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ct7567scyarika · 5 months ago

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Dreams

Summary: In a rare moment, Captain Rex gets to enjoy some peace during the chaos of the war after a mission. Brief Rest, Relaxation, and Reflection with the woman he loves.

Pairing: Captain Rex x Mando OC, Pyrrha Eskel (established relationship)

Warnings: None

Ao3 link

Also not me copying @agirlunderarock format of posting stories on here. Anyway, this story was based on my commission from @agingerpanda! I still cannot get over how beautiful they look, and the background??? SO PRETTY?

Strokes of gentle maya and aureolin painted the partially clouded sky, silhouetting the distant mountaintop’s arching curve. A light fog blanketed the floor but could not shield the low gusts of wind that rippled through the tall grass like inbound waves. The ends of the dark green blades crashed against legs clad in dirty white armor. As Rex stood in the open field he closed his eyes and took a slow, deep inhale as the breeze blew on his face. The clean air was refreshing albeit a little chilling due to the morning mist.

A light clink sounded as something brushed his left arm. He partially opened an eye, his brown hue meeting the welcoming warmth of her bright blue gaze. His body relaxed and gravitated in her direction. The golden beskar that Pyrrha wore could not even compete with the gleaming smile she mirrored from him.

Stars, she was as beautiful as the early sunrise before them.

Rex lifted his hand from his hip to rest around the devoted bounty hunter’s waist, drawing her close to him, their armor clattered on impact. Her arms wrapped around his side with a squeeze then transitioned into a relaxed hold. He nuzzled against her temple before pressing a kiss there, his smile growing at her short hum. He felt her lean even closer to him. He missed being able to hold her without their armor getup on as they had done only half an hour ago. However, he was comfortable. His eyes slid shut.

“So ner golden alor’ad ,” she addressed in gentle Mando’a “can we just go back to sleep?”

“Mm, we’re already up and also stayed a night longer than we should have, ner cyar’ika ..” he spoke quietly against her temple, beginning to slowly sway with her.

“An action I advised as someone experienced in this type of mission; or, that’s what I wrote for the report.”

“Oh? How will you justify that?”

“Easy. We needed to lay low for at least the night so it would be less suspicious,” she turned her head to place the side of her face on his shoulder. “All while not wasting too much time.”

“Wouldn’t going back to bed be, as you will debrief, wasting more time?” he raised a brow in amusement.

“Well, I wasn’t going to clock the exact time we headed out. If push comes to shove, I could always say my ship ran into troubles on the way back.”

He stopped their swaying opened his eyes. “Lie on a report?”

“Wouldn’t be a lie if I said we ran into Hondo and I had him meet us on the way back.”

“You think that pirate would cover for you?”

“Hey, he knows I have the credits to bribe him… and the means to hurt him if I threaten him.”

Rex smirked and shook his head while she giggled. “Pyres,” he exhaled, “getting that pirate involved seems to be a lot of effort just to get a few more minutes more sleep.”

“See, I was aiming for a couple more hours. This mission was exhausting.”

“Yeah, it was, but I don’t think it will compare to the burnout that surely will follow from stringing Ohnaka along.”

Pyrrha laughed, a delightful sound he would always cherish during these dark days. “You’re not wrong, love. Although, I don’t believe it would be nearly as tiring as our last undercover mission with just the two of us.”

“Mm, the mission where you mostly had fun throwing me under the transport.”

“Well, that had been our first time working together alone, and you betrayed me, remember?” She released one arm from his side to place the back of her hand against her forehead, her body slouched against him. “My fiance hiding the truth that he was one of the Republic soldiers that had occupied my totally-not-made-up home planet!”

He shifted his other arm to catch her from falling to the floor. “And you let that Seppie with his clankers take me!” Was his obviously feigned complaint. His heart nearly melted from the way she looked up at him, a goofy grin on her face.

“It was only, like,” her fingers wiggled before showcasing the proper number “four of them and I got you back once I was given the information we were looking for.” Rex sighed and chuckled, though hindsight made it easier to laugh about that case now.

Pyrrha set her foot on the floor and Rex aided in easing her back onto her feet, his hands resting on her sides again. She turned her body to face him, hands laid on his armored chest. He reached and brushed the dark brown wavy locks from her face, her very fair complexion dusted a soft red. He kept his hand on her cheek, a little irked at how his glove hindered him from being able to feel her skin. She leaned forward and he copied, their foreheads pressing against each other. She gave an extra little push, a small declaration of her love. What began as a keldabe kiss during missions at the start of their relationship expanded into happening without their helmets. He pushed back in response with a short hum. With his body so comfortable against Pyrrha, the idea of returning to sleep with her in his arms grew more and more tempting.

He opened his eyes partially, seeing she was doing the same. A quiet, short inhale through his nose as her smile softened and she had that starry-eyes look. He knew what she was thinking, what she wanted.

He wanted it too.

He leaned forward, his heart raced and he felt rapid fluttering in his stomach. This wasn’t the first time they were doing this, yet he still felt just as giddy as he did then. The breeze that could reach him attempted to cool his heated cheeks. She followed his lead and closed the gap between them.

His eyes were closed as his mind was fixated on how softly this Mandalorian’s lips pressed against his, yet she was firm enough to assure him that she wasn’t parting any time soon. Her hands on his chest shifted slowly, one to wrap around his waist while the other slid up to cradle the back of his neck. The warmth in his chest spread while his hand on her cheek pulled her closer. In his life, he had been grateful to survive each battle, but he had never felt so alive as he did when he was with her. Alive and incredibly loved, the galaxy stood still for just the two of them. He wanted to share such feelings with Pyrrha and wanted her to feel just as loved. He wanted to convey all the feelings that he couldn’t quite put into words through the kisses they shared. Time didn’t exist in these moments, he had no idea how long this tender kiss lasted. Not long enough. He stole a quick kiss after they had begun to depart and he smiled widely when she giggled in response. They both glanced down bashfully.

Stars above, he wanted to hold her even closer but the armor was in the way. He looked back at her while her head was still turned shily away, so he leaned to nuzzle her temple, then lowered to rest his head where her neck and shoulder met, nestling into her scarlet scarf. He could feel the tips of her fingers combing through the ends of his blond hair, the small ringlets were growing back in. He didn’t keep his hair as closely shaven as he used to because of this exact reason.

His eyelids felt heavier as he opened them a little, an attempt to remain awake while not moving from the embrace. He looked at the scenery before him that was now basked in the morning’s glow. It wasn’t very often he got to come to a planet without it having some mark from the war on it. Right now, the only footprints of the war had been discreetly left by himself and Pyrrha, although his print had a stronger impression of the ongoing conflict due to his direct link to it. He and his brothers trailed a path of destruction. They were made to be weapons for this exact purpose. The natural beauty of a planet was often lost in the smoke and debris. Swift attacks that would take generations to heal… if ever.

He frowned and eyes shut once more, concentrating on her silent breaths. Every one she gave was a gift that he never wanted to take for granted.

Which was why he was also back to focusing on his surroundings. One could never know when an enemy would attempt to ambush you in such a vulnerable position. He tightened his hold on her a bit.

Outside of their synchronized breathing, it was silent. Rex wasn’t used to the quiet after a mission, at least like this. Usually what followed were the sounds of troops moving and thunderous rumbles of heavy combat vehicles rolling through the remains, which then led to the hum of being on a Jedi cruiser and all the background noises that came with that environment. And still, after all that, they would return to the busy city of Coruscant. It was never serene. Eerie silence he was very familiar with, but… relaxed?

Well, there was only one place he ever felt that, and, as much as he loved his brothers, it wasn’t the barracks. It was down, down in the dirty lower levels of the city in a small apartment. Pyres’ apartment; no.

“Our home ,” she had said many months ago with a smile. “You live here too. It’s your home as much as it is mine. You’re my husband, we’re a family. ”

A family.

He exhaled. For most of his life, he had never imagined having a family outside of the one with his brothers. He didn’t think he’d get this far, one could never be sure. There was also how Kaminoans made sure to sell him and his brothers more as property than people. Finding love and someone wanting to spend their life with you was not something he believed had been in the cards for him. He was going to be outlived either by the war or his age acceleration, so being romantically involved seemed to do more harm. But yet here was Pyres.

He froze for a moment as the silence was broken by the sweetest sounds he knew. Pyrrha sang in a hushed but clear tone, a song that was familiar to him. A tune she created and sang whenever she was stupendously happy. A song she wrote about him that she shared with him the night of their wedding, one that only they shared with each other. Their secret song.

He smiled. Yes, here was Pyres. His mesh’la, kotyc, nuh’la riduur . Beautiful, strong, funny wife. Here she was as always, dedicated and never hesitated to aid him when he needed her the most; nor was she hesitant to shower him with affection. If he called, she always dropped everything to get to him as quickly as possible. She always called him her brightest star in space’s endless dark, empty voids. Her lifesaver. Yet she gave him a future to look forward to, a new meaning to his life that was beyond fighting. They gave each other hope, to become more than what they had been shaped to be now. They had plans for after the war. A home on Alderaan where they could be far away from painful memories. To lay down their weapons, live in peace, and hopefully grow their little family. His heart raced again at the idea, a future he held tightly to. He knew following this war when they won would be a matter of clones finding a place in the galaxy. He knew his place and would fight for it.

As for now, he could wait. There was plenty of time they’d spend in battle. For now, he wanted to enjoy the minutes they had left alone. He lifted his head, their gaze reuniting as she continued into the end of their song. Although he wanted to hum with her, he did not want to interrupt. Her voice was soft and soothing, lulling him to quietly rest with her. He watched her with a smile and she tilted her head. Her hand moved from the back of his neck and skin brushed over the side of his face, his body reacting with a shiver. His blinks slowed as he nuzzled her hand and cradled her wrist. He planted a soft kiss in her palm, then to the inside of her wrist, smiling as she giggled. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, his hold tightened slightly when she whispered:

“Sing with me, please?” Had those Force meditation sessions with Kenobi made her able to sense his hesitation? Well, persuasion was not a Force skill she needed to learn, for as soon as she asked, he nodded and joined her in the song. He shifted his hand from her wrist to hold her hand, brought her closer to him, and began to sway with her in a slow dance. The wet blades of grass rustled against their movements, the light of the sun highlighted their figures and gave their armor an extra gleam. Although the light fog had lifted, the wind continued and strands of Pyres’ hair blew against her face, laughter occasionally breaking her part of the duet.

Rex sank in every moment, noticing every detail so he could revisit this memory in the days to come. He knew Pyres would take a holoimage of them shortly, however, he wanted more than visuals. He wanted to easily recall all the sensations he felt, such as how the weather was a perfect blend of cool and warm, the smell of the wildflowers, the sounds of the duo’s voices softly fading to an end. What he wanted to remember the most was how he felt when he ran his fingers through her hair to cup her face and they leaned in for another kiss, giving into the hunger for more. His eyes opened for a moment as he moved away for a split second, allowing just enough time to partially open his mouth before diving back in for another, deeper kiss. Her lips moved against his as both inhaled through their noses in an attempt to prolong the intoxicating exchange.

If there was anything certain in this galaxy, it was that Rex loved her. He loved her so, so much and he knew she returned the feelings. Each and every single rotation in all the galaxies she would choose him, and he would always choose her. She gave him her love, she gave him the galaxy, and all he could offer was his heart.

“ It’s enough ,” she had replied when he told her this months ago. With dreamy, glazed eyes and a warm smile, she had continued. “ More than that, more than any treasure in existence. I am lucky to have you; you are more than enough. ”

“ You are as well ,” he had answered and noticed how her hold on him tightened. “ You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. ”

“ The best for each other? ” “ Forever. In the best of ways. ”

#captain rex #captain rex x oc #star wars oc #star wars oc story #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #Pyrrha Eskel #mandalorian oc

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iamvegorott · 1 year ago

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Meeting A Magical Man Pt. 1

This is a little thing inspired by @d-structive's drawing of Marvin; Link

Next Part: Link ----------

Chase stood in front of the door. A soft brown door with painted vines and lavender plants. He could see the individual brushstrokes…which meant he had been staring at this door long enough that he was focusing on the littlest details.

“It’s going to be fine,” Chase spoke to himself. “Just do what Henrik said.” He took in a deep breath and knocked on the door.

It had been months since Chase got proper sleep, and medicine was no longer doing anything to help. It was suggested that he talk to an old friend of Henrik’s to try a different way of getting some rest. There wasn’t a lot of information shared, just an address, a note, and a name.

Marvin.

“Come in~!” A voice sang from behind the door.

“Oh…okay,” Chase said mostly to himself. He hesitated before swallowing and opening the door, stepping into the home, and getting instantly hit with some amazing smells. It was like a combination of a bakery and a flower shop, and it looked the part. Flowers and herbs hung all around and with little plates of pastries and other similar treats. There were also paintings on the walls, and getting a closer look at some made Chase widen his eyes and look away out of embarrassment.

“What can I do for you?” The voice from earlier spoke, and Chase turned to it, finding himself going still at the sight of the man sitting across the room. He didn’t know why his brain stopped working, but he couldn’t stop staring.

The man, who he assumed was Marvin, had long, full, bright green hair half tied up and half framing his face. He could only see the sharp angles of his jaw since the rest was covered by a white cat-shaped mask with some stunning blue eyes looking through them. Marvin lounged casually in a chair with an arm draped across the back. He also wore slacks, a button-up, a vest, gloves, and a cape. Each article of clothing was a shade of purple and had intricate lines of detail that seemed to make the eye notice every little curve of Marvin’s body. Chase now felt underdressed with his jeans, gray shirt, and hat.

“Hello?” Marvin’s grin grew when he noticed Chase’s shocked paralyzation.

“I-uh-I sorry.” Chase cleared his throat. “I was told you could help me?”

“Are you aware of my prices?”

“Prices?”

“Of course. My help comes at a cost.” Marvin got more comfortable in his chair, legs going further apart. Chase’s eyes went down to the moving legs, mainly on the thighs. “Nothing is for free, baby~” Marvin tapped at his thigh to get Chase’s attention on it before moving his hand and then curling his finger in a beckoning motion. “My eyes are up here.”

“Sorry.” Chase blurted out, his hold tightening on his note and reminding him he had it. “Henrik said to give this to you.”

“Henrik?” Marvin tilted his head and stood up, walking over to Chase and taking the note from him. He turned so Chase was now looking at his back. He flipped open the folded paper, read it, and softly groaned with a roll of his eyes. “Henrik.”

“Is everything okay?” Chase asked.

“It is just swimming, darling.” Marvin tucked the note into his vest before turning back to Chase. “Now, that little note of yours told me what you need, and we can discuss your payment.”

“I don’t have a lot of money, but I can try to get what you need.” Chase offered.

“Cash is rarely what I take since funds are easy for me to obtain.” Marvin wasn’t going to include how…legal those funds were. He made a point to look up and down Chase’s body. “What are you doing tonight, Chase? Or should I call you Mr. Brody~?” He asked the last part with almost a purr to his voice.

“Just Chase is fine and…uh…nothing? I mean, I might play some games. A friend of mine got me a new game as a birthday gift, and I’ve been having a lot of fun with it.” Chase smiled brightly and softly chuckled. Marvin’s eyes widened a little. That big, goofy smile confirmed he wanted what he would be asking for.

“Come back here around six and dress nicely. We’re getting dinner.” Marvin poked Chase’s nose before walking off to a little collection of different plants.

“Dinner? You mean like a date?” Chase touched his own nose.

“You can call it that. Henrik’s note said you need help with sleep, and I’ll need to learn about you to see which method would work. Everyone’s different, and magic can be picky.” Marvin gently held one of the hanging flower heads and sniffed it. “Plus, you’re cute, and it’s always fun to have a cutie on my arm for a night.” He glanced over his shoulder and winked at Chase, giggling when he saw Chase’s cheeks almost instantly turn red. “I’ll see you, then?”

“Y-Yeah…I’ll be-I’ll be here at-uh-at six.” Chase fumbled over his words and then his own feet as he tried to head out.

“Bye, sweetie~” Marvin sang, giggling once more as Chase finally managed to leave the house. “Henrik, you silly, silly man.” He pulled the note back out and re-read it, the last line getting him to chuckle.

P.S. He is single

#veggie writes #trickshot #chase is a gay disaster and marvin is hella confident XD #also henrik trying to be a wing man and it somehow working #meeting a magical man

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wednesday-the-writer · 2 years ago

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Squishy

Stranger Things | Byler | One-Shot, Fluff | 719

@ wednesday-the-lover 2023, do not repost, modify or translate my work, carrd link

summary: Soft s1 miwi in the hospital

requests/inspo: inspired by this post by @bylertruther

warnings: vomitting, set in a hospital, depictions of illness, mentions of trauma

a/n: apologies for the huge gap between posts, id hoped to post bi-weekly at the least but adjusting to a new routine has taken its toll

Will Byers’ short while being “lost in the woods” had led to a, somehow unpredicted, binder-full of medical issues. He was deficient in just about every vitamin and mineral that existed, often fatigued and dizzy, his digestive system struggled to take large amounts of food, seizures, trouble breathing, the list went on and on. None of this went unnoticed by Mike, who was with Will nearly every day for weeks after the incident.

“Hey, go easy on that!” Mike exclaimed as he watched Will gobble down his hospital-made scrambled eggs. “That doctor said you should eat slowly and avoid eating large meals!!” Will did nothing but frown at the darker haired boy.

Sure enough, not even thirty minutes later, the sickly 12 year old was hunched over a white bucket hurling his guts out. Mike crawled up next to him on the bed and gently smacked Will’s back to help him through the coughing and spluttering. Micheal cringed a little, Will ate so little most of the time, it was awful to see and oh god, to hear Will’s body trying to cough up nothing.

“It’ll be alright,” Mike soothed, rubbing Will’s back. “It’ll be over soon, don’t worry.”

Will spluttered and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his expression painted with disgust, “Blergh.”

“Are you okay? Do you need anything? I can get you whatever you need - or the nurses can if I can’t and I can call the nurses so you-” Will slapped a hand over Mike’s mouth, the other resting on his own head in which an awful headache was brewing.

“Maybe a glass of water?”

Mike nodded silently and rushed out of the room, grabbing a plastic cup and filling it at the water dispenser. None of the nurses paid any mind to him, they’d pretty much given up on reminding him (and the Byers) when they were actually allowed on the premises. Mike carefully watched the water slosh around as he rushed back to Will’s room, carefully handing him the cup.

“Thanks,” bubbles formed around Will’s mouth as he spoke into the water. Mike couldn’t help but softly observe every detail of the boy before him. His skin had a sicky green-grey tinge to it, but it was considerably healthier than the first day after he was rescued. The tinge was worse around his lips, they were practically colorless. Neither Will nor Hopper or Joyce would admit any information on what had happened in the upside down - Mike wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know, anyway. Will’s hair was tousled and messy from the endless days spent resting in bed, but there were still dark purple eye-bags under his considerably duller green eyes. It was obvious the boy had been to hell and back.

“Do you think you can stand?” Mike tore his eyes away from Will and glanced over to the bathroom. “I thought maybe you’d wanna brush your teeth, wash away the.. taste.”

Will nodded and set the plastic cup down on his bedside table as Mike rushed to move the throw-up bucket off the bed, setting it down on the floor and letting Will grip onto his shoulder to pull himself off the bed. He steadied himself and let go of the brown-eyed boy, fearful of being too clingy and scaring him away. But Mike caught his hand just as he started to take a step, his other arm wrapped around Will’s waist as he hooked the ill boy’s arm around his neck for his balance. Together they slowly walked over to the bathroom, Mike let Will sit down on the toilet seat as he quickly ran back to the bed to grab the toothbrush and toothpaste in the side pocket of Will’s bag that sat at the foot of his bed.

Mike prepared the toothbrush for Will as Will just sat and smiled slightly, he found it endearing how often the slightly-younger of the two would fuss and worry over him. He pulled himself up to stand at the sink and frowned at his appearance as he brushed his teeth.

“I still look like a corpse.”

“No, you don’t!!” Mike reassured, standing behind the boy and smiling. “I think you look… squishy.”

“Squishy?” Will’s face split into a smile as he turned to face Mike.

“Yeah!! Squishy.”

#wednesday-the-writer #wednesday's writing #divider: firefly-graphics #banner: liminal-creations #stranger things #will byers #mike wheeler #byler #miwi #fluff #one-shot #stranger things fluff #stranger things one-shot #byler fluff #byler one-shot #writer #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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museumgiftshoperaser · 1 year ago

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Part 4 "A Regular Thing" is now up!

Got a little spoiler free snippet for you here:

Steve smiles. “New York is starting to grow on me actually.” “Yeah?” “Oh, yeah .” He grins, somewhat flirtatious. “Finally starting to see the appeal. I mean… All the graffiti is still ugly as shit but-” Eddie gasps. “I can’t believe you just said that!” He raises both hands in the air like a giant gesture to the entire city. “Look at it, Stevie! This is art !”

Steve raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

They approach an underpass and a subway cart rattles over the tracks. Orange letters flash by, too fast too read, but Eddie thinks he can make out the word LOVE. By tomorrow that same train will be covered with different bright words, that’s how fast they work.

Eddie runs his hands along the buildings as they keep walking. The bricks shift from blue to green to black under his fingers. He hasn’t been out much the past couple of weeks. Months, maybe. But the city fills him with a new energy he’s been missing. New York is still the world’s biggest museum. It’s everchanging and everywhere you go there’s art you’re allowed to touch.

“I didn’t think you’d like it,” Steve says, but he tilts his neck so he can properly look at the cloud of graffiti on the building they’re passing. “Seems like artists would hate that sort of stuff, right? Painting without the proper tools? Without a canvas?” It’s an easy mistake to make, especially for people who’ve only ever seen that sixties shit. Or even worse, the conceptual nonsense from the seventies. Pretentious fucking assholes. With their big ideas and complete disinterest in any kind of beauty. In anything with a little oomph. None of that is what art is actually about.

“Street art is where it all begins,” Eddie says. “It’s like… Pure expression.” He pulls Steve by the elbow and drags him into an alley without warning. He hasn’t been in this particular street in a while, but the flash of neon colors tells him all he needs to know. There’s art here. It’s everywhere.

The buildings on either side are so close together, Eddie has to press his back against the brick. Steve mirrors his example and follows his gaze.

Every letter is as wide as a whole human body, hugging together to spell out RUSH. It’s gentle curves with zero corners. Eddie’s pretty sure he’s seen the tag around before, albeit in different colors. Smaller, too. Whoever has been making these is slowly shifting. Growing.

“So what does it mean?” Steve asks, whispering like they’re in a museum. Or a church. “It’s a name. It’s the name of the artist.” Eddie smiles up at the letters, still remembers the revelation. You can make a mark wherever you choose and if you want, it gets to be your name.

That way the city belongs to everyone. It could belong to you.

#steddie #steddiebang23 #if you're looking for more rambling about graffiti #and also angst #this one's for you <3 #only one more chapter to go after this!!

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ciarashoggoth · 3 months ago

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A Report! From Outside the Walls of Mallmart

There in the heat of the backrooms, Taylor Peyton asks me a question that makes my heart leap with joy. "Ciara, would you come with me after work?"

She's standing there expectantly, watching as I heave a canopy set onto my cart. Her face is serious, eyes drilling into me for an answer, no hint of humor on her face, because Taylor finally wants an answer. An answer to something bigger than whether or not I have time after work, and we both know it. Because this is a story about Taylor Peyton.

One thing about Mallmart, is that you have to keep your schedule wide open. Sure, you may be balancing your studies from school or college. You may have a second job to keep up with rent. Maybe you have an elderly relative that is relying on your help at home. Maybe your fragile psyche can only handle seeing so much that our store has to offer. Mallmart does not care, you will offer over your very soul to capitalism, and you will do it with a pinned customer service smile on your face.

I know this very well, and so every time I am asked to stay past my scheduled shift, I do not try to fight my fate. From 6am to 7pm, it's all the same. So when I was asked to work past 4pm that day, I paused. For all of my time working for this company, I have never said no to a superior. In fact, all of my life, I had been told that it was defiant and insubordinate to do such a thing. Taylor though-

No, this was special. Since it was special, it deserved a level of bravery. I needed to fight for it.

…And by fight, I mean that I said, "Oh, I'm so sorry. I really can't… I just remembered I'm violently ill! So, so sorry-" and somehow through the groveling, I found my way out into the parking lot, where Taylor was awaiting me, a small smirk painting her lips.

Honestly getting to hang out with her made me feel a little sad, like I was missing her already- but it was wonderful. Some things you should know about Taylor Peyton is that she does not jump straight into the questions that she wants to ask. She waits you out, and you get slow cooked like a boiled frog until you forget why you were withholding information from her in the first place. She would make a marvelous detective, it just comes so easy to her.

We went out on a dayboat or whatever they're called, she let me steer it and honestly all of our problems seemed so much smaller when we were off the island, looking at it from out on the water. I had to put you guys in a little waterproof bag to keep you from getting wet (my phone), and as the boat left the shore I found myself not caring where we went, or whatever came next. It was just nice to get away from the niceness of Niceville.

