#it's been ridiculous from the jump i'm delighted

[happyyyandcrazyyy]

matching bracelets (kaz brekker x reader)

summary: when (y/n) buys kaz a bracelet she does so as a joke, she knows he’ll never actually wear it. imagine her surprise when she sees it dangling around his wrist.

based on the prompt: person A gets person B a friendship bracelet, expecting person B to never wear it, but when it’s given to them person B puts it on and is rarely seen with it off.

warnings: mentions of blood and torture (not explicit, briefly mentioned)

kaz taglist: @the-tpd-bau @ellievickstar @thestudiouswanderer | soc taglist: @ancientbeing10 (if you want to be added or removed from the taglist just dm me!)

a/n: guess who's back after a year of being mia!! i've been working on a lot of fics, but inspiration just hasn't been there, so i'm going slow, i don't like to force myself to write if i don't feel like it. anywaysss, i hope you enjoy this one! it was such a fun ride to write :)

Jesper opens the door with a loud bang, strutting into the Slat with his head held high and a slight jump in his step. He’s whistling good-naturedly, his left hand twirling a pistol and his right hand holding a rumpled piece of paper.

(Y/N)’s right hand— which had immediately reached for the pocket knife in her boot at the tumultuous noise— retreats back to her side. She relaxes, letting her shoulders sag and briefly looking down to make the final correction on a contract Kaz had her look over, left hand holding the pen and swiftly moving over the paper.

Jesper makes his way towards her, still whistling. She follows him from the corner of her eye, a slight smirk taking over her features. He’s in a good mood, the kind of mood he’s only ever in when the Gods are in his favor and he manages to miraculously not gamble away all his money. It’s not something that happens often.

“Did you win some?” she asks, already knowing the answer but enjoying the way the Sharpshooter preens under the attention. Jesper, very much in character and to (Y/N)’s delight, twirls around and does a ridiculous dance before taking a small bow.

“Baby, I won a whole lot.”

She huffs out a laugh, leaning back as she watches him place the pistol in its respective holster before plopping down on the chair by her right side and tossing her a small bag.

(Y/N) catches it smoothly, reflexes as sharp as always.

She doesn’t need to open the sack to know there’s kruge in there; the sound of coins jiggling against each other is a dead giveaway.

Jesper winks, a teasing smile on his lips. He tips his chair back, feet on top of the table, “Because you’re my favorite.”

It’s really because he owes her more kruge than he’ll ever be able to repay, but (Y/N) plays along. She’s never cared much about money, anyways.

“You sure do know how to charm a lady,” she smirks.

“I’m good at charming gents, too.”

“Versatile.”

“You know me.”

(Y/N) smiles, softer around the edges this time, something reserved only for her closest friends. She’s about to being correcting another contact— she has twelve to go through, all because she’d been bored and had decided annoying Kaz would be a great way to spend her time, he obviously hadn’t agreed —when Jesper slides over the piece of paper he’d been holding in his right hand. In the time he’d made his way towards her he’d somehow managed to crumple it completely.

She takes it, half curious, half willing to do anything to procrastinate revising and correcting those stupid documents.

“Brought this for you, too. I’ve got the feeling you’re going to enjoy this much more than the money.”

Her eyebrows furrow with curiosity as she slowly opens up the paper.

Ink contrasts the yellowish hue of the paper. Her own face greets her, drawn by hand, but fairly accurate.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N)

Wanted dead or alive.

1,000 kruge.

She can’t help the snicker that falls from her lips

Jesper is right. This is better, much better.

“Can’t believe it’s only a thousand this time,” she huffs, a small pout on her lips. “I must be losing my touch.”

Jesper snorts at that.

(Because she hasn’t lost her touch, not even a little, and they both know it. Just yesterday she’d managed to get vital information out of a Black Tip member with a single touch and a minimal amount of bloodshed. Three days before that she’d disposed of a rival gang member who’d been speaking too freely and she’d made sure his body would never be found. Two weeks prior to that Kaz had sent her to steal a miniature stature and she’d done it without a hitch, forging an identical copy in less than five days. No, she still very much has it.)

“I might have to go overboard next time,” she muses quietly to herself, “do something that will raise the bounty to at least two thousand five hundred.”

She traces the outline of her name, biting down a smile when Jesper snorts.

“You’re insane,” the Sharpshooter deadpans, the fondness in his tone almost tangible.

(Y/N) smiles wickedly at him, “So they say.”

Marbles is what they’ve nicknamed her around the Barrel. They say she’s lost them all. And it must be true, she must be out of her mind, because having a bounty on your head in Ketterdam is nothing less than a death sentence. It means having the most ruthless assassins coming after you, all looking for a way to make fast money. It’s living with the constant fear of someone sneaking up on you and slicing your throat, of having your food poisoned, of being choked to death in your sleep, of having your closest friends betray you as a means to survive. But to (Y/N), who has been part of the city’s underworld since before being able to formulate words, who has had any sort of ability to feel fear beaten out of her, this is nothing but one of the most amazing sources of entertainment. It keeps her on her toes, brings an adrenaline rush that does not compare to anything else. She must be crazy because any sane person would be paralyzed in fear, running for their lives, and yet all she can feel is the comforting thrill of being in mortal danger. (And, yes, it is comforting. She was raised to be a weapon, trained to withstand any form of torture; having Death peering over her shoulder is something she’s comfortable with, something she’s used to, something that soothes her). Besides, even if she wasn’t deadly confident in her own abilities (which she very much is), and even if she was able to feel terror overtaking her limbs (which she doesn’t think she’ll ever feel again), the title she holds would be enough to keep her relatively safe; she is Kaz’s right hand, and no one dares touch something that belongs to Dirtyhands.

(Y/N) stares at the poster for a little while longer— they got her nose wrong, made it too pointy —before smirking to herself. She knows how this will all go down, has seen it played out a few dozen times before (this is a regular occurrence, after all, a bounty is placed on her head every couple of months, whenever she loses her temper and murders someone who was deemed untouchable, or steals something much too valuable for her blood-stained hands). So, yes, she knows how this will go; the bounty will stay up for a couple of weeks, long enough for a few to dare try to kill her, and then it’ll be removed by whoever placed it once they realize it’s futile, once they see how everyone who even dares breathe too close to her winds up dead. She hopes the assassination attempts are entertaining, she hopes whoever dares come after her head gives her a good fight, if only to keep things interesting. It’s been a while since she’s had some unrestrained fun.

(Kaz keeps her on a tight rein, knows better than to let her run around freely. To say things can get out of hand when she’s left to her own devices would be an understatement.)

“Again?”

The voice comes from behind her, and (Y/N) doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, she heard his steps since before he even walked into the room. (It’s easy to know when it’s Kaz, he subconsciously places more weight on his left leg to keep the right one from aching, it makes his footsteps distinctive.) Still, she angles her head to meet his eyes. He’s leaning over her chair, cold eyes watching the bounty poster with disdain.

He’s never said it but (Y/N) knows that he doesn’t appreciate her life being imperiled. She is, in a way, an extension of him, and therefore any threats to her he sees as direct threats to him. Dirtyhands doesn’t take it well to being threatened.

“It’s okay, boss,” Jesper calls out. He’s still tipping his chair back, now playing with his guns. (Y/N) is kind of tempted to lean forward and kick one of the chair’s wooden legs, just to watch him struggle, possibly even fall. But Jesper’s known her long enough to realize when she’s on the verge of becoming a nuisance because his eyes narrow playfully and he lets the chair’s weight drop forward, “I wouldn’t worry too much.”

From the corner of her eye, (Y/N) can see the way Kaz’s face morphs. It’s almost indistinguishable, but she notices it. She thinks she would be able to spot the most minimal change in Kaz, she’s known him long enough for that. (Y/N) watches in amusement as he opens his mouth, no doubt to argue that he isn’t worrying at all, because Gods forbid he ever outwardly cared about anyone, but Jesper beats him to the punch and keeps going, “Heard some of Pekka’s Lions talking ‘bout how they’re not even going to try to come after her this time.”

“How boring,” she mutters to herself in disappointment, reaching for her glass of whisky. She’d meant for the comment to go unheard but Jesper’s snicker tells her that she wasn’t successful.

She takes a chug as Jesper points an accusatory finger at her and smirks, “That’s all on you, Marbles.”

At her bewildered look, he elaborates, “Two of them said something about not wanting to meet the same fate as the Razorgull guy from a couple of months ago—” (Y/N) smirks at that. The guy had deserved it. He hadn’t just tried to kill her, but also grope her. Murder she could understand, respect even, but touching someone else without their consent? No, she drew the line there. She’d had him swallow his own testicles; it’d seemed fitting enough. “—and the other one said that even if you hadn’t done that, he wouldn’t come close, not with you being Kaz’s right hand,” Jesper pauses for a second, a smug smile appearing on his lips, “and his best friend.”

Their reaction is instantaneous; Kaz goes rigid at the words and a smirk takes over (Y/N)’s features.

Oh, if the night didn’t just suddenly get better.

She glances up at her best friend, only to find him already glaring daggers at Jesper, who shrugs helplessly and innocently says, “Just telling it like I heard it, boss.” The flicker of amusement in his eyes reveals that he’s very much aware of just how much ammunition he’s provided (Y/N) with.

(Y/N)’s smirk becomes wider and gains a teasing edge when Kaz looks down to meet her eyes. His eyes harden, explicitly telling her to not utter a single word. Sadly for him, she has never been one to follow the rules, and Kaz must notice she’s not about to obey because his face morphs slightly, just enough to show the most minimum amount of discomfort. He cringes just the tiniest bit, bracing himself.

He knows her too well.

“You hear that?” she asks him, tone light and filled with amusement, “We’re best friends!”

“We are not,” Kaz tenses his jaw as he replies. He backs away from her, as if creating physical space between them will somehow stop the words from leaving her mouth and making their way towards him. As if distance could make her less of an bother.

(Y/N) fake gasps, clutching the skin over her heart in the most dramatic manner, “You wound me deeply, Kazzy.”

Jesper snorts, coughing to try to drown the laughter. She might be the only one who doesn’t get a knife to the jugular when calling him that.

Kaz’s eyes snap toward the Sharpshooter and the look must be deadly because Jesper quiets down immediately and tries his best to evade the boss’s glare. Kaz’s gaze then shifts towards (Y/N) and she perks up at the way his eyes harden even further in annoyance. He’s told her a million times to drop that ‘ridiculously stupid’ nickname and she’s decided she never will, not when it drives him to this point of exasperation.

(She’s a thrill chaser, you see. That’s what happens when you’ve seen just about everything and lived twice as much; few things get your heart pumping. And getting on Kaz’s nerves? That’s always exciting. (Y/N) never knows what to expect of him. The Bastard of the Barrel is unpredictable in a way that’s just delightful.)

“If you call me that one more time—”

“What are you gonna do? You can’t possibly try to hurt me. Best friends don’t do that to each other,” she mocks.

His eyebrow twitches, her grin stretches.

Oh, she’s going to have a field day with this one.

It’s obvious that Kaz knows he’s not winning this discussion because he walks forward, snatches the revised contracts and makes his way back to where he came from.

“Get those done before tomorrow afternoon.”

Boring. She was expecting more banter.

(Y/N) turns around to watch him leave, unable to stop herself from throwing a sarcastic, “Sure thing, bestie.” She does her best to sweeten the last word in a way that she knows will infuriate Kaz.

He freezes.

Bingo.

Even from afar, (Y/N) can see the way he tightens the grip on his cane. She’s thoroughly disappointed when he doesn’t throw a dagger her way. That would’ve been exciting. He takes another route, one she should’ve seen coming.

“I’ve got seven more files that need to be corrected. Collect them when you’re done with those.”

The corner of her lips tugs upwards slightly. There’s something thrilling about playing this game with Kaz, of seeing how much one of them can push before the other yields. He’s skilled and she enjoys the competition.

She ignores his order, “Goodnight, Kazzy.”

He slams the door on his way out, the only visible sign that she managed to get on his nerves. That’s mildly entertaining. Causing even the slightest slip of Kaz’s control over his temper is a success in her books.

“You’re out of your mind,” Jesper informs her.

She raises her glass of whisky at him and winks.

And that’s how it begins, as a joke. (Y/N) refers to Kaz as her best friend on every given chance. His reactions never disappoint.

There’s a lot of death threats;

(“Don’t mind him, bestie here is always grumpy.”

Clenched jaw, an exasperated sigh. “I will murder you.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Kazzy.”

There’s a knife thrown her way. (Y/N) catches it with ease, whistling good-naturedly. She smirks when she catches the look of annoyance in Kaz’s face.)

and a lot of not so kind words thrown her way.

(“I get special best friend privileges, right?”

“You get tolerated,” Kaz mutters, “barely.”

“That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me. Now tell me you love me.”

There’s that Brekker glare, one that would send anyone to an early grave. (Y/N) just smiles sweetly.

“Get out.”

“Whatever makes you happy, best friend.”

She cackles as she closes the door behind her, the curses Kaz is sending her way loud enough for her to hear.)

All in all, (Y/N) is as happy as can be. Having the time of her life, really. It’s not often that she finds something that makes Kaz fume. He plays the game too, of course. He has her going over financial documents and legal contracts on her free time, knowing just how much she hates the bureaucracy, and he gives her the household chores she despises the most. Still, (Y/N) doesn’t complain. She does everything with a smug smile on her face. The annoyance that flashes through Kaz’s face makes it all worth it.

The bracelet isn’t something she plans for, it really isn’t, but the Saints place the opportunity right in front of her and who is she but a mere mortal that must obey the signs evidently laid by otherworldly deities (or whatever bullshit those religious fanatics preach).

(Y/N) inspects the wristlets in her hand. They’re black and rough, made of broken-down nets that fishermen dispose of near the pier when the material has worn down beyond repair and is no longer useful. The little girl who had sold it to her couldn’t have been older than seven, and yet the design was more than decent. (Y/N) had offered three kruge for it, much more than it was worth. The child had looked delighted, had thanked her profusely as she’d placed the coins inside her worn-down shoes.

Oh, (Y/N) cannot wait to see Kaz’s face.

“What’s that?” Jesper asks as she meets up with him, eying the bracelets with a gleam of interest. He twirls his guns absentmindedly, missing the way some of the fishermen glance at him with distrust.

“Oh, you know, just some matching bracelets for me and my best friend.”

Jesper snickers, shaking his head and proceeding to let out a low whistle.

“This might be his breaking point.”

“Wouldn’t that be delightful.”

“You’re insane, Marbles.”

She gives him a wicked smile accompanied by a wink. She’s about to retort when she catches sight of a shadow on the corner of her eye. She recognizes it immediately as her target. Shopping, as fun as it had been, wasn’t the reason she and Jesper were waiting by the pier. They’ve got orders. She has people to torture and interrogate and dispose of— preferably in a quiet manner —and Jesper is Kaz’s way of making sure she’s got her back covered. (Not that she needs backup, but whatever, she has tried arguing with Kaz about it and it’s the one thing he won’t relent on, the one matter she’s accepted she won't ever win. Kaz doesn't play when it comes to her safety.).

“If you’re kind enough to hold these for me,” she places the bracelets on Jesper’s unoccupied hand, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

They make it back to the Slat before sunrise. (Y/N) had been quick and efficient, as she always was, and Jesper had been a quiet and solid shadow, as he always was.

“I assume it all went according to plan,” the Bastard asks when he hears their steps coming into his office. It’s late, or rather extremely early in the morning, and yet (Y/N) isn’t surprised by Kaz’s presence. He rarely sleeps.

“It went without a hitch, boss,” Jesper responds, resting against the doorframe.

(Y/N) hesitates for a split second, her memory providing a brief flashback to the interrogation she’d done, to three little words the man had let slip out: they’re coming for you.

A warning or maybe a promise.

Thrilling, either way. It wasn’t often that she was verbally threatened.

At the time, she’d dismissed the words, too filled with bloodlust to pay them any mind, but now, with a clear mind and a steady heartbeat, she suddenly remembers her face plastered on paper all over Ketterdam and wonders if the words might be related to the bounty on her head.

Oh, she hopes so. That would prove to be fun.

They’re coming for you. Good. Let them try.

She nods her head in agreement with Jesper’s words. Kaz nods in approval and then jerks his chin Jesper’s way, a clear sign of dismissal. The Sharpshooter never walks into Kaz’s office after missions like this. He’s an escort, a babysitter of sorts, merely Kaz’s way of making sure she heads his way instead of making a beeline for her bed.

(Y/N) sticks her tongue out at him and Jesper blows her a kiss in response.

Lucky bastard. It’s always her that has to stay up to report. And she hates to admit it, but she’s tired, she can feel the exhaustion begin to creep on her bones and settle in. She has been up for more than thirty-seven hours at this point, and she can feel it catching up to her. Still, she knows that Kaz prefers to hear details when the information is fresh on her mind, when she can provide as much detail as possible, so she pushes through for him. She just has to wait a little while longer before crawling into her bed and passing out for the next twelve hours.

“Marbles comes bearing gifts by the way,” is the last thing the Sharpshooters says before exiting.

A smirk takes over her features, sleep, exhaustion and the new information briefly forgotten.

Kaz is going to hate it.

Lovely.

Kaz seems to sense, probably by the wicked amusement on her face, that whatever it is it’s not something he’s going to enjoy. His face twists into a scowl.

“Out with it, then.”

She pulls out the dark bracelet from her pocket as she walks towards Kaz, dangling it in front of his face when she’s close enough.

Jesper had handed them back on the way home, tossing them over as soon as she’d wiped the blood off her hands. He hadn’t said a word, but (Y/N) knew that the action had meant to snap her out of the weird haze that clouded her mind after every mission, where adrenaline still coursed through her body and all she could think about was bloodshed, fingers itching to kill and maim and fight.

(It was a thing, the haze. When taking lives there was nothing but calmness and bloodthirst, the restlessness that always lingered beneath her skin subsiding as soon as a weapon was placed in her hand and orders were given. And as soon as the mission was done, as soon as the target was neutralized and she’d efficiently fulfilled her orders, fogginess followed. Her mind became clouded, as if somewhat trapped in a loop of violence, every nerve on edge and ready for any threat to emerge.

She was brought up as a killing machine, a child soldier, the best out of all the assassins produced by the Silent Blades, her father’s pride. She was ruthless, wretched, or at least those had been the words used to describe her when she’d been a child. She supposed the dissociative state she slipped into was normal when considering her upbringing, some sort of psychological shield that kept her from going insane.

She never spoke about it, but the Crows somehow knew. They often eased her out of it, knowing full well that when trapped in that state she had not an ounce of thought and only muscle memory to rely on, which made her infinitely more lethal.)

Jesper’s actions had worked like a charm. With something else to do with her hands, the fogginess had ruptured. She’d absentmindedly tied one of the bracelets on her own wrist, fingers playing with the edges of the other.

It’s that bracelet, the one on her arm, that Kaz glances at now. It’s brief, but for a split second the scowl etched on his face softens and something that she can’t quite catch passes through his eyes. It’s gone before (Y/N) can even begin to process it.

“Best friends have to have matching bracelets, don’t they?” And if she wonders about it later, she’ll blame it on the exhaustion, but the words come out softer than she intends them to. A jest, but not any less truthful.

Kaz’s face morphs and she gets a fleeting glimpse at that flicker in his eyes again. His scowl melts into something a tad bit gentler, the look contrasted by the aggressiveness with which he snatches the bracelet from her hand, “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.” He means that and his tone has enough bite to make her cackle.

Amusing.

Placing her hands on her back pockets and shrugging, she responds, “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Kaz snorts, “Go take a bath.” He dismisses her, turning around and making his way to his desk, “Reports can wait until you don’t look half dead.”

That’s unexpected.

(Y/N) raises her eyebrows, “You’re being nice.” It isn’t often that Kaz forgoes a report after a mission. He might’ve been more touched by the gift than he’s letting on.

“It’s for my own sake,” he retorts, not turning around, “you just stink and it’s making me nauseous.”

She does have a lingering smell of blood and sea water.

“Everything in this damned place stinks,” she responds. I know you’re lying, she’s saying, I know you’re being kind.

“Get out.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” (Y/N) mocks, walking out of his office.

She sleeps a full day after that, everyone knowing better than to bother her unless they want to lose to their head, and when she reports to Kaz the next morning the three words she’d heard from the man slip her mind. (Y/N) doesn’t remember them until a few weeks later when she’s tied to the ceiling by her wrists, face bleeding.

