#not sure if this is anything but I have brain worms and I paused in editing my writing sample to make this post okay I have priorities

[cinderellarhea]

Everyone calls him Cas…. No you don’t get it everyone calls him CAS!!! EVERYONE calls him Cas. everyone calls him….. cas.

Something something being loved is being changed

[gojoux]

『 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 』

· Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

· Summary: Gojo never felt truly cared for besides from his best friend who had parted ways. In his doubtful phase, he keeps asking the question why would you care so much for him?

· CW: 5.8k // Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Angst. Gojo in badmood. Gojo against the world, maybe. Reader's patience is as thick as Toji's biceps but also as thin as his pet worm's hair.

You're sitting with Shoko in the classroom across from each other as you eat your lunch. “Have you heard anything from Satoru?” You ask her, wondering where the talkative lanky man is. You always call him by his given name when you're talking about him with Shoko, but never in front of him.

Shoko gives you a sad smile as she shakes her head. “No, not recently. The last time we talked was just before winter break. He came to me to ask a few things, that was it.” She pauses for a moment before looking at you. “Is something wrong?”

“Winter break?” You ask quietly, your eyebrows furrowing slightly. “But, that was two weeks ago.” You frown.

“I have to assume there's a good reason for it. You know, missions? He wouldn't leave without telling anyone unless something serious came up.” She shrugs. “Then again, he never tells me anything.”

You know how things are different now, things have changed. Maybe he did change, too? You can't help but wonder, you always found him quite mysterious despite his big mouth.

Ever since Geto's departure, Gojo has been going out on more missions. After one is done, he goes for another one. No stopping, no breaks.

You let out a tired sigh, the feeling of anxiousness keeps coming back whenever you're thinking about his whereabouts. “I'm just... worried. You know how it is...”

Shoko puffs her cigarette to the side. “I'm sure he's fine. Just because he's out there hunting curses alone, doesn't mean we should be worried.” She takes another smoke from her cigarette. “Well, I have to say, I'm quite worried for his health. Too much use of his Six Eyes could burn his brain to crisp.”

“I can't believe that I'm saying this but,” you rest your head on your folded arms on the table. “I miss him, Shoko,” you say quietly, looking at the wooden surface of the table up close.

She raised her eyebrow at you. “You miss Gojo?” She pauses, her voice softer. “What could you possibly miss about that guy?” She glances across the table at you.

“Oh, come on.” You groan quietly. “He's annoying, but he's... I don't know, likable?” You say unsurely because you know damn well that everyone in school, and the higher-ups, definitely won't think Gojo is likable. Well, not in a bad way, but he's not exactly unlikeable either.

It's hard to explain because he's just, him. A complex individual. And everybody have their own thoughts about him.

“You have to be kidding.” Shoko looks at you amused. “Likable isn't the word I'd use to describe him.” She pauses. “But, I guess I know what you mean. He's not all that bad once you get used to him.”

“Maybe you missed him because he hasn't been picking on you lately,” she says with a small chuckle as she puts off her cigarette. “Pshh, why would you think that?” You roll your eyes at her suggestion, brushing off her words with a hand gesture.

Then, the table vibrates suddenly. Shoko frowns at the sound of the phone ringing, noticing it was hers. She reaches over and grabs her phone, glancing at the screen. Turns out she was called to the school's infirmary, asking her to heal another sorcerer after a mission.

Shoko sighs and stands up from the table. “Duty calls.” She pauses. “I'll see you later, alright?” She smiles at you, heading off from the classroom after you wave your hand as a farewell.

As you continue to eat your lunch alone, another vibration could be felt from the table, this time it's yours. With a small groan, you look down at your phone in your hands. A text message has appeared on your screen. It's a message from Gojo Satoru.

I'm at school. A simple text to confirm his well-being.

Your eyes light up at the text before you quickly type in, where are you?

You huff when you didn't receive any reply. You haven't seen Gojo in a while so you quickly left your lunch to search for him while you sense his cursed energy.

You found it. You can sense him on the training field. You make your way there to find Gojo. The sky is overcast when you arrive at the training field. The wind blows around you, rustling the grass. When you reach the side of the field, you see a figure standing in the distance, his head angled down. His arms are crossed, creating a shadow across his face.

He glances up as you approach. “You found me.” His voice is calm, his eyes betraying no emotions. “Gojo?” You call out his name quietly. He looks different than the last time you saw him, he looks more somber.

Gojo's eyes meet yours. “Yeah... it's me.” He looks away from you again, “Are you here to scold me? For leaving without telling anyone?” There's a faint edge of bitterness in his voice. “If you came by to scold me for running off, then don't even bother.” His eyes are cold, unreadable.

You were taken aback by the drastic change of attitude. It's not the usual cheery and playful Gojo Satoru you know. “Have you been taking more missions?” You ask carefully like you're walking on eggshells around him. “You look... tired.”

His gaze sharpens as he glances at you. “More missions than usual... yeah.” He pauses, his voice quieter. “I'm trying to keep myself busy.” There's a hint of melancholy in his voice as he talks.

“Some more difficult than others.” His voice trails off. “I don't want to be stuck in my thoughts when I'm at the dorm.” He glances away.

“Right...” You feel awkward after he's done talking. It's just the tone that he uses makes you feel unfamiliar with this ‘new’ Gojo.

“Are you... going on a mission soon?” You ask quietly, hoping he would say no or the very least, not soon. You just want him to rest.

“Yeah,” he replies simply. He glances around the field. “The old geezers keep pushing me to take on more missions, the threat of cursed spirits isn't getting any less. They want me to keep exorcising them." He looks back at you.

“I'm heading out tomorrow to deal with a colony of spirits that have been plaguing the city. It's a relatively small job for me.” His voice is nonchalant as if he were talking about any ordinary night.

“That soon? Shouldn't you be resting after all that missions?” You raise a brow at him.

Gojo turns towards you. “Resting is for the weak.” He crosses his arms, his gaze piercing. “I'm not weak.” He pauses. “I don't need a break.” He glances away from you, his eyes flicking across the training field.

You scoff to the side, shaking your head at his response. ‘He's like a child. So stubborn, too.’ You think. But you can't really blame him for feeling like this.

When he speaks again, his voice sounds more tired. “Besides... if I stop and rest, I'll just go back to thinking about him.” He pauses. “And I don't want that right now.”

“Look,” you try to find a word to convince him, “Just— take a break for a few hours, okay? You can go again later.” You try to persuade him. “The city won't fall apart if you're absent for a while, you know that's not how it works.”

“Of course, I know that.” He lets out an irritated huff. “I'm not stupid. I'm just... busy.” He glances away from you again, his gaze piercing the sky as he thinks.

“Besides, what if the curse spirits get worse while I'm gone? What if they're able to cause some serious damage while I'm sitting in my room on my ass.” He turns his attention back to you. “And you know I can't let that happen.”

“I know that." You let out an exasperated sigh. “There are other capable sorcerers who can take the mission, not just you.” You remind him. You stay quiet for a while, letting out another sigh. “Only for a few hours, please?” You offer again as you take note of how tired he looks.

He scoffs quietly, but his tone is less aggressive than before. “Fine. A few hours.” He sighs in defeat as his hands slip into his pockets.

“Did you come all the way here just to tell me that?” He tilts his head slightly at you. “Maybe.” You shrug nonchalantly, even though deep in your heart, you're worried about him. You want to care for him.

“Can I ask you a question?” His tone is more casual. “Yeah, sure.” You nod at him. Gojo's eyes shift back to the training field. “Why do you care? I thought I was annoying.” The tone of his voice is flat.

“I'm not weak and I don't need your pity. I can handle a few missions.” He tilts his head, his gaze piercing. “Why do you worry for me so much?” His voice is softer, not as cold as before.

“You actually care what I think of you?” You can't help but let out a small chuckle. “I can't deny that.” You ignore his question.

Gojo raises an eyebrow at you, his expression blank. “What's that supposed to mean?” He tilts his head to the side. “Are you trying to imply that I care about what you think of me? If so, I can assure you that isn't true.” He frown. “I don't give a damn about what other people think of me.”

“Right.” You hum casually. “You're the Gojo Satoru after all, why should you care?” You answer back with his words. “For your question, I do care, I won't deny that, too,” you answer him shortly.

His eyes shift back towards you as he listens to your answer. “You care for me?” He tilts his head in disbelief. “You always say I was nothing but annoying and a pain in the ass to you.” He tilts his head to get a better look at you. “Why?”

You smile at his response. ‘You do care what I think after all.’ You think to yourself.

“Well,” you thought of many things to say to him. Anything about him that makes you care for him so much. Anything about him that makes you like him so much. All despite his antics and shenanigans.

You hold your words behind your tongue, thinking that it's best to keep your true feeling hidden from him for now. “Just because,” you say simply, giving him a smile.

His face remains blank as he listens to you. After a moment of silence, a small smirk creeps back onto his face. “That's probably the worst excuse I've ever heard.” He pulls his hands out of his pockets.

“I can tell you're lying.” His smirk quickly turns into another frown. “At least I know you care enough to lie to me.” He narrows his eyes as he looks at you. “Don't be a coward about it. Just admit the reason you care for me. I won't judge you.”

You huff at his response. “I will tell you next time. Now come on, you agreed to take some rest.” You don't know what came after you, but without wasting more time, you grab his hand and lead him away from the training field.

He glances down at your hand as you hold onto his. He looks up at you and sighs. “Are you going to drag me back to the dorm... or something?” He sounds unamused.

However, he doesn't try to pull his hand out of your grasp. He simply follows along as you lead the way in front of him.

“Yeah, got to make sure you're actually going to rest. And what's a better place here than your own room?” You say as you both enter the dorm hall.

He doesn't say anything else as you lead him to his room. He glances up at you as you enter, still holding your hand. Gojo's face softens somewhat.

“What's this about, really? You seem awfully persistent about this.” He tilts his head in curiosity. “You want to cuddle with me or something?”

“What? Pfft, no.” You shake your head with a chuckle. “Now, go, go. Have some sleep.” You open the door of his room, and let his hand go from your hold before pushing him inside. “Just rest, okay? No hard thinking.”

Gojo grumbles with annoyance. “Alright, alright...” He enters the room and sits on his bed. “I'm not thinking too hard.” He looks up at you, crossing his arms. It's like he's a sulking child.

However, after a few seconds, he sighs. He glances down at his room floor, his body language stiff. He plops himself down on his bed and rolls on his back, closing his eyes as he relishes the soft mattress on his back.

“Fuck... I guess I do need that sleep.” He turns around to face you. “Come on, just sit in here with me. I don't think I can sleep with you outside.”

This time, you raise a brow at him. “Huh?” You look at him dumbfounded by his out of nowhere suggestion. “You want me to stay with your or something? I can leave you alone if you want.”

Gojo's eyebrow twitches slightly. “I can handle sleeping alone.” He pauses, his expression shifting once more. “But... it gets lonely at times.”

He looks away from you. “It's... stupid I know, but I don't like the quiet when I'm alone.” His voice dropped to a quiet, hushed whisper.

“So... can you stay?” He shifts on his bed uncomfortably since he knows that this is unlike his usual self. “Please?”

You look at him amused as you lean on the door, internally laughing at his drastic change of attitude. You can't believe your ears when he said ‘please’, but you stay quiet, just wanting to drag this situation longer for your amusement.

It's rare to see him like this. Especially with those eyes and his pout, how can you resist, really?

“Come on... Just stay by my side for 30 minutes. I think if I feel your presence here, I'll feel better. I promise I won't bother you or anything.” He says once more. “Just... give me some company for a while.”

“Besides, I thought you cared for me?” He tilts his head to the side, a hint of tease is evident in his tone. He sits up a bit, resting his back against the pillows, waiting for you.

“Okay, okay.” You push yourself off the door before closing it. You walk towards his bed, and his expression softens as you sit down on his bed.

When he finally speaks, his voice is calm and relaxed. His eyes stare at you, a hint of vulnerability in them. “You know you didn't have to agree right away.”

“You're right,” you answer him lightly, your eyes looking around his room. He looks at you in silence, admiring your side profile before speaking, “Can I ask you another question?”

“Shoot.” you turn your head at him, waiting for his other question.

“Why... do you suddenly care so much for me?” Gojo looks at you seriously. "I know you always thought I was annoying and I didn't care if our relationship was hostile or not, but now you're acting like I'm some sort of important person to you.”

“I don't understand what changed.” He shifts his gaze away from you, turning towards the window instead. “And I don't get why you're trying to hide it either.”

You stare at him quietly, your eyes shifting down to his bed, and then the table beside it before returning to him.

You reach your hand towards his glasses, hooking a finger onto the bridge before taking it off from him gently, revealing the vibrant blue of his eyes, before putting the glasses on the table.

“You want me to answer that?” You ask back as you think how would you answer the question he's been wondering since you meet in the training fields.

Why do you care?

Why should you care?

Why?

“Yes.” He sounds serious as he looks at you again, not blinking. “Because I need to know.”

“You're hiding behind this facade you call ‘cool and laid back’, but it's pretty obvious that you're trying to hide something from me.” He stays quiet for a moment. “Why?”

You're stunned. You glance away, thinking of what you should answer him. And you can't help but think of how lonely he actually is to the point he seems to be in disbelief that someone does genuinely care for him.

He motions for you to go on. “So? Answer the question.” He sounds impatient, his expression still hard. His gaze doesn't waver as he waits for you to explain yourself.

“I don't know how to explain it to you." You finally answer. “I just care, I really do. Shoko, too, and Yaga as well. Even Nanami who always looks so annoyed around you. Those who are close to you care about you, Gojo. You're our friend.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at your answer. “I never asked you to care about me.” He sounds blunt as he glances back down at the bed, trying to ignore you for a few moments.

