#realistically he should be d word

[keferon]

Chapter 2 of Blurr storyline >:D

“Actually” says Swerve ”I'm an alien.”

“Heh” giggles Blurr ”sorry, my head is all cloudy, I thought you said you were an alien.”

Part one

Holy shit I actually managed to finish it…..Oh. My god.

Under the cut⤵️

Is it stupid to miss someone who doesn't even exist?

Probably yes, but hey, Swerve already has several degrees, might as well get another one. A degree in Stupidity or something. Who cares?

For the first few days after waking up from his coma, he feels like he's going crazy. Everybody has realistic dreams, right? The ones where you can scrutinize every angle, memorize every face and smell and sound. The ones that make you lie still for a while after waking up, grasping at every thing you can. Trying to memorize everyone you meet, imprint them in your head.

Because apart from your mind, they don't exist anywhere else. So that's your only way to keep them.

It never works. Obviously. Details slip away. Impressions fade. Just a couple days, and you won't be able to recall anything but the main events from memory.

Wait, hell, not days. Cycles.

His life is a weird, pathetic, fantastical circus. Earth term. Heh. There are no circuses on Cybertron, haha!

But Swerve remembers. And the word circus, and the smell of asphalt, and rains that were made of water not acid. Remembers the English language. Can speak it fluently, even if you wake him up in the middle of the night.

Remembers his work schedule and remembers which company makes the best details. And Tailgate with his bright blue uniform and Wheeljack with his endless experiments and Swindle with his expensive coat and of course...yeah, no, don't think of Blurr, don't think of Blurr, don't. Don't.

He'd heard about it. Read about it, too. Mechs waking up from comas and doing wild things. Some forgot how to speak at all, some gained a new skill, some lived a whole life while they slept.

Articles tell Swerve, don't worry, what you've experienced isn't unique. The doctor tells Swerve that the same thing has happened to others before you, it will be okay, it will pass.

Swerve isn't sure he wants it to pass.

He's been in a coma for who knows how long. The medic said it was caused by an internal trauma that decided to suddenly get worse. One minute he's recharging , the next he's gone. Internal injuries are insidious.

So it turns out. One day he just disappeared from the world because he was busy slowly dying in his room and no one noticed until a thief tried to sneak in. The only one who came to him was a Mech who wanted to steal his stuff. Huh.

That feels revolting. Swerve liked to think he had enough friends. Or at least enough good connections. Enough those who should have noticed his absence, right?

Apparently not. His shifts at work were reassigned, his contacts never texted him first, his...

His small persona wasn't important enough for anyone to notice his disappearance.

Would his human coworkers notice? Would Tailgate have noticed? Or Jazz? Swindle?

Jazz would have noticed, he was always surprisingly attentive when it came to his friends. And he was friends with just about everybody.

Swindle would probably get upset about the money he'd lost.

It's amazing how much his brain-- wait, no, his processor. How much his processor could create to entertain him. It's a more elaborate world than the most complex series Swerve has ever known. And that scrap had forty-six seasons and fifteen encyclopedias!

People, Earth, a bunch of new languages and rules and all for the sake of the end being like, OOPS! ...it was all a dream. Hilarious. Worst plot twist ever. Swerve hates it when stories go in this direction even more than when they kill off their characters.

In his humble opinion, death is better than the revelation that none of the experiences made sense or had any value. In terms of writing scripts obviously. Haha.

He's busy roaming haphazardly through his own memory. He's looking, comparing, trying to find inconsistencies or things that don't make sense. All the stuff that usually gives away the fact that what happened was a dream.

Most of his memories are occupied by--No. Frag.

Don't think about Blurr, don't think about Blurr, don't think..

He's thinking about Blurr. A lot.

Blurr occupies a surprisingly important role in his comatose dreams.

In the time he spent just looking at him, you could hand-build an entire Mech. Maybe even three. Swerve remembers picking up every bit of merch he could reach with his paycheck. Watching hundreds of videos and buying every new themed drink even if it was a flavor he didn't like.

Then spent a surprising amount of time resenting Blurr for not living up to his fantasies.

Blurr's behavior hadn't helped either, of course, but now, looking back at the past himself Swerve thinks that.. Oh wow. You weren't just annoyed at him. You blamed him for ruining your beautiful fantasy. You were having so much fun entertaining yourself with thoughts of this marvelous image, and he came along and corrupted it. Poisoned the well you drank joy from.

But that's not quite true, Swerve thinks.

Blurr was more complicated than that. But exactly how, he'll never know. All he has are his memories, and those memories are cut short at the most interesting point.

Swerve knows this plot twist. The asshole character that no one loves at the last second turns out to not be what everyone thought, but it's too late.

Oh no, he's not an evil jerk, he's actually traumatized. Oh no, he wasn't bad, he was actually secretly helping everyone. You thought he was awful? Well now you're going to feel awful reading fanfics.

Serevus Spayne didn't actually betray the main character's dad, no no, he was in love with him! Bam. Drama.

Swerve isn't a big fan of this stuff. He likes his characters developed properly. But he can't deny the appeal of a character leaving behind a bunch of questions you thought you knew the answer to.

Uggh.

The doctor was wrong. These thoughts don't go away. These memories don't dull.

Swerve just boils in them, constantly getting stuck in his own head. Sometimes he puts English words into his speech and everyone looks at him strangely. Sometimes he reflexively says some inside joke and no one gets it and he's left standing there with an awkward smile. Because. Guys, you don't understand, if my coworkers were here they'd think it's hilarious. I promise, in my fantasy world, it's funny.

When he gets a job on one of the Autobot ships, he accepts it thinking it might be a good distraction from his thoughts.

When he happens to see Prowl with a tiny human on his shoulder in the corridor of that ship, he thinks he's lost his mind.

The whole thing. The whole load-bearing structure on which his picture of the world has been held suddenly gives a lurch. Living your life in a super realistic dream is wild, but meeting a character from your dream in real life??

Freaking cursed.

Jazz looks puzzled by his reaction, but all Swerve can think about are two things.

One, if Jazz is here, does that mean everything else was real, too???

Two - holy shit, Jazz is tiny.

It never occurred to him. But he didn't really know what size humans were. Well, sure, he could measure it in numbers. But he was among humans himself. And about the same size. He was generally even shorter than most of them.

If Jazz is so small, he can't imagine how tiny Tailgate would be. Or--

He can feel his spark freeze. In fact, he can almost hear the sound of a string breaking in his processor. Does that mean Blurr is real too? Real and just as tiny and currently dead? Because Swerve was there but was too convinced it was all just a dream to help?

He's going to get sick.

He needs to talk to Jazz right now.

____________

Swerve taps his fingers nervously on the countertop. Come on. You're good at talking. Talking is your greatest skill. All you have to do is tell someone else about your comatose hallucinations and hope they don't think you're crazy.

They're sitting at a table at the bar. More specifically Swerve and Prowl are sitting at the table, and Jazz is sitting right on the table. (God he's so small).

“So uh. I got injured a while back and...uh...well, it got worse, turned out important systems were affected and I kind of. I was in a coma. For a really long time.”

Jazz frowns

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

He speaks in a mildly wonky Common, Swerve notes to himself. He waves his servo a little too cheerfully in response.

“'Ay it's no big deal really. I saw a whole other world while I was asleep and like. See, I thought it was just my fantasies, but it seemed very real and...”

Swerve mentally crosses his fingers.

“And it was about this planet called Earth and about people who were building their own inanimate huge robots to fight huge aliens and their boss wanted to launch Mechs into space, so he picked the best of the pilots named Jazz and sent him on this test mission and...”

Jazz looks at him with huge eyes before switching to English in surprise.

“Mech, what the hell?”

“...And we lost him...” finishes Swerve with a sad smile.

Before thinking for a bit, and adding.

“I'm going to show you a trick I can do.”

And then projects his holoform onto the table in front of him.

This. It's weird. Not in a way that would tilt it in the direction of unnatural. More like walking around in his comfy indoor pajamas right in the middle of the street. Being human is familiar to him, but being human amongst huge Cybertronians? Strange. And a little creepy.

Prowl looks confused.

Jazz looks absolutely frantic.

“SWERVE????”

Swerve doesn't even manage to respond, only to smile in relief before Jazz rakes him into his arms. In his holoform, Jazz feels right again. He's taller than Swerve and oh boy, he's alive and unharmed. To think everyone thought he was dead, staying up nights trying to find what was left of him, and he was on the other side of the universe the whole time?

Swerve chuckles into Jazz's shoulder. Then picks him up and spins him around a couple times just because he needs something to get his energy out. Man, it's nice to hug people. Warm and soft, eight out of ten.

Jazz pulls away but still stays standing very close. Swerve can literally see the happy stars in his eyes.

“Dude, I'm not complaining but what...how???? You just kinda..."

Swerve laughs and twitches his eyebrows playfully.

“I still speak English, you don't have to torture yourself with Common.”

“Oh thank fuck.” Jazz throws his hands up dramatically “you're my favorite person right now.”

There is a polite click of the vocalizer resetting above their heads.

“I” Prowl says “very glad you two are happy but I'd like some explanation”

Swerve presses his head into his shoulders guiltily. Prowl has the unique ability to always sound like you've done something wrong in front of him.

Although Jazz doesn't seem to feel the same way?

“Short version - I sleepwalked my holoform to another planet.”

He pauses dramatically.

“The long version is...”

Jazz raises his hand

“What's a holoform?”

Swerve sighs.

“It's a holographic avatar that I can project using a holomatter generator. Sort of like a remote controlled game character.”

Jazz whistles impressed. And then immediately turns back to Prowl

“Have you been able to do that all this time too?“

Prowl hums

“I can create an avatar, but it takes a lot of practice to make it at least believable. And to fully perceive the world through it takes even more. It's a whole new technology. What Swerve does is essentially an art form. Sophisticated and impressively detailed may I add.”

Swerve shrugs shyly. He's still using the holoform to stand on the table next to Jazz. Looking up to speak to Prowl isn't exactly comfortable, but Jazz definitely looks like he's been missing the human presence. Swerve isn't human, but he might as well be.

“Thank you. Yes! Uh. Anyway, it seems while I was in a coma my processor projected my avatar onto Earth and I...let's just say I lived there for a while.”

Jazz laughs

“Dude. So you're telling me you were basically sleepwalking the whole time?”

“ I was.”

Prowl frowns.

“But the range limit of the holomatter generator is only four hundred miles...”

“.... I had a lot of practice...”

Jazz claps his hands.

“You learned a whole other language! Got an ID!. You had a job!!!”

“I got carried away,” Swerve admits.

Jazz scratches the back of his head, still looking very amused

“How many degrees did you get? Haha wait no, I have a better question, did you pass your driver's license?”

“Two. And I failed my driver's exam.”

“Dude you are literally a car without a driver's license!” collapses Jazz on the table with laughter.

Swerve blows the hair out of his face

“Says you who retook the physical several times. You couldn't pass the "being human" exam.”

Jazz just wheezes incoherently in response. Prowl looks alarmed.

“Don't worry, that's him getting excited. So...where have I been...”

Swerve nervously shoves his hands into his pockets

“...Do either of you two know where Earth is?”

Prowl twitches his door wings

“No. Since Jazz was teleported we don't have much clues.”

Swerve grimaces. Scrap. Of course nothing's going to be that easy. He's also been, like,....teleported.

He stands there for a couple minutes and just feels fifteen different emotions rise up in his head at once. A crooked, unsteady smile creeps across his face.

He's thinking.

Oh hell, yeah! I knew it wasn't a dream!

Then he remembers the mess he left behind.

Oh, no, it wasn't a dream.

Jazz puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Swer... Swerve? Dude, are you okay?”

“Ah frag..” Swerve says weakly ”it wasn't a dream.”

Jazz looks...puzzled.

“Is that bad?”

Swerve remembers his friends. Remembers the Mecha program. Remembers fire and smoke and screams and rumbling and crackling flames. Ashes flying through the air and the smell of burnt wires. He remembers blood and debris and...

“It's...complicated.”

This wasn't just a stupid plot twist he'd dreamed up because he'd watched too many shows. This wasn't a hallucination or a disembodied fantasy that just happened to linger in his head. This was real. His friends exist out there somewhere. His work and his collections and his little apartment...

And Blurr. Was real. Or still is? Swerve doesn't know. Blurr wasn't a product of his imagination. He was real and what he did was real and Swerve left him there alone, bleeding and trapped in rubble and tiny and...

Hahahahah oh fUCK.

He doesn't like this plot. It's too much. Too much to handle, too complicated, too ambiguous.

It's also probably too late.

But he can't leave it like this, right? Blurr went into the damn burning building just because of the possibility that there might be someone alive in there.

And Swerve doesn't even have to go through the flames. He has to look. He has to try at least.

Jazz glares at him with a worried look on his face

“ That expression you have...”

Swerve puts the smile back on his face.

“I need to get to Earth.”

___________________

Swerve is not an idiot.

Or maybe more accurately an idiot, but with several degrees.

He's well aware that finding Earth in space with only a description of it is impossible. Which leaves him with two options.

Ask the Quintessons. Or look for it himself.

The first sounds like death. The second like coma. Swerve has exquisite enough taste to know which is better.

He just needs to do some preliminary reserch.....

Jazz, now back inside his Mech looks doubtful.

“You're not going to die suddenly and for no reason, are you?”

Swerve laughs.

“Pfffff what, no of course not, would I kill myself hah. No no, look I'll just put myself in stasis for a bit. Send myself to Earth. And try to figure out where it is from there. Get the coordinates. If I'm lucky, I can see what Space Bridge the local Quintessons use. All you'll have to do is wake me up after a while.”

“It's not harmful?”

Swerve makes an uncertain gesture with his hand...servo.

“If I have enough fuel. And an additional connection to an external generator.”

Jazz tilts his head

“ Why are you so eager to get to Earth? Don't get me wrong, I miss it too and want to go back, but.”

Swerve bites his knuckles.

“ I have some unfinished business?”

“Pshhhh you sound like a ghost.”

Swerve only laughs in response.

_______________

Concentration is tricky.

Swerve tries to think about Earth. And not to think about the fact that he doesn't know where it is. If he's already been there once, he might as well go there again yes? In theory? Perhaps?