Now, she must admit, she’s impressed. No one had ever tried kidnapping before. There’d been more attempts on her life than she could even count; stabs resulting in blood being shed, never one drop of hers, poison that she had either swallowed down like a champ or identified before a single lick of it touched her tongue, because being raised an assassin meant she’d been trained in the art of toxins and she’d built up tolerance to pretty much every substance in existence, and that one time they’d tried to shot at her, which only resulted in (Y/N) stealing Jesper’s gun and placing a bullet right between the perpetrator’s eyebrows. All in good fun. Kidnapping was new, but only because those who had attempted on her life had never tried joining forces, all of them wishing to keep the financial reward for themselves.

Torturing, that was new, too.

She could endure, of course she could, she’d been trained for this. That did not mean she’d missed it.

The poster had stated she was wanted dead or alive and it was clear that the man in front of her wanted to take his time. It was personal, she could tell by the brunt of his hits and the delicate precision of his cuts. Had she been anyone else, she would’ve been begging for it to stop, but (Y/N) was a Silent Blade, even if she’d left the organization and that life behind, and she would never break.

The only reason she was in this situation was because the assailants had gotten the upper hand. They’d used one of (Y/N)’s street urchins— a little girl with piggy tails and two missing teeth, one of the ones who gathered information for (Y/N) and traded it for food and shelter —as leverage. And time had apparently made her soft because she’d hesitated. The brief second of doubt had been everything they’d needed.

Them subduing her didn’t mean she’d gone down without a fight. There’d been five of them in the beginning. Only three remained. She’d plucked one guy’s eye out, going deep enough to sever the optic nerve and cause brain damage, and she’d ripped the other’s ear with her teeth before slitting his throat. She’d managed to stab one of the three men remaining with a dagger before being injected with some unknown serum. It hadn’t knocked her out, not the way it was supposed to if the incredulous look on her kidnapper’s face was any indication, but it had drugged her enough to allow them to overpower her.

And now here she was, slowly bleeding out.

“I intent on handing your corpse to them and claiming the reward.” He’s been quiet for so long that (Y/N) had almost forgotten his presence. She doesn’t raise her head, only looks up. It’s hard to do so when her right eye is swollen shut. “But they never specified the conditions it had to be in.”

The man has his back towards her, fingers running through a box of tools. He’s used almost all of them on her by this point. Amateur. A skilled torturer knows to go slow, to drag it out, to choose a weapon and stick to it until the person is weeping and screaming.

“It was my brother that you killed.”

That sparks her interest, a smirk taking over her bloodied lips. She looks at him, dead in the eye.

“Which one?” she taunts.

The sound of her voice, still strong despite the blood loss, startles him. He freezes for a split second, hand over a wooden baseball bat.

“What?”

She snickers, blood dripping into the floor. “I’ve killed a lot of men, darling.” The way he seethes, fury filling his features, amuses her. “So which one was your brother?”

“You had him swallow his own testicles.”

“Oh, him,” she nods her head in appreciation. “Can’t say I regret it.”

Now he’s fuming, hand shaking so badly he almost loses the grip on the bat. If (Y/N) looks close enough she can see the resemblance. Same brown hair, same nose, same crazy look in their eyes.

“I’ll make you regret it.”

“You can certainly try,” she concedes mockingly. Because, honestly, there’s nothing he can do to her that she hasn’t already withstood.

There’s a raging roar and then a burst of pain. A hit to her abdomen, which no doubt bruised a rib, and then two to her back. But it’s okay, she thinks to herself as she wheezes and coughs, trying to regain air in her lungs, she knows how to play this game and how to win it. Keep him talking, keep him angry, let him think he has the upper hand, keep him from noticing how she’s preparing to break free.

“I wonder…” he murmurs, bat dragging behind him. “You’re not particularly remarkable.” She scoffs as he begins circling her, a tactic supposed to drive the prisoner into panic at the lack of vision of their assailant. Her heart doesn’t stutter. She’s trained to identify people and objects by sound not sight. She knows precisely where he is, even if she can’t see him. “So, what makes you interesting enough for the Bastard to keep so close?”

She grins, feral and with bloodstained teeth.

“Why don’t you come closer and I’ll show you?”

His face does not change but his step falters. “You cannot believe me stupid enough to fall for that.”

“You were stupid enough to tie my wrists with handcuffs,” is all she replies before dislocating her own thumbs and releasing herself from the shackles.

She hits the floor hard, body swaying for a second. Her hands are numb, nerve endings frayed. It hits her, now that she has to keep herself outfight, just how much blood she’s lost. The edges of her vision blur.

There’s a cut on her thigh, it bleeds heavily. Her back is all flayed skin. Breathing is hard.

It doesn’t matter. She only needs four fingers and half a mind to hold and use a dagger. She shakes the dizziness off.

He comes at her, but she’s expecting that. Sidestepping him is easy, kicking him in the back as he passes by even more so.

“You’re not much without your friends and a syringe full of drugs, are you?” she stumbles a little as she taunts him. Time is not on her side, she knows this. He’s cut deep in her arms and legs, no major artery touched, but with precision to give her a slow and prolonged death. She’s been steadily bleeding for hours.

(Y/N) has to end this. Soon.

He comes for her again, and she dodges, punching him right in the gut. He feigns left and she moves away, noticing too late the fist that impacts with the right side of her face. Despite the pain, she manages to stomp his toes and slam her knee against his balls.

That does it.

A high whimper leaves his mouth and as he struggles for air, she backs up. Keeping her eyes on him, her right arm reaches back to the toolbox. She knows what she’s grasped as soon as her fingers graze it.

“Say hi to your brother for me.”

The scalpel lodges itself right on his carotid artery.

“Nice,” she mumbles in delirium as she hears him choke to death. It’d been a majestic throw.

The adrenaline is gone in a second. (Y/N) stumbles backwards, barely aware of all the tools scattering around in the floor. She lets herself rest against the wall, slowly sitting down on the floor.

She’s going to die.

It doesn’t matter that she’s managed to get rid of that poor excuse of a man. She’s too injured. She knows.

(Y/N) isn’t scared. She’s tangled with Death for a long time, and as cold begins to creep in and the edges of her vision blacken, it feels like welcoming an old friend. It feels like getting what she has always had coming for her.

The tips of her fingers begin to tingle, her body’s desperate effort at keeping her heart pumping. Her ears are ringing, hard enough that when shouts begin all that she can hear are muffled sounds.

Then someone’s touching her face. She greets the warmth.

“Fuck,” she hears as she tumbles forward, her forehead landing on a collarbone. Jesper grasps the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. At least, she thinks it’s him. Her brain feels mushy, but her nose has never failed her, and it smells like gunpowder and mint.

She’s laid down on the ground gently, probably to inspect her injuries before moving her.

“You’re going to be okay,” the Sharpshooter reassures her, but his voice is trembling. He’s scared. She must look worse than she feels, and she feels like she’s been attacked by a group of Heartrenders.

She wants to speak, to tell him it’s okay, but opening her mouth feels like an impossible task.

“Save your energy.” That’s Kaz. His voice is steady, but she can feel the underlying tension, the worry in his words. “You are not dying tonight.” And he says it with so much conviction, like he would hold her soul with his own hands to keep it anchored to her body, like he would keep her heart beating with pure willpower.

Her eyes look for him, but she catches sight of something else entirely.

“You’re wearing it.”

She must make no sense, words slurred, but Kaz understands. His whispered words are the last thing she hears before slipping out of consciousness.

“How couldn’t I?”

Then there’s nothing. She loses track of time. She comes back to her body from time to time, able to hear words but incapable of pinpointing the speaker. She’s floating, but there’s pain and aching.

“…too much blood, I don’t know…”

“…keep her alive.”

“I am trying!”

“Don’t try, do it.”

“…punctured lung, broken ribs…”

“…don’t know how she’s still alive.”

When she comes to the first thing that she feels is blinding pain. Everything hurts. Her muscles complain as she sits up. She clenches her jaw to keep the tears at bay. The worst is already over, she will not cry.

“Don’t move,” (Y/N) freezes at the command, her head snapping towards the voice. “Nina stitched you back together, I doubt she would be very happy to see all her hard work ruined.”

She gently eases herself back on the bed, fingertips running over her bandaged stomach. She can feel the edges of the stitches poking through it. It must’ve been bad, then, if she required stitches to keep the wound together. Usually, she’s a fast healer, a result of all the training she’d gone through.

“How long?” Her voice is raspy after not being used. Her throat hurts, which might be related to the way she was choked to the verge of unconsciousness several times while held hostage.

“Four nights.”

Bad then.

(Y/N) can feel Kaz’s eyes on her, assessing. She meets his stare, and it’s when she’s looking at him that a vague memory comes back.

Her eyes drift down to his wrist.

The twin bracelet to her own, the one she keeps tightly wrapped around her wrist, as if part of her own skin, greets her.

“You are wearing it.”

Kaz frowns in confusion, until he follows her line of sight. He looks away, hand clenching and unclenching over the head of his cane.

“Even after almost dying you’re still insufferable,” he responds.

But when he looks back at her, (Y/N) can see everything in his eyes.

How could I not, he’d said, and he’d meant it. If friendship was something that could bloom in a wretched place like Ketterdam, Kaz was her best friend and she was his, even if they’d never discussed it, even if they would never admit it. You’re the steady order to my unrelenting chaos, she thought to herself, someone I would follow to the end of the world.

He nods, as if reading her mind and agreeing with her.

“Rest.” That’s an order, one she has no intention of disobeying.

“Sure thing,” she responds as Kaz makes his way towards the door, “bestie.”

(Y/N) can feel the amusement in his words, “Absolutely insufferable.”

She smirks, toying with the ends of the bracelet’s strings.

(Y/N) never takes it off. Neither does Kaz.

[ha-rinrin]

Drunk Confessions

summary: Your best friend Jinx convinces you to accompany her to a frat party—what’s the worst that could happen?

word count: 8.8k

pairing: Jinx x fem!reader

warning: smut

note: I wrote this at 2am if its bad im deeply sorry my eyes were closing as I wrote it

masterlist

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the window of Jinx’s dorm, casting a cozy glow over the beautifully chaotic space. Posters of her favorite bands were plastered everywhere, and her desk? A vibrant mess of colorful sketches and paint tubes spilling over. The air carried a faintly sweet scent, probably from whatever concoction she’d been whipping up in the kitchen. You and Jinx lounged on her bed, tangled in a heap of blankets and pillows, just enjoying the rare calm of a lazy afternoon. Her body so close to yours made you nervous, the palm of your hands becoming sweaty.

“You’re coming with me, right?” Jinx asked, her eyes practically sparkling as she scrolled through her phone, on a mission to find every detail about the frat party that night, who was going, where it was, she was going as far as to search if there was a specific dress code and “how to dress for a party” on wikihow. She leaned in closer, her blue hair brushing against your arm, sending a little jolt of energy through you.

You hesitated, biting your lip. “I don’t know, Jinx. Frat parties can get pretty…  you know, overwhelming. What if things get out of control, you know that I'm not an extrovert and what if I end up making things awkward?. what if I end up in a corner and everyone thinks “look at this weirdo standing by the wall”, or-?”

She looked at you as if she were one word away from calling a psych ward. “Okay, now stop right there. Where’s your university student spirit?” she asked, her tone playful but firm. She always had this unique way of calming you down, even if it was a little unconventional. “Come on!” she urged, throwing her hands up dramatically, as if you were being ridiculous. “I’m not asking you to jump into a pit of fire! It’s just a party—music, dancing, and a whole lot of fun! Plus, it wouldn’t be the same without my best friend there.”

Even when you were freaking out, you couldn’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. “You know  I’m not exactly the ‘party’ type. I’m way more into our movie marathons and snack fests. Those are fun too,” you said with a sweet smile.

But this will be different! Just picture it—it’ll be just like in the movies! Music pumping, everyone dancing like nobody’s watching, and us stirring up some delightful chaos as always!” Jinx grinned, leaning in, her eyes wide with mischief. “Come on, it’ll be a blast! We’re a team, remember? We can handle anything together!”

“Delightful chaos? Is that your new way of saying ‘let’s get kicked out’?” you teased, raising an eyebrow, your lips curving into a smirk.

“Maybe just a little,” she admitted, biting her lip to stifle a laugh. “But think about it! This is our chance to break out of our comfort zones. Besides, I can’t do this without my ride-or-die! We’ll stick together, and I’ll keep you safe. Mostly.”

You rolled your eyes, your heart warming at her enthusiasm. “I don’t know, Jinx. What if it gets too wild? I’m not exactly a social butterfly here, you are the one who takes that role.”

“That’s exactly why I need you!” she exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over. “You balance me out! And who knows? You might actually have fun! Plus, what if I end up in a food fight again? I’ll need you there to help me dodge flying pizza!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that ridiculous image. “That was one time!”

“Exactly! And it was the best night ever!” Jinx said, her enthusiasm infectious. “You’ll totally regret it if you don’t come. Just think of all the crazy stories we could tell! Pretty please? I really want my best friend by my side!”

You looked at her, taking in how sincere she was, hope shining in her eyes. “Fine, but only if you promise not to get us kicked out and staying by my side.”

“Deal!” she exclaimed, her grin stretching wide as she pulled you into a quick hug that felt warm and comforting. “You’re not going to regret this! Now, let’s get ready!”

As she jumped off the bed and started rifling through her closet, you couldn’t help but smile at her infectious excitement. Maybe stepping out of your comfort zone wouldn’t be so bad, especially with Jinx by your side.

As you both stepped out of her dorm, the energy crackled between you. Jinx practically skipped, her excitement infectious as she led you down the bustling streets toward the frat house. The music thumped louder with each step, pulling you closer to the chaotic glow of string lights, neon paint, and a wild swarm of partygoers.

“Jinx! Over here!” called a girl with a bright green streak in her hair, a friend of Jinx’s you recognized from campus but had never spoken to before. She was surrounded by others from Jinx's circle, each one more eccentric than the last. They erupted into cheers upon seeing her, welcoming her with quick hugs and high-fives.

“Hey, you all made it!” Jinx cheered, bouncing over to them. With a proud grin, she introduced you, squeezing your hand reassuringly as you gave a nervous wave. Her friends greeted you warmly, instantly pulling you into their circle and helping you feel more at ease in the lively, unfamiliar environment.

You stood there, adjusting to the crowded atmosphere, but Jinx’s friends made it easier. They were loud and full of life, radiating the same chaotic energy that Jinx thrived on. Each one had a unique style: mismatched patterns, brightly colored hair, and bold makeup you wouldn’t expect to see in a classroom. It felt like Jinx had magnetized a group of people as wild and vibrant as she was.

“Finally dragged you out, huh?” said a tall girl with neon blue lipstick, winking as she handed you a plastic cup. “It takes a lot to get someone out of their cocoon, but Jinx is persistent.” She nudged Jinx playfully, who rolled her eyes with a grin.

“Trust me, this is a rare occurrence,” Jinx said, throwing an arm over your shoulders. “But I had to bring my best friend into the madness at least once, right?”

Her words warmed you, even though you could feel her friends’ curious gazes on you. You took a sip from the cup, feeling the buzz of Jinx’s excitement wrap around you like a blanket.

As the night went on, Jinx’s group chatted animatedly, and every so often, you caught her glancing over to check on you, her hand brushing against your arm as she leaned in to hear your responses. Each time her skin touched yours, an unmistakable spark ignited, even if it was just a fleeting connection.

As the night deepened, Jinx remained the life of the party, her laughter ringing out above the pulsing music. Each time she returned to your side, she held a new drink—colorful concoctions that seemed to amplify her energy even more.

“You have to try this one! It’s delicious!” she exclaimed while holding up a vibrant pink cocktail, her grin widening as she leaned in closer.

You took a cautious sip; the sweetness almost masked the alcohol. “Okay, this one’s not bad,” you admitted, your smile growing as you handed it back. You watched her down a good portion of it, her eyes sparkling with delight.

With each drink, Jinx became even more animated. She danced around you, tugging you along as she pulled her friends into playful conversations. The rosy hue in her cheeks deepened, and a slight slur in her words made her even more charming.

“Are you having fun?” she shouted, swaying to the beat. Her laughter bubbled up, contagious in its joy. “I mean, like, really having fun?”

“I’m getting there!” you replied, feeling the warmth of her spirit wrap around you.

As the night wore on, you noticed her friends keeping a closer eye on her, subtly guiding her back when she drifted too far into the crowd. Jinx, however, seemed blissfully unaware, caught up in her whirlwind of excitement. She had just finished another drink—a bright green one.

“Check this out!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with mischief as she took a big gulp. “This is the best!”

After downing the drink, she stumbled slightly, catching herself against your shoulder with a laugh. “Oops! I think I’m getting a little tipsy,” she admitted, her voice a mix of excitement and amusement.

“Just a little?” you teased, chuckling as you steadied her.

“This is what parties are all about, right? Just let go and have fun!” she answered.

You watched her with a mix of affection and concern as she took another drink from a passing friend, her laughter growing more exuberant with each sip. Despite her slight wobble, there was a light in her eyes that seemed to shine brighter, her joy infectious.

“Promise me you’ll stay close?” she asked, her expression earnest as she looked at you with those bright, swirling purple eyes.

“Always,” you replied, squeezing her hand reassuringly, warmth blooming in your chest at the sincerity in her gaze.

After another round, she returned to your side, clutching a neon blue drink.

“Maybe we should slow it down a bit, huh?” you suggested, attempting to steer her away from the colorful drinks.

“Slow down? Never!” she exclaimed, then leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But seriously, you’re the best. I love having you here.”

You felt your heart flutter, caught off guard by the sincerity in her gaze. “I love being here with you, too,” you replied, your voice softening as you looked into her eyes.

She smiled, the warmth of the moment hanging in the air, but instead of saying more, you both swayed gently to the music, her shoulder brushing against yours, sending little sparks up your arm.

As the party continued, Jinx’s energy ebbed and flowed. She’d lose herself in dance, twirling around before suddenly collapsing against you, breathless and giggling. “I’m definitely tipsy now,” she confessed, finally self-aware, her cheeks flushed and her smile wide. “But you’re still here.”

“Of course I am,” you assured her, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her. It felt natural, as if you were meant to be this close.

“Good,” she murmured, resting her head against your shoulder. The moment felt intimate, surrounded by chaos yet cocooned in your own little world.

You wanted to say something more, to bridge the gap between friendship and something deeper. But the thought of her waking up tomorrow, her mind clearer and possibly regretting this moment, held you back. Instead, you focused on the way her laughter resonated in your chest.

As she tilted her head up, her eyes gleaming under the colored lights, you noticed the slight wobble in her posture. “Hey,” she said, mischief dancing in her voice. “You’re really special, you know that? Like… you get me.”

You smiled softly, your heart racing. “Thanks, Jinx. You’re pretty special too.”

Without warning, she leaned in, her breath warm against your skin. In that fleeting moment, you felt her lips brush against yours—soft and tentative. But just as quickly, you pulled away, a wave of uncertainty washing over you. Confusion crossed her features, and you could see the glimmer of disappointment in her eyes.

“Why didn't you kiss me back?”

You could see the heaviness in her gaze, a hint of sadness creeping in.

“Jinx…” You didn't even know what to say to her, so you went for the classic and safe option. “Let’s get you some water, alright?” you said gently, trying to guide her toward the kitchen.

“I like you, okay?” she finally blurted out, her voice earnest, cutting through the noise of the party.

Your heart raced, the weight of her words hanging in the air between you. “Jinx, I—”

“Wait!” she interrupted, her eyes wide with determination. “I know it sounds crazy, but you make me feel… I don’t know, like I can just be myself.”

You took a breath, trying to process everything. “You’re really drunk right now. This isn’t the best time to have this conversation,” you said, your voice soft yet firm.

“Maybe,” she admitted, her expression shifting as she leaned closer, her breath warm against your face. “But it’s true. You get me in a way no one else does.”

The sincerity in her gaze made your chest tighten. “Jinx, I care about you. But you have to know that it’s the drinks talking right now. You might not even remember this tomorrow.”

“Who cares about tomorrow?” she shot back, frustration creeping into her tone. “Right now, I want you to know how I feel.”

You could feel the tension building, the unspoken feelings that had always lingered just beneath the surface. “It’s complicated, Jinx. I don’t want to ruin what we have,” you said, glancing around to make sure no one else was listening.

“Then don’t!” she pleaded, her voice dropping to a whisper as she stepped closer, her presence intoxicating. “Just let me have this moment. Please.”

“Jinx—,” you said, your heart pounding. “We need to get you home. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“Home? What’s so great about that?” she asked, her expression faltering. “I just want to be here with you, right now.”

“Being here with you is amazing, but I care about you too much to let this go too far when you’re like this,” you said gently, trying to balance her feelings with your concern.

“Why can't you just let go for one night? We’ll deal with the aftermath in the morning,” she tried to convince you, her frustration boiling beneath the surface.