He stays quiet again, thinking about your answer. “You don't know how to explain it, huh?” He sighs. “So your only response is to keep being vague and beat around the bush.” He narrows his eyes at you.

“Are you saying that you feel that you have an obligation to care about me because you know people who also do?” He's clearly annoyed by your answer. “Are you doing it out of guilt?” He sounds irritated as he gazes out of the window.

You let out another exasperated sigh at his response. It's clear that he doesn't really get this concept of care from other people.

His clan doesn't care for him as a person, let alone the elders. He grows up spoiled rotten, not out of care, but out of obligation. That's just how it is.

“That's not it!” You raise your voice in annoyance to deny his words. His bad mood starting to affect your own. “What's so hard to understand for you that I genuinely care? It's my choice to care for you because I just do!”

Gojo stays quiet as he listens to you snap at him. A slight frown comes onto his face when he hears your tone. “You just care? Just like that. There's nothing else behind it.” His voice is incredulous as he glares at you.

“Just give me a straight answer.” His eyes scan over you, looking for something. He stares at you defiantly, waiting for your response.

You look at him in disbelief before scoffing, “What else do you want me to say? ‘I like you that's why I care’ or something?” You shake your head after you said the first line mockingly.

“Yes, that's exactly what I want you to say.” His voice is sharp as he continues to glare at you. “Or at least, something along those lines.” He mumbles the finishing sentence.

“I want to know why you care for me. Tell me why.” He seems determined to get you to answer. His eyes narrow further, his gaze piercing. “You're not leaving this room until you give me an answer.”

“Fine, alright, since you're so damn stubborn about it.” You roll your eyes in annoyance. “I care for you as a friend, and I also care for you because I like you more than just a friend. There, happy?” you answer.

“You're so insufferable,” you grumble to yourself, crossing your arms and your body turning away from him.

Gojo looks at you with wide eyes as he tries to process what you just said. His shock continues to linger, making it difficult for him to speak. He looks taken aback at your response, and a smile breaks out on his face. “You like me?” His voice sounds soft, his tone completely shifting.

He scoots closer to you on the bed, almost hesitant. “Is that why you care for me?” He glances at you over your shoulder. “Am I hearing this right?”

After a moment, he leans forward and rests his head on your shoulder. “Thank you.” He sounds genuine as he continues to lean on you. You were stunned once more, but this time because of his unusual tone.

You stay quiet at his reaction, your heart beating fast as you try to process what's going on with his head resting on your shoulder. “Are you pretending to be clueless or are you just that oblivious?” You huff, not looking at him. Your face is heating up when you just realized what you said earlier.

“I'm not pretending to be clueless.” Gojo's voice is softer, almost gentle. “I've always wondered if you care for me as a friend or if there's a hidden meaning behind it. I was hoping it's the latter, but I kept denying it to myself."

He remains still in his position, comfortably leaning against you. His gaze studies your face intently. He scoots even closer to you, his arm wrapping around your waist from behind.

“I like you too,” he whispers. He closes his eyes, nuzzling his face against your shoulder. Gojo's lips curl into a smile as he takes a slow, comfortable breath. You turn your head to the side to take a look at him.

“I've been dropping hints at you since forever, but I've always told myself it must have been a mistake when you replied the same way.” His face is still buried onto your shoulder as he speaks. “I always wondered if you secretly liked me too.”

You could only listen in silence, and your body slowly turning to him from the edge of the bed. You notice his eyes flick down toward your lips. “Am I that clueless, or did I know this whole time?” He pauses and glances back over his shoulder at your face. “It's hard to tell.”

His lips curls upwards as he stares at you, and slowly leans forward towards you. He doesn't look away, watching your face with intent.

His words are quiet, a gentle whisper. “What would you do if I suddenly kissed you right now?”

You didn't expect telling him to rest would end up to this. You stayed here because he asked you to company him, not at all imagining that this would be the place and time where the feelings would flow out.

“You do realize you should be resting by now, right?" You ask back, your voice equally quiet. You admire his handsome face up close. His eyes hold power and beauty, down to the shape of his nose, and down to his plump, pink lips.

Gojo grin at your words. “I can always go to sleep after. I think I have time for this.” His eyes flicker along your jaw, your neck, your lips. His breathing speeds up with each glance.

But finally, he leans in, his lips just a single inch away from touching yours. His eyes flicker downwards one last time. “Would you kiss me back?” He whispers, his voice just barely audible as if the volume was intentionally silenced.

“I don't know, would I?” You ask back again, secretly enjoying the closeness of your faces.

“Only one way to find out...” His eyes flutter closed as he leans forward. His lips touch yours for a brief moment, just a quick taste to test the waters. It's enough to make your heart skip a beat. His lips move slowly at first, but soon he presses his lips more on yours. He keeps one of his arms wrapped tighter around your waist to press his body more against your own, and the other one goes up to hold the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

Gojo's lips are soft and tender on yours, and he slowly runs his tongue against your mouth. His eyes are closed, but he knows where you are. He's focused entirely on how your lips feel against his. You could feel the way his tongue brushing against your lips, and pushing it lightly to part them open for him. You let out a small hum of contentment, feeling the lips of the man you've liked for quite a while is definitely a dream come true.

His tongue slips into your mouth, moving slowly against yours in a slow and gentle dance, his tongue brushing against yours and exploring every corner of your mouth. His breathing quickening ever so slightly as his body leans into yours. His hands go up to the back of your head as he continues to kiss you. As he tastes you, his kisses become more intense and more passionate. 

Once you feel the lack of air in your long, you pull back from the kiss, “Gojo—” you call out to him. He lets out a soft groan at your voice, and slowly pulls away, but only a little. “Satoru.” He corrects you, his lips remain close to yours as he runs his tongue along your lower lip. He pulls away again a little bit, and stares back at you. “What is it?” 

He catches his breath and lick his lips, which are now parted slightly and slightly moist from his saliva. He's more excited than he's been in a long time, like he finally got a breath of fresh air after being stuck underground. “I've wanted to kiss you for ages,” he says quietly, his expression still soft. His eyes flicker down to your lips and he smiles. “You taste delicious.”

“Thanks, you do, too.” You chuckle before pulling away and grabbing the blanket to cover him. “Now, time for bed.” You tuck him in like you're tucking a little child to sleep.

“Hey, what are you doing?” He complains as the blanket is pulled over him and wrapped him up in it. “I thought you said you cared for me! Why am I getting tucked in like a kid?” He looks up at you, his voice full of mock outrage. “I want kiss.” He pouts at you. 

‘He even whines like a child.’ You let out a chuckle at his antics. You ignore him, not giving him the kiss just yet.

“That's why I'm tucking you to bed, Satoru.” You adjust the blanket on his body, staring at his messy hair on the bed. His heart does a small flip, but he quickly hides it as he hears what you say.

He doesn't oppose as you cover him with the blanket. In fact, he looks like a contented child, enjoying the warmth of the blanket and your closeness to him. “How are you going to get sleepy now? I just gave you a big reason to stay awake.”

“Hush, it's time to sleep.” You answer immediately, earning you another look from him.

The covers rustle as he moves around, making himself more comfortable under the blankets. He reaches his hand out to you from under the covers. “Could I pull you in? With me? I don't want you to leave just yet.”

You nod at him. “I'll hold you to my chest instead, okay? You need some comfort now.” You place a hand on his cheek before caressing the soft skin with your thumb. “I will give it to you,” you add quietly, knowing well when you once again see closely to his tired face.

“You want to hold me?” He chuckles quietly. “I wouldn't want anything else.” His eyes flutter shut again as you run your thumb across his cheek. His body begins to relax as he enjoys your touch. “You're so sweet...” He mumbles quietly.

He let out a quiet sigh, his eyes still closed. “When did I begin to be so lucky? To have someone care for me so much?” He leans more onto your hand on his cheek, enjoying your gentle touch.

Gojo waits for you to lay down and get comfortable before pulling the covers over you both. After a moment, he lets his body settle closer to your own, letting you cradle him. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. His face is pressed against your chest. 

You brush your fingers on his soft white hair, holding him close to you. You massage his head slightly once in a while. “You deserve it, Satoru. You really do,” you whisper onto his forehead before kissing it, your lips linger there for a while.

Gojo shudders a bit at your touch. He presses himself closer to you, letting his body sink into the comfort of your embrace. His hand brushes up and down your waist lovingly. You lift your head for a bit to give him another kiss on the temple.

“Mmm...” He sighs contently as he leans into you. His body sinks into yours, becoming one with the comfort and warmth of your touch. His eyes stay closed and his body becomes even more relaxed.

After a moment of silence and you thought he has already fallen asleep, he speaks again, “Do I?” He asks quietly, not quite believing what you just said.

“What am I really good for in the first place other than fighting cursed spirits?” A shadow of doubt flickered across his face. “Am I more than just a strong sorcerer?” 

You keep caressing his hair to bring him comfort. “You're more than just ‘The Strongest Sorcerer’. You're a human. A kind one deep down,” you answer him quietly. “Despite your upbringing." You add with a hint of playfulness as your hand goes down to pinch his nose between your finger before going back up. “And yes, you do deserve it. Never doubt that.”

His ears turns red as he hears your soft answer. He tries to hide it, but you can tell from his body language that he's happy.

“You think I'm kind?” He asks again, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I thought that's something I wasn't.” He chuckles. “Does it show when I'm with you?”

“It shows to other people without you realizing it. I know because I see it myself.” You give him another kiss on the forehead.

He takes in a few breaths as you hold him close, his face inches away from your chest. “It feels so nice to just... not be alone for a while.” His voice is soft and quiet, unlike the usual Gojo Satoru who annoys others for his entertainment.

You answer with a hum. He had lost his best friend, the one that sticks with him through thin and thick on every mission and obstacle. He had lost someone who doesn't makes him feel like he was alone.

“Can I ask you something else? This is the last one, I promise,” he mumbles onto your chest. “You ask a lot of questions today. What is it?” You chuckle but let him ask anyway.

“Why do you keep defending me?” He murmurs. “Why do you care whether I think I deserve it or not?” He tilts his head up to look back at you. “All of these compliments you keep giving me... what are you getting out of this exactly?” He waits for your response, his expression serious.

‘Here we go again.’ You sigh, and this time, you smile at his other why question. There is so much he wants to know, so much he needs to know. If that is what brings him comfort, then you'd gladly give the answer to him.

“Because... I love you.” You hush him up with a kiss, not caring that you just used a strong expression of words. “There, now go to sleep.” You hope this would clear his doubts, at least for a while.

His eyes widen at your reply, his expression is completely frozen after hearing your words. “What?” He asks quietly, wanting to make sure he heard it correctly. “You... love me?” 

After taking a few moments to compose himself, he slowly leans up and kisses you again. He kisses you passionately, putting the last of his energy into kissing your lips.

As he pulls away, he looks back at you. His eyes glimmer with tears that have yet to fall. “You love me?” He whispers again.

“Yes. I do.” You nod at him with a smile. Your thumb brushes against his cheek once more, shifting a bit up to caress the skin below his eye, looking into his teary eyes.

His head sinks into the crook of your neck as a tear rolls down his cheek. “Y-You love me?” He murmurs once more, sounding overwhelmed with emotion as he looks back up at you. “What am I supposed to do when the person I like, the person I've been thinking about this entire time, actually loves me back?”

“Hmmm, I wonder.” You caress the back of his hair, your fingers brushing against his hair, as you let him hide his face in the crook of your neck again. 

He presses himself against you, his body flushes against yours. His arms around your waist tighten its hold. He buries his face against your neck as he nuzzles into your skin.

He closes his eyes and presses his lips against your neck, enjoying the comfort of the moment. “Your skin is... so much warmer than I imagined it'd be.” He whispers to you. His lips graze against your neck as he presses in.

“Can you... Can you hold me for a bit longer?” He whispers. “Could I sleep in your arms for a while more?” You kiss his forehead once again. “I can hold you for as long as you want me to.” You assure him.

His face lights up when he hears your answer. “For as long as I want you to?” He sounds surprised. His arms squeeze around your waist. “Do you promise you won't tire of me? I might not want to leave.”

“Then, don't leave. I want you here with me.” You say quietly. Now that you have him, you want him all for yourself, and you promise yourself to never let him go.

He smiles at your words and nuzzles your neck with his lips. “Well, my favorite place in the world is close to you.” He wraps himself fully around you and buries his face in your shoulder, wanting nothing more than to stay like this for a while.

“I'll never get tired of you, never.” You assure him again. A smile breaks out on his face as a soft chuckle escapes his lips. “You'll never get tired of me?” He whispers to you, his words coming out soft and sweet. He holds you tighter to him, his face still buried against your neck. “Don't make promises you can't keep. I think I'm just that easy to dislike.”

“Not me. Nothing else should matter. I like you, and I love you. I could only hope that's enough to ease you, even just a bit.” You nuzzle your nose on his forehead.

He smiles at you, his eyes slowly fluttering close. “That's more than enough to ease me.” His voice trails off as he lets himself fall asleep. His breathing deepens as he enters into a peaceful slumber.

He's truly comfortable in your arms, his body relaxed against you. He's happy to be with you, happy to be held by you, and happy to be cared for by you.

He dreams that when he wakes up, you would pamper him with the love and care he'd always wanted. A genuine feeling that has managed to warm a place in his heart that he never knew he needed, all that in you, the person he loves.

Let me just test the waters (˃ ᵕ ˂) I'm soft for him.

[myokk]

fast sketch of my one-shot with Ominis💓

legilimency

Word count: 1.700

Rating: M (language)

Ominis Gaunt is a lost case - lost to the whims of one very determined Gryffindor sitting at his side.

They sit in the back of the History of Magic classroom, the only two students not lulled to somnolence by their professor. He: trying his hardest to focus on Professor Binns’ droning (easier said than done). She: trying her hardest to distract Ominis while not being entirely sure of being successful or not (easier attempted than understood).