Except for the possibility that his sleepwalking just takes him to random planets. That would be very inconvenient. It would be a whole new level of lost

Shit. No. Earth. Think Earth.

What's he even gonna do when he gets there? How far away is it? Swerve is very talented with his holomatter generator, but if it's really far away... maybe he should reset some settings.

He mentally starts going through his options. Does he need tangibility? Probably not. Come to think of it, it would only make him more vulnerable and take a lot of energy. Yeah, the tangibility has to go. What else? Touch, too. Sight and hearing should stay, that's not even a question, but colors and textures are not really necessary.

The amount of detail and picture quality can be reduced as well. His holoform will become colorless and grainy and will probably ripple with static, but he'll survive it.

After he finishes making changes to his holoform he thinks about his old stuff left in his house. Then about the posters. Then reminds himself that he needs to focus on the goal or he'll never find Blurr and...oh FUCK his phone! Where was his phone when he disappeared? Was it found?? There were so many personal things on that phone, he's hoping the phone was burned under the rubble. Either that or the arriving investigators will find his browser history and he'll go into another coma from pure embarrassment.

He blinks dazedly when he realizes he has loads of rocks in front of his eyes. Oh..Did he screw up? Did he end up on the wrong planet? Is it a cave or--

Then he notices the odd shape of the “rocks” and. Oh, no. It's not a cave. It's charred concrete debris.

This is the place where he was last.

He hastily looks around. Anxiety creeps up the back of his neck, makes him feel like something slippery and cold is crawling over his skin. There is nothing but ruins all around.

Blurr is not here. The place where his Mech was lying is empty.

Which means he was at least found and dragged out. Dead or alive.

Swerve's bites his knuckles. Okay.

All right.

He's got things to do.

_______________

He's trying to stay out of sight. Which isn't hard, considering he's just a hologram. At first, he just sneaks around in the quiet areas. Then proceeds to do a facepalm and start teleporting. Think, Swerve. Did you read all those comic books for nothing? Superheroes who couldn't really use their superpowers creatively always annoyed him. And he does, in fact, have a superpower. Gotta get creative, right?

He stops and looks at himself again. His holoform is going static and is a dull white color. He thinks for a bit, and then shrinks himself. Thinks some more, and makes himself almost transparent. There's no way he could pass as a normal human right now, so he'd better just do his best to avoid being seen by anyone.

He looks around thoughtfully. Hmm. Even if he's going to be absolutely tiny, he needs to make sure no one sees him, otherwise the whole base will think the Quintessons are now spying on them through holograms or something.

Breaking the rules feels...it's exciting.

All his ..human life here he hadn't thought about it, but if he threw away the rules he was used to about what people could or couldn't do...

He looks up in a sudden rush of sly genius. All people look under their feet when they walk, but how many look up? And how many of them notice the barely visible tiny holoform hiding just behind the blinding lamps?

The answer is probably none.

Swerve projects himself onto the ceiling and mentally pats himself on the shoulder for his impressive intellectual accomplishments. A creativity degree should definitely be a thing.

A degree in spying on the Quintessons' ships wouldn't hurt him either.

Fortunately sneaking onto their ship turns out not to be that difficult. Swerve makes himself absurdly tiny and hides in the darkest corners that no one would ever think to look into. Why hasn't anyone thought of using holoforms for spying before? Could he be the first to think of it? He doesn't know, but he mentally decides to patent the idea.

Finding the Space Bridge is surprisingly easy. The local Quintesson fleet is clearly used to being the dominant force in space. And that's generally logical. Even if humanity collects a mountain of money from somewhere to throw a dozen Mechs into space - there will be thousands of monsters waiting for them. In such a situation, you don't have to hide, the guards are enough.

Well done, well done, don't hide, Swerve thinks, copying the coordinates and address of the space bridge to himself. You have absolutely nothing to fear here, he thinks, so stay where you are and don't move. Please and thank you.

Once the coordinates are obtained, he... has some freedom to explore. And he uses it for probably the most boring-sounding thing in the world. He returns to his usual workplace.

It’s simple. As damning as the Mecha program was, Swerve loved his job in it. He loved his position in the assembly shop. And he missed his friends.

He quickly teleports through several rooms, continuing to hide close to the lamps. Tailgate is here. Alive and unharmed. Wheeljack is too, though his face has some scars added to it. It's great to see them again, even if he can't talk to them right now. No one will probably react well to a grainy unexplainable hologram. He's just glad to know they're okay and honestly, the last thing he needs is paranoid Onslaught installing extra signal jammers.

It takes time to find Blurr. Partly because Swerve is terrified of what he might find if he started looking. So he goes to check the death lists first, and only after flipping through and re-reading them three times does he finally exhale in relief.

Blurr's name isn't there.

So his smug, shiny ass must be around here somewhere.

He checks the hangar. Flips through the Mech launch logs and feels an uncomfortable knot begin to form in his chest. Blurr's Mech has never been repaired or launched even once since the incident. Its plating has been replaced with new, well polished, and put in a prominent place where anyone who wants to can take a picture of it. But all the internal systems are destroyed. This machine hasn't been used for anything other than being a beautiful exhibit.

That's...something's wrong.

He checks offices and schedules as well as eavesdropping on a few conversations and ends up secretly following Swindle, who is arguing loudly with someone on the phone. He says something about deals and how he doesn't need anyone meddling in his business. Then he talks about how he's got everything under control and the person on the phone is “a dumbass who's making drama out of nothing” and that “he doesn't need anyone's handouts". Then he sighs and says, “you know how celebs are. Dumb and dramatic. You can't take their words literally.”

Then drops the call and for a couple seconds looks like he's just had a large bill taken right out of his hand. Curses again, but in a quieter voice. Leafs through his contacts and stops at the one signed 'free ice'.

“Blurr? Where are you? Wha...ah, no wait. No, the advertising agency called. No, liste...Can you shut up for one second?Where are you?

Uh-huh....... Uh-huh.Okay.

Give me half an hour...okay, yeah.”

This is it, Swerve thinks.

He shrinks himself further and teleports under the collar of Swindle's coat.

He wants to take a look. Just. Just a peek. Make sure everything's all right. Then he can go about his original mission in peace. He watches Swindle get in his car and drive off somewhere. Swerve doesn't recognize this part of town. The houses here are much nicer than where he lived. The streets are cleaner.

He tucks himself further under the coat collar. He's not going to be a stalker or anything, but he's worried and he doesn't have time to wait for Blurr himself to show up for work. Just one little look and that's it.

Swindle's car stops outside a beautiful, shiny hospital. Swerve nervously tries to bite his knuckles, but remembers he's disabled touch in his holoform. Shit? Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shi

Blurr looks like a mangled corpse.

Okay, not really. His left side that faces the door to the hospital room looks like a mangled corpse and that's the first thing that catches Swerve's eye when he's inside.

Blurr is pale and thin and his hands are covered in bandages. The left side of his face has been turned into an absolute ugly nightmare. A piece of his ear is missing. In the place of the left eye is a creepy empty hole.

Suddenly Swerve realizes why Blurr didn't show up for work. You can't even show him to his coworkers like that, not just to the public.

Blurr turns his head and the spell breaks. His lips stretch into a cocky smile.

“'Got bored without me Swindle?”

Swindle doesn't show the slightest emotion at the gruesome sight. He casually pulls a chair over to the hospital bed and sits down.

“Shockwave is trying to sneak a new project into the program. And he's slowly swaying investors to his side, using you as an excuse. Tells everyone you're a poor martyr he can save if only he's given the green light from above.”

Blurr wrinkles his nose.

“Not that he's wrong. The doctors say I need to pick a new career because with this...” he jerks his head to the left implying his damaged half, ” neither racing nor piloting is an option for me anymore. I'm out of your project.”

Then he stops talking for a few seconds and raises an eyebrow curiously.

“You wouldn't have come here in person just to say that. Why are you really here?”

Swindle adjusts his glasses

“Have I ever told you why I made the contract with you?”

“Because you like money” Blurr says without hesitation.

Swindle lets out a quiet chuckle.

“Fair point. But money wasn't my only priority.”

He pauses for a second. Gets up. Draws the curtains in the room. Checks to make sure no one is outside the door.

Goes back to his seat.

“You didn't see what the Mecha project was like before. Brutality and absolute disregard for human rights multiplied by a thousand. People were desperate and no one cared to maintain any decency.”

He raises his hand when Blurr rushes to say something.

“No no, listen to me. If you think things are bad now, you're right. But it used to be much. Much, much worse.”

Swindle sighs and adjusts his glasses again

“Vortex was taken as a boy. He wasn't even out of high school when they shoved him into the lab. Me and Onslaught were pulled right out of the college exams. The others were no better, although they were usually a little older. My point is that it was allowed. It's what the superiors could do and no one told them no.”

Blurr tilts his head and gets a little all turned around to see Swindle better with his right eye.

“But you... found a way to change that, didn't you?

Swindle rubs the bridge of his nose

“I have no power over my own superiors. But Onslaught and I have come up with a plan. Look. I'll put it in simple terms for you. Above me is my boss, and above him is another boss, and so on but at the very end of that chain are people from the government. The investors. So we figured out a way to cut through the chain of command and influence them directly. Make them worry about us. It's a kind of social shield. Onslaught is a genius.”

Blurr blinks.

“Why are you telling me all this.”

Swindle takes off his hat and just. Crumples it in his hands. The back of his head shows numerous scars and the glint of tiny metal implants barely visible behind his hair.

“You're that shield right now, Blurr. You can't leave.”

Blurr's eye widens

“Is that why you insisted on ‘befriending’ me with all those bullshitters?”

“I needed to make sure that in their minds we weren't just a military unit. To keep them thinking that we're as human as they are. So I gave Project Mecha a face.” He tugs on the hat again, “Your face.”

Blurr runs his fingers through his hair

“Shockwave can't do whatever he wants cause...because of me his efforts would risk going public and people wouldn't like it and it would ruin the reputation of our investors-and-they'd-cut-off-his-funding.”

Swindle puts his hat back on.

“Exactly.’ That's why he's being so persistent right now. He knows you're vulnerable and he wants to capitalize on the opportunity. Make you part of his new project and tell the world about it. Make publicity his weapon, too.”

The lamp above them flickers faintly. Blurr takes a breath. Long and tired and exhausted and. a bit doomed.

Swindle puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Please. Don't leave. At least not now. And don't let Shockwave get to you. That would open the way for him to get to the rest of the pilots you represent.”

They just. Sit in silence for a while. Blurr quickly taps a finger on his knee. A rapid tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

Swindle moves his hand away and gets up from his chair.

“There's a press conference coming up. I need you to be there. I've told everyone who needs to know that the problem is exaggerated and you're fine but they need to see you.”

Blurr smiles sourly.

“My lawyer is going to charge you such a handsome sum for that stunt.”

Swindle laughs, but his cardboard advertising smile doesn't reach his eyes.

“We’ll see about that. Seriously though. I need you there.”

Blurr bites his lip.

“I..don’t know...”

Swerve...doesn't know what to think of that.

Blurr shows up for the press conference. Late, but he makes it. Just as Shockwave is presenting his new project in his amazingly well-pitched voice. Blurr swings the door open and waltzes lazily inside, skillfully pretending not to notice the many cameras and eyes instantly directed at him.

Swerve, whose memory is still fresh thinks for a second that no, no this can't be the same person. Past Blurr looked like a wreck. Past Blurr was tense and tired and hunched over. Present Blurr couldn't look more alive. His shoulders are squared proudly, there's that cheerful springiness and grace in his stride. He moves with ease and confidence. Smoothly.

The left side of his face is neatly covered with fresh white bandages. Carefully, without leaving the even the slightest gap through which his injury could be seen. His hands are hidden under a fancy jacket. He smiles wide and bright and squints playfully toward the table.

The very embodiment of nonchalance. The few pilots sitting in the audience roll their eyes.

Swindle breathes out a barely perceptible sigh of relief. Swerve, once again using Swindle's collar as a tactical cover, can't help but let out a silent triumphant laugh. Maybe slightly more nervous than he is supposed to be.

Blurr sends Swindle a sly, sharp smile and even knowing it wasn't meant for him, Swerve feels his cheeks heat up.

Ah, damn it.

Swerve breaks the rules. He tells himself that peeking is fraught with consequences when it comes to military organizations, but he can't stop himself from being curious. And from worry, too.

And now that he knows where to look, he sees things he'd rather not see.

Blurr ... is crumbling.

Swerve doesn't know all the details and consequences, but that incident did leave a mark.

But every time Swindle calls him and says “I need you at some place in two hours” he gets up and assembles himself into a human being. Like a goddamn puzzle. Tapes and covers the burned half of his face. Covers up the bruises and hides the stitches. Fixes his hair and sets off on shaky legs to pretend he's fine.

He smiles so bright and carefree, laughs so sweet and beautiful that no one would ever think that even standing up sometimes hurts.

And continues to act like a jerk of course.

The only difference is that this time Swerve mentally gives him the presumption of innocence before he starts judging.

Blurr does a lot of things that seem rude. He also does a lot of things that are actually rude and figuring them out without resorting to alien superpowers would be nearly impossible.

When the pilots see Blurr sitting right on the table while negotiating with investors, they roll their eyes and make comments about his terrible manners. Or when he stops showing up for even the most basic, rudimentary training.

Or when he develops that stupid habit of leaning his elbows on people standing next to him.

It's the model behavior of a rich, spoiled brat.

It's also an inconspicuous way to stay upright.

Employees say “that dumbass has never heard of personal space.”

Investors say, “I think he likes me.”

Blurr leans on Swindle's shoulder and through a charming smile says “Don't move or I'm gonna fall.”

Swindle also keeping up the smile discreetly holds him back, pretending it's a friendly half hug.

Swerve feels like yelling at both of them, but he's not sure what for exactly. For one thing, Blurr in his condition is very VERY VERY contraindicated to even get out of bed, let alone participate in social activities.

On the other hand, without Blurr, everything is going down the pit.

Without Blurr, all the government sees are dry reports and spreadsheets. Without him, all the high command has is numbers and a sense of impunity. Swerve is sickened by how easily people tend to forget that numbers represent other people.