As her words settled in, you knew you had to keep her safe. “Come on, Jinx. Let’s get you home. You need water, not more drinks,” you said, guiding her gently toward the door.

With each step, you felt the weight of her lingering gaze on your back, the unspoken words hanging in the air. You knew she wouldn’t remember everything in the morning, and that was both a relief and a burden.

As you pulled her out of the chaotic house and into the cool night air, you felt her lean into you, exhaustion finally taking over. “You’re the best, you know that?” she mumbled, her voice slurred yet sincere. “I really appreciate you being here. Even if… you don’t really like me back.”

Her words stung, and you turned to face her, feeling the ache of unfulfilled possibilities. “It’s not that I don’t like you, Jinx. It’s just… complicated.”

She looked up at you, her eyes hazy yet searching. “Can we talk about this tomorrow? When I’m sober?”

You shook your head softly, trying to keep the moment light despite the heaviness in your chest. “Let’s just focus on getting you home for tonight, okay?”

She nodded, her disappointment palpable. As you walked together, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you, a bond strengthened yet fraught with unspoken truths.

As you stepped into Jinx’s dorm, you immediately took action. 

“Alright, let’s get you settled,” you said, gently guiding her toward the couch. Jinx plopped down, her head drooping slightly as she leaned back against the cushions. You quickly grabbed a water bottle from her desk, unscrewing the cap and holding it up to her lips.

“Drink up,” you instructed, watching as she took small sips, her eyes fluttering as she fought to stay awake.

“Thank you, you’re the best,” she mumbled, a lazy smile spreading across her face.

Once she had finished the water, you decided to help her get ready for bed. “I’ll be right back,” you said, heading toward her closet. You rummaged through her clothes until you found a pair of soft pajamas—a comfy, oversized shirt and matching shorts.

When you returned, though, you found Jinx curled up on the couch, her breathing even and soft, the energy from earlier dissipating into peaceful slumber. Your heart swelled with affection as you watched her for a moment, her colorful hair sprawled out around her like a halo.

“Guess I’m not needed after all,” you murmured to yourself, a smile tugging at your lips. But the thought of leaving her on the couch didn’t sit well with you. She needed a proper place to sleep.

With a careful determination, you knelt beside her. “Hey, Jinx,” you said gently, brushing a few stray hairs from her face. “Time to move to your bed.”

There was no response. She just shifted slightly, a soft sigh escaping her lips. You took a deep breath, wrapping your arms around her and lifting her up with surprising ease. Her weight was familiar and comforting, and you could feel the warmth radiating from her as you cradled her against your chest.

“Here we go,” you whispered, navigating the small room with care. You stepped over her scattered shoes and clothes, your heart racing as you carried her toward the bed.

As you laid her down, Jinx stirred slightly but didn’t fully wake, a sleepy smile gracing her lips as she nestled deeper into the blankets. You quickly slipped the pajamas onto her, careful not to jostle her too much.

“Goodnight, Jinx,” you whispered, brushing a soft kiss against her forehead. She sighed contentedly, and for a moment, you stood there, watching her peaceful form.

Feeling a rush of warmth, you decided to settle in on the edge of her bed, the soft sheets inviting. As you sat there, your mind wandered, replaying the night’s events—the laughter, the dancing, the momentary brush of her lips against yours.

You couldn’t shake the feeling of what she had said earlier, the sincerity of her words hanging in the air. It felt like a turning point, one that you hoped tomorrow would help clarify.

Eventually, fatigue began to pull at your eyelids. You leaned back against the headboard, listening to her gentle breathing as you drifted into a light sleep, the room filled with the comforting glow of string lights. before you even knew it, you were fast asleep. 

The soft light of morning crept through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stirred awake, the events of the night still fresh in your mind. Glancing over at Jinx, you smiled softly at the sight of her peacefully sleeping, her colorful hair spilling across the pillows.

Careful not to wake her, you quietly slipped out of bed, stretching a little as you got to your feet. You padded over to the small bedside table, a little nightstand with a drawer that seemed to hold everything from old textbooks to stray hair ties. You opened the drawer and rummaged around until you found a bottle of aspirin.

After grabbing the bottle, you filled a glass with water from her desk, setting it gently on the nightstand next to the aspirin. You paused for a moment, glancing back at Jinx, who was still nestled under the covers, a serene expression on her face.

“Just in case you need it,” you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips. You tiptoed out of the room, making your way to the small kitchen area in her dorm.

Once there, you decided to make breakfast. The scent of coffee filled the air as you started brewing a fresh pot. You rummaged through her cabinets, pulling out some eggs and bread for toast. Cooking felt oddly calming, and the rhythmic motions of cracking eggs and toasting bread helped clear your mind.

As you worked, thoughts of Jinx floated through your mind—her laughter, the way she lit up the room, and the unexpected confession from the night before. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of anticipation mixed with anxiety about how she would feel in the morning.

The scent of coffee filled the air as you worked, the rhythmic motions of cracking eggs and toasting bread helping clear your mind. Suddenly, the sound of soft footsteps approached, and you turned to see Jinx walking into the kitchen, her hair tousled and her eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” you said, a smile spreading across your face.

She rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn as she leaned against the doorframe. “What time is it?” she mumbled, still half-lost in her dreams.

“Late enough for breakfast,” you replied, flipping a slice of toast. “I thought I’d surprise you.”

Jinx blinked a few times, her expression slowly shifting from drowsy confusion to delight. “You’re the best! I can’t believe you made breakfast. What are you cooking?”

“Just some eggs and toast,” you said, pouring her a cup of coffee and handing it to her. “Nothing fancy, but I hope it’ll help with your hangover.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she groaned, taking a sip and making a face at the taste. “Is that black coffee? You’re lucky I’m too tired to argue.”

You chuckled, leaning against the counter as you watched her. “I can always add cream and sugar if you’d like.”

She waved a hand dismissively, already turning her attention to the toast popping up from the toaster. “Nah, I’ll take it strong. What’s life without a little bitterness, right?”

“Speaking of bitterness,” you began, your voice light as you tried to gauge her mood, “how are you feeling this morning?”

Jinx leaned against the counter, a playful smirk on her lips. “Like I’ve been run over by a truck. But I’d say it was worth it for last night. You kept me from doing anything too crazy, right?”

“Just trying to look out for you,” you said, your heart racing slightly at the memory of her words from the night before. “But you were definitely having fun.”

Her smile faltered just a bit, and you could see the wheels turning in her mind. “Yeah… about that.”

You raised an eyebrow, bracing yourself for what she might say next. “What about it?”

Jinx glanced down at her coffee, biting her lip. “I kind of remember some things. Like… maybe telling you you’re special?”

Your breath caught in your throat. “You said a few things, yeah.”

“Did I embarrass myself?” she asked, looking up at you with those bright, swirling eyes, a mixture of anxiety and curiosity flickering in them.

“Not really,” you assured her, trying to keep your tone light. “You just expressed some feelings.”

She blinked, the weight of your words hanging between you. “Feelings?” she echoed softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Yeah, feelings,” you said, your heart racing as you fought the urge to say more. “But maybe we should focus on breakfast first?”

“Right, breakfast.” Jinx nodded, but you could see that her mind was still on the night before. As you both stood there, the air thick with unspoken words, you hoped she’d be ready to talk about it again soon.

You turned back to the stove, flipping the eggs with practiced ease. “So, what do you think? Scrambled or sunny-side up?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Scrambled, definitely. Can’t handle any more surprises this morning,” she replied, a hint of a smile creeping back onto her lips.

With the eggs cooking, you let the comfortable silence settle between you, stealing glances at Jinx as she took another sip of her coffee. Her gaze drifted toward the window, the sunlight illuminating the room in warm hues.

“Last night was… fun,” Jinx said finally, breaking the silence. Her voice was soft, but you could hear the hint of vulnerability underneath. “I just—I hope I didn’t say anything too crazy.”

You chuckled lightly, trying to ease her worries. “You were just being you, Jinx. It was kind of nice, actually. You don’t have to worry about what you said.”

She turned to you, her eyes searching your face for reassurance. “But you know I can get a little… reckless when I drink. I didn’t mean to make things awkward.”

“It wasn’t awkward,” you reassured her, your heart racing again as the memory of her words flashed through your mind—the way she had looked at you, the closeness you had shared. “You just told me you think I’m special. It was sweet.”

“Sweet, huh?” Jinx replied, her lips quirking up in a teasing grin. “And what exactly does that mean? Are we talking ‘special friend’ sweet, or ‘I think you’re cute’ sweet?”

You hesitated, the weight of her gaze making it hard to form the words. “It could mean a bit of both,” you said cautiously. “But it depends on how you feel this morning.”

Her expression shifted, a mix of playfulness and genuine curiosity. “What if I told you I remembered a little more? Like… that kiss?”

You turned to face her fully, heart pounding. “You remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” she said, her tone teasing yet edged with something deeper. “I also remember how you didn’t really return it. But, uh, I’m sorry; it kinda slipped.”

You could feel the heat creeping up your cheeks, and your pulse quickened at her admission. “It’s not that I didn’t want to,” you stumbled over your words, scrambling for an explanation. “I just—”

“Just what?” she prompted, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Were you scared of my breath? It was probably awful.”

“No! It wasn’t that!” You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing slightly as you caught her playful grin. “I just didn’t want to make things weird.”

“Aw, so you were thinking of my feelings,” she teased, leaning closer, her expression shifting as she tried to gauge your seriousness. “But, like, what do you think about it now? I mean, is it still weird?”

You took a deep breath, trying to navigate the sudden shift in the conversation. “I think it was a moment,” you said slowly. “And it felt… nice. But I don’t want to rush into anything. Especially since you were—”

“Drunk?” she interrupted, a bit of uncertainty creeping into her playful demeanor. “Yeah, I get that. But maybe it was a bit more than just that, you know?”

Your heart raced as you met her gaze, feeling the weight of her words. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe there’s something there that we haven’t really explored yet,” she said softly, her voice losing its playful edge. “Like, between us.”

You swallowed hard, the implications hanging thick in the air. “Are you saying you want to explore it?”

Jinx hesitated, the teasing glint in her eyes dimming slightly as she shifted her weight, looking almost vulnerable. “I don’t know. I’m scared, honestly. I don’t want to mess up what we have.”

“Neither do I,” you replied earnestly, wanting to bridge the gap between you. “But if we don’t talk about it, we’ll never know.”

“True,” she said, biting her lip as she considered your words. “And you know me—I’m not great with talking about feelings. They’re just… there. And sometimes they scare me.”

“I get it,” you said, trying to offer her a reassuring smile. “Feelings can be confusing, especially with everything that happened last night.”

“Yeah, and you’d think I’d be used to it by now,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “But I guess I’m just not as brave as I pretend to be.”

You felt a surge of empathy for her, knowing how hard it could be to voice what lay beneath the surface. “It’s okay to be scared, Jinx. We can figure this out together.”

She looked at you, her expression softening. “Together sounds nice,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But, like, what does that even mean? Do we just hang out more, or…?”

“I think it means being honest with each other,” you suggested, feeling the weight of the conversation start to settle into something more hopeful. “Maybe we take things slow and see where it goes?”

“Slow, huh? You mean like taking it easy, not like a rollercoaster ride?” she replied, a teasing tone creeping back into her voice. “Because you know I’m all for the thrill, but this feels different.”

You chuckled lightly, appreciating her humor amidst the serious talk. “Exactly. No rollercoasters. Just… us. Hanging out, having fun. And if things happen, then they happen.”

“Okay, I can work with that,” Jinx said, her smile returning, though there was still a hint of apprehension in her eyes. “But what if I get too reckless again? You might end up in a weird position where you have to deal with my chaos.”

“Chaos is kind of your specialty,” you said, your heart fluttering at the thought of her quirks. “And honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Her laughter filled the kitchen, lightening the air between you. “You’re seriously the best. I mean, how did I get so lucky to have you around?”

You couldn’t help but grin back at her, feeling warmth spread through your chest. “I could say the same about you. You keep things interesting.”

She stepped closer, her playful demeanor shifting again as she looked into your eyes, the laughter lingering in the air between you like a sweet melody. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do,” you replied, your heart racing at the intensity of her gaze. “You make everything more fun. More... alive.”

A flicker of vulnerability passed through her eyes, and you could sense the shift in the atmosphere. The teasing edges of the conversation softened, replaced by something deeper, something that had been simmering beneath the surface for a while now.

“Do you think,” she started, her voice barely above a whisper, “that we could… maybe try to be more than friends?”

The question hung in the air, and your heart raced in response. “I’d like that,” you said, the words spilling out before you could second-guess yourself. “I really would.”

Jinx stepped even closer, her breath warm against your skin. “Then maybe we should just go for it,” she suggested, her eyes sparkling with mischief yet grounded with sincerity.

“Go for it?” you echoed, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Yeah. Like… a kiss. Just to see how it feels, you know?” she said, her voice teasing but her expression earnest.

“Okay, but if we’re doing this, I want to make sure it’s not just a spur-of-the-moment thing.” You took a step closer, feeling the space between you disappear. “I want it to mean something.”

Jinx nodded, her eyes locked onto yours, the playful edge returning just a touch. “I’m all for meaningful moments. Just don’t blame me if it ends up being a little chaotic.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

With that, Jinx leaned in, her gaze flickering to your lips before meeting your eyes again, searching for confirmation. You felt your breath hitch as the moment stretched between you, filled with unspoken words and uncharted territory.

Then, as if the world faded away, you closed the distance. Her lips brushed against yours softly, tentative at first, sending a rush of warmth through you. It was gentle yet electric, a perfect blend of sweetness and a hint of the wildness that defined Jinx.

As you kissed, it felt like everything else disappeared—the kitchen, the smell of breakfast, the morning light filtering through the curtains. It was just the two of you, suspended in a moment that felt both familiar and entirely new.

Just as you began to pull away, Jinx grabbed the back of your neck, deepening the kiss, her lips moving against yours with a newfound urgency. The softness of her kiss quickly transformed into something more passionate, igniting a fire within you that sent shivers down your spine.

You instinctively wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the heat radiating from her body. Jinx responded by pressing herself against you, her hands weaving into your hair as she tilted her head, deepening the kiss even further. The world outside faded into oblivion as you lost yourselves in the moment, the taste of her lips intoxicating, each brush igniting sparks of electricity between you.

The kiss grew more fervent, each movement becoming bolder, more desperate. You felt her heart racing against your chest, mirroring your own excitement. She pulled you in, and you could feel the playful chaos she thrived on, but it was paired with a tenderness that made your heart race.

“Wow,” Jinx breathed against your lips, her eyes sparkling as she pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, a teasing smile playing on her mouth. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I,” you admitted, breathless. Your heart was pounding, and the warmth spreading through your body felt electrifying.

Jinx leaned in again, this time capturing your lips with a fierceness that made your head spin. She pressed you against the counter, her body fitting against yours perfectly, igniting every nerve ending in a way that made you forget everything but her. You could feel her smile against your mouth as she pulled you in deeper, her fingers dancing down your sides.

“Are you sure this is okay?” you asked between heated kisses, the pulse of adrenaline making your heart race even faster.

“More than okay,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry as she nipped at your lower lip, sending a jolt through you. “I’ve wanted this for a while.”

With that, the air thickened with desire, the playful banter fading as you both surrendered to the moment. Jinx's hands explored your back, pulling you even closer as you kissed her back with equal intensity. It was a dance of chaos and connection, both of you losing yourselves in the rhythm of your lips moving together.

As you kissed, you became aware of the world around you again—sounds of the eggs sizzling on the stove, the coffee still brewing, the gentle hum of life outside—but none of it mattered. It was just you and Jinx, tangled up in each other’s arms, feeling the rush of something new and thrilling.

“Wait,” you said suddenly, pulling back, breathless. “What if we burn the toast?”

Jinx laughed, a bright sound that lit up the kitchen even more than the morning sun. “Oh, right! Priorities!” She reluctantly stepped back, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “But I wouldn’t mind some toast and maybe a side of more kisses later?”

You grinned, heart still racing from both the kiss and her playful tone. “Deal. But for now, let’s save breakfast before it turns into a charred mess.”

With a shared laugh, you turned back to the stove, stealing glances at each other as the air buzzed with a new energy. You couldn’t help but feel like everything had changed in that kitchen, and you were both excited to see where this new path would lead.

The soft morning light spilled into Jinx's room, painting everything in warm hues as you snuggled under the cozy blankets. You were nestled against Jinx, who had sprawled out comfortably beside you after a chaotic yet delicious breakfast. Her hair was a wild mess, a testament to the way she rolled out of bed in her usual chaotic style, and you couldn’t help but smile at how adorable she looked.

With a dramatic sigh, she flopped back down, burying her head between your breasts, her voice muffled as she said, “I like this relationship benefit.”

You felt your heart race, a warm flush creeping up your cheeks. “Oh really?” you replied, your fingers gently running through her hair. “What else do you like?”

“Mmm, definitely the cuddles,” she sighed contentedly, her breath warm against your skin. “But mostly this.” She wiggled a little closer, clearly enjoying the closeness.

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around her, pulling her even tighter against you. “You’re just using me for cuddles, huh?”

“Guilty as charged,” she said, lifting her head to flash you a cheeky grin. “But can you blame me? You’re the best pillow ever.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face betrayed you. “A pillow? Really?”

“Yeah, the best kind—soft and warm,” she teased, leaning in to nuzzle you again. “And I can’t get enough of you right now.”

You felt a flutter in your chest at her words, heart swelling with affection. “I could get used to this,” you admitted, pulling her in closer, both of you sinking deeper into the sheets.

“Me too,” she said softly, her voice a little more serious now. “You’re like the perfect chaos to my perfectly chaotic life.”

“Perfectly chaotic, huh? I like the sound of that,” you replied, grinning at her.

Jinx giggled, but her laughter faded as she studied your face, her gaze lingering on your lips. You felt a spark of anticipation in the air, a delicious tension that made your heart race.

“Hey,” she murmured, her voice low, “can I…?”

You didn’t need to answer. In one smooth motion, Jinx closed the space between you, capturing your lips in a soft, tentative kiss. The world outside faded away as you melted into the moment, your fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer.

Her lips were warm and inviting, and you felt a rush of exhilaration as the kiss deepened, becoming more passionate. Jinx sighed against your mouth, the sound sending shivers down your spine. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, and you could taste the remnants of breakfast lingering on her.

As you both finally pulled away, breathless and a little dazed, Jinx rested her forehead against yours, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “So, does this count as a benefit?”

You chuckled, still feeling the warmth of her lips on yours. “I think it counts as a pretty great benefit,” you replied, your heart swelling with joy.

“Good,” she said with a sly smile, “because I plan on taking full advantage of it.”

You laughed again, the warmth of the moment wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. You lay there, lost in each other’s embrace, knowing that this—Jinx, the cuddles, the kisses—was exactly where you belonged.

You couldn't help but feel a mischievous grin spread across your face. “I might need to show you just how much I like these benefits, too,” you teased, leaning in closer.

Jinx’s eyes sparkled with excitement, her playful energy radiating off her. “Oh? I’d love to see what you have in mind,” she said, her voice dropping to that breathy tone that sent heat rushing through you.

Before you could overthink it, you leaned in, capturing her lips again. This kiss was deeper, more urgent, as if you were both trying to convey everything you felt in that moment. You pulled her closer, fingers tracing down her side as you savored the sweet taste of her.

Jinx responded eagerly, her hands threading into your hair, pulling you in as if she wanted to become one with you. You could feel the rush of passion growing between you, each kiss igniting a spark that left you both breathless.

As the kiss deepened, you found yourself shifting lower, your lips trailing from her mouth down to her neck, planting soft kisses along her skin. Jinx shivered beneath your touch, her breaths coming in quick gasps

as you continued your descent, each kiss eliciting a sweet sound from her lips. You reveled in the way she reacted, her body responding eagerly to your every move.

“Wow,” she breathed, her voice filled with a mixture of surprise and delight. “You’re really good at this, aren’t you?”

You smirked against her skin, relishing the way she melted under your touch. “Just trying to show you how much I appreciate our little relationship benefits,” you replied playfully, your lips brushing against her collarbone.

“More, please,” Jinx urged, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she pulled you back for another kiss, this one even more heated than before. Her hands roamed down your back, fingers dancing over your skin, igniting a fire within you that you could hardly contain.

With renewed determination, you resumed your exploration, trailing kisses down her torso, pausing to admire her beauty. Each kiss left a lingering warmth, and you could feel her pulse quicken beneath your lips.