Professor Binns is completely insufferable, of course. Ominis wonders if the ghost is as blind as he is: Binns willfully ignores the fact that all of his students use his class as an excuse to get a nap in (maybe he simply doesn’t see them sleeping - only one of many reasons why Ominis has decided he could never be a professor), rambling on and on in the most boring way possible. As if he were trying to be as dull as possible (maybe he does it to avoid interacting with the students which…can’t be to blame). In a different life, Ominis could see himself quite liking the subject, but as things stand he despises it.

Especially now.

Ominis fervently wishes that he could fall asleep.

Then, he might avoid hearing her thoughts - they’re consuming him and he can’t ignore them as much as he would like to.

Normally, he loves this class - not the subject, obviously - but the class itself, for the sheer fact that it is the only time where he gets some peace and quiet. Everyone’s minds nice and quiet and shut off for the time being while they sleep. Although he has gotten used to ignoring the thoughts of everyone around him, their various voices mixing and mingling with each other into a dull thrum in the back of his mind, it is nice to have some quiet once in a while.

But right now, with everyone asleep except for the Gryffindor at his side, her thoughts are so loud it’s like she’s screaming at him.

So here he is, wishing he could fall asleep, leave the class, maybe turn off the infernal legilimency that has haunted him his whole life.

(His parents and Marvolo insist it’s a gift handed down from Slytherin himself, just like the Parseltongue Ominis despises. It is not. It is a curse.)

He is stuck listening to her.

It doesn’t help that she seems to have caught on to him - something he had managed to avoid until now. Nobody else, not even Sebastian or Anne, has ever suspected a thing. But, in all fairness, those two are extremely loud and say every single thought that passes through their minds out loud even when they should remain quiet, and nobody else has had the opportunity to spend enough time with Ominis to begin to suspect anything.

Until her.

He had to go and let that blasted girl worm her way into his life, not leaving him alone ever, always looking for excuses to talk and ask his opinion, and being so intelligent that he wanted to invite her to study with him and talk with him and…

Since it happened a few nights ago, he hasn’t stopped cursing himself for that stupid offhand comment he made. They had been studying in silence in the library together, by the history books where nobody else ever ventures (thank you, Professor Binns), and he could have sworn that she asked him if he was finally going to walk her back to her common room (he blames a lack of sleep and wishful thinking for this mishap). His traitorous face had flushed and he had jumped at the chance to escort her - maybe she would let him carry her bag, or… - only to feel his whole body go cold and his stomach drop when her response wasn’t what he’d expected.

A pause: then: a confused voice: ‘Ominis, I didn’t say anything.’

His Gryffindor wasn’t stupid like Gryffindors were normally wont to be. He knew her, and he knew that after his monumental mistake, the gears in her brain were turning and he was terrified that somehow she had figured it out.

(His Gryffindor?)

She had been unusually quiet around him since then, although he bitterly noticed that she was still acting normally with everyone else. Still finding every opportunity to punch Sebastian in the shoulder and laugh with Anne, still whispering with Natsai about Merlin knows what, still…

But she had been avoiding Ominis. He couldn’t stand it.

Well, avoiding him right until this stupid class, when she had to go and sit right next to him (ignoring the fact that she always sits next to him in History of Magic, that everyone already has and adheres to their unofficial seats), and he can’t ignore her.

She’s pretending to take studious notes, but he knows better. The scratching of her quill blending with the droning of Professor Binns’ voice but not drowning out her thoughts. They float above the other noises, her voice sweet and piercing. Ominis wonders vaguely what she’s actually writing, because he’s positive it isn’t notes.

Professor Binns looks so sexy right now with his medieval hat, talking about…whatever it is he’s passionate about. I wonder if he would let me talk to him after class without floating through me like he normally does…

Ominis is determined not to react. She’s obviously trying to bait him. But…what if she is attracted to Professor Binns? Is he an attractive man? At the thought, the fist that’s resting on top of his desk clenches, but he works to make sure his face remains impassive. Apart from a twitch of his lips, he thinks he’s been quite successful.

She: huffing and shifting in her chair, her robes rustling as she crosses her legs. He: keeping his head facing forward, steadfastly ignoring her.

She changes tactics.

Maybe she’s just as insufferable as the other Gryffindors, after all.

I wonder what Ominis would say if he knew I woke up moaning today after a dream about him -

He shifts slightly in his seat, hoping that she’s so busy taking notes (who’s he kidding) that she won’t notice his discomfort as his trousers tighten -

…the girls in my dorm have been bothering me nonstop about who I’ve been mooning over but I don’t want them to…

His hand is in such a tight fist it’s a wonder he’s not breaking any fingers as he tries to remain as still as possible, but his traitorous arousal is making her thoughts harder and harder to ignore. Had he ever been able to ignore her?

…his tongue was deep inside me as I screamed his name…

He feels his face heat up at the thought - where had she learned such vulgar language? - and his whole body stiffens. He’s sure that she can feel the tension and warmth radiating off of him in waves but that…she…his insane little lion keeps shouting at him in the silence of the classroom. She’s now stopped all pretense of taking notes and is sitting stock still.

…his cock deep inside of me as…wait…what else did I hear Garreth say to Leander that night?…um… She shifts uncomfortably, her knee grazing Ominis’s as she moves to squeeze her legs together. It’s all he can do to not groan and remain impassive. Oh god…I…what’s that feeling? This was just supposed to get back at him for probably - maybe - reading my thoughts and I’m officially insane because how would he even be able to do that?…his ears turning red from embarrassment are so adorable and I can’t stand this anymore and…

Ominis tries his hardest not to move his head in her direction. His jaw flexes. Maybe he can drown her out if he starts reciting potions ingredients, or if he focuses on what Professor Binns is saying, but even he knows its futile. He’s hanging on to her every word - thought? - and his head slowly turns in her direction as she keeps going.

…does he know how much I think about him? Oh god, what if he dreams of me the same way I…

He slams the open book in front of him shut, the loud noise causing Sebastian to jerk awake and babble incoherently for a moment before slumping back over his desk, drooling and snoring lightly. Nobody else in the class seems to notice except her of course. Blissfully, she has stopped talking - thinking - and he can finally -

It’s no use. He needs to get out of there. She has invaded his mind and…What if she starts up again with her filthy thoughts that are bleeding into his own and -

Did he hear me? I didn’t actually think…oh god, can he hear me now? What have I done?

Ominis very slowly brings his hand over to where he knows hers is. The quill falls out of her hand and he hears a sharp intake of breath at their contact. His fingers trace her knuckles and then he slowly trails them up her arm. His fingertips are so sensitive that he could swear that he feels every thread that he passes, her skin warm and alive underneath the fabric. Then to her neck, her throat bobs and he feels her erratic heartbeat. Finally, he reaches her face. She remains very, very still as his fingers brush over her features for the first time.

He has never touched someone like this before.

Her skin is like velvet, soft everywhere he touches. Now that he knows what it feels like he’s not sure he can go back to before. His fingers trace the curve of her eyebrows - he finds that her nose is straight before it flares up a tiny bit at the tip - his fingers ghost over her impossibly soft lips. He drags his thumb across her bottom lip as her tongue darts out to wet them. It’s impossibly intimate and the world has melted away and it’s just the two of them in that moment.

He leans forward.

“Ominis, I…” she whispers, stricken.

His hand moves to tuck some of her loose hair away from her face - does she always wear it like this? - and his lips brush against her ear. He inhales deeply, her sweet smell invading his senses. She shivers under his touch and he breathes, “I heard everything.”

[cookierunauprompts]

Can you please do a continuation of req 8 (the masquerade ball on) pleas I really loved it

absolutely, that's one of my favorite reqs that i've ever written. you do not understand how much i love masquerades hehehe

Requested Prompts #40 - 💓

You steadily picked yourself up from the ground, what had happened? The last thing you remember you were at the ball and then... nothing. You couldn't even remember who you were dancing with, if you were even dancing at all. You take a look around, taking in your surroundings... or rather, the lack thereof. You were surrounded by an inky black abyss that stained your vision black yet still allowed you to see, you could tell that it did that because you could see yourself almost perfectly. " Hello?" You call into the abyss, not expecting an answer even though that's what you want. " Is anyone there?" There was a pause, an almost infinitely long pause. For a moment you worried that you were stuck here, in the void, alone. You'd surely go insane if that were the case, but luckily( or perhaps, unluckily depending on how you view it) that wasn't the case. The ground trembled, and you stumbled back just in time to see a quite frankly way too large eye open up where you had been standing. It glowed a bright blue, reminding you of something you just couldn't put your finger on. And slowly but surely, it rotated to look at you. More eyes popped up, each staring at you when they opened. You receded into yourself, backing away even though it seemed that no matter how far you went they always seemed to get closer. You trip over your own feet and soon find yourself falling backwards, with fear clutching you for a mere moment before you are caught. " Now now, Little Star, we can't have you falling over now, can we?" A voice tutted with a chuckle, a rather familiar voice actually... You looked around for the source of the voice, and for who caught you, but you couldn't find anything other than the fact you were caught by a large, shadowy hand. You squeaked with surprise as you saw it's fingers curl around your form. " Y-you... Just who are you?" You called out into the darkness, your response beginning with a maniacal laugh. " Oh what a shame it is that you don't even recognize me... I'm rather hurt, Little Star." The voice cooed, and that's when it hit you. This voice belongs to that cookie at the masquerade ball... and the one that appeared in your dreams, the one you made that deal with... Oh sweet witches, just what did you get yourself into? " Show yourself!" You commanded, yet you were unable to hide the treble of fear that wormed its way into your tone. " Ehehe... Eheheha... Ehe he ha ha hah!" The voice cackled, you could feel the two largest eyes, the ones that looked like they actually belonged to a face, peering down at you. " Oho? So the princess wants me to reveal myself? I might as well indulge the wishes of her highness then~!" The voice chirped.

You stared on in a mixture of fear and awe as the Shadows receded to reveal the large figure of the cookie before you, bearing the same silhouette as the jester that appeared in your dream, only colored in. His heterochromatic blue eyes stared down at you as a grin stretched to be far too wide across his face. " Why hello there little princess! I'm so terribly sorry to have kept you waiting, but now we can finally meet face to face! Or well, face to real face." The jester chuckled, you couldn't help but feel like you've heard about this... well, this jester before. The cogs in your brain turn and turn, where have you heard about a Jester who could manipulate the Shadows to do his bidding? Ah, that's right, from your father. This was one of the five beasts, the fallen heroes. Shadow Milk Cookie. You fucked up big time just by making a deal with him in the first place, and you could tell that he could tell based just on your expression that you'd come to this realization. " Aw, there's no need to look so concerned! I do intend to keep my end of our little deal." You leaned away from him. " Considering your track record for deceiving cookies... I doubt it." You say, glancing up at him suspiciously. The gargantuan jester sighed dramatically. " You really don't remember out contract, do you?" He asked, to which you responded to with a shake of your head. " Fine, fine, I'll explain it again from the top." Shadow Milk Cookie cleared his throat, beginning to speak. " The very notion of our deal was that you would give me what you desired most in exchange for what you valued most, yes? What you wanted the most was freedom... Yet 'Freedom' is also what you value the most. So you put me into a bit of a conundrum as to how to collect what you valued while also giving you the freedom you ever so desperately desired." You gulped, you had a rather concerning feeling about this. You felt like you had acted selfishly in the past, far too selfish. " So then I had a thought!" The jester chirped, not helping the sinking feeling in your gut in the slightest. " What if I exchanged the freedom of your kingdom in exchange for yours? It was a truly marvelous idea if I do say so myself!" And there it was.

[differenteagletragedy]

I am afraid worms have invaded my brain and they are eating away at everything that is not OUR LIFE SWAP AU

This is an AU in which Baxter is your best friend that moved in town when you were 8, Cove is the boy from the city you met when you were 13, and Derek is the boy who comes into town for the summer when you're 18. This one is a reworking of the original "Mountains" scene.

OG Swap here -- another part here -- another here -- one more here

In the ten years you'd been friends, you and Baxter had rarely gotten into any arguments. You both just got along so well, and he was agreeable to a fault, always so against being confrontational or divisive. And so for all this time, with maybe just a small handful of hiccups, you'd just gone on easily, having a grand time together.

But that night, as he sat on your bed watching you pack your things to go on a camping trip with Derek, he seemed perfectly willing to fight.

Derek had rented the empty condo across the street from you for the summer. He was a year older than you, a college athlete, and he was doing some private training with a coach in the city. That weekend, he had a few days off and he'd wanted to go camping in the mountains. He'd asked you to join him, and you said yes. He was sweet, and it was easy being around him.

Baxter, meanwhile, was being anything but sweet.

"You're the mountain boy," you told him, trying to pull him out of whatever funk he was in. "What do you think, will I need a jacket?"

"And proper shoes," he said quietly, arms and legs crossed tightly. "You'll want to bring something for the weather too, the forecast is calling for rain."

"What would you suggest? Raincoat? Umbrella? Poncho?"

He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. You waited, but he wouldn't speak.

"What is it?" you asked.

He looked up at you -- a glare, almost -- and said, "I would suggest you not go at all, but it seems you've made up your mind."

"What's the issue with me going?" you asked, getting even more confused than you had been. "I'm not going to be gone for long, just a couple of days."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

He paused, then, keeping his eyes down this time, said, "You don't know him."

"Derek?" you asked. "Sure I do. We've hung out plenty of times. You've hung out with him too, he's the most harmless guy on the planet."

"But you're going to be going off alone with him, hours away, together in a tent in the middle of the woods," he argued.

"And?"

You studied him, trying to understand why he was reacting so strongly to this. You couldn't see a clear answer on his face, but you did see he was digging his fingernails into his arms.

"Seriously, what's the problem?" you said, sitting down beside him and grabbing his hands so he'd stop. "What's going on?"