Most pilots are able to draw a parallel between deteriorating working conditions and Blurr's sudden fondness for staying home instead of working. But they think the rich jerk got scared and ran away. Considering the way Blurr has always behaved at work - Swerve can't even judge them too much for it. They assume Shockwave getting more freedom is the cause of Blurr's absence, not the result.

Blurr's influence only becomes noticeable when it slowly starts to fade away. It's like switching from expensive tea to a cheaper one. The awful flavor only becomes noticeable in contrast.

Blurr doesn't lead the development of new technologies or go out to fight in the field. He doesn't make plans and reports, he doesn't participate in drills, he doesn't cover anyone's back in battle.

But he's the one who puts his hand on the government's shoulders when they're about to sign the next piece of paper. He's the one they have to look in the eye before they have a pen in their hands and a document authorizing Shockwave to stick more needles in people's brains.

It makes a difference. Small one. But still.

It turns a disembodied imaginary “combat units” into a tangible person.

From “do you want to accelerate the combat training of new soldiers” to “are you willing to tell the living, breathing guy standing in front of you that shoving poison under his skin is an idea you approve of.”

More importantly (And Swerve actually admires Swindle for this) Will you be able to explain anything to your families later on, when this same guy is on TV all over the country saying that's what you did to him?

There have been two fronts here all this time, Swerve realizes.

While the pilots were protecting people from monsters wearing teeth and armor, Blurr was protecting the pilots themselves from monsters wearing ties and lab coats.

After another conference, Shockwave stops Blurr in the hallway.

“Good show.”

Blurr laughs. Soundly and proudly.

“Thanks darling~ Sorry I interrupted you. Your speech sounded like something important, but I don't really know much about nerd stuff.”

Swerve, hiding on the ceiling again, snorts.

Shockwave doesn't move. Doesn't give any indication at all if he's offended or upset or whatever.

“It must have been hard getting here with your injuries.”

Blurr shrugs and lazily turns his head around distracted.

“It's just a few bruises here and there. Not the end of the world.”

Shockwave nods slowly. His voice and posture and all, Swerve thinks, looking very uncomfortable.

“Of course it isn't. But hardly good for your career.”

Blurr freezes.

No, Swerve thinks. Shit. No, don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't

“Your brilliant achievements have always been a source of admiration to me” continues Shockwave “it would be a pity to lose them.”

Blurr makes an indifferent face and tucks his hands into his pockets.

“Like I said. Not the end of the world.”

Swerve imagines choking Shockwave. Dropping a lamp on his head. Maybe jumping on top of him himself. Shut up, he thinks. Shut up, shut up, stop fucking talking.

Shockwave with a nice, slow gesture pulls out a notebook from somewhere and flips a couple pages.

“Multiple burns, cracked ribs, poisoning from carbon monoxide and combustion products of toxic chemicals...”

Blurr visibly shivers and looks away.

“...loss of vision on one side...” Shockwave continues reading, ”and partial hearing loss. Finally, the impact of neural link malfunctions. And this, if I'm not mistaken, is on top of the already existing memory problems?”

Shockwave takes a step closer. Not fast enough to make it look threatening, but enough to hover.

“It may not be the end of the world, but it is the end of you.”

He writes a set of numbers on the same page, tears it off, and hands it to Blurr.

“You are broken. I can fix you.”

Blurr frowns, but takes the piece of paper.

“That fixing would involve giving you consent to mess around with my head, wouldn't it? It's brave of you to think I'd go for that.”

Shockwave tucks the notepad into his pocket.

“I can assure you, neither I nor anyone else is interested in your brain. I just want to give you back what you're truly valued for.”

Blurr flinches.

“I don't need your help.”

“ If you say so,” Shockwave agrees easily. Nods, slowly and smoothly. Then starts to walk away “But you do need your fame.”

...

“By the way, you might want to wipe the blood off.”

Blurr waits until Shockwave's back disappears around the corner, then quickly pulls a tissue from his pocket and brings it up to his nose.

____________________________

Swerve wakes up looking up at the ceiling of his room. The high, metal ceiling, of a metal room on a metal spaceship.

Holy shit...

Jazz pokes him gently on the forearm

“Are you alive? You've been gone for like quite a while...Did it work?”

“Hey Jazz” frowns Swerve “what do you know about Blurr?”

Jazz laughs

“What are you fanboying over him again? Still??? Dude's smug and arrogant. Good boss though. I was hired to perform at his parties before I became a pilot.”

Swerve sits up and rubs the back of his head.

“Ah...”

“So it worked?”

“Wha...ah! Yes! Yes, it worked! I managed to get the number and codes from the space bridge the Quints used on you. We just need to find another space bridge and we'll have a pretty much direct route to Earth...well. Or rather, to the Quint ship that's located near Earth. You get the idea.”

Jazz rubs his hands together happily.

“I'll take it.”

Swerve jumps to the floor and heads to grab an energon cube. Man, these holoform exercises are burning energy like crazy.

He stares at his metal hands like an idiot for a couple minutes. Just...Contemplates how non-human they are.

He has eight fingers again instead of the human ten. Huh.

Prowl downloads the information he's gotten and immediately runs off to plan a route to the nearest working space bridge and for a while Swerve is just.

Left to himself.

He tries not to think about Blurr. What would he even say to him? Hey, look, I'm sorry I accidentally set you up, see, I'm actually an alien who was sleepwalking and thought you were fictional, surely this won't affect our non-existent strictly professional working relationship? Nah, screw that. If he's going to sound crazy, he needs to at least come up with a good presentation for his insanity.

....

Is it weird to think humans are beautiful if you're not human? If you're kind of human, but only in your soul and only half human?

He looks at Jazz and Prowl.

“You two get along really well.”

Jazz chuckles, sitting on Prowl's shoulder.

“Right now, yes. But we got on each other's nerves quite a bit when we first met.”

Swerve looks up at Jazz's chattering legs from his height and thinks. This is working somehow.

On the other hand, Jazz is the exception rather than the rule. He's friendly with everyone, he's easy to get along with, he's the soul of any company and most importantly, he was a little too much into robots before he discovered they could be alive. If anyone could find common ground with the Cybertronians, it would definitely be Jazz.

_____________________

”Are you a ghost?”

Swerve shrieks in fear and gets covered in static. He hadn't planned on talking. He hadn't planned on being noticed at all. Blurr was supposed to be asleep! And Swerve just wanted to close the curtains and leave, because there's some noisy party going on outside and bright illuminations are very bad for a patient already suffering from neural connection withdrawal.

He freezes in place like that dude from Jurassic Park. Like if he's still enough, he won't be noticed. Oh, or was that from another movie?

“I'm just uh” he awkwardly reaches up and closes the curtains “Lights. Bad for...you...now.”

Blurr chuckles. It sounds suspiciously joyful. His whole posture and facial expression. He looks very relaxed for someone who had a ghost materialize into the room out of thin air.

Swerve traces the line of the IV with his gaze. Oops, that looks like painkillers.

“Yes I am. Uh. A ghost watching the curtains. And now the curtains are fine, so I guess I'd better go?”

Blurr squints amusedly.

“You can walk through walls?”

“Uh, I can teleport into the next room?”

He backs up his words by making himself disappear and reappear in another corner of the room.

“Cool!” says Blurr cheerfully.

Swerve is involuntarily infected by his mood and makes a couple dramatic bows as if he were some kind of magician.

“ Show me more?”

“Hehehe okay eh” Swerve spreads his arms like he's presenting something and then makes himself the size of a soda bottle and teleports to the edge of Blurr's bed “Ta daaaa~”

“Wooooo look at you, you're like an action figure~”

Blurr immediately makes an attempt to touch him, but fails to reach and drops his hand back on the blanket.

Swerve chuckles and steps closer. It's funny to see the usually incredibly agile Blurr struggling with something so simple and ridiculous.

“They really drugged you huh?”

“It's not the drugs” snorts Blurr ”...it's my eye.”

He raises his hand once more and hesitantly pulls it towards Swerve until it bumps into his hair

“... depths Per…percen.. ah, shit. I can't tell how far away things are.”

Swerve just. Lets Blurr fidget at himself, while starting to feel really bad at the same time.

"If you can't tell how far things are, how are you going to drive?

Race???”

He must have a plan right? Something? Let’s-prove-Shockwave-wrong tactic???

Blurr drops his hands back on the blanket

“I won't.”

He freezes when the all too close fireworks rumble outside the window. Then points to his head.

“With this. I can't drive, I can barely walk at all, and I look like horror movie material. Pathetic heeh.”

Swerve sits down quietly cross-legged on the blanket.

“Well...at least you're alive....”

Blurr shakes his head.

“If I had died, it would have been epic. You know? Dharm...dramatic! It would be big news and everyone would be talking about what a hero I was or...or something...”

“...”

“Swindle would be so angry, but he'd figure out a way to make money out of it. He'd make a commercial about how people should be heroes. I'd be remn..remembered for being cool and brave and stuff.”

Fireworks can be heard from the street again. Swerve notices that there is a thin slit between the closed curtains through which a slim, flickering strip of multicolored light streams into the room.

Blurr frowns and leans back against the pillow, looking up at the ceiling.

“I've turned into a boring wreck. My records will be beaten, my career forgotten , and all the guys from work will remember me as a brat. In a--in a--in a way, it's worse than death. Shockwave's right.”

Swerve isn't sure what exactly would be an acceptable gesture of comfort, so he kind of just. Places his hand on the blanket covering Blurr's lap.

“Hey, don't say that. I think what you're doing is great.”

“Liar” smiles Blurr crookedly ”You hated me. I saw your posters collection.”

Oh shit. The ones he ripped off the walls and destroyed in a fit of fan frustration? He didn't even hide them, just shoved them in the back corner. Aw, man...

Swerve folds his arms awkwardly across his chest.

“I can be mad at you and think you're cool at the same time. I'm a multitasker.”

“You're a very specific kind of ghost.” says Blurr. Then, apparently inspired by the painkillers, decides to drop the conversational equivalent of an atomic bomb on Swerve's head “You died because of me?”

Swerve stiffens.

“I...Wwhat?”

“You know.” he makes a gesture with his hand that's ..unclear what it's supposed to mean. “You were working there with everyone else, and then there was that fire and I was sure I saw you down there under the rubble.”

He's silent for a couple seconds before he hesitantly continues

“And then no one could find you so most assumed you either burned or ran away. And now you're here with all your weird ghost stuff, so you must be dead.”

Swerve has.No idea what to think about it. And what to say? He's been so busy blaming himself for Blurr getting hurt that it hasn't occurred to him to think about what it looks like from Blurr's own perspective.

“Actually” says Swerve ”I'm an alien.”

“Heh” giggles Blurr ”sorry, my head’s all cloudy, I thought you said you were an alien.”

Swerve wants to run around and bang his head against the wall.

Instead, he gets up from the hospital bed. Carefully.

“You're high. I'm not going to explain things to you while you're high, you won't understand or remember them. Go back to sleep. It's the middle of the night.”

“You'll tell me later?”

Swerve hums quietly and pulls the curtains all the way closed.

“If future, sober Blurr would want my company.”

---------------

Jazz looks at him. Very intensely.

“Are you going to tell me who this mystery person you keep coming back to Earth for?”

Swerve snorts.

“What makes you think it's anyone in particular?”

“You're right, you're right~” raises his hands in surrender Jazz “So are you going to tell your friend the whole thing?”

Swerve crosses his ..metal arms over his metal chest.

“Is it that big of a deal? He thinks I'm a ghost or something.”

Being a ghost...somehow better, he thinks. If you're a ghost, it kind of automatically implies you're human. Or was a human.

“Sooner or later, he'll put the facts together~” says Jazz in a chant.

Swerve laughs.

“That's unlikely. He's got a pretty bad memory.”

_______________

His plans to stay out of anyone's sight combust with a dramatic pop the next time he projects himself to Earth. He doesn't plan to interfere, he doesn't even plan to linger. He just wants to see what's going on.

He actually just quietly sneaks into the hospital to make sure nothing's happened to Blurr since last time, but when he finally finds him then...oh shit, is that Pharma in the same room with him??? This can't be good.

They don't speak, but Pharma has clearly locked his eyes on Blurr and starts making his way towards him with the relentlessness of a industrial metal press.

Swerve does some rough math in his head. If he briefly gives his holoform back its detail and voice, will that be enough to fry his processor? He's not sure.

Pharma gives a believable impression of a shark getting close. The staff, as if sensing something untoward is about to happen, leaves the room in a hurry.

Blurr looks indifferent, but Swerve's attention is drawn to the way he squints tensely. Man, the lamps are too bright in here.

Pharma smiles sweetly and reaches out for a handshake

“Mind some company?”

Swerve's mental processes fly out the window. Oh no no. Not Pharma. Not in his fucking fanfic. He quickly changes his work clothes into a slightly more business-like looking shirt. Thinks for just a moment and adds a cap to his head to blend in more strongly with the attendants and hide his face to an extent. And then projects himself around the nearest unoccupied corner and runs out of behind it looking as anxious as he feels.

“Blurr!!! Sir, there you are!!! I've been looking everywhere for you!”

Pharma wants to say something, but Swerve doesn't even let him start. He stands in front of Blurr separating him and Farma expressively waves his hands trying to keep his head down.

“The guys you were talking about didn't bring the new hydraulics! It's a disaster, we'll have to use the one on the old models!”

Blurr, to his surprise, backs up his act almost instantly

“Really? But I thought there was nothing to take from the old models?”

“That's exactly the point! I got the paperwork this morning and...oh those assholes are going to screw it up if you don't step in as soon as possible!”

Pharma tilts his head

“Can it wait? We were actually talking here!”

Oh no, thinks Swerve I'll show you who's talking.

“Sir, no offense but this is a matter of extreme urgency. Are you implying that the safety of your patients is not important?”

“What do you mea...”

“Old faulty hydraulics, that's what you want?” raises an eyebrow in horror Blurr.

“No I'm just...”

“I had a better opinion of you, to be honest.”

“I...” opens his mouth Pharma “...WHAT...?”

Swerve shakes his head.

“And I thought his profession was to help people, can you imagine?”

“Wh..”