“Hey, don’t forget about me up here,” Jinx teased breathlessly, her playful tone mingling with the seriousness of the moment. You looked up at her, grinning at the way her cheeks flushed a deeper shade.

“Oh, I could never forget about you,” you replied, your voice low and teasing as you moved back up to capture her lips again.

She pulled you closer, your bodies fitting together perfectly, as if you were made for this. The kiss deepened once more, the world around you fading away as you lost yourselves in each other.

After a few blissful moments, you pulled away slightly, resting your forehead against hers. “I could get used to this,” you murmured, your breath mingling with hers.

Jinx’s gaze softened, and she smiled, a genuine warmth filling her eyes. “Me too. It feels… right, you know?”

You nodded, the weight of her words settling over you like a cozy blanket. “Yeah, it really does.”

With a playful smirk, you let your fingers trail down to her thighs, feeling the softness of her skin. “But I think I still have some benefits to explore,” you said, looking up at her with a teasing glint in your eye.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Jinx challenged, her voice laced with playful urgency. “Get to it!”

With a laugh, you lowered your head once more, ready to discover just how far this delightful chaos could take you both. The room was filled with soft laughter, warmth, and the promise of so many more sweet moments together.

You pressed your lips to her inner thigh, feeling the warmth radiate from her skin. Jinx gasped softly, her body responding eagerly to your touch, and you smiled against her, savoring the thrill of the moment.

“Is this what you meant by ‘benefits’?” you teased, your voice low and playful as you continued your trail of kisses.

“Definitely,” she breathed, her fingers tangling in your hair as she held you close. “But I might need a little more encouragement.”

With a playful glint in your eye, you shifted lower, planting kisses along the inside of her thigh, slowly building the anticipation. Jinx squirmed beneath you, her breath hitching as you took your time, enjoying every second of your exploration.

“You’re such a tease,” she murmured, half-laughing, half-pleading.

“Only because you love it,” you shot back, glancing up at her with a mischievous grin.

“Guilty,” she admitted, her voice a mix of sincerity and playful defiance.

Encouraged by her words, you continued your journey, your kisses trailing ever closer, teasingly brushing against the edge of her shorts. Jinx’s breaths quickened, the tension in the air crackling with electricity.

“Please,” she whispered, her eyes pleading, and that single word ignited a fire within you. You knew exactly what she wanted, and you were more than willing to give it to her.

You shifted your attention, pressing a soft kiss on the waistband of her shorts before slowly pulling back to look into her eyes. “Are you sure?” you asked, wanting to make sure she was comfortable.

“More than sure,” she replied, her voice firm yet filled with an undeniable sweetness.

With a smile of affirmation you discarded her shorts along with her underwear, you pressed your lips against her clit, and Jinx gasped, her body arching towards you as you continued your teasing exploration, sucking, twirling her bundle of nerves with your tongue. Each kiss sent shivers through her, and you felt empowered by the effect you had on her.

“God, you’re incredible,” she breathed, her fingers tightening in your hair as you took your time, cherishing every moment, every reaction.

You decided to add your fingers into the mix, thrusting them inside of her, and a long, soft moan escaped her lips. Jinx’s body responded eagerly, arching toward you as if craving more. You could feel the warmth radiating from her, the way she melted beneath your touch igniting a rush of exhilaration within you.

“Just like that,” she gasped, her fingers still tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as if she wanted you to be a part of her completely. The urgency in her voice made your heart race, and you reveled in the control you had over her pleasure.

“Is this what you wanted?” you teased, your breath warm against her skin as you began to move your fingers in a steady rhythm, curling them just right. Each thrust brought forth another wave of pleasure, another gasp that made you want to smile.

“Yes! Just like that!” Jinx breathed, her voice trembling with need. You could see the way her body reacted, how she squirmed and writhed beneath you, and it only encouraged you to go further.

You leaned down, placing gentle kisses along her thigh, reminding her of the connection you shared as you continued to tease and explore her. Every movement was deliberate, designed to drive her wild, to make her forget everything else but the sensation of being with you in that moment.

“God, I can’t get enough of you,” you murmured against her skin, feeling the heat of her body against your lips. Jinx’s eyes sparkled with mischief and desire, and you could tell she was close.

“Don’t stop, please!” she urged, her voice a mix of desperation and delight. You quickened your pace, your fingers moving with newfound urgency as you watched her face, captivated by the way her pleasure built higher and higher.

“Let go for me,” you encouraged softly, feeling the tension in her body as it coiled tighter. The room was filled with the sounds of her gasps and the rhythm of your movements, creating a beautiful melody that echoed the intensity of the moment.

As Jinx finally surrendered to the wave of pleasure, you felt a rush of triumph wash over you. In that blissful moment, everything else faded away, and all that remained was the two of you, lost in your own little world.

Jinx's body tensed and then relaxed in a series of delightful shudders. You watched in awe as her expression transformed, a mix of bliss and vulnerability that made your heart swell. You slowed your movements, wanting her to savor every lingering moment, every aftershock of ecstasy.

“Wow,” she breathed, her eyes fluttering open, filled with a soft glow. “You really know how to treat a girl right.”

You chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “I just aim to please,” you replied playfully, your heart racing at the intimate connection you had just shared.

Jinx’s smile was radiant, and she pulled you closer, capturing your lips in a tender kiss that sent warmth through your entire body. “You definitely succeeded,” she whispered against your mouth, her fingers tracing the outline of your jaw.

As you kissed her, the world around you faded again, the intimacy of the moment enveloping you both like a warm embrace. The taste of her lingered on your lips, sweet and intoxicating, fueling the spark of desire that still flickered between you.

“Can I return the favor?” she asked, her voice playful but with an underlying sincerity that sent a thrill through you.

You felt your cheeks heat at the suggestion, but you nodded eagerly. “Only if you want to,” you replied, your heart racing at the thought of her taking charge.

“Trust me, I do,” Jinx said, her grin wide and mischievous. She shifted to position herself above you, a look of determination in her eyes that made your breath hitch.

As she settled between your legs, you couldn’t help but admire her confidence. Jinx leaned down, planting soft kisses along your body, savoring every inch of your skin. Each touch felt electric, igniting your senses and leaving you craving more.

“Just relax,” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. You nodded, allowing her to take the lead, your heart racing in anticipation of what was to come.

The sensation of her lips trailing lower sent shivers through you, and you felt yourself sinking deeper into the sheets, completely at her mercy. Every kiss was filled with love and passion, a reminder of the connection you had forged in that cozy bed.

Jinx paused, looking up at you with a playful sparkle in her eyes. “You ready?” she asked, her voice low and sultry.

You nodded, breathless with excitement. “Always,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

With that, she continued her descent, and you felt the world around you fade away again as she focused her attention on you, filling the room with shared laughter, love, and warmth that made everything feel just right.

With a sly smile, Jinx shifted her focus, her lips dancing across your skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Each kiss sent ripples of anticipation through you, drawing soft gasps from your lips. You couldn’t help but arch your back slightly, urging her on, lost in the intoxicating sensations.

Jinx’s laughter echoed softly in the room as she reveled in the effect she had on you. “You’re so cute when you get all flustered,” she teased, looking up at you with those bright, playful eyes that held a hint of mischief.

“Only because you make it impossible to stay calm,” you replied, your voice breathless, heart racing as you felt her warmth envelop you.

She smirked, leaning in closer, her breath ghosting over your sensitive skin. “Good,” she whispered, before pressing a soft kiss against your stomach as she slowly took down your own underwear, sending another wave of shivers coursing through you. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, anticipation building with every gentle caress.

As she continued her descent, her lips brushed against your thighs, teasingly lingering just enough to drive you wild. You could feel the tension in the air, thick with desire, every breath feeling heavier as you awaited her next move. “Jinx, please…” you murmured, half a plea and half a command.

“Patience,” she shot back playfully, her eyes sparkling with delight as she pulled back slightly to tease you. “I promise, it’ll be worth the wait.”

With a determined look, she finally kissed you where you needed it the most, her mouth immediately sucking your clit, just as you did with her, each gentle touch eliciting gasps that echoed in the quiet room. She took her time, savoring every reaction you gave her, her confidence radiating as she explored what made you tick.

“God, you’re amazing,” you breathed, lost in the sensations she was creating. You could feel the warmth pooling deep inside you, the tension building to an almost unbearable level. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” she replied with a soft chuckle, the sound sending shivers down your spine. As she licked and flicked her tongue on your pussy, making you feel an overwhelming rush of pleasure, your body responded instinctively as you melted into her.

Every movement was filled with a playful urgency, and you tangled your fingers in her hair, guiding her as she navigated the sensitive areas with expert precision. The world around you faded, leaving only the two of you and the blissful connection that deepened with every moment.

“Jinx,” you gasped, feeling the tension building to a breaking point. “I’m so close…”

“Let go, toots,” she murmured, her voice low and encouraging. “I’ve got you.”

With her words echoing in your mind, you surrendered to the waves of pleasure that crashed over you. Your body responded eagerly, a rush of bliss that left you breathless as you found release, each wave washing away any lingering doubts or worries.

Jinx held you close, her movements slowing as she savored every moment, every reaction. As you came down from the high, she pressed gentle kisses along your thighs, your skin still tingling from the intensity of it all.

Your heart racing as you pulled her up to you, wanting to feel her warmth enveloping you once again. “You really are incredible.”

Jinx’s smile was radiant, her eyes sparkling with delight. “I aim to please,” she quoted you, her voice teasing yet filled with affection. “So, what do you think about these relationship benefits now?”

You laughed, pulling her in for a kiss, savoring the taste of her lips and the lingering sweetness of your shared moments. “I think they might just be my favorite thing about us.”

She grinned against your mouth, her playful energy infectious. “Good, because I’m not done exploring all the benefits yet.”

And as you both settled back under the covers, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble of warmth, laughter, and love. Just like it was always meant to be.

[iomoru]

Hihihihihihi this is my first request in tumblr☺️

Could I ask for wanderer x reader as pucca and garu (pls don't feel too pressured to write its jst a silly request)

Chasing Clouds

A/n: ofc anon! I'm really sorry for the late reply I didn't notice because there were so many people that kept liking/reblogging my other posts, plus I was very busy with school work too (school is so stressing I might just jump off somewhere ngl)

Genre: Canon! Verse (?), Garu! Wanderer x Pucca! Reader, G!n Reader!, Fluff, Flustered Wanderer, Tall! Reader, Sunshine x Grumpy Trope, Reader is a few inches taller than Wanderer, Scara is called Wanderer, Second Person, Proofread

Summary: You're head over heels for Wanderer, constantly chasing him around Sumeru with boundless energy and affection. Despite his attempts to escape and his grumpy attitude, you never back down, determined to win him over. After catching up to him, you give him a tight hug and a quick kiss on the cheek, leaving him flustered and speechless—much to your delight.

Sumeru’s busy streets were no obstacle for you. Ducking and weaving through the crowd, you had one target in sight, your grin widening as the person ahead of you quickened their pace. Wanderer might’ve been faster, but you always enjoyed the thrill of the chase.

"Wanderer!" you called, a teasing lilt in your voice.

The sound of your voice cut through the din, and you caught a glimpse of him tensing, his head snapping forward like he hadn’t heard you. He picked up speed, and you bit your lip to stifle a laugh. This little game of his never got old.

Determined, you matched his pace, slipping past confused merchants and scholars who stared after you with wide eyes. You couldn’t blame them—there was something ridiculous about watching someone so desperate to escape you.

"You’re not getting away that easily!" you called out, amusement ringing in your tone.

Wanderer glanced over his shoulder, his glare sharp as ever. "Why do you keep following me?" he snapped, though the frustration in his voice only made you more amused.

You kept your eyes trained on him, enjoying the slight challenge as he darted down an alleyway. For a moment, he disappeared from view. But you knew him well enough by now. With a grin, you took a shortcut, climbing up a stack of crates and bounding onto a nearby rooftop with ease. The familiar weight of your vision glowed faintly as you leaped down and landed smoothly in front of him, cutting off his escape.

He came to an abrupt stop, nearly colliding with you as you stood tall in his path. His eyes widened for a split second before narrowing again, irritation flaring in his expression. "You again?" he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest in that characteristic way that made him look more like he was pouting than actually angry.

"Missed me?" you asked playfully, leaning in just enough to see his frown deepen.

Wanderer’s eye twitched. "Do you ever get tired?" he muttered, his gaze flicking up toward the sky as if asking for patience from whatever higher power might be listening.

You shrugged, completely unbothered by his tone. "Not when it comes to you."

He groaned, the sound low and drawn out, like he was truly suffering through some kind of endless torment. "Why do you insist on bothering me? Haven’t you got anything better to do?"

"Maybe." You beamed at him, rocking on your heels. "But this is much more fun."

His response was a scowl. You’d grown used to that look by now. His arms stayed crossed, his body tensed, clearly prepared to dodge or bolt if you tried anything. Not that it mattered. He could never outrun you, and you both knew it.

With a quick step forward, you closed the gap between you two and, without warning, wrapped your arms around his waist in a tight, affectionate hug.

"W-What are you—?!" he stammered, going rigid in your arms. You could practically feel his soul leaving his body in sheer disbelief.

"Just showing some love!" you said brightly, completely ignoring the look of horror on his face. "You should get used to it by now."

"Let go!" he hissed, trying to pry your arms off with little success. His attempts only made you hug him tighter, grinning into his chest.

"Nope!" you replied, savoring the warmth of being so close to him, even if he looked like he was ready to burst into flames from sheer embarrassment.

"You're impossible," he muttered, though the heat in his voice had ebbed into something more resigned. Wanderer’s hand twitched, as if debating whether to push you off more forcefully, but you could tell he wouldn’t.

"And you're wonderful," you chimed, leaning your head on his shoulder for a moment, letting the affection settle between you.

He stiffened again, his gaze averting from yours as if he could pretend this wasn’t happening. "You’re insane," he muttered under his breath, though the usual sharpness of his tone was gone, replaced with a quiet, defeated sigh.

You just smiled, not minding his comments at all. With a playful hum, you decided it was time to pull away—at least for now. Wanderer looked visibly relieved when you finally let go of him, though the slight flush on his face was unmistakable.

You leaned forward before he could react, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. It was so fast he barely had time to process it, his body freezing up the moment your lips made contact.

The look of pure, unfiltered shock on his face was priceless. His eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing as if trying to form words but failing completely. The tips of his ears turned red, and you had to stifle a laugh.

"See you later!" you chirped, turning on your heel and taking off before he could recover.

Wanderer stood frozen for a long moment, his hand slowly rising to touch his cheek where you’d kissed him. His face remained flushed, his expression torn between disbelief and frustration. But deep down, somewhere behind the layers of annoyance, there was a flicker of something softer.

Not that he would ever admit it.

A/n: Requests are closed now again, I only did this one bc I didn't really notice it plus it's prolly stuck in my inbox for a long time now

© ²⁰²⁴ ɪᴏᴍᴏʀᴜ ✰ do not repost, translate, plagiarize, use to train ai, or share my work on other social media platforms.

[nipuni]

Hello! Time for another blog post! I think my last one was two months ago and a lot has happened since 😊

We have been attending a ton of historical recreation events so I still have many photos to share, hope you don't hate those! It's been really fun! We are exhausted and all out of social battery however so we are taking it easy this month. Another thing that's been happening a lot is that even when we are not dressed in historical clothing we keep getting stopped by strangers on the street because of our everyday outfits, it's been like that for a couple of years now so we are no longer startled or nervous about it but it's happening more and more often now and it's so nice! we always end up chatting about the events we go to and our jobs and hobbies and exchanging contacts or they ask for photos and stuff! people are really kind and excited about it and I still find it so surprising in the best way. We grew up in a very hostile city and environment and that makes you paranoid and cynical so these interactions and response has been healing really. I know their words will stick with us for years to come 😭 Sadly the unbearable heat is starting though so that means our outings for the next three months will be limited to the crack of dawn and after sunset 😞 but at least the summer brings a lot of fruit with it so we can sit at home and eat pineapples and strawberries while we wait for autumn.

My family came to visit a few months ago too and we made them watch most of Doctor Who's season one to four and some of our favourite episodes from all the other seasons lmao. And much to our delight they really enjoyed it!! They both loved Ten the most and my step dad is now in love with Martha 🥰

We have also been watching the current season and it's been so fun keeping up with fandom theories in real time and talking about it and speculating with friends in person, it's the first time we get a chance to do it since we got into the series and we are enjoying it a lot!

We also watched season one of Jessica Jones and we loved David's performance as Kilgrave!! He stole the show for real. Kilgrave is such an incredible villain, one of the best I've seen and DT does such an amazing job portraying every aspect of him. He's detestable and volatile and frighteningly powerful and has such an intimidating terrifying presence in the narrative while also being pathetic and vulnerable and ridiculous and childish and so human with all it's worrying implications. It was just so gripping and I wish he had stayed for the rest of the show honestly!! Now we have to pick our next David Tennant series to watch! 😊

Also!! Dragon Age is back!! AHHH I wanted to thank everyone that commented on my last DA pieces, it has made my month to read the comments, I didn't expect so many people to remember my art or my character after so many years and it's so touching and flattering you have no idea 😭💘 I look forward to making more and sharing them with you all, I'm truly grateful for the kindness you've shown me both back then and now I hope you know.

I feel so spoiled lately with all these franchises that I love releasing new content!! I've never been in these many fandoms at once!! I have so many ideas to draw and keep jumping back and forth between drawings from different shows and games AAAAA it's a good and welcome change honestly, keeps me busy and inspired!

Anyway that's all for now I think! I hope you are doing well and this summer/winter is kind to you all ❤️

[yxngbxkkie]

secrets (b.c)

the seventh installment of my skz street racing series! i'm in complete awe that it's coming to a close. a part of me didn't think i would've been able to finish it! anyway, i do hope you guys enjoy this 🩷

feedback is greatly appreciated 🥰

You tap your fingers against the kitchen table as you wait for your best friend to arrive. The food you ordered is beginning to get cold, a frown etching onto your lips. You release a sigh and reach for your phone, checking for any messages from Chan.

“This is getting ridiculous,” you mumble to yourself after seeing no texts from him. You press your lips together before deciding to put the food away.

For the past three weeks, you've been desperately trying to hang out with Chan. And every time you plan something, it never works out.

After putting the food you bought for Chan away, you grab your tray of sushi before heading into the living room. You get comfortable on the couch and slip your phone out of your pocket.

You pull up Felix's contact and press the call button. You put it on speaker phone, listening to the ringing while stuffing a piece of sushi into your mouth.

“Hey, Y/N,” Felix greets you, hearing the cheeriness in his voice.

“Hi, Lixie,” you chuckle while setting your food down. “Can I ask you something?”

You can hear him shuffling around on the other end, waiting for him to answer. “Yeah, of course. What's up?” Felix asks as the background noise on his end stops.

“Do you happen to know what's been going on with Chan?” You question, casting your gaze to the floor. Before Felix is able to answer, you continue your rant. “I've been trying to hang out with him for three weeks, and he hasn't shown up to a single one. I'm just… worried that I've done something to upset him.”

Felix sighs, and you can feel your heart pound against your chest. “It's not my place to say,” he ends up telling you.

Your chest clenches at his answer, and you swallow the lump in your throat. “Okay,” you whisper, clearing your throat.

“Just know that it's nothing to do with you, okay? Channie adores you,” Felix reassures you.

Tears pool in your eyes as you try to believe what he's telling you. “Thanks anyway, Felix. I'll talk to you later,” you mention before bidding him goodbye.

You set your phone down and grab your sushi again, eating in silence. A couple of tears slip down your cheeks while you're eating. You furiously wipe them away and glance towards your phone.

You finish your tray of sushi, humming in delight before setting the empty dish onto the coffee table. You pick up your phone again and try to call Chan.

The phone rings and rings. Your breath hitches in your throat when he answers. “Y/N, hey, I'm a little busy --”

“You've been busy for a month, Chan,” you cut him off, your lip trembling. You sniffle, and you wipe the tip of your nose. “I-If you don't want to be friends anymore. I would prefer it if you told me.”

“Woah, woah, baby,” Chan’s pet name he calls you comes through the receiver, making your heart jump. “I don't not want to be friends anymore. I'm sorry I haven't really been around.”

“I just want an explanation, Channie,” you whisper into the phone, tucking some hair behind your ear.

Chan sighs as you wait for him to say something. “I'll explain everything soon, okay? I promise,” he tells you, causing you to scoff.

You shake your head, standing up from your spot. “You know what? Forget it,” you tell him before hanging up. You toss your phone onto the couch, gently biting the inside of your lip.

After taking a minute to calm yourself down, you grab your trash from the coffee table and bring it into the kitchen. You clean up your mess, and you try to distract yourself from what just happened.