Baxter still didn't seem eager to talk about it, but something in him softened when took his hands. He held them gently, running his thumb over your knuckles, and said, "He likes you."

"No, he doesn't," you said quickly, sure that wasn't the case. "We're friends."

"You can't possibly be this oblivious," he muttered, and you yanked your hands away from his.

"If you're going to be rude, then you can leave," you told him, getting angry.

"I'm not trying to be rude, I'm trying to get you to understand that perhaps going off for a jaunt in the woods with the Incredible Hulk that you've known for approximately two minutes isn't the smartest plan."

You'd been getting angry before -- you were fully there now.

"I'm not stupid," you said, standing up again, "and you're being a jerk. What do you think he's going to do, abduct me or something?"

Baxter stood as well, and took a step closer to you. He was so slow to anger, except when he pointed it inward, but it felt like he was staring daggers at you now.

"I just want you to be safe," he said sharply. "I care about you very much, and I --"

"If you care about me, then trust that I can make my own decisions, I'm not some dumb, helpless --"

"I know that!" he said, near yelling, moving closer still. "That's not what I'm saying, you're not listening to me."'

"I am listening to you, you're --"

"You're not," he said firmly, closing the distance between you entirely. "I don't want you to go off with some handsome, well-mannered boy who obviously has feelings for you. That's what I'm saying."

"Why?"

"Because I do know him, and I know exactly how charming he is. I know he wouldn't hurt you, but I ..." he trailed off, running a hand through his hair. His anger was turning into anxiety.

"You what?" you asked, softening. "Please just talk to me, Baxter."

Instead of talking, he took you in his arms. Surprised, you hugged him back. Then you felt his breath, hot against your ear, and he said something so low you barely heard him.

"Please tell me you won't sleep with him," he said.

Appalled, you pushed him off of you. Your anger had returned tenfold.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, the frustration clear in your tone. "I'm not even dating Derek, but it's not any of your business what we do anyway. Why you even care this much?"

He didn't say anything, and he wouldn't meet your eyes again. You knew this phase of the Baxter emotional cycle -- he was shutting down.

"Go home," you said finally.

Without looking at you, he swiftly moved to leave your room. You heard his footsteps go down the hall, and after a moment you heard the front door shut.

Then you heard your phone go off in your pocket.

It was a text from Derek that read, "Hey! Excited for tomorrow?"

"Yep!" you replied. And you were. Baxter wasn't going to ruin that for you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, you met Derek at his condo, and you left bright and early. He was all smiles and laughs and brightness, and the drive to the campsite was fun. It was always fun with Derek.

He took the lead when it was time to set up your things, not wanting you to lift a finger as he put up the tent. You did anyway, of course, and it was obvious how much he appreciated it.

It was getting into the evening after it was all said and done, and Baxter had been right -- the rain did come. Derek didn't mind, he just pulled you into the tent and zipped it up until it passed. And with his warm presence so close, you didn't mind either.

You set about situating your sleeping bags and the other things that you'd brought into the tent with you. When you were done, you still heard the rain falling.

"Guess this is it for tonight," Derek said, not sounding too bothered. "Don't worry, it's supposed to be clear tomorrow. It might be muddy, but I think we'll still have fun."

You smiled at him, happy to be spending the time with him. You hadn't known him too long, Baxter was right about that, and you didn't think he liked you, at least not in a romantic way. But he was a good guy. And it felt nice to be here with him.

"So, how do you want to pass the time?" he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"This is your trip," you told him, playfully nudging his shoulder. "You go first."

"Ok," he said, then approached you. Before you knew it, his arms were locked around your waist, pulling you in tight against him. He smiled, looking proud of himself.

"I made my move," he said. "Your turn."

You pushed everything out of your head -- your fight with Baxter, your years-long crush on him that hadn't gone anywhere for so long you thought it never would. Your reservations, your fears, your nervousness, you shoved it all away and put yourself firmly in the moment.

Then you kissed him.

[whichwaywest]

Ghost x f!reader

Hi friends! I’m not used to writing in second person, so this was a fun change in POV. Just a little brain worm that I wanted to jot down.

TW: angst, light description of major bodily injury, mild smut

MDNI

- - -

The street lamps have just come on when he appears on your doorstep.

A fine mist hangs in the air when you open the door, jerking your chin to direct him inside. You pull your cardigan more tightly around you.

Heavy footsteps move slowly to the warm glow of your small kitchen, and you carefully avoid the wet spots on the floor left by his military-issue boots.

Without speaking, you move to put the kettle on, trying to remember how he takes his tea. It’s been what, six months since he was last here? You can’t remember exactly, but you know it was warmer.

You twist your head, barely looking back over your shoulder.

“Been a minute, hasn’t it?”

He grunts in agreement, and you don’t press any further. He wouldn’t tell you what he’s been up to even if you asked, anyway.

You carefully lower yourself into the chair across from him, acting as if he’d spook if you moved too quickly. Perhaps he would. It usually took a few minutes for him to find his voice whenever he came to see you.

You meet his gaze with your own. His eyes look thoughtful, though you can’t read his expression with certainty while he wears that balaclava. You move your gaze over his hulking figure, almost comically large in your kitchen chair with a few remaining pieces of his tactical gear still tethered to his form.

“You been alright, then?”

You flick your eyes upward at the question, lifting a corner of your mouth in amusement at his gruff tone.

“Yes, been fine. Can’t say much has happened since last time.”

He grunts again before returning to silence. You set to begin your eyes’ journey over his person one more when you are jerked out of your reverie by the kettle’s whistle. Simon is, of course, unaffected by the noise.

You know the sorts of noises he’s used to hearing, and the tea kettle is a paltry comparison.

It had taken you quite some time to get used to anything other than noise when you first returned home from the service. You’d grown accustomed to the constant chatter and movement around the base where you were stationed, and in your early days of discharge you would frequently think back to a time where you would have given anything for a moment of uninterrupted solitude.

You knew Simon wouldn’t be away from work long enough to begin to find the quiet comforting.

You bring a steaming pair mismatched mugs to the table, setting one in front of Simon. You’ve added one lump to his, which you vaguely remember is his preference. You blow gently on your cuppa as you settle back into your chair.

“How are the boys?” You ask, slowly turning your spoon in the liquid in front of you. Simon pauses, and you’re not quite sure if it’s hesitation he’s feeling as he moves to pull the balaclava off of his head.

Surely you’re well past that discomfort by now.

Still, you wait for him to speak before raising your eyes to his face. He clears his throat and shrugs one shoulder.

“They’re good. Been busy lately, I reckon I’m sick of hearing wee Soap run his mouth,” He paused before continuing, “… he asked after you.”

That made you raise your eyebrows in surprise. Completely abandoning your former colleagues had never been your intention, but the woven fabric of their lives and yours had become polar opposites practically overnight.

It’s not like you were sure how to start a letter with anything other than “Hey mate, how’re things? Been doing just fine since my leg got blown off.”

You wince as you bring your hand down to rest on the metal joint at your knee.

“Did he now? And what did you tell him?”

Simon shook his head. “Price. Told ‘im that to his knowledge, you were doing well. Offered to check on you.”

“And that’s why you’re here?”

You think Simon might shake his head again, but he remains still, steely gaze fixed on you.

“You know it’s not.”

You simply nod in response. Of everybody, you knew that Simon was the least likely to take pity on you, at least outwardly. It was partially the reason why you entertained these periodic visits, but made no real effort to stay in touch with the remaining team members.

The two of you fall into a companionable silence. You have grown to appreciate the similarities with which you approached conversation with each other. He didn’t ask after your traumas, and you didn’t ask after his.

You sip your tea, wondering if Price would ask Simon about you. You didn’t think he knew about these visits, but perhaps he suspected. You wouldn’t really be bothered either way; it wasn’t in Price’s nature to pry.

Simon’s chair creaks as he moves to stand, slightly stiff from the cold and physical exhaustion. He moves slowly over to your side of the table, as if you would spook this time, and offers his gloved hand to help you stand. He pulls you flush against him as you rise from your seat.

You swallow heavily in anticipation of the other reason for these infrequent drop-ins.

Your eyes immediately go to his lips. Thin, a bit dry, with a scar running noticeably through the top one. He’s got more stubble than you’re used to seeing him with, and you raise your free hand to stroke his strong jaw, muscles working underneath your touch.

In these moments, you don’t mind being treated as fragile. Your stomach flutters at the way his arms wrap around you as if you might break before he slowly brings his lips down to brush against your own.

You allow yourself to melt into Simon’s embrace. With practiced fluidity, he eases his tongue between your parted lips, deepening the kiss.

You remember being surprised when you’d learned years ago that Simon was a damn good kisser - back when he was still Ghost to you. Something about his stern disposition and intimidating stature had given you the impression that not many women would have the balls to come onto Simon Riley. Soap and Gaz had often spoken of their conquests both on and off-base, but Simon had never joined in their banter. Clearly his love life (or perceived lack thereof) was something he kept as private as the rest of his life.

You’d been younger and angrier when Simon first kissed you, burning with a desire to prove yourself to your team. You had been the kind of soldier to push yourself past every possible limit if it was done for the greater good of the group. The harsh physical and mental demands meant that your emotional range shortened to include a simmering rage as it’s primary member. Simon had once asked you what you were so angry at.

You remember feeling surprised at his question. “Nothing,” you’d replied. Everything, you’d meant.

You could laugh now if your mouth weren’t otherwise occupied. You had no idea what it meant to be angry back in those days. No clue that eventually, anger just turns into exhaustion, then resignation.

Simon tightens his grip on you and groans as you sink your teeth into his lower lip. You tangle your fingers in his sandy hair, encouraged by his response.

It might have been a few months, but you clearly still knew what worked.

You gasp for air as Simon breaks your kiss, nostrils flaring in an effort to manage his breath. He lifts his hand, bringing his fingers to rest under your chin as he tips your face further up towards his.

“Shall we head upstairs then, love?”

You nod, not removing your eyes from his.

Your shared regard is broken when he suddenly reaches down to lift you into his arms as if you weigh nothing. He keeps one arm wrapped around your back, the other beneath the crook of your knee, not hesitating to grip your prosthetic in his massive hand as if it were the flesh of your thigh.

He never was afraid to address the elephant in the room.

Simon always carries you upstairs for this part. You never protest, never attempt to follow him on foot. You allow him to pull you against his chest, close enough to hear the heavy beating of his heart.

Ironically, it had been the sound Simon’s heartbeat that had told you that you were alive when you were pulled from the collapsed building in Fallujah. You were so disoriented that at first you’d thought that you’d maybe just woken up from a particularly strange dream, but the deafening noise and heat around you instantly made you question if you weren’t just burning to death.

Simon had carried you away from it all, through the worst of it. He hadn’t said anything about your blood practically covering the whole of him.

That night was when he stopped being Ghost to you.

Simon always lowers you to the bed with a deceptive gentleness that belies his large build. You let out a content sigh as you feel his hands and lips move across your figure. He’s removing your clothing quickly, and you see no reason to delay, so you lift yourself to assist.

You already know that Simon will push your body to its limits for the next several hours to come. He will take his time, first bringing you to completion with his fingers, then his tongue. He’ll grip your hair in his fist as you take him in your mouth, whispering filthy words of encouragement as he thrusts as far as your throat will allow.

He’ll want to take you from behind first, laying you flat on your stomach and covering your body with his. You don’t at all mind the sensation of Simon becoming a weighted blanket, and bask in the feeling of him gripping your waist as he angles himself against your ass cheeks.

He’s always mindful of your physical limitations when your bodies join over and over again, sometimes spooning you to his front or pulling you to lie atop him, back against his chest as he thrusts upward into you.

He’ll want to finish with you on your back, peppering your face with soft kisses as he brings you to your peak. He’ll alternate between curses and praise as you scream your final climax before burying himself to the hilt and spilling himself inside you.

Then, he’ll pull you against him so you can once again hear the pounding of his heart. If he’s feeling especially territorial, he’ll use his fingers to push whatever spend has leaked from your pussy back into you.

You’ll lie there chest to chest, legs tangled together. Warm skin against cool metal.

You rarely speak afterwards, oftentimes so tired that you immediately fall asleep in Simon’s arms. He’s teased you before for snoring, but it’s hard not to allow yourself to relax fully when you have him with you as you sleep.

He’ll rise before you in the morning, moving practically in silence as he pulls his clothes and gear back on. You enjoy drowsily watching his muscles and hands flex as he dresses himself. He always bends to kiss you on the forehead before heading downstairs to once again don his mask when he goes back into the waiting world.

“I’ll be seeing you soon, love.”

Good thing you’re used to the quiet that is left behind once he leaves.

You’ve no idea how long it will be before you see him again. Sometimes it’s only a few weeks, other times it’s several months. You get no warning for when he will arrive, and you sometimes wonder if you haven’t missed him knocking when you were out of the house. You’ve allowed yourself to believe, by some miracle, that each time he visits you is not the last.

You’re always surprised at how it feels like you’ve lost a little part of yourself each time Simon leaves your home. This is a sensation you’re well familiar with, you’ve lost more pieces of yourself than you care to remember.

At least there’s hope that this one will return to you when it can.

[dracobrooklyn]

Durge x Reader Part 1

When you really like the design of the Cannon DragonBorn and his voice is like butter making you melt. I was sad you can't romance him and your the playable character instead. So Here I am going to write Headcannons of what if he was a romanceable NPC that was in your party. These are my thoughts taking bits and pieces from the Cannon and putting my thoughts and ideas into Durge.

|| MDNI || 18+ this will contain Themes of Language, Violence, and of course Sexual Content. DO NOT READ!!

Cannon!Durge x Tav!Fem!Reader

This will be in a Fem!Reader POV!!