Blurr rolls his eye.

“Any idiot can get an important position these days.”

“Wait..”

“Tell me about it. Especially doctors.”

Pharma looks like he's about to start pulling the hair out of his head.

“Can at least one of you shut up??”

Swerve adjusts his cap in a businesslike manner

“Sir, I understand you're a bit detached from reality spending so much time in your department, but you need to take better care of your reputation.”

He raises his eyebrows knowingly

“Wouldn't want the rumors about you to turn out to be true. You know what I mean?”

Pharma doesn't even answer anymore. Pharma just looks like a discarded fish.

“…..Wha....there's rumors?”

“Of course” shrugs Swerve ”Ask Norman, he usually knows everything about everyone. And about your interesting tricks with safety, too.”

He leans in conspiratorially, effectively pulling all of Farma's attention to himself

“So if I were you, I'd stay out of any more things you don't understand.”

Pharma wants to say something. Swerve can tell by the look in his eyes. Pharma tries to come up with a witty and context-appropriate response, but this whole conversation has no more context than a typical episode of Teletubbies.

“Where does this Norman guy work?” finally finds the ground beneath his feet Pharma

Swerve shrugs.

“Block C, if he hasn't been transferred yet. He's already been fined several times for spreading harmful information you know? The guy can't keep a secret.”

Pharma throws his hands up angrily and storms away. Probably looking for context. Or revenge.

A quiet cough sounds behind Swerve's back.

“So. Should I be worried about Norman's health?”

Swerve feels the hair on the back of his neck shiver and slowly turns to face Blurr while still looking somewhere on the floor.

“Uh...only if you're concerned about the fate of fictional characters. I made up Norman's wife, she'll be upset if he gets fired for gossiping.”

Blurr chuckles. Then goes silent. Then, after a couple seconds, starts laughing again. That's a good look for him, Swerve thinks. It's not like Blurr's usual velvet-smooth laugh that he uses at social events. It's more like a quick, jerky giggle, and in Swerve's subjective opinion, it's pretty damn cute. He can't help but grin.

Blurr snorts one last time, cutting off the laughter.

Then he reaches out his hand to him.

Swerve reaches back, expecting a handshake, but Blurr ignores his hand and instead goes for his cap and lifts it by the brim.

Swerve, not expecting this, freezes with his hand outstretched.

Blurr freezes as well, still holding the cap in his hand and looking...like he's rethinking his life. A little.

Ugh, and how to explain it all to him....

“Uh...you...uh...probably don't remember me. I...it's...”

Blurr shifts his gaze from Swerve to the cap in his hand. Then back to Swerve.

“You're real???”

Swerve awkwardly waves his hands in front of him

“Ah not.., not really. Do you know why Pharma was looking for you in the first place? He doesn't work with patients anymore, he's been reassigned to the research department, right?”

Blurr shrugs.

“Last time I saw him, he said I might have implant rejection in the third ..uh..what? stage? or something? I think he's trying to get me in for a checkup.”

Swerve twitches.

“Third??? How are you still standing???”

He then quickly reaches up with both hands to Blurr's head and tilts it so he can see his face better. Using one thumb, he pulls his lower eyelid slightly and mentally catalogs. Temperature normal, pupil normal, eyes are steady, no darkening or trace of blood on the eyelid. Implants? He puts both palms up and gently feels the places behind Blurr's ears. No signs of rejection or malfunction.

“No no no” sighs Swerve ”You're fine, it's only stage two. I mean, second sucks too, migraines and all, but you just need to rest and no bright lights and...” he finally notices his hands are still on Blurr's head and pulls them back as fast as if he's been burned ”I MEAN I'm uh...sorry, I didn't mean to, I...”

Blurr laughs quietly.

“I'm glad you're back.”

_____________________

He wakes up in his quarters and can feel his face burning.

When he goes out to get the energon, Jazz throws him a look.

“Is something wrong? You're all kinda...shaky.”

“Hhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuu” imitates signs of life Swerve “Say, doesn't it bother you that Prowl isn't human?”

Jazz smiles

“ Oh, I went crazy when I found out. But we figured it out.”

“Like...on a scale from ‘bad grade in school’ to ‘an asteroid is coming to Earth’ how crazy was it?”

“Worried about what your human friends will think?”

Swerve swings back and forth on his heels

“Pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff. Whatnooooo, no of course not. I'd be worried if I planned on telling them at all.”

Jazz frowns

“No offense, but keeping secrets isn't your strong suit.”

“Haha” Swerve waves his servo “ Watch me.”

[mtchee]

An Honour to be in a Harem!? - [Genshin Impact SAGAU] | MDNI | GN AFAB 18+

blurb:

The concept of all these gorgeous people bowing before you is hard to grasp, but it's even worse to think that they'd actually offer themselves to you as a love interest. So obviously, you brush them off and decline, retorting that just because you're their supposed Creator doesn't mean they should feel as though they had to subject themselves to your unwanted affection. After all, who were you really, to compare to them? Unfortunately (or fortunately, actually) they seem quite boggled at your output. Ah! It all makes sense now! Their dearly Beloved is the shy type! Worry not, your Grace! Your dearest acolytes are more than happy to bask in any sort of attention you decide to share! Rest assured, they'll take care of all your needs~

cw: not edited, second-person-pov, kind of a sequel?, afab bodied, you are dearly beloved and longed for <3, realistically if this happened i would rather die of a heart attack, lots of love and affection!!, mdni, spicy content, swearing, smut, overstim, manhandling, voyeurism, squirting, fingering, cunnilingus, sub [name], use of terms cunny cunt pussy tit breasts, help i'm embarassed i wrote this omfg who am i, would u believe me if i said this is my first smut

| masterlist | genshin impact collection |

< prev. - amab! ver. - next. > [afab] [amab]

[3.0k]

What is this bullshit.

You can't help but just blink at the Archon knelt at your feet, his head bowed low. When you emit a shocked squeak he looks up at you, amber eyes latching onto your flustered expression.

Your gaze darts around the few others surrounding your throne--you only really sit in it when the people of teyvat line up for personal prayers and blessings, or when someone tells you to. Otherwise, you avoid sitting in it.

Venti, Ei, Al-haitham, Ayato, Ningguang, Jean, Furina, Neuvillette, and Tartaglia stand past Zhongli who is knelt before you.

You force a polite smile and let out a nervous laugh, "Aha, um... d-dont.. you don't have to do that. Really."

"Do not misunderstand, Beloved," The geo Archon stands to his full height, and you feel small despite the grandness of your seat, "it truly would be my--our, utmost honour." He places a hand over his heart and bows lowly by the waist. The others follow in tandem, and you panic.

"No! Really," Although all your fanfic dreams were coming true, knowing that these are now very much real people and not just characters put you on edge. They all have their own lives to live, their own goals and ambitions, likes and dislikes, preferences and attractions that you certainly didn't and never would attain.

At first, the idea is flustering and the offer makes you feel giddy, but looking into it, you feel bad. They see you as their All-Maker, who are you to make them miserable?

"You don't need to do that. I-I know there's that rumour going around, but really, I'm fine by myself."

"Your Grace," Ei steps forwards with a tiny furrow in her thin brows, "please, it would be our honour--"

"You know what would really be an honour," Your heart stings slightly, but you straighten up on your throne and give your audience a reassuring smile, "is if you went out on your own to seek who you actually love, to find a partner you'll be happy to spend your time with--to love on your own accord. That, would be an honour, I'd say."

You're not oblivious to how everyone reels back at your words, a mixture of shock, fear, and disbelief covering their features sported by prominent frowns.

Al-haitham is the one to break the tense silence that freezes the room.

"Beloved," His eyes flicker over you, thought and theories wiring around his ever working mind, "are we unsatisfactory?"

You blanch, "Gah! No! Oh my--it's nothing like that!" You can't help but feel flushed under the intensity of their eyes.

"It's just, you need to not see me as a duty."

You address them calmly, forcing your fluttering feelings down to school your face passively.

"You need to focus on yourselves, and your own lives. I'm not here to come between that."

Their silent stares are unnerving, and Venti and Furina share a look with hidden smiles while Jean steps forward with a respecful bow.

"Of course, your Grace."

"F-Fuck..!"

Embarassed tears sting your eyeline while you hold your breath, desperately trying to get ahold of yourself.

Plap! Plap! Plap!

Your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head and a loud moan is forced out of you each time Ayato's fat cock plunges in and out of your sloppy cunt.

He sits leant against the finest silken pillows with your naked back pressed against his bare, toned chest, an arm wrapped securely around your waist while the other sweetly fondles with one of your spit laden breasts.

Thoma lay stomach down on the soft doona, face buried dutifully between your quivering thighs which he holds apart with surprising strength. He tongues at your swollen clit fervently, and you cry out in humiliation when your slick gushes from your slit and onto the expensive fabric below.

"G-nngh!" You clench your eyes shut at the embarassingly loud noise of skin slapping against skin and the lewd sucks of Thoma's mouth and the squelching of your pussy, "a-ah..! Ah! Ah!"

The Kamisato Commisioner lets out a low moan by your ear, feeling your hot and gummy walls squeeze down on his cock deliciously.

"Remember-- hng! R-Remember to breathe, my beloved."

He gently squishes the enticing softness of your tit, bucking up into you abruptly when you let out a squeal as he pinches your nipple.

"M-Mm~ my dearest," Thoma moans onto your slickened pearl, and you just about explode at the burst of electric pleasure that shoots up your spine, "you taste.. divine..~!"

Your heart thrums at the messy sight of him, his lips, chin and cheeks covered in your honey thick slick with half lidded eyes locked onto your expressions. You let out a needy moan when you notice him desperately grinding his naked hips into the bedding for release.

A now all too familiar searing pleasure suddenly coils in the utmost depth of your body, and you scream at the sheer ferocity of it.

"C-Can't! I can't!"

You buck your hips away from Ayato's throbbing length and bump into Thoma's chin, but they only follow you--the commisioner's arm moving from your waist to your hips, locking you in place while Thoma's grip moves from your thighs to the underside of your knees, opening you up and forcibly holding you still.

You dig your nails into Ayato's arm, your other hand fruitlessly shoving at the housekeeper's head to push him away.

The pleasure becomes piercing, and you choke on a sob as your gushing cunny just goes squelch, squelch, squelch with every thrust you have to take. His cock feels so dangerously good, and you fear your clit might bleed from its continuous onslaught of pleasure.

Thoma's tongue licks at the opening of your slit and the base of his lord's cock, and Ayato curses lowly, his grip tightening.

You feel something thick and heavy and hot spurt inside you, though the pounding doesn't let up and the near painful coil violently pops inside you, and you shriek in tandem with the burst of watery clear fluid that squirts from your throbbing cunny.

Your face burns hot with humiliation, and you can only muffle your embarassed moans into the fabric of the couch.

Naked and vulnerable, you're bent ass up and face down over Al-haitham's lap with his dominant hand knuckle deep in your wet pussy.

Maybe, just maybe you might've been able to handle this amicably, but not with Kaveh walking in and berating the Akademia Scribe turned Grand Sage on his pleasure skills.

With your ass held high and knees spread, your leaking cunt is on display for the genius architect while his roommate fingers you ruthlessly, constantly prodding and rubbing that special squishy spot inside you that renders you immobile.

"H-Hah.. mmngh! Ah..."

You can do nothing but take it and drool on the couch while they squabble above you as though you're not there.

"--Y-You brute! That's our beloved and you're treating them like that!?"

"I'd say our Creator quite likes it."

You stifle a screech when Al-haitham takes his other hand and spreads your ass open to prove his argument to Kaveh.

"See?" He takes out his fingers and spreads them apart, watching your hot slick string apart, "and here too." You sob loudly as he gently prods your pussy lips apart to stare down your red, throbbing clit.

Kaveh's face flushes at the lewd display, and he gulps while setting his suitcase down off to the side before approaching.

"A-And?"

"[name] has cum thrice already."

Kaveh's brow twitches, "Were you not going to clean them up?!"

Al-haitham huffs indifferently despite the miniscule tint of pink arousal across his cheeks, "I'll leave that to you."

The blond hmphs at him before cooing at you softly, praising you with your title and demeanour.

"Our beloved," He caresses your back, and you shiver pleasantly at the tingle it stimulates, "you've been so good, haven't you? Done so well..."

He hushes you gently as he moves closer behind you, kneeling at the couch's edge, face level with your puffy cunny. Al-haitham remains quiet this time around, his non-slick covered hand patting your head lovingly.

"It's okay~ I'll take good care of you now, I'll clean you up all nice, alright?"

You only whine when he sinks his tongue into your pussy, lapping up your spilled juices and nipping at your reddened bud. Your body trembles with an absentminded moan when he sucks on your sore little clit, and he emits a noise of suprise as a new abundance of syrup leaks from your opening.

Al-haitham quirks up a brow, "Four times, now."

"Mercy! M-Mercy..!" You cry out.

"Oh," Lisa tuts demeaningly, "no, no, no dear one~ You see, you didn't quite seem to believe our intentions true when we offered ourselves to you. So it only seems right that we prove it, yes?"

You can't squirm away from Eula's mouth, her strength baffling as she keeps you stood still against the Grand Master's desk with ease. Amber mouths at the mounds of your breasts, obessed with how soft the fat of them are.

You whimper loudly when Eula curls her two fingers into your front wall, clenching down on her and nearly screaming when she thrusts them into you punishingly.

Jean can't help but watch in stunned silence of you, your voice and body ethereal. She can't wait to get a taste of her own as you shudder and gasp.

It was bad enough when Venti had his way with you earlier under Vanessa's tree, simultaneously teasing you and giving you everything you wanted.

He ran his mouth with words that were both endearingly sweet and pure debauchery, controlling the winds to graze at your hardened nipples with ghost like touches that left you spasming and breathless.

He'd shown you his choice of belonging to you through the intimate thrusts of his hips and sloppy, loving kisses across your body--he'd then guided you back to the gates of Mondstadt with the help of the wind to keep you balanced.

You cry when a thin zap of purple shocks your pulsing clit, cumming instantly while Eula's tongue soothes over it with the help of her cryo ability. Your lewd honey drips down your leg and onto the floor, and the blue haired girl sneers at the waste of it.