We ended up going to crab island, a spot in the middle of the bay where the ocean floor abruptly became shallow in the middle of the deep emerald waters. It was a hot spot for partying, and today was certainly not an exception. "You coming with me?" She easily sheds her top leaving her undershirt behind, before lazily swinging her legs over the side of the boat and plunging into the water. The water pulls at her dark hair as she floats in the current, and it's like she belongs there in the water, and she's looking at me, expecting me to follow. So of course I do just that, with my work clothes and everything. The water felt amazing though, and it was so green. That's gotta be one of my favorite things about this place, the color of the sea. "It blows my mind how warm the water is here! It's absolutely nothing like up north~" I let my body go limp against the water, and the current pushes against the aches that fill my body. "You know, you never answered my question-"

"What question?" Taylor levels me with a stare, and I let out a ragged sigh. "C'mon Taylor, I'm sorry. It was before I even met you and I just… Okay yes, I made a pact I just needed some luck on my side. I didn't even believe in the stuff, it was just a stupid thing to do." A fish jumps out of the water, snapping up a bird from the air and plunging back into the emerald waves. "I'm not mad anymore, I just want to understand is all. I feel like it plays a key role in why this town is the way it is."

"This town is perfectly normal. It was silly to even think something was wrong in the first place…" At this, Taylor gestures towards the blood in the water from the eaten gull, raising a brow at me.

The storm started rolling in fast, dark clouds rapidly approaching us as we waded through saltwater waves and feelings. I recall asking her, "Hey Taylor, we remembered to put the anchor down, right? That looks like our boat drifting away." And then Taylor said, "Oh yeah we put the anchor down, remember? There's no way that's our boat." And then a couple of minutes later, Taylor suddenly screamed, "HEY! THAT'S OUR BOAT!!" So then we were both frantically trying to get back to the runaway pontoon and I kinda had to swim in some deep waters just to retrieve it but I did and we hightailed it out of there.

Oh, the weather was amazing! Taylor was sputtering about how we were going to die and seemed in the middle of a panic attack but when I exclaimed, "Isn't this romantic? Too bad your boyfriend isn't here!" That seemed to get her to laugh. It was pretty hard to see Okaloosa through all the rain and sea spray so we kinda circled around for a while and eventually we made it to shore and away from the storm that was honestly already dissipating by the time we made it back.

We just kinda laid in the grass over at a nearby park after we brought the dayboat back, and talked about life. She talked about her boyfriend, about moving to Norway, about how she wants to find a place to call home instead of hopping from one place to another. She said I should get out of here too, that she's scared of what will happen to me without her around. "Where would I go? Norway?" And we just kinda joked around playing make believe on what I would do and stuff in Norway, pretending like I'd ever move when we know I can't. We talked about our dreams, about how she decided on pursuing a career in microbiology, about how she originally was interested in the medical field. I told her about how I once wanted to be a singer, or an actor like on those old television shows. You know, ones like 'I Love Lucy' and 'Threes Company'... and she didn't even laugh at me.

She told me she wants us all to meet up one last time, Aiden included before she leaves. It was nice. It was so hot we dried up mostly in the sun that was blood red and crying its humidity over us. I dunno, I just feel like for the first time in a while I felt like myself. Or more awake. Maybe not even myself, maybe the better half of me is long gone but whoever this is, I'm okay with now.

#daily report #weirdcore #humor #horror #suburban goth #unreality #dreamcore

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ramblinganthropologist · 1 year ago

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Writober 2023 23 - Celestial

Summary: If you look in the sky in winter, you can see Andraste's Mabari. You can also see two people on a roof, enjoying the night sky. At least they brought blankets.

---

It was a nice night… and she was an idiot on a roof.

“Man, where is he?”

Avery frowned as she peered into the distance, elf eyes working overtime. From where she sat on the roof of her house, she could see in multiple directions. Yet the streets were clear, save for a few drunks.

Had he not gotten the message?

“Damn it, and I went to the effort of getting up here…” She grumbled under her breath as she looked towards the ladder she had used to get up on the roof. Her shoulders sagged as she started towards it, ready to pack it in for the night.

Unfortunately – or maybe fortunately – for her, her way down was blocked.

“My apologies for being late.” Fenris stood at the bottom of the ladder, looking almost amused by her impatience. “Am I still allowed up?”

Avery felt her face color as she crept away from the ladder and back to her spot on the roof. “I was just checking to see if you were coming. Come on up.”

She swore she heard him chuckle softly, but that sound was soon hidden by the sound of Fenris climbing up the ladder to the roof. Soon his head appeared, then the rest of him, and he hauled himself up onto the roof.

He made it look so easy… damn the fact his legs were longer. And his arms… ok, all of him was bigger than her. But damn it all…

“Might I asked why you wanted to meet on the roof?” He shuddered – the wind was cold that night. “It is winter.”

Her response came with the blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders while she waited. They were both soon under it, pressed together under the night sky. Avery nestled into Fenris’ side, resisting the urge to nuzzle into him.

They could do that later, in bed, maybe.

“Better?” Her voice was soft as she wrapped her arm around his waist. “I have another blanket if you need it.”

Fenris responded with a soft smile and his arm around her to pull her close. “It is tolerable for now. Though why you wanted to come up here at night is beyond me.”

Avery responded by pointing at the sky above their heads. “I wanted you to see the sky. They said there was going to be shooting stars tonight and I want to see if they’re better than the ones back home.”

She didn’t say who ‘they’ happened to be, because ‘they’ happened to be Anders. The mage was currently with her brother elsewhere, enjoying the night sky. That left Avery and Fenris to their own devices under that blanket, staring up at the sky and waiting for something to happen.

“Oh? It has been some time since I saw a shooting star.” Fenris had his eyes on the skies – the green was even brighter then. “What were they like back in Ferelden?”

Avery had to remember how to talk – it took a few seconds. “Oh, they were great. The whole sky lit up sometimes. Once when I was a kid, me, Beth, and Carver counted over 50 of them in one night. Dad said it was a sign of something good was going to happen.”

She left off that the opposite of good had happened – that had been the day before she had killed a Templar trying to catch her sister. She still remembered the bastard every time she lifted her shield – his shield, painted over and sanded to hide the insignia – to fight. So… maybe the good thing was getting the basis of a cool shield.

“I wonder how many we will see tonight.” Fenris’ voice was soft as he gazed up into the sky. It was hard to read his face then, but Avery got the sense he was remembering a night too, maybe not a good one.

She didn’t press him on details, just pressed closer so they could share in her ridiculous body heat. It was one of the many upsides of being a reaver – she ran hot. It was great in the winter, but miserable in the summer. Luckily, she could use it to her advantage up on the cold roof.

For a while, nothing happened. But that was ok. Avery found she didn’t mind sitting there, making out the constellations her father had taught her when she had been a small child. How he had pointed each one out, naming them and telling her how to find her way home through them.

He too was gone, but she still remembered.

“Oh, look, there’s Andraste’s Mabari!”

Fenris cocked his eyebrow at that. “Andraste’s… mabari?”

Avery nodded as she jabbed her finger at a cluster of stars. “Yeah, the constellation Andraste’s mabari. You can always see it in the winter, and it helps you figure out what way is north if you find the eye. See, it’s the bright one right there!”

Next to her, her boyfriend chuckled. “Quite the interesting name you gave it in Ferelden. I think they called it the Staff of the Beresaad in Seheron, though I may be a bit rusty in the translation.”

…

Now, what kind of people call a dog a staff? She knew qunari were weird but… yeah, they were fucking weird. Not like kill them on sight weird (that was for Templars) but weird all the same. She’d have to remember that one for later.

“Yeah, I think I prefer calling it Andraste’s Mabari, it sounds a lot friendlier.” Avery chuckled too as she leaned on Fenris’ shoulder. “Besides, how’s a staff going to point to the north anyway? A dog will point home.”

Fenris shook his head next to her. “They were not seeking poetry in the naming.”

“Ugh, boring.” She rolled her eyes playfully, but thanks to that caught a streak of light across the sky. “Oh, I think it’s starting!”

Indeed, the first star had shot across the sky in a wide arc to the west. Soon it was followed by a second, then a third. Before long, the sky was glittering with shooting stars, each a brilliant point of light in the celestial bodies up above.

Avery’s heart skipped a beat with every star that entered her vision. At some point she clasped her hands together and prayed to whatever god or gods that were listening for her wishes. Since there were so many of them, maybe it was ok to double dip…

Safety for her friends and family, her sister out of the circle, Cullen breaking his fucking neck falling down the stairs…

Ok, maybe that last one was reaching a bit. But if the stars could get her sister out of the circle, they could shove him down the Gallows steps.

“What are you doing?”

Fenris’ words broke her out of her wish monologue. She turned to face him – he still had his eyes to the sky, watching as the stars streaked through the darkness. The glow in his eyes was even more beautiful than the sky itself – she would never forget that expression for as long as she lived.

“Making a wish on the star. You say it three times while you watch it go across the sky. My dad used to say if you got through it three times before it disappeared, then your wish could come true.”

She paused, then added, “As long as you didn’t say your wish. Then it wouldn’t come true. Only the stars are supposed to know.”

Silence followed her words. Avery felt her face heat up as she glanced away, half worried he thought she was being ridiculous. Normally, she didn’t mind that when she was trying to be a pain, but that had been sincere…

Boy, did she have regrets.

“…I think I made it all three times.”

Had it not been completely quiet, Avery would have missed Fenris’ remark. Thankfully, her ears were huge and they worked really well. That was enough to take her embarrassment and replace it with a feeling of warmth as she watched the sky.

“Did you?”

“It may have been a technicality, but I think so.” He pulled the blanket closer around them to ward off a sudden cold breeze. Avery was glad for it – even with her higher temperature, that was cold. “Did you manage to make a wish?”

She chuckled softly in response, lacing their fingers together. “Yeah, a couple times. I think they’re only going to consider one, though. I don’t think the stars are down for murder.”

Since she hadn’t said who she wanted dead, she was pretty sure that still counted. As long as she didn’t mention Cullen, it was all good. Stars had rules after all, and they had to abide by them when they started their sparkly nonsense…

At least, she was sure they had rules.

“It would be hard for a star to murder someone… unless it landed on them.” Fenris’ eyebrow cocked a little. “And with his armor, that might be difficult.”

Avery found herself cackling as she nudged his side. “Hey, I didn’t say who!”

“You have a very well-defined list, Avery.” His tone was flat, but his eyebrow gave himself away. As did the glitter in his eye, but that might have been from the stars shooting overhead. Avery could only smile at that as she leaned in to brush her lips against his.

I hope I can be with him forever. I hope I can be with him forever. I hope I can be with him forever.

The wish lasted as long as the kiss, which was probably longer than the star lasted in the sky. But it didn’t matter as Avery broke the kiss and smiled. Then she pulled the blanket tighter as they both watched the stars.

They stayed there for about a half hour, until the last star streaked across the sky. Once it was done, all that was left was the twinkling of the stationary stars and the glow of the moon. A cold wind blew, signifying that stargazing was over for the night.

“We should probably get inside before we freeze up here.” She turned to Fenris. “You staying the night or heading back?”

Fenris freed both of them from the blanket – fuck, it was cold – and folded it up neatly. “I would not mind avoiding walking home in the cold night, but if need be…”

That made Avery snort as she grabbed the other blanket and tossed it over her shoulder. “There’s a warm bed and a sleepy dog waiting for us then. Just make sure your toes aren’t frozen before you head down.”

Soon, they were both heading down the ladder, towards the cold ground and the darkness of Kirkwall. Once they were both on the ground, down came the ladder. Once it was safely away, both headed into the house.

Just like Avery had said, there was a warm bed waiting for them in her room. The fireplace and Chewy snoring at the foot of the bed made sure of that as the two got ready for bed. In the glow of the fire, everything was warm and cheery.

Avery got in first, patting the bed next to her. Fenris was soon next to her, and she wrapped her arms around him and pressed him close. Under the thick blanket, the beating of their hearts slowly began to sync, until it sounded the same rhythm.

“Night, Fenris.” Avery yawned as she nestled her head into his shoulder – no teeth, she wasn’t in a biting mood at the moment. “Sleep well.”

“Good night, Avery.” Fenris’ voice was quiet – he was almost asleep. Poor guy wasn’t used to late nights like her, so she had definitely kept him up past his bedtime. At least he had gotten a show out of it.

That’s what she was going to tell herself in the morning anyway.

Avery nuzzled close to Fenris as the heaviness of sleep pressed down on her. As she started to drift off, she spotted the sky out the window. There, the eye of Andraste’s Mabari watched down on her, letting her know she was home.

It had been a nice night. With any luck, they would do it again next year. Maybe even more than next year if her wish came true…

#writober 2023 #ramblinganthropologist's writing #Avery Hawke #Hawke x fenris

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silver-weasel · 3 years ago

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Diving (Deku x Reader)

Pairing : Deku x fem!reader (aged-up characters)

Rating : E, 18+

Tags : smut • fem!reader (she/her) • best friends to lovers / childhood friends to lovers • quirkless AU • p*rn with feelings (like. a lot of them) • public sex (more or less) • switching • hair pulling? • pining • Deku being flustered and an absolute angel what’s new • Reader being a teasing brat • It’s all soft and fluffy, I’m as vanilla as you can get 🤷‍♀️ • Happy birthday to the bestest boyyy I love him so much it hurts

Word count : 10 600 (Holy sh—)

A/N : Thank you @hoe-doroki my beloved and savior for beta-ing <3

Written for @rat-zuki’s collab in honor of our favorite birthday boy, The Deku Agenda Escapes no One. Thank you so much for letting me join! (go check out the other amazing writers and artists!)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

The ground grinds repeatedly under your hiking shoes, some pebbles being kicked forward on your way. You’re way too deep in the forest to hear any cars passing by and during the two hours you’ve been here you haven’t run into anyone. The place seems empty, the only souls breathing the forest’s thick air being you, Izuku and the birds chirping all around you.

The afternoon is coming to an end, the sun sinking down on its way to hide behind the mountains. The remains of its soft light are filtering through the dense leaves all around and above you. You’re surrounded by green, lush and immeasurable greenery, every plant merging into another.

You’ve left the marked paths, now wandering deep in the richest, boundless part of a forest you both know like the back of your hand after roaming it all over innumerable times. All over, except for this part, in which you’re setting foot for the first time today. Your many previous hiking sessions were shortened by your questionable sense of organization, always arriving too late to explore further into the unknown.

Leaves brush against your knees with every single step you take as you follow Izuku on his heels. He’s moving at a steady pace, his hands holding tight the straps of his yellow backpack that he’s had for as long as you can remember. He’s always so organized, has everything you two could eventually need and generally never do. Two huge flasks of water, an entire meal he calls ‘little snacks’, with sandwiches, fruits, protein bars, even hard-boiled eggs. A first-aid kit with disinfectant, bandages, scissors and painkillers. Hell, you’re even wondering if he has any pads for you in there, in case of an unexpected period. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

You giggle lightly when you see him stumble for the sixth time since you got here; he can’t seem to keep his curious eyes from drifting up and around, looking in every direction, probably retaining every detail and logging it in some impressive mental database of his. And he’s commenting on every little thing he sees too; he makes you notice things you never would have if it weren’t for his candid interest in everything.

“Oh! Look at that bird!” he exclaims, pointing at a branch over your heads. “Do you see it, right there, with the red mark!”

You turn your gaze to where he’s pointing and see a little bird, very cute, but so tiny you’re wondering how one could spot it without specifically looking for it. That’s probably what you like most about Izuku: his attention to detail. That’s the thing—nothing is too small for him, everything is worthy of interest. His eyes always light up with such curiosity, this child-like wonder and it was always one of your favorite things to witness growing up.

When he came over to your house at age six, he was always running around with some bug on his forearm, calling your name, yelling, “Look at this!”

Most of the time, it was a snail or a ladybug, and that always managed to catch your interest. Sometimes, it was a spider or a beetle, and he had you screaming in horror more than once, running to your mother’s legs with weeping eyes. Those times, he always watched you go with wide, sad eyes and a wobbly lip, because, “I would never hurt her, Mom! I swear I didn’t want to scare her!”

“Oh, yeah, I see it! It’s so cute!”

And it is cute, the way his huge green eyes go even rounder in amazement. You treasure these hikes for providing occasions to witness this. But as much as you wish this moment could last forever, the sun is beginning to set, you probably shouldn’t go deeper in the forest at sundown.

“We should probably head back to the car, Izuku. It’s gonna be dark soon.”

“Come on, it’s still so light—there’s no rush!” His lips crook a bit into an impish smile. “Scared that a bear is coming to get you?”

“There aren’t any bears here—we’ve been coming for five years.”

“Because if it’s the bears you’re afraid of,” he begins, ignoring you on purpose, “you know I’ll protect you, right?” he says, sticking out his chest like he’s some superhero.

“Against a bear? Right.”

“You’re underestimating me? That’s just mean.”

You chuckle at his antics, shooting him a look of yours that says, ‘Come on, please?’.

His eyes soften a bit, but he’s used to that look; it’s been years since it worked on him as well as you’d like it to.

“We can just keep going this way, then we’ll make a loop and head back to the car directly! It’ll be even shorter this way.”

“Alright, let’s do that,” you agree, and the smile it elicits from him makes something tingle deep in your stomach.

You move forward again, sinking deeper within the forest. It’s becoming harder and harder to walk, brambly branches and huge leaves blocking your way more and more with every step.

You’re a bit ahead of him when you catch sight of a sparkle behind the bushes. Just a glimpse of light, but you’re positive you saw it. Is there water here? You never really looked at a map of the place before—you just always went wherever you felt like and used the same tracks on the way back. You hurry up a bit, curious eyes fixed on that glimmer of light.

Soon enough the dense greenery comes to an end, and you’re finally out of the bushes, finding your way into a little clearing. You’re standing, speechless, in front of a pond: it’s about forty feet wide, catching the last rays of sunshine in a dazzling reflection. The water is surrounded by gigantic trees big enough to be home to an entire niche of biodiversity, and a half-sandy, half-stony shore with reeds rising from the water on both sides.

It’s all calm and quiet and massive trees, branches pouring, cascading above still water. The air feels cool, filled with a pure smell of dew and spring even though it’s the end of a hot day of July.

Izuku is close behind you and lets out a very cute, “Whoa,” ditching his backpack on the ground next to you in the middle of the cove. The both of you just stand there for a moment in complete silence, aside from the birds chirping. Izuku breaks it first:

“How come we’ve never seen this before? This place is amazing.” He sounds distant as he speaks, soaking up his surroundings like he always does.

“I guess you never know everything about anything,” you say mindlessly, without detaching your gaze of the wonderful view ahead.

He’s standing close to you, very close. You’re only noticing now that you’re coming down from the high of your discovery. Your arms are brushing, you can feel his body heat from how close you two are. It wouldn’t be the first time; you’re no stranger to being physically close to Izuku. You’ve been playing together since you were able to put one foot in front of the other. And you wish you could say it feels any different right now, but that would be a lie. Being close to him always felt the same. Always felt like the only easy thing in your life. The only constant.

Yet it’s not enough. No matter how close, it’s never enough, it never was. You hate yourself for feeling that way; you’ve never been the greedy, unsatisfied type. You have everything with Izuku. Well, almost everything.

But right now this place—this very quiet, beautiful place with no one in sight is doing things to your fertile imagination. Despite the sun just beginning to set, the summer air still remains thick with heat. You find yourself staring in the abyss of that water, admiring the masterpiece of a reflection on the surface, a painting of leaves and clouds and blue sky. It calls you, sings an irresistible song of fresh water on sweaty skin and strong, freckled arms wrapped around you.

You don’t know if the slight, insignificant detail that you would have to undress in order to dive into that water—since you didn’t bring a swimsuit—is a better reason to do it or to refrain from doing so.

You’ve lost count of how many moments you’ve shared with him just like this one. So many chances for you to take. You never have.

Back to the original issue: can you see yourself walk out of that clearing the way you always do? Can you see yourself going home, adding this missed chance to your growing collection of lost memories, of hands within your reach that you chose not to take?

The answer pops in your mind, crystal clear for the first time since you met him.

You drop your bag on the ground, turning to Izuku with a delighted expression stretching your features. The look on your face reminds him of one he’d seen on you as a kid, bouncing on the balls of your feet in front of the ice cream truck. At this moment he just knows you’ve got some stupid shenanigan in mind, like you always do. Once again, he isn’t wrong.

“Wanna take a dip?” You’re squinting at him from his side, a mischievous smile lighting up your face.

“I-I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” he stutters.

It’s been a long time since he last stuttered in front of you. He got rid of it years ago, but it still resurfaces sometimes in front of intimidating strangers or in a socially uncomfortable situation. Never in front of you, though.

“Me neither,” you answer plainly with that same impish smile, and his eyes go round at your implications.

“Wait, you can’t be—Oh my God—”

His heart does a great flip in his chest when he catches you taking the hem of your shirt up over your head. In less than five seconds, you’ve got him scorching hot, feverish and suddenly he can’t tell right from left.

His reflex is to bury his face in his hands. He respects you too much to take a peek, but you’re making things very difficult for him. He can hear you move towards the water, can hear the thump of your forgotten shoes hitting the ground one after the other, can hear the soft pad of your naked feet on the rocks.

“For the love of God, please, put it back on…”

“What? Look at this view, it would be a shame not to make the most of it!”

He’s not looking at the view right now, he can’t let himself. He knows very well he won’t be able to focus on the trees when you’re standing pretty much naked—although he’s not sure to what extent—in front of him. You could be entirely naked right now and he wouldn’t be able to tell, his burning face still hidden in his shaking hands. His voice comes out muffled when he stammers, “I-It’s starting to get late, we really should get back to the car…”

“What, you’re scared of the bears?”

He can’t see you, but he knows you’re sporting that smug grin of yours, the one he first saw when you showed him your impressive collection of Pokémon cards on your preschool’s playground. You’ll have to take a lingering silence for an answer.

“Izuku, come on. I don’t bite.”

He’s not entirely sure the sight of you won’t gnaw him to the bone, won’t melt his entire body down and leave him a hot mess. He won’t be a man anymore, just a walking flame fueled by the heavenly sight of you. No, he can’t let himself fall into that. Obviously you don’t know what you’re doing to him.

Nevertheless, you’re probably the most stubborn person he knows. And he’s friends with Katsuki Bakugou, for God’s sake. He won’t be able to get out of this as easily as he wants, especially as he hears the delicate noise of water splitting at your feet as you enter the little pond.

He slowly moves his hands off of his face. You must have your back turned to him, so maybe he can drift his eyes off somewhere—

You are in front of him, thigh deep in the water now. In nothing but your panties. Your white, flower-patterned lace panties that are doing a very bad job at covering your backside. He lets out a long, pained whine, standing in the middle of the little shore with his arms dangling down his sides, not sure what to do with them.

“Why didn’t you at least keep your bra on?” His voice comes out way more wobbly than he intended to.

You turn a little so you can look at him, and it takes every little bit of strength he’s got left to look you in the eye. But as you’re turning around, the smooth curve of your breast starts showing, and God, is that your nipple?

He wants a giant hole to swallow him right now. He wants some forest creature to come for him right this instant, anything to keep him away from you, keep him from doing things he might regret. To punish him for having such thoughts about you, because you trust him, you’re so oblivious, so innocent, and he’s so weak against this inner monster that’s eating him away.

With a little frown, you deliver the answer like it’s self-evident as you kneel into the water, the surface just above your chest:

“I didn’t want it to get wet.”

“But you’re okay with your panties getting wet?”

The realization of what he just said is slow but surely comes. And when it does, he wishes even harder to get erased from the surface of this planet he’s already lucky enough to share with you. There is a long silence, and all he can hear for a few seconds are the birds chirping and the violent pounding of his heart against his ribcage, straining to get out.

You turn back around to look at him, dumbstruck.

“I’m more than okay with that—”

“Please forget I just said that,” he cuts you off. He’s not sure he can bear to hear more of this.

“I’m never forgetting you said that. It’s pure gold,” you scoff.

He can only answer with a drawn-out whine. He doesn’t have any choice in this, does he?

When you dive in the water, he takes both his shaking hands to the hem of his shirt and starts undressing.

What the fuck am I doing?

The water is so pure you can see underwater as clear as day: the few rocks at the bottom, the little silvery fish all around you, and the last rays of sunlight permeating through the calm surface above your head. The water feels a bit cold on your naked skin since the sunlight and summer heat must only hit the clearing at certain hours of the day. Still, the cold water isn’t enough to clear your foggy mind.

What was I thinking?

You’ve always been a bashful person, why is it changing all of a sudden? Maybe it’s the devastating effect Izuku has on you.

You try to calm down a bit, taking a deep breath. So, you’re pretty much naked in front of him. Well, it definitely wouldn’t be the first time, and it (probably) won’t be the last. Now you just have to go through with your stupid idea. It’s no big deal, it’s only Izuku. Only Izuku.

Only Izuku.

Fuck.

You finally surface, not only because you can’t hide underwater forever, but also because, surprisingly, you’re not a fish, you have to actually breathe.

You push your dripping hair to the back of your head, still careful to keep your breasts under the water. Izuku’s already in to his hips when you turn around to look at him, your vision still blurry from the water trickling all over your face. He’s merciless, standing like that, only the elastic of his boxers peeking out of the water. You’re a bit surprised by the plain, black color. You were expecting something along the lines of blue, yellow and red. Izuku is full of surprises.