Word count: 1.44K

Part 1: Meeting Durge

Durge is a White Dragonborn that is a Storm Sorcerer. Literally born from the blood of Bhaal to be the perfect monster for his destruction on the world. Though... he does not remember. After being taken by the Mindflayers. He does not remember anything before he was a prisoner. The Ship Crashing, his head spinning with so many thoughts. He only remembers his name and that he can cast magic thankfully. But everything else? He's lost. Of course You Find him being attacked by a group of Goblins, coming to his aid, to make sure he is okay. Of course he's hesitant, but he thanks you for your help. You of course ask him his name, Durge. A Strange name but it's his, nothing with it. He would ask if you know where they are, and of course replying that you weren't sure yourself, being in the ship and all, you were snatched away by the mindflayers as well. A little frustrated not sure what to do, he gives you his thanks and about to leave. Is that such a good idea? To go out alone especially that you saw him get attacked by Goblins? No. You ask him if he wish's to tag along with you and your other party members. Strange bunch... why not? He accepts. After all where was he to go? He has no memories. Everything is dark. And you were all trying to find a way to get this cursed parasite out of your brain... before you did turn into a Mindflayer. Maybe you will be able to help him remember. Durge is a little distant towards your other party members. Wasn't a fan of Astarion, not one bit. The way he acted, the way he talked to you as if you were insignificant. You were very much capable of defending yourself, you saved Durge's life. So he always gives the pale elf a glare. Shadowheart he does not mind but her pride and stubbornness can be a little annoying. She at least gives you a little respect when she talks to you.

As your party grow, you get to try to help Durge try to get some sort of sense with his memories. But nothing seems to happen. He can only think about maybe... maybe he had a family or friends waiting for him to come home, or perhaps he has a lover, or maybe something else. You definitely joked to him he could be a prince that was out hunting, he did find the joke amusing though. It was good to have some sort of conversation and company. Being alone with no memories was a little sad and lonely at times.

You were having a hard time sleeping. Specifically with the damn worm wiggling into your brain. So you noticed Durge was having a hard time sleeping as well, tossing and turning into his tent, into his sleeping area. You see how his lips curl back almost in a growl showing his teeth, his eye crest furrowing either in pain or anger as his claws gripped onto the blankets, how he curls up in a fetal position. Is he okay? You quickly went to him to wake him up, and you do. He grabs your arm and pins you down onto the ground his clawed hand wrapped around your neck growling, glaring his red blood eyes into your eyes. He pauses and noticed it's you. He get's off you quickly, not wearing a shirt and only trousers in his sleep wear as Durge feels so awful. He almost hurt you. He apologizes and ask's if you were alright, of course you were shaken but told him you were okay. Everything was alright.

Those dreams... nothing but blood... screaming... yells of anguish. Remembering his dream too well, just looking down at his hands, remembering in his dream he had blood on them. Once you did go back to sleep at your bed roll and he looked at you... what if your blood was on his hands... they started to shake. Fear escaped him, he didn't go back to sleep that night. He just laid in his bed roll in his tent frightened he could have killed you.

He felt awful the next day and wanted to apologize. Durge said if there was anything to he could do for your forgiveness. Of course, you were kind to him. "You had a nightmare Durge, perhaps they were memories, not good memories but maybe your memories are trying to come back to you, and it was too much." You could see the look on his face, he looked a little... worried. You asked if Durge wanted to talk about it. He only shook his head and said "No I... I like to hope they are nightmares, and not memories."

He very much appreciated your kindness, he really was happy that you didn't treat him any different from your party members. When he was distant, it was him just thinking, trying to piece together his "Dream" he had last night. You gave him a journal that you bought from the Druids grove, for Durge to write his dreams so maybe he can go back to the, as you smile at him and say "If you need company tonight... if you have a nightmare, don't hesitate to wake me okay?" And Right there... that's when the feelings start to blossom. The gift of the Journal. The Way how you were comforting on his darkest moments, trying to remember his past. The Way you treated him normally. You invited Durge to the fire to talk with the others, bring him into the conversation, telling you about your past. Where you lived growing up. Durge is very envious of your memories. That you have them, though he out right does not tell you. He wants to know his past so much, who the fuck he is!? It leaves him in a bad mood leaving you with the others at the campfire and heading into his tent for the night. Going to sleep a little mad... but also sad at the same time. Maybe he had a group of friends that miss him dearly. That laughed with him like a bunch of chumps. He wasn't sure.

[meguwumibear]

wc: 3k and contains: Vash walks in on Nico and female!reader having sex and is invited to join. piv sex, tit play, some instructional fingering, cum eating, virgin!vash, light angst re: Vash's scars...happy to add warnings as requested but i don't believe it needs any unless threesomes aren't your thing!

There are…noises coming from inside Vash’s apartment. Not the usual sound of tv commercials or Spotify ads—ads that he hears quite often since Nicholas refuses to just pay for premium—but the sound of something throatier, something base and primal.

A pair of guttural grunts and groans fill the air, one deep and masculine, the other lighter and almost feminine in nature. They compliment each other, so in sync it’s like it’s been rehearsed. A symphony of unrestrained ‘oo’s and ‘ah’s and the occasion ‘fuck’ seep out from under the doorway and worm themselves into Vash’s brain, imbedding themselves so deep he doesn’t even realize he’s slipping his keys into the lock until it’s too late.

The sight before him gives him pause. Okay, sure, he could probably guess from the needy whines and desperate cooing that Nicholas was having sex, but hearing his roommate fuck and seeing his roommate fuck are two entirely two different things.

Shirts and pants and underwear—his and yours—litter the floor, like crumbs meant to lore an ant. The two of you hadn’t even made it to the bedroom. Nicholas has you shameless pressed against their shared sofa. A sofa that Nai and Meryl and Milly sometimes crash on when they’re in town.

The violation of the shared space should bother Vash more, but all he seems able to focus on right now is the wonder that is Nicholas D. Wolfwood’s bare ass. Plump and round and firm. Not quite as dark as the rest of him, but still a beautiful, tan color. So muscular it barely even jiggles as he pounds away at your pussy.   

It’s you who sees him first as you angle your head back to nibble at Nicholas’s shoulder. Your eyes widen in surprise as they catch sight of him. He figures he should probably leave or apologize or do literally anything other than stand there like a stupid fucking statue, but that’s all his treacherous body seems capable of at the minute.

“Nicooo,” you whine—and, hang on a minute…Nico? Nico?!—“ugh, fuck, you didn’t tell me you had such a pretty roommate.”

You blink at Vash through long, thick lashes, eyes wide and inviting. If his best friend and roommate wasn’t already balls deep inside you, he might think you were trying to seduce him.

“Fuck,” Nico grunts as he continues to slam into you, hips smacking loudly against your ass. Vash’s presence has apparently had little to no effect on either of your libidos, “little bugger’s supposed to be at his brother’s this weekend. Guess he came back early.”

Neither of your movements halt, but you’re both looking at him now. He can feel his cheeks heat with what he tells himself is embarrassment. The flush creeps along his whole face, all the way to the tips of his ears which he imagines are as red as his favorite jacket by now.

He isn’t sure what to do with himself. Can’t figure out where to look. Anywhere other than at the two of you would probably be a good place to start, but he just can’t seem to tear his eyes away from Nico’s heavy, swinging balls, or the little sneak peak he can see of Nico’s thick cock pistoning in and out of your quivering hole.

There’s a heat pooling in his belly now, stronger even than that of his cheeks. He’s so sexually inexperienced it takes him a minute to understand what’s happening to him. Watching and listening to the two of you fuck has his dick half hard.

He shifts his weight a bit from foot to foot, pondering how to best handle this. It isn’t too late for him to turn around and leave. He can always apologize to Nico later. He’s not usually the kind of guy to hold a grudge. He grew up Catholic or some shit, so his people are all about forgiveness.

“Oi,” you shout, snapping him out of his stupor, “you just gonna stand there all night wondering at your semi, or are you gonna make yourself useful and join us? I got more than one hole you know. Nico’s only occupying one of ‘em.”

“Shit,” Nico swears, his thrusts unsteady, “keep milking me like that and I’m gonna blow before the brat even gets the chance to whip it out.”

Vash sucks in a breath so quickly he chokes on it. Fuck, he can barely think let alone breathe with the two of you staring at him like that. He still has half a mind to bolt and slam the door behind him, but the other, more pertinent half of him can’t stop wondering what Nico’s cock would taste like now that it’s all covered in your slick.

“Think he needs some more convincing, baby,” Nico says, maneuvering the two of you so that he’s now seated on the sofa with his chest pressed against your back. The two of you didn’t break stride once during the switcheroo, which does give Vash some pause. There’s no possible way he could join the two of you; you’re way out of his league.

“Still watching, Vash?” Nico asks, roughly palming at your tits. “You can touch her you know. She wants you to. Her pussy gripped me so fucking hard when she caught sight of you. Who knew I snagged such a dirty little exhibitionist?”

Vash watches Nico pinch and pull at your already swollen nipples with rapt curiosity. It’s shameless the way you arch your back, encouraging him to pluck and prod at you. He wonders if this is all a performance for his benefit or if you really do enjoy having your nipples tweaked like that.

“Vashhh,” you keen, “c’mere, pretty boy. Wanna know that the mouth feels like wrapped around my teat.”

Vash no longer cares if you’re acting or not; an invitation is an invitation, and he’s dying to do the very thing you’ve just goaded him to.

He makes his way to you slowly, like he’s still not sure about the whole thing. He figures there’s no need for his hesitation; you clearly don’t startle easy. But he’s nervous damn it! Watching Nico paw at you has his dick standing at full attention. It bulges uncomfortably against the cotton of his boxers, restricted and aching and already starting to leak.

“Atta boy,” you coo encouragingly as he drops to his knees. Vash is taller than the average man, so even kneeling like this he’s eye level with your perfect tits.

“C’mon, baby,” you whine, reaching out to grab his hair and deciding against it. You must be waiting for him to make a move.

His touch is gentler than Nico’s, soft and curious as he glides the smooth pad of his thumb across your puckering areolas. Your reaction is immediate and seemingly genuine. A shiver skitters down your spine, and at this distance he can see the way you tighten around the base of his friend’s cock.

“Like that?” he asks just to confirm.

“Yeah, baby, just like that,” you smile.

“Tch,” Nico grumbles from behind you, “you don’t gotta be so fucking gentle. She’s not gonna break.”

Vash frowns, rolling your swollen bud between two fingers, “what if I wanna be gentle?”

You seem to like it anyway. His eyes are glued to your pussy and its puffy lips, mesmerized by the way it flutters around Nico’s impressive length as he works your nipples. He squeezes and you clench. He releases and you relax.

“Suck, Vash,” you moan, “Suck, Vash. Please. Please.”

Who is he to deny you? Vash hasn’t sucked a tit since he was still in diapers and breastfeeding, but he figures you never really lose the instinct. He wraps his lips around you, careful of his teeth and begins to tenderly suckle on your left breast. You throw your head back and moan so loudly he’s sure even the neighbors can hear you now.

His still clothed crotch is pressed against your leg. He’s been absentmindedly humping it ever since he dropped down before you, but his thrusts are purposeful now. It takes him time to find a rhythm that he likes. It’s tricky, balancing his own pleasure with yours, but he wants to make sure this is as good for you as it is him. When you realize what he’s doing, you shift your leg encouragingly, coaxing him to grind against it.

“Such a good boy,” Nico laughs.

“Like a bitch in heat,” you return, twisting your fingers through his hair, blunt nails biting into the skin of his scalp.

You use the hair you’ve gathered to yank him off your tit and slot his lips against yours. He has to rise a bit to reach you, and when he settles again it’s over your thigh which feels somehow even better than your leg.

He licks into your mouth experimentally and you kiss back with enthusiasm, running your tongue along the tips of his teeth, the roof of his mouth, anywhere the muscle can reach. He tries to mirror your actions, but they’re foreign to him. He swirls his tongue around your own a few times in practice.

When he pulls away, your lips are red and plump from the friction, a thread of translucent spit connects the two of you. He leans back and back and back until the thin thread snaps completely and what’s left of the liquid dribbles messily down your chins.

“Nico,” he whines as he grabs at Nico’s hair. He isn’t as coordinated as the two of you, but he manages to pull Nico into a deep, heated kiss. Nico smiles into the kiss, wrapping his large palm around the back of Vash’s neck to push him impossibly closer.

The moment Nico’s fingers graze the back of Vash’s neck he’s cumming. Hot, thick ropes of cum shoot out of him, soaking his underwear and likely seeping through the denim of his jeans as well. He ruts himself through the orgasm, using your leg as a toy to get off while he wantonly moans into his roommate’s open mouth.

When he finally pulls away from Nico, you’re grinning at him.

“Did our cute little virgin cream his pants?” you tut, but there’s no real bite to it. Not while you’re on the verge of cumming yourself, hole creamy and brimming with an off-white mix of your arousal and Nico’s pre.

You wind your fingers into his shirt as if to rid him of it, and he pulls back so violently he falls from your lap, hitting the hard ground with a deafening thud.

He’s absolutely mortified. If it were physically possible for his face to get any redder it would, but luckily, he hit max redness while he came all over himself.

When he dares to look back and you and Nico, the two of you have stopped fucking. It’s the first time all night the two of you have called it quits. Nico’s still balls deep inside you, but neither his focus nor yours is on that.

He’s the only one still wearing clothes, but he feels bare before you. Clumsy and stupid, like the awkward man child Nai always accuses him of being. He’s ruined both your nights in one, dumbass move. He feels so bad he could cry. In fact, he can feel warm, wet tears beginning to pool in the corner of his eyes.

“Sorry!” he manages. “I’m sorry. I just, uh, well I’ve got some pretty gnarly scars is all. Didn’t want to kill the mood.” He rubs soothingly at the back of his neck, taking deep breaths as he wills the tears threatening to spill away.