A whimper escapes you when Amber nips at your soft tit a little too harshly, and she murmurs a timid apology, looking up at you reverently before continuing.

"P-Please..!" You hate how they've all been able to make you cry with pleasure, as though they always knew just what they were doing to you, "it..-it hurts now..! A-Aaahhh..."

You let out a long, breathy whine as you cum again, tears steaming down your cheeks as the gentle wave of bliss washes over you. You almost miss Acting Grand Master Jean calling for someone to enter after a knock on the door.

Humiliation of your state causes you to flush and shut your teary eyes as Kaeya walks in, gaze latching onto you immediately.

He closes the door behind him, humming lowly at the sight.

His eye glints in dirty interest, a grin creeping up his lips at the sound of your whimpers and sloppy cunt.

"Oh? It's our turn already?"

"Kaeya! You're just in time," Lisa grins mischieviously, "I believe our dearly beloved is ready for something... thicker, now." She smiles as though her filthy implication were a casual statement of time.

You hate being the centre of attention, but fuck does it feel good. You hate feeling so vulnerable, but good god do they take care of you.

Maybe, just maybe you could allow yourself to indulge in their affections...

Nope.

Hate. You hate, hate, hate, hate hate it.

You whimper quietly, head bowed to hide your face from the prying eyes of the others seated around you.

You're back in the lands of Inazuma, in the very same place you were last time the picnic was set up. It was much more lavish this time around, based in the early evening with a gorgeous ocean view, lights strung up in the trees and scattered atop a few stable rocks.

The blankets laid down were much thicker this time, and the pillows larger and fluffier. The sunset paints the horizon gold and pink which fades into a rich purple and, eventually, the glimmering darkness of night.

You sit in Zhongli's lap, a spare blanket covering your bare lower half as you squirm on his throbbing cock. You could feel his other drooling pre-cum against your lower back.

The others had been coaxing you to eat your share of the platter, Navia and Wriothesly feeding you small portions since you were too shy to do so yourself.

Though ashamed and bashful, you can't help but clench and throb, and you fluster when Zhongli lets out a small groan from behind you.

Navia places a comforting hand on your covered knee.

"Beloved Creator, are you alright?" Her voice is soft, loving.

You swallow sharply, shoulders hunched and tense nervously from those watching.

"Your Grace?" You glance over at Diluc who huffs with a small blush of his own, "we'll take care of you."

Your cunt throbs, and Zhongli thrusts into you.

You yelp at the sudden motion, straightening up instinctively to balance yourself only for your most devoted to thrust into you again, and again, and again. His arm wraps around your waist to keep you seated, and the blanket slowly slips from your lap from the movement.

"A-Ah! Zhon--aahhh!"

Squelch, plap, slap, his fat cock hits the textured roof of your squishy insides and sends an overwhelming shock of pleasure through you. Throwing your head back with a lewd moan, both your embarassment and arousal increase tenfold at the sight of your most shameless worshippers touching themselves at the sight of you.

Others swallow roughly, barely holding themselves back with a single thread of dignity. Those of them watch with eyes that burn your body into memory, and the intensity both frightens and arouses you.

The better of them murmur and coo praises at you, causing your stomach to flutter and your pussy to gush.

You pant loudly when Ayato softly intructs you to breathe, and you squeal when Tartaglia reachs out to play with your pretty clit while rubbing his neglected cock.

"Pl..ease..! Hah..!"

You feel a pair of lips on your neck and whine, whimpering shamefully when Neuvillette starts whispering sweet praise into your ear, sucking on your skin softly. You white knuckle the thick blanket by your forcefully opened legs and clench your eyes shut in humiliation.

Your cunny starts to tingle with sparks of pleasure that strike your overstimulated bundle of nerves, and you flush at the feeling of your sex juices trailing from your slit to your ass, soiling Zhongli's clothed lap and the pillows and fabric below.

"Hng! Cumming! AH!" You shriek, thrashing in their hold, "c-cumming! H-Help, 'm cumming-- oohhh~ Ohh~"

That weird prickly feeling coils in your tummy again, and you let out a lewd and bratty whine when they don't let up on their touching.

"S-Slow! PLEASE! F-Fuck! Feels funn-y~!"

When you slap at Childe's hand, your own are quickly restrained by Kazuha who simply smiles with red cheeks and mutters to you flowery reassurances.

The sound of your pussy is loud, it's noisy, and filthy. You emit a desperate, pleading wail, not knowing if your subconscious is trying to beg them to stop or to stay.

Saliva pools in your mouth then begins to hang open as your starry eyes roll into the back of your head, chest heaving.

Your thighs tremble and your fingers twitch--Kazuha intertwines them with his own, and you lock onto the comforting hold.

"G-Good!" You can't stop yourself from babbling, "m-makes me feel soOo goood~!"

"Oh, sweet one~" Yae Miko giggles.

"You understand that we choose you now, yes?" Ningguang hums with a teasing quip. Her eyes torn between your adorably lewd features and your swollen, glistening cunt.

"Relax, beloved. It's only us, your most faithful~"

"Mm, don't hold back, dearest."

"Can you moan for us, beloved? You sound just delicious when you moan!"

"Are you gonna cum for us?"

"It's not fair how they got a taste of you first~!"

"Hng..! A-ah, hah!"

"Oh-oh! Beloved, calm down, you're alright. Just let it happen.."

"Do you feel good, your Grace?"

"--c-cumming- cumming! Cumming..!"

A white hot blaze of heat crashes over you, and your ears ring as your body trembles in utter bliss. Your slick pussy squeezes and gushes with your lewd honey, and as your abused little pearl sears with an almost painful pleasure, your body squirts out your most powerful orgasm that soaks the blankets and the people surrounding.

Pleasure caused tears leave hot stains on your face, and your head lulls to the side tiredly. Your chest heaves for breath as you come down from your high, and it takes a few moments before the ringing finally stops and you can hear again.

Doting whispers and coos are the first thing you process, followed by something thick and hot leaking out of your stretched and now empty hole.

A hand caresses your head as many others touch on you innocently, checking in on you and taking care of you.

Someone holds a glass to your lips, and someone else helps you lean forwards to sip.

You startle at the feeling of a soft mouth coming to gingerly lick and suck at your sore pussy, and you let out a delirious whine.

Another acolyte hushes you gently, kissing you softly before another joins in peppering kisses all over your tired face to distract you from the one cleaning you up between your legs.

You still feel light headed from the embarassment of it all, but you've latched onto the pleasant tingling you feel when they look at you so adoringly--more lovingly than just in reverence.

No, actually.

You don't hate this at all.

[jiminrings]

MERRY CHRISTMAS MAYOR RINGS!!! can we mayhaps pls get some crumbs for mature!jungkook as a holiday gift pls pls pls 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

mature aka f2l fic aka push and pull fic sneak peek :D

the good thing about professing your feelings to jungkook is that it'd be over with, whether or not he likes you back — the bad thing is that he rejects you, even if you haven't confessed.

alternatively, crushing on jungkook who's in your friend group is, has, and will never be a good idea.

You theorized that getting over Jungkook would be fairly easy on the chance that he rejects you after your confession.

You figure that Jungkook himself as a concept would be drastically difficult to move on from because he was just so lovable. He doesn’t know how to read a room and it’s one of his better quirks when you’re worrying over nothing. He doesn’t know much about knowing when to let up, and it comes in clutch when he’s pushing you to wholeheartedly do an assignment even if you’re already burnt out from crying.

Jungkook, as a concept, is indestructible. He’s the everyday variant of the goodness that some frat guys possess occasionally. He’s the realistic, attainable version of a main lead in a manhwa that’s only perfect 1/4 into the plot. 

He’s the manifestation of every good deed a stranger has done for you, except he’s someone you know with your heart and not just someone you could sketch from memory. 

With that, you also figured that moving on from Jungkook can’t be that hard because he was too out of reach despite being in the same friend group as you. Surely, it wouldn’t be so catastrophically hard to move on from a guy who just gasps for air every five minutes when he’s in charge of cooking in the BBQ hangout (instead of using the exhaust like a normal person), or from a guy who thinks citing references for a paper is only a suggestion.

The funny thing about it all is that you never actually confessed to Jungkook.

Actually (and contrary to the assumptions of the other friends you have from your circle), you’ve never said it to his face that you do have a crush on him. You’re ultimately known to be the friendliest person to ever walk the campus, and while not the most confrontational, they atleast expected for you to confess to Jungkook in your own way.

What actually happened was that Jungkook read through you — he does happen to be right about your feelings for him! He’s the second friendliest person right beneath you, and so the way he rejected you should never sting this much.

Jungkook thought it out meticulously. He read into the way you spent extra attention listening to him with your eyes practically gleaming. He read into the way you’d lag back behind him and hold him by his wrist whenever you were all crossing the street. Hell, he even read into the way you would take a shot at opening the extremely tight water bottle from the vending machine before everyone else.

The funny, tragic thing about it is that whilst Jungkook wasn’t wrong about pinpointing your feelings for him — you never confessed.

Jeon Jungkook, the second, ultimate friendliest man that your university has ever known, rejected you without even hearing the actual words from you.

He’s turned his back on you even before you could reach him, and the realization sinks in you unsettlingly. You never expected for him to like you back because it would be unfair of you, and you knew that; what just happened to hurt you most was that Jungkook didn’t even think twice.

He hadn’t given you the chance to pour your heart out at the very least.

He hadn’t even given you the space to breathe right after the rejection, because he skips and puts a smile on before winking, telling you that he’ll never speak of it again because you must probably be embarrassed.

The funniest thing about it all is that you aren’t embarrassed — you’re actually devastated about it.

It’s an odd event for Jungkook to feel lonely because with such a big friend group, he never thought he’d feel a little empty despite literally rubbing elbows in a circular table. He never thought he’d come to be a little annoyed at Jimin and his routine, playful, borderline offensive banter he’d always have with you at the top of the morning, and he never thought he’d even be more annoyed over the absence of it.

There’s one less laugh in the circle. One less bag strewn underneath the table, one less coffee order written on the notes app, and one less person to look for when hanging out.

You’re missing from the friend group, and oddly enough, Jungkook seems to be the most devastated about it.

“Why is Y/N not here?” he asks in the middle of Jin retelling his drunken fishing story, grabbing the attention of everyone in the table and maybe just about everyone else’s in the common area with the way his voice is frantic. “And why is she there with the new kid instead?”

Everyone flits through separate conversations after Jungkook’s interruption, some even wincing to themselves because although they know about your admiration for the guy and not your confession-that-wasn’t-one, they figure that nothing good could come out of Jungkook sucker-punching the new kid in his head.

“I don’t know, man. Buddy system, maybe?” Jin shrugs, stealing his food because it was obvious that Jungkook’s attention is everywhere but himself and the table.

Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms tightly to the point that even he feels a little suffocated. His entire face is crumpled with hurt, eyebrows furrowed out of frustration when you still aren’t looking at him; when you’re still not looking at him with confusion in your eyes, silently telling him off for glaring.

“Buddy system? We’re in uni. Who the fuck would bully that guy?”

“By the looks of it, probably you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he huffs, refusing to unclench his fists on his thighs.

“Well, what’s it to you that Y/N’s hanging out with someone new? What are you so heated for?” Jin elaborates, eyes flitting to you again.

Jungkook could only glare at you.

“What are you so nosy for?” he asks defensively, leaning back on his chair in a faux display of relaxation when all he wants to do is to remove the stupid smile on the guy’s face as he watches you talk.

Unlike Jungkook, Yoongi’s not stupid at all — in fact, he’s been vigilantly aware of Jungkook’s glare on the side of his face ever since you sat in front of him.

Yoongi’s not stupid, so he angles himself in a way that Jungkook gets to see him more. He doesn’t know the guy personally, but he does know of him and his “charm” that seems to make everyone go nuts for him. 

If looks could kill, then Yoongi would’ve already had mourners at his feet, but if provocation could posion, then Jungkook would already be frothing at the mouth.

.

.

.

EEEEE happy holidays!!! i've always wanted to write a push n pull fic bc it's one of my faves to read n here we are.. heh this is one out of the three fics i'll be releasing for the season :D

to get ahead of questions, YESSS this is a general fic, meaning it will be posted here on tumblr this december 28th, 12 am kst 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ but if u wanna read it now, along with a couple hundred exclusive pieces (get to know here), then head to my patreon :D (p.s. as a heads up, the two remaining holidays fics will be posted on patreon on the 28th n the 31st respectively, then posted on tumblr in january!!)

[ghostieblr]

Melting Glaciers

Because the universe is unfair, it gives Derek Hale a kitten. One that is just as black as his wolf fur, and just as scary looking until you manage to get close to her by a painstakingly long process of trust exercises and find that oh, she's the most adorable thing in the world, too.

See, Stiles is a realist. When constant skirmishes with one certain older werewolfman, where his life was equally threatened and saved by this said werewolfman, made his little Stiles happy to the point of constant little deaths in the not-so-privacy of his bedroom, he'd choked down the realization of not being so straight as he'd mistakenly thought. At the time, the sorrow of it had more to do with the fact that his crushes were always so unattainable rather than the fact that it was a man he was crushing on, one that his dad had arrested too. And then when his dad was brought into the fold of the hidden layer in their world, and he saw his dad recognize the real Derek, he knew he had his dad's permission.

His dad's always been a realist, too. Stiles' affection is anything but secret when it comes to Derek, because he deserves all the good things in the world, and despite his design to push and prod until the person Stiles is talking to comes undone and shares their secrets, Stiles has done anything but that with him. In the beginning, it was curiousity. It was his desire to know the unknown, to gather all the facts, to know enough to get over Derek Fuckin' Hale. Somewhere down the line, but very close to beginning, his feelings turned warmer, though. Glacier of ice melting into rivulets of water, carried away on a sea of emotions he'd denied himself to dip toes in for far too long.

And now that Derek's brought home a kitten he found abandoned near the Walmart, and named her Princess of all things, Stiles has been forced to take a fucking dive into that sea.

He makes a choked off sound when Derek, in the middle of the Loft, takes off his soft-looking, cozy green henley, and Stiles is assualted with the very vivid view of his gorgeous abs.