But nevermind the color of his underwear—what you find just above is mesmerizing. Your indiscreet, incorrigible gaze can’t help following the thin trail of hair tracing up to his navel, then the stunning lines of his abs, partly hidden behind his freckled forearms shyly crossed over them. The freckles spread up his powerful arms, gently sunkissed, scattering all over his broad shoulders.

Is he actually hiding, though? Doesn’t he know he looks like he was carved by the gods themselves?

“Have you done this before?”

The sound of his voice startles you a bit. Ah, right. You were shamelessly staring. It takes you a couple of seconds to force your distracted mind back into focus. “Done what?”

“Skinny dipping?”

“No, it’s my first time. It looks like it’s yours too.” His big, bright eyes drift around like they don’t know where to look. It’s really cute.

“It is,” he admits, now kneeling into the water as well. “I would’ve thought you were used to this.” You arch a single eyebrow in an amused frown.

“What, do I look like I have a professional degree in skinny dipping?”

“No, it’s just…You look confident, it just seemed like it.”

Confident? You’re nowhere near confident—you’re terrified. You try to keep your cool, but it’s probably the first time you’re putting on an act in front of Izuku.

“Well, you’re not so bad at it yourself.” You don’t miss the little blush coating his cheeks at that. “Also, I’m not exactly naked.”

“You’re not exactly dressed either, that’s a...v-very small piece of clothing.” He’s blushing a bit harder, looking away.

“Oh, seems like you paid some attention to my piece of clothing then, good to know.”

Now he’s quite simply scarlet. A very cute, very hot, freckled tomato. He’s so easily flustered, it only makes you want to tease him some more.

“Were your legendary All Might boxers in the dirty hamper? That’s a shame. I’m a bit disappointed,” you say in a mockingly innocent voice.

He doesn’t retort, simply stands there on his knees, shooting you an unreadable look and a little pout. After a few seconds, you open your mouth to continue, only to be startled by a strong splash hitting you in the face.

When you snap out of your shock, hair and face dripping all over your shoulders, you look up at him with what must be the scariest look of betrayal. Or the most ridiculous, apparently, since he starts laughing, louder and louder, and can’t seem to stop.

“Oh, you’re pretty pleased with yourself right now, aren’t you?” You can’t help but chuckle while talking, his laugh is so contagious.

“I am, yeah!” he manages to articulate, only starting to calm down.

As the calm of the forest returns, you watch his eyes go back to their usual round shape bit by bit, his face relaxing again. His smile causes butterflies to fly up and around in a whirlwind deep into your belly. You chuckle a bit at the feeling, almost embarrassed by how he’s making you feel like you’re in some dumb, cliche rom-com movie. On the outside, you must look a bit like a maniac, but he’s a nice guy, so he simply asks, “What is it?”

And before you can overthink yourself out of it, you’re hurling yourself at him. He barely has the chance to stutter a weak, “Wait!” before you’re putting all your weight on him, sinking his head deep in the water. Izuku may well be a nice guy, but you know he isn’t going to let you get away with this, so you’re not surprised when you’re dragged underwater by your legs. He lets go immediately, a bit abruptly, even, like it burnt his hands to touch you.

You both emerge from the water soon, and it takes you a second to get rid of the water blurring your vision, but then it hits you. How tantalizingly close you are to each other now, your bodies an inch away from touching. You’re both on your knees, enveloped in the coolness of crystal clear water and the reflections of the canopy of leaves above your heads. A spark of electricity makes you freeze on the spot; you’re so close to him your breasts slightly brush against his chest.

After a little eternity, you find the courage to look up at his face. He looks mindblowing, really. Despite the two decades you spent together, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen the pure, astonishing details of his freckles from this close. You would remember it, you definitely would. It’s a spectacular view, one of those visual memories that comes back to hit you in flashes. His nose and cheekbones are covered in them, drawing a mesmerizing pattern, more complex than the Milky Way itself. They’re an uncrackable equation, like a weird quirk of nature that you’ll never understand but don’t question anyway. They spread a little more scattered, but still very present, up to his forehead and down to his delicate jaw.

And his eyes—you could just drown in them. There’s this bright, blinding light there that feels like laying in the grass and looking up at the sunlight coating the leaves of this tree, the one you grew up near and always played under.

You swear you didn’t move, neither did he, and still you manage to get even closer to him. Now it’s you against the inexorable attraction that pulls you towards him like a fierce magnet. And it’s a losing battle, you think, as you’re both entering each other’s personal space like you share just one.

There’s nothing friendly about the way he can’t look you in the eye, seemingly too obsessed with your lips. You drop your gaze to his and find them calling for you. It’s been so long, now the thought of kissing Izuku seems unfamiliar despite being ever-present in your imagination for so many years. Like repeating a word so much it ends up becoming a series of meaningless sounds to your confused mind.

He’s the one who finally closes the distance, his lips landing on yours so softly you can barely feel them. He doesn’t move, simply content with the contact. You’re both eight years old again for a minute. The kiss feels like the little peck a kid would finally give to his crush in the middle of their school’s playground before running away to his friends.

Time seems to stop for God knows how long, and after what feels like no time and forever all at once, his lips move hesitantly against yours, bringing you back to reality. Right then, it all crashes on you like a tremendous wave. The distant echo of your mothers’ voices from the kitchen and the stupid cartoons they made you watch so they could talk for ten more minutes. The games alone together because no one wanted to play with you two weirdos. The piggyback rides, the dumb jokes, the video games (you always won). The neverending texting sessions at night because one of you couldn’t sleep. The fights that never lasted long enough to see the next sunrise because you both are way too weak for each other. All those stupid places that wouldn’t have looked half as breathtaking if it weren’t for him.

His lips are soft but roughly bitten. Hot and wet from the water and maybe from something else. He doesn’t taste like anything other than home, and that’s more than enough for you. His hands went up to cup your face at some point, but you’re too drowned in all the feelings coming up to the surface to pay attention to anything other than his soft mouth pressing on yours, more and more, opening up—

And it’s already over. You only notice that you’ve closed your eyes when you open them again when you don’t feel anything against your mouth other than the summer air. When your mind manages to regain any sense of function, the blurry focus of your gaze settles on his eyes. Wide open. Pupils eating up the dazzling viridian that puts the forest to shame. And a terrified expression in them.

He’s looking at you like he hurt you. His lips should still be on yours, kissing and sucking, not frozen like they are right now, obviously trying to express something painful as a few weak sounds pass their barrier before he finally manages to speak:

“Oh—Oh my God, I-I’m s—”

You don’t let him finish his stupid sentence. You don’t think twice before you take his face in your hands and lean in to kiss him again, with shameless intent this time. No more pretending—you’ve been waiting long enough for this and apparently, so has he.

It’s nothing gentle this time when your mouths crash against each other, teeth clashing and lips bruising under the weight of twenty years. You hold to his face like a lifeline, fingers sinking just a bit into his cheekbones, the tip of your nails getting caught in the knots of his dripping hair just above his ears. It’s messy, your noses rubbing before he angles his face better. One of his hands loops around your waist in a tight grip, forcing your chest to crush against his, the other burying in your hair at the base of your skull.

The feeling is electrifying, indescribable. It’s nothing like the pale, miserable depiction of your imagination. It’s discovering life in color when all you’ve always known was black and white.

The water is cool, but his body scorches against yours, burns your skin in the most exquisite way. The kiss is desperate on both parts, but neither of you is confident. His lips suck on yours with tentative motions, and you respond in kind the best you can. They are hungry, starving for flesh but don’t know how to hunt.

Your hands are gripping more and more of his hair, pulling harder, sending waves of heat all the way down his groin, and he’s not sure he can hide the bulge growing there for much longer.

He has to be sure, he has to be absolutely certain you want this as much as he does, because once he starts, he may not be able to stop. But you feel so good, all pressed against him. Your skin feels so soft under his hand at the small of your back he has to dig his nails in the skin of your waist so he doesn’t cross a line. But the curve just above your ass is begging for him to grip at the tender flesh and squeeze, fill his hands with it. He’s been dreaming about this for so long.

No, he can’t just hurl himself at you like a hunting wolf the first chance he gets—what kind of friend does that?

It takes him every bit of focus he has left to break the kiss, to part away from you. You have to discuss this, he can’t just throw away twenty years of friendship! Now you’re looking up at him with puppy eyes saying, ‘Why won’t you play with me?’ He breathes out a shaky sigh, and begins:

“Um, look. Believe me when I say I’ve wanted this for a very, very long time, and I love you so, so much. As a friend, I mean.” He sees you frown at this, catches a glint of something he doesn’t like in your eyes, then panics. “No, no, no, I mean, a-as a friend, but also more than that, o-obviously. But I don’t know what you want, you might be...d-disappointed, or...um—” His face starts heating up like it hasn’t in ages. He takes another breath, tries to clear up the muddled mess happening in his head. “Look, I just want the best for you, but you look...good, very good, and you’re making things very difficult for me, doing...this—”

“Izuku.” The deafening hubbub filling his mind falls suddenly silent, your voice a comforting, steady rock for him to cling to when his mind is storming out of control.

“Yeah?”

You get even closer to him, since he gradually set some distance while mumbling his anxious thoughts out again. You cup his face in your hands, a gentle, featherlight touch, and look up at him with determination in your eyes. You pull his head down a bit to settle on yours, your foreheads and noses connected, never breaking eye contact. Your lips graze over his, both your breaths mixing there, your voice a quiet whisper as you speak again. “Do you want me?”

Out of the jittery mess of his mind, the answer comes out like evidence, plain and simple: “Yes.”

“Then shut up and kiss me.”

You take action immediately, kissing him once again and this time he doesn’t hesitate to put his—still rather shaky—hands on you. The feeling of you is addicting, pushing his insecurities further in the back of his mind. He starts at your waist, running his thumbs there, feeling the goosebumps rising on your skin. They wander up your spine, counting every single bump of your bones, all the way to your nape. Then dragging them back down to settle on your hips, his fingers digging in the soft flesh. The little sigh you breathe on his lips causes an impressive amount of blood to run straight to his dick.

Your mouth is distracting, dizzying, sucking on his bottom lip, nipping playfully. His tongue slides over your lips, then against your own when you open up immediately for him. You’re pressing against him even more, your breasts rubbing against his naked chest and he swears you’re going to be the death of him. You’re hanging from his shoulders by now, your arms circling his neck, still gripping a handful of green hair, pulling. You have to stop doing this—he might cum right away. He doesn’t say it aloud, only lets a moan escape him into your mouth.

He wanted this, wanted this for so long, and now that it’s real, it’s beyond everything he could have imagined. The heat of your skin, the weight on his shoulders as you cling to him, your breath in his mouth, your little sighs.

He’s only now noticing that his hands have gone to reach their destination with a mind of their own. They’re on your ass underwater, feeling the white, wet lace, the sole cloth on your entire body—that thing is just there to tempt him. He’s unsure if you like what he’s doing until you release a whimper, louder this time, enough to send a vibration against his mouth (and straight to his cock at the same time).

Suddenly, he wants to taste a lot more of you. You’re all open up to him for the first time—he has to. He trails a series of open-mouthed kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, savoring every little sigh escaping your lips, then to your neck, dragging his tongue up the column of your throat.

The water is fresh all over you, and he doesn’t miss the shivers running up and down your skin at the contact of the twilight breeze. He needs to warm you up, needs to make you feel good, needs everything to be perfect for you. With his hands still on your ass, he trails lower down to your collarbone, allowing some occasional nips on the way that have you shaking. He freezes, looking up at you from there.

“Is this okay?”

The answer comes out breathy, a little desperate: “Yes, yes, please!” It sends a wave of heat all over him, the way you like what he’s doing to you, the way he’s making you feel good.

He’s not experienced or anything, only had a few hookups a couple of times, so he’s not very confident in his capacities, aside from running his hands all over you because that’s how his instincts are manifesting. You know him better than anyone—of course you would know how lost he could be in this kind of situation. But he also knows you’re not much more experienced than him, and that thought is comforting.

He’s experienced in one thing, though. He feels like the worst, filthiest person on the planet for this, but it’s astonishing the number of times he jerked off to the thought of what’s happening right now. How many times did he fuck his hand in the shower thinking about the water trickling down your skin, about licking it off your breasts all the way up to your neck.

So he does what he’s been dying to do for years. your breasts are just above the surface, so he sits on his heels and licks down your chest. When his tongue finally reaches your nipple, giving it a tentative lick, you let out a gasp, encouraging him to get bolder. And he does, closing his mouth on it like it’s the sweetest lollipop; it’s all cold and hard and raised from the water, but it warms up really quickly against the furnace of his mouth. His right hand leaves your ass to cup the neglected other, running his thumb against the bud, squeezing the flesh. That’s when you reach out to bury a hand in his hair, and pull again. God, you can pull on his hair all day and night like this; he’ll never get enough.

His left hand, still on your ass, rises up to the small of your back, feeling you arching more and more, pushing against his mouth. A harder nip has you gasping and he lets his hands run all over you, wandering without direction. It’s messy and urgent; he can’t help it—you feel so good, so soft under his hands. He’s like a kid getting to open his Christmas gifts in the morning after an endless, sleepless night waiting for Santa.

You trail your hand down his chest and his abdomen, a gentle reminder that the power he holds right now could slip through his fingers any moment. He’s willing to give it to you, especially since he doesn’t really know what to do next.

Like you just read his mind, you take his hands in yours, stopping their chaotic race. He’s feeling himself flush a bit—was he going too fast for you? Did he scare you? Or did he just let himself become overwhelmed by his feelings and it didn’t feel good for you? His eyes are looking down directly at your naked chest, he realizes he never took a proper look at them, too busy throwing himself to taste them. They look just as good as they taste, as beautiful as the rest of you.

Tentatively, he raises his eyes to find your reassuring gaze and fond smile. You lead his hands down slowly, setting them on your hips, over the criminal lace fabric preserving your modesty. Your foreheads connect again, but you never break eye contact. Lacing your fingers together, you guide his thumbs into the elastic on both sides, and now that he gets what you’re trying to do, his mind just stops.

Your voice is barely a whisper, a mesmerizing caress on his lips when you speak again. “I think I’ve waited long enough, Zuku.”

Your tone is fond, but you sound so desperate, it’s unbearably cute. His mind fogs up, the smoke of your words filling his skull and he wants to drive you as mad as you drive him. Sure, you’ve waited a lot, but so has he. He isn’t going to rush this, not if he has any say in it.

He slides your panties down your thighs underwater inch by inch. It’s even too slow for him; right now he just wants to rip the stupid piece of lace off of you and fuck you and him both stupid in the water, hard and fast. But even more than that, he wants to take his time with you, wants to take you apart piece by piece. And the testy whine it elicits from you makes it all so worth it.

You shift a bit so he can take your underwear completely off and, in a second, it lays abandoned on the sandy ground of the shore. Just knowing you’re now completely naked in front of him, it sends boiling desire flowing through every single vein in his body. He can’t see that part of you yet, the water darkening along with the sky clouding his view beneath the surface, but nightfall can’t do anything about Izuku’s wild imagination. He’s dizzy, feeling himself slowly falling into a half-conscious daze, but you anchor him right where you are, bringing him back to the reality of your arms hooked around his neck.

He rests his hands on your hips, dragging his fingertips down the soft flesh of them. The idea of touching you down there is making his head spin, he can’t wait any longer.

“Can I—”

“Yes, I want your fingers inside me,” you say before driving your lips back against his.

Without further ado, one of them goes straight to your core, making you jump a bit, breaking the kiss just for a second. He runs his index between your folds, feeling hot slick already coming out of you despite the fresh water around. His touch is light, slow, hesitant as it glides up and down, testing the waters. He’s getting a bit further, putting a bit more pressure with every stroke and earning a few pleased sighs from your heavenly mouth.

He expected a sudden reaction as soon as he found your clit, but that doesn’t mean he was prepared for the drawn-out moan coming out of your gorgeous lips, wet from his mouth and from your dip earlier. He wants to hear that again, every day for the rest of his life. He drags his thumb over it, again and again, slow at first, but then quicker and quicker, and your voice grows louder with every speed-up of his finger.

Your hands go frantic over him, running up his chest and down his abs in repeated motions that feel a lot like it’s lust driving your limbs much more than your mind. You stopped kissing him at some point, your mouth too busy expressing every ounce of pleasure you felt to focus on such basic motions. Your face is buried in his neck, your hot breath crushing against his skin.

He presses his index inside, but he’s so focused on what he’s doing, trying not to hurt you, that he doesn’t notice the shift of your own hand leaning down until he feels it cupping the painful bulge in his boxers. His eyes go wide with a gasp, and when he looks at you, you already have a playful, but intense, gaze piercing right through him.

“Did you think I was gonna let you play all on your own, Zuku?” Your fingers graze over the soaked fabric, down his entire length and to his balls, throwing gasoline on the fire that’s been consuming him for ages. “Don’t be selfish,” you whisper directly in his ear as your hands slip his underwear down his thighs.

As soon as the piece of cloth gets to join your forgotten panties on the shore, you wrap your pretty hand around him. And when you start stroking, his eyes roll so hard he swears he can see the inside of his skull. It feels better than he ever could have imagined; it’s blistering, astonishing. The only idea his brain can manage to work out right now is that he wants you to feel just as good.

He only notices now that his fingers stopped moving, and they go right back to a steady pace, but it’s a matter of seconds before he drives another finger into you. Soon, you’re both fucking the life out of each other with your hands. You’re sucking and nipping at his ear, and every single moan he draws out of you ends up turning against him, breaking into the defenses he built year after year by your side. He’s simply fucking into your hand now. He can’t help it, you feel so good. He doesn’t even want to think about what it’s going to feel like to fuck into your tight little cunt, he might cum hard just from the thought of it.

The spongy spot he finds inside you feels like he just struck gold. It’s glorious, the sounds you make right now, higher, louder. You’re tightening around his fingers, but it’s okay—you can crush them for all he cares. He wants you to moan higher for him, wants you to keep riding his fingers like your life depends on it.

“Izuku, ah—I’m close, I’m so close, please…”

“I got you, baby. I got you, shit—”

He quickens the pace again, feels like his fingers are gonna fall off his hand the moment he gets them out of you, but fuck, what his princess wants, his princess is gonna get. Your orgasms shatter the both of you to pieces, and in the bliss of his high, he can hear some birds flying away, scared by the harmonious, but probably very loud, song of your combined moans.

While his cum strikes out by ropes into the water, his clouded mind can only think about one thing.

He needs more of you.

You can barely stand on your knees, worn out from cumming the hardest you have in your entire life. You actually have to lean on Izuku so you don’t fall into the water head first like some boneless ragdoll. You just let your forehead rest on his shoulder and count the freckles there, splattered in a fascinating work of abstraction.

But apparently, he has other plans. You’re swiftly lifted up and out of the water, huge scarred hands firmly holding the back of your thighs that immediately come to circle his waist.

“Oh, nice. I don’t mind getting carried around like a baby. Where are we going?”

“Not far,” he says with a little grin, walking out of the water. “Do you think you’ll be able to walk?” His voice holds a sarcastic tone, one you’re not used to hearing out of Izuku’s angel mouth.

“I think I can manage, yeah.”

He drops you to stand on your legs, and immediately goes for his backpack. The sun has just set, its last rays of light filling the pink sky over your heads. You can still easily make out everything around you, and Izuku’s body is no exception.

You’re watching him with a raised eyebrow, letting your shameless gaze follow every curve you couldn’t see underwater. The day he started exercising in high school was the day you knew it was over for you. It was the day you couldn’t deny what you felt anymore, you couldn’t deny your best friend was everything you needed, and everything you wished for. The physical factor was only a—very pleasant— addition to the list of things that made you fall hard for Izuku Midoriya.

Your eyes linger over his impressive figure, staring at the dimples at the small of his back. You always knew they were here, but you never allowed yourself to look at them, to imagine how they would grow repeatedly hollow with every thrust of his hips into you.

He finally digs out what he was looking for: a plaid picnic blanket, because of course he would have one in there. He’s wearing a little victorious smile when he stands and turns around to spread it on a grassy spot that looks a lot more comfortable than the hard ground. He turns back to you but averts his gaze to the side, hardly looking directly at you for more than a second at a time. The heat of his gaze tracing your curves through quick glances pools deep in your core.

“You know you can look, right?” You sure aren’t refraining from doing so after all.

His face reaches its usual redness—hasn’t he learned anything from making you cum like crazy with just his fingers? It’s cute nonetheless; Izuku will never change.

He doesn’t answer your rhetorical question, only gives you a shy command in that tentative, very cute voice of his.

“Could you lay down on this for me?”

You saw this coming, but still, you’re a bit surprised he’s asking you that out loud. You gladly oblige with your legs pressed together, slightly bent. It’s another golden opportunity to tease him a bit:. “This isn’t exactly the right use for this blanket. Aren’t we supposed to eat on this?”

He smiles at the ground while kneeling at your feet.

“Maybe that’s exactly what I’m planning to do.”

Your sly smile fades away. His tone is a contradictory mix of shyness and determination, so it’s a bit confusing but also unbearably hot—you swear an astounding wave of heat is crashing through your deepest parts, untouched, just from some words and a funny tone. You rub your thighs together before he grabs and parts them to slip himself between them.

He crawls over you and leans down to kiss you, a bit more confident than earlier. His hips are pressing between your legs, where you can feel his hardness best.

He’s rutting more and more against you as the kiss intensifies. You could think it’d be a lot less exciting now that you know he’s going to eat you out, there’d be no suspense. Wrong. The little shit apparently likes to tease you to death, because he left your lips to kiss your face, nip at your neck, suck at your ears. Dragging his devilish hands everywhere, pressing harder each time you get louder. An especially heavy whine makes him buck hard, his mouth back against yours.

“The more impatient you get, the slower it’s gonna be,” he murmurs against your lips, and starts to make his way down to where you want him, kissing every inch of you, clouding your mind with desire. It’s way too much and still not enough; it’s maddening. When he finally reaches down, you’re on the verge of a second orgasm like you hadn’t just come down a few minutes ago.

He’s holding your thighs apart in a firm grip. Just the touch of his fingers burns your skin deliciously, and the look he’s giving you from between your legs...his eyes are clouded, half-lidded, looking at the part of you he’s never gotten to see before. It feels like he’s been looking forever and just a second at the same time.

He finally dips into you, leaving butterfly kisses all over your inner thighs, punctuated by little nips, nuzzling the soft skin. He’s not looking you in the eye anymore, his gaze lingering all over your body—all over except for your face. You can make out a slight blush on his cheeks despite the dimness all around. You know him better than anyone, so you immediately recognize what’s going on in his mind just from the slightest hint in his eyes. He looks like he’s fighting a battle against himself, his shyness against his hunger. And you know who you’re both rooting for.

He finally gives in, and it takes your breath away. A single, slight lick on your clit and you’re gone. And the next ones, more and more intense, more and more hungry, push you further to tumble over your edge. He grunts into your heat, multiple times. Moans like he’s the one squirming under your mouth.

His hands hold a firm grip on your hips, squeezing the flesh and keeping you in place—he doesn’t even give you an inch to move. You can only take and take and take. But you still have the luxury of your free hands, and they rush to bury in the knots of his messy wet curls, your nails dragging, scratching his scalp.

His lips close on your clit and suck just a bit, and before you can refrain, you pull on his hair, hard. He gasps, and the moment you think you hurt him, he breathes his loudest moan, right into you. You’re filled with the vibrations—they spread all over your body, have you throwing your head back, trembling from head to toe.

The louder you are, the hungrier he gets, filling you with his insatiable tongue. You have to look at him right now. And you expected quite a show, but you certainly weren't prepared to see this—him rutting against the ground like an animal. You realize he’s getting off just from your taste, just from eating you out. His hips roll repeatedly, making you salivate just to the thought of those same hips bucking into yours, fucking you into oblivion. And the more he ruts, the louder he gets.

Now if he wants to moan, you’re going to give him a good reason to.

You hint for him to face you with a light tug on his hair. As soon as he’s back up, he dives in to kiss you. You don’t let him. In a second he’s on his back with you seated on his hips.

“What did I say about letting you play on your own, hm?”

The ‘deer caught in headlights’ look is so cute on him. And the rest is a marvel to look at. You’re straddling him and he has no other choice than to let you devour him with your eyes—not that he couldn’t bounce you off of him with just a thrust of his hips, but he already would have if he wanted to. You let your gaze wander mindlessly over him—it’s surreal. There’s no way he’s actually under you, waiting for you to please him back with his mouth and jaw still shining with your juices. It has to be a dream—it’s always been after all.

You shift so you’re straddling his parted thighs. You can finally take a look at him. The whole thing, that is. His cock is resting against his lower stomach, hard and swollen and thick. It’s a pretty, bright pink, shining with pre-cum at the tip. Your mouth waters just at the sight of it.

He’s looking down at you, his face as flushed as his dick, that usual blush still exquisitely coating his freckles. You take him in your hand, dive in to give a lick to the tip and his head falls back down with a whimper. You let your tongue drag over the whole length on the underside, and your lips close around the tip in a wet smooch. His hips jerk up a bit, startling you.