~

It's been two weeks since the incident with Chan, and you've made no attempt to reach out to him. If he's not going to put any effort into your friendship, then you're not going to either.

Hyunjin walks you back to your apartment, balancing the various shopping bags in your hands. “Thanks for coming with me today,” you smile at him, appreciating the company.

He takes the bags from you, noticing your struggle to grab your apartment keys. You thank him and rummage through your purse, grabbing your keys.

“It's not a problem, Y/N. We haven't hung out in a while,” Hyunjin mentions while shrugging his shoulders.

His words remind you of your situation with Chan, making the smile slip from your lips. “At least you've made the effort,” you say bitterly, unlocking your door.

You take your bags from Hyunjin and walk into your apartment. He follows closely behind you, shutting the door behind him. “I know you don't want to hear this, but Chan's got a reason for all of this,” he defends his friend, plopping himself on your couch.

“What reason could he provide?” You ask him, slapping your hands against your thighs. “He's had over a month to explain, and he hasn't. Clearly, I'm not that important to him.”

Hyunjin sighs and holds a hand out to you. You take his hand in yours, and he squeezes it gently before making you sit beside him. “It's not my place to tell, but I want you to promise me to hear him out when he decides to explain, okay?” He shakes your hand in his, his thumb stroking the back of your palm. “Promise me.”

You stare into his eyes for about a minute, internally debating on whether it'd be worth it or not. A sigh leaves your lips, and you nod your head yes. “I promise,” you whisper, giving Hyunjin a small smile.

A knock on your door makes both of you turn your heads. Your eyebrows furrow as you're not expecting anyone to drop by. You and Hyunjin stand up before walking towards your apartment door.

“I should get going. I'll see you later, alright?” He pats your shoulder while opening the door.

Chan stands on the other side with a bouquet in his hands. His eyes widen, and he takes a step back as Hyunjin leaves. His younger member pats him as well before leaving the two of you alone.

“Hi,” he greets you with a soft smile, holding out the roses. “I, uhm, I got you these.”

Your cheeks blush, grabbing the bouquet from his hands. “T-Thank you,” you clear your throat. Silence fills the space between you as you keep your gaze on the flowers.

“I'm sorry,” Chan pipes up, making you lift your head. He scratches the back of his neck, and you notice the nervousness in his eyes. “I should've told you what's been going on.”

“Chan,” you sigh, combing your fingers through your hair. “I don't want to talk about this. I know we're best friends, and you have every right to keep secrets from me-”

The brunette pushes his way into your apartment, shutting the door behind him before resting his hands on your arms. “Y/N, please listen to me,” he begs, squeezing your biceps. “I know I've been a shitty friend, but I promise that what I've been doing has a point.”

You bite your lip, peeling some of the dry skin off of it, and nod for him to continue. You lead Chan into your kitchen, setting the roses he bought into a vase.

“I've been working extra to build up some money,” Chan starts while leaning against the counter. You furrow your brows in confusion, and he grabs a hold of your hand quickly. “Not from the job I have now, but something else.”

“Is it illegal?” You whisper, your anger towards him turning into worry.

His eyes drop to your conjoined hands, feeling him squeeze it. “It's not drugs or anything,” he clears up, which makes you feel a little better. “But, it's still illegal.”

“Can you stop being so cryptic?” You ask him, taking a step towards him. “You're making me worried.”

Chan laughs and nods his head. “Why don't I show you? I promise you that it's not totally bad,” he offers, tugging you towards your door.

“Fine,” you cave in, allowing the man to drag you out of your apartment.

~

Your eyes widen when Chan pulls into a filled parking lot. Many sports cars are on display as groups of people are huddled around each one. “Well, this explains why he has a sports car,” You think to yourself.

“This is what you've been doing?” You ask him as he parks in a spot. “Street racing?”

Chan nods his head while turning the vehicle off. He keeps his neon lights on before turning to look at you. “Yeah. This is where I've been. Uhm, I've been competing in these races, and I'm pretty good,” he chuckles nervously. “If you win, they give you a cash prize of three hundred thousand.”

“Holy shit,” you mumble loud enough for him to hear.

“I wanted to get enough to take you on a trip,” he confesses to you and his cheeks blush, glad that it's dark outside.

Your breath hitches in your throat, staring into his dark eyes. “Really?” You whisper, your heart pounding against your chest.

Chan reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “Yeah,” he mumbles while stroking the back of your hand. “I wanted to take you to Jeju Island and confess my feelings for you.”

A gasp leaves your lips, your free hand covering your mouth. “Channie,” you tear up, squeezing his hand. “Oh, God. I'm sorry. I-I shouldn't have acted the way I did.”

“It's okay. You reacted in a way that anyone else would've. Especially after I abandoned our hangouts. I should've told you sooner, but I really wanted to surprise you,” he mentions, pressing a kiss to your conjoined hands.

You reach your hand out, resting it on Chan's cheek. His gaze meets yours, and you see the admiration in his eyes. You smile softly before leaning in to kiss his lips. Your thumb strokes his cheekbone as he kisses you back, deepening it instantly.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips after pulling back slightly. “I'm sorry.”

You shake your head, bringing your hand to his hair. “It's okay. It's behind us now,” you reassure him, resting your forehead on his. “I love you too, Channie.”

He smiles ear to ear, laying one more kiss on you before speaking again. “This is the last race I need to win. You wanna be my good luck charm?” He asks you, his smile turning into a smirk.

You blush at his words but nod your head nonetheless. “Of course I do. But, you don't need a good luck charm if you've already won the others,” you tease, biting your bottom lip.

“Well, maybe I'll need you for this one.”

Chan pulls his vehicle up to the starting line, revving his engine a couple of times. A part of you is extremely nervous since you've never experienced a street race before.

His hand finds a place on your thigh before he gently grips it. “It'll be okay. You'll be safe,” he mentions.

You nod your head as a woman moves in front of the line of seven vehicles. Your hand grips the bar above the passenger door so hard that your knuckles are turning white.

The woman raises the green flag and waits a couple of seconds before dropping it. Chan shifts the gear stick and floors it. A short scream leaves your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut.

You can hear him chuckle beside you as he races the others around him. “You can open your eyes,” he tells you before drifting around a corner.

“Nope!” You squeal as you hold onto the bar tighter.

Chan continues to laugh as he speeds down the semi-empty streets of Seoul. You peek one eye open, and you notice no one in front of you. You release a deep breath and look behind you to see two vehicles not far behind.

“We're really in first?” You ask him, looking over at him.

“Of course,” he smirks, winking at you.

You playfully roll your eyes at how cocky he sounds, lightly slapping his arm. It doesn't take long for Chan to cross the finish line, and he instantly slows down after.

In celebration, Chan does a couple of donuts, and it causes you to release a scream. He laughs and drives into the parking lot, parking the vehicle.

Both of you pile out of the car as people begin to congratulate him. You giggle while watching him bro hug other racers. You walk towards the driver's side of the vehicle, people moving back so you can get through.

Chan smiles at you before picking you up in his arms. Both of you chuckle as he spins you around. Your arms wrap around his neck, dipping down to passionately kiss him.

Cheers and hollers become louder around the two of you. You pull away after thirty seconds, grinning widely. “I'm proud of you,” you whisper to him.

“It's all for you.”

~

tagging: @strawboorybunny @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @luckieleaf @stayconnecteed @tiaxa @yoonrimin @sunny-future @daysofskz-ateez @endzii23 @sweetbutpsychovalkyrie @bunnies-only @sleepyleeji @hhwangsmoon @emily505 @backintomykpopphaseagain

[valeriianz]

Thinking about how we, as a fandom, seemed to have forgotten the ridiculousness of the mistletoe tradition. Oh, to be kissed by a stranger under a parasitic plant in public! Why yes, sign Dream up.

Thinking about Hob decorating the New Inn for Christmas. Dream drops in unexpectedly (but certainly not unwelcome) as usual, curious to see Hob draping multicolored lights along the open shelves of liquor behind the bar.

“What are you doing, Hob?”

“What does it look like I'm doing?” and Hob would turn back to his work, and Dream would watch, fascinated. Listening to the cheery music playing through the speakers, listening to Hob speak of the centuries past, how the celebration of the Christmas holiday had been pretty steadily thus since the mid 1800’s.

“The pagan holiday?” Dream would inquire, dragging his fingers along the taped up holiday cards along the backsplash of the bar, like moth’s wings stuck out and on display. Some even transferring soft glitter on Dream’s fingers, making him rub them together curiously.

“Well,” Hob would shrug with a grin. “The Christian bastardization of it.”

“Hardly,” Dream mused. “The Romans celebrated Saturnalia in this time, honoring the god with a feast and gifts.”

“No foolin’, eh?”

And, since it was late and Hob was feeling good about the work he’d done, he’d pour Dream a glass of red and offer him a seat, both of them sitting at the bar and admiring the twinkling lights, the smell of pine from the fresh garland, the garish oversized stockings tacked to the walls, and– Dream noticed with puzzlement, a single bunch of berries and leathery leaves hanging from the ceiling in the middle of an archway.

“I do not recognize this.”

Hob followed his friend’s gaze and, “oh,” he’d laugh. But it sounds… off-kilter, nervous or embarrassed. 

“It’s mistletoe. Just this– parasitic plant–”

“Why does it have a bow on it?”

“For fun.” Hob would level Dream with a look like, lighten up. Get into the spirit.

“Elaborate.”

And Hob would hmm and haa about this relatively silly tradition about kissing under a mistletoe, how the “rule” had kind of faded away in the past decade or so, but it was still a fun little thing and Hob, ever the purveyor of all things dreadfully human, wants to keep the tradition alive, even if no one really follows along anymore.

And Dream, knowing full well he doesn’t need an excuse to kiss his immortal, very human partner, decides to humor Hob.

He slips from his seat, hearing Hob snicker from behind him, probably knowing full well what he’s about to do, and Dream walks to stand directly under the plant.

The bar is closed, no one else is in the building, but Hob looks around anyway, like there would be anyone else who would take advantage of this opportunity. Dream has to physically bite down a delighted smile as Hob shrugs– well if no one else will– and all but jumps from his stool, slowly walking toward Dream with his hands in his jeans’ pockets.

Without even touching Dream, Hob leans in and pecks him on the mouth.

Dream’s brows rise up to his hairline. “Is that it?”

“I’m afraid so, love.” He points up to the plant above them. "They don’t hang these in public places for full blown make out sessions, you know.”

“Hm…” Dream considers this, and decides if the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe only yields one chaste thing, then he’d have to start collecting them enough to make something substantial out of it.

Cue the ridiculous montage of Hob finding Dream in various locales, venues, anywhere he’s at (even at a holiday staff party) and in all manner of positions, under a mistletoe.

“Was that even there before?” Hob would ask, a red solo cup in his hand and smirking like a fool at the sight of Dream slouching against the wall, a– quite large actually– mistletoe dangling from the ceiling above his head.

“Does it matter?” Dream would counter and Hob would shrug, fair enough, and acquiesce to the plant’s demands. It was a Christmas tradition, after all.

Or Hob entering his office at work and finding Dream draped across his desk, holding a plastic mistletoe that looked like it was bought at a drug store high above his head.

Hob would take a few moments to stand and stare, enamored by this ridiculous creature.

“You know how much I love you?” It’s not what Hob meant to say, he was going to quip something about dramatic Endless and their need for attention, but he’s so gone over Dream that his mouth barely cooperates with his brain in these situations.

Dream would preen, stretching his long legs down so they dangle off the edge of the desk, like a cat sunning himself, shaking the plastic plant for emphasis. 

“You could show me.”

This is their new tradition, every Christmas season. Hob finds Dream everywhere in the waking world, distracting Hob, raising eyebrows, and starting up strange rumor mills. But it’s in the privacy of his own home, coming back from work, and finding Dream wailing desperately against the foyer of his kitchen, a planted mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, as usual. 

“Oh, Hob Gadling,” Dream would cast an arm over his eyes. “How I’ve waited for you to come back and free me from the spell these dreadful berries have put me under.”

“Okay,” Hob would grin, biting back a laugh. “Would a kiss suffice?”

Dream would be hanging off the wall, his long, rail thin limbs bent at every angle under faux duress. 

“Oh! It might do. I feel shackled under this strange power this greenery emanates.”

“Dream of the Endless,” Hob would tease, dropping his bag and taking off his coat as he walks to his impossible lover. “Brought down by a common earthly sprout.”

“Yes, yes, now will you get over here?” 

And once Hob is within arms reach, laughing hard enough to wheeze, Dream would grab him by the shoulders and pull him in.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

How would the M6 react to MC being drunk in front of them for the first time? The kind of drunk that changes MC's demeanor, and now they're all giggly and reckless

The Arcana HCs: M6 reacting to a drunk MC

~ I love this request. Also I know some of you are going to read this and wonder what the M6 are like when they get drunk, which is why I'll be reblogging the original creator's response to that question right after I post this! Love you guys - brainrot ~

- to set the scene-

It has been a very, very long Friday and you have never been more ready for the weekend. Unfortunately, by the time you make it back to your living space, you find a little note from your beloved apologizing because they're going to be back later than expected. You sigh, drop your bag onto the table, kick off your shoes and lean back to relax. You had picked up some spiked lemonade on your way back to try with them, but you figure a glass ahead of time wouldn't be too bad. You take a sip and are immediately disappointed by how little alcohol you can taste.

Half an hour and two large glasses later you can feel your head beginning to swim. Surely you aren't drunk, that stuff has next to nothing in it - until you check the label attached to the back and your eyes grow wide at the numbers you read. Just as the humor sets in and you begin to giggle you hear the door open.

"MC? I'm sorry I'm late ..."

Julian

Did he expect to come home to a drunk and giggling MC? No. Is he mad about it? Also no

He can't help it, the first thing he's trying to do is evaluate you. How drunk are you? Will he also be having a few drinks tonight or is he going to be staying sober so you can let loose?

He watches as you follow Malak around the house, trying to mimic his hoarse cawing

Water it is

Come to think of it, this is a fantastic chance to display his theatrical talents. He's always had a knack for comedy

You make one of the best audiences he's had in years. Even the jokes he doesn't deliver as well as he wants to are met with uncontrollable laughter

Will absolutely act out a comedy sketch in one of his stolen wigs, the plot getting increasingly ridiculous as he gets swept away in the moment

Will die of shame the next morning when you start quoting his amphibian-inspired Romeo and Juliette improv around the house:

"Forgive me, father frog, I got the warts from the toad. But how was I to resist him? His croaking was so passionate -"

Asra

When they opened the door and heard your giggles they knew it was a good night

And then he rounded the corner and saw your flushed face and lidded eyes and dopey smile and knew that you were apparently having a really good night

They're just pulling out a chair to pour themselves a drink too when they feel a draft and look up in time to see you marching out the back door

Now he's giggling as he jogs to catch up with you, wondering where on earth drunk you has decided to go at this time of night

The docks, apparently. Their story about Faust in the palace garden maze has inspired you to try the same thing

In the middle of the night

While you are not as sober as you should be to practice life-preserving magic

The problem is that Asra is your best/worst enabler, so if trespassing on the ships to jump off of their masts is what you want to do, then that's what the two of you are doing

Three, if you count Faust

You are absolutely going to get nauseated from all the floating and puke all over him

They had it coming for enabling you, but what they didn't see coming was you pulling them into the ocean for an impromptu bath

Nadia

She's never seen you so drunk before, normally when you drink with her it's at big dinners so you don't even get tipsy

She's wavering on how to respond. Should she partake in whatever delightful brew you've apparently smuggled into the palace?

Or should she dedicate herself to taking care of you instead?

Oh but now you're giggling and collapsing into her lap, asking her about her day -

She's telling you about this one meeting with a certain courtier and now you're interrupting her, arms flung wide as you go on a drunken rant about them

Well. She knew you tended to filter your thoughts in the palace, but she had no idea your opinions were this colorful. Or hilariously stated

Now she's reaching for the bottle of spiked lemonade and pouring you another glass. What other amusing judgments have you been hiding?

Muriel

Will spend the evening taking the most excellent care of you while she prompts you for more rants

Here, lie down in her lap, drink some water, let her give you a massage, and tell her more about your thoughts on the chamberlain's most recent outfit decision, and how it resembled a stoned flamingo

Happy to hear that you're happy, but a little unsure of how to proceed

Were you planning on getting drunk? Did something happen to make you want to get drunk?

Oh, the lemonade was stronger than expected? Ok

Wait no stop trying to climb him. He's not a tree. You're going to bump your head

Oh, now you're wondering outside and loudly singing. And Inanna's going with you because she thinks it's hilarious

He's enjoying this uninhibited side of you but he's concerned for your safety

And for the safety of all the natural wildlife that may encounter you in this state

Wait no don't climb that tree

When did you get so good at climbing trees? He's never even seen you try by yourself before and now you're a good twenty feet up???

Does he climb up after you? How will he convince you to come back down?

"... MC? If you come down, I'll cuddle you."

A moment of silence. Did it work?

All he hears is a faint "catch meee ..." from high above his head before you come hurtling down through the branches

He doesn't know how he survived all the heart attacks you gave him that night

Portia

Immediately inspecting whatever it is that got you so happy. She wants in on your secrets

Spiked lemonade? From that market stall? Haha, no wonder you're plastered

She'll have a little bit, but what she really wants to know is if you'll hear out her crazy ideas for your magic abilities

"MC? Is it possible to do magic while you're drunk?"

She's met with a lopsided grin and an unsteady flash of the funniest looking sparkles she's ever seen

Were those supposed to be ... in the shape of Pepi? Or a sea monster?

Oh, this is going to be so much fun

Takes you out into the garden because she needs to know if Cinderella's pumpkin coach can actually happen (one of her guilty reading pleasures)

You come up with some abomination consisting of several squash, a whole mess of vines, and one terrified rat

The two of you end up going on a joyride through the fields behind the palace, lurching violently in all directions

There is now a rumor of the menacing giggling cryptid that wanders through the fields at dusk, scattering chunks of ravaged gourd

Lucio

Party time? Party time!!

Already loudly praising your drinking habits as he starts gulping straight from the bottle

Maybe he would savor it normally, but you started without him so now he needs to catch up

He makes the same mistake you did, of not reading the label and assuming it was weak, and the bottle is empty in minutes

"You know MC, I'm kinda surprised something that weak got you that smashed ohhhhh wait a minute -"

He just stood up and is now swaying in place, startled by the headrush

And then he hears you snorting with laughter at yourself as you try to tell the worst dad joke he's ever heard

Normally at this point he'd be caught up in the frenzy of an out of control party, what's he supposed to do when it's just the two of you?

Except you told the punchline first, and then the beginning, but now you're kind of backtracking through the middle, and you're breathless with giggles, and he's laughing too

That's it, that's how the rest of the night goes, ruining all of your favorite jokes and laughing until you're nauseated and his mascara is streaming down his cheeks

[seedsofagony]

Hayride (KnY ♡ Tengen)

Cherrytober Day 26: Interrupted // Thigh Riding

Series: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Characters: Uzui Tengen

Word Count: 567

Summary: modern au, x reader (f), date night, mentions of horror elements, lap sitting, public indecency I guess, thigh riding

Notes: Hayride 👏 thigh ride 👏 ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Disclaimer: Underage, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked. For everyone 18+, FUB free or filter my unique tag for this event: #sweets🍒24

You grit your teeth, clutching the haybale, as the wagon manages to hit yet another pothole. It's supposed to be a haunted hayride, but it's more like a haunting hayride—you're going to have a hard time sitting for the rest of the night.

Not that you regret going. The whole thing is pretty hokey—bad costumes and unconvincing makeup—but you don't mind. For every jump scare, you get to clutch Tengen's arm. Or at least, you had been until you were forced to keep your body from rattling apart.

"Kind of rough, isn't it?" Tengen grimaces.

Completely ignoring the actor waving the chainsaw and the terrified-slash-delighted screams of the other riders, you return his pained smile. "Very."

"Want to sit on my lap?"

You clutch imaginary pearls in mock scandal. "You mean, in front of all these people?"

Tengen glances around the wagon—couples clinging to each other, a few others who are equally unimpressed and just making out. He smiles wryly, "I don't think anyone will notice."

"Or care," you agree.

Easing off the bale, you brush the hay off your behind before depositing yourself on Tengen's lap. At least, that was the plan until the wagon hit yet another bump, sending you flying into his arms with a surprised yelp.

"Upsy-daisy," Tengen grins as he pulls you onto his thigh. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you huff. "Who's driving this thing anyway?"

