

After this I decided to add some texture to the head. I did this by using a brush pack that Melissa sent to me on Artstation, which has 30 different skin textures to create a varied look.

Brushes ( Arca IRTEM, n.d.)

Texture from the brushes.

I really liked how this texture came out, giving it a much more realistic skin-like feel. I want to extend this texture over the entire body, even on the pieces that appear to be a harder shell, because I think that it’ll feel much more cohesive and help push the genetic experimentation idea further, by having some human skin features alongside the alien features.

After this however, I realised that I had missed a very important detail: lips! The model didn’t have any lips, which made it feel really lifeless and looked weird overall. So I went back in with my sculpting tools to put these in.

Updated head shape.

Adding in the lips brought the details in the head together a lot more, and I was able to see other places I needed to edit slightly. For the carved in line at the side of the head, I went in and carved it slightly deeper, as well as bring it up higher so it followed the natural movement of the mouth.

For now I’ll be moving onto the rest of the body and finishing up on editing my initial block out pieces because I got a bit ahead of myself, so I think I’ll be focusing on the hands and feet next.

Bibliography

Arca IRTEM, n.d. FREE High Resolution Skin Brushes 30 For Blender. [Online] Available at: https://www.artstation.com/marketplace/p/2K9Na/free-high-resolution-skin-brushes-30-for-blender [Accessed 14 June 2024].

[cerebrumrott]

Obey Me! Shall we Date?

Brothers x MC

Synopsis: Demon Form Head Canons

Lucifer

Is not shy about sharing his demon form in the slightest.

More than happy to show off his wings for you and every compliment and awed look you give him just strokes his pride.

He gets taller in his demon form, not by more than a few inches but its enough to have you craning your neck to look him in the eyes.

His horns are not nearly as sensitive as some of his brothers but he still quite enjoys when you pet them.

Specifically likes it when the base of his horns are scratched, he could just melt into your hands.

His wings are prone to molting when he is stressed and seeing as he is stressed almost all the time. It's fairly common to find black feathers around the house.

When Lucifer later finds out that you had been collecting his discarded feathers in a small vase in your room he can’t help the blush on his cheeks having forgotten the entire reason he went into your room in the first place.

Seeing as you are so entranced by his feathers you might as well help him preen when he is molting.

It is totally cause he wants you to just have a nice collection, not because its a massive boost to his ego to have you doting over him.

Straighten his tie and flatten out his collar. Even if it doesn't need it. These little gestures will leave him flustered and blushing.

Mammon

His horns, due to their peculiar shape, are extremely sensitive. To the point where just blowing on them sends a tremble racing down his spine.

Pressing a finger between the grooves or into the center of the horn's spiral will have him practically howling from the sensation or more accurately leave him a stuttering and flustered mess.

Despite being essentially shirtless in his demon form. Mammon is like a walking heater. Just standing next to him for too long can cause you to break into a sweat.

If you were to ever trace the white lines that cover his torso he would just stop functioning entirely.

He would of course vehemently deny any such claims stating that, he was simply… thinking… about things… shut up.

Mammon is also extremely ticklish and with so much exposed skin from his questionable choice in a shirt. Do with that what you will ;)

His wings are restless, always flickering, fluttering or some variation of the two.

The only time they had ever truly stilled was when Mammon had agreed to let you touch them for the first time. In that moment as you ever so carefully ran your hands over the thin membrane of the wings, they didn't so much as twitch under the touch.

While his wings aren't necessarily sensitive to touch they are slightly delicate, being as they are made from a thin leathery membrane.

Leviathan

He also gets taller in his demon form by a few inches. Though due to his terrible posture you are likely to not notice.

He regularly sheds his antlers each year and grows back new ones.

He used to be extremely self conscious while his antlers regrew due to teasing from his brothers but after hearing how much you liked them they were now a point of pride for him.

I can also totally see an MC who collects his shed antlers like, it's 2 am and Levi texts them like ""Hey normie you want my old antlers I know you asked about them before so...""

Leviathan would get such an ego boost from it though. His face growing reed each time he walks into your room to see his old antlers nestled about the shelves like decor.

His tail also sheds its skin every so often (like a reptile would) another reason as to why he is always showering or taking a bath.

On that same thought, Levi has to take daily soaks in either the shower or tub to keep his skin from drying out or getting irritated. Being in the sun for too long can also irritate his skin.

Uses this as an excuse to not go outside despite there being no sun in the Devildom.

Both his horns and his tail are rather sensitive to touch. Though he loves the idea of you petting them his self consciousness prevents him from ever initiating such a thing.

The markings on the side of his neck are also highly sensitive. Running a hand or dragging your nails over them sends shivers down his spine every time.

Satan

Not only does he get taller but he also physically bulks up in his demon form. Its hardly noticeable under the sweater and boa he wears but on close inspection you can see the defined lines of his muscles straining under the fabric.

Similar to Lucifer, his horns are not all that sensitive. Though the area where they connect to his head are very mush so.

Satan is not shy in the slightest about asking MC to pet his head when he is in a bad mood and needs someone to stop him from doing something potentially stupid.

Satan often subconsciously purrs when he is happy or content.

This habit may have stemmed from his obsession with cats

His tail for the most part is hard and senseless, though the green end is softer and more pliable like cartilage. It is also extremely sensitive to both touch and temperature.

This is why he keeps his tail wrapped around his leg to protect it from being accidentally trampled on or whacked.

Since his tail extends from his lower back rather than the base of his spine the exposed skin surrounding the base of his tail is extremely sensitive and ticklish.

Asmodeus

Asmo of course loves any kind of affection, especially if it is coming from you of all people.

The tips of his horns that are pink in hue are extremely sensitive to touch. He is not shy about asking you to touch him obviously but you would note that he does get extremely flustered when you do so without having to be asked.

Asmo will just melt into your touch if you walk up to him and just randomly cup his face or pet his horns.

When he is especially flustered the pink hue of his horns will even darken

His wings are velvety and soft to the touch. He loves to have kisses pressed to the soft membrane of the wings.

The easiest way to turn him to putty in your hands is to go straight for his wings. They are his weak spot.

It's really little affectionate things that get him going. Adjusting the metal chain of his scorpion brooch, pushing a stray piece of his bangs back into place, even something as simple as picking a piece of lint off of his jacket has him beaming with affection.

I don't see Asmo as getting to experience these little things as often as the more prominent things that come with his sin. So when you go out of your way to make sure he does get to experience these little things he falls hard and fast.

Beelzebub

He physically bulks up when he transforms. If you thought he was shredded normally wait till you see him in demon form.

His horns are extremely sensitive, almost like little antennas. Turns into the biggest puppy when you rubs his horns. Just all smiles and happiness from him.

Sometimes he will even rub your cheeks together so his horns brush against your hair.

He is a bit hesitant when it comes to his wings being touched just because of their nature. It's not that he doesn't trust you it’s just when he gets excited he unconsciously buzzes his wings.

If he were to catch his wing on your hand and rip it he would feel bad for making you think you hurt him. In reality it does not hurt him all that much, akin to like a paper cut or bad scratch.

Beel is really just a big push over for you, scratch him behind the horns and he will just become the biggest lap dog.

Belphegor

His horns and tail are not sensitive but that doesn't mean he doesn't want you to pet him.

After he falls asleep to you petting his horns one afternoon he now demands that you do this at least once a week. If you don't he will bother you until you cave to his wishes.

Also loves to have the fluff of his tail brushed / petted, although he would never admit it outright. His brothers already think he is spoiled so how would they react to knowing he has you pampering him each week? Braiding his tail hair and brushing out the tangles while he snoozes.

On the rare occasions he can’t sleep or when he is awakened from a nightmare he will seek you out and ask you to pet him so he can get to sleep. There are many mornings you will wake up and just find Belphie in bed next to you curled around his pillow with his face buried in your shoulder.

He promises to pay you back later though. Totally...

The cow spots on his neck are extremely ticklish, to the point he borderline passes out from wheezing so hard when Beel tickles him there.

Bonus:

Diavolo

He is much, much larger in his demon form than he is when he appears as human. He is normally tall but like this he is borderline massive.

He tends to keep his wings folded into his sides due to their large span. Though is more than happy to show them off to you when prompted.

They are thick and velvety to the touch, the metallic jewelry that covers the tops of them a cold contrast to the warm skin.

He adores any kind of attention from you, more than content to sit and chatter about whatever comes to his mind as you sit beside him or stop him petting his wings.

He bent down once so you could see his horns and as a joke lifted you off the ground while you were holding onto them. He laughed so hard you thought he was going to drop you on your ass.

His horns are not sensitive in the slightest, hence why he has no problems with decorating them with tight metal pieces akin to a piercing on a person.

Diavolo is a super loving guy normally and this holds true to when he is in his demon form. So whenever he gives you a hug you end up smothered in his pecs. Not that your complaining.

Barbatos

Barbatos would never say it aloud but he very much enjoys when you spend time just running your fingers ever so softly over his horns. Their unique shape and varied textures can leave you entertained for what feels like hours but in reality you love the soft expressions you can pull out of the normally stoic butler.

Loves having soft kisses pressed to the joints of his horns.

His tail is his one weak spot as once one learns what certain movements mean. You can always tell how he is feeling.

The unbridled joy you feel well in your heart when his tail begins to curl up upon seeing you letting you know he is feeling the same way has you biting your lip to hold yourself back from running into his arms.

[realcube]

characters dealing with a deep sleeper! s/o  (_　_)。゜zｚＺ

characters: bokuto, oikawa & saiki k 

tw// swearing, fluff, mentions of death, illness, funerals, sexual references 

Kōtarō Bokuto

he literally thought you died 

this was your first time sleeping over at his home and last night, y’all were stuffing your faces with treats until your stomachs ached

you had mentioned several times how you were feeling sick - even after bokuto took you out for a late-night run - but he just told you to take a pain-killer and sleep it off

but now he was kinda regretting not calling someone to help 

like what if the sickness was a symptom to a deadly disease which took you overnight?

plus, he had tried everything he could think of to wake you up: he shook you, he blasted music from his phone, he opened the curtains to allow blinding light to shine on you, he flicked spits of cold water onto your face and he literally wafted cookies around the room in hopes you’d catch the scent 

but it was no use as even after all that, you didn’t move an inch

he tried to check your pulse which he believed to be on the wrist but he couldn’t think it 

so either he was too stupid to find the exact location or......you didn’t have a pulse

he’ll admit, it was an eerie thought that there could be a dead person in his bed rn but even he considered that a rather outlandish idea 

how could a person as healthy as you just die overnight? so he did what any reasonable person would do in that situation-- no, not call a doctor

he held a funeral for his beloved s/o 💀

he gathered all five of the plushies laying around his room (all of which were owls) and lined them up on the foot of the bed 

‘we are all gathered here today to celebrate the epic life of my partner, (y/n) (l/n).’ he sobbed into the sleeve of the black blazer he had pulled out of his closet, ‘gone too soon.’

silence. but in his mind he was met by a chorus of ‘aww’s and whimpers from the crowd

‘i loved them. (y/n) was my rock; they helped me through some of the hardest points in my life--’

his speech was cut off upon hearing one of the audience members pipe up, ‘bo, what are you doing?’

a wave of excitement washed over him as he scurried up to the line of guests, closely examining each one, ‘i didn’t know y’all could talk!’

you rolled your eyes before leaning forward and gently tapping the back of his head, ‘it’s me.’

upon laying his eyes on you, healthy and alive, his lips curled into a foolishly large grin as he immediately pulled you into a tight hug, ‘(Y/N), you’re alive!’ he cried

you gasped at his rather dramatic reaction before slowly melting into his embrace, ‘yes, i am.’

as your lips parted from the skin of his jaw and he slowly let his arms fall from your waist, you finally inquired, ‘did you hold a funeral for me?’

bokuto’s eyes-widened at your ‘crazy’ suggestion, ‘uhhhh, nooooo.’

if his elongating of each word wasn’t enough to show that he was lying, the dead giveaway would have to be the sheet of A4 paper with ‘(Y/N)’S FUNERAL 😭’ written on it that was stuck to the door with blu-tac

ignoring his completely false reply, you leaned back on the bed and picked up on the owl plushies, gently stroking it’s soft fur, ‘are these the guests? why are there only five?’

bokuto shrugged, picking up one himself and absentmindedly attempting to balance it on your head, ‘seven; if you count me and you.’

you giggled, about to make a inquire about the names of each guest until bokuto suddenly through his arms around you again 

‘why didn’t you tell me that you are such a deep-sleeper before?! i was so worried - i thought you died! please never die on me again, (y/n)?’

you smiled, pulling back to plant a sweet kiss on his cheek, ‘i promise.’

Tōru Oikawa

he would take advantage of this opportunity lol

the first time y’all slept over together as a couple, he had no idea that you were as deep of a sleeper as you actually are

like he thought you meant ‘i sometimes sleep through my alarms’ deep-sleeper

NOT ‘IT TAKES A WHOLE NATURAL DISASTER TO WAKE ME UP IN THE MORNING’ DEEP-SLEEPER (/h)

anyway, at first, he’d probably just freshen up while you sleep: take a shower, wash his face, brush his teeth, floss etc so he’s no longer effected by that ✨morning crust ✨

but when he pokes his head out of the bathroom and noticed that your sleep asleep, he tries to blow-dry his hair bc he knows how much you like it when it’s all fluffy

but his blow-dryer was quite loud so he put it on for a few seconds to see if it’s wake you up and just as he expected, you were still sound asleep

so he blew-dry his hair until it was that soft texture that you liked so much- all while you were still like (∪.∪ )...zzz even though the blow-dryer was making a racket 

you were still sleeping and upon looking at the time, he realised that it was completely fair considering it was currently half past 8 and he had just woken up extremely early for some unknown reason

he didn’t want to wake you so he was just doing to go out for a run or make breakfast until he caught a glimpse of himself in mirror

o.O

despite his  puffy hair and pearly-white smile, he still looked sloppy

but it was definitely bc of his stained, torn, washed-out pyjamas tbh

he was just wearing an old T-shirt that he’s had for god-knows how long and a pair of grey sweatpants; it wasn’t a look

he had no idea what possessed him to wear such casual nightwear while you were at his house - especially when you chose to wear something so relaxed yet titillating - but he knew that he needed to change

after a while of rummaging through his nightwear drawer, the best he could find was a pair of white, silk, loose-legged trousers which he had bought for a halloween costume many years ago

it was pretty classy though :)) he was sure that you’d like it 

however, he still couldn’t find anything to wear on his top half but there is no fashion problem oikawa can’t solve 

thus, he went shirtless ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

he also threw on some jewellery too, just for the lols

you weren’t awake yet thought, so after he set up some candles to create a ‘mood’, he just sat next to you on the bed, scrolling on his phone and anticipating your reaction once you woke up

for a moment, he thought that he might’ve went when too far but upon taking a look at himself in his front-facing camera, he realised that there was no harm in spicing things up

once he noticed one of your eyes slowly flutter open, he quickly tossed his phone to the side and turned his body to face you, shooting you a kind smile and he gently ran a hand through his fluffy hair, ‘morning, angel~’ he cooed

you grumbled your greeting in response, then proceeded to rub your eyes to make sure you were seeing him correctly, ‘what are you wearing, tōru?’

‘can a guy not dress up for his special someone anymore?’

you rolled your eyes, playfully slapping his chest and going to hop out of bed until he pulled you back down against the sheets

a faint gasp escaped your lips but you were quickly hushed by oikawa pushing his finger against your lips, ‘you’re not going anywhere, (y/n).’