You finally take him whole in your mouth, and you can feel his whole body tensing under you. You start bobbing up and down, going a bit further each time, earning a series of shameless moans because this boy is loud. You expected him to express himself during sex since he’s such a mumbler—and frankly, it was always one of your biggest fantasies, hearing him come undone because of you, lose any sense of shame and self-restriction when he’s such a anxious person otherwise.

But you could’ve thought about it every night and day and still never be ready for this. It’s sinful. His hand goes to grab your hair just like you did to him, and now you get why he liked it so much. The feel of his nails scratching your scalp is electrifying, soothing and destructive at the same time.

Your tongue hits a precise spot just under the tip and he jerks up again, nearly screams, “Fuck—yes, right there, please—d-do that again!”

And you do, you can only oblige—he asked so nicely. Your lips go up and down, over and over, your tongue grazing this spot with a bit more pressure every single time. You squint over him, and what you find there is a mess. Trying so hard not to buck into your mouth but failing miserably. Sounding like he’s at Heaven’s gate.

“Easy, Zuku. You’re gonna scare the birds away,” you chuckle against him, your lips brushing the tip, dripping with your saliva and pre-cum.

“Do I need to remind you…how loud you were for me earlier?” He’s looking back down at you as he speaks, a tremble in his voice telltale of his approaching climax. “You sounded...so good, baby, I swear...wanna hear you again, wanna make you scream, just for me, fuck—”

You can feel yourself soaking the blanket, can feel the slick trickle down your folds and stain the plaid cotton. Is he aware of what he’s doing? Or is he just saying whatever is going through his chaotic mind? In any case it has you starving. So you let go of his cock and, before he can protest, crawl back to his face and kiss him desperately. Tasting both of your fluids in a mindblowing mix.

You pull back just enough to be able to speak, because you need him to understand you loud and clear when you say: “Please, Izuku, I need you inside me, I’ve waited so long. Please.”

“Okay, okay, fuck—” He cuts himself off, his eyes slightly drooping like a sad puppy. “I-I don’t have any condoms.”

“You mean you probably have pads in there for me but no condoms?” you say with your eyebrows raised, your mocking tone hinting at a teasing remark, far from criticism.

He frowns in confusion. “How do you know I have pads in there?”

“So the legend turns out to be true. After all these years—”

“Shut up, you’re impossible,” he chuckles heatlessly, resting his hands on your back.

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill,” you assure him with a soft tone.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m on the pill, yeah.”

He rolls his eyes, then clarifies, a hint of hesitation clear in his voice.

“No I mean...you’re sure you wanna do this?” He marks a brief pause, takes a short breath. “With me?”

You don’t even think before answering, it slips your mouth like it’s not even your own words: “I don’t want it with anyone else.”

There’s a silence.

“Fuck, that sounds cheesy,” you scoff, looking away.

“It does, but we’re both cheesy idiots, apparently.”

You look back at him. His smile is so fond, so loving; it melts your heart in the best way.

“I wanna be your cheesy idiot,” you say against his mouth, looking right into his eyes, willing to fall in them.

“You always have been,” he nearly whispers. It fills your stomach with familiar warmth, intense and overwhelming, comforting.

There’s a bittersweet taste in your mouth, one of regret and lost time and God, we’re idiots.

Now it’s about time you make up for it all.

You look down at him, rolling your hips against him, dripping all over his cock, coating him in your juices.

“I think I asked you something, didn’t I?”

A whimper escapes him at the feeling. His hips buck up slightly, hands gripping at your back. When you do it again, you don’t get the chance to see his reaction; you’re on your back again, him towering over you, his thigh between your legs.

He’s looking at you with something in his eyes you don’t recognize, but the tone he speaks with has your entire body quaking.

“And you’re gonna get it, sweetheart.”

He holds himself over his left forearm, his hand thumbing at your cheek while the other strokes the whole length of your thigh. Your noses are brushing, your breaths crashing together. Your hands hold tight to his nape, playing with the short hair mindlessly as you’re waiting to be filled, finally.

You feel the stretch instantly. You try to focus on those mesmerizing emerald gems he calls eyes. They look right through your soul, eating you up and you barely feel the pain. He’s taking it slow, inch by inch, giving you all the time you need, caressing your cheek with a tender stroke of his thumb.

“Relax for me, baby.”

Izuku’s voice is a soothing sound over the incessant chirping of the grasshoppers. It was always one of your favorite things to hear, its every tone another blessing to your ears. It’s loving when he asks if you’re okay, comforting when he whispers sweet nothings to you as you cry on his shoulder, heartening when he’s going on about anything he’s passionate about.

He’s kissing every part of skin he has access to, over your face, your jaw, your neck. You feel yourself relaxing around him, and roll your hips up to give him the hint.

When he starts moving it’s still slow and careful. He doesn’t break eye contact, so you can see his every reaction, and he can see all yours. His hand is still playing with your hair, even as his pace speeds up with every second. The weight of him over you feels amazing, it holds him close against you, countless parts of you both rubbing together: your chests, your stomachs, your thighs. He doesn’t even have a lot of space to move. But getting to touch and get touched by him like this, it's incredible. You always had him so close to you, always right there and still so out of reach.

You still need more; you’re insatiable. You need to see him come undone under you, because of you. You push him to roll on his back, and you end up straddling him, setting the pace yourself. You start bouncing up and down on his cock, taking balance on the hard planes of his abs. He immediately reaches up to grab your hips, guiding you along.

His face tenses up, frowning, his nose wrinkling, his lips parted just to let out a series of breathy sighs. He looks wrecked and dizzy and stunning. He’s keeping his eyes open, fixed up on you, specifically on your breasts, bouncing with your every motion. And you can feel his gaze on your skin just as much as you feel his hands gripping harder at the flesh below your hips.

“Eyes up here, Zuku,” you coo with two fingers pointed at your eyes.

He doesn’t answer, only sits up easily and wraps his arms around your waist.

“You look so amazing, you have no idea what you do to me,” he says with a trembling voice, filled with bliss.

Your heart misses a beat at his words, they fill you with warmth and comfort because he definitely doesn’t have any idea what he’s doing to you. He delves his face into your neck, kissing and nuzzling, his breath coming shorter and shorter, crashing against your skin and his hands running all over you. The sound of his hoarse voice resonates through the forest and through your soul, echoing an enchanting song.

With little effort, he puts you back under him so he can pound into you with full force, and your legs immediately come up to wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper. Your hands grab his hair, tugging to see if you get the same reaction as earlier, and it doesn’t miss: he lets out a groan right into your ear, speeding up his pace again.

The sky is dark now, and all you can hear are his moans and yours and the slap of your hips coming together repeatedly. Your head is thrown back when he grabs you by the hair, forcing you to turn your head and face him.

“Look at me. I wanna see you.”

“Izuku, I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby. Let go for me, come on.”

Just the feel of his hand trailing down your stomach awakens something in you, this familiar pressure growing tight in your belly. And when his fingers reach your clit, a couple of strokes are enough to have you screaming his name, tightening around him, and pulling him towards his climax with you. His thrusts come franticly as you milk him dry, clawing desperately at his back, panting in his mouth as he leaned down to kiss you through both your climaxes.

As soon as he comes down, he rolls over on his side, still laying close to you, an arm thrown over you. You both take a minute to catch your breaths and, weirdly enough, you don’t hear anything aside from your panting. You really must have scared the birds away. Izuku breaks the silence first.

“Do you wanna...sleep at my place?”

He’s looking over at you and, despite the sky getting dark, you can easily imagine the blush coating his cheeks right now, like he didn’t make you scream his name, drunk on his cock two minutes ago.

You can’t repress your fond smile at his proposition.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

You take a minute to gather your clothes from all over the place and get dressed, then grab your bag to tug it over your shoulder.

“You got everything?”

Izuku is waiting for you just outside the trees. You take a quick look around, making sure you haven’t forgotten anything, and turn around without a second look at the place.

Because although it was your first time setting foot here, it definitely won’t be the last; you will come back here with Izuku every chance you get, making it your shared secret, your own little wonderland.

You gladly take the hand he’s offering, making him blush a little harder, and you head straight back into the forest together.

You walk side by side as a comfortable silence settles, only disturbed by the grasshoppers’ incessant, boisterous chirping. The sky is utterly dark now, you can make out a few stars shining above the dense trees. You walk at a steady pace, but Izuku is going a bit faster with every step. Soon enough, he’s walking a bit ahead of you, still holding your hand. Another golden occasion to tease his eagerness.

“Are we in a hurry, Zuku?”

In the dark of the night, you struggle to make out the look on his face as he turns around to look at you. A second later, he’s running, and with your hand firmly held in his, you can’t do much but try to follow along. You giggle as you run, and it quickly grows into a belly-deep laughter. He’s fast, doesn’t get tired, but you follow him anyway, probably as eager as he is. You have to zig-zag so you don’t run straight into the massive trees standing in your way.

You get to the car in no time, but you’re both out of breath when you finally get in your respective seats, ready to go home.

Izuku doesn’t even wait to catch his breath before he starts the car, the engine roaring loudly in the silence of the night, probably scaring the birds away for the upteenth time that night. You catch his happy grin in the headlights glow before he heads back into the road.

You have a feeling the night is not over; you’ve only got twenty years to make up for after all.

#bnha smut #deku smut #deku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #bnha x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya smut #mha smut #there it is omg it's long af #weasel writes

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hoodieofholland · 3 years ago

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Omg congrats!!! I just can't stop thinking about Tom making reader squirt for the first time and she's all embarrassed by it but tom is assuring her that it was hot af 🌷

Thank youu! Sorry for taking that long, but here we go! Also i got a little carried away, dont mind it

Warnings: SMUT (+18), dom!tom, slight degradation (name calling), fingering (f), squirting, unprotected sex, typos for sure.

You couldn't lie and say you didn't deserve what was happening right, you had been a tease the whole day with Tom, walking around the house in nothing but his t-shirt, no panties in the way, bending every now and then just to pick something you dropped on purpose, and massaging his shoulders every time you made a shitty excuse to go and talk to him while he was working.

And now there were you, head dizzy, chest coming up and down in panting breathing while you approached your high for the fourth time in a row... or maybe it was the sixth? You couldn't remember anymore. Tom was edging you for so long that all you could sense now was the wetness between your legs, the squeaky sounds it made when his two fingers entered your throbbing pussy with determination.

"Are you close, my love?", he asks, his chest vibrating against your back, his lips on your ear, bitting your skin slightly from time to time. You bite your lips, too scared of the tricky question, but still too aware that it was nonsense keeping it from him -- Tom knew when you were close. He knew your body from your head to toe.

"Yes, Tommy", you whine lowly, voice lost in between your moans and incoherent pleads for release. "Please- let me come".

"Course, darling", though his voice held nothing but sweetness, you knew it wouldn't work that easy. He took his fingers out of you and you squirmed in protest. "But only when I'm sure my girl has learnt her lesson. Do you understand why I'm doing this? Eh?"

He grips your jaw, making you look at him. You can feel his hard cock against your back, throbbing with every movement you make towards him.

"Yes", you drawl, too weak to answer something else. In front of you, there's a mirror, the one that is always standing in your shared bedroom. Tom liked to keep it that way, so whenever you both felt like it, he'd fuck you in front of it. Usually, you loved it, you loved watching yourself come undone, watching Tom take control and fuck you to oblivion. But today, today was different.

You were a mess, completely wrecked, and though you loved the fact that it was Tom who made you feel like this, you wanted to reach your high desperately.

"Everything okay?", he asks, peppering kisses along your jaw. He always made sure to ask before going back to edging you again. You nod your head, but it's not enough. "What's the word, sweetheart?"

"Green... green, you can- keep going", you respond, bitting your lips and closing your eyes and his hand slides down your inner thigh, so close to your heat. "Please, I wanna cum".

Tom gives you a harsh slap there and you jolt. "You're gonna get what I give you, brat. What is it? Did you not learn a fucking thing?"

You exhale a sharp breathe and shake your head. "I'm sorry, Tommy. I'll be good, I promise".

"You sure are", he smirks, rubbing the skin smoothly. "Cause you're my good little thing, aren't you?"

You nod and try to reach his lips, turning your head to the side. He kisses you deeply, but only for a brief moment. "You wanna take my cock?"

Before you can realise, you're whining in response, trying to grind your ass against his length. "Fuck, you're so greedy", he moans in your ear. "I'm gonna give it to you, pretty girl. C'mere".

You manage to adjust your position to align yourself with him, knees on bed as you feel your arousal slipping between your legs. Tom's eyes are fixed in your ass, teeth grazing his lower lip as his hands are gripping your waist to help you align your entrance with his cock.

He teases you a bit more, his red tip brushing your clit until you are forcing yourself down on him. This wasn't supposed to be something you'd do, but fortunately for you, Tom didn't seem to mind this time, too anxious to get your walls hugging him tightly.

"Fuck, always so bloody tight, darling", he moans, planting his feet on the mattress before starting to pound into you. "No matter how many times I fuck this hole".

You whimper, your belly already tightening as your high was close already. "Tommy, please, don't stop".

Tom chuckles between whines coming from the back of his throat, "You like begging to me, don't you, baby? Don't even have to ask, my greedy little thing".

Your head falls back and Tom gets the chance to grip your jaw and kiss you hard, lips messy and sometimes losing their contact as he thrusts his hips deeper, faster, making the sounds of your skin slapping echo through the room.

"Shit, Tom, I'm gonna- I'm gonna cum", you moan, your walls clenching around him viciously.

But before you can finally enjoy your sweet release, Tom pushes you towards the mattress, making you gasp in surprise. Your hair was all over the place, the palm of your hands laying flat against the mattress as your confused brain tries to catch on what was happening before Tom pulls out of you just to bottom out in a precise and deep thrust, the last one before he pulls out again.

"This is not how it works, sweetheart. Didn't learn anything, did you? Turn around, brat", he commands and you do as you're told, rolling on bed before he takes a hold of both of your wrists and pin your hands above your head. "You have to ask for it, love", he slaps the each one of your inner tights and you arch your back in pleasure and pain. "Thought it was pretty obvious by now".

"Fuck, fuck, 'm sorry, Tommy. Please, lemme cum", you cry out, bucking your hips towards him, but all you get is a mischievous smirk.

"You're gonna come, baby, but only after I'm finished. How does it sound, eh? Do you want my cum, pretty girl?"

You nod eagerly, licking your lips as he releases your hands. He takes a hold of his cock on one hand, lazily stroking it, and takes your hand on the other one, bringing it to his mouth. He places a kiss on the tip of your fingers, "You're gonna play with your clit f'me, alright? But you're not cumming. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Tommy", you whimper, bitting your lips as he licks your finger, spreading wetness before placing them over your bundle of nerves, and you start to give it slow circle motions, trying not to apply too much pressure to not cum before time.

"Yeah, baby, like that", he moans, fastening the movements of his hand over his length. "Oh, fuck, you're so gorgeous, 'm so fucking lucky".

You moan, breathing getting heavier as you bite your lips hard to hold yourself back.

"I'm close, darling", his shoulders fall towards you, his back curving as his high approaches violently. "Spread your legs a bit more"

"Cum on me, Tommy", you said, widening your legs, giving him enough view of your soaked core.

It took him only a few more intense strokes before he came, his white hot cum falling all over your pussy, making you clench around nothing. "Fuck, fuck", he rode himself through his high, eyes heavy as he tried to keep a look on you, on your bare pussy, your wetness and his cum painting you like a goddamn work of art. "Shit, look at you", he pants, recovering from his orgasm. "Gotta make you cum, pretty girl. Been so good to me".

You nod eagerly and jolt slightly when he slaps his hand over yours, taking it away from your clit and replacing with his thumb.

Tom straightened himself over bed, his eyes never leaving yours and he got down on you, his lips hungry and precise to make you cum as quick as possible and put and end to your suffering. You close your eyes, tilting your head back as your mouth falls open to a silent moan that gets stuck on the back of your throat.

Tom's fingers enters you and he doesn't take longer to curl them inside of you, making you whine and squirm with the closeness of your high.

"C'mon, love, you can cum now, cum on my mouth, pretty girl", he hums against your pussy lips, licking until he hits your clit, his fingers never stopping his work.

The edges, the great amount of stimulation, everything comes back to you as you orgasm hits your body, making you shiver and your body start to tremble. You moan Tom's name loudly, and he takes a hold of your hand when you starts to fist the sheets so strongly it gets your knuckles to turn white.

"Fuck, fuck, oh, my-", you let it all go away and feel the wetness of the sheets beneath you, while your hips buck towards Tom's face.

"Shit", you hear him gasp, taking his fingers out of you. You open your eyes slowly, breathing still coming in pants, and it takes a little while until you can focus on anything.

The first thing that you see is Tom's face covered in wetness, but it's not like other times he eats you out. His chin is visibly covered on it, and when you prop your elbows on the mattress to take a better look, you see his hands also covered on it. The sheets have a big stain of your cum and you can already feel your face turning red.

"You squirted", Tom said, eyes twinkling with something you couldn't recognize at first, a smirk on his face, but embarrassed as you felt, you assumed he was going to make fun of it.

"Oh, my God, I'm sorry", you whined, covering your face with your hands. "Shit, I've never- I've never done that before, I'm really sorr-"

"What?", Tom gasped, taking your hands out of your face. The smirk was still there, his brown eyes deep and bright. "What are you apologizing for?"

You blink, a bit confused at first.

"Don't you- uh, don't you think it's... gross?"

Tom scoffs, shaking his head. "Are you kidding me? That was the hottest thing I've ever seen", he said, eyebrows cocking. "And what the fuck, you mean, this was your first time doing it?"

You nod sheepishly and his smirk turn somehow even more cocky. "Fuck it, we need to do that again", he shakes his head un disbelief, leaning in to kiss you. You can taste yourself, "You're so fucking hot, darling, can't believe you're all mine".

You sigh in relief, easing yourself and letting yourself enjoy the kiss and the bliss you were still on after the intense orgasm. Eventually, Tom made you get out of bed, carrying you to a hot bath to take care of you and some light sores you might have gotten, but he didn't let you go get some rest before making sure you knew that was the first time, but not the last.

#hoodie 600's sleepover #tom holland #tom holland blurbs #tom holland imagines #tom holland fic #tom x reader #smut #tom holland smut

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boldlyvoid · 3 years ago

Text

Amethyst you so much

Summary: Spencer has had a crush on Y/N since she started working at the bau. She only ever works the night shift after a case, handling all the aftermath gracefully. one night, Spencer stays back and they strike up a conversation about rocks, causing their feelings to dig a little deeper.

Warnings: pure fluff, weed mention, hurt/comfort, grief and mourning

Word Count: 6.4K

Read on Ao3

Late nights at the office had become his thing since Gideon left.

He couldn’t bring himself to go home some nights without a game of chess, a cup of coffee, and the ambiance of the post case staff working. He would’ve had no idea about what goes on after they close a case if he didn’t stay behind most nights.

The phone rings almost every 10 minutes, and it’s always answered by the sweetest voice. The fax machine never turns off, and the most beautiful girl in the world is always running around placing papers in different places.

He’s been smitten with her since she started here, 2 years ago. Never seeing much of her since she was switched to the night shift, always wanting to just watch her from afar, never speaking to her unless he needed to.

“Yes, again we are so sorry for the door,” he can hear her voice from the back corner of the room. “Agent Morgan will be paying for that out of his paycheck, don’t worry, Mr. Kennings. We’ll be sure to remember your hotel when we’re in the area again. The FBI has a very generous budget for overnight cases. Of course, you have a good night too.”

She hung the phone up harshly and let out a deep sigh. He turned around to see her face in her arms, resting against the desk. She looked done, completely fed up. He would be too.

She looked up then, noticing that he was making eye contact with her. She awkwardly smiled and waved at him, “sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Spencer replied. “We asked for the key, I should have stopped him from kicking it in.”

She laughed then, walking over to his desk so she didn’t have to yell across the room. She sat on the corner of his desk lightly, “why do you stay every night?”

“Oh, um,” he wasn’t prepared for this. She had never talked to him before. She was barely able to even look at him when she used to place papers on his desk 2 years ago, now she was on his desk.

“I don’t like to bring the work home with me, it’s better to destress here before I go to my apartment,” he answered, half honestly.

She nodded slightly, “I get it. Luckily I go home in the mornings so the sun helps me feel better.”

“Going home in the dark isn’t fun,” she lightly smiled up at her.

“Do you want a coffee or anything?” She asked softly, “seeing as I am still your assistant as long as you’re here?”

He laughed lightly, “I would, but I’d like to join you in the staff room for it?”

“Okay,” she stood, straightening out her shirt as he stood as well.

He held the doors open for her, letting her walk out first, still smiling as she waited in the hall for him. Never being anything less than 1 foot from him for some reason, and he didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Do you like your job?” He asked lightly.

“Oh yeah,” she laughed. “It’s like customer service on crack. Have you ever had to explain to someone why you can’t pay for the cracked foundation after Agent Morgan’s ransacked a place?”

“I honestly never thought of who has to deal with the aftermath,” he awkwardly admitted to her. “I’m so sorry.”

She couldn’t stop laughing as they entered the kitchen, “it’s fine. I never have to apologize on your behalf, it’s everyone else who seems to be reckless. Sometimes I feel like it would be better if I came along to babysit.”

“That would be helpful,” he smiled softly as she entered the staff room.

He watched as she took a new coffee filter out of the cupboard. Emptying the coffee pot with ease, rinsing everything before adding the water and scooping in the grounds. He was mesmerized by how fast she was able to do it, then again it was sort of her job.

“What mug would you like?” She turned to him with a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Um, the purple one, if it’s there?”

“You really like purple, huh?” She teased him, standing on her tippy-toes to reach the mug for him.

She placed it on the counter before grabbing a white mug, it had a bumblebee on it, “bee happy” written along the top. It was perfect for her.

“Purple is a stress-reducing colour,” she explained. “When I was a kid my parents painted my room purple so that I’d sleep better.”

“I’ve always been drawn to it.”

She leaned against the counter while the coffee pot started to percolate, “Probably because of your anxiety, coffee doesn’t help that.”

“It’s in my DNA to be like this,” he tried to joke, knowing he succeeded when her smile crept back onto her face.

He was on a mission to keep seeing it.

“For someone who spends a lot of time with dead bodies, creepy places and bad people, you sure are a mousy little thing aren’t you?” She teased him.

“I also love Halloween, go figure.” He’s not sure where the confidence came from, being able to make light-hearted jokes like this was only easy with the team.

Which she technically was a part of. He’s seen her almost every single day for 3 years, slowly being able to get comfortable enough for this very moment.

“What else are you into, outside of here?” She asked honestly, making his heart swell as no one else had ever asked him before.

“Lots of things,” he sighed. “I love to read, I’ll read anything. But mostly I enjoy far-off worlds. Lord of the Rings, Star Trek, Doctor Who, Sherlock mostly.”

“No supernatural?” She gasped. “Sacrilege, honestly. What kind of nerd are you if you don't support supperwholock?”

“That's the show with the monster hunting brothers right?” He tried to recall it to his mind.

She nodded with a pressed-lipped smile, “it’s bad but in a way where I can’t stop watching every Thursday, they just introduced an angel who is pretty gay. Star Trek is cool too, I guess, I was raised by Trekkies.”

“My mom was into Doctor Who.”

“Mamma’s boy,” she teased him slightly, returning her focus to the coffee as she poured the now finished brew into their mugs. “She was nice when she came in that one time, I made her a very sweet coffee just like yours.”

He reached for the sugar then, poring a generous amount into his mug with a grin, “how much do you like?”

“the same amount,” she couldn’t help but laugh. “I hate the taste of coffee, but it keeps me awake.”

He poured the sugar into her mug as she places a spoon in each. Allowing him to stir his own before picking it up finally. Holding the warm ceramic in his hands, it was almost as warm as the feeling in his chest when he looked at her.

He’s felt it for a long time. He’s been caught staring at her by Derek, JJ even tried to get him to give her his number. Which she already had for when she calls him into work in the middle of the night. They knew he had a crush, he did too. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

“Come to my desk, I want to show you something?” She asked softly, avoiding eye contact as she walked towards the door.

He followed, like a lost puppy, all the way back to her desk. It was always neat, he always looked at it when he made his way up the stairs to the briefing room. He could even see it from where he sat at the table sometimes. Always wanting to see her leave in the mornings.

She had a collection of rocks that always changed, he loved the blue one the most but it wasn’t there currently. She had all new ones since the last time he looked.

“Here,” she hands him one. It’s brown and gold, the colours moving and shifting as he turns it with his fingers. The gold running through it like a beautiful wave.

“what’s this for?”

“It’s a Tiger’s eye, for good luck and happiness,” she smiled. “Keep it at your desk and maybe it’ll be easier for you to relax when you come back?”

The butterflies in his chest were swirling then as she looked up at him with pleading eyes. Wanting him to take it, wanting him to feel better. Caring for him.

“Thank you,” he barely whispers, clearing his throat softly. “It’s very nice of you.”

“You’re always nice to me, so,” she shrugged.

They sat down then, he dragged his chair from his desk over to hers. Sitting in close as she explained all the meanings to her rocks. He listened carefully, getting to examine each one as she spoke.

“This one is Jade, it’s for balancing emotions and allowing compassion so I don’t scream at everyone on the phone,” she laughed as she placed one in his hands. Her fingers brushing his palm softly.