Tengen chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist. Still feeling a little ruffled, you sink back against his chest and try to enjoy the rest of the ride. A horde of stiff-legged zombies shambles after the wagon, waving plastic disembodied limbs. One of them is gnawing on a pink brain that looks more like a macabre dog toy—bruised ego (and butt) forgotten, you can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

You also can't help but notice that you have the best seat in the house. The rocking of the wagon that was so irritating moments before has an unexpected benefit—your hips sway with the movement, grinding your clit against Tengen's firm, well-muscled thigh.

A flush rises in your cheeks and your eyes dart around your surroundings. Tiki lights blaze on either side of the dirt path, casting flickering shadows in the darkness of the night. The man on the tractor pulling the wagon couldn't care less about what's going on behind him, and the other riders are completely engrossed in the scenes—zombies giving way to pumpkin-headed scarecrow monsters—or each other. No one is paying attention to you.

Playing it cool, you shift ever so slightly. Warmth blooms between your legs, the vibration of the wagon wheels over the gravel humming through Tengen's leg and against your clit. You shift again as if to reposition yourself, rubbing your quickly swelling bud against him. His hands tighten on your waist slightly, steadying you. It crosses your mind then that maybe he wouldn't appreciate you trying to get off in public, but his lips brush your ear.

"Having fun?" he purrs. He pushes your hips forward and pulls you back ever so slightly, dragging you over his thigh.

You laugh nervously at having been found out and echo your earlier question—this time, a little more earnest, "What, in front of all these people?"

Tengen pushes and pulls you again, camouflaged by the dancing shadows and the diversion of B-movie monsters. "I don't think anyone will notice."

[lionlena]

Dyeing your hair… (Joel Miller x reader) one shot

I just saw this photo and couldn't shake the silly thought of dying Joel's hair.

Summary: In an abandoned shop you found a box with men's hair dye.

Warnings: implied age gape, sweet Joel, just fluff, established relationship, just my silly idea

When you stuffed the dark men's hair dye you found in a ruined store into your backpack, you knew it was stupid. But you couldn't help yourself anyway. You just felt like a child who found a toy. Even tampons didn't make you this happy. When you rejoined Joel, he immediately sensed your mood. Not that he didn't enjoy your good mood. He loved you and hated when you were sad or hurt, but… When you had that… THAT smile on your face, he knew you were thinking of something ridiculous.

"What is that smile?"

You shrugged and shook your head.

"What smile? I'm just glad to see you."

"Yeah, of course…"

He walked up to you and looked at you carefully. He knew you were hiding something from him, but he also knew that sooner or later you would reveal it to him. He shook his head and gently brushed the hair away from your cheek. This tender gesture, even though so trivial, immediately made you feel loved. At times Joel could seem uncaring and harsh, but you knew his heart was soft to you.

"Let's go back home." He said and moved forward with his hand on the rifle.

You followed him happily, jumping up and down at the thought of what you were going to do. You weren't even that concerned about the danger. You always felt safe with Joel.

Once you were in your small, dingy apartment in Boston, you decided to show him your find.

Joel snorted at the sight of the box and frowned.

"What do you need this for?"

You smiled that way again and he subconsciously knew what was coming and grunted.

"NO."

"Oh, Joel."

"NO."

"But…"

"NO."

You pouted and crossed your arms over your chest. You looked at him with puppy eyes. You felt like you weren't defeated yet and you really, really wanted to see what Joel looked like when he was younger and his hair didn't have so many gray streaks.

"We'll do it for fun."

Joel rolled his eyes.

"Play cards for fun."

You moved closer to him and decided to change your tactics. You placed your hands on his chest.

"Jooo… Please, please, pretty please… Pleaseeee…"

You felt him soften as he looked down at you and swallowed.

"God, how old are you? 5?"

You didn't give up and slipped your hands under his shirt.

"We'll play your game later."

You knew you had hit a sweet spot when he placed his hands on your hips and squeezed lightly.

"You don't even know if it will work…"

"Hmm… We won't know if we don't use it."

You stood on your tiptoes and nibbled his beard with your teeth, making him growl.

"Fine!"

You giggled happily and pulled him towards the bathroom. You told him to sit on the toilet and started your work. Joel, of course, kept complaining that it was stupid and ridiculous… And so on, but you saw that little smile on his face because he knew he was making you happy. And he liked it when you were this close to him.

Forty minutes later you could admire your work.

And you were delighted! To you, Joel had always been handsome, but when his hair became darker, he looked so sexy. The dye didn't completely cover his gray hair, but the effect was still stunning. Joel noticed your gaze and smiled.

"How do I look? Are you satisfied?"

You grabbed his waistband and pulled him towards you.

"Satisfied is an understatement…"

Joel growled deeply and pulled you closer to him. He kissed you on the lips and when he pulled away he said:

"Good. Because now it's part of my fun."

He sat down on the couch and pulled you onto his lap, and you didn't resist at all. You grabbed his dark hair and moaned in pleasure. You knew you were in for a wild ride…

And you were already wondering if Joel would be persuaded to return to that abandoned store. You were sure there were two more packages of hair dye on the shelf. *

Permanentny tag list: @harriedandharassed

[frogchiro]

Am I straight horny from reading eremite thirst? Yes. Do I want to dress up in Babel's clothing infront of them? Yes. Yes I do. I mean Babel got some hip windows and I know damn well her clothes are MADE to he ripped off

AS YOU SHOULD BE NONNY

rfhgueguegu I just looked up Babel and good golly please step on me lady

and you're right her clothes are as hot as she is, i'm going genuinely feral for the hip windows, as would the men of your group <3

fem!reader, slight nsfw, the usual drill; hot, big and horny Eremite men having the ultimate hots for you <3

Since you're staying with them permanently now, you decided on incorporating their style and culture into your life and what better to begin with than clothes! You bought them from a traveling merchant during a short stay at the Caravan Ribat before continuing further into the desert.

You had to set up camp for the night and since there has been a successful hunt with minimal damage your boys decided that a small celebration is in place; you could swear that they'd find any excuse to celebrate and make you dance for them so that they could use it as a way to grope you and eventually drag you back into the tent an have their way with you.

SO, you decided that this little gathering is a perfect way to make use of your new dress! It's a bit skimpy but it feels as if it's weightless, the dark gauzy fabric perfectly accentuating your curves and hugging all the right places.

Just as you got the last piece in place, a booming voice just outside your tent made you slightly jump as one of the men announced that they've set up the fire and roast and they're waiting for you which earned you a few loud and excited whoops of delight from the others.

You smiled slightly and made your way to remove the flap of the tent and reveal yourself getting kinda anxious what would they say about your new outfit, would they like it? What if you ended up looking ridiculous and-

Your train of thoughts was immediately brought to a halt when you noticed all the men staring at you, their eye bandanas temporarily removed and looking-or rather leering-right at you.

You noticed the look right away; dark, hungry, lustful, that of predator just about to pounce on a unsuspecting prey. You got bashful as you slowly stepped into the area where they were sitting in silence still, just looking.

Before you could say something to get the out of this trance you let out a yelp as suddenly a pair of strong arms belonging to Geo Enchanter wrapped around your middle and dragged you straight into his lap while the men sitting next to him flocked closer and started to run their hands all over you.

"And just where did ya get this thing Little Lady, hmm~? Think you can just walk dressed like that and expect a man to behave?"

The dark skinned man growled into your ear before nipping it lightly and letting his big scarred hands wander all over your body and slip under the sheer chest piece to tease your quickly stiffening nipples.

"I-ah! I-bought it. From that cloth merchant back at the Caravan Ribat. Y-You were so silent when I walked out, I thought you didn't like it-!"

Your ramble was quickly cut short by a slight swat to your bottom and the booming laughs of the surrounding men; just when did they all get so close?

"Well, ya can be pretty sure we like it, don't we boys?", Sunfrost's quip was answered by delighted calls.

"Then let's show this pretty Lady how much we love it~"

That sentence basically sealed your fate and they took you right then and there, on the laid out on the furs under the shining stars and night sky. When they were finaly finished with you, you were back inside the shared tent, all of the men tired out and panting with fatigue.

Right there in the middle of the sweaty bodies laid your naked form, the beautiful dress torn to shreds earlier in the night by the hungry hands of the Eremites; a shame really, the dress really was pretty but hey! At least you can be sure that your boys liked it too, right~?

[thunder-point]

Cole I'm sorry but I suddenly remembered this super funny thing that maybe is only funny to ME AHSGH but like.

so there's this popular meme(?) from Mean Girls where they're all talking about Regina like yeah she's flawless she has two Fendi purses etc.- and then Bethany goes "one time she punched me in the face ... it was awesome."

now imagine (because I'm terrible at video meme-ing) Peem's friends describing Peem. YEAH Peem's a great artist, he's kind and pretty , yeah he's so patient and loving—and then there's Phum— "one time he kicked me in the balls...it was awesome."

if anyone is reading this ask and CAN make this into a thing, please do 😔🙏

i don't know how to edit, or to draw, i just know how to yap (badly at times) so i will try to do my best for you my beloved.

but -- reading this i imagined a whole scenario that is solely ridiculous and maybe tender.

so i will say it to you, and i hope it puts a smile on your face.

as always. IMAGINE:

they are at parkingtoys for a night of drinking. the whole extended squad. and phumpeem have been official for a few weeks. still in their third year of university. so the situation is as it goes:

there's a senior from year 4 that peem really, but really respects. like so much. and he's so shy around this guy, because his technique for painting water is literal perfection or something.

let's call him... Top. Alright.

So that evening Top spots their big table, namely spots Peem and Q, and comes to salute them and ask how it's going with exams or something. And listen, Peem's friends know how Peem gets around this guy. How he gushes about his skill. Q has tried to make Peem go and ask for his Instagram for a while now, just so they can talk about painting and Peem can tell Top directly how much he loves his work.

So as soon as Top comes in and Peem greets him with a lowered head, a bashful smile and shyness in his voice, his friends jump to action.

"It's going great," Q starts, draping a casual arm around Peem. "This guy here got his third A in a row. I think I might have a competition this year for the third-year student with straight As on exams."

"I'm glad to hear that." Top smiles, before he looks around. "I see you guys made some new friends, too."

"All Peem's fault!" Tan cuts in, too solemn for his words. "He's just so friendly, you know? He charmed everyone in Engineering."

"So charming," Pun slurs out with a nod, way beyond tipsy. "Such a good friend."

"Have you had the pleasure of being his friend, Top?" Chain asks nonchalantly, despite doing his best to keep Pun upright. "Just saying, he's a pretty talented guy. You guys could talk about paints. Or something."

"Guys," Peem groans behind his palm, barely able to peek a look at a very amused Top.

And Phum? Well, he's just very confused. Like, Fang, Beer and Mick are confused. But Phum is truly confused. Maybe because he's a bit tipsy, or because their friends sound like they are trying to hook Peem, his boyfriend, with this guy. He knows a bit about Top. Knows that Peem kind of idolizes him. But why did Pun have to mention that he's charming?

At this point, Phum kind of wants to yank Peem under his arm and keep him hidden from the world. But then Top says, "I would love to be his friend, of course." And Peem's eyes get those glittering, dancing delights in his eyes, and he's peering at Top like he's bringing him a foreign part of the world, and how could Phum deny his boyfriend of this happiness?

So he tries to help, tries to join the charade of chatting Peem up -- platonically, of course.

Key word, tries.

He makes obvious eye contact with Top, face earnest, and he declares, "One time he kicked me in the balls... It was awesome. He's awesome."

Top blinks.

The table goes quiet, stupefied, except for Peem, who chokes on the drink he was having at that moment. He sputters the drink onto the table, and Phum immediately cups his cheeks to check if he's okay.

"Phum," Peem croaks, lips shiny with liquid and spit and eyes incredulous. "You can't just- Can't just say-"

At that point, Q and Chain begin to guffaw so hard Pun falls because of it, no longer supported by Chain. Tan is hiding his face behind a very amused Fang.

"What?" Phum mumbles, and then he throws his head back to give Top a frowny glance. "But he is awesome, even when he's angry. Trust me. Doesn't even matter that I went to the hospital because of-"

"Phum," Peem groans, hands trying desperately to cover Phum's mouth, to bring his head back. Phum is still babbling a bit. Just a bit. Because he needs to let this guy know just how awesome his boyfriend is. But then nimble fingers push into his lips and Peem murmurs, "Baby, that's enough. C'mere."

And Phum- Well. He flushes quicker than one can blink, before he buries his face in Peem's neck, who makes an endeared oof, despite embarrassment still coursing through him.

"And now he's shy," Q snorts. "Jesus fuck, Peem. Your boyfriend is something else.

It's that Peem rarely calls him baby in public, okay? And maybe he's more than a bit tipsy.

He hears Top say, "I didn't know you were in a relationship."

Phum makes sure to turn around just enough to give Top a look, before he says, "He is. Only I can get kicked in the balls by him, get it-"

Peem shoves Phum's face back in his neck with a choked-up sound, "I think we need to go. Enough alcohol for you."

Phum lets out a soft sound, arms coming around Peem's dainty waist. He nuzzles his collarbone. "Whatever you want, baby."

AAAND YEAH. JUST. Just endearment. I hope this was a fun read for you, alan

[crownedghostprince]

"Please, rest your eyes with me.."

Loki x Stressed!Reader

Fandom: Marvel

(Y/N) had been working very long hours after being given a co-worker's workload for the week on top of her own work. Presentations, emails to important clients and sponsors, meetings, reports and all of that again, but for her sick co-worker. It's been a couple of days. No sleep, small and nutritious meals, and too many phone calls. Loki grew concerned with his lover and decided to make sure they finally rested for the night.

Requests: Closed. Requested: no.

Warning(s): Overly sweet. Pure fluff, no smut. There's a bathing together scene, but it's fluff. I repeat: fluff <3

Note: Reader is a woman :)

Word Count: 1,509

[Third Person Perspective]

(I couldn't find a source for this on Pinterest. But his expression is fantastic <3)

The sound of tapping and clicking was Loki's usual ambiance for the past couple of days now. Well, to be more specific, it was the sound of keyboard typing. His beautiful girlfriend had been working hard with no sleep and terrible take-out meals for a couple of days and Loki had been too busy to fully realize until now. The hard-work his significant other was putting in had simply been background ambiance as he darted back and forth between rooms trying to help Stark organize another party whilst Stark was actively fighting with Rogers.

So Loki being the newest Avenger was forced to run back and forth, helping the two to plan the party without a huge argument. This also meant that Loki had to keep the peace, write lists of different things both 'manchilds' wanted at the party, do some decoration planning with Natasha and keep his promise to Thor by spending an afternoon in town together. The past two days had been hectic, but Loki managed to survive - albeit very tiredly. Now he finally had a chance to settle down and enjoy a nice rest day. Except...he couldn't relax.

He had hoped his lover would take a few ten minute breaks here and there. Maybe take a break whilst eating. Perhaps not take her phone to the bathroom to continue working. Not only to have a small minute break, but for hygienic reasons as well. Loki made a mental note to carefully wipe over her phone later. Sadly, (Y/N) continued to work hard at her laptop, typing up presentations and then jumping to answer emails and then jumping back to the presentation. Yesterday, Stark said she had done a very long report on the many benefits of a small coffee shop that connects to the office.

Something as ridiculous as that seemed unbelievable to Loki. But considering how some midguardians loved their useless work and fancy little reports, he eventually believed Stark wasn't lying. To Loki it was simple: if a major corporation wanted a tiny, cheap, coffee shop? Then they would just build it with their vast amounts of money and make that quick profit. But according to Stark those mortals loved making sponsors pay for it instead. Millionaires that kept the business from using their own money on literally anything.

Millionaires that needed to be persuaded into putting a couple thousand dollars into a small project by fancy looking graphs, reports and who knows what else. Gosh, just sitting there thinking about all that had given him a headache. He checked the time and decided that 10:00pm was far too late for (Y/N) to be working. Loki stood up, stretched his aching arms a bit and headed straight to the kitchen. If his darling angel wasn't going to finish work and rest on her own, he would make her.

Loki made two very sweet, hot cups of tea, grabbed an advil and sat in front of (Y/N). "Here you go, my love. You've been working for so many hours you missed dinner tonight." He spoke softly.

"Oh, wow. The time sure went by fast." (Y/N) sighed out, stretching her arms a bit and accepting the much needed cup of tea. "Thank-you, Loki. This is delicious." She smiled and visibly relaxed from the soothing sweetness.

"I'm delighted to hear that. I was going to play some music and enjoy a nice bath. Would you please join me? I dearly miss your company." Loki did his best to sound suave and inviting in hopes (Y/N) would accept rather than work more. He just needed to get her away from the laptop for some rest for at least one night. At her current rate, she'd just faint from exhaustion and run herself into the ground and Loki wanted desperately to avoid that.

"Oh, Loki. You know I would love to join you, but I've got so much work right now...I don't know if I can afford to spend time away from these slides." She strained her eyes to look back at the blaring screen. She didn't even have a blue light filter on...or dark mode...she could be so silly sometimes. But Loki smiled fondly.

"Just for a few minutes, darling? Please? For me?" He tucked some strands of hair out of her face and met her gaze with a pout she couldn't say 'no' to.

"Oh...alright, you and your adorable face..." She sighed in defeat, "Just let me fix this up and save this and I'll join you." She returned to the screen one more time and Loki watched the clock with a mental timer of five minutes. He moved quickly and got the bath ready with warm water, a sleepy scented candle, he changed the bathroom light to a soft orange and grabbed the softest cloth he could find in the bathroom. Finally, he turned on (Y/N)'s favourite, calm songs and played them on low from a speaker in the bathroom.

Next, he went to her room and pulled out her most comfortable t-shirt and pants, grabbing her towel as well and then headed back to the bathroom after grabbing his own things. He returned after five minutes of setting up the bath and tapped her on the shoulder. "It's been five minutes, please finish that last graph and save, darling. The bath is ready and warm."

"Oh, already? Alright, I'll finish this and save." She promised. She worked on the graph for another minute and once it was finished Loki quickly intervened before she could move onto another unfinished graph. He gently placed his hand over hers, gaining back her attention, and he slowly dragged the cursor to the save icon before minimizing the screen.

"Come, darling. Let's get you into some nice clean clothes that will hopefully be more comfortable than your work attire." (Y/N) stared up at him before slowly registering what he said and finally looking down at her clothing. She had completely forgotten she was even in her work clothes still. She simply nodded and followed Loki to the bathroom for what she thought would be a quick bath and then back to work. But Loki had other plans: making sure she slept.

His plan went exactly as he had expected. The soft, orange light would help her brain wind down from the constant blue light that definitely disrupted her brain's sleeping pattern. The soft music she would play to fall asleep with, the sweet tea settling in her stomach, the warm bath water and the sweet scented candle. He made sure to scrub the soap in gently and take his time.

She leaned back against him and sighed against his chest, feeling sore from sitting hunched over, but overall she was relaxed. Her eyes grew heavy and harder to keep open until they slowly drifted shut. Loki carefully carried her out of the water and wrapped her up in her fluffy towel whilst he drained the bath water and made sure to tidy everything up. She was still awake, desperately fighting sleep so she could get back to work. But her body wouldn't cooperate. She was exhausted.

Loki finished drying her and helped her dress. He brushed her hair back into a neat plait and made sure she brushed her teeth. He washed up as well and then lead her to the bedroom for a good night's rest. At this point, she was too tired to fight back. But she still attempted. "No....Loki..." She whined. "I have to get back to work now..." She groaned.

"Please, rest your eyes with me..." Loki hushed her stubbornness. "...Just for a few minutes, love. For me?"

"Fine...like...five minutes.." She groaned and stumbled into bed, almost falling asleep immediately.

"Thank-you, love. I've missed your company." Loki laid down beside her and pulled the covers up, turning on some rainy ambiance and pulling her into a cuddle - spooning her with an arm draped across her waist.

Hearing a soft groan and sigh, he smiled and kissed the top of her head. His plan was successful and he felt very proud of his lover for being such a hard-worker. He also felt very proud of himself for remembering how to help a mortal unwind after a long day. The orange light and soft music was all Stark's advice when Loki had first started dating (Y/N). Apparently midguardians brains worked slightly differently to Asgardians, and needed help to slow down to sleep.

Once soft snores and little bits of strange sleep talk drifted from his lover, he knew she was fast asleep. He finally allowed himself to sleep for the night as well. "Goodnight, love." He whispered, half asleep. "I love you."

"...Love you...too..." She spoke back - still dead asleep. Talking in one's sleep was still an interesting phenomenon to Loki, but he'll have to ask about that at some other time. For now, he was quite content to just cuddle his lover and drift off into sweet dreams.