Kusuo Saiki

this was the first time you ever slept over at his house or next to him yet y’all had been dating for year and a half

he was just scared that he might accidently do something crazy in his sleep (bc of his powers ofc) and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you 🥺

you were patient with him though but bc y’all had never woken up together before, he had no idea how deep of a sleeper you are

he thought it was cute at first bc you were laying there like the beauty you are, lookin’ all serene and calm and stuff

but after a while, he got bored on his own  #•̀ ︿ •́

also, you promised to bake macarons with him for breakfast and he was hungry as hell, still he didn’t want to eat without you but if he didn’t wake you up rn to make macarons, he’d surely starve to death while they were in the fridge

on any other day, he’d just try do it himself but when you helped him make food- it just hit different 😍

‘(y/n), wake up.’  he spoke into your mind using his telepathy, while light nudging your arm, ‘i’m hungry.’

you didn’t reply, seeming completely knocked out

he tried the next best thing, holding his annoying alarm noise near (but not too close) to your ear

still nothing, though

his last human attempt was aggressively pulling your blanket away but even after that you showed no signs of waking up so he realised that he’d have to resort to using his physic abilities

he considered using his astral projection to possess your body but he felt as though taking over your body might cross a few boundaries 

but he did try duplicating himself so he could shake you from many different angles but it was still no use

he continued to use his telepathy to try wake you up but it didn’t seem to work either

after multiple different attempts of using his powers to try wake you up; here he was, standing in the middle of some dystopian, apocalyptic scene - alarms ringing in the distant along with sirens, screaming, honking and wails. everything around him seemed to be engulfed by flames which created thick, smoky air 

he wasn’t really sure how he got here but he was pretty sure it started around the time he tried to form an energy ball 

whatever 🤷‍♂️ it’s no biggie

he jumped back in time so he was standing next to your bed once again, exactly where he left off before he created the energy ball

he stared down at your sleeping figure and let out an exasperated sigh as he realised that he’d have to employ one of his most dangerous tactics

he really hoped it didn’t have to come to this

‘(y/n), if you get up right now.’ his voice rung through your head, ‘i speak with my voice.’

just like that, both of your eyes shot open as you hastily sat up on the bed

‘do it, saiki!’ you cheered, a foolishly large grin plastered on your features

and he couldn’t help but smile too 

curse you for being so cute

[riddlecrux]

Why rejection leads to the endgame: Rowaelin and Elriel comparison.

This meta is based solely on textual pieces of evidence that can be found through the whole ACTOAR and TOG series written by SJM. My observations come from the text and what was given to us, the audience, by the author of the book. This post is going to be about two very prominent scenes that occur to the main characters and how they are played in the books, setting-wise but also plot-wise. Of course, a small warning: this is strictly pro-Elriel meta, so if it isn't your cup of tea you are in the wrong place. Also: SPOILERS FOR TOG!

I would like to start this meta with a short preface about how I am going to approach the subject. The things I will be looking into are setting, wording, and emotional attachments. (With a sprinkle of speculations).

We will begin with Rowaelin and how the rejection scene developed. The plotline setting is after a very tense situation, which was confronting Arobynn.

Queen of Shadows, pg. 321

Rowan was done waiting. (...) The lamplight glinted off the combs in her hair and along the golden dragon on the dress.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it glides across combs of Aelin hair - "glinted"

Also worth mentioning is how Rowan finally overcame his inner battle. He became impatient.

Azriel POV, pg. 1

Azriel couldn't stop it. (...) he found himself leaving the room. Entering the foyer. (...) and there she was. The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn.

Emphasis on: - hair - light, and how it lightens Elain hair - "gilded"

Again, we have a male who is questioning his inner feelings and after an imminent mind battle, he decides to move and goes towards a place when he meets up with a female.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 321-322

She half turned toward him. (...) The look in her eyes—guilt, anger, agony—hit him like a blow to the gut.

(...) and though she tried to hide it, he could see the fear in her gaze, and the guilt.

Rowan can read Aelin without words. Just one look and he knows exactly what she feels or what hides behind her words - which often are laced with lies. Yet, he, Rowan was able to always see beneath the false facade - even before they were told about them being true mates.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn't need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face.

Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

Azriel, just as Rowan can easily deduct lies underneath Elain's words. Him being a shadowsinger and spymaster could help him in knowing the truth, yet we have an emphasis on the fact that he didn't need his powers to realize and catch Elain's lie based on her tone and facial expressions.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He watched her throat bob as she swallowed.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

He watched her swallow.

The same imagery, similar wording. Both males are focused on the females' emotions and their nervousness/trepidation.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

She rested her head against his chest, the tips of the bat-wing combs digging into him enough that he eased them one at a time from her hair. The gold was slick and cold in his hands (...)

Emphasis on: - Aelin initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Aelin's hair

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

"Put it on me?" His head went quiet. But he took the necklace, opening the clasp as she exposed her back, sweeping her hair up in one hand to bare her long, creamy neck.

The golden necklace seemed ordinary -- its chain unremarkable.

Emphasis on: - Elain initiating physical contact - piece of jewelry - golden color - Elain's hair

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She huffed a laugh that might have been a sob and wrapped her arms around his waist as if trying to steal his warmth.

He flattened his hand against her waist, his fingers contracting once as if debating letting her go.

We have Aelin seeking Rowan's touch, she is the one who pushes on the physical line between them. It's important to note that it's her constantly assessing Rowan, trying to close the distance between them. She's acting on her feelings and a need for closure.

Emphasis on the wording used by SJM: - "flattened his hand (...)"

Azriel POV pg. 3

Elain shivered, and he took a damn long time fastening the clasp.

Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

Emphasis on: - "until his palm lay flat (...)"

In this setting, we have Elain who, once again, closes on the distance between her and Azriel. Just like Aelin she chooses to move along her feelings - which are obstructed from the reader's point of view due to the text being singular POV. It is her who slowly builds up the courage and makes Azriel touch her. Settle on her skin.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

She waited for him to pull back, but he just stared at her—stared into her in that way he always did. Friends, but more. So much more, and she’d known it longer than she wanted to admit.

Carefully, she stroked her thumb across his cheekbone, his face slick with the rain.

Aelin realizes her feelings. She comes with the terms of their friendship and its possible development - both she and Rowan started out on the wrong foot, yet they formed an amazing friendship. They built their relation slowly, surely with many heartful moments that bordered on the line of friendship and something more.

Emphasis on: - Aelin "stroking" Rowan's face

Azriel POV pg. 3

It had never gone this far. They'd exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.

Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine.

Letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture.

As in the Rowaelin case, Elain and Azriel also built their relationship from a friendship. It was formed during the very dark period of time on Elain's behalf - just like it was for Aelin's. Both Azriel and Elain found comfort with each other, they both started to enjoy the company of the other - sitting in comfortable silence. Yet, we have an idea that this friendship slowly started to bloom into something riskier, more emotional. Both, Azriel and Elain already had their first love ripped away, never fulfilled, and ending in a painful manner. And for the first time when we are inside Azriel POV, it confirms that they balanced on this thin line for a while.

Emphasis on: - Azriel "brushing" Elain's throat and nape

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 323

It hit her like a stone—the wanting. She was a fool to have dodged it, denied it, even when a part of her had screamed it every morning that she’d blindly reached for the empty half of the bed.

Emphasis on: - realization of desire - mornings in the bed - desperate search for Rowan in the sheets

Azriel POV, pg. 2-3

Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent. He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night.

(...) a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there.

Emphasis on: - desire - night and bed - looking at the gift from Elain on his nightstand

Both scenes and paragraphs signalize that both Aelin and Azriel fought with their newfound feelings. They were realizing that the friendship was slowly turning into something more - a feeling of desire to not only be close to the other person but also a desire to close the distance between friends and lovers.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

She lifted her other hand to his face and his eyes locked onto hers, his breathing ragged as she traced the lines of the tattoo along his temple.

His hands tightened slightly on her waist, his thumbs grazing the bottom of her ribcage. It was an effort not to arch into his touch.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

(...) his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

But Azriel just stroked her neck again. Elain shuddered, drifting closer.

Emphasis on: - constant engaging in physical contact - touching vulnerable parts of the other person - answering to the touch

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

“Rowan,” she breathed, his name a plea and a prayer. She slid her fingers down the side of his tattooed cheek, and—

Azriel POV pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Emphasis on: - how the last word before the almost kiss is breathed - "religious" themes such as comparison to Rowan's name to the prayer - Mother (a "religious" figure) being present during this intimate scene between Elain and Azriel

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

Faster than she could see, he grabbed one wrist and then the other, yanking them away from his face and snarling softly. The world yawned open around her, cold and still.

He dropped her hands as if they were on fire, stepping away, those green eyes flat and dull in a way she hadn’t seen for some time now. Her throat closed up even before he said, “Don’t do that. Don’t—touch me like that.”

Rowan rejected Aelin in a brusque manner - and it wasn't necessarily because he didn't want to engage in expanding their relationship past the friendship. Rowan at this moment still lacks self-reassurance about how he should feel after Lyria. He is scared. It is something different than the feelings that restrained him from the kiss.

Azriel POV, pg. 4

Rhys's voice thundered through him, halting him mere inches from Elain's sweet mouth.

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

We have Azriel who rejects the kiss because of Rhysand. It was not on his own terms. It was an order of his High Lord that involuntarily stopped him from kissing Elain.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

There was a roaring in her ears, a burning in her face, and she swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mean—” She backed away a step, toward the door on the other side of the roof. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “It was nothing.”

Azriel POV pg. 4

She opened her eyes, hurt and confusion warring there before she whispered, "I’m sorry."

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

In both scenes, it's the female that apologizes. The one who initiated physical contact. Aelin apologizes twice, meanwhile, Elain is rendered speechless and hurt - and it's Azriel who assures her that it is she doesn't need to apologize. However, Elain is left alone without an explanation and Azriel can't stand seeing her like that.

Both scenes are built in a similar manner - we have friendships border lining on a thin line of something more. Both Elain and Aelin are the ones who initiate physical contact and are the ones who are "rejected", left hurt, and confused. Rowan and Azriel are battling their self-hatred and feeling of unworthiness that is very sound in both of their POVS. There is a lot of things that contribute to the rejection - especially their feelings. Rowan and Azriel feel the romantic pull towards their loved ones - they know that desire and their feelings are reciprocated. Yet, their inner struggles are in the way of fully accepting the fact that the female they yearn for is able to accept them.

More parallels:

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 322

He’d almost fallen to his knees when he’d first seen her earlier tonight.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Both males are on the verge of falling to their knees in front of Aelin/Elain. They are ready to submit to their loved ones.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 324

(...) understood that though she’d seen his eyes shine with hunger—hunger for her—it didn’t mean he wanted to act on it. Didn’t mean he might not hate himself for it.

In this chapter in Queen Of Shadows, we are presented with dual POV, both from Rowan and Aelin so it's easier to see what Aelin had felt when she was rejected. She tells the audience that she was aware of the fact that Rowan exhibited a desire for her. Furthermore, we have another instance of Aelin being able to understand Rowan without words. She knows that Rowan feeling lust for her might have resulted in him hating himself for that because of what had happened with Lyria.

Azriel POV, pg. 2

Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

We are obstructed from Elain's point of view and her understanding is explained by Azriel. He knows that Elain understands him. It's an important thing to remember since their friendship was built on the comfortable silence in which both of them bask. Elain and Azriel, just like Aelin and Rowan understand each other without words.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 337

He hated it. Hated that he couldn’t reach her when she was that person. Hated that he’d snapped at her last night, had panicked at the touch of her hands. Now she’d shut him out entirely. This person she’d become today had no kindness, no joy.

Azriel POV, pg. 2-4

(...) Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

He shook his head, unable to stand the bleakness he'd brought to her expression.

Both Rowan and Azriel don't want to hurt their significant other. They battle their inner demons, their inner self-worth problems while trying not to put the weight of it on Aelin and Elain. Rowan has his mind troubled because he, at this moment in the books, is still burdened with what had happened to his "mate". On the other hand, we have Azriel who can't bring himself to be in the same room as Elain and Lucien due to their bond. A mate that Elain doesn't want. Azriel's reaction to the mating bond is also very strange - he can see it and scent it. Which I believe should be very telling if we're taking true mate/second mate theories into consideration. So, overall the problem of both males stems from the notion of "mate".

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 345

Even now, he honestly couldn’t decide if he was amused or enraged by Rowan’s words—Don’t touch me like that—when it was obvious the warrior-prince felt quite the opposite.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He needed to know what the skin of her neck tasted like. What those perfect lips tasted like. Her breasts. Her sex. He needed her coming on his tongue --

Rowan and Azriel want to indulge in their desire for Aelin and Elain. Both of them weren't able to do so because of the "rejection", yet we are presented with the fact that even the rejection doesn't mean anything as long as both males feel completely opposite to what they had told during the refusal scenes.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

Her scent hit him as she unbound her hair and nestled into the pile of pillows. That scent had always struck him, had always been a call and a challenge. It had shaken him so thoroughly from centuries encased in ice that he’d hated her at first. And now … now that scent drove him out of his mind.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent. He'd beg on his knees for a chance to taste it.

Emphasis on: - the scent - how it affects the male

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

They were both really damn lucky that she currently couldn’t shift into her Fae form and smell what was pounding through his blood. It had been hard enough to conceal it from her until now.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Azriel's cock strained behind his pants, aching so fiercely he could hardly think. He prayed she didn't peer down. Prayed she didn't understand the shift in his scent.

Both males explain to the audience that their desire and lust were and are something they are battling as well. Rowan and Azriel are anxious because of their own problems with self-worth that they are struggling to keep as a secret.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

He’d seen her naked before—a few times. And gods, yes, there had been moments when he’d considered it, but he’d mastered himself. He’d learned to keep those useless thoughts on a short, short leash. Like that time she’d moaned at the breeze he sent her way on Beltane—the arch of her neck, the parting of that mouth of hers, the sound that came out of her—

Azriel POV, pg. 3

He had only allowed himself these thoughts in the dead of night. Had only allowed his hand to fist his cock and think about her then, when even his shadows had gone to sleep. How that beautiful face might appear as he entered her, what sounds she'd make.

Emphasis on: - keeping the desire to himself - imagery of the female body - the sounds/moans

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 348

She was now lying on her side, her back to him. “About last night,” he said through his teeth. “It’s fine. It was a mistake.”

Azriel POV, pg. 4

His stomach twisted as he pulled his hand from her hair and stepped back. Forced himself to say, "This was a mistake.”

I think this is self-explanatory. The same words, similar situation. Rejection followed by a declaration of it being a mistake when the truth is that both couples are yearning for each other and want to be with one another.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 349

The desire hadn’t been what shook him at all. It was just … Aelin had driven him insane these past few weeks, and yet he hadn’t considered what it would be like to have her look at him with interest.

Azriel POV, pg. 3

Her arousal drifted up to him, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sweet scent.

So close one deep breath would brush her breasts against his chest. She looked up at him, her face so trusting and hopeful and open (...)

Rowan and Azriel didn't even think about the fact that their desire could be reciprocated- and more than lust they were shocked that Aelin/Elain would look at them with interest, longing, hope. They weren't ready to acknowledge the fact that they weren't alone in this spiral of emotions and feelings.

Moving forward we have the acceptance stage and romantic moments for Rowaelin in Queen Of Shadows. Of course in the case of Elriel we are limited to an extra chapter, however, there are still very prominent similarities in setting and wording.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 378

“Aelin,” he breathed. Not in reprimand or warning, but … a plea. It sounded like a plea. He lowered his head to her exposed neck and hovered a hair’s breadth away. She arched her neck farther, a silent invitation. Rowan let out a soft groan and grazed his teeth against her skin.

He let out another low groan, answer and confirmation and request, and the rumble echoed inside her

Azriel POV, pg. 4

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision.

Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut. Offer and permission. He nearly groaned with relief and need as he lowered his head toward hers.

Both couples operate without words. In the case of Rowaelin we have: - a plea - a silent invitation - an answer - a confirmation - a request

In the case of Elriel we have: - an offer - a permission - a decision - a relief - a need

The same setting, very similar description, and usage of words. As I was saying, in the case of Elain and Azriel relationship we are obstructed from Elain's point of view due to the content being a bonus chapter. Yet, we can draw a comparison between both couples. Why? Because SJM structured both rejections in the same way. Rowaeiln's rejection leads to a relationship, later to a discovery of being true mates. Is it a coincidence? From a writer's point of view and an avid reader - I don't believe so. She structured both rejections, in the same manner, using very similar vocabulary and even the familiar setting. In the case of Elriel - Azriel's "rejection" is what essentially builds a start for their relationship in the next book. We also have to remember that in Elain and Azriel situation we have:

- a mate - political background - forbidden romance - compatible powers - blood duel - connection to Koschei SJM gave us a setup for the premise of the next book which we know is Elain's. Azriel and Feyre's POV focus on her, but we know that it's one couple per book. Which perfectly aligns with Elriel and their rejection and pining. In SJM universe such rejections as the ones presented are used to further develop a couple, not to bring it down. The parallels are evident and if you are thinking that she doesn't use foreshadowing and she doesn't focus on details I would recommend rereading both series and see that SJM is an expert in foreshadowing - even the tiniest bits of it come out through the series.