It was a beautiful green stone with a thin white line running through it, separating into 3 directions as he flipped it over, “it’s beautiful.”

“I know some people don’t believe in this stuff,” she started to get embarrassed as she placed them all back on the shelf. “But I’ve always thought; if the moon, which is just a rock, can control the water, and humans are 70% water, then who’s to tell me the moon cycles don’t control my emotions and these smaller rocks can’t help problem areas?”

“You’re not wrong,” he shook his head softly as he thought her words over. “People depended on the stars and planets for guidance originally, as well as rocks and herbs for healing, just because it’s outdated doesn’t mean it doesn’t work?”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “No one has ever agreed with me that easily.”

“Anytime you want to talk, I’ll just be over there,” he pointed at his desk. “And I’m a phone call away?” He swallowed sharply at his boldness, trying to stay calm as he awaited her answer.

“I do have your number,” she smiled, reaching out to place her hand on his. “But you should go home, I’m sure you’re chilled out now.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, staring at her hand as they touched. He lightly wrapped his hand around hers, holding it slightly, running his thumb over her knuckles. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“And every day after,” she whispered, tilting her head as she smiled at him.

This was going to be interesting.

—

Penelope was always dragging him out. She would take him shopping, to dinner, to the movies. She was like his big sister, dedicated to making sure he wasn’t always cooped up or trying to retreat into a fantasy life.

She kept him busy.

She had 4 bags in her hands as they walked down the street, peering into the store windows to see what else she could possibly be interested in taking home for someone. That’s when they passed the natural health store.

He stopped in his tracks, seeing all the different rocks on the wall accompanies by little cards that described how they could help. He opened the door and rushed inside before Penelope even noticed he stopped following her.

“Good afternoon!” The shop owner called out to him. “How can I assist you today?”

“Um, the girl I like has a rock collection,” he says softly, knowing Penelope is behind him listening. “Crystals more specifically, I’d like to get her some?”

“Well, you came to the right place,” the man beams, escorting him to the wall of rocks. “What is she like?”

“Wonderful,” the words are carried out of his mouth on a sigh as he thinks about her. “She’s confident and nice, and caring. She’s always positive and just so lovely.”

“I’ve got you,” the man starts picking rocks off the wall and placing them in his hands.

Spencer follows him to the desk where he lays down a handful of rocks, Penelope is shockingly quiet as she stands beside him, staring at the collection. She’ll be full of questions later, all of which he is terrified of.

“This is a rose quartz, pretty basic love, beauty, anti-depression stone,” he pushes the pink and a green rock towards him. “Serpentine is for new adventures, observation and insight. I have a feeling you’re up for an adventure with her?”

Spencer nodded enthusiastically, “I like that one. It would be better to get her some rare ones, some that have to do with friendship, new beginnings, or opportunities?” He tried to explain his feelings as best as he could. Not knowing if he sounded dumb for a change.

The man smiled wide, “here,” he dipped below the counter and dug out a box. “Chrysocolla is literally for new beginnings, love and opportunity.”

He hands Spencer a vitreous, raw blue stone with small green marks running all through it, it’s beautiful like her. “This is perfect.”

“I’ll throw in a Kiwi Jasper as well, it’s for being by someone's side, support and trust. As well as a Ruby in Zoisite it symbolizes finding the joy in life with someone,” he hands Spencer two equally beautiful stones, prepping a bag and wrappings for all of them.

Spencer lays out the 5 stones he picked out, watching him wrap them with care before placing them in a bag. He rings everything up, Spencer pays and before he’s even out the door Penelope is pouncing on him for answers.

“Who?!”

He can't help but blush and stutter, trying to brush past her and continue walking down the street. “You can’t hide forever Spencer, who is she?”

“How do you know it’s a she?”

“You literally said so?” She looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Come on? I won't tell anyone!”

“Y/N.”

The gears are turning in Penelope's head as she tries to place a face to the name, knowing she’s seen her somewhere, “From the office?”

He nods softly, “the one Derek bullies me for staring at?” He clues her in more as they walk.

“He also bullies her for staring at you,” she adds with a smile. “She’s going to love those, when are you going to give them to her?”

“I was thinking about just leaving one on her desk every day? Maybe with a note for why I picked it?” He really wants to woo her, she’s too special to just flirt with.

“She’s going to love that.”

—

Sure enough, he walked into work every day for the next week, placing a rock on a sticky note on her desk. He was never around when she was able to see it, only knowing she got it when he'd arrive at work the next morning with a note reading 'thank you ♥︎ ' on top of his files.

He thinks about her all weekend, planning how he'll give her the last rock as he takes the elevator up that morning. Only to see her sitting at her desk, phone pressed to her ear as she tried to talk someone out of suing the FBI, she looked absolutely miserable. Just a casual Monday morning for her, almost at the end of her shift.

He rushed over to his desk, putting all his stuff down to dig one of the rocks from his satchel. Picking the Kiwi Jasper for today, he grabbed a pen and a sticky note and wrote her a little note.

“Always here if you need to talk, -Spencer ♥︎”

He walked over to her desk, she was still talking so she didn’t notice him until he was right there, she looked up at him with a thankful smile.

“Yes sir,” she answered the person talking to her. “Can I call you back after I speak to the chief? thanks.” She hung up on him, turning all her attention to Spencer.

“I know you know it's been me leaving these, but I brought you in another one,” he says softly, placing the rock in her hand and sticking the note to the shelf where it would end up.

“oh my gosh, Spencer?” She placed her free hand on her heart as she looked at the rock.

“You looked upset?”

She stands and pulls him into a hug, he can feel all the eyes on him as he holds her back, letting his chin rest on her shoulder as she squeezes him.

“Thank you,” she whispered as she pulled back, awkwardly smiling at him as she also noticed everyone staring.

“Always,” he smiled back, hand still resting on her arm. “Um, I have a case I need to get to.”

“Of course, good luck,” she smiled.

He pulls the tiger's eye out of his shirt pocket, showing her that he still had it, “kinda hard not to have good luck with this.”

She bit back a smile, her eyes gleaming as she took a deep breath through her nose. Releasing the same feelings he was keeping inside, allowing both their butterflies to swarm out together.

—

He loved when they had cases in Virginia. Being able to stay in the bullpen and work was relaxing, it was easier to think where he felt safe.

He was working on the geo profile all alone, a huge map stretched across a clear case board as he laid a yardstick across it. Drawing a thick red line with marker over it, in his own little world as he worked away.

He doesn’t realize she’s standing there too until she’s lightly pressing her hand on his back.

“Hey,” she whispers softly. “It’s 10 pm, thought you’d like a coffee?” She places the purple mug on his desk with her purse, turning her attention back to what he’s doing.

“Thank you, I’m almost done here,” he says softly, finishing the red triangle he was making on the map.

“I’ve always found it fascinating how you do this,” she complimented him. “You’re so careful.”

“Like baking, it’s an exact science,” he smiled softly.

It made her giggle slightly, placing her hand back on his back as she moved in closer to look. He wanted her to stay there forever, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus. He tried his best to steady his hand as he finished the line.

Putting the yardstick back down and turning to her, she doesn’t move her hand, instead, softly moving to rest on his arm as she stands close to him. “How are you?”

He feels nervous for some reason, it’s not like she hasn’t been this close to him before. It’s just that she’s close and she smells wonderful and he wonders if her lips would be a better wake-up call than the coffee she brought.

He realizes he’s staring at her lips when he licks his own, “I’m good,” he furrows his brow and clears his throat with a nod.

She smirks at him, “how come you’re the only one still here? Hotch said it could wait till tomorrow?”

“I was waiting for you,” he admits, “but I got carried away setting this up, I never heard you come in?”

“Cause I didn’t,” she scrunches her nose slightly as she straightens her stance. “I saw you working hard and went right to get you a coffee.”

“You’re wonderful,” he blushes as the words slip out, trying his best to keep eye contact when all he wants to do is kiss her.

She pats his arm slightly as she backs up a little, grabbing her bag from where she set it on his desk. “I’m going to set up for the night, come talk to me before you leave?”

“Of course,” he says as she walks away, letting out a small sigh as he realizes just how badly he wants her.

He never gets to talk to her before he leaves, she’s on the phone when hotch comes storming in. Saying something about another body and making Reid leave with him. He’s busy for 3 days straight, thinking about her with every free thought he’s able to squeeze in.

He carries the rock from her in his pocket everywhere he goes; in his pants beside his keys, in his bag with his books, in his breast pocket, over his heart, behind a bulletproof vest. Feeling it press against his chest, a part of her keeping him safe where ever he went.

They finish the case with minimal damage, Spencer specifically making sure that Derek leaves all the doors on the hinges for Y/N’s sake, cleaning up any messes they make so she won’t have to hear about it over the phone. They all notice that he’s doing it for her, quietly appreciating the fact that Spencer is happy for a change, that there’s a glimmer of hope in his eyes again.

He arrives back at Quantico 30 minutes before her shift starts. Everyone else is packing up for the day while he sits at his desk, reading to occupy the time before she comes in.

Only she doesn’t.

30 minutes pass and she’s nowhere to be seen, it’s only 9:02 by the time he starts to panic. Wondering if she’s okay, hoping she’s just in the elevator or grabbing a coffee that’s actually good, somewhere outside of the office.

“Reid,” he hears Hotch calling him from his office door. “She just called in, her grandmother passed away last night so she won't be in.”

“Oh,” he furrows his brow, looking at him with confusion. “How did you know?”

“Penelope,” he smiles. “She’s still here too, and she knows where Y/N lives.”

“It wouldn’t be weird to go see if she’s okay?”

Hotch just smiles at him again, “go see her, Reid.”

Getting her address from Penelope felt a little weird, but she writes it on a sticky note for him and he’s out the door before she can even pry into what he’s going to say. Which is good, because he doesn’t know yet.

It’s late, but he stops by the little rock store on his way to her house. Seeing the lights still on and the same man from before behind the counter.

“Welcome back,” he’s overly cheerful for it being so late. “How did she like them?”

“She likes the ones I’ve given her so far,” he smiles, looking over the wall himself this time for the right one.

Scanning past every emotion and affirmation known to man as he looked around, picking out a beautiful pink Rhodonite for healing grief, supposedly acting as a hug from emotional troubles. And a Rainbow Moonstone for inner peace, harmony and strength.

“She’s lost someone recently?” He asks as Spencer places them on the counter.

“Her grandmother,” he says softly. “These are good, right?”

“They’ll be perfect, we also have amethyst bracelets, they’re good for healing and drawing in positive energy,” he points towards the small display of bracelets. Small purple stones separated with small gold beads.

He picks up 2 of them, placing them on the counter as well.

“Is she still just a crush?”

Spencer laughs lightly, “unfortunately.”

“She might be more after this,” he smirks, ringing him up. “I’ll give you a 2 for one deal on everything, I have a feeling you’ll be in a lot.”

Spencer thanks him as he pays, picking out a small purple bag for the rocks and bracelet. Placing one on his own wrist before leaving. Also picking up some cookie dough ice cream and a card at the corner store just beside her apartment. Remembering all the times Penelope, JJ or Emily has mentioned it being the best ice cream for crying.

He takes a very deep breath before knocking on her door, hoping to every god out there that she doesn’t find this incredibly inappropriate and weird.

“Spencer?” He hears her voice before she even opens the door, looking out the peephole at him.

She whips the door open, eyes puffy and swollen as she looks at him in shock. She’s in a big sweater and shorts, tears dripping down her cheeks as she shakes her head at him.

“I thought you could use some cheering up?” He awkwardly smiles, holding the ice cream up for her to see.

She wraps her arms around his middle, burying her face against his coat. Still crying as she holds him, he holds her with his free hand, shushing her as he presses his cheek to her head.

She pulls back with a sniffle, “come in,” she offers with an arm out, ushering him inside the small room as she closes the door.

He takes his shoes off, handing her the ice cream so he can take off his coat and satchel too. “This isn’t weird right?”

“Not at all,” she laughs slightly through the awkwardness. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you care this much.”

“I brought something for you,” he says as he struggles to dig everything out of his pocket.

He hands her the card and the little purple bag, seeing the overwhelming glance grow on her face. Her eyes grew wide as he mouth opened, speechless.

She opened the card first, reading the passage about grief that was already provided. Dealing with grief was something Spencer knew too well, adding something a little special to the bottom of the card.

“To live in hearts we left behind is not to die,” -Thomas Campbell. As long as you remember her, with a smile on your face and love in your heart, she will always be with you ♥︎ Spencer

She wipes her tears with her forearm, placing the card on the counter beside the ice cream before she opens the bag. She pulls out the bracelet first, absolute shock on her face.

“Spencer?” Is all she can say, in a high squeak as she shakes her head at him.

“I didn’t want you to be sad,” he says softly, stepping into her space and placing a hand on her arm. “I love seeing you smile, and I thought this could help.

He takes the bracelet from her grasp and places it over her hand. Resting it on her wrist softly, straightening it out against her sweater as she notices the matching on over his shirt sleeve.

“Oh this is so cute,” she swoons. “thank you, really Spencer.”

“And there are some rocks for grief healing in there too, one is supposedly like an emotional hug which should heal the grief and sorrow, and the other is more for inner peace and harmony,” he rambles away, not wanting her to miss anything.

She pours the rocks from the bag, into her hand, looking them over silently with a smile, “they’ll look great on my desk.”

“The purple looks nice on you too,” he compliments her, watching her eyes drift up to him.

She places the rocks on the counter before wrapping her arms around him once more. This time he’s able to actually hold her back, tight as possible as he rubs his hand over her back.

She smells like home, clean laundry and happiness. She’s soft and warm, he holds her perfectly against his chest, like she was a missing puzzle piece that someone finally found under the table, she fits into his life like she was supposed to be there.

She kisses his cheek softly before she pulls back, causing him to pull her into a real kiss on impulse. Connecting their lips as she sighs into the contact, melting into his grasp as she kisses him back.

Her lips are soft, fitting between his own gently as she breathes him in. Her hands reach up to grip his cheeks, kissing him again and again, placing pecks to his lips and cheeks with her eyes closed as he giggles.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his lips, “for everything.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he whispers back, kissing her one last time before she pulls away.

“I was actually about to smoke some weed on the fire escape and probably cry some more,” she laughs lightly. “would you like to join me?”

“I’ll stick with a bowl of ice cream,” he smiled awkwardly.

“Nice one,” she laughs as she opens the ice cream.

“What?”

“Oh, you didn’t even get the reference you made,” she laughs lightly, “to get high you smoke a bowl, so…”

It makes him smile, “I'm a comedian part-time.”

He makes her laugh again, loving the sound of her giggle replacing the tears. “Why aren’t you this funny at work?”

He thinks about it for a little, watching her scoop the ice cream into two bowls, “it’s a little hard to make jokes when people's lives are on the line, I know everyone else does but I get too focused.”

“They probably wouldn’t appreciate your jokes even if you did make them,” she says as she handed him a bowl with a spoon. “They’re kind of mean to you, in a family way but it still sucks sometimes to overhear.”

She walks into the living area then, grabbing a few blankets and opening the window to the fire escape. Crawling out to sit on the ledge, waiting for him.

“I don’t mind it,” he says as he finally sits down beside her.

She places the blanket over their laps, both of them sitting criss-cross applesauce as they ate.

“Do you like your job?” She asks him, just like he once asked her.

“Most of the time,” he nodded as he got brain freeze. The cold air, the cold ice cream, everything that was catching up to him as he scrunched his face up at the feeling.

She laughs at him only a bit before she’s also attacked by the brain freeze, holding the vein in her neck as she chokes out another laugh, trying to warm up the blood going to her head so the pain would stop.

They’re both just a mess of giggles together, unable to say any words as they let it all out. She leans her head on his shoulder lightly as they calm down to just soft chuckles. He presses his cheek against her head.

“Thank you, Spencer,” it sounds like she’s crying a bit. “My grandma was a lovely woman, she’d be glad I’m laughing right now.”

He reached out a hand for her to hold over the blanket. She interlocked their fingers softly, both cold from holding their ice cream bowls.

“If she was anything like you, I’m sure she was the most wonderful woman,” he says softly, not intending to make her cry but having a feeling he might.

“Would you be interested in holding me on the couch while I cry?” She asked softly, tears in her eyes as she looked up at him.

“Whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

—

He’s late for work the next morning.

Waking up to the smell of coffee, opening his eyes to a strange view. He’s on a couch he doesn’t recognize in a room he doesn’t know too well.

Then he remembers, they ended up cuddled up on the couch. He wakes up to the memory of her on his chest, crying softly as they listened to some music, he ran his hand over her back while she went through it all, blessed to have his support.

He fell asleep under her at some point, waking up alone with a blanket laid over him. He sat up to see her in the kitchen, pouring coffee into a travel mug.

“Good, you’re awake,” she smiles at him. “Coffee is ready, I uh, I have this button-up shirt from a guy friend, if you wanted to wear that to work today? So they don’t think you stayed here?”

“That’s smart,” he replies as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

Getting up, he uses the bathroom, changes and takes that coffee from her. He’s not expecting her to kiss him on the lips at the door, but she sends him off to work like an old housewife.

He doesn’t want to pull away from her, keeping her pressed against him as he leans in for 4 more kisses before she finally pushes him out into the hallway with a laugh, “get to work!”

“Fine,” he sighs, “are you going to be in tonight?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “funeral is in West Virginia next week, so I’ll be in until then.”

“I’ll see you later?”

She nods slightly with a soft smile, “you’ll be seeing a lot of me soon, Spencer.”

“Good,” he winks at her before heading down the hallway and towards the street entrance.

He sighs as he walks outside, resting his back against the apartment complex door, taking a moment to think about everything that just happened, the night of company and the wonderful send-off.

It was something he could get used to.

He rushes into the briefing room when he arrives at Quantico, sitting down with his coffee and pretending he wasn’t late. Listening carefully to JJ’s presentation of the case as he flips through everything he missed already.

“Wheels up in 30,” he heard Hotch say as he zoned back in. “Nice of you to join us, Reid.”

“I know that travel mug from somewhere,” Derek said as he stared at Spencer, who was taking a sip to avoid the awkwardness.

“Hmm?” He played dumb.

“That’s Y/N’s. She washes it every morning when she leaves to go home, I see her do it every morning,” his eyes open wide. “Holy shit.”

“Isn’t that the same tie and slacks from yesterday?” Emily teased him as well.

“Her grandma died, I brought her ice cream and slept on the couch okay?” He all but yelled, flailing his arms slightly so they’d all back off.

Derek reached his fist out for him to pound it, “good man.”

Then Penelope noticed the bracelet, “did she get you that?”

He sunk his hand into his pocket then, “no.”

“What?” Emily and JJ asked in unison, straining their necks to try and get a good look at what she was talking about.

He nervously held his arm out for them, showing them the purple bracelet resting over the sleeve of his shirt. “I got one for her too, it’s for healing and peace. It’s what she needs right now.”

“Oh, so you love her,” Derek smiles as he teases him. Making everyone else in the room swoon slightly.

“Okay and?”

“Oh my god!” Most of them shout at him, embarrassing him to no end. He was so glad she wasn’t at work this morning or else she would be able to hear this from her desk.

“Did you kiss her?” Rossi pries, asking what everyone else was thinking.

He scrunches his face, pushing his glasses up slightly as he clears his throat, “a few times.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” JJ kept the questions coming.

“Not yet,” he said softly. “Kinda weird to walk into her apartment while she cries to say ‘hey sorry about the death in your family, want to date me?’”

“Yeah,” Emily agrees, shrugging lightly. “At least she knows you like her now, it’s been what? 2 years?”

“2 years, 3 months, 17 days and 43 minutes,” he confirms with a small nod and pressed lips.

“Gross,” Derek teases him.

“The plane is leaving in 10 minutes,” Hotch cut into their fun.

Making them all gather their things and continue the interrogation in the elevator, and eventually on the plane, and in the police precinct. Even Penelope called him in the middle of everything to bug him about her.

The questions were never-ending, everyone wanted to know how they even started talking, who made the first move, how he plans to ask her out. They were relentless, he almost regretted admitting to anything.

They bug him all throughout the day, all the way until they’re arriving back at the BAU late that same night. He almost doesn’t want to go back to the bullpen and see her with all of them, knowing they were going to follow and say something.

She’s waiting in the hall when the elevator doors open, a pressed-lipped smile on her face, “bad news.”

“Another one?” Hotch sighs, “have Garcia send us the info. Be at the table in 10.” He pushes his way out of the elevator, passed them all as they stare at Y/N.

“Hi?” She awkwardly waves at them all, showing off the bracelet on her wrist.

“See ya, Spence,” JJ and Emily say as they matt his shoulder, dragging Derek and Rossi towards the bullpen doors.

“Sorry,” he apologizes for them softly, stepping into her space.

She wraps him up in a quick hug, keeping one arm around his waist as she guides him towards the bullpen, “it’s fine, they’re going to have to get used to us being together.”

“Together?” He repeats her words.

“I only cry on my boyfriend's shoulders, if you're up for the title?” She teases him softly, pinching his side as they walk towards the doors.

“Can I frame “Dr. Spencer Reid, Y/N’s boyfriend” beside my Ph.D.’s?” He keeps his hand on her shoulder, holding each other slightly as they walk towards her desk. He felt like one of those kids who wouldn’t let go of their girlfriend's hand in the school hallway, attached to her at the hip.

“I’ll make one for you while you’re gone,” she laughs lightly.

They stop at her desk where he sees all rocks he got her collecting on the shelf, as well as a cup of coffee and his favourite kind of donut.

“Thought you deserved something nice too,” she says as she nudges his side.

He kisses her on the cheek as a thank you, “you’re welcome,” she smiles to herself. A feeling of pride growing in both their chests.

“See you later?” He asks as he picks up the coffee and donut, walking away slowly as she smiles at him.

“Come home to me safely, Doctor Reid,” her voice is just loud enough for everyone in the briefing room, where everyone is waiting at the window, watching them, deciding to put on a show in return.

He stops on the steps to look at her softly, “I’d fight a thousand unsubs to come home to you.”

“I’ll leave the light on,” she blows a kiss at him, making him blush a deep red.

He waves, making his way up the steps and into the briefing room. A smile on his face, heart thumping in his chest, all the support in the world swarming around him as everyone patted him on the back.

That tiger’s eye really did bring him good luck and happiness, and her name was Y/N.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #one shot #fluff

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styx1an · 3 years ago

Text

A Chat about Chat

A short fic about how Chat came to be a singular being, written by yours truly. By all means, this isn’t canon, it’s just my interpretation of things.

Word count: 1,863

Fandom: RTGame, Miitopia (NGL I’m a little displeased with how I wrote the ending, but oh well!)

You know, there is this odd sense of irony in knowing how terrified Chat was of Magical John when they aren’t even human nor a singular being in the first place. Wait, so you didn’t know? Of how they became such a being in the first place? (They chuckle.) Then I suppose that means I’ll have to tell you their story. Well then, shall we begin the tale of Chat? (You see the twinkle in their eyes. They must’ve been waiting a while to be able to do this.)

> You nod. You’ve been waiting a while to understand Chat’s origins. Tonight, like many others, belongs to the storyteller.

> You shake your head. No thanks, you think you’re too tired. Dawn shall rise anew soon, and you will not waste your time with tall tales.

(They nod, pleased with your decision.) Then I shall begin to relay their tale.

Our tale begins in the vast lands known as Twitch, a domain that belongs to another, a far crueler being whose tale is for another time. It is a place where one is free to express their opinions and whatnot (as long as it suits the many whims of its Amazonian overlords, of course), and many are versed in the easy to learn, but difficult to master art of gaming. Many such masters have gained a large following, and even if they do not possess such skill, more often than not their humor and charisma paves the way to fame.

One example of the latter would be RTGame, a man of sizable repute. Aside from the frankly ridiculous story of the origin of his moniker, he is also known for doing some… questionable things for the sake of entertainment. There are still tales of his quest in the bathtub along with Gilbert (yes, the very same Gilbert on the quest to defeat The Darker Lord Khadgar!), the night of the Painted Wall’s Communion, the birth of Mr. Compost- But my dear, we are here for one of his lesser-known exploits, one that would change the world as we know it.

> You lean closer to the campfire, watching the storyteller with a renewed interest. Where does the tale lead? Where does it end? You need to know.

> It’s getting even later. You think some rest will be needed before tomorrow’s travels begin. Perhaps the rest of the story can wait another time?

It was a dark and stormy night. The then-Dark Lord Von Karma had just been unleashed upon the land, and I Want Die set along the path of salvation with his fellow party members, Mr. Bean the Warrior, Goofy the Thief, and Mint the Horse. He was pleased with the ease with which they vanquished monsters and saved (literal) faces, but the lack of actual conversation within the party had begun to get to him. Mr. Bean had nothing to offer other than a simple “Bean!” every now and then, and Goofy terrified him with all the “hyuck!” and talks of absolving the world’s many sins. Mint is a horse and therefore cannot participate in a verbal conversation unless you happen to understand what her neighs meant. She also happens to be the most normal member of the party, strangely enough.

Either way, I Want Die longed for a proper conversation.

And God took notice.

It was inevitable. The fourth party member was always going to join, whether he wanted one or not. It shouldn’t be notable in any way whatsoever, yet here I am regaling this tale to you.