“Vash-” Nico starts, but Vash cuts him off again.

“Sorry! I’m so sorry. Ha, I, uh, I’ve never done anything like this before. It was super nice of you guys to include me. Didn’t mean to fuck it up. Anyway, I really did cream my pants lol, so the two of you should go ahead and finish. It’s only fair.”

You exchange a look with Nico he can’t decipher before saying, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have assumed anything. I’ll ask next time before trying something.”

Fuck, now your apologizing?

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Really! It’s okay. I don’t need you to apologize. Sex is kind of a clothes off activity. It’s a pretty fair assumption. I don’t mind watching you guys finish if you’re okay with me staying. I’d, uh, I’d like to learn actually.”

You turn back to exchange another undecipherable look with Nico.

“Christ,” Nico swears, “have you always been this cute?” The question must be rhetorical because he’s adding, “C’mere then, pretty boy. Let me show you how to make a woman cum.”

“What about you?” you and Vash ask in tandem.

“Already did,” he smirks. “Twice.”

As if to prove it he quickly slips out of you and without his cock to keep you all plugged up ropes of silky, white cum gush out of your pussy, painting your pretty lips and even slicking up the puckering hole of your ass.

“She’s definitely close,” Nico says, pushing his spend back inside you with two thick fingers. “But I’ve been neglecting her poor little clit.” He flicks your swollen nub for emphasis and you immediately cry out.

“Hush,” Nico coos, “I’m gonna get you there, sweetheart. Just wanna make sure he’s watching. Don’t be selfish now, you’ve been so good for me all night.”

He sneaks an assessing look at Vash whose eyes haven’t once left the two of you.

“Most women can’t cum from penetration alone,” he says when he’s certain Vash is watching, and really, it’s not like Vash was going to turn down his roommate’s generous offer. “You gotta stimulate them here too. Different women are going to like different speeds and shit, but once you get a feel for woman it isn’t too hard to read them.”

He’s circling the edge of your swollen clit with his thumb, not quite touching the throbbing thing yet. He teases the skin around it, playing with the mix of liquids gathered there.

“Best to make sure you're lubed up when you touch her. Clits are sensitive. They like the lubrication. I’m using my cum and her juices, but spit works too if you haven’t got her off yet.”

He’s thumbing at the bud now, slow and teasing, as if he wants to see just how long he can keep you teetering on the cruel edge of pleasure and pain.

“There are toys you can use to help you out, but we’ll save that demo for another night.”

Your body visibly jerks as Nico begins to pick up the pace.

“She’s sensitive even though she hasn’t cum. It happens sometimes. Especially after a cream pie’s been bullied into them. Penetrative sex is pleasurable for women, despite the fact they can’t usually get off on it alone. It’s even better for them when they’re with a man who knows how to hit all the right spots.”

“Nicooo,” you whine. “Please. Wanna cum. Wanna cum so bad.”

“Yeah, princess?” he hums. “Wanna cum all over my fingers? Wanna ruin this fucking couch? It was expensive you know. Might have to pitch in and help us buy another.”

“Anything. Anything,” you cry, clear, crystalline tears streaming down your face. “Fuck, Nico, ‘m so empty. I need, ah, I need-”

“I know what you need, baby,” he says, stuffing two fingers back inside you and curling them against the sensitive flesh of your walls.

He’s able to hit the exact spot you need him to, and the motion along with the circles he’s drawing into your clit has you cumming so hard you see stars, nails biting so harshly into the skin of his thighs you draw tiny beads of blood.

He fingers you through the orgasm, fingers unrelenting until he has you screaming and squirting around them.

When your orgasm finally ebbs he shoves the two cum covered fingers into your mouth and you obediently began to suck on them as he orders you to clean up your mess, savoring the salty taste of both your releases.

He slips some of the cum into his own mouth too, and into Vash’s when the nerd finally works up the balls to ask. He doesn’t stop shoveling cum into your mouths until he’s certain there’s absolutely no cum left to swallow.

It’s Vash who suggests a shower. Nico calls dibs but you run in there after him, still a ball of energy despite the orgasm.

Vash contemplates waiting until the two of you have finished to wash up, but his living room feels oddly lonely without the two of you in it. Plus, the drying, flaking cum in his own pants is starting to itch.

The door to the bathroom isn’t closed, but he enters meekly, head down, eyes averted, like a dog with a tail between his legs.

He takes his time undressing. Peeling his shirt off first followed by his jeans and ruined boxers. His back is to the mirror as he undresses. If he sees he’ll chicken out. If he sees he’ll just slink back to the quiet of his room, trying and failing to block out the soothing sounds of you and Nico.

There’s laughter from the shower. Yours and his. The curtains they have are thin, dainty things, and he can tell the two of you are wrestling over the shampoo bottle. If he doesn’t get in now, he’ll lose his nerve, so he rips the tattered curtain open and slides in wordlessly behind you.

The water is mercifully warm against his back. He stares at the way it swirls around your toes. Fizzy white suds circle the rusted drain, probably from the open shampoo bottle the two of you keep fighting for control of.

“Glad you joined us, pretty boy,” you say. When he manages to look at you, your eyes meet his. They aren’t prying or judgmental. They don’t roam along his patchy skin. “Nico’s hogging the shampoo, but he’s got a soft spot for ya. Bet I could convince him to let me wash your hair.”

“Tch, as if,” Nico tuts, shoving you aside. “You’re too small, squirt. I’ll help him with his hair.”

When the three of you are finished washing up, Vash is the first to leave the bathroom, towel wrapped tightly around his waist. The fabric doesn’t cover much since most of the damage is on his chest and back. He somehow feels less self-conscious now. Maybe because you’d pointed out he’d seen so far up your pussy he knows the color of your cervix.

Of all the girls Nico’s brought home, you’re his favorite. None of the others have ever bothered with him before.

He comes back to the room fully dressed with a pair of his boxers and an oversized t-shirt clutched to his chest. He holds them out for you, struggling to maintain eye contact.

“For me?” you ask, eyebrow quirked in genuine surprise.

He nods, “Yeah, for you. The clothes you came in didn’t look very comfortable. Figured these would work as pajamas.”

You exchange a look with Nico. It’s another look he can’t fucking comprehend. He doesn’t understand how the two of you managed to develop a language of your own so quickly. You’ve only known each other a few hours.

“Pajamas?” you ask, as if you’re unfamiliar with the concept.

“Yeah, it’s like 3am. You’re spending the night, right?”

You hesitate for a moment more before grabbing the clothes from him with a smile. “Not on that sofa I’m not. Which one of you boys wanna cuddle with me tonight. Or am I getting a room to myself while the two of you spoon?”

“You can sleep with me!” Vash offers immediately. “I’ve got the space.

“Tch, for the three of us I hope,” Nice says. “There’s no way I’m missing out on cuddles.”

[kimetsu-no-yaiba-writings]

hii! ( ˘ ³˘)

im not sure if this ask box is open atm, but i just came from the "random reader x douma" fanfic and it immediately gave me an idea (•ㅅ•)

s/o of muzan, akaza and douma (separately) randomly sneaking up to the demons and hitting/spanking their ass? LMAO

Hiya!~

Honestly I always keep my askbox open so any and everyone can slide anything my way so don't worry about it

Also I'm more than happy to write your request, it's definitely a fun one to write, so, thank you for requesting (^○^)

For those who haven't read the headcanons we're on about you can find it under my Doma section on my MasterList but I'm linking - HERE - for easy access

If you have anything to request - eg. headcanons, questions, thoughts etc. - then just slide 'em my way cause I'll answer them to the best of my abilities!

Muzan Kibutsuji, Douma/Doma + Akaza with an S/O that spanks their butt - Headcanons:

Muzan Kibutsuji:

This man, this gorgeous man...

Literally the definition of unbothered.....after the 100th smack attack to his arse

Sure to begin with he was confused - maybe even a little bit shocked and scandalized - whenever you'd randomly spank his butt but he kind of just anticipates it now?

Whenever you enter the room when he's doing something he kinda pauses cause he knows your randomly gonna slap his behind

It sets him on edge slightly when you don't

Muzan now waits for you to do it before continuing on with whatever he's doing

He's kinda grown used to it in a 'This happens and i can't really be bothered to stop it so i may as well let it happen' way

It's a very rare moment when he smacks your butt in return

Douma/Doma:

Oh boy you have a whole can of worms to open with Douma!

This man is so unbothered that you'd have thought you'd have kissed him or something with how he treats your smack to his butt

Genuinely, so unbothered

He takes it in his stride as if its another Monday - just tilts his head with a smile and a quirk of his lips

Barely questions it (seriously you could do anything to him and he wouldn't question it)

He will just smack your butt back when you least expect it

Douma anticipates your random smack and gets sad when you don't try and surprise him with it

It's gotten to the point where he kinda pouts if you don't smack his butt??

Akaza:

The first time it happens this man makes such an offended but questioning noise - think something along the lines of a cat that's been woken up cause you've touched them kind of noise

He also froze up slightly

And even after you've moved away and started talking to him about something akaza's still stood there in a state of confusion

You genuinely have to explain to him that it was a random urge that you had - "It's just something that wells up inside me, ya know? Except that my brain won't let me focus on anything else til I smack that butt of yours!"

Then he accepts it - kind of....

Takes it as a form of training! You use stealth to try and smack his butt and he tries to detect you before you reach him

Still kinda squeaks and jolts away when you give his butt a love tap

Won't do it as much but when Akaza's feeling cheeky, he WILL, give your arse a little tap which ends up a squeeze

[clonecaptains]

Hello! For the prompt ask with Jamie Tartt, maybe number 26. Jealous kiss? Thank you!

26. Jealous kiss

// rating: t; reader is gn //

masterlist is here

You’re meeting Jamie today for a meal at one of your favorite restaurants.

The owner knows you well. They were beside themselves when you brought in a famous footballer in as your boyfriend. Jamie was more than happy to sign a photo for them to hang on the wall.

He teases you about it, and every time you go there to eat he wants to sit near the photograph. If only just to tease you further. 

You get there before him, he’ll meet you after training. You sit at the booth near his photo, and you smile shaking your head.

The waiter brings you your drink. As you sip it, you see Jamie outside through the restaurant window. A couple fans are taking selfies and asking for signatures. You like seeing how much people love him. But sometimes you wish selfishly that you could go somewhere without him being noticed.

One woman lingers too long around him, and it fills you with a seed of jealousy. Which you know is silly. He’s going home with you tonight, he’s in love with you. But that little touch of insecurity worms its way into your brain and you scowl.

When Jamie walks into the place, he has a pleasant smile on his face. He’s looking for you, and his face lights up even more when he sees you. The insecurity fades, but you still have the urge to kiss him to prove it to yourself if anything else.

You were going to stand to greet him, but he’s quick and slides into the same side of the booth as you. He wraps his arm around you and says a cheery, “Hello love.”

Your response is a soft gasp before you lean in to kiss him deeply. You’re sure he can taste your drink on your tongue. He responds in turn by wrapping his arms around you and he smiles into your embrace.

You’re sure people are watching, but you don’t care.

When the kiss breaks, his grin is splitting his face.

“What was that for?” he smiles.

“I’m glad you’re mine,” you reply. It’s the honest answer. “I saw you with the fans outside, and-. It’s stupid.“

He takes your hand to kiss your knuckles. “They have nothing on you, love.” You know he means it. He kisses you again and picks up the menu. His arm still wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

He pauses for a moment, and then that little glimmer of mischief you love so much sparks in his eye. He lowers the menu, his pretty pink lips open slightly as he thinks.

“I wonder if it’s occupied.” He motions in the direction of the restroom. He leans in close to whisper, “fucking hot watching you get jealous babe.”

“Jamie!” you gasp shoving his chest playfully at his meaning. “This is a decent place!” you giggle.

“Look at him,” he points to his photo on the wall, “he’s ok with it!”

“Why don’t you take him with you?” you giggle leaning into him again. He smells good. You kiss his cheek and breathe deeply. “Sorry about earlier,” you bump your forehead against him.

“’s alright babe, I’m sorry it got to ya,” he kisses your forehead. “Offer’s open though, if you wanna get out of here,” he teases with a smile.

[bow-of-aros]

Well if I’m Dead, and You’re Dead, Then Who’s Driving the Bus?!

Edwin's been a little tense and Charles offers to help him relax. (No not like that you freaks)

-

Hey guys! School's started back up and it's kicking my ass a little, so I decided to write a soft moment to comfort myself. And to also ignore the cancellation because that's just upsetting. I hope that y'all enjoy <33

-

“I swear on my life, I will kill you.”

Edwin’s craning his neck to look up at Charles from where he’s trapped face down on the couch, threatening tone wobbling dangerously as a smile fought against the stern line of Edwin’s lips.

This had started innocuously enough, Edwin had mentioned that he was stressed and Charles offered a solution from when he’d been alive.

“My mum used to do it when I was little and couldn’t fall asleep,” Charles had explained, a bit of red creeping up into his cheeks, “It always helped calm me down when I had lots of energy, so I’m thinking it might do the same for you, yeah?”

It had been offered so earnestly, a fond memory and a chance at relief, all in one.

So, of course, Edwin had complied when Charles had told him to lie down on the couch. Of course he hadn’t asked questions after Charles insisted on it being a surprise. Of course he had allowed Charles to settle himself over Edwin, welcomed it, even, and had subsequently ignored the fluttering of a no longer beating heart at the warmth of his friend.

The featherlight touch on his back had been a surprise, although not an unwelcome one. It was only after a few seconds that Edwin found himself tensing up rather than relaxing. It was only after Charles strayed too close to his side and he flinched away did both of them realized what was happening.

Which leads them back to, “Well, you don’t have a life anymore. Because you’re dead. And you can’t kill me. Because I’m also dead.”

Edwin buries his head back into the sofa, but he can still hear the shit-eating grin that’s surely found its home on Charles’ face.