[aurorawest]

I finished The Mars House last night and have been trying to gather my thoughts beyond ADJFAWEHDHA; and AHHHHHHHH. Let's see how this works out.

In a lot of ways this is a pretty typical Natasha Pulley book, which makes you love complicated people who have done bad things, possibly for good reasons and possibly not. The love interest is to all appearances a xenophobic nationalist, but you better believe I loved Gale pretty much immediately.

In other ways this book is different from her past work—obviously there's the far future setting, but it's pretty clear that Pulley wanted to Say Something about gender with The Mars House. This book is a response to and shots fired at the terf ideology and it is not at all subtle about it. And of course, it's a Natasha Pulley book, so there's still empathy for the far-future Martian terfs.

So I would definitely call it the most...political? of her books, which for me was not at all a bad thing. It has everything that I love about Pulley novels—her gorgeous use of language, her ability to wring beauty and pathos out of the small and ordinary, the gay pining, the morally dubious main characters. I've seen reviews say both that the science is ridiculous and that the book is hard science fiction, and I would come down on the side of the science probably being a bit ridiculous, since it's definitely not hard science fiction (lol at the reviewers who are throwing that term around and not knowing what it means). I actually have no idea if the science is plausible or not and I honestly don't care, because that's really not the point of the book.

Anyway, now I'm just going to list things. Doing a read more for spoilers! And I'm not joking, I'm going to spoil the whole book under here so really, if you haven't read it and you care about that, don't keep reading.

The worldbuilding was so good. I mean, this is one of Pulley's strengths, but I had wondered how it would stack up in a sci fi novel versus her historical fiction. As usual, everything was so visceral and textured. Tharsis and Songshu feel like real places I could visit.

THE MAMMOTHS OMG OMG. When they decided to ask the mammoths for help pulling up the gravity train, I almost jumped up from the couch yelling (I would have, but I couldn't disturb my cat who was on my legs). The entire idea of communicating with mammoths and studying mammoth society almost made me cry. Having spent even a tiny amount of time around elephants in the wild, all of that rang 100% plausible. And true in my heart.

I need a sequel where River and January go to Alpha Centauri to talk to the aliens that the Penglai mission is going to find there.

I'M ABOUT TO SPOIL THE ENTIRE BOOK SO DON'T READ ANYMORE IF YOU DON'T WANT THAT.

Speaking of River, yeah I guessed that "Aubrey" was actually River. The clues were well done and I felt smug when I was right.

But!! I actually thought River knew more than they did! A literal chill went up my back when River revealed they had NO IDEA AUBREY WAS LITERALLY IN THEIR ROOM WITH THEM.

The scene in River's bathtub had me screaming crying throwing up.

Is Natasha Pulley working through something re: waifish orphans? I knew Yuan was going to end up being adopted into House Song within pages of their (his?) introduction.

I love that we never find out if River is biologically male or female. I love that January says it doesn't matter and he means that and never tells us.

Speaking of gender abolition, can I have that please for myself.

All of the animals were, as always, a delight. Shoutout to the puffin at the beginning who we never see again, as well as Shuppiluliuma in her basket.

The ancient Mediterranean references littered through this book (see above) were also a delight.

When you think about it, both of Aubrey's consorts fell for River, and that's funny.

The flashes of love between River and Aubrey were devastating.

The haptic implants are a dystopian nightmare and absolutely a realistic prediction of where we're going to end up.

Mori and Daughter!!

[andrastesgrace]

Mara Jade + tooka cats

There are two Luke Skywalkers.

The farmboy-turned-flyboy in him is a crack shot, can diagnose a problem with her ship faster than any mechanic in the core, and is wickedly funny, when he wants to be. When he remembers he can be.

The Jedi, though - the one who is allergic to colors and smiling, the one who has apparently forgotten that he isn't even thirty years old yet - is a gifted mediator, a skilled warrior, and much to Mara's eternal annoyance, usually right.

He's also a little shit. She'd almost jumped out of her skin last week in her Coruscant docking bay when he just. Appeared. Behind her. Wearing that stupid passive expression and looking at her expectantly, as though she shouldn't have sworn in three languages and nearly sliced him in half with his own father's lightsaber.

"If only someone were willing to train you," he said with a completely straight face. "You might've seen that coming."

Mara called him a bastard, then, and he grinned. She threw a spanner at his head for good measure, but he just stepped aside and asked her if she was hungry.

They ate ribenes from a cart in the lower city, and didn't talk about his thinly veiled request.

He asks less, now, and she's not sure if she's relieved or disappointed. Since the beginning, he's always asked, even back when she wasn't sure if she still wanted to kill him or not. But now, as then, she's wary. Not of him, not really. She's run through every scenario in her head, and she doesn't really think he'd ever truly become a danger. But he also doesn't want to listen to her, either, when she suggests that perhaps, some Jedi teachings of the past should stay in the past.

Deep down, there's something that makes her uncomfortable about the way he can just. Switch off his entire personality like the press of a button. He would never hurt her, but sometimes he isn't him.

So instead of becoming his student, she devotes her time to becoming a pain in his ass. Annoying him is the quickest way to shake him out of it. At first it's just little things - mispronouncing the names of famous podracers, putting pepper in his tea, and once, conspiring with R2-D2 to play nothing but Nemoidian showtunes everywhere he went.

"You're doing this on purpose," he says blithely one afternoon, and she looks at him with an innocent. "Who me?" in her expression. After a while, she needs more ammunition. She means to ask Solo, but when she hunts down the office he never uses in the New Republic's shiny new military complex, Leia is there instead. "Tooka cats," says Leia after she explains her mission.

"Tooka cats?" "He can't even look at them without laughing," The corners of her lips turn up in a half-smile. "Something about the eyes." *** "Are you proud of yourself?" he says when she sees him later, the grin still lingering in his eyes as he lets himself onto the Jade's Fire.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She does. She watched it on the holos, the emergency channel on his datapad pinging as he stood in the background of some very important New Republic something-or-other. The first time, he managed to keep a straight face, but only just. But she didn't just have one. She wasn't an amateur. All in all, she sent him about thirty of the most ridiculous pictures of tooka cats that she could possibly find. They were naturally funny looking creatures - a little too creepy for her taste, with their beady eyes and claws, but something about them made Skywalker take one look at them and forget he was a Jedi at all. The sight of him bursting into giggles on live broadcast while Mon Mothma was trying to give a Very Important Speech is going to keep her going for *years.*

"You're a menace," he says, dropping down next to her where she's examining her ship's tractor beam manifold. Thing's been malfunctioning for months.

"I'm a delight."

Skywalker is quiet for a moment. His bright blue eyes catch on the faulty wiring she's been attempting to finagle into working order since she landed here, and he absently grabs a spanner and begins tinkering.

This close, she doesn't have to reach to feel the shifting current of his emotions. "You are," he says softly. A few twists of his hand and a couple of button presses, and the tractor beam's diagnostics panel is all green. Showoff. "I wish you'd let me train you," he says finally, setting the spanner down beside him. There are no accusation in the words, but she feels the lingering merriment in the Force give way to a dull loneliness. Mara knows why he keeps asking, and it's not because she's any great Jedi talent. She's...fine at it, she supposes, but Skywalker is asking for one thing when he needs another. "I'd be an awful student," she says finally, bumping her shoulder with his, and he gives her his own version of Leia's half-smile . "But I guess I should probably make sure you aren't dead from time to time." He chuckles, and shakes his head. "Yeah, you're my best friend, too."

[foolishlovers]

hello my dearest jane!! i was wondering whether you had any friends-with-benefits fic recs? thank u 💛

lily i'm so glad u asked me, of course i have some for u 🥰 Agnes' Family Assortment by TawnyOwl95 (E, 15k) The devil’s flat (flat 6, Garden Court, 66 Eden Close, London) has been sold at last! Agnes, the resident mother hen, has plans for both her sultry new neighbour, and the lonely angel who lives in the attic flat upstairs. She is not as subtle as she thinks though, and her neighbours fight back. Not a Mounted Dildo but a Fuck Machine by summerofspock, NaroMoreau (E, 35k) Aziraphale and Crowley have lived together for three years when lockdown goes into effect. When Aziraphale meets a nice girl on Tinder who he thinks is his perfect match, he's delighted. There's just one hurdle: that pesky virginity thing. Lucky for him, Crowley has always been there for him. He's helped Aziraphale with every other problem through the years, why not this one? Flowers From The Grave Of Our Friendship by WaitingToBeBroken (E, 50k) Crowley is very good at temptation, not so good with what comes afterwards. Aziraphale knows demons don't love so he is happy to take anything Crowley would give him. Both of them are too blind to realize the thing they want is right in front of them. Tadfield's Finest by angelsnuffbox (E, 51k) The sleepy town of Tadfield is thoroughly shaken by the arrival of DI Crowley. Where barely anything ever happened before, there is now a bustle of low grade criminal activity, and everyone knows where to point the blame. Gabriel thinks he's a bad omen for the town, many others are quick to agree. Meanwhile, Aziraphale from SOCO just thinks he's hot. Ridiculously so. South Downs by summerofspock (E, 79k) Blackballed from the industry ten years ago, Anthony Crowley jumps at the chance to star in a new Regency romance miniseries with well-known gay actor Aziraphale Fell in the hopes that it will help him restart his career. The trouble is, Crowley has played all sorts of characters and for the life of him, he can't figure out why he's struggling to play the romantic lead opposite a man.

[furious-rogue-stuff]

CONGRATULATIONS!!!! Your trully really deserve it!! So can I request 🗡🥺🐣please?

Sending u love and hugs🫶🏻🫶🏻

My dear friend! I'm sorry for the ridiculous wait on this, but I finally got around to this wonderful prompt. This is my first time writing Pero Tovar, so I hope I've done him justice.

Thanks, as always, to @just-here-for-the-moment for putting up with my ass and beta reading to make sure this wasn't complete trash and smutty enough.

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Spanish woman, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 6,500+

🚨Author chooses not to include detailed warnings, but the following: Mentions of marriage, impersonating a soldier, past violence, scars and war wounds, breeding kink, graphic depictions of unprotected sex, and period-accurate tropes.

Yearn

The air outside was crisp with chill, making it all the more pressing for him to traverse the muddy road towards the small cottage. The smoke from the stone chimney signaled you’d started a fire for supper, and the twinkle of candlelight from the condensation-covered window facing outward to the road and frosty meadow beyond told him you’d intended to keep your promise from that morning.

 The gnaw of hunger had settled in from the long day of labor, but the ache behind his sternum was one of longing, one he’d been nursing since the day before, and it took precedence over any need to fill his belly. He quickly trotted the steed into the rickety barn he’d yet to get around to patching the holes in the roof of, and once the animal was stabled, he trudged determinedly up to the door of the cottage.

He entered quickly and shut the chill out behind him, dark eyes adjusting to the dim lighting once he furrowed his brow and loped towards the weathered hearth. The steps that led to the loft above, where your marital bed was housed in a snug, insulated nook, were empty, and the table was already set with bread and wine while the savory stew kept warm in the caldero tucked near the fire. Yet, no sign of you.

“…Are you aloft already, condesa?” Pero speaks firmly, so his query can be heard clearly from above. 

There is no answer, so he paces towards the steps, senses on high alert now. His instincts bellow for him to retrieve his sword from whence it’s stored, hidden in a nearby trunk, or to at least unsheathe the hidden blade he keeps on his person. He palms the handle of his dagger, tucked in its scabbard at the back of his leather belt underneath his well-worn poncho. His expression becomes stony, scar over his left eye resembling an etching, one that reveals the capacity of brutality suffered and meted out in return. 

It's the soft flutter of clothing he hears first before he sees the movement from the shadowed corner that has him pivoting and effortlessly catching you as you leapt out at him from your stealthy ambush spot – the pantry cubby you’d climbed up into and waited for the right moment to pounce. 

“Gotcha!” he growls triumphantly as he swings you around with impish delight, making you encircle your arms to hold onto his broad shoulders while you squeal mirthfully whilst your tunic skirts flutter about. “Trying to get the jump on me? Really, tigresita?!”

Not to be foiled completely, you wrap your legs around his hips and toss yourself backwards, creating a momentum that forces him to swing around until he’s able to break both your falls onto the bench you’d improvised using two bales of hay and an old tapestry draping you’d found discarded upstairs.

Pero lands with an exhaled huff, and you victoriously use his distraction to grab his thick wrists and pin his arms above his head.

“Bueno, I’ve bested the great guerrero, the most fearsome man with a blade, who said I was too noisy for my own good to ever get the drop on him, was it?” you’re gloating as you stare sultrily into his sardonic, handsome expression. “Well? Do you yield?”

“You are much too playful for me to try besting, my love, so…” Pero draws in that graveled rumble of his, musing and melodic before he suddenly bucks you off of him and rolls to pin you under him instead. “No, I do not yield.”

You scoff haughtily, arching a smug brow as you chime, “Good, because this is where I wanted to end up anyway.”

“Oh, is that right?” he husks, unable to muster the faux scowl any longer, so he smirks and croons in that bass-filled melodic murmur, one that always sets your nerve endings on fire, as he intensely stares into your eyes. “You wanted to end up on your back and underneath the tired and dirty mercenary-turned-farmhand that’s made you his wife? Well, I should hope so, mi amada.”

You smile enchantingly at him and arch your hips up into his. “It is so, mi marido,” is your silky purr as you lean up and brush your soft lips over his. 

Pero grunts approvingly and deepens the kiss, hand cupping your jaw possessively as he plunders the cup of your mouth with his voracious tongue.

Equally as possessive are your hands as they grope and cling to his thick tunic under his poncho before eagerly shoving upwards in order to tug at his undershirt in an attempt to slip beneath to touch his skin. He smells of soil, grain and leather, musky scent heightened by his salty sweat. It makes your head spin with lust, and has arousal cloying from your center. His mouth is warm, and you ache to feel his powerful and overheated body against your bare skin as he presses into you with need.

You are desperate to undress him, and he realizes how much so when you dig your heels into the back of his trousers and groan into his mouth a pleading command.

Breaking the kiss, Pero pants against your gasping mouth before grumbling, “What was that?”

“I said I want you inside me now, Pero,” you airily repeat, the tone of your demand though is softened by your excitement now that he’s pointedly ground his arousal into your tingling center. “Mmm, please—”

“Such a needy little thing, begging so,” he chuckles ruggedly, timbre hitting that octave that has desire beseechingly pulsing in the seat of your core. His dark eyes crinkle as if he can sense how aroused you are, and just as you whine for him to comply, he slips a hand between your bodies and hikes it up the front of your skirts to cup you at the haven of your thighs. “And here I thought you were simply keeping your promise to wait up for me, no matter how late my return from the merchants. But instead, you try to best me into submission so you can have me fill this warm cunt, eh?”

His fingers trace along the crest of your sex before gliding along your warm, wet seam, parting your folds just as his thumb presses into the hood of your clit. “Ah, Pero!” you whimper, hands clutching at his sides and gripping sturdy fabric as you roll your hips, seeking the plunge of his fingers into your sheath. “Please—”

He revels in how desperate you are for him, so he presses his luck by testing how far his depraved desires can muster getting you to that fine line of wanting to give into your urge to be dominated versus having dominion to ensnare him into succumbing to his own needs. 

So, he licks your plump bottom lip before grazing his teeth over it licentiously. 

At your gasp and jolt against his edging fingers where you ache for them, Pero mutters coolly, “Is that all you can say, condesa? My fierce little noblewoman-turned-warrior can’t use her words when her sweet cunt is touched?”

The way your eyes sharpen is exactly what he wanted just before he plunges two thick fingers inside you. 

You moan that glorious sound of pleasure that makes him feel like he’s touched the sun and it’s filled him with grace, and the beatific expression of rapture that comes over your lovely face has him straining in his trousers to replace his fingers with his cock. 

But, he persists in this carnal play, and coos, “Look at you, bebita. It’s almost like you’ve yearned for my touch all day—”

“Pero,” you whine when he finger-fucks you slowly while taunting you so. He chuckles at the pleading way you arch up into him, so you dig your nails into the layers until you can feel his solid torso, and hiss, “No me tortures, por favor—”

His musing hum is rich and earthy, and to your aroused senses, it’s like a warm wine hitting your bloodstream. Feeling his broad, strong frame pressed over you, and the teasing prod of his ramrod cock only heightens your need, as does the musky smell of him, the sweat that clings to his skin and the heat of his mouth grazing along your cheek now. 

Scenting your hair by nosing into the locks at your temple, Pero laconically rumbles, “I’d never torture you, sweet girl. I just want you to be mi tigresita valiente and admit you’ve been in heat for me, that you’ve been thinking unchaste thoughts all day—”

He feels your molten sheath clench around his fingers at his words, but the defiance is starting to scintillate in your eyes before you snap thinly, “And what sort of filth have you been thinking, husband?”

Pugnaciously, he smirks like a cunning tentador before husking, “Oh, this very thing. Of having my fingers in your warm cunt – making you restless and insolent, desperate to have my cock inside you instead.” 

At the indolent pump of his fingers changing to a pleasurable curl that brushes the digits against the nested pleasure point inside you, a gasped mewl falls from your mouth as you writhe up into him. 

“I thought about all the ways I’ve given you pleasure, and all the ways I still intend to give you pleasure,” he tells you in that damnable aloof way that makes you burn and melt. “Tell me one naughty little ember that’s kept you hot like this all day, esposa, and I’ll put my mouth on you until you reach bliss on my tongue.”

With a proposition like that? You are turned to clay, features heating from your blush as you confess, “I thought about you, undressed before me, and letting me worship your body with my hands and mouth before getting bare for you so you could make me yours by the fire.”

His fingers pause inside of you and he looks at you with unfettered hunger in his dark eyes. 

You expect him to shift up so he could make that fantasy a reality, but instead, he grunts – as if placated, before receding his fingers from you, crawling down your body to bunch up your skirts so he can bury his face between your thighs. 

The lascivious swipe of his tongue through your drenched folds has you gasping and hiking your knees up to make room for his broad shoulders, writhing in ecstasy as Pero devours your cunt and rubs his fingers over the hood of your pleasure point. He groans when your thighs squeeze around him, and chuckles against your mound when you bury your fingers into his hair and tug. 

The look he shoots up at you from below his brow while he nuzzles shamelessly into the heady curls above your sex makes your pulse spike with exhilaration, and when he shifts your wool-stocking-covered legs further apart for him to angle your pelvis further up to better access your honeyed cunt, you groan imploringly, “Mi amor,” and bite your trembling bottom lip.

It’s exactly what he wanted.

He is unabashed and libidinous with his mouth after he bows his head between your thighs once more, and true to his word, you’re climaxing in minutes on his tongue while you ride his rapacious appendage and grip the thick tufts of dark hair at the crown of his head with one hand whilst moaning blissfully into the back of the other.

The deliriously exquisite feeling that washes over you is divine, and you sigh softly while he laps at your climax and grunts, as if satisfied with your state of euphoria.

So, when you feel cool air between your thighs, your eyes glossily open to stare dazed up at him, confused as he looms over you and grumbles a humored, gloating hum before popping his sullied fingers into his mouth and sucking your slick orgasm off. 

He then stands from the makeshift bench and declares, “I want to eat,” before pivoting to lope unhurriedly to the wooden stool nearest the table so he can plunk down on it and scoot it closer to the fireplace to dutifully stir the stew with the ladle.

You’re flabbergasted. 

Sitting up on your elbows to gape – comically appalled – at him, you watch as he serves himself a bowl of the savory stew while trying to keep the wry grin from pulling at his full lips. He fails miserably though when he looks over at you with that droll expression on his features before he smiles behind the bowl he raises to his lips. It does little to conceal his goading amusement, and you’re glaring at him now that your wits have returned to you.

Once he’s had a few hearty sips of the flavorful meal, he gruffly drawls, “Come stay warm by the fire, mi amada.”

You decide then that two can play this game.

Straightening your tunic skirts down and squeezing your knees together, you sit on the edge of the improvised bench and start unfastening the corseted vest that keeps your tunic and smock cinched to your form.

“I am already very warm, thank you,” is your blithe lilt as you stand and shed the vest. 

Pero turns to watch you with clenched jaw as you remove the dark top tunic, leaving you now in just the green smock and a thin pale linen chemise that teases the shape and ample swell of your breasts. You can feel his eyes on you as you shimmy out of the smock next, leaving you now in just the chemise that hits just above your ankles. The glow from the fireplace hits the light linen and creates a spritely silhouette of your curvy, supple form hidden beneath, and when you hike up the hem just enough to allow you to adjust a wool stocking back up to your knee, you finally look over at him and smile.

“How is the stew?”

“…Come here.”

“Is it not to your liking, my love?”

“…Come here, mujer.”