It is not how Chat had come to join the party that I wanted to explain, but rather how they came to be.

Do you remember the man I had called RTGame? I hope you had not thought of him as irrelevant to our tale, as he is the patron saint of I Want Die’s adventures. Surely you know of the vast armory that belongs to the party? The various delicacies fed to the team? All his work. Along with his followers’ contributions, of course.

Chat was what he called his followers, the ones who watched his various endeavors as he traveled across the land of Twitch. Oftentimes the crowd would conversate with him (hence their name), offering jokes and sardonic commentary whenever he did anything remotely comedic. Other times, RT would have to tell them off for being such a rowdy bunch- the usual group of thousands could never keep quiet for long.

It happened that Chat witnessed I Want Die’s pilgrimage along with RTGame. They all looked upon him with a jolly sense of humor (after all, their master is well-versed in the art of comedy), some wondering where his travels will bring him. The others who knew how it would all end kept silent at the behest of RTGame. Either way, every single one of them was enjoying the show he had put on for them.

And came the time to summon the fourth member.

As per usual, RTGame withdrew into his workshop, closing the curtains around him so no curious onlooker could see inside. But that did not stop Chat from yelling their predictions and demands.

“EDGEWORTH” one cried.

Another begged for a certain “End Mii!”

“CHAT CALM DOWN!”

“!uptime”

“69420toesucker just subscribed for 5 months!”

“TURG”

RTGame smiled at them. He wasn’t surprised at all at their reactions, rather it was something he had hoped would happen.

“Alright then Chat,” he said, “here they are!”

His pale, thin hands reached out to open the curtains-

And unveiled a faceless, empty husk of a being.

Under any other circumstances, Chat would’ve rioted, demanded justice against the irony of sending a faceless doll to retrieve the faces of others. But they had no time.

Almost in an instant, the skies darkened. Clouds swirled up above with vibrant shades of violet, cobalt, magenta. Bright blue lightning strikes a tree and dissolves it into dust. Somewhere distant, something roars. The air feels thick- something magical, something electric is positively buzzing. Magic truly is in the air.

And thunder strikes once again.

The crowd is gone.

Silence fell. All that is left is the master and the doll, no longer an empty husk.

> You look up to the storyteller, their eyes reflecting the blazing flames. You have a feeling that you know how this ends, but you’d rather have them confirm it first.

> You’re sleepy. As tempting as it is to continue listening to their story, you must admit that the very idea of slumber is even more tantalizing.

RTGame had managed to do exactly what he wanted. Chat’s consciousness, placed inside of a single, physical being. A puppet controlled by a hivemind would not be very easy to control, yes. But the idea intrigued him. And wouldn’t it be better than having a large gaggle of people constantly behind him, watching his every move? It could help I Want Die on his journey too.

So it is settled. It happened that one of the members of his temple had just crafted a rather nice puppet, in case RT needed one. And he did come to use it. It does look a little plain, as both body and head are painted in the same shade of bright white. However, the face was not white like how it was in the beginning, but a disturbingly pitch-black space. No, that’s not the right word.

Rather, it was like a void had formed. That’s also not the right phrase to describe it either, as there were drops of ichor dripping down onto the ground, dissolving the once green grass. But I digress.

Chat broke the silence that had fallen between them, wailing as a cacophony of noises and emotions spilled out. Despite what RT had done to them, they were still determined to voice their opinions. Quite in character, really.

“RT WHAT”

“NO NO NO”

“!uptime”

“I'M ON TV!!!”

“bazingabanana just gifted 5 subs!”

“that’s kinda meta”

As their voices grew louder, ichor kept pouring out of the void. As expected, RT thought to himself. He still needs to act fast. So with a quick snap, he fastened a wooden mask the temple-goer made; the same shade of white, a pair of beady black eyes almost as dark and soulless as the void, bright purple ears.

The yelling and complaining didn’t stop of course. Still, as their voices were muffled by the mask, it was an arguably better experience than the previous ear-splitting wails. And it was less deadly too. Ichor had stopped dripping down onto the grass, which meant that the constant sizzling would finally stop.

Now, one last thing.

RT stared into Chat’s eyes.

This in itself wouldn’t have been quite a remarkable action had it been anyone else, but it’s Chat that we are talking about. The very sensation of doing something as simple as gazing into a hivemind’s many souls wasn’t anything ordinary, either.

It felt like you had just plunged one of your hands into ice-cold water in the middle of winter and not only are you freezing, you’re scared and you don’t know whether you’d come out in one piece.

They all stared back. Thousands and thousands looked upon RT, all different yet whispering the same things, each claiming to be an individual yet virtually nothing distinctive belongs to them. A true hivemind. It’s exactly what he wanted, but he wondered if perhaps other troubles would arise.

He let himself go from their gazes. It asks too much of him.

“Alright then, Chat. Ready?”

A gaggle of voices reply, sounding their agreements.

“OK then!”

I Want Die finally opened the inn door, after convincing himself that he’d like this new friend. That this one would be neither an anime villain, a comedy star or a horse. Someone with actual rational thoughts and words to speak.

In front of the door stood a short figure, clad in a purple mage’s robes. Their pitch-black eyes looked at I Want Die, and a chorus of voices came from their permanent smile:

“Hi, I’m Chat!”

And I Want Die wondered if he had forgotten to cross off ‘hivemind’ off his list of potential party members.

Chat’s introduction ends here, of course. But not their tale. The journey was far from over in fact. The party had yet to meet the Royal Court, witnessed the court’s love affair, or get kidnapped by the Dark Lord Von Karma. Even the party wasn’t complete, as it was only the first party I Want Die would encounter in his tale of redemption.

And it’s not the only story either. You haven’t heard of Magical John’s past life, or how Cupcake isn’t as pure as she seems. Gilbert’s fear of the kitchen. How Jefferson came to be, and Obama’s past life with Mr. Bean.

But I’m afraid I must stop here, for it is late already, is it not? Our journey must continue tomorrow. Let us rest. Goodnight, may the stars shine for you. (They head off into their tent, leaving you alone with the flickering embers of a dying fire.)

> You bid the storyteller goodnight. Perhaps they’ll tell you another one of their stories, underneath the moonlight once more.

#rtgame #magical john #well i wrote! dont like how the latter half was written but ok #miitopia #writing #rtgamecrowd

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meruz · 4 years ago

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once again i am answering asks in a big compilation post. included is... gotham, patrick stump, tips about drawing backgrounds, tips about drawing in general, links to my faq, and infinity train

like.... the tv series? No... I’ve drawn dc comics fanart before, though. But it’s been years since I’ve been really into it. I like jumped ship like 10 years ago when the New 52 happened LOL.

AFJHDSLKGH I’m sorry I (probably) won’t do it again??

Actually full disclosure I have a truly cringe amount of p stump drawings/photo studies in my sketchbook right now LOL. He’s just fun to draw... hats, glasses, guitar, a good shape... but I don’t think I’ll rly post those until I can hide them in another big sketchbook pdf.. probably Jan 2022. Stay tuned........ (ominous)

(ominous preview)

These are all sort of related to backgrounds/painting so I grouped them together even though they’re pretty much entirely separate questions.... ANYWAYS

a) How is it working as a BG artist? Is it hard? What show are you drawing for?

I think you’re the first person to ever ask me about my job! Being a background artist is great. It’s definitely labor intensive but I think that could describe pretty much any art job (If something were rote or easy to automate, you wouldn’t hire an artist to do it) and I hesitate to say whether its harder or easier than any other role in the animation pipeline. Plus, so much of what truly makes a job difficult varies from one production to the next, schedule, working environment, co-workers etc. But I will say that I think while BGs are generally a lot of work on the upfront, I think they’re subject to less scrutiny/revisions than something like character/props/effects design and you don’t have to pitch them to a room like boards. So I guess it’s good if you don’t like to talk to people? LOL

A lot of my previous projects + the show I’ve worked on the longest aren’t public yet so I can’t talk about em (but I assure you if/when the news does break I won’t shut up about it). But I’m currently working on Archer Season 12 LOL. I’m like 90% sure I’m allowed to say that.

b) ~~~THANK YOU!! ~~~

c) What exactly do you like to draw most [in a background]?

@kaitomiury Lots of stuff! I really like to draw clutter! Because it’s a great opportunity for environmental storytelling and also you can be kind of messy with it because the sheer mass will supersede any details LOL.

I like to draw clouds... I like to draw grass but not trees lol,,, I like to draw anything that sells perspective really easily like tiled floors and ceilings, shelves, lamp posts on a street etc.

d) Do you have any tips on how to paint (observational)?

god there’s so much to say. painting is really a whole ass discipline like someone can paint their whole life and still discover new things about it. I guess if you’re really just starting out my best advice is that habit is more important than product. especially with traditional plein air painting, I find that the procedure of going outside and setting up your paints is almost harder than the actual painting. There’s a lot of artists who say “I want to do plein air sometime!!” and then never actually get around to doing it. A lot of people just end up working from google streetview or photos on their computer.

But going outside to paint is a really good challenge because it forces you to make and commit to lighting and composition decisions really quickly. And to work through your mistakes instead of against them via undo button.

My last tip is to check out James Gurney’s youtube channel because hes probably the best and most consistent resource on observational painting out there rn. There’s lots other artists doing the same thing (off the top of my head I know a lot of the Warrior Painters group has people regularly posting plein air stuff and lightbox expo had a Jesse Schmidt lecture abt it last year) but Gurney’s probably the most prolific poster and one of the best at explaining the more technical stuff - his books are great too.

e) Do you have tips for drawing cleanly on heavypaint?

@marigoldfool UMM LOL I LIKE ONLY USE THE FILL TOOL so maybe use the fill tool? Fill and rectangle are good for edge control as opposed to the rest of the heavy paint tools which can get sort of muddles. And also I use a stylus so maybe if you’re using your finger, find a stylus that works with your device instead. That’s all I’ve got, frankly I don’t think my drawings are particularly clean lol.

f) Tips on improving backgrounds/scenes making them more dynamic practicing etc?

Ive given some tips about backgrounds/scenes before so I’m not gonna re-tread those but here’s another thing that might be helpful...

I think a good way to approach backgrounds is to think of the specific story or even mood you want to convey with the background first. Thinking “I just need to put something behind this character” is going to lead you to drawing like... a green screen tourist photo backdrop. But if you think “I need this bg to make the characters feel small” or “I need this bg to make the world feel colorful” then it gives you requirements and cues to work off of.

If I know a character needs to feel overwhelmed and small, then I know I need to create environment elements that will cage them in and corner them. If a character needs to feel triumphant/on top of the world then I know I need to let the environment open up around them. etc. If I know my focal point/ where I want to draw attention, I can build the background around that.

Also, backgrounds like figure compositions will have focal points of their own and you can draw attention to it/ the relationship the characters have with the bg element via scale or directionality or color, any number of cues. I think of it almost as a second/third character in a scene.

Not every composition is gonna have something so obvious like this but it helps me to think about these because then the characters feel connected and integrated with the environment.

Some more general art questions

a) Do you have any process/tips to start drawing character/bodies/heads?

I tried to kind of draw something to answer this but honestly this is difficult for me to answer because I don’t think I’m that great at drawing characters LOL. Ok, I think I have two tips.

1) flip your canvas often. A lot about what makes human bodies look correct and believable is symmetry and balance. Even if someone has asymmetrical features, the body will often pull and push in a way to counterbalance it. we often have inherent biases to one side or another like dominant hands dominant eyes etc. you know how right-handed artists will often favor drawing characters facing 45 degrees facing (the artist’s) left? that’s part of it. so viewing your drawing flipped even just to evaluate it helps compensate for that bias and makes you more aware of balance.

2) draw the whole figure often. I feel like a lot of beginner artists (myself included for a long time) defer to just drawing headshots or busts because it’s easier, you dont have to think about posing limbs etc. But drawing a full body allows you to better gauge proportion, perspective, body language, everything that makes a character look believable and grounded.

Like if you (me) have that issue where you draw the head too big and then have to resize it to fit the proportions of the rest of the body, it’s probably because you (I) drew the head first and are treating the body as an afterthought/attachment. Sketching out the whole figure first or even just quick drawing guides for it will help you think of it more holistically. I learned this figure drawing in charcoal at art school LOL.

oh. third mini tip - try to draw people from life often! its the best study. if you can get into a figure drawing/nude drawing class EVEN BETTER and if you have a local college/art space/museum that hosts those for free TREASURE IT AND TAKE ADVANTAGE OF IT, that’s a huge boon that a lot of artists (me again) wish they had. though if youre not so lucky and youre sitting in a park trying to creeper draw people and they keep moving.. don’t let that stop you! that’s good practice because it’s forcing you to work fast to get the important stuff down LOL. its a challenge!

b) I’ve been pretty out of energy and have had no inspiration to draw but I have the desire to. Any advice?

Dude, take a walk or something.... Or a nap? Low energy is going to effect everything else so you gotta hit that problem at its source.

If you’re looking for inspiration though, I’d recommend stuff like watching a movie, reading a book, playing video games etc. Fill up your idea bank with content and then give yourself time/space to gestate it into new concepts. Sometimes looking at other art works but sometimes it can work against you because it’s too close.

Also something that helps me is remembering that art doesn’t always have to be groundbreaking... like it’s okay to make something shitty and stupid that you don’t post online and only show to your friend. That’s all part of the process imo. If you want to hit a home run you gotta warm up first, right? Sports.

I should probably compile everytime i give tips on stuff like this but that’s getting dangerously close to being a social media artist who makes stupid boiled down art tutorials for clout which is the last thing i want to be... the thing I want to stress is that art is a whole visual language and there are widely agreed upon rules and customs but they exist in large part to be broken. Like there's an infinite number of ways to reach an infinite number of solutions and that’s actually what makes it really cool and personal for both the artist and the viewer. So when you make work you like or you find someone else’s work you like, take a step back and ask yourself what about it speaks for you, what about it works for you, what makes it effective, how to recreate that effect and how to break that effect completely, etc. And have a good time with it or else what’s the point.

for the first 2, I direct you to my FAQ

For the last one, I don’t actually believe I’ve ever addressed artwork as insp for stories/rp but I’ll say here and now yeah go ahead! As long as you’re not making profit or taking credit for my work then I’m normally ok with it. Especially anything thats private and purely recreational, that’s generally 100% green light go. I only ask that if you post it anywhere public that you please credit me.

(and I reserve the right to ask you to take it down if I see it and don’t approve of it’s use but I think that case is pretty rare.)

a) @lemuelzero101 Thank you!!! I haven’t played Life is Strange but actually that series’ vis dev artist Edouard Caplain is one of my bigger art inspirations lately so that’s a really high compliment lol. And yeah I hope we get 5-8 too...!

b) Thank you for sticking around! I’ve been thinking about Digimon and Infinity Train in tandem lately, actually. They’re a little similar? Enter a dangerous alternate world and have wacky adventures with monsters/inanimate objects that have weird powers... there’s like weird engineers and mechanisms behind the scenes... also frontier literally starts with them getting on a train. Anyways if anyone else followed me for digimon... maybe you’d like Infinity Train? LOL

c) @king-wens-king I’M GLAD MY ART JUST HAS PINOY VIBES LOL I hope you are having a good day too :^)

a, b, c, d) yessss my Watch Infinity Train agenda is working....

e) aw thank you!! i think you should watch infinity train :)

#ask #trying this new thing where i tag people in the body of the post instead

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mandospace · 4 years ago

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My Moon (Boba Fett x Virgin!Reader Smut)

Request: Hey!! I really enjoy reading your fics <3 I don't know if you still take requests but if so, maybe something with current older Boba? Virgin, touch starved reader who is so kind but never gets kindness in return? Crushin' on Boba but you don't think he'd ever want you. Thank you for reading. <3

Requested By: @ortizshinkaroff

Word Count: 5,041

Warnings: SMUT! If you are under 18, DO NOT INTERACT! Swearing, dry humping, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), PinV sex, innocence kink, virgin reader

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this... like, a lot. If Boba could take my virginity like this I would DIE! Anyways, my requests are open so send in any Din or Boba requests you’d like me to write! I hope you all enjoy!

MASTERLIST

“Right behind you, mesh’la,” Boba passed behind you, his large hand splayed against the small of your back as he squeezed past. His touch was fleeting, only a momentary brush of his fingers over the dip of your back, but its effect was lasting. Heat coursed through your body like a tidal wave. It was burning on your cheeks and you ducked your head away from his gaze. He didn’t even notice your reaction to his touch, he just continued on his way up to the cockpit of Slave One, like it was no big deal to touch you. Yet here you were, nearly hyperventilating as you tried to calm your racing heart.

He shouldn’t have this much of an effect on you.

Kriff, he could just look at you and you’d melt into a puddle. You weren’t sure if it was the green and red armor, his walk, his broadness, his voice, his touch-

Oh, who were you kidding? It was everything about him. He was perfect, like the Maker hand-crafted him just for you. Gave him all of the qualities that you look for in a partner- strong, brave, incredibly handsome. He was both heaven and hell for you. Heaven to look at, hell to be near.

You were perpetually stuck in hell. Boba was nothing but kind to you, always treated you well. Protected you on hunts and provided you with everything you could ever want. Every glance he gave you, every story of his past he bestowed upon you, every lingering touch made you want the older bounty hunter. It was almost painful being around him. He was like a roaring fire that kept you warm but if you got too close, he would surely burn you.

That small little touch had set your soul aflame. You tried to calm down your racing heart and stop the images that flashed in your mind. You wondered how it would feel to be with him. The image of him coming back from a hunt, dirty and exhausted, pressing your body against the metal hull of his ship made your pussy throb with need. You had never been touched by anyone before, but you wanted him to touch you. To take you apart at your seams and put you back together just so that he could do it all over again. Your eyes fluttered closed at the thought of his large hands mapping out your body, leaving sparks in their wake. A breathy moan slipped past your lips and you rested your head against the cool metal of his ship. You needed to get a hold of yourself.

“Are you okay, mesh’la?” his voice snapped you out of your thoughts of him pressing into you. Heat flushed over your skin and your eyes opened in surprise.

“Y-yeah, why?” you cleared your throat, hating how desperate you sounded.

“I heard you moaning. I thought you were hurt,” he strode up to you and cupped your face in his hand. The worn leather felt delicious against your skin and his warmth seeped into your cheek. You flushed again.

“I just stubbed my toe,” you lied through your teeth. His forefinger and thumb gripped your chin and Boba tilted your face up towards his. He had never touched you for this long before, this intimately, and his dark eyes peered into your own. If he didn’t stop this, you were going to do something embarrassing. Like kiss him. He wouldn’t want that. “I’m fine.”

His eyes narrowed. “Be careful, princess.” Boba tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before walking back to the cockpit. His touch lingered and it felt like there were live wires littering your skin. You could still feel the pressure of his fingers gripping your chin.

Maker, you had to get a hold of yourself. You couldn’t think about your employer like this. Boba wouldn’t want someone like you, he would want someone stronger and more beautiful. A woman who knew what she was doing both in and out of bed, not some floundering girl that became flustered after one touch. He deserved better than you. Your brain told you all of these things, anxiety pilling on top of each other. The weight sat on your chest and threatened to push you under.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you got back to work. The day quickly passed on the ship due to its regulated timer. Even though the two of you were hurtling through hyperspace, the ship’s internal clock dimmed the lights in accordance with a planetary cycle. You had worked on many different projects during the day, fixing weapons and repairing the various mechanics found in the ship. You tried to distract yourself from the memory of Boba’s touch on your skin. He was so close to you earlier today, his scent so much more powerful due to his proximity. He smelled of blaster residue and rain. He smelled like home.

Shaking your head to dispel the thoughts of Boba, you made your way towards the cockpit to wish him a goodnight. He was in his pilot’s seat, fingers programming coordinates into the ship’s navigation system. The white streaks of stars and planets passing by the ship shined on his painted beskar armor. His helmet was placed on the passenger seat, black visor reflecting the light. He didn’t notice when you came in, or at least he didn’t give any indication that he did.

“I’m heading to bed,” your voice was small, worried that you were bothering him. “Just wanted to say goodnight.”

“C’mere, mesh’la,” Boba turned his seat to face you and held out his hand. His eyes searched your face, looking for any hesitation. Sucking in a breath, you made your way to him. He grabbed your hand when you were close enough and tugged you towards him. You stumbled over your feet until you came to a stop between his spread legs.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he squeezed your hand tighter and looked up into your eyes. You felt your heart stop when his free hand reached up to caress your face, gloved thumb gliding over your cheekbone. “You’ve been a bit... off lately.”

Heat coursed through your veins in embarrassment. You weren’t as slick as you thought you were in hiding your feelings for the older bounty hunter. You tried to say something, anything, but you just stood there- gaping like a fish out of water.

“You can tell me, mesh’la,” Boba tugged on your arm again. This time you couldn’t go any further forward and you fell into his lap. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. The other brought your legs up and over so that you were sitting sideways across his lap. His thumb started tracing patterns into the skin above your knee. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

He was so close to you in this position. His dark eyes met yours and your heart sputtered inside your chest. It would be so easy to just reach out and learn what his scarred cheek would feel like against your palm. So easy to pull him towards you and kiss him.

“Mesh’la.” his tone was pleading and the hand tracing patterns on your skin moved up your leg to grip your hip tightly. You couldn’t help but suck in a shaky breath at his touch. Your eyes dropped down to his chapped lips and you wondered what they would feel like against yours.

“I-“ your voice came out choked, the words stuck in your throat. Being this close to him was intoxicating. His very presence was like a drug to you. How were you going to explain to him that you wished he would take everything from you, take everything you had to offer? To take you on every surface of his prized ship until you were screaming his name?

“Girly, you’re driving me crazy with your silence,” Boba growled low in his chest. The hand on your hip moved up to grip your chin, making you look at him. “Tell me, mesh’la.”

The pressure of his thumb and forefinger gripping your chin and his proximity was too much. His scent was overwhelming. Everything about Boba was too much. Before you could stop yourself, your hand came up and tugged his face towards yours. Your lips crashed against his and fireworks that could rival the destruction of the Death Star erupted behind your eyes.

Boba groaned against your lips, his hand holding your jaw moved up and into your hair, tangling his fingers in your locks. His tongue swiped at the seam of your lips, begging for access which you happily granted him. Your tongue pushed against his and you couldn’t help how you pulled him even closer with both hands. The feeling of him biting your bottom lip made you whimper.

“Boba,” you whined against his lips when the need for air became too great. Need for him pooled in your underwear embarrassingly fast. He had barely touched you and you were already soaking through your panties.

“Mesh’la,” Boba moaned against your skin, his lips trailing across your face and down your neck. He stopped over your pulse point, sucking a dark mark into the skin that was sure to last weeks. His lips made their way back up to yours and pulled you into a bruising kiss. He wasted no time before he licked into your mouth. You had no idea that he even remotely reciprocated your feelings. When you had leaned in to kiss him, you were almost positive that he would push you off his lap in disgust. You never would have predicted that he would want you too.

“Need you,” Boba groaned against your lips, nipping your bottom lip again. The hand in your hair moved down and gripped your hip to reposition you in his lap. He grabbed at your thigh and tugged so that you were now straddling him, your legs on either side of his and pressing against the arms of his chair. Boba rolled his hips up into you and you felt the prominent bulge that was straining against the fabric of his flight suit.

Gasping, you pulled away from Boba in shock. Once again heat flushed through your veins, pooling low in your stomach and resting on your cheeks. His hands gripped your hips and ground your clothed center onto him, rolling his hips up to yours in time. The feeling of him pressing against where you needed him most was too much. You had never done this kind of thing before and you had no idea what you were doing. You didn’t want to disappoint him. “Wait.”

Boba’s lips paused against the skin of your neck before pulling back to look at you. One of his hands released their grip on your hip to cup your cheek. “What’s wrong, ner me'suum'ika?”

You were momentarily thrown off by this new name he called you. You knew it was Mando’a, just like the one he usually called you, but you never knew what he was saying. Blinking away your distraction, you met his dark eyes. “I’ve, um, never done... this.”

Boba looked up at you in confusion. “Done what?”

You were positive that you were burning hotter than any sun at that moment. Here you were, straddling the man of your dreams, his hard length throbbing against you, and you had to admit to him that you were a virgin. That you haven’t done anything before and that you couldn’t please him in the way you wanted to, the way he deserved. “I’m a virgin.”

He blinked twice at you, absorbing your words before a chuckle sounded from his chest. Dread dropped in your stomach like a rock until he opened his mouth. “That doesn’t bother me, ner me'suum'ika. If you want to stop we can stop.”

His soft words warmed you from the inside out. Boba gave you such a soft look when he told you those comforting words. He gently pulled your face to his and placed a soft kiss against your lips. While you loved how soft and gentle he was being with you right now, it wasn’t what you needed. You needed to feel Boba inside of you.

You experimentally rolled your hips over his clothed length, basking in Boba’s moan. His hand returned to your hip and he pulled you closer against him, rubbing his hard cock against you. “Mesh’la, we don’t have to-”

“I want to,” you cut him off with another roll of your hips. The feeling of his hard cock pressed against your core was incredible. With every roll of your hips, the fabric of your panties grinded against your clit in the most delicious way possible. The feeling of Boba pressing into you and his lips on yours was driving you crazy. You needed more of him. “Just-” the words caught in your throat when he pressed his cock against you, rubbing against your clit. “-have to show me how.”