Derek opens his arms and Princess, deeming it her cue, climbs atop him, her little claws her little helpers, and Derek's enchanting smile Stiles' doom. Once she's nestled against his chest, he looks at Stiles. Another sound falls from Stiles' mouth, without his permission. It's a whine, he thinks; a call for help.

"You okay?"

O-K-A-Y. Four letter word, where sometimes the last two alphabets are unnecessary. Just like this question.

"What do you think!" Oh no. He needs to calm down. Princess is looking at him, her green eyes wide and anxious. Stiles whispers, hisses really, "Her! You! Henley!"

Derek looks at his little princess, then looks back at him. "You are not making sense, Stiles." Looks back at Princess, says, "Your Tata is acting crazy." Princess meows, as if in agreement, and oh fuck, seriously universe? Why should Derek look so damned adorable when he's just paying attention to his kitten like many others do! Hell, Peter was doing the same thing in the last pack meeting, and Stiles had thought nothing of it. But Derek does it, and it's like Stiles has discovered a whole new world of kinks. What the hell.

During Stiles' inner freakout, Derek has managed to sit on the couch, and now he's petting Princess, who is still attached to his chest like a barnacle. Why isn't Stiles a kitten?

Wait.

"DID YOU JUST ME CALL ME HER TATA?!"

Princess hisses quite venomously at him, probably at the volume of his voice, because Derek winces too. Oops. But no, not oops!

This is serious business.

He points a finger at Princess. "Don't talk to me like that young lady," he waggles his finger for emphasis. She follows it with her eyes, looks at Derek once, then settles down and watches him with wide, unblinking eyes. What an attitude on this one. Just like her dad, really. Who is... looking at him, the corner of his lips tilted up in amusement. "You. Words. Explain."

"Words are usually his thing," Derek tells Princess, who meows once in acknowledgment. Then he lifts his eyes towards Stiles and pats the free seat beside him. Stiles sits. "I am more of an action person."

And then Derek takes Stiles' hand and puts it on top of his other one, the one Derek's been using to constantly pet Princess. Stiles' breath stops for a moment at the touch.

"Is this okay?"

"More than," Stiles admits, and watches with awe as Derek's eye sparkle under the waning sunlight, the way his mouth stretches further up into a grin, unabashed and unbelievably pretty this close up. Stiles forms a grin in response too. "So," he says, playfulness creeping away the shock. "Since I am her Tata... I vote to name her Princess Leia."

Derek's laughter in response echoes through the Loft, and Princess makes her displeasure known at the vibrations on her comfy spot by jumping onto Stiles' chest. They remove their hands at the movement, and Stiles puts his hands back on her, lets her burrow in his chest. She's already in his heart, anyways.

"Stiles," Derek says when he's calmed down, only a minute later. Stiles isn't even offended; The sound of Derek's laughter is like eating candy. Like pure bliss. "That's already her name."

Stiles blinks.

Derek calls, "Leia, come to dad," and she goes.

"I love you so, so, so much, you don't even know, Derek Hale," the words come out, and he... is not afraid they're out there, because Derek has, once again, Princess Leia on his chest, and his left arm comes around Stiles' shoulders to pull him in towards himself.

Derek kisses the top of his head, and Stiles melts, and he is a realist, so when Derek replies, "I love you, too, so, so, so much," he knows he's done for life.

Stiles' heart will belong to no other, but Derek Hale.

As if reading his thoughts, Princess Leia meows, and Stiles amends his mental declaration: his heart will belong to no other, but Derek Hale, and the family they create.

[branded-rose]

Adam sat upright in bed, a shout on his lips that dropped off as his wings shot out, smacking his lieutenant in the head and nearly pushing her off the mattress.

Lute met the rude awakening with all the urgency it deserved, springing up and drawing her fists in front of her defensively as Adam let loose a string of profanity.

She quickly drew up the blind to let light into the room before she darted around the bed; her eyes scanning the room quickly for signs of danger even if she knew there shouldn’t be anything. 

It was Heaven. What threat would there realistically be?

When she was satisfied she returned to the bed, about to ask her superior officer what sick joke he was pulling when she stopped.

Adam was pale, his hands trembling as he brought them up to wipe cold sweat from his brow. A string of curses still fell from his lips, albeit strained.

She tentatively reached a hand out, placing it gently on his shoulder.

“Uh… Sir?”

Adam flinched, turning his head to meet Lute’s concerned expression. He forced a smile and shrugged, trying his very best to play the whole thing off.

“What? Just a nightmare. Geez you’re acting like we’re being attacked or something. @#$%#@ relax.” He forced a laugh and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

Lute fell silent a moment, examining her commander closely. It wasn’t often she saw him so… uncertain. So shaken. Even in times he was unsure of himself he typically covered it up with bravado.

She scooted closer, pushing on his shoulder to encourage him to turn so she could realign some of the golden feathers in his wing that had dislodged when he’d struck her.

“What was it about?” Her fingers very delicately and precisely moved over the wing, sliding the feathers back into place and easing any discomfort. Something that was visible as she watched Adam’s posture relax.

“Just… human stuff. You wouldn’t get it.” He ran a hand through his messy hair.

“I was human once too.”

“Yeah well-“ He scratched the back of his neck, agitated. “-You wouldn’t get it. And besides that was @#$%#@ forever ago.”  

“You were an angel hundreds of years before I was.” Lute retorted.

“Yeah… and? What’s your @#$#@% point?”

The exorcist felt her eyebrow twitch, yanking on his wings to pull him towards her.

“You’re not the only one who understands the horrors of living.”

Adam paused for a long moment, considering his lieutenant’s words ever so briefly before turning so their faces were just inches apart. 

His expression softened. “I thought you were ‘reborn’?”

“I was.”

“So then when was the last time you had a nightmare?”

Lute’s jaw opened only to close again. She hadn’t had a nightmare in decades. Or if she had she couldn’t recall what it was exactly. Certainly nothing to startle her awake.

He turned away from her, pulling back briefly to rub his face.

“That’s what I thought. Must be nice.”

She watched him for an additional moment before she got up and closed the blinds, allowing the room to fall back into darkness.

“You should go back to sleep.” She uttered softly, her chin grazing against his shoulder.

“Hmm? Oh… yeah.” He waited for her to get comfortable before he drew close, his arms and wings wrapping around her small frame, almost protectively.

Possessively.

Lute settled into the embrace, familiar and warm as it was. She couldn’t help but smirk softly as she rested her chin on top of his head, his ear against her chest.

“Hey… Lute. You… won’t betray me or whatever, right?” He muttered softly, his tone laced with uncertainty.

Lute’s brows furrowed slightly, confused by the suddenness of the question.

“Of course not, Sir.” Her grip on him tightened ever so slightly, a small smile on her lips.

“…I wouldn’t dare.”

-------------------------

Idea/prompt from the amazing @kimik0hippie! Seriously, their stuff singlehandedly inspired me to come out of my 800000 year hiatus and actually do illustrations again. So please go check their art out. ;D

Adam & Lute © Vivziepop/A24

Artwork © Branded-Rose

[madschiavelique]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary : so you were called for back-up on a mission with gwen, hobie, pavitr and miguel. you get him out of a tight situation, he drags you in a dark street, you get back to the team, you get shot in the thigh, and miguel starts sucking on the bullet to get it out of your skin :D (or most simply, how you got wounded and miguel is playing healing vampire)

content warnings : blood, bullet (if there are others please do tell so that i can add them !), biting (literal), miguel licking you, no use of Y/N word count : 5,3k

note : the spider babies feel like a lil found family to me, so i had to make them goofy in this. i thought about miguel’s bites not only being poisonous, but also in another dosage a great pain killer (i have strictly no idea about how realistic all this is but here have fun reading this besties). this stands as the first part of a 3-shot that i am writing for my bday which is in 4 days hehe (crying), also i didn't proof-read this and english is not my first language :D, enjoy

chapters' list : 1 - lovebite 2 - late night training 3 - unexpected mission (nsfw) 4 - shameless (nsfw)

Although this wasn't your first mission, you couldn't help but feel like a frozen steak being thrown into a hot pan. You weren't always flung into the thick of the action, of course, but today you were, because you'd been called in as reinforcements with Pavitr.

Miguel had taken Hobie and Gwen on this mission, hoping to get Gwen more used to the terrain. You had arrived a little after her, and for the moment you had restricted access to the field. But today was clearly an exception. You and Pavitr had been called in as back-up, and you immediately took the portal to the dimension in question.

As soon as you emerged from the portal, your spider-senses alerted you to the need to throw yourselves to the ground to avoid the rush of bullets that had been fired in your direction. Exchanging surprised glances, you began to crawl to the side of the building that seemed to be opposite to where the incessant gunfire was coming from, hoping to avoid being riddled with bullets. Because although Swiss cheese was appetising, it wasn't in your plans to become one.

Pavitr tapped his watch.

"Miguel, we're here, where are-" but he had no need to ask the latter's whereabouts, since right in front of them swayed Hobie and Gwen, who seemed to be fleeing... A bride?

It was a bride armed with some sort of personally optimised cannon that was firmly strapped to her body, and if your instincts were right, it would appear that her ammunition was not as simple as that commonly sold, and you dreaded to know what would come out if she fired. She moved with a sort of jet-pack, following your friends at breakneck speed, her long white veil rippling like a trail left behind an aeroplane. Immediately, the two of you began to follow to join them.

"Hey, Hobie! Gwen! We're here!" you shouted.

Suddenly, the bride's head swivelled in your direction, her big red lips stretching into a smile as her eyes widened like two big marbles. Ouch, maybe shouting your presence in the middle of a fight wasn't the right decision.

You could already hear Miguel's voice echoing in your mind: "You should have taken advantage of the surprise and used it to your advantage instead of letting the whole town know that two Spider-Men had just joined the fight!"

But hey, what's done is done, and you'll certainly remember to be more observant on your next mission.

"Ah, Miguel's little minions have joined the party! Honey?" she shouted as you both reached Gwen and Hobie, "we've got some newcomers, I hope they're on the guest list for the ceremony. It would displease me greatly if we had to eliminate them just for that reason."

"After all, murder and marriage are the same if the two people know each other and it all ends in death," you say, your eyes falling for a moment on the absolutely enormous cannon she seems to have programmed to shoot you.

"Marriage is just another contract to life anyway," replied Hobie, to which you nodded sharply. "Anyway, with her chemtrail theory flying around behind her, I'm worried."

It seemed that the anomaly was not a single anomaly, but rather a couple of anomalies, which was probably why these two had been asked to provide support.

"Where's Miguel?" asked Pavitr, all still running.

"Oh bloke, you're not going to believe your eyes when you see him," sneered Hobie.

"What happened?" you asked.

"I took a few photos of the occasion," said Gwen, "but nothing beats seeing it for real."

A loud bang sounded, and you turned to see what had just happened. The face of the building you were standing on was melting: the bride had fired a bubble of acid that had burst against the wall and was biting all the adverts that were stuck to it.

"Destroying propaganda? Bonkers, I'm starting to reconsider this," Hobie huffed.

"Miguel's further down the avenue, on that street over there," said Gwen. "Go and see him before he comes, it's well worth a look.

When the mystery is too great, you don't dare disobey, so while they were busy evacuating more civilians to reduce the number of casualties from the mission, you set off in the direction you'd been told.

You swung out into the street, and as you rounded the corner, you couldn't help but stifle a laugh. The great Miguel O'Hara, the man at the head of the Spider Society, guardian and master of the inter-dimensional balance of events, was pasted up and looked like an Egyptian drawing in the process of running, or the typical chalk drawing you would draw on the ground at a crime scene, all covered in a gooey fluffy substance.

You swung over to him, and he noticed your arrival. You landed on the edge of the wall he was stuck on, biting your lip to stop yourself from bursting out laughing.

"If you want to say something now is the time to shut up." he said, teeth clenched.

"Gwen was right, it's definitely worth the trip. Comfortable? Need a magazine? A snack perhaps?"

"Hilarious, are you going to mess with me like this for much longer or are you planning to help me out of this situation?"

"My intentions were of a slightly more agreeable nature," you huff, walking towards him on all fours.

The substance surrounding him seemed to be a kind of solid foam that kept swelling slowly. You drew out your claws and began to cut the foam from his arm.

"Lovely couple over there, real synergy between the two of them. Shame almost half of marriages end in divorce."

"You get sentimental about enemies? Keep your sensitivity out of the fight and concentrate."

"Focus on foam? Honestly you know your Marshmallow Man costume lacks realism."

He let his neck tilt back until it touches the wall, murmured between his lips: "todos me vais a matar."

A small smile stretched across your face, the poor guy must have felt like he was babysitting, and although you were older than all the other teammates, hanging out with them brought out your absurd and more childlike side, your inner child in a way.

You managed to dislodge quite a bit of foam, but it was taking too long, it was thick and had the consistency of snow whose surface had crystallised.

"I'm pulling your leg, jefe" you say, the little use of the Spanish name making him react. What, You've got to make a profit from duolingo after all. " Okay, pull in your tummy."

"What?"

You raised your arm in the air, your claws extending a little further. Lately you'd been trying to see how far you could push the limits of your costume, and the increase in your claws was one of them. It was a bit painful, but if it meant Miguel could get out of this situation and get home safe, then you might as well take it. All you could hope for was that you wouldn't fail...

Then, with a sharp, wide stroke, you sliced through the foam. The cut was perfect, and Miguel, who was just as surprised as you were, popped out of his spot as if he'd just stepped out of a mould.

" Well," he turned to you, dusting off the few remnants of foam still clinging to his body, "observations?"

This was an exercise that Miguel inflicted on every recruit during their training or recruitment. It was simple: he selected a small anomaly to keep things simple, and asked the recruit what observations they'd make to neutralise the target. Except that, in this case, the anomaly wasn't so minor. You were racking your brains.

"I didn't see the husband, but I did see the bride. She's got a jet pack that should be neutralisable, it'll slow her down in her movements, but you'd have to aim carefully to do that. Her only power is her weapon, except that as it's attached to her it's going to be complex..."

Then you remembered her attire, and especially the long veil firmly placed on her head.

"Her wedding veil, you should be able to pull it down and hold it still."