“Do you prefer mead over wine with it?”

“…I prefer for you to cease teasing me so and come sit with me,” Pero tells you in a guttural croon as he sets his bowl aside on the table and holds his hand out to you in an assertive petition.

You feign meekness as you susurrate, “You said you wanted to eat, though. I am loath to disturb your meal—”

“Come sit on my lap and eat with me already. You’ve made your point,” he yields in a snarky huff, but the smile in his eyes is evident before they crinkle from the appeased smirk that warms his chiseled features when you slyly grin and saunter over to him. 

He swoops you into his lap before you’ve completely maneuvered around, and you scoff sassily at him as you loop your arms around his shoulders. He nuzzles into your neck and fondles his big, warm hands along your curves, making you sigh dreamily and lean into him.

“Have you eaten?”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Hm. Next time, you fill your belly first. Don’t wait on my account, ternura.”

“I will, precioso,” you retort affectionately, earning the expected eye roll and dubious snicker from him. “No seas tan gallardo, y come,” is your fussy quip as you grab his bowl, maneuver nimbly in his lap to reach for the ladle and add more stew to it before handing the bowl to him so you can grab a piece of bread and tear a chunk off to add in as well. 

He smirks broadly, so much so that his boyish dimple is unearthed from his right cheek. “No seas tan porfiada y come, condesa,” is his dashing counter, putting the bowl into your hands before grabbing the other from the table to serve himself some stew. 

You eat together, and you enjoy the warmth of his body as you remain perched on his lap while he leans his back into the wall and gorges himself. He asks where you sourced the meat that’s in the stew, and is proud when you tell him about the rabbit traps you set. You’re resourceful and smart, cunning, yet tender-hearted. It makes something warm and vast expand in his chest, having you be his, and how content you are to belong to him. 

Once the ache in his belly is quieted, he licks his lips before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, eyeing you intensely as you sip from the shared cup of wine.

He belongs to you, too. It stirs blazing desire in him, and fills him with serenity, knowing he’s yours, and how fiercely you made it so.

The longing of before tugs at his heart now as he’s reminded of how you’d sat opposite him the evening prior, balancing the small tyke on your knee as you’d both shared dinner at the farmer’s homestead. The former soldier had settled this land years prior, married, and started a family. Winter had been fast approaching, and after a chance encounter with the man on the road, you’d both accepted the offer to board at the vacant cottage on his land, exchanging labor and help prepping for the winter for room and board. 

Pero had watched you while the farmer and his wife chattered about the foodstuffs stored earlier and the barley he’d help transport to the merchant market the following morning, how long the journey there and back would be – ‘M’afraid it’ll take up most of the day’ – all while you’d entertained the little one that had become mesmerized by your smile and the silly faces you made to amuse him. 

A heavy desire had settled in his chest, one he couldn’t place, until you’d passed the small toddler over to his mother and offered to pick up the infant that had begun to cry in its woven bassinet. Seeing you hold the wailing baby to your chest and rock it softly as you sat back down and showed the mother how to use the feeding bottle that you’d made out of an old clay pot with a spout you’d improvised in order to supplement her milk with that of the cow’s? How gentle you were once the babe was sated and you could maneuver her in your arms to make sure to burp all the gasses out of the little baby before cradling the sweet infant to sleep? 

It had suddenly awakened something in him that made him feel clumsy – out of his depth. 

He shakes the reveries off when you hum and offer the cup of wine to him. 

“Do you want more?”

His features take on that stoic look, becoming marble as he nods and takes the cup to drain it of the remaining wine. 

Thinking he’s become weary from the day now, you take the bowls to be set aside for rinsing in the makeshift dish tub you’d fabricated from an old wine barrel.

Pero watches you hesitate before setting the bowls onto the shelf near you, and then turn back towards him to ask gently, “I have clean water. Would you like me to bathe you?”

His scarred brow cocks up at you, sarcastic as he deadpans, “Would you like me to bathe? Do I smell that bad? Is my stink too odious, condesa?”

Mischievous smile lighting up your features, you feign remorse before shaking your head and chiming, “No, not at all. I happen to like your stink, anyway,” at his amused snort, you continue silkily, “I was just thinking you’d like to feel the warm water over your skin. I heated it over the fire once the stew was ready. It’s tepid now, but still nice.”

He grunts as if charmed, then nods and stands to remove the poncho from his shoulders before tossing it over with the rest of your discarded garments. You pleasantly work to maneuver the tub with the clean water across the floor closer to the hearth and end up smiling when he chivalrously comes over and picks it up for you to be set right next to the stool. 

“This is poor substitute to the bathhouse, I know—” you begin to chuckle.

“You mean the one you went into while impersonating a soldier? Or the one you snuck into to seduce me?” he counters roguishly as he removes his belt, knife, and tunic next.

“No, travieso. I was meaning the one with the eucalyptus leaves and lovely oils that they put in the bath water – from the place we stopped at in the merchant’s quarter?” you deride playfully as you soak a rag in the tepid water before wringing it out. At his sardonic grunt, you stand and turn to bossily grab the waist of his trousers before yanking at the fastening. “Now, be good, husband, and let me undress you.”

His cock has been filled out since he collapsed onto the bench with you, but at your sultry tone, it throbs in response as it stands ready, arousal outlined prominently against the inseam of his trousers. 

You take your time removing the remaining layers of clothes from his torso, then kneel at his feet in order to remove his dirt-caked boots before you finally resume stripping him of his pants.

The glow of the firelight illuminates his tan skin and the myriad of scars that map his body across contours of muscle and vast expanses of flesh. Some are old and worn smooth by time, others are silvery pale and etched, others are a darker olive and raised. He’d once been self-conscious about your gentle, appraising touches – of the doting caresses over the jagged reminders of brutality and pain that had been carved into him by steel blade, arrowhead or iron-made punctures. But now, he yearns for your touch, relishes how you brush your lips over a scar along the curve of his ribcage, and burns with pride at the reverent way you glide the wet rag to scrub the dirt and sweat from his skin. 

He's not even bashful about standing in the nude before you while you remain in your chemise.

No, instead his timidness is palliated by the new fixation crossing his mind’s eye. One that’s conjured you in a kaleidoscope fantasy, where you’re standing before him in the same chemise, but instead it is clinging to a rounded little belly while your beautiful smile broadens as you look upon him. How you would look nude and with child, the way you’d react to his erotic touch – one hand between your thighs, with the other caressing your soft womb.

Before he could get carried away with the curiosities – would she taste sweeter between her thighs, would her scent be more ripened on her warmer skin, how sensitive would she be to being touched and kissed – Pero cleared his throat and his mind as best he could in order to guardedly watch you tend to him.

“So, this is what you’d fantasized about?” he murmurs warmly as you lean back on your haunches after crouching down to rinse the rag in the tub and wring it out once more. 

The chill is warded away mostly by the fire in the hearth, but truthfully he’s so aroused by you that he’s become even more of a furnace than he is normally. You’re glad for it, loving the extra excuse to touch him and revel in his masculine scent.

“The bathing is a windfall, but yes,” you quip as you stand now so you can scrub up into his underarm and whisper conspiratorially, “Another thing I thought of? Was how gorgeous you look when your face is flushed after I suck your cock until you spill in my mouth—”

“Misericordia, mujer,” Pero exhales in a floored scoff as he pauses your scrubbing and cups his hand at your jaw in order to tilt your brazen smile up to him. “You cannot say such depraved filth to me and remain clothed,” is his raspy taunt as he crowds you against the edge of the table. Your titillated stare has him smirking as he tugs at the neckline of your chemise and orders, “Take this off. Now.”

You plop the rag down into the tub and do as you’re told, undressing before him. 

He watches you with his dark, intense eyes, shadow cast by the fireplace shrouding half of his features as you discard the chemise, then your boots, leaving you in only the wool stockings. 

You’re about to ruck one down when Pero surprises you by kneeling and doing it for you. 

“So, how was your day, aside from the erotic daydreaming?” he’s asking in that melodic baritone as he chucks the stocking over his shoulder before moving to the next one, as if his face isn’t an inch from your womanhood and his gloating stare can’t see the debauched effect he’s having on you.

“It-It was fine. I spent most of it in their root cellar, helping stock the things from the barn,” you stutter as he hums to indicate he’s listening while he tosses the other stocking aside and starts fondling his hands up your supple thighs. “With the little ones clinging at her apron, she needed help milking the cow and feeding the chickens—”

“How were the little piglets today?” he jokes, wry glance up at you clear indication he’s referring to the children rather than the actual piglets from the sow in the barn.

You playfully pinch his shoulder. “Que malo,” is your sardonic giggle before answering, “The baby was needy for milk. But she’s practically tapped after the little one has his fill, so I tried to get him to eat some porridge—”

Pero grunts musingly and brushes a sloppy, open-mouth kiss over your womb. “The little glutton is old enough to eat. La pobrecita will be malnourished if she doesn’t get enough milk,” is his aloof grumble, kissing a path up your body as he slowly stands. 

Arousal swoops into your stomach and curls tantalized tingles into your thrumming core. 

“I-I know,” is all you can breathe out as he boxes you between him and the table at your back before looming at his full height to stare hungrily at you. “H-Hopefully they can wean him s-soon—”

“You wanted me to fuck you by the fire?”

Your clench hard at that, nipples studding and desire making you wet with anticipation while his broad frame stands so close, yet so far still. You know he’s being cheeky, trying to put you off-kilter to his whims, but you’re tickled more than anything that he’d try. 

“I said I wanted you to make me yours by the fire,” you retort with a spritely look in your eyes.

“That’s the same thing, isn’t it?” he says in a contrarian drawl, lips pouting at your snickered response. “Well? How is it not?”

“Because! You can fuck anyone, but you can’t make just anyone yours,” you declare with a logical air, hands gliding up his chest now to loop around his neck so you can slink up against him and his warm, bare body.

“Hmm…makes sense, I suppose,” he judiciously replies before confidently hoisting you up.

You giggle effervescently as he carries you over to the makeshift bench, makes short work of shoving it to be closer to the hearth before laying you onto it and hitching himself between your welcoming thighs. 

Pero’s kisses are greedy as he ruts his ramrod shaft between your dripping folds, eager to slicken it in order to spear it into you and make it feel divine for you both. Your hands cling to his muscular back, mouth seeking the warmth of his own for a luscious interlude before you feel him notch the head of his cock at your dimpled entrance. 

He’s content to let you pillage his mouth with your tongue before twirling his own against it, desire a stoked fire in his center that he intends to nurture for as long and as many times he can bring you to climax before he’s overcome with his own release. 

“Por favor, mi amor, dámelo,” you supplicate in a honey-sweet tone, eyes pleading as your body clings to his strong frame. 

He can’t deny you any longer. 

His thrust has you arching, pelvis angling up and knees clutching at his sides as he fucks into you to the hilt while you moan his name and he swears in awe at how sensational this feels every time. 

“Cristo amado,” he groans as he thrusts into you again, passion boiling over in him at the way you mewl against his jaw approvingly. “Wanted this. Needed it—”

“Oh, Pero,” you exhale as he sets a pounding pace and holds you to him like you are liquid, and in danger of coming apart in his arms. “Want you all the time—”

“Yeah?” he groans, nuzzling your neck to suckle a possessive kiss into your delicate skin before he grits, “Need you, amada—”

“Tell me, husband. Mmm, tell me what you need,” you stammer out as he keeps rocking into you in that toe-curling way that has his cock grinding into the ruinous parts inside your fluttering sheath.

Ardently, he growls, “Need you—need to fill you up, keep you full of me. Want you to be mine—” 

You moan in that glorious way again, and it almost drives him over the edge, so he adjusts to loom over you so he can concentrate on your pleasure. To make you reach bliss before he lets his baser, primal desires carry him off. 

He keeps pounding into your squelching cunt as he begins suckling on your nipple while he presses the pad of his thumb over the hood of your bundled pleasure point. 

It sets you alight, and you wail in overawed pleasure as he plucks you so with his cock, fingers and mouth. “Ah, D-Dios mío—” you cry out when he sucks hard on your pebbled flesh and grinds his wanton pleasure to ignite a scintillating climax to burst free. 

You moan as your sheath squeezes around his cock and floods him with your warm orgasm, carried off by the throes of ecstasy he’s unleashed in you.

Punch-drunk from the achievement, Pero moans before he licks a path to the other nipple to toy the tip of his tongue along it until you shiver and whimper from overstimulation when he purses his lips around it. 

“Pero,” you whine airily, eyes heavy-lidded as he frees your nipple and leans up to gaze rapaciously at you. He tenderly pets your sweaty hair from your face and traces his thumb along the apple of your cheek before you sigh, “You didn’t do it.”

He frowns, trailing his thumb to your mouth, intending to caress it over your plush lips before you kiss it dotingly. “Didn’t do what?”

You exhale girlishly before cupping your hand to his cheek. “You didn’t fill me,” is your silly reply, eyes warm with mirth and smile affectionate when he grunts and scowls. “And you held back. There was something you wanted to say—”

“There was, but it…” he pauses before shaking his head and scoffing, “I’m still inside you, amada. Let’s forget it—”

“Pero Tovar, are you timid, so suddenly?” you can’t help but razz, smiling slyly at him when he gives you his intimidating glower. “Oh no, that will not work with me, marido. Your nostrils flaring crossly are cute—”

“You are a maddening woman,” he huffs in that gravelly tone, but the amusement is clear in the creasing of his eyes. “I…I have been thinking things I haven’t before. At least that I haven’t ever considered, and, they are clumsy thoughts. I—I’m unused to being unsure, ternura…”

“Unsure about…what?” you ask and lean up to lovingly gaze into his tense stare. When he hesitates, you can’t help jump to conclusions for him, knowing how reticent he is about discussing his feelings. “If it’s about things here? We could always take William up on his offer – go north to visit him in the spring? Or if you’re not content with, well, this,” you gesture to the shabby interior of the cottage, “we could ask to stay in the hut next to the barn? It’s dryer and closer to the work—”

“It’s none of that. Although I haven’t done well enough of a job in that, I know. Not found us much of a life out here…” Pero grouses, but at your frown, he amends, “This is not the life of nobleza. It’s beneath your stature—”

“Fuck my stature,” you scoff and sit up to roll your positions so you can straddle his lap while he gapes up at you. “I’ve told you plenty of times now that my station in life is for me to decide, and I’ve chosen to be happy and free, with you. Now, mi guerrero obstinado, tell me what you’re unsure of, and I shall tell you if you have cause to be unsure.”

He’s still inside you, and the way his cock throbs in your still tingling sheath while he gives you a penetrating look with those dark brown eyes tells you this is something very primordial. 

“I want to fill you up, make you full of my seed until your belly is soft and round with my child.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, but your hands caress his chest in a soothing, encouraging way that has Pero shutting his eyes and letting out the breath he’d been holding. 

“Our life is not suited for such a…we travel, and such a life would mean settling down,” he tells you firmly before opening his eyes.

He’s disarmed by the fond, radiant look softening your countenance. 

“Well, sure, we would need to settle down, but only for a brief time. Until the little one can come along with us on our travels,” you tell him as you idly undulate your pelvis, grinding his pulsing cock along your silken walls before squeezing your sheath around it for good measure while your breasts bounce from how vigorously you begin fucking yourself onto him. 

The wind begins to howl outside and seep through certain cracks in the door and window, but neither of you seem to care enough to notice as you sensually grind down on him, hair swaying with the way you lean forward to passionately kiss Pero when he groans and clutches your waist tightly, powerful fingers dimpling your flesh as he starts guiding you to ride him harder.

His breath is ragged as everything starts to spin up between you, his lust and adoration tangling around the incredulous realization that you’re in tune with the clumsy thoughts he confessed. 

Still, it scorches something feral and covetous to singe through him as he husks, “You w-want that…? You truly want to be mine—to be with child?” 

You moan and plant your palms to his warm, flexing pectorals as you ride him with desperate vigor now, expression beaming with delight. 

“There’s nothing I want more,” you declare with genuine enamored satisfaction, albeit pantingly so as you ride him and mewl in pleasure.

Pero is torn asunder by your words as much as by how exquisitely you’re riding him, and he’s so propelled to the precipice of climax and primal need to triumph in it that he effortlessly sits up and manhandles you to flip positions so he can fuck you with passionate zeal and get you there with him just as his cock swells and twitches in imminent release. 

“Mi alma, I’ll fuck my seed deep—make it so nothing spills free from you—have you filled full with it, and rejoice once a child is in your womb,” he’s professing against your jaw as he hammers his cock into your fluttering sheath while your heels dig into his lower back and your fingers knead below his shoulder blades, rapturous pleasure engulfing you with every ferally growled word, until he flings you into a blistering orgasm by moaning, “Will keep making you mine even then. Give you everything—keep you pregnant, protect you and our sweet ones—keep you forever—”

You cry out and arch up under him, rapturous sob catching in your throat as you reach a zenith of bliss that has you clinging in enthralled desperation to him, which snaps the tether of control loose from him and spurs his own fierce orgasm.

Pero moans hoarsely against your neck as he spills his climax deep, cock buried to the hilt inside you as he holds you possessively to him and hums soothingly at your loving nuzzles and whispered words of, “Te amo, precioso.”

Huskily, he rumbles, “Te amo y te adoro con todo que tengo, mi alma.”

You sigh wistfully at his words and melt further under him, reveling in the decadent bloom of warmth that diffuses through you. 

The crackling of the fire is the only other sound of consequence over the ragged, shallow breaths you’re both trying to steady into calm once more while you come down from the soul-shattering lovemaking. 

“Pero...?”

“Hm?”

“Would you still love me if I became plump and had little ones constantly hanging on my skirts?” you whisper meekly, hands languidly caressing along his sweaty back. “And if I even became shit at fighting?”

“That’s impossible, tigresita,” he laconically rumbles against your neck. At your fretful hum, he props himself up in order to loom over you and give you his steely, no-nonsense stare. “I started to love you when I thought you were an awkward, short soldadito, my love. I think it’s safe to say I’ll love every version of you to come,” is his bass-filled retort, sincere affection not dulled by the humor of his tone. 

You press your forehead to his, appeased.

He pulls out of your now tender cunt, and avidly watches his seed begin to drip in his wake, so he scoops his fingers to prevent it from spilling further, and pushes the pearly essence back into you. 

You shiver and sigh, resting a hand over your womb while you caress his shoulder with the other as you shut your eyes in the moment of blissful tranquility, post-coitus.

“I just hope I make a worthy enough father.”

You don’t mean to snort, but you do. “You will, mi amor. The real concern is whether we’ll be able to muster the stamina to work on the farm chores and fuck like this until you put a baby in me,” is your vivacious chuckle as you hook your arm around his shoulders to guide him back down to lie on top of you while he scoffs irreverently at you. 

“I have plenty of stamina, always,” he purrs against your mouth before brushing his lips against it.

“Good. I yearn to be ravished by you daily, after all, so you’ll need it,” is your alluring coo before kissing him amorously. 

You only break the kiss to bat your lashes at him before susurrating, “I want you to make me yours again and again, until dawn comes, and then all over again, precioso.” 

He chuckles that deep, gravelly laugh before crooning melodically, “As you wish, mi amada.”

_____________________________

Spanish-English Glossary:

Caldero = Cauldron, for cooking over a hot flame

Condesa = Countess; a woman of nobility

Tigresita = Tiger Lilly; little tigress

Bueno = So; also ‘Good’ or ‘Well’

Guerrero = Warrior (male)

Mi amada = My beloved (female)

Mi marido = My husband

Bebita = Little baby (female)

No me tortures, por favor = Don’t torture me, please

Mi tigresita valiente = My valient little tigress

Tentador = Tempter (male)

Esposa = Wife

Mi amor = My love

Mujer = Woman

Ternura = Tenderness; akin to saying ‘sweetheart’

Precioso = Precious (male); gorgeous one

No seas tan gallardo, y come = Don’t be so gallant and eat

No seas tan porfiada y come, condesa = Don’t be so stubborn and eat, countess

Travieso = Naughty/Mischievous boy

Misericordia, mujer - Mercy, woman

Que malo = So bad (male)

La pobrecita = The poor little thing; poor little girl

Por favor, mi amor, dámelo = Please, my love, give it to me

Cristo amado = Christ beloved

Amada = Beloved

Ah, D-Dios mío = Oh, my God

Nobleza = Nobility

Mi guerrero obstinado = My obstinate warrior 

Mi alma = My soul; passionate term of endearment that eludes to the profound love someone feels, aka to the soul

Te amo, precioso = I love you, precious boy

Te amo y te adoro con todo que tengo, mi alma = I love and I adore you with all I have, my soul

Soldadito = Little soldier (male)

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