“So,” Charles continues, “Why don’t you just sit back, relax, and let me work my magic.”

“Charles, I really don’t think that is necessar—ah!”

The deft fingers return to his back, this time with a mission in mind. They swirl across Edwin’s shoulder blades, eliciting breathy titters before skittering down his spine, prompting clearer, more high-pitched giggles.

It was only when Charles reached his lower back that Edwin put more than a half-hearted effort into his struggles.

“Wahahait! Not there! Charles plehehease!”

“I dunno, mate,” Charles said, although he did move, choosing to instead crawl his fingers up the back of Edwin’s ribs, “Seems like it’s doing its job, yeah?”

The question gave Edwin pause, and after a quick catalogue of his physical and mental faculties, he found that he was feeling much more relaxed. The constant push to be doing something has quieted, replaced by a gentle buzz that’s settled itself under his skin.

He just doesn’t have the room in his brain to worry about anything other than the little zaps of electricity thrumming through his veins.

It’s quite nice, actually.

Then, Charles starts making his way back down and all kind thoughts fly out of his brain and are replaced by, “No! Charles! I’m relaxed I prohohomise!”

Charles, in his infinite generosity, releases Edwin from his clutches.

“See? I can already tell that you’re feeling bet—oof.”

Edwin flipped himself over, tugging Charles down on top of him, and settled his chin atop the mess of curls, letting out a bone-deep sigh. He ensures to wind his arms loosely around Charles, so that he may escape if he wishes to do so, but instead, Charles presses his nose into Edwin’s neck in the way he is so fond of, and worms his arms between Edwin and the sofa in order to hold them tight.

In response, Edwin allows his own arms to tighten as the rest of whatever tension he still held seeps into the sofa.

“See? Look at how relaxed you are! Works every time.”

Edwin feels the words more than he hears them and he scoffs lightly, swiping a thumb across the nape of Charles’ neck just to hear the sharp intake of breath that follows.

“Yes Charles, I’ll be sure to remember then when I decide that you need to wind down, shall I?”

Instead of pushing things any further, Edwin begins playing with the short hairs on the back of Charles’ head and smiles fondly as Charles manages to sag into him even more.

A small grumble sounds from Edwin’s chest and he can’t help but laugh.

“I didn’t quite catch that. Would you mind repeating yourself while you’re not practically eating my jacket?”

“Ugh,” Charles turns his head as though it carries the weight of a thousand Suns and says, “I said, I’m proper winded down right now, so we don’t need to worry about all that now do we?”

As Charles settles back into whatever configuration he swears is comfortable, Edwin says, “I suppose you’re correct. It’s best we get some rest, we have a long eternity of solving cases ahead of us.”

“Yeah. Resting was my idea.”

“That makes sense, it is rather brills, as you would say.”

Edwin can feel Charles’ smile, and spares a moment to mourn the fact that he cannot see it before appreciating the fact that he had the privilege to draw it out at all.

“Yeah yeah. G’night Eds. Love you.”

“Yes Charles, I love you too.”

It’s alright, Edwin had the rest of forever to see that smile anyway.

[fragilecapric0rnn]

WIP Week: we are SO BACK edition

have y'all been seeing this??? WE ARE SO BACK!!!! if anything could get the brain worms acting up, its all this behind the scenes stuff!!! shout out to @thefreakandthehair and @fastcardotmp3 for your impeccable timing <3<3<3

haven't done one of these in a while but there are several things cooking which is very fun and exciting!!!

The Rules:

In a reblog (or a new post w/ rules attached) post up to five (5) file names of your wips. Not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

tagging (with no pressure of course): @kkpwnall @judasofsuburbia @cheatghost @figthefruitfaeth @gideoncharov

@snowangeldotmp3 @seths-rogens @cuoredimuschio @roguenancy

The WIPS: (too many wips tbh)

criminal [steddie jailbird eddie fic]

steve&jj 2

modern au 3 (eddie pov)

6: the second half of 1999 [aiaof]

The Lumax

let me cook [buddie meet pre s2 longfic]

shameless alt 7x5 [buddie smut whoops]

Snippet [from Criminal]:

“Didn’t expect you to be one for a reality check, seeing as the Golden Retriever amounts of optimism you’ve had up until this moment.” 

“Guess I ran out of my supply.” 

Eddie takes a long drag from their shared joint, Steve doesn’t try hiding the way he’s watching his mouth. 

“Here’s to dying a virgin.” He pretends to toast the roach, before passing it to Steve. Steve, who feels his stomach bottom out. 

“Oh shit, man.” Steve’s tongue feels heavy, as he manages to get out his lame response. 

“Oh shit, indeed.” Eddie says, playing with one of his rings. 

“Like nothing? Not even a handy in the movie theater?” 

“Nope, not one handy besides my lefty.”

“Jesus,” Steve let his head fall heavy on the back of the trailer. “I kinda thought chicks would be into your vibe.” 

“I’m sure some of them are,” Now he sounds nervous, peaking Steve’s interest even more. 

“Okay, so what stopped you?” 

“I guess I don’t like many chick’s vibes,” he pauses, taking a long pull from the flask. “Or any of them at all.” 

“Oh,” Steve understands now. Something about this grass feels a lot like dirty bathroom linoleum. But this understanding also feels like something else. Something opposite. 

It might not work out for us this time. 

He thinks Eddie is saying something else, too distracted by the suddenly loud ringing in his ear, making him feel like he’s in a fishbowl.

[justallihere]

Thoughts post my rereads:

She was not a thing—not something to be acquired and used. When had she stopped fighting Xaden on that?

She wasn’t sure she did. All the quiet, intimate moments between them—she had to wonder now if they had been authentic; had to wonder if he’d done it just so she would trust him.

I love our look into Violets thoughts and feelings surrounding Xaden’s betrayal. She put herself out there for him, intentionally or not, and all that trust and vulnerability wasn’t returned and manipulated.

She didn’t want to. She didn’t want this to be real. She was tired of facing things—tired of having to be what others expected of her, tired of always doing the right thing. She was just tired.

You characterize Violet’s exhaustion and anguish so perfectly. I also broke down crying reading this, it’s such a relatable feeling. The way Violet feels so violently (hehe) yet her brain keeps spinning to problem solve is so well done. Bravo!

“I need to talk to Xaden.”

“Fuck Xaden,” Rhiannon said harshly. “He married you just to sacrifice you. You don’t owe him anything.”

“I want to hear what he has to say.”

“Lies, probably.”

Your honour, I love the Rhiannon defence squad.

“I just need to talk to him,” she said.

She needed—she didn’t know what. To see Xaden’s face, to hear his voice. She needed the confirmation from him that this was truly what he’d always intended for her.

I love that we see Violet’s need for information here but we also see that she’s starting to need Xaden as well. That she has started to rely on him for comfort, even if it’s just subconsciously. I truly, truly love how you’re depicting them falling for each other. Especially as later we see:

She hated him more than she ever had, and still not enough.

She knows that Xaden has wormed his way in no matter how mad she is.

Liam’s face crumpled before he caught himself and smoothed out his expression. “No. Of course not.”

Liam—Liam she still didn’t let herself look at.

Liam paused, looking at her imploringly over his shoulder, but she didn’t acknowledge him

Sometimes I feel like the Liam/Violet falling out and reconciliation is going to hurt me more than the Xaden/Violet one.

“You can elaborate on that,” she said, “or we can find out if killing you really will destroy us all or just inconvenience Sgaeyl for a day or two.”

“This my power, my signet, my body—my fucking choice. You tried to make it for me, and I should kill you for it.”

Violet drew back her fist and punched him in the face.

THAT’S MY GIRL ❤️‍🔥🗡️

“Because you did this. You married me, you brought me here, you handed me a crown, and you planned to use me as a weapon this whole fucking time. So now you’re going to deal with the consequences of your actions and look me in the face and explain to me exactly what all you’ve lied to me about.”

“Fuck, do you really think I’m such an awful, heartless person that I could take care of you and hold you the way that I have and it means nothing to me? Do you think you mean nothing to me?”

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t believe you.”

“Yes,” she said. “Alone.”

Welcome to your bed Xaden, you can now lie in it (or maybe not) 😅

“Every time you’ve held me, have you—“

This line really hit me because we know Violet is drawing parallels to Dain here. 😩

He pinned her leg down hard with his own when she tried to wiggle it free. “Don’t do that,” he said, strained.

“What am I thinking right now?” Violet asked tauntingly.

His gaze dipped from her eyes to her mouth, and then lower. “You really want me to guess?”

“Yes.”

“Liar,” he murmured,

They’re so horny for each other I love it.

I know I said in my A03 review that I want Xaden on his hands and knees (and I do) but I truly do love that you depicted him NOT apologizing for his actions. What I really want to see is Xaden recognizing that Violet doesn’t trust him and working to fix that, which I think we saw a peak of in this chapter. Looking forward to his POV to delve more into his thoughts and feelings around the whole situation!

Once again your chapters always outdo themselves. You’re a brilliant writer Alli, I truly appreciate your dedication to delivering us amazing content every week. Thanks for keeping me fed! 💞

Thank you so much!!!

I feel like Violet straight up just isn’t over shit enough in canon. I want her to just throw the biggest fit in the world, she’s tired, she’s been tortured, her boyfriend lied to her, her brother lied to her, everyone wants something from her, and she’s never as mad as I think I would be in her case. I just needed her to scream and cry and be TIRED. And in this chapter she definitely is

Violet trusts Xaden far more than she wants to, but she does need him in a lot of ways. He grounds her because he’s never coddled her

Violent Violet is the best Violet!!!

I think you’re the first person to point out how horny they are for each other in this one 😭 I mean they always are but to be horny in the middle of a fight?? Married idiot behavior

We will definitely see intentional Xaden and Violet working their shit out moving forward. She asked for honesty so she’ll get it

🩷🩷🩷🩷

[floreatetona]

Have a Pirate Fairy fanfic bc I can't be fucked to clean my room. James x Zarina, suggestive.

James had always been a little too good at pretending he was happy. Par for the course, considering his history. Even now, as he ran a brush through his captain's hair, he was surely faking that same, happy grin on his face. The smile curled up so naturally, his big eyes gazed so softly, and his brow knitted, tenderly, just enough to show his... care... for his dear captain, Zarina. And it was care, technically. Although, perhaps, it is a word to be used delicately. The word felt dangerous, like a silk ribbon uncomfortably tight around his throat. No, while he admitted she was at least enchanting and beautiful, in truth, James found that he nearly hated her. This care was less a care of love and friendship, but more akin to the care of a hunter. The cautious tracing of fingers over the dirt tracks of prey, as his own fingers traced her freckles. The precise timing of breathing as to listen for movement, as he himself tried to still his own fluttering heart. The hungry, unblinking watching and waiting to strike, as he himself pondered his options. And, of course, that final pounce, that fatal sinking of teeth, the care of one eating and spilling as little as possible, as James himself finally hinted at his own hungry, deadly devotion.

"Captain? May I say... if it's not too bold..." he paused as he set down his brush, carefully forming his thoughts as he began braiding her almond hair. Zarina, frankly lost in the relaxing grooming, finally opened her eyes with a hum.

"What is it?" She yawned. Her hazel eyes fluttered as her brain shifted its focus. It proved difficult: this body ached, and his touch felt so safe and soothing and easy. As easy as drawing a blanket up to your chin in the cold. As easy as being at home. But when it did refocus, she noticed his face, his smile, had finally come back. That same sweet smile he always wore, but it carried something different lately. No doubt that was her fault; the past few days had been a lot to take in. Her discovery of the wishing dust, her sudden growth and humanity, the setbacks in the search for blue dust; this was the first real moment alone they'd had in almost a week. Only days ago, everything had been normal. She was still tiny, and they still talked every night... and she was still confused as to why he wouldn't just sleep here in the cabin as he always had before. He looked so shocked, almost angry that day. He hadn't acted sad or disappointed, but everything had been so tense. Perhaps tonight was a good time to ask... Him first, for now.

"James?" She cooed, catching herself fearing his unusual silence.

How just like her, how haughty a yawn, with that honey drowned voice she put on whenever she spoke to him in private. She treated him with such matter of fact tenderness, such infuriating distance most of the time. How he hated that. But he swallowed that hate, chasing it with a little of his pride and an actual nervous gulp, because he needed tonight to go smoothly. His plan had been the same from the beginning, ever since this prissy little pixie demanded that she be the captain of these hopeless sods. Gain her trust, let her do all the work and magic and research while he acted as the real voice of command, plant the seeds of mutiny, wait, tear her down the moment the blue dust works, and plunder the world below in an uncatchable ship. But after this week? No, after this long, long year? ....how dare she be anything but an obstacle in his way. How dare this little cunt worm her way into his head. ...Into is chest...

His brown eyes faked shyness and flicked away from hers. Only his fingers, hurrying to clasp off the braid, gave away a clue of his real agitation. Tonight, he needed to know how exactly he could alter his plans. Was all still as it was, or was it now smarter to remain at the right hand? Would the mutiny still hold water, and if not, how then would he get rid of her? He looked up again to speak, but Zarina, infuriatingly, cut him off.

"Really quick though, you're sleeping in here again tonight, right?"

"I-.... pardon?"

"You've been sleeping in a broom closet for like three days. That can't be comfortable! You always sleep in here."

No... no fucking way that she was actually asking such a thing. And so casually!

"W-well this new... body is ...much to adjust to. I'd imagine. I ... took the initiative and assessed that perhaps you needed to um..." The unseen silk ribbon tightened. "Take some time to get in touch with this... new you!" His smile grew crooked and embarrassed as his eyes lowered in secondhand shame. She always made him feel like a fool, but THIS was a new emotion altogether. Not knowing what to do with his hands, or any of himself, he clasped the back of her chair to lean slightly. A poor attempt at seeming nonchalant while panic bit him every time his knuckles brushed her speckled skin.