That's why in the cases of her HEA couples rejection means endgame.

Queen Of Shadows, pg. 379

“This changes things,” she said, hardly able to get the words out. “Things have been changing for a while already. We’ll deal with it.”

[secondhand-trash]

How Do You Love

A/N: I got my laptop and I can finally write this out. I've been thinking about this non-stop since a few weeks ago when it got so cold all of a sudden and it has been agony to hold onto it but it’s here! 

Description: You had found it hard to believe that someone could love you despite your flaws, but how could you not believe someone like him?

Pairing: Kita Shinsuke x f!reader

Warning: mentions of being insecure, fingering, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, bath tub sex

Word count: 3054

-

The yellow glow of the heater graced upon your skin gently, but it was not enough to stop you from curling yourself tighter as you uncrossed your bare legs to let the limb that was starting to go numb lay on top of the other. You pulled the large towel, the only thing to shield you from the chill that was already starting to invade the closed windows of your bathroom, closer around your frame before you let out a shaky whine.

“It’s starting to get cold, Shinsuke.”

The man in question turned to look at you, diverting his gaze away from the facet and the half-filled tub. With his shirt rolled up to his elbows, his arm was hanging loosely on the white rim, fingers dipping into the water to test its warmth. The top few buttons of his collar were undone casually, the fading tan line around his arm left from the summer sun leading into the deeper ends of the opened collar had your legs that were overlapping on each other pushing your hips back subconsciously.

The sound of his hand pulling out of the water, flicking his wrist to get rid of the lingering droplets had you sit just a little straighter but it did not compare to the tingling fuzz slowly expanding from your chest down your spine when he let out a soft hum, the choppy pieces of his bang just falling above his eyebrows.

“Just a little longer, my love.”

You still felt a strong wave of heat burning across your face every time he spoke to you like that, like you could ask him for anything and he would give it to you.

There was a time when you would act out of your place deliberately to see how he would react, some sort of twisted desire to seek proof that he valued you from calculating how much was he willing to budge for you. You didn’t know what you had wanted from him when you pouted and whined at the smallest of things or just being difficult as a whole. Part of you was certain each time that this might just be the time he was finally done with you and in all fairness, you were sure you would not have nearly half the patience he had towards you if the tables had turned. You wondered what it was that made you so hell-bent to put a measurement on just how much love he had for you that this was how you chose to gain insight, knowing well enough that you would feel just as bad at the notion that he “did not love you” as you would have had he let you had your way.

It was a double-ended spear, with both sides aiming straight at your own insecurities that you refused to let shown but was equally desperate to have someone acknowledge. You wanted to know if he loved you enough to move his own net back and back but also slam yourself down when he did, your stomach caving in at the clear thought that you were not worth that amount of care the moment you even felt the want to test him. 

Whether it stemmed from a genuine confusion as to why someone like him would want someone like you or just general senes of incompetence, you did not know, but it did leave you staring down at your feet in shameful silence even when you thought of it now.

Perhaps the distaste you had against yourself made you reluctant to believe that there really would be someone who loves you despite your flaws, and you resorted to pushing him away through shoving him towards reasons and reasons to leave you all while selfishly hoping he would stay.

But Kita Shinsuke never left, even with you actively providing chances for him to do just that. He wasn’t sure what it was that put you in disbelieve, but if you want proof then he would just give it to you until you didn’t need them anymore. 

You didn’t remember when was the exact moment you were finally convinced, but you eventually stopped wondering why and just became content with the fact that it just was.

It was hard to place a mark on how much he loved you, but if you wanted one then there was no better way to put it than that it was enough for him to keep moving his own line back to take you out of your void and eventually meet him at his side.

The squeak of the facet halted your thoughts to a stop. You blinked when you snapped back to see him looking at you, a small smile dancing on his lips. You did not even notice that your gaze had fixed on him while you were in your own headspace, darting your eyes away with a sheepish grin when he extended his hand to you in amusement.

“Careful,” he murmured as you took his hand. A laugh accompanied the slight shake of your head at his caution as you pulled off the towel that was tied up around your chest. Goosebumps rose on your skin at the bareness, but some part of you was sure that it might be the doing of how he was looking up at you with so much tenderness while he held your hand.

The stark contrast of temperature had you pulling back a little when you dipped your toe into the water, the heat burning against your cold skin before slowly settling as a welcoming warmth. You let out a sigh as you submerged your body under the surfaces, sliding further down until it was just your shoulder that was out in the air.

Kita watched as you rolled your head back, your neck resting against the rim before turning to the side to look at him.

You were smiling, your eyes narrowing at him with a glint behind your lids. He was glad, he thought it was only right that you were always happy and content.

The breath that escaped your lips was long and steady, blending into the steam you were breathing in.

You opened your mouth lazily, letting your eyes close as you basked in the warmth, “You’re too nice to me.”

“Nonsense,” he scolded gently, standing up on his feet but not without pressing a quick peck on your lips as he reached your eye level. 

You had got to know that the feeling was mutual when you stretched your arm out, turning to your side and leaning on the tub while he undressed. Your skin glowing under the moisture and warmth, chest pushed up against your arms as you looked up at him behind your lashes with interest.

His finger nearly missed the button with a hitch of his breath, but he managed to conceal the momentary loss of his calm with his hand smoothing out the material hugging his torso.

You sank lower into the water as his hand went down and down, revealing more of his toned stomach as each button came undone. He was not the tallest or the most well-built person, but the contrast between his appearance and the muscles underneath the layers he always covered himself in had your breaths growing just a little heavier. Pulling his shoulders back swiftly as he peeled the shirt off, he turned around all while throwing the garment into the basket at the side before unclasping his belt. The action was slightly ceremonious, the turning around, given how well you had grown to be accustomed to every inch of each other’s bodies in the years but you could not find the voice in you to voice that out when his back was so sculpted, each swell and dent catching your eye as he pulled the leather off of his waist with a flex of his arms. 

The thump of the heavy fabric had your lips pursing tighter together, only following his frame out of the corner of your eye as he stepped into the tub. The water rose as he sat down at the other end with his legs just brushing against yours, his head tilting back as his mouth fell agape from his worn muscles relaxing under the warmth.

You gulped when he placed his elbows on either side of the tub, chest expanding as he spread his form to get comfortable.

As a person, you had grown past acting out to seek attention, but something about his brows locking together as his muscles spasms just made you want to push his buttons.

Golden eyes glanced down when the motion of the water grew violent. He complied willingly when he felt a tap of his toe against his leg, parting them so that there was space for you when you stood up. You made a show to whimper when you sat down again this time with your back to his chest, leaning your neck against his shoulder when the heat radiating off his body was now added to the warmth of the bath.

You could feel each ripple on his body on your skin, his firm thighs pillowing your sides as your hand drew mindless patterns against the root. He naturally brought one arm around your waist, calloused palm placed just above your stomach. Kita only watched as you went to toy with his free hand, letting you trace down from his knuckles to the vein on his inner wrist. 

Until you started pushing your hips back against him, and there was no way he could just watch as you deliberately press yourself onto his cock.

“Trying to get comfortable,” you said, biting your lips to stop the grin from creeping onto your face when his hand on your waist tightened its grip. Your hands were on his thighs, using the support as leverage to push yourself further up on his lap.

“Hm...”

The rumble came out as a vibration through his chest, and you couldn’t help but let yourself arch back at the gravel. His arm was locking you down, half-hard cock rubbing on the plushness of your skin. You wanted to moan at the growing heat pressed upon you, the image of his length filling and pulsing at your miniatures had your legs curling towards your body. The muscles of his legs were tensed under your touch and his breath now fanned at your ear as he hoisted you up by the waist. 

You stopped holding back when the sturdy hand travelled upwards and cupped your breast, the rough texture of his finger on your skin had you whining as it brushed against the underside of the swell before it found its way to the firm peek.

“Shinsuke!” you mewled when he gave your nipple a light pinch, the other hand slipping into the water when you were not paying attention and now creeping onto your thigh. He buried his nose in your hair, lips brushing against your earlobe as his hands wandered. The caress had you wiggling between his arms, with burning trails left behind on each corner he dragged his hand across.

Bath water thrashed around when you flipping yourself onto your knees, your arms were thrown around his neck as you pulled yourself up. His hand came to rest on your hips when you pouted, leaning closer until your lips finally met. He was quick to reply when you kissed him again and again, hand leaving its place to hold you still by the back of your neck as he parted his lips to deepen the kiss. You gasped when he tugged the loose strands of hair on the nape of your neck, your bodies moulding together as he slipped his tongue in.

Your eyes were glassy and hooded when he pulled back, lips still wet and parted with a pant. You moaned when his hand went to cup your sex, rolling your hips back to gain more friction on your cunt that was begging for more. His fingers rubbed against your folds, blood boiling at the sight of you chewing your bottom lip when the longest digit swirled around your clit. 

“Please,” you shuddered when nimble fingers spread you apart, the action making you clench around nothing but the warm water that felt incomparable to the heat throbbing between your legs, “I want you...”

You squeaked when a finger was pushed in, the hand on your back putting you in your place from taking him in deeper. Your walls sucked him in, begging to be filled with something more. 

“Is that so?” His voice was like honey, rich and deep as he plunged the digit in and out of your pussy. He chuckled at the way you nodded frantically, finally sitting up until he could look down on you. A slight push on your back made you arch, nowhere to hide the contortion of your face when he added in another finger just as you held yourself still for him.

“Want what?” He finishes off his sentence with a curl of his finger, sending jolts down your spine at the sudden pleasure. You had to force your eyes open, fixing your gaze that was dripping with wanton desire on the man who was waiting for an answer just the way he liked it.

Your voice was shaky as his digits scissored in you, swallowing the drool that was pooling up in your mouth when a breathy moan was pulled out. 

“Want your cock-” a hitch from the back of your throat disrupted you when he pulled out, running his finger along your fluttering lips, “-want your cock in me!”

he groaned, finally sitting up and pulled you onto him with his hands digging into the flesh of your hips. You gripped onto his shoulder for leverage when you felt his tip lining up at your cunt, your cheeks being spread by his firm knead on the plumpness as you hovered above his cock.

He tilted his head up to kiss you square on the lips, tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth when he pulled away, his breath fanning against you as he let out what almost sounded like a purr.

“Good girl.”

“Fuck-” you hissed when he sunk you down on his length, slowly and agonizingly. Your eyes shut together tightly in reflex at the stretch and the heat that was spreading everywhere in your system. Your nails scratched down on his shoulder as he buried deeper and deeper in you, until eventually you were sitting right on his lap with his cock throbbing inside your cunt. A light tap at the side of your hips was a silent command and with legs that were already starting to feel wobbly, you forced yourself to raise yourself up before slamming all the way down once again. Each roll had your body shaking, but the breathy grunts from the man whose cock you were bouncing on were enough to make you go on. The water surface tickled your skin as you fucked yourself on his shaft, the sound of squelching being muffled by the water that was moving around your joint bodies.

“Feels good?” he asked, kissing your neck and muffling the moan on your skin.

A sharp whimper was all you could manage to force out, too distracted by how hard and hot he was inside of you. An unexpected thrust had your mouth falling apart, your eyes rolling back as your waist felt near giving in.

“Shinsuke please,” you whined, voice breaking at the end when the grinds of your hips could no longer match up with the pace you had set and was chasing after. 

You collapsed on his chest when he lifted you off of him, with only his tip left buried in you before bottoming out of you again. All you could do was moan and claw at him as he took charge, bouncing you on his cock until you were nothing but a whimpering mess.

“So good, so good, so good-”

Your babbling was incoherent with your face against his chest, each flex of his stomach under your hands making you melt into him even more. Your toes curled as he fucked you hard and fast, aiming precisely at the spot that made your scalp go numb. It was his name that you cried out when the band in your stomach snapped, sending heat exploding in your core and white in your vision.

“Fucking-”

The rare obscenity that choked out of his cavity had you whimpering, your body still sensitive from your high. The rapid slams now faded into long strokes. He was holding it out, and you pouted at the clear intention that it was for you.

“I want to make you cum...” your whine was soft, still breathy from your pants, and he couldn’t help but groan.

The final push had you whimpering weakly against him, the loud moan rumbling out of his chest as he spilled his hot cum in you had your mind fogging over. He held you still as he took in a sharp breath, before slowly loosening the grip of his hand on your hips.

“No,” you protested when he wanted to pull out of you, rubbing your face on his collarbone before leaning against his shoulder, “let’s stay like this for a while.”

The bath water that already gone back to being lukewarm finally calmed down as you stayed still in his embrace. His face was flushed, the pounding of his heart just starting to steady itself as his finger traced soothing patterns on your arm.

He looked content, and happy, and the fuzziness in your chest returned.

“You are so good to me,” he wasn’t sure if you were really talking to him with the way you were looking hazily at the ripple on the bath as you brought your hand up, “why are you so good to me?”

Kita paused, and really thought about the question.

Perhaps he just wanted to be good to you and have you know that he wanted to.

And so he replied truthfully, with so much love in his eyes that it put you in disbelief that you had ever doubted the weight of his words.  

“I don’t think I need a reason for it.”

[legends-live-in-memories]

Rooftop Rendezvous

watch me ignore my wips challenge!

Timminette Oneshot 1.8K words 

Summary: Red Robin finds the new criminal, Karma, on a roof.

His only response is to make out with her.” contains sexual content

without further ado

She stuck to the shadows, tucked away between two AC units. She made use of her small stature and remained out of sight, hoping her prey would stop by soon. He should any minute now. He was meticulous and methodical such that he became painfully predictable. It led to a fun game of tag though, so she wasn’t complaining too much. Her little tweety bird was so fun to chase.

The sounds of a grappling wire sings through the night’s silence and alerts her to her new rooftop companion. She pushes further back into the shadows, watching the expanses of a black cape flow through the soft wind. Her attention zeroes in on the yellow belts that snugly frame the figure’s chest as he turns to survey the roof. He completely looks past her and faces the skyline again.

“No signs of Karma, but she couldn’t have gotten far.” His voice was sturdy and confident. Assured that he would find her before the night was over. How right he was. “Oracle said she spotted her in the Fashion District. She should still be here.” 

He was about to leave the roof and continue his search. She let him. He wouldn’t get far though. She didn’t want the night to end just yet nor did she want to drag out this little game. Patience wasn’t her best virtue after all. She crouched poised and waited until he leapt off the building heading to the west. Immediately, she sprung from her hidden spot and made a dash across the roof, running in the opposite direction. Loudly. Red Robin’s curse at her sudden appearance was music to her ears. Her delighted cackles rang out into the night as she lunged and landed on the nearest building. She couldn’t hear him behind her, but she knew he wasn’t far behind. He was predictable like that after all. 

She makes it another three blocks before a body is slamming into her. They fall into a roll and she lands above the red vigilante. She’s about to run away to prolong the chase but he has a firm grasp on her forearms and his legs lock into place behind her. Trapping her in the space between his thighs and pressing her weight into him. He reaches behind him and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. She couldn’t resist teasing him; he made it too easy.

“A bit early for kink exploration, wouldn’t you agree, tweety bird?” She peers up at him and flutters her lashes. He ignores her but his pretty pink blush tells her everything she needs to know. He drags them up to stand and pulls her to some overhead pipes belonging to the building’s plumbing system. He links one end of the handcuffs to her wrist and the other to a low hanging pipe. Red Robin tries to back away, about to abandon her but she won’t allow it. She takes her free hand and grabs at one of his belts on his chest. She yanks him until he’s pressed flush against her.

“Don’t ignore me, tweety. That’s rude.” Her tone is light and playful. She smirks at him but he can’t see it behind her mask. Hopefully her intentions are conveyed in her still visible eyes.

“I don’t plan on playing your games, Karma.” He sounds exasperated but his arms haven’t left her hips yet. They wound up there from her earlier aggression and she quite likes the weight of them. They’re steadying and heavy; a daunting pressure. “You’re a criminal and It’s my job to bring you to justice.”