Miguel nodded, you didn't know how to take the look he was giving you through the mask, but you hoped he was satisfied with the answer.

"The husband's pretty much the same, except-" but he didn't finish his sentence, suddenly grabbing your arm and pulling you instead into a much darker, narrower adjacent alley. He leaned against a wall, looking down at the street you had just left.

"Here's the husband," he murmured.

The suddenness of the gesture took you by surprise, of course, and you seemed unable to think straight. Not just because you were so close that your bodies were pressed together, but because all your senses, all your nerves, seemed to come together in one and the same place in your body, a place where it felt like sparks were flying: Miguel's hand was placed on your waist.

Through the thin but hard-wearing fabric of your suit, you could feel the heat from his fingers spread across your skin, sending a shiver down your spine and up to your neck and cheeks to warm them. His grip was firm on your flesh, and you tried to calm your breathing, which had been racing as fast as your heart at this closeness.

His second hand still had your arm in its embrace, and the simple thought occurred to you: what if his hand came down your arm to meet yours?

You looked up at Miguel's profile, watching the street you were on, alert. You took a deep breath as you watched him, his scent coming to you through the mask as earthy, pungent. And he turned his head towards you.

The distance separating your two faces was small, terribly small, and you wondered at that moment how the scene would have unfolded if neither of you had masks on. Would he have paid any attention to the way you were looking at him? Would those dark eyes have sparkled? Would you have been able to feel his hot breath on your face?

"Is everything all right? Your heart rate's increased."

The sentence refocused you for a moment as if you'd just plunged into icy water, your reverie no doubt perceptible through the suit. You lowered your eyes, glancing at the placement of his two hands on you, blinking rapidly as you tried to pull yourself together. Quick, an excuse, anything.

"The others," you breathed, using the card of concern for teammates, "I wonder how they're holding up."

"Uh huh..." he murmured, the answer only half satisfying him, his gaze piercing yours through his mask as you felt his hand tighten on your waist, another shiver running through your body. You didn't really understand why he'd maintained this seemingly intimate embrace, but to be honest, you weren't against the idea of this position for a few more moments.

It felt good to be like that, to share someone else's closeness.

He was so big, he seemed to engulf you with his size and thickness, looming over you, and so much strength and threat in one body aroused as much interest in you as it did fear.

Pull yourself together, for God's sake, what's Miguel, your boss? He's got better things to do than that, than get close to you, than get intimate with you...

He seemed to be inspecting you strangely, and the intensity of this gesture made you look down even more, the ground suddenly seeming very interesting to look at. But if he had anything to say on the subject, it could obviously wait until the mission was over.

"The way's clear, let's go," he says, finally letting go of his hold on you, "before these idiots do any more damage than they already have."

And with a thump, he pulled a web and propelled himself into the air. A gasp escaped your lips, the sudden sensation of not being touched leaving you feeling grey. You took a deep breath, trying to refocus your thoughts on the mission and not on the irreplaceable sensation that Miguel's hands had left on your body.

You dashed off in your turn, following him to join the others.

Not far away you could hear Hobie shouting: "They're pissing on us without even making us think it's raining!" Hobie, charming as always.

Needless to say, it was a fairground. Miguel threw a web in the bride's face and found the other three on a roof. Furious, he pointed his finger towards the corner of a building that was on fire, from the bottom of which civilians kept coming out, coughing, some even injured.

"Who did this?" he asked, his throat rumbling in frustration.

"You did," Hobie answered point-blank.

"Bravo," he growled sarcastically, "it's good to admit your mistakes."

"It's paradoxical communication," he informed you, avoiding a projectile that you couldn't identify, no doubt another munition of dubious composition from the bride's weapon, who seemed to be hurtling towards you with intensity.

" I Leave it to you for two minutes and you destroy everything," Miguel murmured as he began to run towards the enemy.

" Submerged by their numbers of two we couldn't do anything," pleaded Pavitr.

"Gobsmacked, maybe she's rebelling against a terribly phallocratic world," Hobie says as he dodges a huge snowball as big as himself launched from the cannon.

"Darling? Maybe it's time for dessert, what do you think?"

Shit, here comes the husband too. He was equipped with a jet-pack just like the groom, but his weapon was much less sophisticated than his wife's, a simple submachine gun, which didn't make it harmless, quite the contrary.

"Great idea! It's time for the icing on the cake," and with these words she seemed to throw portions of sweet and colourful cream towards your group.

"Come on, dance! Dance!" ordered the husband.

"No! I don't wanna dance, I'm from the town in footloose," you blurted out, trying to pull a simple web towards the cannon of the bride's gun.

You didn't succeed, but threw a second one anyway, taking the risk of standing still for a few moments to improve your aim. The web shot out and hit the barrel of the weapon. Yes! but the celebrations were short-lived, as a rush of bullets came crashing towards you, and even in your haste to escape, you were hit in the thigh.

A strangled little grunt vibrated against your teeth and lips, you didn't know exactly what it had struck in your leg, but the pain was sudden and stinging. Still, you followed the others a little, with difficulty. Every simple movement was a painful tug.

The group eventually stopped in an empty courtyard, to deliberate, talk strategy and how to organise themselves. The landing on the ground was a little abrupt, and you staggered back to your feet towards the group.

"Hey, you all right?" Hobie asked you.

"Never been better," you said, giving a thumbs up, your nose wrinkling at the next step.

"Are you sure you're okay? You're walking like a Disney witch," said Patvir, raising an eyebrow.

"Bollocks, your thigh!" pointed Hobie as he came towards you.

You looked down, the bullet had of course pierced the fabric of your suit, stretching the elastic material over your bloody thigh from the hole the bullet had punched in your thigh.

"Calm down," Gwen said in the distance, chatting to Miguel, "let me take care of this, Miguel."

"Like you've taken care of everything else so far, Gwen?" he said, his hands resting on his hips.

"Miguel?" called Pavitr.

"What do you want?" he asked as he turned his head suddenly towards where you guys were.

"Can't you answer 'yes' like everyone else?" gasped Pavitr.

But Miguel was already coming towards you, he must have seen the impact in your thigh.

"Nice icing on the cake, eh?" you said, laughing slightly at the situation. After all, ridicule poisons fear.

But the shots were already ringing out and they were coming towards you.

" Okay," breathed Miguel, "Hobie, Pavitr, Gwen, try to immobilise them. The husband is easy to neutralise, just hit his jet-pack and take away his weapon. For the bride, try to take her towards the river, if you make her fall into the water she will start to sink with all her layers of clothes and the weight of her dress. Pull her by her veil if you have to, but go ahead. The first one to do even a little unintentional damage again will end up with his back broken like a glow stick, got it?"

"I don't take orders," Hobie refused.

"Hobie, you take care of the bridegroom with Gwen," Miguel continued as if he wasn't listening to him any more, moving closer to you. He tossed him his multidimensional cell device, as if he was worth reaching for.

"Why does he only come and ask me things once a day, as if I were a vitamin?" Hobie huffs before launching himself into the air.

"Oh, you know, that's what we love about him, his boundless empathy," remarked Gwen before shooting a web and leaving in her turn.

"Why do I always get the less interesting ones," said Pavitr before leaving as well.

Miguel turned to you, taking off his mask. His brown hair was dishevelled and he didn't even put his hand through it before ordering:

"Sit.

You'd have liked to contradict him, to say that you could definitely wait until you got back to HQ and received treatment there rather than slowing down the mission when you'd literally been called in as backup. And here you were, the backup turned liability in the situation, so contradicting him wasn't really in your plans.

You backed away, leaning against the wall and letting yourself slide with difficulty against the bricks as you tried to put as little weight as possible on your damaged leg. With a muffled whimper, you reached the ground, stretching your bad leg further as you bent the other. You took off your mask in turn, no longer able to hide your expressions of pain. The sensation you'd had at first had been sharp, but now it felt like your thigh was on fire and the wound was licking at your skin like flames.

Miguel came forward and knelt beside you. His gaze was riveted on your thigh, and when his gloved hand came to rest beside the wound, you stiffened your back and couldn't help breathing in through clenched teeth. His brown eyes looked up into yours, watching your expressions through the wild strands of his hair. But it was also simply a look for permission to continue his gestures.

"If it hurts too much, use your mask," he said, his eyes returning to the wound.

The mask? In what way would the mask be- ah, so... You watched your mask, hesitating for a moment. What Miguel meant by that suggestion was biting your mask. Since you were probably going to grit your teeth, you might as well not hurt yourself too much and tear them up by biting into something. You wavered at the thought, preferring not to damage any more of your costume. You'd already dented it with your punctured thigh, but ripping your mask on top of that? No, preferably not.

His thumb felt your skin, and he pressed down on a spot that threw you so hard that your hand immediately grabbed his wrist. You were breathless, almost nauseous from the pain, and you opened your frowning eyes again to meet Miguel's gaze, which had stopped all movement of his hand.

You looked up at him, your eyes and nose stinging with the tears that threatened to spill from the pain. He breathed, his eyes falling on your hand, then straightened towards yours:

"If you don't let me touch it, I'll pin your hands down with my webs, is that clear?"

Biting the inside of your cheek, you let out a shaky breath and removed your hand, which seemed ridiculously small compared to his.

"Well, the bullet's really not deep, so it should be fine."

Honestly, you didn't know whether it was better for you to know what was going to happen, and you were somehow grateful that he wasn't detailing his operation to you, even though he was doing it mainly out of lack of time.

His two hands came to grip your thigh to hold it steady, he gave you one last look, then lowered his head close to your thigh, and you saw a flash of white gleam from his long, sharp fangs before they sank into your skin. A strangled cry drowned in your throat as you felt them ooze something wet, liquid seeping into your skin and blood.

Miguel's bites weren't just poisonous, they could also be incredibly helpful in situations like these, where they acted as both a mild painkiller and a kind of antidote that accelerated the healing process. And although the painkiller aspect wasn't performing well enough for your liking, you were still quite happy not to feel like you were in complete agony.

The sensation of his lips on your flesh, however, previously drowned out by the sensations of all your aching nerves, became much clearer. Their softness grazing your skin with more intimacy than he was aware of.

He hadn't bitten down on the wound, to prevent the bullet from moving any further, and you took a deep breath when he moved away, pulling his fangs out of your skin. His tongue cleaned them, and he glanced at you as he did so, just to make sure you were all right.

Please tell me I haven't become a big walking tomato, you thought. Now apparently the most important phase would begin: extracting the bullet. You bit down hard on your bottom lip, still feeling pain, then nodded to allow him to continue.

He bent down again, coming dangerously close to the wound, to your raw flesh where warm blood was dripping. The bullet wasn't far from the surface, luckily the suit had played a large part in cushioning it.

He breathed in lightly, then put his lips to the wound. A current of electricity ran through your body as all sorts of sensations mixed together in one place. The burn on your thigh had just met the slightly sticky wetness of Miguel's saliva and the warmth of his mouth and lips as he began to draw.

You realised what Miguel was doing, he was sucking the bullet out of your flesh. His tongue flicked lightly around the impact, and his fangs, still a little elongated, lightly traced your skin.

Your breath was erratic, and you tried to stabilise it, but the sensations seemed so extreme that the task was complicated. The thing about spider-senses is that your senses are heightened, so the slightest movement of Miguel's lips, tongue or fangs sent shivers through your body. He drew back to spit out the excess saliva and blood that had mingled before coming back and sucking harder. You could feel the bullet coming out little by little, still biting your lip fiercely until you felt a metallic taste, and were insistently reconsidering the choice of biting into your mask. So you switched to the side of your index finger, biting it as your frown of pain intensified.

Then Miguel pressed his lips a little harder, and your body had to grab hold of something. Then, inadvertently and with many mental 'oh no's attacking your being as soon as the gesture was made, you grabbed Miguel's hair.

His eyes immediately looked up at yours, wide, questioning the gesture, and the sight made you feel as if your heart had fallen into the warmth of your stomach. His brown eyes had a flash of red and peered through his long lashes, their colour blending perfectly with his blood-smeared cheeks.

You were so desperate for a foothold that your body hadn't given a second thought to what it should be gripping. He just froze, for a few seconds that seemed as long as minutes. You calmed your breathing, taking advantage of the respite from his movements to relax a little. Worried, you looked up at him again, dreading his reaction.

But nothing, no 'what the hell are you doing', no 'stop that immediately', no 'that's inappropriate', no reprimand, nothing. Your fingers in his hair relaxed, they were much softer than you'd imagined, but your hand didn't leave its place. You felt both his hands tighten around your thigh, making you swallow hard. He just gave you one last look before flicking his tongue around the wound and continuing his suction.

Your fingers reflexively gripped his hair again and Miguel let out a low rumble from his throat that vibrated up your thigh and into the bullet. The sensation was such that you suddenly turned your head to the side, closing your eyes tightly until you saw stars. The tears that had welled up started falling, determined.

Miguel's hot breath washed over your bare, rosy skin, turning visibly purple with the repeated suctions Miguel left in his path. His normal teeth were biting into your skin around the bullet to create the pressure that would eject it.

You locked your fingers in his hair again, and felt his hands tighten their grip on your thigh as a low hmpf vibrated against your skin again. Then he drew in harder, and pressed his teeth in deeper, and you felt your finger beading with blood as your teeth pierced your skin.

And then, at last, you felt the bullet come out. A deep sigh poured from your lungs as you eased your hand from his hair to wipe away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks. He stepped back, his eyes looking into yours, his cheeks and nose all covered in blood, and between his reddened teeth was the crushed bullet.

You looked at him like this, your cheeks heating up violently. He spat the bullet out to the side, then looked back at your thigh. He breathed heavily, clenching his jaw as he let go of your thigh, bringing one of his hands up to wipe his cheek with the back of it.

"Put some webs on it, that should be enough to last us until we get to HQ."

His eyes scanned yours, tired, reddened, a tear still running down them. He wiped it away with the back of his index finger, letting it fall onto the fabric of his suit. The gesture was gentle, almost like a caress as his finger gently traced your cheek.

"You did great, muñeca", he said, his voice soft, softer than you'd ever heard it.

The nickname gave you a warm, soft feeling in your lower stomach. He straightened up, his mask in hand, the other stretched out towards you, ready to be seized.