"You dont know the half of it. I was prepared for the crazy scale change but the dizziness? I don't think it's even really gone, haha." Zarina let herself relax again, not at all aware of the tension in the room. She picked up her cigar from the vanity and took a long drag, but her eyes caught him in the mirror. He allowed his face to rest into a more honest expression. Drops of fear, anguish, uncertainty, and irritated confusion bled from his thinned lips like an overfull bowl. What's his deal, she thought, her own fear rearing its head, does he ...does he not like that I'm human now? But Zarina was too comfortable to spiral in negative thoughts. And she trusted that, as always, hed be honest with her.

"But I can't help but notice that you act... different now. No sugar coating it, you hate this new size, dont you?" With a smile, she lifted the cigar as an offering. James blinked at it, nearly caught off guard before quietly taking the roll in his fingers. He could only stare at the lipstick stain rung around it for a moment, trying his best to ignore his tumultuous brain growling like a mad, starving stomach. Then, a sharp breath, like a tiger hearing a snap of twigs and hooves; a gnawing growing violent in his chest, an idea that had electrocuted his mind the moment he caught his fingers tracing the freckles of her shoulders. Tonight, perchance, he very well could taste the meal for which he starved. He finally let his smile fall.

"That couldn't be farther from the truth, captain." He took a drag of the Jamaican roll, lips pressed exactly along where shed left her lipstick like a first drink of precious water. Then he sighed, presenting it back to her with the respect of a waiter bringing out the wine. She took it back and gaffawed.

"Yeah? You're all depressed because you just adore the new look? Right. That makes sense." She took another drag through mocking teeth and turned around in her chair, watching him walk over to the window side of the bed. She had no idea that he'd mentally called her a bitch at the comment. She probably had no idea that his hands had started shaking.

"No it is the truth, captain." He sat down and shifted as to rest an elbow on a propped up knee. At once he played up his saccharine meekness, that gentlemanly bashfulness that would surely draw his hunt closer.

"I want things to be as they were... and I adore our friendship. But...." a nervous glance, a deep breath. "But it was easy to merely play my part when you were a fairy. I never had a chance to be yours, merely your lowly cabin boy. Even if I had a chance to be... to call you mine... our sheer difference would never had let things work." A heavy silence fell over the cabin, and he locked eyes with his now startled captain.

" But now... now there is no such difference. And what's worse, you... " he couldn't bear to look at her for such an embarrassing confession. James turned almost his whole body to the windows. "I'm only a man." He pleaded. "And you are more beautiful to me now than you ever were." He'd been taught by the best; a woman can be tricked into anything, with the trap of one's own vulnerability. But all the same, a terror gripped him. Bastard opportunist though he was, deep down, he really was quite shy. That's why he nearly jumped when he felt the mattress shift.

"Mine? Your- hum. So that's what this is all about." She'd put out the cigar and slid from the chair to the edge of the four posted queen. She nervously fiddled with the new braid in her hair and crossed her legs under her cotton shift. For a moment, the tension returned in full force before finally, the spell was broken.

"James-"

"I know, I know. I forget myself." He stood from the bed and began his duty straightening up the room. "But I can keep no secrets from my captain now, can I?" Whether this was part of his game or whether he had talked himself out of the idea was totally unclear even to him. Hungry as he was, he couldn't afford to drop his act, and he only now considered the possibility of rejection, a possibility that repulsed him.

"James -"

"As for um.. well if you want me to sleep in here I can, perhaps if I may have a pillow-"

"JAMES." A firm hand pounced and locked onto his arm, startling him more than her sudden bark. The pair locked eyes, hers fierce, his scared and hungry, and she forcefully pulled him closer. She was only as tall as his chest, and as she sat on the bed she was even shorter to him still. But in spirit, in authority, she towered over him. His anger flared again, but not as boldly or as bright as his anxiety...or his excitement. Her hand released his arm, only to slowly draw down and clasp his strong, trembling hand. No act could hide his hitching breath.

"James?"

"...y-Yes? ..Captain?"

"Why do you think of all the things I could have wished for..." her face shifted from sternness to a smug, sly smile. "I choose to wish for this?"

"...............................ah"

The statement peirced his brain like an arrow of lightning, or like a dinner bell. For a moment, he was too shocked to even act, but then, oh then, he was almost too ravenous to think. Almost. James closed his eyes and let out a deep and shaky sigh before falling gracefully to a kneel, so dizzy from her revaluation that he dared to rest his forehead on her knees. He couldn't stop the chuckles that bubbed up from within him. She wanted this (wanted HIM!!!) and he had her right where he fucking wanted her; the table was set for a feast. He hadn't let go of her hand, clasping it with both of his as to uphold what little of his coy act that he could in this state. And after he'd wrestled back control of himself, he finally looked up and swallowed, smiling ear to ear.

"Well, well..." his breath fell heavily like a lion dragging off its kill. "I suppose you don't have any... new orders for me?"

"Orders? No." Zarina smugly leaned back, a king on a throne, amused at the dinner layed before her, and those big brown eyes just begging for a taste. She giggled wryly and spread her legs apart. "But I do have a few ideas..."

And then they fuck. The end. Goodnight.

[cadrenebula]

Prompt #22: Extra Credit

(Part 3 of the Modern Magic Fantasy AU with Cedrik and Aryn! XD My enabler friend does not regret the brain worms she has created. Part 1 & Part 2 found in earlier extra credit entries.)

Aryn wasn't sure when he'd gotten taken to a bed. He sure didn't remember getting there. Definitely wasn't for anything fun since he was still clothed. Well... Someone had clearly changed his clothes as he checked over himself. He barely remembered anything after they had arrived at wherever this was. Also his eyes felt crusty and his mouth dry.

Right... He'd been crying while the person who rescued him had held him. He couldn't even remember if he caught the man's name. Was that who had changed his clothes? Or was it the person who owned this place? He vaguely remembered meeting the viera and their elezen partner.

Aryn blinked and looked at the sound of light footsteps approaching. Nebula walked in with a tray and placed it on the nightstand beside the bed. They waited till Aryn slowly shifted to sit up in the bed before handing over a glass of water.

"You didn't seem to have suffered any wounds that I could find. I did however change you out of the bloodied clothes and have them cleaned. I will bring them up in a bit if you want to change back into them. You are not required to leave before you're ready. Gwyn is making breakfast at the moment." Nebula explained as Aryn took the chance to drink the offered water. "I know you were in a bit of shock last night. My name is Nebula, I own this building that Cedrik brought you to. It's a safe haven for those of Clan Carina but you are welcome to remain as long as you need as a guest of Cedrik's."

"Thank you..." Aryn handed the empty glass back to Nebula with a forlorn look. Remembering how he'd gotten to this part. They'd been attacked after the concert. Jesse was gone. Cedrik? That was his name from the way Nebula spoke. Cedrik had rescued him from the same fate as Jesse. The thoughts made him want to cry again. Instead he took a deep breath and counted. Trying to steady himself for now. It wouldn't do for him to sit here and cry when no one knew where he was. His family and friends would be worried. Hells... Elijah was probably worried about Jesse. He still had to break that news to him of all people. He hadn't even noticed Nebula leave him alone with his thoughts.

His nose twitched at the scent of food though which made his stomach rumble noisily. He'd not had anything to eat since midday yesterday. Should have gotten dinner after the concert but the attack had canceled that. Slowly Aryn moved from the bed, doing a check of himself. Nebula insisted he was physically fine but he wasn't sure if the other was a healer. Aryn had studied as a healer growing up before taking up dancing instead. Nothing seemed damaged though thankfully. Not that he remembered getting hurt but in the moment would have been hard to tell with the adrenaline pumping.

Aryn followed his nose towards the smell to find the kitchen. He found Gwyn finishing up making breakfast for four with Cedrik's help. Cedrik paused in his setting stuff on the table as he caught sight of Aryn in the doorway.

Quickly Cedrik finished placing things down before walking over to Aryn. His face looked conflicted as he looked Aryn over. It took effort to keep his hand down at his side rather than touch the dancer. He had to bite his tongue from asking the dumb question of how was the man feeling. Probably like shit since he'd watched his friend get attacked. He also didn't want to tell Aryn that he'd gone back after Aryn had fallen asleep to find the body gone... How did one tell a person that the one they thought was dead might now be a vampire? He wasn't even sure how much Aryn knew about these creatures.

"You need to eat something." Cedrik finally spoke as he gently took Aryn's hand and led him over to the table. He pulled out a chair for Aryn after letting go of the hand he'd held momentarily.

"Thank you. I really need to contact my family." Aryn spoke softly as he took a seat.

"Food first. If you let this get cold to deal with that mess, I'll be cross." Gwyn huffed as she put the last couple items on the table. "A short bit longer won't change things any. Besides, you're an adult. Unless you have a partner or kids, you have time for breakfast before worrying people."

"No. No kids. No partner." Aryn answers as his stomach rumbles again. Caving in, he started helping himself to the offering to load his plate. "But if word of the attack has reached my family, they'll be worried."

"There is nothing in the news sadly." Nebula answered as they finally walked into the kitchen and joining the trio already at the table. "As I suspected, the usual sources want to keep this quiet. They don't want a panic over an attack in the city itself."

"What?! But people should know!" Aryn looked at the mage with a look of bewilderment. "More people could avoid my friend's fate!"

Cedrik put a hand on Aryn's arm to try and comfort and calm the dancer. "We know. I'm sorry about your friend. Marcy and I hunt these things to try to avoid this from happening. Nebula and Gwyn sometimes aid us. There are other hunters out there besides us but this is our team anyways. Unfortunately this has been going on for a very long time. The people in power are afraid of a panic so they cover it up and hire hunters to try and solve the problem. Sadly these demons are crafty. It takes us time to root out a whole nest of them."

"We'll have plenty of time to talk about it. After we eat." Gwyn put in firmly. "If you let my cooking go to waste, I'm be annoyed."

"Sorry..." Aryn grimaced at the gruff woman's tone as he set about eating the food he'd picked for himself.

Cedrik kept finding himself looking towards Aryn as the group ate in silence. How he just wanted to reach up an touch Aryn. Lay a hand against the dancer's cheek. Comfort the other man. Last night... Just holding him made him want more. Aryn was a flame he found he had trouble resisting. He wanted to know the man more and it was just not the time. After last night... He needed to give Aryn a chance to process things.

[11queensupreme11]

Lol that wasn't me but I will let you know when I post on AO3 and credit you. I have a bad habit of jumping around a lot in my writing so it might be a while. Here is a bit from much later that might have to be cut. It features 8 year old Percy and children's fantastic ability to remember complex terms and apply them in the funniest ways possible:

"Percy stared at the man before her. He looked young, with a face she believed would make any of the old ladies from the apartments coo if they saw him. However, pinchable cheeks were probably not a judged criteria when taking the exams to become a doctor. The lady at the department of health office had said that "Medicaid does not cover elective work" and Percy was not even sure they had insurance now that they lived outside the US. Medical debt was a serious issue and would probably spawn paperwork more difficult for Mom to handle than any monster or weird relative. Smiling politely, she said “So are you a pediatrician? What program did you graduate from? Where was your residency and how many years have you been practicing for?”

The man's face was now frozen and Percy decided to press onward continuing “What insurance providers do you accept? I was on Medicaid previously but that won’t apply anymore with the move so you will have to get the new information from my mother. Along with my medical history which would be needed to provide appropriate care.” Pausing and tilting her head racking her brain for more terms she had heard at the real pediatrician’s office, she continued “You did talk to him right? 'Any medical care that is not immediately lifesaving given to minors requires consent from a parent or guardian recognized by the state.' Given my father is not on my birth certificate and has not signed and acknowledgment of paternity his word will not count. If you treat me without mother’s permission billing will be the least of your worries, the medical boards and courts don’t mess around when it comes to unnecessary medical work done on children without parental consent” she finished watching the man’s eyes widen a little more in shock.

However instead of the stuttered backtrack she was expecting, instead Mr. Beelzebub burst into a low and somewhat menacing laugh. With a smile, he said, “To answer your questions, I am not a pediatrician of any kind, I am a researcher specializing in the… hm… how to put it, most unusual of cases, and probably the only god in the three realms capable of treating someone like you.”

“So, you don’t actually know anything,” Percy said folding her arms and feeling rather put out. “And you have no previous experience working with children.” Honestly, she was really starting to wonder what went on in the heads of her father’s family. With a sigh she continued “Uncle Hades, this man is not a real doctor, he sounds like a scammer.”

Normally she tried not to be that blunt (after all mom always said stuff like “discretion was the better part of valor” and all the like) but this was really starting to test her patience. “It is common sense that any strange man offering you free medical treatment in his basement is definitely up to no go. Haven’t you heard of stranger danger? ‘Only trust adults whose credibility can be verified by another safe and trusted adult like your parents’.” She recited while turning to her uncle hoping to see a light of understanding appear in the man’s eyes. Honestly, why did she have to be the adult in this situation? Had these people never seen public television?

Instead, both men broke out into uproarious laughter and Percy considered what the consequences of pelting them both with ice would be. Perhaps if she froze their brains, it would fix whatever mental deficiency they were currently experiencing. Maybe some kind of brain worm?"

OH IT WASNT YOU???? oops 😭😭😭 ok thank you for clarifying then!

ALSO EIGHT YEAR OLD PERCY IS SO PRECIOUS???? and is loki a better mom than og!sally or did he just send percy to a good school cuz she sounds a lot smarter than her 12-16 year old canon self 😭😭😭😭

BUT BEEEEEEELLLLL IS HERE 😍😍😍

im ngl, after i realized beel was in the scenario, i blanked out and just focused on him LMAO. i'm sorry i just love him so much 😭😭😭

i can't wait till you post, ur writing is sooooo 😩👍