“So what? That means you can’t have a little fun while doing it?” Her knee was slowly edging up the lines along his right leg, her ankle hooking him behind his knee. “Must get boring. The whole performance of being such a dutiful civil servant.”

“We do what we must in the name of the greater good. Something you could try emulating.” He leaned in closer to drive his point but all she did was lean further into the wall and tilt her chin up to look him in the eyes of his mask. His hair curtained his face and darkened his expression. She quite liked the looming appearance of him over her like this.

“Trust me, I know all about acting in the name of the greater good. The good-girl act got tiring after a few years.” She tilted her head further back, stretching out her neck and staring up at the sky. She could still feel his gaze burn into her exposed throat. She adored the attention. It lit a simmering fire under her skin. “Much more rewarding to give into your own self-interests,” she continued. “Something you could try emulating.”

He releases one of his hands to reach up to unclasp her mask, while the other snakes around her waist, eliminating all space between them. His gloved fingers brush against her back, gracing the thin slivers of exposed skin. The texture felt lovely and sparked shivers down her spine. He threw her mask behind him and the clatter of it against the roof went ignored. His hand returned to her chin and gripped her daintily. It was almost sweet. Tender even. Her hand that was still firmly grasping his belt slowly traced up his chest. She pressed firmly at his exposed neck and slid her hand into his hair at his nape, scraping her nails lightly against his scalp and tugged at the strands. His body pushed into her more, wedging his trapped leg further between hers. Someone likes having his hair pulled apparently. Delightful.

His lips parted, caught on an inhale, and he looks like he has something to say. He doesn’t speak though, just hold their position as the seconds ticked by. Her already thin patience was waning and her frustrations shone through.

“What? Waiting on Daddy Bats to give you more orders like a good little soldier?” She made her intentions clear by rolling her hips up into his and pulling more insistently on his hair. He hissed at the stimulation and his hips betrayed his already crumbling facade of professionalism. “Or are you going to finish what you start—”

He cut her off in the best way possible. His lips were forceful and his teeth nipped at her lips but this was exactly what she wanted. His tongue came out to play and she was more than willing to entertain. The kiss was wet and messy and absolutely perfect. The hand around her waist traveled further down her body and grabbed a handful of her ass. He groped further until he reached her thigh and his hand cradling her face reached for the other one. He lifted her so their heads were leveled and her leather clad legs were wrapped snugly around his hips. Her vice-like grip kept him just where she wanted him. The heat that was simmering earlier reached a light broil. She doesn’t remember closing her eyes but she relents her sight to sharpen her other senses. He felt solid and firm against her soft edges. He smelt like fresh aftershave. He tasted divine.

The hand in his hair guided him to her exposed neck. He lavished at the expanses of skin and went to work painting a mural of pink and red bruises. She was particularly tender at one spot, just below her jaw and she hissed at his sharp bites and kittenish licks.

“Just like that. Oh, fuck,” she had no control over what she was saying, her body giving into the ministrations. Her tweety bird hummed in response and it sent a sweet tingle down her body, curling her toes in response. He used his hold on her thighs to pull her hips into his, setting a controlled grind, slow and sensual. She was completely at his mercy. When he grew tired of sucking a dark bruise into her neck he travelled further down to the curves of her bust. She arched into his lips, body asking for more pressure. The hand in his hair tightened and pulled him to pay attention to her other side. That’s how they were, getting acquainted with each other. 

Her free hand left the back of his head and went to join her cuffed one. She slid the pick she kept up her sleeve out and fiddled with the lock, quietly. She paused every now and again to focus on the worship of kisses being left on her chest. He moved back up to her lips, leaving a trail of soft pecks on her overheating skin. She whimpers at the gentleness and he chuckles at her. He’s all too pleased with himself for her liking. She bites at his lip and soothes it with a soft swipe of her tongue. She presses her oversensitive chest into his, keeping his attention just where she wants it. Their hips haven’t stopped and the pleasure is blindingly distracting. He pants and moans into their kiss and she responds in kind. The heat has turned into flames under her skin and she could get addicted to this. She feels strung up like a live wire but it’s not enough. Her partner shares her sentiments, evident by the whispered babbles of ‘more’ and ‘so good’ punctuating the caresses of his kisses.

His hands roam around her body, one going down to her knee, the other up her back and this changes the angle in which they fit together. It’s exactly what was needed to bring that extra edge to their rooftop tryst. The pleasure is blinding and she feels every muscle tense as she’s brought to the long awaited precipice. Her tweety bird is throwing his head back, breaking their kiss, and their rhythm stutters as he convulses against her. His sighs of ecstasy flow into the night air as they come down from their highs together. 

He rests his head on her shoulder, chest heaving and limbs weak. She slowly extracts herself from his hold to stand on unsteady legs. Her breathing evens out and slows to match his own, sharing each other’s oxygen in their own secluded bubble. With both arms free she reaches up to caress the slight stubble on his jaw, committing his structure to memory. The silence is peaceful and she creeps around him to go for her discarded mask. Behind her, Red Robin braces against the wall, staring up at the night sky. He makes no move to accost her so she takes this as her cue to leave.

“We should do this again sometime,” her voice is touched with a hint of exhaustion, raw with emotion. She doesn’t look back at him. “You’re quite something, tweety bird.”

She doesn’t wait for a response but as she leaps across to the next building she hears his following remarks echo into the night.

“Negative, Batman. She got away. Maybe next time.”

Next time indeed, Red Robin.

[weirdlittlecorner]

Lin Kuei Hospitality: Cyrax

Notes: nsfw, 18+, comfort

Plot: A little slower, a little more sensual. Because Cyrax is a great character and deserves more attention and love

h/t = hair texture

Tags: @lilliannmac @onesillybeach @icy-spicy

—

The five men stood patiently as they awaited your decision. There was no doubt that any of them would show you a good time, which only made it harder to choose. You pursed your lips as you considered your options. Eventually, your attention shifted to the man in yellow. His dark skin and beautiful hair made him stand out as the most handsome of the men. But funnily enough, it wasn’t just his looks that drew your eyes to him. His demeanor was much different than the others. While he was standing at attention, as disciplined as the rest, there was a small crack in his stone exterior. As if he were in pain, though there was obviously nothing hurting him. That you could see, anyway.

It was almost as if he couldn’t stand being in the others’ vicinity. You wondered what could have happened to warrant such a reaction. This was the first time that you had ever seen any of the warriors up close, so you had nothing to go off of. It was most likely just some petty drama that was common amongst roommates- if they could even be considered as such. It would make the most sense. You, too, had your friends that you loved dearly, but you couldn’t imagine actually living with them every day. Either way, it wasn’t your place to pry.

The Grandmaster cleared his throat impatiently, motioning toward the line of men once more. Clearly wanting you to hasten and pick one so the rest could return to their business. Offering the dark-skinned man a warm smile, you nodded, “Come on, let’s get out of here,”

—

“Thank you for my new buzzsaw. I was able to try it out today; your work is very impressive,” The man, Cyrax, whispered as the two of you made your way through the long corridor to get back to your room. You smiled at the compliment, though that nagging confusion didn’t allow you to fully enjoy his words. His new buzzsaw. The one that had been amongst the new additions to the Grandmaster’s standard request.

What exactly did a clan like the Lin Kuei need all this new technology for? Again, it really wasn’t your business what your clients did with your products. But you couldn’t help but wonder... Whatever was going on, you just hoped that it was at least somewhat ethical.

__

The impending ‘improvements’ were a sensitive subject amongst the warriors. Cyrax had taken the most offense to the idea, as any normal person would, yet his fellow assassins thought that he was the crazy one. No, what was crazy was forcing one to give up their free will in exchange for the efficiency of automation. But he didn’t dare challenge the Grandmaster. Doing so would result in the most severe punishment; as if becoming a fusion of flesh and metal wasn’t already punishment enough.

“Hey, I noticed that you kind of… seem at odds with the others. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I just thought I’d ask if you wanted to talk about it,” You broke the silence, sinking down onto the bed and patting the space next to you. He claimed the empty space, sitting close enough so that your knees touched.

By the way his brows knitted together, you half-expected him to tell you. But he merely shook his head after a moment, “I am not at liberty to speak on the matter. But thank you for your concern,” His voice was even and had that same cold quality that was the standard, but you could tell that there was great sadness behind his words.

Instinctively, you opened your arms out to him, willing him to position himself in between them. You weren’t really sure what you had expected to happen, but soon enough, Cyrax was locked in your warm embrace. You gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, basking in the silent comfort of each other’s embrace. But soon you felt his shoulders stiffen, along with a kiss being pressed to the base of your neck.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” While you had been excited for tonight’s proposed activities, now was obviously not a great time. You wouldn’t ask him to perform for you just because it was what the Grandmaster had ordered. He needed, deserved, a break. And while you would certainly enjoy the contact, you refused to degrade the man. But he clearly didn’t think the same way. Not when his face was still buried in the crook of your neck.

“I understand that. This is something I want to do,” His words made you shiver as renewed excitement tore through your abdomen. Well, in that case…

A rough hand quickly found its way into your h/t, h/c locks, effectively undoing the delicate hairstyle. A pleasured shiver wracked your body as he used your hair to bring you closer to him as you two shared your first kiss of the night. You hummed as the tip of your tongue darted out to drag itself across his bottom lip, granting you an elicit moan in return.

Without breaking the intense oral lock, Cyrax’ hands freed themselves from the mess of hair in favor of untying the knots in your overshirt. You moved your dominant hand to assist him in the process while your other hand remained cupping his face. Shrugging to remove the fabric from your shoulders, you reluctantly pulled away to unclasp your bra. Seeing that you had things under control, Cyrax removed himself to focus on shedding his own clothing. But not before giving a hard, playful tug on the hems of your pants, effectively pooling them around your ankles.

A giggle slipped past your parted lips as you bent down, yanking your pants, along with your panties, off the rest of the way and kicking off your boots. You repositioned yourself so that your knees pressed against the soft sheets as you returned the favor to your partner. Eager fingertips clawed at the form-fitting armor, as if that would make it disappear faster. Cyrax hummed in amusement at your eagerness before unbuttoning the clasps and untying the knots for you. Impatience turned into wonder as your hands brushed over his chest. His abs. His shoulders. All of which were hard bands of muscle, but also soft in a way. Even his body reflected the gentle demeanor that had separated him from the others. The two of you were content to sit just like this, fingers exploring each other’s bodies.

You embraced each other, much like how you had done previously. Though this time, the intention was very different. The warmth radiating off of the two of you was almost unbearable, but you ignored it as you took to kissing each one of his prominent muscles. He sighed softly, enjoying your impromptu muscle worship. This continued until the pooling heat in your respective pelvises won out and you just had to go further. Cyrax shifted so that his legs boxed in your hips. Pressing himself against you once more, he brought his lips down to your manubrium to plant soft kisses in the crevice of your breasts. Meanwhile, his right hand was making quick work of his pants and boxers, his hard length pressing against your inner thigh. Which, if you might add, was already slick with your dripping arousal.

There was obviously no need to pregame, as you were both more than ready. You didn’t think that you could tolerate more teasing, anyway. Impatient once again, you wrapped your hand around the head of his penis to guide him in. The man groaned as your walls began compressing his cock immediately. With a few more pushes, he was completely in, reveling in the feeling of being consumed by your flesh.

Sighing, your arms found their way around his broad shoulders as he began thrusting into your tight core. The sounds of your mutual pleasure were only slightly louder than the creaking sounds the bedposts made as they scratched the wall behind them. Your e/c eyes closed in bliss as you enjoyed the rocking sensation of intercourse. His lips found yours once more as his speed increased and his hands made their way to your s/c legs. In a fluid motion, your ankles were craned toward the headboard as he pushed himself deeper. The sensation of your cervix being stroked caused you to scream, and you were glad that no one could hear you. You hoped not, anyway. What were once your gentle fingertips rubbing your lover’s back turned into talons that began clawing at the tingling flesh.

If it had hurt, he didn’t complain. But despite your muddled concerns, the feeling of you scratching his back only enhanced the warrior’s experience. He grunted each time your hips met, feeling his climax approaching. And you were right there with him, your smaller body trembling as the familiar knot twisted in your stomach. It kept building, and building until the knot finally uncoiled itself with a burst of wet heat. It felt as if the sun had just imploded inside of you and that you should be a pile of ash. But you were whole, despite the thick dick that was still stretching your pussy relentlessly.

Your screaming had grown impossibly louder as the warrior continued to batter your walls in anticipation of his own orgasm. What seemed like endless abuse to your cervix abruptly ended when you felt a spray of liquid spattering against the muscle. Your lover grunted, his brown eyes screwed shut and his bottom lip bleeding from his teeth cutting through the skin, as he hosed your insides with his warm semen.

Despite having finished, Cyrax made no move to pull out. Rather, he chose to rest over top of you, his cock warm inside your trembling hole. You allowed it.

There were no words. Maybe when you could think clearly again, you would be able to find your voice. It might be a little hoarse, to accompany the ache that would surely be present when you tried to walk in the morning, but that sounded like just that: a morning problem.

[winterscaptain]

take the day.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: a treat for the grown-ups in the room! this was inspired by an ask from many moons ago, and a couple of ideas submitted in the form. i hope you all enjoy, and as always, tell me what you think (and practice safe sex)! this fic contains explicit content and is 18+. minors do not interact or prepare to be blocked! also some tags aren’t working - please double check your urls below!

words: 2.8k warnings: smut (p in v penetration, [consentual & monogamous] unprotected sex, creampie, counter sex, floor sex, oral [reader receiving], very light soft dom!aaron),language, food mention

summary: “if you can’t laugh with your partner during sex, break up.” - my sister-in-law. au!november 2021.

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | taglist | what do you want to see next?

“Take the day. Nothing’s going on here and we don’t have any cases for once.” 

You tuck the phone under your chin as you pack the last of the kids’ lunches. “Really?”

Emily’s smile is audible through the phone. “Really. It’s Friday, and isn’t Hotch out today?” 

“Yeah, but mostly just to avoid the meetings with -” 

Just then, Jack rockets down the stairs, throws his backpack over his shoulder, and grabs his lunch off the counter. With a kiss to your cheek, he jets out the door with a quick, “Bye, Mom!” 

You blink rapidly, kind of taken aback by the abrupt nature of his departure. He can drive himself to school now, but he doesn’t always take advantage of it. 

“Sorry, Em. Jack just left for school like a damn tornado and I gotta get Isaac out of bed.”

She laughs. “No worries. Swing by my office when you drop the girls at preschool. I’ve got a couple of things for Aaron.” 

+++

When you return, the house is eerily quiet. 

You toe off your shoes and round the corner to the office with an armful of files in your hand. 

Unceremoniously, you drop them on his desk. “These are from Emily.” 

He huffs a laugh through his nose without looking up. “Thanks.” 

With a sly little smile, you leave him to his work. 

Padding across the hall to the master bedroom, you light the fireplace and replace your winter clothes with one of his dress shirts, two buttons holding it closed over the middle of your abdomen, and a pair of fuzzy socks. 

You’re grateful for the central heating in the house. You’d never be able to pull this off without it. 

After you sneak into the kitchen for a glass of water (you know - the ruse of usefulness), you return to him and place the water next to his left hand. He hardly looks up but mutters his thanks under his breath. 

You take your time leaving the office, just reaching the door when you hear, “Wait, hey. Whoa. Back up.” 

You don’t follow instructions, walking out of his office and into the kitchen, making play at putting lunch together. 

A pair of familiar hands slide up your thighs and underneath the shirt.

“Is this mine?” 

You hum in the affirmative. “Thought you’d like it. It looks good on you so I figured it would look alright on me.” 

“Uh huh. Yeah, well, if those were the rules I’d have to hand over my entire wardrobe.” Aaron spins you and presses you back into the island, your back arching as he crowds closer to you, his mouth hovering over your neck. “You look better in my clothes than I do.” 

You hum again, but your brain is too fuzzy to come up with a retort. He laves kisses over your neck, dropping to your collarbone and brushing his shirt off your shoulder. You decide in that moment to let go, relaxing back into the counter and giving him implicit permission to have his way with you. 

“Yeah?” He asks, feeling you sink back. 

You nod, bringing your hand to his hair and pulling him to your lips. “Yeah.” 