Boba’s eyes darkened with lust at your words. A growl ripped through his chest and his grip on you tightened. “Fuck, baby, I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.”

He crashed his lips against yours and he rolled his hips into you. Your lips parted in a gasp at the feeling of his throbbing length and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth once more. Your hands traced down his chest, trailing over the cool green beskar. Stopping the motions of your hips, your hand palmed his cock through the material of his pants. He felt so big in your small hand and you haven’t even seen him yet. You went to unbutton his pants and release his throbbing length but he stopped you by grabbing your wrist.

“Not yet, ner me'suum'ika,” Boba tsked, pulling your hand away from his groin.

“But I need you,” you whimpered.

“Not yet, baby,” he grinned and pulled your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. “I’ve got to get you ready for me first.”

Boba stood up from his chair and grabbed your waist. You squealed at his quick motions and the sensation of falling but he easily pulled you against him and wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you through the hull of his ship and into his chambers before setting you down on his bed. Boba stood between your spread legs and took in the sight of you- chest heaving, hair wild, eyes dark, and lips swollen from his kisses. Maker, he wanted to take you right then and there but he had to be gentle and take his time with you.

Leaning over you, Boba pressed his lips to yours before trailing down your neck. Sighing his name, you relished in the feeling of Boba’s lips against your skin and his hands roaming your body. His large hands pushed the hem of your shirt up, exposing the soft skin of your stomach. He kept tugging up until your shirt was discarded somewhere in his room. Boba cupped your covered breasts and moaned at the feeling of your pillowy flesh. He dipped his head down and pressed kisses over your breasts, licking and sucking marks into your skin.

“Fuck, you look so pretty,” Boba kissed up your throat. He reached behind you to undo your bra, tossing it to the floor so it could join your shirt. His thumbs brushed over your nipples and a soft moan slipped past your lips. Boba had barely touched you but the pleasure was already too much.

“Boba,” you whined and tugged his face up to yours so you could capture his lips in a kiss. You trailed your hands down his armored chest, stopping right above his trousers. Gripping his hard cock, you moaned into the kiss. “Please.”

“Eager, are we?” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, ner me'suum'ika, I’ll take care of you.” His lips began to trail down your body, hands cupping and squeezing whatever soft flesh they could grab. Boba licked at one of your pert nipples and smiled when your breath caught in your throat. He made his way down your body and unbuttoned your pants, tugging them down your legs along with your underwear. The garments fell to the floor and Boba laid down between your spread legs, drinking in the sight of your sopping pussy. Your eyes screwed shut when he trailed a gloved finger through your dripping folds, collecting your arousal on the worn leather. Boba’s eyes were dark and the grin on his face was devious when he sucked on his finger, licking away your juices. His resounding moan made your hips buck in need. “Taste so good, mesh’la. Can I taste you again?”

His eyes met yours from between your legs, silently asking for your permission. All you could do was nod your head eagerly, the excitement and pleasure already building up. The answering smile on his face was beautiful, a bright white against his tan skin. Before you could commit the sight to memory, Boba dropped his head and licked a broad stripe between your folds. His tongue was searing against your core- unlike anything you’ve ever felt. The air left your lungs in a gasp at how good it felt to have his tongue on you. Boba licked at your cunt, gathering up and tasting your arousal before he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking hard. You moaned loudly- a little bit embarrassed at the sound he drew from you- but you couldn’t care less. Boba Fett was between your legs, lapping at your pussy like a man trapped in a desert and you were the only source of water for miles.

“Oh!” expletives constantly fell from your lips as he continued his delicious torture on your cunt. You could feel him smirking against your folds, proud that he was making you feel this good with just his mouth alone. The pleasure built up inside of you, threatening to spill over. Boba’s tongue dipped down to your entrance, drinking you in. He brought his gloved hand up to your folds, circling your clit before dipping down to where his tongue licked. Pressing in, Boba worked his finger inside of your tight cunt. It was only one finger but the feeling of it curling against your walls made you throw your head back against his pillows and arch your back in pleasure. Boba just smirked and wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, pushing another finger into your fluttering hole.

“Got to open you up so you can take me, ner me'suum'ika,” Boba hummed against your folds, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. He started to push a third finger into you, the pain of him opening you up stinging just a bit. “Maker, you’re so tight around my fingers. I can’t wait to feel you on my cock.”

His words were like an electric shock to your system. “Please,” you begged, grinding your pussy against his face and fingers. You could feel the coil inside of you tighten as he curled his middle finger against the bundle of nerves. “I want you.”

“Not yet,” Boba chuckled lightly, pumping into your pussy at a faster pace. “I want you to come for me first. Do you think you could do that? Come all over my fingers and mouth?”

Your jaw dropped at his filthy words, mouth forming an ‘o.’ You had never experienced this much pleasure before- your hands had never made you feel this good. You wondered if sex always felt like this or if it was just because of the bounty hunter between your legs. His fingers brushed against that spot inside of you and his tongue flicked your clit and before you knew it you were cumming on his fingers and mouth just like he wanted you to. Your back arched and your hands gripped the sheets under you tightly, a cry of pleasure echoed off the metal walls. It felt like you were floating above your body, watching you cum as Boba licked at your pussy, prolonging your pleasure. Soon enough you were crashing back to reality and the feeling of him continuously lapping at your cunt became too much.

“Boba,” you choked out, trying to push his face away from your pussy. Before the overstimulation became too much, he pulled his fingers out of you. His eyes seemed darker than they were before as he stared up at you from between your legs. The sight of your cum smeared over his lips and chin made your heart falter in your heaving chest.

“Did so good for me, mesh’la,” Boba cooed, pressing a kiss to your clit before he climbed his way back up your body. He pressed his lips against yours and you could taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss was passionate and it took what little breath you had away. You had never felt this much pleasure before and you desperately wanted to return the favor. You wanted to know what he tasted like.

“Not now, little one,” Boba stopped your hand that was palming his hard length through his pants. You whined against his lips but he just chuckled and gave you a quick kiss. “Tonight’s about you. I want to make you feel good.”

“Sucking your cock would make me feel good,” you mumbled against his lips. Boba’s eyes widened at your words, shocked that you could be so dirty. Heat flashed over your cheeks.

“You’ll get your chance,” Boba smiled and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Trust me, I want to watch you try to take me in your mouth but that’s for another time. Right now, I need to be inside of you.”

You couldn’t argue with him when he used such sound logic. Him voicing that he wanted to be inside of you made your pussy throb with need. Nodding your head, you pulled him into another kiss before he stepped back from you and began to shed his armor.

He was so broad with his green and red armor, but somehow he looked even bigger when he stripped his clothes off his body. Silver scars littered his skin, each one had a story and you desperately wanted to learn them while you traced your lips over each and every one. Boba smirked at the hungry look in your eyes as he took off his clothes. He knew he wasn’t the best looking man in the galaxy but the way you looked at him made him feel like he was. His cock pulsed in his pants with the need to be inside of you. He couldn’t wait any longer after months of dreaming about it. Boba tugged down his pants, freeing his aching cock.

Boba’s cock sprung free and the sight of him, all of him, made you gulp. He was so big, you weren’t sure how he would fit inside of you. His cock was both long and thick, and while you didn’t have anything to compare it to, you were positive that he was well above average. “I don’t think it will fit.”

Boba’s laugh was rich as it bounced off the metal walls of his chambers. “Don’t worry, ner me'suum'ika. It’ll fit, we just have to take it slow.”

You nodded at his words and scooted up his bed, making room for the bounty hunter. Boba leaned over you, arms on either side of your head. His large frame trapped you beneath him. Boba nudged his nose against yours before he captured your lips in a kiss. “Are you sure about this, mesh’la?”

“Of course,” your hand cradled the back of his head and you pressed your forehead against his. “There’s no one else I’d rather do this with.”

Boba was usually a very composed man- never one to show his emotions. But you pressing your forehead against his, unknowingly giving him a keldabe kiss, and saying those words made him flush visibly. The blush that dusted his tan, scarred cheeks was beautiful. Before he could do something stupid, like confess his feelings for you, Boba pressed his lips tenderly against yours.

Taking hold of his cock, he pumped his long shaft a few times before he dragged the tip through your wet folds that were dripping with your cum. A shiver ran down his spine at the feeling of his cock rubbing against your wet pussy. Boba notched the tip at your entrance, slowly rolling his hips forward and pushing into your tight cunt.

It was slightly painful, Boba’s cock pushing into you. He took it slow, only giving you an inch of his length at a time, letting you rest inbetween and grow accustomed to him. Soon enough, pain melted into pleasure and Boba bottomed out, the wiry hair at the base of his cock brushing against your clit. Your chest was heaving and you could already feel the pleasure building up inside of you again. Boba pressed another kiss to your lips, groaning at the feeling of your walls tightly clamping down on him. You were so tight around him and you felt absolutely perfect. It was like you were made for him.

“Can I move, ner me'suum'ika?” Boba panted, trying to restrain himself from pounding into you. Burying your face into his neck, you nodded and pressed a small kiss to his pulse point. Drawing his hips back, Boba grit his teeth at the feeling of your velvet walls dragging over his cock. He paused with just the tip of his cock in you, giving you a moment to adjust before he ground back into you. The sounds that you made were heavenly- breathless moans and whimpers mumbled against his skin. Boba slowly rolled his hips into yours, setting a languid pace.

Your nails raked down his strong back when the head of his cock brushed against that bundle of nerves. A gasp left your parted lips and you moaned his name, unintentionally clenching around his hard length. Boba’s hips stuttered against yours and he pulled your face back up to his.

“If you keep doing that, I’m not going to last,” he sheepishly admitted, nudging his nose against yours. A sly smile made its way onto your lips and the sight of you beneath him made Boba drop his forehead to yours. You felt too good.

“Me neither,” you captured his lips in yours and Boba picked up the pace now that you were used to him. The feeling of him grinding his hips into yours, cock pulsing hot inside of you had you seeing stars. He once again found that spot inside of you and you gasped, “there!”

Boba grabbed your leg and brought it up and over his hip, pushing deeper into you at this new angle. His fingers dug into your thigh and he could feel your release approaching with every brush of his cock against that bundle of nerves. Your breathing was picking up and the moans slipped past your lips faster. Boba brought his thumb down to your cunt, rough pad circling your clit. Your back arched and your chest pressed against his. The feeling of him dragging against your walls and his thumb working circles into your clit was becoming too much.

“Boba, I-” your words were cut off by a sob, tears began to form at the corners of your eyes. You could feel your orgasm approaching faster than before.

“I know, I can feel it,” Boba groaned into your mouth, picking up the pace of both his thrusts and thumb. Your walls were clenching around him and he could feel his own release building inside of him. “Come for me, ner me'suum'ika,” his hips snapped against yours and he licked into your mouth. “Cum all over my cock.”

It was too much- his cock, his thumb, his words- and you came crashing down like a meteor. His name fell from your lips repeatedly in sobs and cries of pleasure. Your nails were digging into the skin of his back and you were positive that you were leaving angry red marks on his tan skin.

The walls of your cunt clamped down around his cock and he could feel the juices of your release coating him. His hips pistoned against yours as he chased his own high. “Where?” Boba moaned against your lips, feeling his balls start to pull up tight with his impending release.

“In me,” you mumbled into his mouth. You were still reeling from your release, drunk on Boba. You needed to know what it felt like for him to cum inside of you. “Come for me, Boba.”

Your sultry words pushed him over the edge and he grunted and groaned as he spurted his cum inside of you. The warmth of his seed painting your walls was something you’d never forget- you’d cherish this moment forever.

Boba’s hips stilled and he could feel the need for sleep overcoming him. You were so warm, so soft- Boba wanted this for the rest of his days.

“Thank you,” you whispered, gingerly placing a kiss at the edge of his mouth. Boba cupped your face and pulled you into a proper kiss, tongue swiping over your bottom lip.

“For what?” he questioned, pulling out of you with a groan. Your combined releases spilled onto his sheets, soaking them, but he could care less.

“For this,” you pressed your face into his chest as he pulled you against him, his arms wrapping around your smaller frame.

“It was an honor, ner me'suum'ika,” Boba placed a tender kiss on your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. You smelled like home.

“What does that mean?” you yawned, nuzzling further into him. “Ner me-me’suu-”

“It means ‘my moon,’“ Boba smiled into your hair. “Is it... is it okay if I call you that?”

“More than okay,” you were glad that he couldn’t see your face because of how flushed it was. You pressed a kiss to his chest. “What can I call you?”

“Whatever you’d like, ner me'suum'ika,” his eyes started to drift close. “I’m yours.”

______

Mando’a Translations:

Mesh’la = beautiful

Ner me'suum'ika = my moon

698 notes · View notes

illyaana · 3 years ago

Text

Collab: Chaos's Bearsday Collab by @chaos-night

Thanks for having this Collab hun! I hope you had/have an amazing birthday <3

Tags: Aged Up! Birthday boy! Izuku Midoriya x Binaural, SFW, Fluff

Synopsis: You thought this was going to be a normal birthday with Deku - the only thing that was different is you were going to make Katsudon, pork cutlet bowls, for Deku. What you weren't prepared for was a flirty Izuku Midoriya.

Word Count: 1689

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You groaned at the sound of your blaring alarm, forcing you awake. You raised your head to meet Izuku’s chin. His hands were wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his body even more. You pressed against the bed, pushing yourself upwards to face the sleeping face of your beloved.

You adored the sight of the defenceless hero.

His dishevelled green hair mimicked a bush in the woods - wild yet so adorable. His lips were slightly parted, allowing soft snores to escape the powerful quirk user. His small freckles glowed under the soft sunlight entering your shared room from the window, leaving you in awe. His long lashes framed his closed eyelids.

Thankfully, your alarm turned itself off - he wasn’t letting you move anymore, not with the vice grip he had around you tightening unknowingly.

You couldn’t resist the urge to run the pad of your thumb against his soft lips - it looked so soft and supple. The rest of your fingers found their place on Izuku’s cheek, enjoying the warmth only he could radiate. You smiled, looking at the sleeping Izuku subconsciously pressing his cheeks against your fingers.

This is what you believed a life spent with him would look like - and you pray so that it stays like this.

“Hey,” you say as you kiss Midoriya’s forehead, “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Your alarm began to ring again, causing the hero beside you to groan loudly.

“Turn that thing off,” he said, placing his head on your shoulder, “We don’t need to wake up early today.”

This man… how was he the top hero?

You ruffled his hair, chuckling.

“Weren’t you the one who told me to wake you up early today?” you ask, recalling your conversation with him yesterday.

“I just wanted to spend the whole day with you, but I think we can do it from this bed, can’t we?” he said, pressing kisses on the nape of your neck.

“I think you forgot, Deku,” you say, cupping his cheeks, “You have a press conference with Bakugo and Todoroki today - you know, about your job as a hero?”

His eyelids shot open.

“Oh, shit,” he mumbled, making you laugh.

“It’s only,” you looked at the wall clock, “9 am right now. You have about 1 hour to get ready and head to the studio. That trip would take about 20 minutes.”

You smiled when you saw him visibly relax.

“Sadly,” you say, “You aren’t getting breakfast from me since I couldn’t even move one inch from the bed,” you gesture to his arms on your waist.

You kissed his forehead again, trying to wipe off the guilty smile he had on his face.

“Happy birthday, Midoriya Izuku. Now, go get ready.”

He kissed the apples of your cheeks before pressing his forehead against yours.

“Thanks, love.”

⁜

The minute you heard the door close, you got out your phone and called your mother-in-law.

“Hi!” she answered cheerfully, “You ready to do this?”

You turned the voice call into a video call, then propped your phone behind the salt shaker.

“Hopefully…” you trail off as you put on your apron, “You don’t think I’ll burn anything or cause a fire, right?”

“If you’re anything like Izuku in terms of cooking, we’ll be fine.”

You weren’t.

Pancakes, waffles - you could handle that.

But meat? It definitely was not your forte.

Izuku’s the one who handled all the savoury dishes while you were the resident taste tester.

“Don’t worry - the very person who introduced him to the savoury dish is right here, showing you each step in detail. You won’t mess up that much,” you said to yourself as you brought out the ingredients.

You laid them out in front of her, allowing her to examine them thoroughly.

“First things first,” she said, moving to her couch, “You’re wearing your apron wrongly.”

⁜

You stared at the pan filled with onions, eggs and fried pork, feeling defeated.

You were supposed to move all of that into a small bowl of rice.

You were supposed to move a bunch of slippery onions doused in sauce, a steamed omelette that looked like it was going to break into two and a pork cutlet that you slaved over - all of that, into a small bowl of rice.

“Trust me, it’s pretty easy,” Inko said, trying to calm you down, “It just looks intimidating.”

“Intimidating is one way to explain it,” you said, staring at your hard work.

“Just do it, don’t worry - you have multiple backup pork cutlets if you mess up.”

“I know, but-”

“Just do it.”

You immediately placed the toppings into the bowl of rice without any spillage.

...or so you thought.

The whole thing spilt over the sides of the pan, missing the bowl of rice entirely.

“Try again, dear,” she said smiling, “No harm in trying again.”

⁜

After 5 tries, you managed to make two perfect bowls of fresh katsudon. The smell of the fried pork cutlets wafted through the air, making you smile at your hard work.

“It looks really good, dear,” she said, smiling, “He’ll love it.”

You smile at her cheerful gaze towards you.

“You sure you don’t want to come over? It’s just a fifteen-minute drive.”

“I appreciate you asking me,” she said, sighing, “But I think you two should spend the day together. I’m pretty sure you both haven’t spent much time together since your honeymoon.”

“You sure?” you ask once again.

“I’m very, very sure,” she says, chuckling, “Now go get ready.”

You placed your phone flat on the countertop and started to set the table. As soon as you finished, Izuku came into the house, a tired expression painted on his face.

“You okay?” You say as you walk towards him.

“How rude of them to make me work on my own birthday?” he chuckled softly.

He looked to the dining table and his eyes lit up.

“Did you made Katsudon?” he asked, the tired expression he once had leaving his face.

“Yeah, I did,” you say as you help him take off his jacket.

“However,” you place his hands on his chest, “You need to go bathe.”

“What’s with everyone bullying me today?�� he huffed.

“Bullying or taking care of you?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” he trailed off.

“Just go bathe,” you say, chuckling as you push him towards your room.

“Oh no,” he said as you pushed him, “My feet can’t move.”

This grown kid.

“So I’m supposed to carry you bridal style now?” you joke.

“ I did it to you, didn’t I?” he whispers in your ear.

You felt blood rush to your cheeks the minute the sentence left his lips.

This man…

“Wow, my feet work now! I’ll go bathe,” he said as he kissed your cheek.

This man is too cute for his own good.

⁜

“This…” he said, mouth stuffed with food, “This is really good!”

You smile, looking at the green-haired male scarfing down the food you made. You loved the little sparkle he had in his eyes whenever he truly enjoyed something - and to your luck, it was the food you prepared for him.

“You seriously made this by yourself?” He asked with his eyebrow raised.

“You don’t see your mom here, do you?”

“You sure you didn’t order in?” He teased again.

You kicked his leg under the table, causing him to wince in pain.

“Oh, how you wound me,” he said, faking tears.

“Serves you right for making fun of me,” you huff.

He got off of his chair and headed to the sink to wash his bowl.

“Well, to be fair,” you add, “I did video call your mom so she could teach me.”

“So I was right, then,” he said as he places his bowl in the sink and turning to face you.

“She didn’t make it, though!”

“You said you made it all by yourself, but you got my mother’s help. Hence, you lied to me,” he put his arms on the countertop.

“I didn’t lie to you,” you say, laughing, “I really made it by myself.”

Izuku was already standing in front of you, cupping your face in his hands.

“You kicked me,” he stared at you, “You kicked a tired hero.”

“Heroes don’t tease others as much as you do,” you retort.

“What is my purpose in your life but to tease you?”

“A lot of things actually,” you say, smiling at him.

“Oh? Like what?”

“First of all,” you put your hand on his chest, “Where did this flirty Izuku come from?”

“Maybe,” he put his thumb on your lower lip, “He came because I am using my birthday privileges to be a little more flirty than usual.”

You stare at his green orbs. They glimmered even under his own shadow. Its golden flecks shined just for you and you alone. The creases of his eyes curved upwards, showing you how happy he was just to be in your presence. The wild forest he calls his hair had rogue strands that tickled your cheeks. You loved how soft they were - especially after him just washing it roughly an hour ago.

Your hand on his chest began to outline the scars he cultivated through his years under All Might’s wing and his hero training back in UA. You smiled as you remembered how strong-willed he was as a boy to become a hero, and now he was - standing on the very top.

“You okay?” he asked, worried.

“I was just thinking of how much you’ve grown from back then,” you look up to his face, meeting his eyes that were staring straight at you.

“For someone who took so many notes back then, you’re really dumb,” you both chuckle.

“How are you still bullying me?” he sighed.

“Endure it, Deku,” you joke, imitating Bakugou.

You close your eyes as you pressed your forehead against his, enjoying the small moment you’re sharing with the male in front of you.

“Happy birthday, Izuku.”

“Thank you, love.”

You both shared a kiss, both bellies and hearts full.

164 notes · View notes

a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Turns of Phrase

Prompt: I'd like you to consider: all the sides in the mindscape have the "way too literal" problem, like for example, Virgil actually grows taller when his anxiety is heightened, Patton actually grows wings when Thomas has a 'heart aflutter', e.c.t. But Roman just has a huge stack of negative ones. Creative block, bruised ego, shackled creativity, e.c.t. And then there's h/c when somebody (Logan) sees 👀👀

Thanks for the prompt babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues, Roman whump

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 5722

This is Roman’s fault. Really. It is. He’s the one who works the closest with the Imagination, which means he’s got control over how Thomas interacts with his own imagination, which means that he’s got control over how Thomas sees the Sides.

So yeah. This is his fault.

‘Heart all aflutter.’ ‘Heightened anxiety.’ ‘Liar, liar, pants on fire.’ All the little innocuous phrases that are just turns of phrase, not supposed to be literal, well…they got into Thomas’s head when he was younger, and since, the Imagination has never quite gotten rid of them. Shouldn’t be too bad, right, this should be something they can deal with.

And for the most part, they do.

Patton wears the hoodie tied around his shoulders to block the chill from the slits sewn in the back of all of his shirts in case the wings decide to pop out again. When they do, everyone crowds around to make sure he doesn’t fly off into the sky or accidentally twist one. The feathers are the softest things you can imagine and work great for stuffing pillows or plushies.

Virgil’s clothes are made of stretchy, baggy material and the doorways are much, much higher than they need to be. There’s a special cupboard tucked high up in the pantry that just has Virgil’s comfort foods in them so he can reach comfortably when he’s tall.

And, well…there’s a reason Janus wears such a long cloak.

For the most part, these are just minor inconveniences. Listen, when you live in a completely imaginary world where you can summon anything you need and change anything you don’t like with a snap of your fingers, things like new clothes or snacks are easy.

Then there’s Roman.

Roman, who is tied most closely to the Imagination.

Roman, who represents not just Creativity, but romance, motivation, desire.

Roman. The Ego.

The problem with throwing around these types of phrases is how easy it becomes to dismiss them. And for Thomas, who has a creative profession, that’s good. For Thomas.

Not so good for Roman.

“Hey, you’ve been having some trouble getting ideas out lately, you doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just going through a bit of a creative block at the moment.”

Roman’s fists ache as he pounds on the door, heaving sobs trailing off into hitched gasps as he slumps against the unyielding wood. As a desperate last resort, he throws himself at the door, barely making it shudder in its frame. It’s as if he weighs nothing, not an ounce, unable to make so much as a goddamn dent in the world around him.

“Let me—let me out, please, let me out, I gotta—I want out,” he sobs, over and over, as his room grows smaller and smaller, the walls pressing in around him, blank, sterile, cold, “I wanna—out, let me out, let me out, let me out please—“

He’s not even in his room anymore. He’s in a pure white cage, on the wrong side of a door that will not open.

“Dude, like…reign it in a little bit.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. That’s…like, way too much.”

“I dunno, I think it feels weird if we weren’t doing this.”

“C’mon, it won’t kill you to shackle your creativity a little.”

Roman wakes up to the quiet clinking of metal against metal. He goes to wipe his face and a bolt of pain shoots through his arm. The shackles spread him so far his chest aches, wincing as he tries to turn just a little to avoid the rush of agony that would come from having his arm trapped in the wrong position. At least he was lying down this time, and he’s on his bed. He isn’t being forced to stand the whole time, strung up on the ceiling.

They’re so cold.

The shackles sap the warmth from his body bit by bit, draining it until the weight of the cold pressing down onto his chest is enough to make him gasp. On instinct, he pulls, trying to get a little more of himself wrapped up, warm, safe, but the chains barely make a groan as they wrench him back apart. He grits his teeth and holds still.

He learned not to try and break these. He used to rage and slam against them like a brute, trying to pull their fastenings out of some mystical holder, embodied in his wall, only to come away with bleeding and scraped wrists from his pains, rubbed raw and chafed horribly by the cruel shackles.