With a dark laugh, he turns you around again and snags your hands, pressing them to the cold granite countertop. You’re stretched taut, your legs already shaking with anticipation. 

His hands slide up your arms and over your back, the starched fabric of his dress shirt a delicious texture over your skin. He reaches your hips, his hands wandering under the hem of his shirt and hooking his fingers in the fabric of your underwear, practically tearing them over your ass and down your legs. You step out of them and he nudges them out of the way. 

He kicks your feet apart at the ankles, spreading your legs and forcing your back into a gentle arch. 

A perk of law enforcement training - some moves translate well in the bedroom. 

Or the kitchen. 

You hear him unbutton his jeans and free himself, not even pretending the last half-hour hasn’t been its own kind of foreplay. An empty house is practically an open invitation at this point. 

He runs the head of his cock through your folds, pressing against your clit with every pass. You drop your forehead to the countertop with a whine, letting the cool temperature soothe your heated skin. 

Aaron doesn’t quit rutting against your wetness, only just teasing your entrance before sliding up to your clit again. From experience, you know he could theoretically do this for hours, waiting for you to get desperate, squirmy, and whiney.

It’s working. You wiggle back against him, but his hands cover yours with a smack as he shushes you, his hips pressing yours flush against the edge of the counter. You’re sure the granite against you would hurt if it wasn’t so hot. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks, low and soft in your ear. 

You swallow as his lips wander over your neck and shoulder. “I want you.” 

He hums in understanding, sucking bruises along the line of your shoulder blade. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Your answer is breathless, and you shove your fingers between his from underneath, holding on as best you can. 

“Do you know how good you look in my shirt and nothing else?”

You nod. 

“Do you know what it does to me when you look like that? My wife in my clothes?”

You don’t answer, knowing it’ll only pay off for you. He lets go of your hands and grips your hips, yanking you back toward him. It’s only an inch or so, but you can feel his cock pressed against you, the cold metal buttons against your ass, the coarse feeling of his jeans against the skin of your thighs. 

“Do you want me to show you what it does to me? What you do to me?” 

You swallow and nod, pressing your chest into the counter, bracing yourself. “Yes.”

He lines himself up with your entrance, plenty slick with your arousal - you’re practically dripping, soaking your thighs and the apex of your legs. 

Aaron slams into your heat, all the way to your cervix, with a searing kiss pressed to the middle of your back to smother his groan. You cry out from deep in your chest, drawing it out as he pulls back, dragging against your walls before filling you again, his hips audibly making contact with your ass. 

It’s rare you get a chance like this. Even at night, with the kids’ rooms upstairs, you have to be relatively quiet. Aaron, when he really lets go, can get loud, and so can you, with his encouragement. So, needless to say, your opportunities are few and far between. 

A steady stream of curses leave him through gritted teeth, watching his own hands pull you onto and push you off of his cock, bottoming out every time. 

You’re not even sure what noises you’re making, but there are a lot of them. You unstick your palms from the granite, reaching around to press your fingertips into the part of Aaron’s hip you can find. 

He leaves you then, falling out of your reach as he pulls out and turns you around again. 

Suddenly, you’re over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. 

How does he do that?

The smell of his body wash from his morning shower lingers in the air as he brings you into the bedroom, dropping to his knees on the soft rug in front of the lit fireplace. 

He supports your shoulders as he tips you backwards, sealing your lips in a searing kiss. Your hands are in his hair, more for the feeling of it than for support. 

The plush rug is warm from the fire, a stark contrast to the cool kitchen island. His weight on top of you seems to sink right into your bones, a feeling of safety and love soaking into your skin. 

Much to your chagrin, he’s still fully clothed, his pants loose around his hips and his shirt hiked up to his ribs. You find the hem and separate yourself from his mouth only long enough to yank it over his head and throw it toward the bed. 

He laughs into his next kisses, but it turns into a sigh as your hands run over his sides, pressing firmly into his waist, before dragging up his back and back into his hair. 

“Are you gonna let me go?” He asks against your mouth. 

You shake your head. “Don’t wanna.” 

He laughs, tipping your head back and peppering kisses to your jaw and neck. “Fine.” 

His kisses meander down, nosing a path past the collar and buttons of his shirt on his way to your chest. He pauses at your breasts, drawing patterns with his tongue until you’re taut and puckered under his touch. 

His hands follow his mouth, unbuttoning the two buttons you’d done up to play at modesty, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. He reaches your hips and scoops your legs onto his shoulders, kissing a path down the creases of your thighs. 

When he finally wraps his lips around your clit, your hips buck into him. He laughs, sending a buzz up your spine, and locks your hips in his hands, holding you securely to his mouth. 

You resist the urge to bring your hand to your face, letting your whimpers and groans leave you at full volume. One hand finds a home in his hair while the other claws at the carpet. He could probably eat you out in his sleep at this point, what with the way he knows the pace, the pattern, the pressure you like. He’s consistent but never boring, always managing to lull you into a dull hum of pleasure, your legs shaking under his hands, before pulling something that makes you jump and whine. 

His warm breath fans across your lower belly, keeping him centered as he flicks his tongue against your clit, dipping lower to your entrance, sliding back. He sucks your inner lips into his mouth, letting them go with obscene, wet pop before pulling your clit back into his mouth, feasting on you like a man starved. 

You clench around nothing, desperate for him to fill you with anything, anything to ease the want that courses through you. There might be a moment when you ask for something, but you’re not entirely sure. 

He chuckles, a dark and smug sound, but only continues until your center starts to throb, shocking your body with pleasure all the way to your fingertips. Aaron can feel it too, running his hand up your abdomen, reminding you to relax. 

You take the note, slowing your breath and relaxing into the floor. Your grip in Aaron’s hair doesn’t budge, tight and close to the root. 

He’s determined to get you off with his mouth alone, his fingers digging deeper into your hips to keep himself on track. 

The pulse of your walls continues until the tension crawls into the rest of your body. Your shoulders pull away from the rug as your body curls forward, your hips stuttering even under Aaron’s firm grip. Both of your hands wind into his hair and you fall over the edge, chanting his name. 

Your upper body twists, your cheek against the plush carpet as you convulse under his continuing ministrations. Your hips are still locked to the floor under his hands, braced by his shoulders and held by his mouth. You can feel his smile as he rides it out with you, backing off on the pressure as pleasure rolls through you in violent, overwhelming waves. 

Your jaw seems to be stuck open, your eyes wide as you stare into nothing. Aaron slows, the strokes of his tongue long and drawn-out against the length of your sex, before stopping entirely, pressing a kiss right above your clit. 

He crawls up your body, keeping some of his weight on you as he finds your lips again. You’re still boneless, catching your breath, shaking, and experiencing little shockwaves that irregularly catch your abs.

With that in mind, you can hardly kiss him back - instead, passively letting him smother you in affection, vaguely processing the fact you can taste yourself on his tongue. You wrap your ankles around his lower back, and he finally sheds his jeans and boxer briefs. 

“You good?” He asks. 

You nod. “Mhmm.” You reach between your bodies and stroke him a couple of times. “Gimme.” 

He laughs out loud then, kissing you soundly as he slides home. 

You whimper into his mouth, your overheated flesh alive with sensation as he rocks into you, nearly frictionless. He holds you tight, his hand splayed across your shoulders underneath the shirt you’re still (somehow) wearing. 

You let your mind wander a little, combing through Aaron’s hair with your fingers and tucking your face into his neck. 

It’s been ten years with him, almost exactly. You’re a far cry from the person you were then, and you think maybe Aaron is a different man, too. 

Not where it counts though. He’ll always be that chronically-stressed, endlessly-dedicated tightass who thinks too much and speaks too little. If anyone asked, he’s still the smartest, warmest man you know. Privately, you know he’s also the dumbest invulnerable moron who ever drew breath. 

That makes you laugh, and you wrap your arms further around him. He doesn’t stop, but cranes his neck to look at you. 

“What?”

You shake your head, bringing your hands to the sides of his face, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Just thinking about you.”

He laughs a little breathlessly, his head tilting sardonically to the side as he snaps his hips to yours, making you jump and clench around him. “I’d hope so.”

Flipping onto his back, he pulls you on top of him and has the audacity to wink at you. 

The pair of you giggle and laugh your way to your destination. His laughing smothers his curses as he cums, fucking up into you and holding you flush to him by the hips. You follow him by scant seconds, bracing yourself on his chest as you drag out your orgasm, enjoying the rush and the laughter and just being together. 

When you both completely run out of steam, you lift yourself off of him and tip sideways, landing flat on your back out on the rug. 

This poor thing has seen more use today than in its entire lifetime. 

You roll over after a second, propping your head on your elbow. Aaron mirrors you, meeting your eyes. 

“That was fun,” he says. 

You nod, bringing your hand to the graying hair at his temple. “Don’t get too many chances for this kind of fun anymore, huh?”

He sighs and pulls your hand from his hair, kissing your palm and folding your hand in his. “No, we don’t, but it’s…” He thinks for a moment. “It’s nice to appreciate it more than we used to.”

“Yeah.”

+++

You twist back and forth on the barstool, watching Aaron slice an apple and some strawberries. You both did away with the lunch idea, deciding it was too much work to put something together. 

It feels awfully like your first weekend together, the only differences are in the scenery. Even the wardrobe is similar. You’re in the shirt he started in, not much else, and he’s in his jeans, shirtless and barefoot. 

It’s nice to see him wandering around with a kind of carelessness. You’re not sure any of the little ones have seen him without a shirt, not for any real length of time that they would remember. He told you once that he doesn’t want to scare them. 

You reminded him that this is their normal, too. They’ve never known him without the scars so they’ll always know him with them. The little ones don’t know to be scared. 

Still, he’s careful. 

It’s a work in progress. 

“What were you thinking about before?” He asks, rounding the island. He goes to lean on it, but hesitates. “We have to wipe down the counter.”

You snort and take the plate from him, headed for the living room. “It’s been ten years and you’ve never changed.”

He rolls his eyes and follows you, sitting down in his chair so you can sit in his lap, the plate of fruit on the coffee table. “Is predictable so bad?”

“No,” you reply, your eyebrows raised. “I was just answering your question.”

He huffs a laugh down his nose. “You haven’t changed, either, for the record.”

“Is that a good thing?”

With a smile, he pulls you gently by the side of the head, tucking you under his chin. “It’s a very good thing.” Then, almost inaudibly -

“A great thing.”

+++

tagging: @writefasttalkevenfaster @arganfics @angelsbabey @venusbarnes @quillvine @stxrrywildflower @criminalsmarts @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @hotchslatte @avengersbau @ssareidbby @qvid-pro-qvo @joanofarkansass @popped-weasels @reidtomestyles @crazyshannonigans @iconicc @deagibs @starsandasteroids @unicorn-bitch @ambicaos @bwbatta @lotties-journey-abroad @ssahotchnerr @unicorn-bitch @capricorngf @zizzlekwum @cevanswhre @this-broken-band-girl @word-scribbless @averyhotchner @reidingmelodies @shesbiochem4 @violet-amxthyst @kelstark@mandylove1000 @sunshine-em @starsandasteroids @roses-and-grasses @ssworldofsw @sunflowersandotherthings @little-blue-fishie @happyvol7 @ssa-holmes @ssahotchner99 @triangularroses @vagabond-ing @itsmytimetoodream  @magic_in_the_eyes_of_the_beholder

[hellothere-generalangsty]

Gloved hand (Crosshair)

Summary: Crosshair found a way to get rid of his chip, and went looking for his brothers in the depot, fully aware of the confrontation that would follow.

No pairing or reader description, only the member of the Batch

Word count: 2761

CW/TW: ANGST; Death, trauma, guilt, violent memories/ nightmares, burns/scar, some swearing; I don’t know how graphic my style is, so if I forgot anything please tell me!

Tags: @allamarisss @loth-wolffe @imalovernotahater (you all asked 🤧)

@razena88 @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s (non of you asked but I thought you'd want to check it out since you reacted to my Crosshair post; if you don't want to be tagged just tell me and I'll remove it !)

Notes: I had to. Because you’re all nice and I love pain, so here is the Sad Hour: Crosshair Edition™; Enjoy! (aka, I hope you’ll suffer a bit)

PS: sorry about the little dots when I skip a line, it’s the only way I could well...skip a line. I’ll try to find another way for the future!

PPS: The Neighbourhood - Roll Call is the song I listened to while writing this 🤭

______________________________________

He knew they were waiting on him, on the move he would make. They didn’t know about his chip being removed – not yet – and he knew he only had one shot.

How ironic.

He was still wearing the Imperial armour, face covered by his helmet, rifle attached to his back. He could see the way Hunter tightened his fingers around the trigger, and he recognised that look; the one he usually gave to his opponents before he killed them. He could get away; Hunter was a good shooter and his senses did helped for that; but Crosshair was the marksman. He guessed by a simple look at the scenery that the shot would crush through his pectoral plates, and given the distance and the type of blaster, it would surely shake him out, but it wouldn’t kill him.

As much as he sucked at it, he had to resort to words. He wasn’t the Empire’s puppet anymore, and trying once again to threaten them…It was simply out of the question.

Slowly, he raised his hands to his helmet, grabbing the lower part of it. He waited a second, not sure about the short moment where his vision would be obstructed.

Come on, you don’t get to worry about getting shot. Take the damn bucket off.

He pushed it up his head, briefly closing his eyes as a ridiculous way to sooth his morbid thoughts. When he opened them up again, Hunter hadn’t moved an inch. He didn’t know how much time he had, so Crosshair dared to take a step forward. Then another, holding his helmet in one hand, keeping the other one on the plastoid covering his chest, gently taping it with a gloved finger.

He stopped at the fourth step. The Batchers tensed up, unsure of what his next move would be. Crosshair knew what he was doing.

T’s your time to shine, Cross.

“DC-17. Round it down to a 7 meters distance from the target, slightly move your arm to your left.” He taped on a small spot of his chest plate, never breaking eye contact with Hunter. “Make me proud.”

It was a bold move, he knew it too damn well. He forced himself to maintain eye contact with them, with him, as much as it scared the crap out of him. As much as he hoped, deep down, for his brother to take pit-

.

 It was quick, bright. Finger pressed against the trigger, Hunter noticed every wave in the sound of the shot as it echoed in the depot. He followed the blue deflagration as it got spit out of his blaster, sliding the air in a thin whistling, brushing past Crosshair’s left arm, hitting another clone further behind.

He didn’t know if it was the right decision; but he knew enough about Crosshair to try it.

“I said ‘to your left’” was the only thing that came out of Crosshair’s mouth as he turned his head to look at the man lying on the floor a few meters behind him. He wasn’t dead, and now they had to quickly evacuate.

But Cross was alive. For now.

“Tech, get in there and be ready to take off when I tell you to! Wrecker, you cover us. Crosshair.”

The sniper pulled out his own blaster, back turned to the Batchers, ready to shoot any intruder trying to rip him away from his family once again. He soon felt a firm hand grasping his shoulder and dragging him back. He didn’t fight it, didn’t look at it. His focus was on the men running in the depot, on the way he hit them with such precision it almost felt too easy.

He was the last one to get in the Havoc Marauder, still shooting as the door closed shut in front of him.

.

 “…Crosshair?”

His heart pounded so hard in his chest that for a moment, he thought it might go through the plastoid armour and crush against the wall. There was the next move. So easy to execute, yet so terrifying.

“Crosshair, look at us.”

It was the tone; too formal, almost polite. He hated it. But he obeyed anyway, slowly turning around to face his tattooed brother.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down and cut that crap.

Hunter remained silent for a moment, examining Crosshair’s face scarred by burns, his new shaved side and white patch on the side of his head. The violent pumping and barely shaky breath told him more than the stoic eyes he was staring at.

“How’d you do it?”

“A droid helped.” Hunter’s nod was the only answer he got.

Keep talking, di’kut.

“I-”

“I missed you.” confessed Wrecker. “I think we all did.”

Now it was his turn to nod. What could he possibly answer? ‘I missed you too, but mostly because my chip made me want to kill you.’?

You didn’t wanted it, you had no choice.

“You didn’t have a choice,” Echo got a bit closer to him, even though he couldn’t tell if it was a good idea. “We know you didn’t.”

“Now that you removed your chip, you’re out of risks.” commented Tech, trying to comfort him a bit.

Each second passing was getting him closer to the edge. He wasn’t looking at faces, he was looking at phantom targets, still feeling the stings stabbing his brain every time he hesitated before shooting at them. Their voices were hardly getting to him, they were so distant, probably a faint memory from a time where he still had control.

“…get you something to eat, and you’ll go take a shower. Works for you?”

“Yes, Sarge.”

He knew the small clap on his shoulder was more of a friendly kind than a brotherly one. He hated it. He deserved it.

.

.

 He never felt that uncomfortable while eating with someone before. Even lunches on Kamino’s cantina weren’t as awkward. Tech tried to initiate a small talk, mentioning their next mission, the supplies they would need to get, and Omega tried to keep him going by nodding and asking questions he knew were useless.

But really, it was just an excuse to avoid the talk. Given the situation, it would probably hurt less to just… confront him. Tell him he scared them, when he callously ordered Hunter to stand down and surrender, told his troopers to “aim for the kid”. Not that he didn’t know; he found the confession in their eyes every time they would look at him.

He barely ate, rolling a fresh toothpick between his gloved fingers as he weakly chewed on his food.

“I’ll take the first round tonight,” Hunter muttered, mostly for himself.

Crosshair slowly got up from his seat, putting his ration away, trying to avoid the stares. He slid his toothpick between his lips, nibbling a bit harder than usual on the wooden texture. All he had to do was turn around and leave the cockpit. He had done it countless time by the past, what’s one more?

He wanted to lay down and sleep his pain away, get drowned in the pillows and forget all about what happened. He took a few steps, pretended he didn’t flinch when a hand caught his own, but couldn’t bring himself to smile at Omega when she gently rubbed his knuckles.

She didn’t say anything, she simply followed him to the bunk beds. Crosshair could barely look at her, because every time he did he could only see the scared look she gave him when he ordered it.

Aim for the kid.

It was haunting; she was just a child, a mixture of a little sister and a daughter for the Batchers, and he tried to rip that away from them too.

His attention shifted to the beds when he noticed the lights around his. He could also see a glimpse of a plush – oddly familiar – and a soft blanket nicely pulled over the mattress.

“We – she needed a place to sleep, and you were gone so…”

Wrecker, who followed him too, was uncomfortable; he was the one who came up with the idea. As much as he missed Crosshair, he knew he needed to take care of his little one because she was here. But now, Cross was back.

“Keep the bed,” he murmured, “I don’t mind.”

And he meant it. He would have done the same if Wrecker, or Echo or whoever went missing like he had. The kid deserved a comfy place to rest, her life with them already being chaotic enough.

“I can sleep with you, I don’t mind. I can stay at the end of the bed if you’d prefe-”

“It’s fine, Omega.”

He painted a weak, yet gentle smile on his face, hoping for it to convince her. It did, because she nodded and held his arm against her for a few seconds as to hug it. Wrecker – and Echo later that night – offered him to sleep in their bed. “I can sleep with Tech if you want it all for yourself” the 501st vet assured him. But Crosshair declined each time, pretending that he would probably not sleep anyway tonight, just tonight, because he needed to get used to this place again.

In a way, it was true. He needed time to find his footing here, to get back to the way things used to be.

Don’t pretend it will go back to ‘how it used to be’. It could never.

.

 When everyone headed to bed, Hunter returned to the cockpit and found the sniper sitting on his own.

“I’ll take the first round, Crosshair. Go get some sleep.”

“I don’t have a bed,” he barely confessed, his usual sarcastic tone nowhere to be found.

“Take mine for now, I don’t need it before a few hours. Don’t discuss it,” he pursued when Crosshair tried to reply, “I’m not giving you a choice.”

It took him a second to realise how clumsy it sounded, but Crosshair spared him the embarrassment of an apology when he got up and nodded.

“Alright, sorry.”

Hunter grabbed his shoulder, unsure about his next move, but trying anyway.

“It’s…We can’t pretend nothing happened, but we’ll work through this. All of us,” and when he heard Crosshair’s heart pumping harder and his breath getting heavier, he added, “as a family.” Before letting go of him.

Crosshair couldn’t even speak anymore. If he tried, all that would come out would be confused babbling and an awkward throat clearing. He hoped on his brother’s heightened senses to read through him like an open book, throwing back one last look before he got back to the bunk beds. All the Batchers were already sleeping, peacefully wrapped in their blankets or holding their plushie against their chest. He sat on the edge of Hunter’s bed, his blacks still on, eyes locked on the soft lights emanating from his old bed.

.

 Hunter woke up when he felt a soft weight landing on his lap. The smell got him almost immediately, a mixture of gunpowder and iron.

“You should have surrendered.”

His eyes shifted to the slim shadow standing a few steps away, lurking on him with cold determination.

“Crosshair?” He looked down at the soft plush laying on him. Lula. Her head was almost ripped in half by a now barely fuming hole. He couldn’t hide the fear splashing his eyes, neither could he refrain his voice from breaking when he asked “what did you do?”

“I did what had to be done. This is why they put me in charge to track you. I’m efficient.”

Hunter shivered at the sick smile he could hear in Crosshair’s voice. His thoughts ran from the plush to Omega, to the bunk beds at the end of the hallway, to his brothers left unarmed at the mercy of a sniper who had none.

“You should have killed me in that depot.”

“Crossha-”

A quick thud filled the cockpit as a red, bright light stroked Hunter right through the chest. He fell back into his seat, unable to breathe, but way too aware of the burn on his skin, of the nerves flaming up under the chock and the heat, of his heart rapidly pulsing then slowing down in a macabre countdown. He got dizzy, eyes blurring out despite his desperate attempt to get them focused.

He struggled to keep his head up, until a gloved hand grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look up. He could guess the shapes of the helmet, the green and grey shades melting altogether as his eyes barely held open. As he felt his own heart stop, his last breath making him chock, he heard his brother’s voice taunting him, one last time.

“Good soldiers follow orders.”

.

.

  Pitch black. This is all Crosshair could see when he abruptly opened his eyes. The blanket was rolled up at his feet, his blacks soaked in sweat, and his head aching. A sudden terror grasped him as he held his temple, tripping off the bed as he tried to get up, muttering Hunter’s name. He choked up on the syllables when he realised he was sleeping in his brother’s bed, while the tracker was nowhere to be found. He found himself struggling for air, the same way he would if someone stabbed him repeatedly in the chest. He dragged himself to the refresher, locking the door as soon as he got in.

The bright light forced him to close his eyes for a few seconds, but once he got used to it he reached the tap. His hands, usually so precise and steady, where uncontrollably shaking, to the point of him getting cramps.

The cold water did nothing to help; he shivered to the wet contact, lightly gasping when he splashed his face, but did it again, and again, trying to wash off the pain of his body.

Did I killed them? Did I? What if I did, what will I do, what if I killed them, I can’t- I can’t lose them, not again, not this way, I-

His head was buried in his hands, and it demanded all his strength for him to look up in the mirror. He quickly regretted doing so.

He hated those scars. Mostly, what they represented, what they meant.

It means you tried to get them burned alive; you ordered for them to be burned alive by an active propeller. This is what they mean, this is what you did.

He hated his reflection, lurking and haunting him the same way his memory did. A phantom pain none of them could imagine.

You like to pretend they don’t get it, but they do. Their own brother tried to kill them. You did that, Crosshair; don’t put the blame on your victims.

“Kriff,” he bitterly chuckled, tears burning his eyes.

You did this to yourself. Take some responsibilities.

He tried to maintain eye contact with himself, fingers gripped so tight around the edge of the sink he could feel his muscles quiver. He didn’t have a choice, he knew that. The chip forced him, the Empire used him to do these terrible things.

If a gloved hand kills you, will you blame the glove, or the hand?

You’re the hand, Crosshair. Nothing you will ever say or do will change that.

Nothing.

“Shut the kriff up,” he gave up, angrily pushing himself away from the sink, but still catching a glimpse of tears running down his cheeks before he turned his head, defeated. “Keep the snide to yourself.”

He jolted when someone softly knocked on the door. He took a few deep breaths to calm down his pumping heart, wiped away the tears with the back of his hand, and opened the door.

“I didn’t find you in the bed,” Hunter explained while analysing his expression, “I thought you’d be in here.”

“I can take the next round.” Crosshair calmly responded.

“Mine’s not done yet.”

“Hunter, please I- let me take the next round.”

He couldn’t say which of the two, his muffled “please” or his begging eyes, convinced Hunter; but it worked and that was enough for him. He didn’t flinch this time, when his brother gently patted his arm; he even wished for a quick, warm embrace. But he doubted Hunter was ready to get affectionate with him so easily. Truth be told, he didn’t feel that comfortable either. It was a crave he couldn’t fill.

He still cracked a weak smile as Hunter nodded and returned to his bed to get some rest.

Crosshair dragged himself to the cockpit, his stomach twisting at the sight of the empty seat on his right. He fell into his own, a long sigh slipping from his lips.

.

Don’t fall asleep.

[quirkisms]

OFF YOUR CHEST - M. TOGATA (i)

pairing: mirio togata x fem!reader

summary: Mirio tears himself apart, and you're there to heal the pieces.

word count: 2k

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, strangers(ish) to lovers, AU where UA is college, not highschool (i dont want 2 write about minors), mirio is quirkless and is Dealing With It, slow burn, trauma and anxiety coping 

ao3

He splits another knuckle open.

It’s no different than any other exercise or training, but he’s different. He’s stronger now, and smarter but he’s still less. He punches the wall again, willing it to go through. For a second, he thinks he can feel the soft tendrils of the void past the surface beckoning him, urging him forth. It’s asking him where he’s been, that it missed him and that he’s back. For that second, it’s real. His hand is sinking through and he’s back.

But the rough texture of the wall sinks into the cuts he’s ripped into his skin and he’s pulling back, sucking in air through his teeth and withholding curses.

He cradles his right hand with his left, blood trailing down the grooves of the taught tendons on both battered hands.

Mirio’s chest is heaving, his breaths varying from deep to shallow, his heart rate erratic. The buzz in his pocket disrupts his stare at the red stains his punches had left.

TAMAKI

where r u

It hurts to curl his hand around the device, but he does anyway. He wipes the other hand on his pants before responding.

Training! What’s up?

TAMAKI

patrolling tn. just wanted to lyk

Okay - Stay safe! 😀

Mirio pockets his phone. He wants to manually rub the grime out of the cuts or even just leave them the way they are. The sting is a juxtaposition from how his life was before. No longer can he float in the nothingness, phase through infinity until he needs to come up for air.

He feels everything now.

He makes his way towards UA’s medical clinic. It’s late, past dinner at least, which means it’ll be empty save for one person. Recovery Girl doesn’t work the hours like she used to, not since you came in. The clinic after hours feels safe, secretive and his. You’re always there late, as far as Mirio knows. Since the first time he injured himself by pushing himself past his newfound limits (which were significantly less than what they used to be) you’d always been there when he’d sneak in.

Tonight, you were hunched over textbooks, highlighter dangling out of your mouth. If he could’ve, he would’ve lingered in the doorway to watch you. Instead, the few droplets of blood spilling from his hands alerted you of his presence. You peek over your shoulder at him before capping the marker and nodding for him to sit on one of the empty exam beds. It was routine.

“You outdid yourself this time,” You said as you cleaned the open wounds. He’d beaten the flesh raw, almost exposing bone and you wanted to scold him but you knew it was useless. He’d just brush you off with a shrug, a smile and tell you it’s not that big of a deal. Pain is part of getting stronger.

Mirio doesn’t respond. Instead, he chooses to let his eyes flick around the room. Recovery Girl’s absence is notable - no more jar of candy, and you’ve taken over her desk and littered it with your own knicknacks. Your textbooks, an All Might water bottle, a Kamui Woods pez dispenser. It’s cute, he thinks.

“Did you have a punching match with one of those hardening quirks?” You’re frowning as you pop a piece of jerky in your mouth. “Maybe Cementoss?”

“Cementoss,” he confirms, only because that would be the only way he’d have so much...particulate within the splits. Cementoss was made of rock, and Mirio would rather die than admit to you he was relentlessly punching a wall.

You snort, shaking your head as you chew. You both know he’s full of it, but you drop it. You always do.

A soft, blue glow escapes from underneath your hand. His hand feels fuzzy, like it's fallen asleep before it dissipates and you remove your hand, motioning for him to lift his other so you can begin the same process.

As you clean the other hand, Mirio watches you work. You ignore the weight of his gaze the best you can, focusing on repairing the skin and not how strong and smooth his fingers are. His hand is heavy in yours, and the glow of your quirk flickers as you lose focus imaging what his grip would feel like on you.

“Done,” you said, flicking your used gloves into the wastebasket by your feet. Mirio flexes his fingers. Healed. “Y’know, after all these visits,” You raise an eyebrow, “I think you owe me.”

Mirio looks up from his hands to tilt his head at you.

“Tell me how you really get these injuries,” you grab one of his hands loosely and run your thumb over the freshly regenerated skin.

He wasn’t expecting that.

Mirio gapes at you like a fish out of water, like you’re Thirteen and you’ve sucked all of the air out of the room. He pulls himself from your grip to rest his hands in his lap. He’s uncomfortable, uneasy now. He’s liked this place, liked you because questions weren’t asked that he had to give real answers to. It’s not betrayal that Mirio feels, it’s more like loss. It’s the loss that comes with the realization that you can’t outrun everything you want forever. With all the training, all the work Mirio had put in, he thought he could.

“They’re self-inflicted. The bruising, the wound placements. It’s like you’re training yourself to death.”

“It’s not like that - I’m fine, I promise!” Mirio throws his hands up in a defensive motion. He’s summoning the sunlight, the optimism and charm that swooned UA and motivated him to keep working, keep training, to save a million people. He can feel it churning in his chest, but it’s been pressed so deep he’s grasping at the edges and they don’t want to meet his fingertips.

Mirio knew you never believed his excuses - you knew he knew that and you’d been pulled thin between wanting to show concern and ask what was up and respecting his privacy. But at the previous state of his knuckles, you couldn’t drag your feet any longer.

You watch him, face soft and stoic. You’re not coddling, but you’re not cold either. He realizes that you’re just simply waiting.

“I just train too hard,” he gives in, just a little. You raise your eyebrows a fraction and he continues. “I have a lot to make up for, so I tend to overdo it!” He laughs it off - the injuries are a joke, truly. They’re funny to him.

“You get more banged up than Midoriya,” you look at him over the clear frame of the glasses you seem to only wear at the clinic. “How does your training get you more banged up than the other heroes?”

“I’m not a hero,” he’s quick to say, and it stings more than it should. He was, should’ve been, should be.

Your face is soft again, and it’s an art you’ve mastered over time. You’re good at composing your features to appear passive and static. In your many hero encounters, pity is the quickest way to lose trust. So you watch Mirio, with his soft smile and now long hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He’s analyzing you just as you are him, and you keep your eyes from flicking to his knuckles when you respond with, “Okay.”

His stomach is churning, still sour with his words but he rubs his hands on his thighs. Why are they so sweaty?

In his distracted state, Mirio doesn’t notice you scribbling down something on a notecard shaped like an anatomical heart. You hand it to him, knocking him out of his trance.

Seven digits, followed by the letters 3G, and four more digits.

“What’s this?” he asks. Obviously the first line is your number, but you lost him with the rest.

“My number,” you aren’t looking at him. Instead you choose to refold the sleeves of your white coat as you continue, “and the passcode to get into my dorm building.”

Mirio does white. The passcode? Why would he need that?”

“I can’t be staying here late every night in case you show up.” You hated trudging back to your dorm on the nights he didn’t show, both eyelids and textbooks weighing you down. “Just stop by my dorm if it’s late like this.”

Mirio opens his mouth but you cut him off.

“Floor 5F, my name is on the door.”

He closes his mouth and smiles, nodding and bowing in thanks. He doesn’t trust his voice, not right now. You’re packing up your textbooks as he exits the clinic.

It doesn’t hit him until he gets back to the 3A dorms that he doesn’t know your name.