For the most part, he’s able to keep the others from noticing. They can’t hear a thing when he’s trapped in the creative block. He’s careful to always wear long sleeves to hide the scrapes and burns from the shackles. They don’t know the true extent of what happens to him when Thomas decides he doesn’t want his creativity.

But he can’t hide all of them.

‘Bruised ego.’

Patton knows. Patton somehow always figures things out and doesn’t tell anyone, least of all Roman. But sure enough, after the audition, Patton showed up outside of Roman’s door and knocked, quietly asking to be let in.

Roman had let him, splattered as he was with blues and purples and greens and yellows, all the colors that didn’t belong to him, and yet here they were, painted on him. He’d kept his undershirt on, letting Patton feed him the soup that was sure to end with Roman lying on his back in the bathroom, panting, until the bowl had run dry and Roman’s smile had come back.

After Patton had gone, the smile had slid off, the paint cracked and chipped. Roman had stood, leaning against the bed for stability, and made his way slowly, oh, so, slowly, to the bathroom.

Getting his shirt off had been agony. Every time he moved skin had stretched, bruises had protested, even his muscles cried out. The undershirt was soaked in sweat and a light sheen had clung to Roman’s body as he stood there, panting, wincing in the mirror. He couldn’t look.

That had been the last time it had gotten very bad. Very bad.

They only ever seemed to notice when it was very bad.

His prince costume hides the shackle marks. His undershirt hid the bruises. No one cared to look for him when he was trapped in the creative block. No one could see. No one wanted to see.

No one knew.

Roman’s been lucky lately.

They’ve all been happening one at a time. The block never has shackles strapped to the wall. The shackles are never clasped around bruises spilling beneath his skin. The bruises are never from both beating on a door and from the outside world. He can deal with them if they’re like this. One at a time.

He’s had a few close calls, though. He almost missed a meeting with Logan because the block had him trapped. It squeezed him so tight it felt as if he hadn’t any room to breathe, not until the door and opened a crack and he’d hurled himself out, panting harshly, rushing to Logan’s. He was caught at his desk recently too. The shackles had formed and dragged him over to the corner where he’d bitten his lip to try and stay quiet as he desperately tried to draw himself away. He’d accidentally made too grand a gesture and his sleeve had ridden up, exposing the edge of a mark or bruise and he’d have to pull it back down quick enough so that no one would notice. And so far, it’s worked.

No one has noticed.

And what would he say? That this is just some dumb stupid thing he has to deal with? The others know about this whole ‘taking things too literally problem,’ look at Patton, look at Virgil, look at Janus. They all understand and they receive the same amount of attention Roman does. Honestly, they’ve been receiving what they’re entitled to. Their stuff actually runs the risk of harming Thomas. Fire, wings, banging your head, sure, that’s fine, but they—look.

Having your heart flutter signifies great emotions, the potential for love, you should pay attention to your emotions!

Heightened anxiety? It’s not great! It means we should be listening to Virgil and what’s going on, what’s upsetting Thomas, how to help.

And everyone should always be worried about spontaneously combusting pants.

And even if they did find out, what is Roman supposed to say? That it’s his fault they all have these issues? That Thomas’s psyche takes certain liberties with the hard-and-fast rules of what happens to metaphysical people? It’s his fault, after all, he’s the conduit. It’s fine. He can handle this stuff. It’s all fine.

He should’ve known his luck would run out.

Roman blinks awake to feel the walls pressing in on him, tighter, tighter, tighter. His breath catches in his throat.

No.

No, no, no, he’d been doing so well, so well, they’d just had a conversation about how he’d been so good, the ideas had been good, he’d had—he’d had so many he was ready to work on, he just needed to—

Roman squeezes his eyes shut, racking his brain. He knows he has ideas. He had them a little while ago. It wasn’t that long. They can’t have vanished so quickly. Wait, what time is it? How did they—how long has he been here? What is—how long has it been? Have the others realized he’s here yet?

What if they look for him and they think he won’t come out? What if they start to hate him because they can’t find him? What if he can never get out again? What if they realized they never needed him in the first place?

He—he’s not wrong, he can’t be wrong, he has to be right, he has to—he has to find a way out of here.

Quickly, Roman squeezes his eyes even tighter, mouth making random shapes as he tries to think. If he can just think of a really good idea, he’ll get out. If he just thinks, if he just does his job, if he’s really good he’ll get out. He can do this, he can do this, he can do this. He can—

Clink, clink, clink.

No.

No!

Roman snarls as the shackles encase his wrists, forcing to his knees, still crouched in this room that is too small, too pale, too awful. He lunges for the door as he hears the chains slowly start to tighten, their long lengths slipping over and over each other in coils.

The chains pull taut and he’s suspended there, in the dank air, snarling like a mad dog at a door that is just out of his reach.

For the first time in a long time, he slams against the chains, raging and bloody as he thrashes back and forth trying to just get to the door—

Roman, you’re on thin fucking ice.

Look I don’t wanna just hate a side but roman you royally fucked up bud

Yeah I’m definitely mad at Roman

Roman barely suppresses a whine when he realizes where the comments are coming from.

His nose breaks open and blood pours down his face. His eyes swell and darken until he can only squint through it. One of his fingers breaks and the shackle pinches.

Roman I have revoked your rights.

Roman shut the FUCK UP challenge please

After one line making fun of janus is enough to be cancelled, Roman

Even without looking down, he knows red and purple are blooming across his ribs. Roman winces pain as he howls again, trying frantically to get to the door, he’ll wrench his arms out of their sockets if he needs to—

I just hate roman!!! i don’t need a deep reason to hate roman, or anyone else

oh boi did Princey drop to least favorite side REAL FUCKING QUICK

It’s not that I don’t despise Roman he’s just never been my favourite. He’s too prideful, rude and while he does have his insecurities the way he hides them makes me uncomfortable since it’s at the expense of other characters. His treatment of the other sides is so awful.

…is he really that awful? Is…does he…is this…

Is this how it’s supposed to be?

I'm gonna spread my anti-roman doctrine. Fuck Roman. Hate that man

I genuinely hate Roman so. Fucking. Much. Like, can't stand him. Fuck him, I hate him

It’s always roman-hating hours.

A dry sob chokes its way out of Roman’s throat as he curls in on himself, another bruise leaving him gasping on the floor like a gutted fish. The chains let him fall to his knees, chest bared to the merciless door. He coughs. Blood flies out of his mouth and spittle drips down his chin. He coughs again. And again. And again. It hurts. Everything hurts.

He coughs.

The room presses in on him.

The shackles trap him.

Bruises bloom over his body.

He coughs.

This is all his fault, isn’t it? He’s the one in charge of the Imagination. He’s the one who makes sure the sides exist and can interact with Thomas. He’s the one who controls how they respond to turns of phrase.

He’s the one who’s awful to the others. He’s the one who didn’t tell them the truth. He’s the one stuck in this room, in these chains, taking a beating from words and thoughts that he can’t see.

This is his fault.

And he doesn’t know if he can fix it.

Roman gives up.

———————————————————

“Has anyone seen Roman?”

Patton looks up from the floor as Virgil rolls over. “No, I haven’t. Virgil?”

Virgil sniffs and shakes his head. “You asked Remus?”

Logan frowns. “I can’t find them anywhere. Do you know if—“

“Where the fuck is my brother?”

“Nevermind, I found him,” Logan mumbles as he turns just fast enough to avoid Remus barreling into him. “I was just coming to ask you.”

“He was supposed to meet me by the Imagination,” Remus says, bouncing up and down, “we were gonna go exploring. He hasn’t been by all day. Where are you hiding him?”

“I’m not hiding him,” Virgil yawns, “and neither’s Pat.”

“Nope! No princes here!”

“Pocket Protector?”

“No, I need to ask him about tomorrow.”

“Ugh.” Remus throws himself down on the couch. “Where’s Snakey? Maybe he knows.”

“What do I know?”

“Ah.” Logan turns to see Janus striding out from the shadows near the staircase. “We seem to be unable to locate Roman.”

Janus raises an eyebrow and flicks a speck of dust from his gloves. “What an unfortunate situation. My deepest apologies.”

“So you don’t know where he is.”

“Of course I don’t, why would I?” Janus rolls his eyes. “It’s not like you’ve checked everywhere for him.”

Logan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Janus…please.”

“Have any of you even tried his room?”

“Of course we have, that’s where I looked first.”

Janus shrugs. “Then I guess our little prince has wandered away. What a shame.”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Maybe he just stepped out for a minute. Why don’t you go look again, L, we’ll check down here.”

“Oh, will we?”

“J, I swear—“

Logan quickly heads back up the stairs as Virgil and Janus start bickering. He turns the corner and is soon faced with Roman’s big red door. He reaches out to knock.

“Roman? Are you in here?”

Silence. Logan sighs and goes to turn away when he hears it.

He stops.

Goes back.

“Roman?”

He puts his ear to the door.

A soft gasp.

“Roman, can you open the door please?”

“L-L—Lo—“

Logan swallows heavily. “Roman, I’m coming inside.”

“L-Logan…”

Logan pushes open the door.

He can feel his face go sickly pale.

Roman is lying on the ground, collapsed in a pool of what looks like blood. His face is swollen, his nose broken, his mouth barely forming the shapes to say Logan’s name. His prince costume is mangled. His wrists are rubbed raw. Even from this far away Logan can see the bruises forming all over his body.

“Roman!”

There are shouts from downstairs. The others are worried. Good. Logan’s going to need all the help he can get. He just has to move first.

Oh, Roman…

“L? L, what’s going on up there?”

“First aid,” Logan gasps, then clears his throat, “we need the first aid kit! Roman’s hurt!”

“What? How’d he—he hasn’t even been in the Imagination yet today!”

“We can figure that out when we’re up there, Remus, go go go!”

By the time the others are already rushing up the stairs, Logan has already crouched down next to Roman’s head, trying to figure out the best way to get him up, off the floor, or at the very least figure out what happened.

“Stay with me, Roman,” he murmurs, petting Roman’s head as his other hand starts to carefully test where it might be hurting, “stay with me, come on…”

“Lo? Lo, are you in here?”

“No, wait, don’t—“

Patton’s cry of dismay quickly followed by Virgil’s curse means he’s too late to warn them. Logan looks up to see their faces drop in absolute shock.

“Where are the others?”

“Uh…” Virgil tears his gaze away from Roman’s crumpled figure. “Remus said he…he has some stuff that would help.”

“And I am of course more than eager to see what our favorite little prince has gotten himself into this time,” Janus drawls, still out of sight, “I’m positively brimming with anticipation.”

Patton still hasn’t recovered. Virgil carefully takes the first aid kit from his hands and rushes it to Logan. An instant later, Janus appears in the doorway.

“My, my, Patton, you look so startled, what could possibly…”

Janus trails off as he finally spots Roman. His eyes widen as he takes in the bruises, the blood, the marks of what look like prison cuffs?

“Oh, god…” Logan blinks and Janus is crouched beside them, his hands hovering over Roman’s broken form as he starts crooning to the prince.

“Oh, honey, what happened to you,” he murmurs, his hands starting to pull away the fabric cutting into Roman’s throat, “you poor, poor thing…”

“Got it.”

Remus appears in a flash, crouching down as well as Janus and Logan start to help Roman unwind from the bloody mess he’s in. Logan glances over; it’s a kit that has more medical supplies than the first aid kit. Bandages, he can see antiseptic, surgical towels…

He catches Remus’s eye and they exchange a nod.

“Where does he need to go,” Janus asks as they start to get Roman upright, “you want him downstairs?”

“Let’s get him to our bathroom, J,” Virgil suggests, carefully getting his arms around the prince’s shoulders.

“Do you think it’s safe to sink with him?”

“Presumably he had to sink out to get back to his room, but I’m not sure it would be wise.”

“So we’ll carry him,” Virgil says firmly, “all of us.”

As it turns out, Remus and Janus can help Virgil just fine. Logan snatches up Remus’s kit as Patton grabs the first aid kit, hustling down the corridor to keep up with the others.

“Lo, what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Logan mutters back, “but I…I don’t think it was…the Imagination’s been closed all day, hasn’t it?”

“That’s what I thought too. You don’t think—“

“I don’t know, Patton, I…”

Patton’s firm grip on his arm speaks volumes as they finally get to the bathroom.

The tile is already warm as the others carefully lay Roman down in the big place near the edge of the shower. Logan takes a moment to check what they might need.

The bathroom is one big open space with a tub in one corner, a large walk-in shower area at the other, and two sinks with a wide counter. Patton and Remus have already started setting up the first aid kit as Janus pulls on a different pair of gloves. Virgil still has Roman’s head in his hands, murmuring softly to him.

“Is he awake?”

Virgil shakes his head as Logan sits down. “I can’t tell. He’s looking around but I—he’s not saying anything.”

“That is not completely unexpected,” Logan murmurs, “we have to get him out of his clothes. They’re making it harder for him to breathe.”

“Someone needs to stay by his head,” Remus calls, “in case he wakes up and starts freaking out.”

“I’ve got him.” Sure enough, Janus slips two of his hands gently under Roman’s head as he unclips the back of his collar. “Shh, shh, easy, sweetie, you’re safe now.”

Virgil scoots back and starts tugging on his hoodie strings. Patton, still hovering by the medical supplies, catches it.

“Hey, Virge,” he says, shooting a quick nod at Logan, “why don’t we go make something to eat? Something small, and something to drink.”

“Yeah…yeah that’s a good idea.”

As the two of them leave, Remus kneels by Roman’s feet and curses. “We’re gonna have to cut them off.”

“You mean cut the rest of them off,” Janus mutters, “what happened?”

“You think I’m not beating myself up asking that same thing?”

“We have to get Roman stable,” Logan says quickly, “and that means we have to see what—“

“The damage is,” Remus growls.

“Quite.”

“Alright. Be careful by his wrists.”

“We will.”

“Jan if you drop his head I swear to—“

“I won’t, I promise.”

“…I know.”

“You’re worried about your brother,” Logan whispers as they start peeling the clothes away, “we understand.”

Janus keeps his promise, cradling Roman’s head as the work to get the rest of his prince costume off. Under any other circumstance, Logan admits this might actually be read as amusing. Peeling Roman out of his clothes, however, has never been less devastating.

Every inch they pull back reveals more bruises. Roman’s torso is warm, throbbing, carpeted with horrible wounds. Every so often a piece will stick and Roman winces, prompting Janus to stroke his face carefully, murmuring reassurances that they’re here, everything’s okay, Roman’s safe now.

Remus chucks bruise cream at Logan and they start, methodically applying the cream and bandages. Janus gives them an extra hand where they need it, while keeping up the constant litany of reassurances. Logan comes away confident that nothing is broken, just very badly bruised.

“So what now?”

“He has to rest.” Logan pulls off the gloves, running his hand over the ground to make sure they haven’t spilled anything. “I…I don’t know how long that will be.”

“I don’t want to leave him.”

They look around, eyes wide at the strangled whisper coming out of Remus. Remus stares down at Roman’s bruised form, thankfully clear of blood now, his hands trembling as they rest on his knees. Remus looks up at them, his eyes glistening.

“The last time I left him like this it was bad.” He swallows and looks back down. “I’m not leaving my brother.”

Logan looks at Roman. Brave, strong, sweet, kind Roman. Bruised, scared, exhausted, broken Roman. His hand tightens and without thinking he tucks a stray hair behind Roman’s ear.

“He hates it when his hair is out of place,” he murmurs as Janus raises an eyebrow at him.

“We’re not leaving our prince,” Janus says firmly, glancing back at Remus. “Would you like to come sit up here with us?”

Remus shakes his head. “If something comes through that door trying to get him,” he says in a low voice that Logan has never heard before, “it’s going to have to get through me first.”

Logan nods. They take up their watch. Remus’s hands twitch every so often, and Logan sees him lay his hand on an unbruised part of Roman’s ankle when they do with a tenderness that takes him a little aback. Janus can’t seem to stop running his hands through Roman’s hair, making comforting noises every time Roman winces as he breathes.

Logan, well…Logan is trying desperately to figure out what happened.

Roman hasn’t been in the Imagination today. Remus was waiting and he hadn’t seen him.

Roman hasn’t been seen by anyone else all day.

The last place Roman was seen was in his room.

No one else has been in Roman’s room today.

“Logan,” Janus calls softly, “Logan, you’re shaking.”

Logan looks down. Oh. So he is. He takes a deep breath and takes Janus’s offered hand. “I’m…thinking.”

“About…?” Janus indicates Roman.

He nods sharply. “I’m having trouble coming to anything but a most troubling conclusion.”

“What?”

Logan explains. Janus goes pale.

“You don’t think…”

“I don’t want to think that, no.”

“R-ro-Bro,” Remus whispers, “oh, Ro-Bro, you gotta tell us something when you wake up.”

He sniffles.

“Please wake up, Ro-Bro. I gotta…I gotta kick your ass for blowing me off and getting into a fight without me, I gotta—you gotta tell me what kicked your ass so I can go put it in the fucking ground…” He sniffs again, his whole body tense, even as his hand remains gently on Roman. “You just gotta wake up, Ro.”

After a little while longer, Virgil and Patton return carrying snacks and drinks. Remus doesn’t even look as Virgil sets his octopus water bottle at his elbow. Janus murmurs a thanks and eats a little. Logan eats and drains about half of his bottle. Virgil sits at Remus’s side, Patton at his other.

“Has he woken up yet?”

Remus shakes his head.

“He’s probably just sleeping, Remus, he needs to rest.”

“I know.”

“Do we know what happened,” Virgil asks quietly, “at all?”

Logan winces. “Well…”

“…don’t like the way you said that.” Judging by Virgil’s expression, he likes it even less after Logan’s finished explaining.

“Oh, shit.”

Everyone’s gaze instantly snaps to Patton. Listen. Patton doesn’t curse. It’s a thing. When Patton curses it’s bad.

“Patton?”

“Roman…Roman has a thing,” Patton explains, “you know like…like my wings? Or how Virgil gets taller?”

Virgil nods. “Yeah, okay, but those don’t…hurt us, why would Roman’s…”

Janus is the next one to curse. “Of course…the bruised ego.”

Patton nods sadly. “Roman takes, well, it’s not really his choice, Roman is forced to take the brunt of the negative reactions Thomas has. That’s part of his thing.”

Logan’s eyes widen. “Wait, but if this has been happening since…well, since Thomas has had an ego, and we didn’t know about this, then…”

How many times has this happened?

Remus growls. “New rule: no one is allowed to fuck with Roman.”

No one dares disagree. Logan scans over the injuries again. He frowns.

“Hold on…some of these seem…consistent with that judgment, but then why…”

A faint groaning sound snaps him out of his musings. A tense silence falls in the bathroom as Roman starts to stir in Janus’s hands.

“Roman,” Logan calls softly, “Roman, can you hear me?”

“L’gan?”

“Yes, Roman, I’m right here. Don’t try and move too much right now, you’re very hurt.”

Roman blinks up at them, his eyes focusing glassily on Janus, who smiles. He tucks another piece of hair away from Roman’s face.

“Shh, shh, my prince, hold still,” he coos, “you’re awfully banged up, sweetie, just hold still…shh…”

“J’nus? What’s…where is…” Roman’s face swivels back to Logan. “Where am I?”

“You’re on the bathroom floor, Roman, we had to see to your injuries.”

Roman’s eyes go wide and immediately all of them reach out to hold him still as he tries to move.

“Shh, shh,” Janus shushes, “none of that now, sweetie, you’re hurt, calm down…”

“I’m—I have to—“

“You’re not going anywhere,” comes Remus’s voice from behind them.

“Remus!”

“What? He’s not!”

“Yeah, but there’s no reason to scare the shit out of him.”

“I can’t see,” Logan hears Roman’s frantic whisper as he turns to glance at the others, “I can’t—let me—“

“Logan, is it safe for him to sit up?”

Logan nods. “Just take it slow, nothing too fast. It will probably be the best if he can lean against someone.”

“Jan—“

“I’ve got you, sweetie, I’m not going anywhere.”

When Roman is upright, his back against Janus’s chest, only then do Virgil and Patton relax the slightest bit. Remus doesn’t. Logan’s gaze switches anxiously between the two.

“Remus—“ Roman swallows— “Re, are you—are you mad at me?”

“A little.”

Roman shrinks under Remus’s glare. “I’m sorry.”

“Jeez, Ro, it’s not—I’m not mad at you like that,” Remus mumbles, “it’s mainly just—well, our thing is…you know, cat pile.”

“You’re—you’re mad because you can’t lie on top of me right now?”

“Yeah! It always makes you feel better! And now I can’t help you feel better!”

“R-Re—“

Remus lets out a wounded noise and surges forward, careful to avoid barreling into any of the others as he wraps his brother in a protective hug. Janus huffs lightly but stays upright. Roman’s eyes close and his head drops to rest against Remus’s.

“I’m the only one allowed to fuck with you,” comes Remus’s muffled voice, “no one else.”

“I know,” Roman whispers, “I know.”

Logan swallows heavily. “Roman,” he prompts softly, “we aren’t mad at you. We won’t get angry with you.”

“...promise?”

“I promise.”

“Promise.

Janus just squeezes Roman’s shoulder gently. “I promise too, sweetie. Now, will you tell us what happened?”

“I, um…” Roman’s gaze flickers over to Patton. “Have you—um…”

“I’ve told them a little, sweetheart,” Patton says when Roman can’t finish his sentence, “we’ve figured out the ‘bruised ego,’ is there anything else you’d like to tell us?”

Roman nods. He turns his head back towards Remus, his face contorted. Logan carefully reaches out to ruffle his hair.

“Take your time,” he whispers, “we’re not going anywhere.”

“I have three,” Roman blurts out after a moment.

“…three, honey?”

“Patton has…the wings, Virgil has the height, Janus…Janus…”

“Has the pants.”

Janus lightly flicks Remus’s head, shaking his head fondly.

“Are you saying you’ve got three turns of phrase, Princey?” Roman nods. “Okay. Is one of them ‘bruised ego?’”

“Mhmm.”

“Okay. Are you comfortable telling us the other two?”

Goosebumps rise on Roman’s arms and Janus carefully positions them so Logan can help rub them away. Remus growls protectively and huddles closer.

“…creative block,” Roman murmurs, only for Remus to tense. Remus raises his head slowly.

“Ro-Bro?”

“I, um, my room—my room shrinks and I—I can’t get out the door, I can’t move anything, I can’t breathe, I—“

“Shh-shh-shh,” Janus soothes instantly, “you’re safe, my prince, you’re in the bathroom with us, you’re not there, you’re not there.”

There are a few tense seconds of deep breaths.

“…what’s the third one, Roman?”

Roman looks at his wrists, turning them over as if he doesn’t recognize them. “…shackled creativity.”

Patton clenches his fists as Virgil muffles another curse. Remus follows Roman’s gaze, the line of his shoulders growing tenser by the second. Janus carefully laces his fingers through one of Roman’s hands, Logan lacing his through the other.

“Thank you for telling us, Roman,” he murmurs, “and…I do not know how much this is worth to you, but…we are so sorry this happens and that we could not do anything about it.”

“It’s okay,” Roman murmurs, “it’s my own fault.”

The bathroom falls silent.

“…Roman, it’s not your fault.” Virgil scoots closer. “How—this isn’t your fault.”

“Isn’t it? I’m the one that’s the closest to the Imagination,” Roman says softly, completely convinced of what he’s saying, “I’m the one that makes it possible for Thomas to see us…the Sides, the Imagination…isn’t that my job?”

“Not like that,” Logan says firmly, “never like this.”

“Logan’s right,” Virgil says when it looks like Roman’s about to argue, “you’re the conduit for the Imagination, but you’re not responsible for everything that this place does, let alone how Thomas interprets and internalizes stuff.”

“None of this is you, Roman.” Janus rests his cheek against the top of Roman’s head. “None of it. It’s not Patton’s fault he grows wings, it’s not Virgil’s fault he grows taller, and it’s not your fault that this happens to you.”

“You’re missing someone off the list there, Jan-Jan.”

“Remus, I swear to god—“

Remus cackles, throwing his head back as Janus swats at him. Of course, the problem is that they all try and look mildly annoyed at Remus, and yet the instant it makes Roman giggle, even a little, they all have to break character because Roman’s smiling again.

“Seriously, Ro-Bro,” Remus says after a moment, “this isn’t on you. You don’t deserve this or some other fucked-up shit. This is fucked up all on its own. You’re not responsible for this.”

“We’ll talk to Thomas,” Logan says, “about…negative feedback and internalizing things, alright? This isn’t healthy, Roman, it’s not—it’s not supposed to be like this, and it’s definitely not your fault.”

“…okay.”

“Can you say that for me, sweetie,” Janus coaxes, reaching around to cup Roman’s face, “that it’s not your fault?”

“I-it’s not—“

Roman stops. Swallows heavily.

“Go on, my prince, you can do it.”

“…I-it’s not my fault.”

“Good.”

“It isn’t my fault.” Roman’s eyes go wide and something hitches in his throat. “It is—isn’t—I—oh, god—“

They catch Roman as he starts to cry.

“You did so well, sweetheart, so well, I’m so proud of you.”

“It’s okay, Princey, it’s gonna be okay.”

“I’ve got you, my prince, I have you.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Ro-Bro, I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

“You don’t have to do this alone, Roman.”

Roman rests there, in the arms of his family, bruised and exhausted, but not broken.

Not anymore.

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