He beats himself up about it the whole night. He wishes he could go into Tamaki’s room to distract himself, to ask him about the person who’s basically taken over Recovery Girl’s mantle. Tamaki frequented the clinic as well - used it as an excuse to get out of the heroics lessons and sleep. He’d definitely know your name, unlike his golden counterpart who visited her frequently and never thought to ask.

Mirio tried to comfort himself by thinking that maybe you didn’t know his name either. You’d never asked. But then again, Mirio is (was?) part of UA’s Big Three. The aftermath of the Shie Hassaikai was all anyone talked about for weeks. You’d definitely have to know who he was. Mirio Togata, the kid who lost his quirk. Le Million, the hero who gave and lost everything. You went to UA yourself - there was no way.

He didn’t want to be that sob story to you. But he was constantly coming to you with injuries - split knuckles, a dislocated shoulder, a torn achilles. Maybe he wasn’t exactly that sob story, but he knew you pitied him regardless. Maybe that’s why you always stayed so late - you felt bad for him.

The thoughts makes Mirio uncomfortable.

And so much so that to make himself feel better, he adds your number to his phone. Typing in the numbers, he thinks about how he likes that your handwriting was shitty. Another little thing you let him see, let him learn about you. In lieu of a name, he makes your contact name the stethoscope emoji. He laughs to himself when he saves the contact and types out a message:

How late is too late?

He hesitates, but hits send. It delivers, and after fifteen minutes, Mirio is worried he confused one of your twos for a seven or vice versa. Or, maybe he should’ve introduced himself instead of just sending you a basic question that revealed his identity in no way whatsoever. In the eighteenth minute, you buzz back a response.

🩺

Why?

Might break a bone tomorrow.

It only takes eleven minutes for you to respond this time, and Mirio hates that he’s counting.

🩺

I’ll be sure to eat breakfast then.

No later than midnight, tho.

Okay!

Seven minutes this time. He wasn’t expecting a response.

🩺

You don’t need an injury to stop by, you know.

Mirio grins. A real one.

If you insist. Still might have a scratch or two, though. 😀

Two minutes. Mirio is oblivious to the fact that you are cringing hard at his emoji usage.

🩺

don’t be taking advantage of my quirk :(

You’re right… promise you will be compensated for your time. 👍

It’s immediate.

If it’s not edible, I don’t want it.

Mirio decides he might take it a little easy when he trains tomorrow.

[kayr0ss]

Corrective Lenses

[TOH, Lumity, Glasses, Established Relationship, the Library, Soft Fluff] AO3

Luz gets glasses and Amity likes how it looks on her a little too much. Luz is just happy to see her as she is.

--

The sight of it made Amity go through seven different emotions at once.

She wouldn’t be able to name them all because the only thought swimming in her silly, smitten head was Luz, and a charming pair of wire-framed glasses, and the way that her nose scrunched up now and again while she was trying to get used to the weight of them.

“They even got the little squiggles on the bark,” Luz whispered in wonder. It snapped Amity out of her daze, reorienting to her to here-and-now.Right. Bonesborough Library. Art Section. Luz was inspecting every nook and cranny with brand-new-eyes, so to speak. Eda had picked up on the fact that Luz squinted every time she had to read or watch something on her phone. A quick trip to a contact from the Healing Coven had confirmed her suspicions: Luz needed glasses.

Amity would never wish poor eyesight on anyone, but was it so bad to be thanking the Titan for treating to her to a view this good? Luz scrunched her face again. Then she adjusted the spectacles up the bridge of her nose.

Oh Titan, she really had it bad.

“I mean how do they even do that! They carved that into wood like, inversely.” Luz chattered on.

Amity looked at the print in question: it was the black-and-white image of a little stream with a tree hanging over it. The details were exquisite—every leaf was discernable on the branches, there was depth in the texture of the bark and shrubbery. The riverbank had a dusting of grass along the edges, with feathery blades that tapered upwards. Luz’s admiration was warranted: the fact that someone had enough dexterity and vision to carve this on a block of wood, backwards, before pressing it unto parchment for printing was an artistic wonder.

The art was great, but Amity needed to be honest: the best part of this little excursion was seeing Luz experience these details for the first time. She walked around the space with purpose, running her fingers against the aged stone bricks that lined the room. She took the time to look at the carved wooden borders of the walls, clearly lit by bright, warm lamps. Luz even looked up to admire the high-vaulted ceiling: there was a small gasp of awe (and Amity will never forget the sound of it). She was always an excitable girl, never staying still, always in motion. But this Luz was a little different. Her gaze lingered, hungry and ready to commit the smallest detail of every item in the display to memory.

It was a lovely thing to watch.

“And what are you looking at, Miss Blight?” Luz raised a suspicious eyebrow, turning around to face her.

Amity blushed, caught red-handed. She smiled despite the heat that reached the tip of her ears, threading her fingers with Luz’s and smiling. “Admiring the art.”

Luz flushed red. “C’mon. That’s not fair. How am I supposed to recover from that?”

“Am I not allowed to compliment my girlfriend?”

“When did you get so smooth?”

Amity chuckled nervously, confidence receding. “It’s taking every shred of self-control I have not to run away and scream behind the bookshelves.”

“Don’t.” Luz pouted. Oh no. Why was she pouting? It was making her stomach feel silly. “I’d miss you.”

Amity froze for all of two seconds—and then Luz was shooting her a shit-eating grin. She shoved her entire hand onto Luz’s face, pushing her away while doing her best to muffle the sputtering laughter that threatened to spill from her girlfriend while they goofed around in the library.

“Quiet!” Amity chided—but Luz knew it was an act from the smile on her face. “Library Zone.”

Luz relented, bringing her voice back down into a whisper. “Fine, fine. I don’t want to be the reason you lose your job here a second time.”

Amity narrowed her eyes. “Too soon.”

“But if I help you get it back—again—will I get another kiss?”

“If you survive whatever I’d put you through if you make me lose it, again.”

They giggled among themselves. But the moment passed and settled to a comfortable silence.

Luz was done admiring the art by now. Her eyes were found a new target: they wandering around Amity’s face. She almost wanted to shrink away in self-consciousness, but something about Luz felt safe. Amity stayed still, content with admiring how well the glasses complimented Luz’s profile.

“Your eyelashes are so pretty.” Luz whispered, so full of sincerity it made her chest hurt. “And you… you have freckles.”

Amity chuckled.

“I can see every strand of your hair!” Luz brought her hand up, brushing her fingers through Amity’s haphazardly cut bangs. “Your roots are showing.”

Her hair was something of a sore spot. It reminded of her everything she tried to be, and everything she decided to break away from. But the way that Luz was combing through it softly felt less like scrutiny and more like reverence.

“I think you’d look good in any color you’d pick for it.” She said it like it was the surest thing in the world. Luz traced her fingers along the edge of her ears, curiously inspecting her earrings—driving the butterflies in her stomach absolutely mad. Amity let her, though. Vulnerability didn’t feel so wrong when it was for Luz.

Then she brought her brown eyes back to Amity’s own. “Your eyes aren’t just gold,” she said in soft wonder. “They’ve got specks of brown, if you look close enough in the light.” Luz leaned in closer.

Amity doesn’t remember the last time that someone looked at her just as she was. It was a vivid realization: the idea that she didn’t have to try so hard anymore—that she didn’t have to prove anything to anyone just so she could be seen.

“I can see so clearly now!” Luz grinned at her, tucking a tuft of purple hair behind Amity’s ear.

“Yeah,” Amity smiled. She wondered if Luz even knew how much this meant to her. “Me too.”

-

fin

-

A/N: For veramoray. No beta we run into the fire screaming.

2 thoughts: it is not its easy to crush on a pretty girl with glasses (rather it very much is), secondly I am emotionally invested in Amity realizing that her worth is not tied to her utility and that people can love her just being herself thank u *goes to sleep* | also yes I will write glasses-themed fics for every ship i like

[thedevillionaire]

Illusionary

Cerberus, Kia, domestic bedroom snz scene with a little magic, little romance? Hmm, yeah, sounds like me. 😏 --- Wrapped in a full-length darkest burgundy dressing robe, feeling somewhat refreshed but still more than a little coldhazy, Cerberus emerges post-shower to the sight of Kia, changed from her earlier black velvet bodice and jeans into a burnished deep gold satin negligee, lying on her stomach across the bed, head resting on her hands, attention fixed on the Testing papers in front of her. He pauses at the threshold, leans against the door frame to simply look at her awhile, silently enraptured, a soft smile on his face.

:Just so you know, babe,: Mindsends Kia, keeping her eyes on the papers, :it’s not possible for you to enter a room and not be noticed.: She glances back over her shoulder at him and grins wickedly. “You’d be a terrible spy.”

Cerberus chuckles, walking over to settle beside her on the bed. “Hard to argue given the circumstances, I suppose.” He toys with her hair, looking down at the papers. “Which Level are you applying for?” A light sniffle, and he frowns slightly, rubs his nose against an irritation rising anew.

“6.” Kia sighs. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I can get that, but…I don’t know, I’m not…evenly skilled across the options or something.” She rolls over to sit up, cross-legged. “There’s a bunch of stuff I can do really well, and some other stuff I’m…just not very good at, I guess.” She gives him a rueful smile. “But I think if I maybe…”

“What is it you’re not sure of?” Cerberus reaches across her and picks up the papers, flicking through them as he moves to sit leaning back against the bedhead, rearranging the array of pillows and cushions to suit. Another sniffle, more sharply this time and he recognises the battle as lost, his focus dissolving captive to undeniable need, and he turns from Kia in surrender to an adversary already his conqueror many times over today. “HHAHTSSCCHU! Damn it, I swear Healing deal in placebos. Comple…ehh-HH ..completely…hh… Ahh-HEHTSSCH-uu!” He sniffles again and fixes Kia with a look conveying irrefutable vindication, raises an eyebrow. “*snf!*Hm? As evidenced. Completely ineffectual,” he states with authority, and takes several tissues from the box on the bedside. “Excuse me a mome… hh-HH... Oh, for f… HHAHTSSCCHU! Ah, gods. *SNF!* Pardon me, love.” He blows his nose in an attempt to stop any further irritation, at least in the short term, though he holds very little faith in that regard, and incinerates the tissues in a flashblaze of aetherfire.

“Bless you, sweetheart,” Kia says, gently strokes his forearm. “I’m fairly sure the meds have helped a bit, though,” she suggests. “Compared to earlier, at least.”

“Oh, well, yes, I’m sure I’ve had at least ten minutes respite here and there,” mutters Cerberus sardonically, though he concedes to his bonded’s wry smirk quickly enough, places a kiss on her forehead. “Ah, I’m sorry, darkling. It’s just that as a rule, I’m rather fond of breathing.” Resting back against the pillows once more, he sighs again, absently rubs his nose, and returns his attention to the papers, making a quiet hum of thought as he flicks through them, in consideration.

“Sweetheart?” Kia, curious, shuffles up along the bed a little more to kneel beside him, resting her head on his shoulder, trying to read what he was reading. “What are you doing?”

Cerberus points to the skillset of Illusion, listed as a subcategory within Hypnotics, several thick and emphatic lines scrawled beneath it. “This is underlined because…?”

Kia scoffed. “Because I suck at it,” she says, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I mean, I can do the basics, but…” She looks up at him, nestling into him, trailing absent patterns across his chest with her fingers. “It’s just…it’s like…you have to sort of direct what someone else sees, so it’s…putting your images into their eyes without actually seeingthrough their eyes, so you don’t know if it’s actually working, you just kind of have to hope for it, and I can’t figure out when it is working so then I get distracted and the whole thing pretty much falls apart.”

“It’s a skill Demonics covers as well.” Cerberus kisses the top of her head, draping an arm across her as he drops the papers in his lap.

Kia stares at him, taken aback. “You can do this?!”

“Well, I don’t use it widely, nor is it my forte, but…”

“Oh, oh, oh! Want to take my Test for me?” Kia gives him a playful entreating look. “Just, I don’t know, shapeshift or something. Is that a thing? You can do that, right? I’ll let you wear whatever you like. Oh my god, I bet you’d be super-hot as me.”

Cerberus collapses into laughter, and she laughs with him, her heart warming as it always does when he loses himself to delight, and particularly now, with him unwell. She repositions herself to settle beside him, kissing him tenderly as she does so, and picks up the papers in one hand, resting her other hand on his thigh. “Alright, alright, okay, I know. I’ll take my own stupid Test. It’s mostly Vampirism specific, anyway. But still…” A devilish grin darts across her face and she bats her eyelashes at him with exaggerated flirtation. :Super-hot.:

Smiling, Cerberus looks down and shakes his head in an ill-advised move that brings about yet another stark reminder of the throbbing sinus headache he’s only just managed to almost forget. He winces slightly and does his best to ignore it. Claiming the honeyed tea from the bedside tray, he reheats it with a touch, and takes a sip. “Well, darkling,” he says, “perhaps not quite that, um…absolute, but I certainly owe you any favours I can offer at this point, so if you’ll allow me—” He kisses her forehead. “—to revisit a request that you once asked of me… Drop your Protect.”

Kia’s eyes widen and she looks up at him, confused, curious. “Why? Do you even need me to?”

“No, love, technically I don’t. But I’d prefer to have your consent, if you’ll give it.”

“For what? I mean, sure, of course, babe, but…”

And then Kia loses her words, struck voiceless, astonished, and reaches her hand out to feel for a bed that is no longer there, finding instead only the soft moss and verdure of a rainforest glade, the gentle sensation of vivid greenery under her touch; lush, thick and rampant plantlife above her, beneath her, beside her, in sensory undeniability. She turns rapidly, looking everywhere around her, unable to comprehend what’s happening even as the very atmosphere changes, the dark, thick, wet scent of fernery, pines, rich soils, and peat surrounding her, immersive and entirely real, solid, incontrovertible. The sky darkens to gunmetal greyblue, stormclouded and windswept, and the crash of distant thunder seems to vibrate the air itself. Sky? But there can’t be sky. Where’s the…where’s the ceiling? What…

“Honey?” she asks, questioning, her own voice feeling like a foreignness, seeking her love who isn’t where he had been mere seconds ago, and she runs her hand along the bark of a nearby tree, one of several, the texture rough and actual, definite. She pushes it, pushes harder; it does not yield. The thunder echoes again, muted but resonant, a certainty, and the heavy cloudcover darkens with it, bringing further shadow to the dell. Shifting her position and reaching for familiarity does nothing to transform the verdant rolling hills back into the furniture she knows so well – oak and cast iron and ornate fabric lost to, consumed by, this wilderness she’s breathing. The landscape stretches out endless and impossibly vast; bedroom walls stay invisible, dissolved. There are no hard angles. No corners. Thunder once more but softer, as if moving away. Wisps of phosphorescence dartdance across thickets and brush, phantasmal. She curls her toes against some lichen at her feet.

:Know this, love,: Cerberus Mindsends almost as if in echo, in memory, to the bone, and Kia spins around to face him, seated beside her but on the opposite side to where she last saw him, dressed as if for a fog-covered moorside in a thick cable-knit sweater and fleecelined suede coat, which she knows is not possible this is not possible it cannot be possible how can he do this how can anyone oh my god definitely not reality but still the only tangible perception she can make, and she isn’t at all sure she can speak to him and she tries to see what she knows to be real, where she knows she must be sitting, but she simply can’t, and she plucks a honeysuckle flower off a nearby creeping vine that has to be fictitious and yet it somehow isn’t, marvelling as she turns it over in her hands, touching its petals, breathing its sweet perfume.

“You’re extraordinary,” she whispers, tears in her eyes.

:Close your eyes a moment, darkling, and immerse. Remember this. Understand this.:

And feeling the reassuring touch of his hand on hers, she closes her eyes as requested, reopening them after just a brief time to see again the bedroom that she’d logically known she’d never left, only then consciously recognising that he could not have taken her hand in that way from where she’d thought she’d seen him last, and she gazes up at him, open-mouthed in astonishment, for the shortest of moments before reaching up to trace her fingers along the contours of his face, almost as if to confirm his existence. “How are you even…” she murmurs in wonder, before calling herself back to reality somewhat.

She takes a moment to rebalance, breathes deeply, recentering. “Okay.” She exhales slowly. “Alright. Okay, that was…wow, that was completely amazing and… I love you but that was… If that’s what I’m meant to do… I mean, I could feel it. I held a flower. Fuck, babe. I have enough trouble even getting an image to form. A single image. You…you made a world. There’s no way I can do that.”

“You most certainly can, love,” counters Cerberus, “and, in fact, will. Should bring you up to a Level 8 grading, I’d imagine.” He presses his index finger then the back of his hand against his nose, frowning a little at a building itch, sniffling. “Excuse me. You just, um…recall the memory, enter in and redirect, adjusting for context. You’ll only be working with mortal capacity for resistance, also, if I recall the Vampirism protocol for this sort of thing correctly, so it sh…should be…” His breath hitches, the returning urgency stealing his sentence; he excuses himself with haste and turns from Kia, succumbing desperate, heavy, absolute. “AhhHEHTSSCHuu!”

“Bless you!”

He raises an index finger and gives the briefest shake of his head, brow creased, and frozen in thrall to the crescendo of oncoming need; he takes an imposed moment, expectant, and another, inhaling shallow scissored twice and over, then deep, deeper still.

And again.

“hh-HH… Hh-TSSCHhuu!”

And oh he does not want to concede, but again.

“HMPTch! HHKTchu!” His attempt at resistance proves no contest against the still insistent, overwhelming tickle, and he gives over completely this time, abandoning any further fight. “Hh-TSSCH-uu! ah-hh… AHHTSSCHUU! Ah, gods.”

Kia’s own breath comes a touch uncertain too as she purrs a honeytoned, “Bless you, sweetheart.”

Cerberus exhales tiredly, pushes silken ebony disorder back from his face with one hand while claiming several tissues with the other. “Thanks, love,” he murmurs, adding a sotto voce curse or two about the entire situation. “Pardon me.” He blows his nose, a little more gingerly now, sniffles again and sighs, repeats the process. Ridiculous.

A thought suddenly occurs to Kia that piques her interest far too much to not to ask it. “So, um…what would have happened if you’d sneezed during that whole…you know, ‘the bedroom is a forest now’ performance?”

Cerberus wipes his nose a final time before vaporising the latest used tissue collection. He chuckles quietly, clears his throat. “You’d best tell me, I think.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t, though. I would have…” Kia breaks off, examines her beloved’s expression with wary sidelong glance, considering whether there was any chance of...

No. With a faint scoff, she rejects the possibility, positive, confident. “No, you did not. There’s no way I don’t hear that.”

“If you say so, love.”

She frowns. “You’re right here. I am next to you in the bed.”

“Yes, it’s wonderful.” He flashes her a candid, disarming smile. “My favourite thing.”

Laughing, Kia pushes him in play. “Well, mine too, sweetheart, but that’s not what I meant and you know it,” she says before returning to her point. “You did not sneeze during that, though. No way. It just isn’t… Nope. You’re teasing me.”

“Well.” Cerberus once again brings newly steaming heat to the cup of tea with a touch, the very slightest of smiles crossing his face. “I admit that thunder is rather a cliché, but I didn’t have a great deal of time to consider intricacy of plot.”

“You di… But…” Kia stares at him in complete bafflement. “How?!”

“Illusion, darkling.” He stretches an idle arm across her shoulders, presses a kiss to her temple. “This is how it works.”

“Are you serious?!” Kia shakes her head in amazement. “God, do I even know what reality is?!” She gives a half laugh of incredulity, simultaneously astounded and utterly unsurprised at the variety of skills her beloved seems able to just call to command at will. “Okay, okay, and…so now because you…set me up, is that right, I can just, what, do that now? Oh. Ohh, whoa now, wait a second. Hang on.” She gives him a sly look, comprehension dawning. “Did you just do my homework for me?”

Cerberus laughs softly, a little darkly. “Consider it a crash course. Anyway, I know that you are in fact highly skilled in…not unrelated areas. I certainly know you can direct events. Your truly…outstanding talent with Immerse and Possess proves it. I suspect you just weren’t sure where to begin in this case.” He gives her a gentle smile. “You have an advantage, love. You should use it.”

Kia smiles back. “Oh, I’ll use you alright. I mean, use it.” She winks, laughing again. “I liked your mountain man look, by the way. Do you even have a cable-knit sweater?"

Cerberus raises an eyebrow. "What? You dressed me in a sweater?"

“I dressed you? What?"

“My direction only goes so far, darkling. Illusion involves a great deal of obfuscation, but it’s not a complete taking over. Some parts of it are nothing more than guidance, suggestions. And certain aspects are – I assure you – entirely of your own creation." He looks at her in nonplussed bemusement. “Really? Cable knit?”

“Navy blue, with a tan suede jacket,” Kia specifies with haughty precision before dissolving into laughter anew and doubly at the expression on his face. "I guess that’s what you get for setting everything in a forest. Come on, I was thematically accurate, at least.” She wipes away tears of laughter before meeting his gaze with conviction, points at him as if delivering an unarguable truth. “You looked hot as fuck, incidentally."

“I feel I’ve learnt something entirely new about you tonight,” Cerberus remarks, smiling briefly at her before suddenly turning away again, a couplet of fierce, unstoppable sneezes almost catching him unprepared absolutely, and he apologises with haste. “Hh-TSSCHH-uu! Ah-TSSCHH-uu! Goddamn it. *snf!* I have had more than entirely enough of this.” He sharply pulls another pair of tissues from the box, blows his nose again, immolates them afterwards with a burst of flame rather more emphatic than required.

“Aw, bless you, hon.” Kia tuts softly, strokes his hair back from his eyes, moves to sit across his lap, facing him. She traces a finely manicured nail down his neck, across his shoulder. “You know,” she nearwhispers, her tone softly teasing, “it wouldn’t kill you to wear a sweater once in a while.”

“I’m really not…”

Kia leans closer, purrs as if sharing the wickedest of secrets. “Denim jeans too.”

:Gods, love, who are you?: Cerberus Mindsends in shadowsnarl as he wraps a strong arm around his bonded and draws them together, claiming her mouth and kissing her with fire palpable.

:You know me, sweetheart.: With deft touch and feline grace, slightest shrug, Kia allows her negligee to smoothly fall away, returning her beloved’s kiss perfervid, wanting, infusing her reciprocal Mindsend with the same.

:Your favourite thing.:

----

[ruewrites]

Hii! so i really love Dialuci and i wanted to request a fic about them. I like the 5 things + 1 thing trope but i saw that u already have a fic like that, so if you dont wanna use i understand, i just want a cute Dialuci fic bc they are adorable 💖

5 Times Diavolo Felt a Little Less Alone

AO3

Ship: Diavolo/Lucifer

Word Count: 2005

Warnings: None

A/N: Hi Anon! I’m always down for 5+1 requests! I hope you like this! I’m still getting used to writing for this ship, but I had fun!

1

Diavolo’s fingers danced along the castle walls as he gazed at the fallen Morning Star. He was more than the prince could ever wish for, to ever hope for, and he was standing right there. Well, sitting. He’d met Lucifer before, but he’d never seen him this worn. It was understandable, but still.

Gripping his nerves, Diavolo decided to approach him once more. Lucifer’s eyes swept up towards the movement and the Prince suddenly was all too aware of his heart pounding away in his chest. 

“May I take this seat?” he asked.

Lucifer was silent for a moment, then he nodded, “I suppose you can.”

He was a bit more eager than he’d like to admit at the ‘okay’. He wanted to turn the Devildom into a home for Lucifer and his brothers, to make them all feel comfortable. He wanted them to want to stay. 

Lucifer regarded him oddly, almost as if he couldn’t make out Diavolo’s intentions. Which was fair by all means. Perhaps he wasn’t setting the most appropriate of moods, but he found himself giddy at the mere thought of sitting close to the Morning Star. Even if the circumstances that brought them together once more were grim, he was still happy that he got to see him again. 

“Can I get you some tea?”

He wasn’t sure if he wanted something to calm Lucifer or his own nerves. He’d have Barbatos bring every type out that he could find. He wanted to give Lucifer the widest variety of options that he could. He wanted to give Lucifer anything that he could.

“I suppose that would be nice,” Lucifer seemed hesitant. It was understandable of course, but Diavolo was already summoning Barbatos. He was going to make the Devildom home for Lucifer. 

***

2

Diavolo loved parties. They filled the castle up with people and laughter and music. Things Diavolo wished there had been more of as he was growing up. Even so, sometimes the parties still felt lonely. Others wouldn’t address him the same way they addressed each other. It made sense, he was the Devildom’s prince. They had to treat him with respect. 

He could act like one of them.

But he couldn’t be one of them.

His fingers tightened around his glass. 

“Lord Diavolo, are you quite alright?” Lucifer was staring at him. Lucifer’s attention was on him. 

He forced a laugh and put his hand on his shoulder, “Of course! Why would I be anything other than okay?

Lucifer’s brow furrowed and his lip twitched. He didn’t believe a word that had just come out of Diavolo’s mouth. Lucifer was the eldest of his brothers and the one that kept them in line, he knew when he was being lied to.

But before he could get a word out, Diavolo was already spewing more words at him. “I mean, just look at everyone out there having a grand time! There’s nothing to be disappointed about when there’s so many smiling faces,” he said, “In fact, shouldn’t you be out there enjoying yourself too?”

Getting Diavolo to try to go back to their previous discussion would be like taking Cerberus to the vet. So Lucifer played along, for now.

“I don’t believe I will, I have a perfect vantage point of my brothers from here.”

“Vantage-?”

Diavolo glanced out to where Lucifer was nodding. The rest of the six were all in perfect view with a slight turn of the head. He shouldn’t be surprised, Lucifer always had to make sure his brothers were on his best behavior. Well, Diavolo didn’t necessarily think that Lucifer had to per say, it was something he just did. 

“So if it’s quite alright with you, I think I’m content on staying right here.”

For the first time that night, Diavolo felt himself relax and offer a genuine smile, “Of course.”

***

3

He knew it was late, but come on. Diavolo tapped the back of his D.D.D. restlessly as he listened to the line ring. Sure he could send a text, but he just wanted to hear someone else’s voice for a moment. Just a moment. Then he would be content.

He was about to hang up and redial again when a tired voice came  up on the other end of the line. 

“Diavolo? Do you have any idea what time it is?” 

Part of him felt bad when he heard Lucifer yawn on the other end of the line, but his heart also leapt at the sound of his voice. Lucifer had a strange affect on him, and Diavolo was addicted to the sensation. It filled a void that rested deep within him, and he didn’t want that space to ever be vacant again. 

“Ah, I apologize Lucifer. I just had something I wanted to tell you,” he stopped. Well, that phrase wasn’t completely a lie. He was sorry, but he didn’t have anything to say. “But it all seems to be slipping my mind right now.”

Silence flooded the other end of the line. A sigh entered his ear. “Diavolo- Send me a text when you remember then. You can always tell me to-”

“Wait.”

He could feel Lucifer hesitate. He could practically see the way his eyebrow raised, how his arms would fold if he wasn’t holding his D.D.D.  He could feel the way he analyzed him, looking for the smallest bit of truth, the tiniest give away in his being. His words died at his lips, his normal forms of begging and pleading refused to come out. 

He didn’t want to be alone.

Not right now.

Not ever.

“Please don’t go.”

His voice came out so small. It didn’t fit him. Normally his presence was powerful and captivating, but not he felt like the smallest breeze could blow him away. The ticking of his clock started to flood his mind, drawing out any other possible thought he could have had. 

Time stretched out in odd ways Diavolo couldn’t comprehend, and there was only one thing that brought him back.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stay on the line, just don’t mind if you hear snoring. Now, what do you want to tell me?”

***

4

“Oh Lucifer! Look at this!”

Humans had such odd little things, but they were also incredibly dear. Who would have thought about making tiny clothes for animals? Adorable! 

Diavolo held up a small yellow raincoat and pushed it  into Lucifer’s face, “You should see if you can get a big one for Cerberus.

“Cerberus will be fine without,” yet his eyes lingered on the small outfit for a moment too long. A smile cracked at his lips, “I do believe I know a certain chihuahua it might fit though.”

Lucifer chuckled to himself as Diavolo continued to gaze at the little treasures that decorated the walls. “Oh they even have little rain boots! It’s a shame they don’t have anything bigger. Human dogs are just so tiny.  And they don’t have nearly enough heads. They’re still just as lovable though.”

His hands moved to the bones and a frown spread across his face, “These are hardly fit for a dog.”

“On that front I agree with you. Not bloody enough.”

“Not big enough.”

“And they hardly look study.”

“It would barely function as a toothpick!”

“And no meat either.”

“It’s sad really.”

“Trully.”

The human world was different from the Devildom, very different. Diavolo could honestly say he’d never experienced something quite like it before. Everytime he thought he had it figured out something new popped out from around the corner. What made the entire thing even more wonderful was having someone to share it with.

He peered at Lucifer from the corner of his eye. Before he knew what was happening, the warmth of Lucifer's lower back was pressed against his hand. Lucifer stiffened ever so slightly. Then his muscles relieved themselves of their tension.

The Demon Prince had someone to share his experiences with.

***

5

This was an ethereal experience. It wasn’t something he could take lightly. This was a sign of trust. This was so much bigger than him, and Diavolo wasn’t about to take it lightly. Lucifer’s naked back was to him, his blackened wings stretched out before him. Diavolo felt as if he could see every breath the Morning Star took, every heartbeat drowned out the ticking of the clock. 

“Are you sure?” Diavolo wanted to give him one last chance to back out. This was something sacred and intimate, something that he knew must have Lucifer on edge. 

Lucifer’s head nodded ever so slightly, “Just remember what I told you.”

Diavolo swore he could feel his hands shaking, anxiety curled around his stomach like a serpent the closer he came to the majestic sight before him. Then the soft silky texture brushed against his finger tips. He couldn’t help but admire them as he ran his fingers along their gradient. 

Lucifer trusted him with this.

Lucifer wanted him to do this.

He could have teared up in that moment, He promised himself that he would forever hold this specific moment close to his heart.

Of course Lucifer’s wings wouldn’t preen themselves. “Tell me if I do anything wrong.”

Perhaps he’d gotten too close to Lucifer’s ear, maybe his breath had been a little too hot, maybe he shouldn’t have gazed at Lucifer’s reddening cheeks as long as he did. But he wouldn’t change it for the world. His right hand man trusted him. A man as wonderful and beautiful and radiant and intelligent as Lucifer trusted him. Diavolo was allowed into his life.

The room was dark, quiet, and safe. 

Diavolo never wanted to share anything this intimate with anyone else.

***

+1

The first thing Diavolo registered was how warm everything around him was and the fire softly crackling against the wall. Slowly his eyes peeled open and he sat up. After taking in his surroundings, he came to realize that  he’d fallen asleep at his desk. Something quite unusual for him. He grabbed at the blanket around his shoulders as questions filled his brain.

“This is quite the role reversal isn’t it?”

Ah. Lucifer. 

Diavolo hadn’t even noticed him.

A kiss was pressed against his cheek and a cup was set down onto the table. Spices immediately filled all of Diavolo’s senses flooding every corner of his head. 

“Usually you’re the one doing things for me when I’ve been at my desk for too long, and now here we are.”

Diavolo brought the cup to his lips, enjoying the warmth against his skin, “It took so much for you to allow me to spoil you.”

“Not everyone in the world is as genuine as you Diavolo, and affection isn’t something I’ve been particularly used to.” 

Lucifer’s hands soared over the desk as he started to organize various papers and documents. Honestly, at this point Lucifer was probably almost as skilled as Barbatos when it came to organizing Diavolo’s desk. Diavolo liked watching him work, it almost reminded him of a dance. Watching Lucifer was always a wonderful time, it was a treat. Perhaps domestic was the correct word.

“I believe you’ve told  me before that there’s more comfortable places to relax than a desk.”

“Like plush chairs by the fireplace?”

“I do believe you mentioned those, yes,” Lucifer took his hand and helped him up, “Join me?”

Diavolo had gotten a taste of company all those years ago, and now he constantly lived in company. His old self would be envious of what he had now. As long as he had Lucifer he wouldn’t be lonely, he’d have warm nights and bright days. There would always be a reason to make a second cup of tea or to bring two plates to the study. His things would sit next to Lucifer’s, they could have long conversations or comforting silence, and the chair next to him would never be empty. 

Finally Diavolo had someone to share his life with.

Finally life wouldn’t be lonely anymore.