No comment on the pulled hair? You were afraid he'd mention it, or were you afraid he wouldn't mention it at all.

"Can you stand up?" he asked.

You looked at your thigh for a moment, then did as he instructed and pulled a few webs over the still open wound. Then, looking up, you grabbed Miguel's hand to help you up. You breathed through your teeth, the pain was still there, but now that the bullet had been dislodged and Miguel's pain-killing venom was coursing through your veins, the ache was lessened.

You were swaying slightly and Miguel's reflex was to place his hand on your waist to steady you. He gave a retentive tt-tt.

"Try to stick to the webs, do as little walking or running as possible," he said before putting his mask back on, which you in turn did. "Ready?"

You bobbed your head, putting your weight on your good leg, "ready.

With a nod, you both took off.

Soon you found Pavitr who had managed to catch the husband who, on closer inspection, had one of his eyes as white as a half-cooked egg. Perhaps this explained his random aiming. In any case, he was huffing and puffing like a rhinoceros.

"It's about time," Pavitr yawned, "your leg?"

You gave him a thumbs up.

" Where are Gwen and Hobie? " Miguel asked.

"Further down the river like you said."

"Well, you can go back to HQ, we'll take care of the rest- can you go on?" he said, turning to you.

"Yep, the only thing that could stop me would be myself."

"Was that the philosophical moment?" asked Pavitr. "That deserves a few lyrical songs, doesn't it?"

"It's pathetic," admitted Miguel as he left.

You followed him, Pavitr entering a portal to return to 928.

"Are you trying to destroy our pseudo-friendship?

"Pseudo-friendship?" he chuckles, "you mean how I removed that bullet with my teeth, and you-"

"Ah, the amnesia's getting to me!" you cut in, continuing along the road faster than him until you reach the river where, hanging from a lamppost on the quayside, the bride was dripping wet and stripped of her weapon. She seemed simply stunned, and Gwen and Hobie were standing in front of her, still tense from their fight.

You approached the two lads, smiling at Gwen who had finally succeeded in her training.

"Good job!" you said, raising your fist to her height, which she banged in a friendly manner, doing the same for Hobie.

"Hobie?" called Miguel in the distance.

"Don't move," said the latter, "it's like with bears, if you don't do anything they'll leave."

"This is the right way," affirmed Gwen.

"Where's the weapon?" asked Miguel, who had finally reached your level.

"It fell into the water," he replied simply.

"What?" asked Miguel.

"Relax, I'm just messing with you. It's behind you," he said, pointing with his chin at the wet weapon on the ground.

"So, how did it go?"

"I wouldn't go into details," Hobie sighed.

"What are you trying to accomplish here?" Asked Miguel.

"I don't want to listen to you; malicious criticism hurts my self-esteem and praise leaves me sceptical."

Miguel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, murmuring "Voy a matarlos."

"I hope one day you'll understand what I've just said," he whispered, climbing up the lamppost to unhook the bride and place her in another multi-dimensional cell.

"Did you hear anything?" you asked ironically.

"Oh no, I didn't hear anything, did you?" questioned Gwen to Hobie.

"I've got an ear infection."

You smiled at this conversation, watching Miguel fiddle with his watch.

"How's your leg, by the way?" asked Hobie.

"I've still got the bullet, I'm going to be ringing airport buzzers for the rest of my life."

"Huh?" exclaimed Gwen.

"Just kidding, everything's fine."

"Why do you have to be like that? In situations like this, 'I'm fine' is the standard response," she huffed.

"I'm on a strict diet of misplaced enthusiasm and gut-wrenching regret." You affirmed.

"Huh huh, diets are bad," Hobie remarked. "It's just another way for capitalism to prove that their system is superior to you."

"Well, come on, let's go home," Miguel called.

His eyes fell on you for a moment, and in the space of that glance the vision of his crimson eyes, his fangs glistening with your blood smeared across his cheeks came back to your mind. You entered the portal, and soon enough, as you got into the lift, the horizon formed as far as the eye could see, with towers sunk like daggers into the belly of the sky, and so high that, from sleep, you could plunge into the clouds.

And now you couldn't think of anything else but Miguel.

part two >> late night training

[wherenymphsroam]

“rough day?”

♱ it was a rough day. and you’re too pretty to resist.

♱ cw: afab reader but no gendered terms are used, degradation (he’s stressed n mean), boot humping, spit, D/S undertones

(can be seen as a bit dubcon but this was written with the implication of a pre existing free use dynamic in place.)

♱ a/n; need him to shake me around like a dumb puppy. maybe I wouldn’t be mentally ill anymore

The sound of the door slamming shut jolts you, heavy and resounding through the house. He doesn’t even bother to call out in greeting, the only form of signal you get that he’s coming towards you being the heavy footfalls of his boots against the hardwood floors. 

It was a bad day. 

The weight of his agitation dampened the air of the kitchen when he stopped in the doorway. You don’t have to turn away from where you’re wiping down the counter to know his typically bright blue eyes are hooded, clouded over with how intensely he was staring at you. 

“Leon…?”

You turn, all doe eyes and creased brows, questions on the tip of your tongue that you dare not let slip out. 

God, that pretty fucking face. Those sweet lips, the way your eyes brighten even under the shadow of the storm whirling through him. 

It made him want to ruin you. 

“Sweetheart… C’mere,” he murmurs, voice clipped with barely restrained agitation, white knuckled control. 

It wasn’t agitation at you, you knew that. Agitation was too often becoming a forefront mood for him lately, something you could only yearn to quell and quiet with each sharp, seemingly daily flare. 

Maybe that’s why you buckle so easily, feet carrying you over to stand before him before you can do much as blink. 

Because like this, if even just for a few minutes, an evening, you knew you quieted his mind, soothed his heart with the rush of hormones your body could coax out and flood him with.

“Rough day,” you murmur softly, gently. It’s a statement, the obvious dragged out in the open to settle thickly between you, like stretched taffy. 

He only nods. 

Nose flaring with the heavy exhale that leaves him, his thick lashes fluttering for a moment before he finally, finally dares to settle his clouded, unreadable eyes on you. 

“On your knees.” 

Realistically, it should be considered pathetic how quick you are to comply. How easily his words, his mere presence alone slips you out of that day to day awareness and high functioning state. Hell, it probably is pathetic, depending on who you ask. 

But could you really be blamed..? Leon was easily the most hardworking, selfless man you knew. God forbid you wanted to suck him off about it on a daily basis. 

Your knees settle on the cool tile of the kitchen, eyes obedient and bright, all but starry with anticipation when you gaze up at him. Hands laid flat on your thighs, your mouth already starting to salivate at the sight of his figure shadowing you… it would be an understatement to say that Leon’s self control was wearing thin. 

And quickly.

It was a tightrope between taking you right there on the floor like a damn rabid animal, and wanting to tear you apart piece by piece. He knew either option would make good on helping him to forget the horrors and stress of the past twelve hours, but as much as he was a man with needs, he was a patient one. And trying to balance the both of those facts, desperately and fruitlessly trying to get a read on him right now? It left you throwing arrows blindly against a dart board. 

Which is why it was a bit surprising when you found the hard toe of his boot sliding between your thighs, Leon’s idly hanging hands making no attempt to click his belt off making your breath hitch. 

“I don’t see why you even bother to wear these. The material is so thin,” he mutters, tilting his head in intrigue as he watches his boot settle against the clearly outlined shape of your cunt through the thin material of your shorts. The lounge shorts you insisted on parading around the house in, the ones that barely kept your ass contained.

“Can see your fucking pussy from here. Are you even wearing underwear?” 

The lilt of condescension in his voice directly betrays the look of faux boredom he was attempting to keep on his features. 

No. Ruined them by lunch thinking about you.

“T… They’re in the wash,” you meekly attempt to defend, swallowing thickly. Maybe like this you could act like you hadn’t become a depraved slut for him, you tell yourself.

His sharp eyes catch and follow the bob of your throat, the twitching of your fingers. 

Denying it even when you’re itching to touch me. Poor thing.

“Don’t bullshit me,” he scoffs, short and throaty, his lips briefly curling at one end. It was the closest to a smile you’d gotten out of him in a week. 

“Can feel you soaking through the damn things already. A shame your pussy’s more honest than you are,” he hums, crossing his arms. His toe rocks back and forth, short, concise motions that drag your clit with each sway, delicious and addicting. You’re far from reasonable right now, his words tearing through that flimsy wall of self respect. At least, your excuse for it, you supposed. 

Panting now, your neck gives way, leaving your forehead to fall and rest on his thigh. 

“Leon-” 

“Shut up and ride it,” he gruffly responds, dragging dirty fingers through your hair in a way that directly contradicts his harsh words. Even now, he was sweet in his caress. 

However, that sweet affection is quickly forgotten. All it takes is a meek nod of your head, a twitch of your thighs and a whimper escaping you to have his fingers tightening against your scalp, craning your neck back in a way that forces you to look up at him. 

“Open.”

Quickly obliging him, your lips part, tongue flattening when it comes into fire for him. He’s typically one to dance around the obvious, to tease you a bit.

Most often, his go to was to squish your cheeks, tell you how fucking adorable you look when you’re hungry for his spit. Maybe dragging the rough pad of his thumb along your lips, tracing the sweet shape delicately before he finally starts to gather your treat on his tongue.

But not tonight. 

Tonight, his thumb is hooking into the corner of your lips, muttering something about “we both know you can go wider” before he’s leaning down, spitting into the back of your throat. You damn near choke, sputtering for a moment before you recover. That is, just in time for him to pat your cheek once, twice — not enough to make it hot, but enough to sting, pleasantly so. 

His fingers tighten, digging roughly into your molars, using his grip on your jaw to shake you a bit like that of a dog with narrowed eyes, set lips. 

“Keep it in your mouth. Don’t wanna hear a damn word. You swallow and you don’t come tonight.” 

[bibliophilesince2003]

Transformers One In-Depth Review

Transformers One is a must watch.

I’m tired of seeing a bad review go towards a movie that is actually extremely well done, especially if the reviewer hadn’t taken the time to watch it or considered the trailers enough content to draw a review from.

Seriously, it was so refreshing to see a new take on a franchise that has been around for years. In my personal opinion, it’s better than re-makes that offer even less room for creativity.

I am a huge Transformers fan. I grew up with Transformers Prime, and when I was older, I watched the movies. I’ve watched other shows here and there, and while I may not be a complete expert, I know the lore well enough to have been heavily, emotionally impacted by Transformers One.

I’ll start with the "non-spoiler take" followed by the "spoiler take” which will be “hidden” for those who do not want to be spoiled.

"Non-spoiler" take...

Peter Cullen’s voice is legendary. Chris Hemsworth himself acknowledged this in an interview, mentioning that the goal was to “re-create” and “do something new.” He intended to represent a “youthful, brash, and cocky version” of Orion Pax before he was known as Optimus Prime. This is a realistic representation. In Transformers Prime, Ratchet states that Optimus Prime was more like Jack in his youth. For those of you who don’t know, Jack is a strong-willed, selfless, but slightly impulsive teenager, as all teenagers should be. It is clear that Hemsworth has evaluated “hints” that other movies and shows have provided. Hemsworth wanted to “lean into” a more serious voice towards the end of Transformers One. He insisted “he wouldn’t dare mimic Peter Cullen.” I highly respect his choices, and he does not deserve the amount of hate thrown at him. Now, Orion Pax also comes across as a humble, soft-spoken character in other movies and shows. However, I can see why they would lean into his impulsiveness to better highlight and contrast the relationship between Orion Pax and D-16, especially as D-16’s true colors show. More about that in the “spoiler” section, though!

No, it would not have made sense for Orion Pax to have a deep, majestic voice. That comes with experience; that comes with hard decisions. Quite honestly, Hemsworth is pretty close to what I had imagined Orion Pax to sound like. It’s still slightly deep, and very soothing.

The character development in this movie? Oh. My. Word. Guys, as a writer, I can say that subtle character development – the best kind – is not easy to do. In Transformers One, it flowed naturally. It made me smile. It broke my heart. If you’ve seen other Transformers movies and shows, brace yourself. If you haven’t, still brace yourself. Again, more about that in the “spoiler” section.

The humor in the trailers has been re-posted so heavily I think it’s beginning to lose its effect and people, not knowing the context, are quick to judge. Yes, Bee is funny. It’s Bee. He’s supposed to be lovable, humorous, loyal, and powerful. I found no issue with most of the humor coming from him. There is more humor that is not mentioned in the trailers that is really worth chuckling over.

Finally, the fight scenes were clean, the animation was captivating, and the incredible Brian Tyler produced musical masterpieces for most every scene, some of it connecting to other movies and shows.

"Spoiler" take, now!

I expected to dislike Elita. Really, I did. I knew she was the “love interest” for Optimus Prime beforehand and expected big things from her, because Optimus Prime never struck me as having a “love interest” in the past. Not only that, but I expected her to be the female character I seem to find everywhere these days who strives to be better than everyone else without a lick of experience, complaining about the male figures in her life.

Elita, however, is ambitious. She leads. She doesn’t have to prove anything; she’s simply willing to work hard and do her job. Understandably, she gets upset with Orion Pax and the others when they interrupt her progress, though I can’t help but be amused by Orion Pax’s shy attempt to get her attention and adored his subtle acts of kindness. Sure, she’s a tad bit aggressive – she did punch Orion Pax, after all – but I really enjoyed seeing her adapt. When Orion Pax was feeling hopeless, she was there to encourage him. If she had stopped talking immediately after saying “I’m better” I would have been frustrated. Orion Pax and D-16 are the main characters in Transformers One, after all. She didn’t stop there, though. She highlighted the most important aspects of Orion Pax; his good heart, selflessness, and bravery. She told Shockwave and the others to shut up and listen to Orion Pax when they doubted his plan. She encouraged him to speak louder when others couldn’t hear him. She leaned towards the pit when Orion Pax fell.

Not only that, but Orion Pax was incredibly patient with her. He woke her up when she was unconscious and immediately took a punch to the face like a champ. He gently, subtlety smiled at her when they traveled to the surface and Elita announced "it's beautiful." He cried out her name and pushed her out of the way to save her during a battle. He listened to her. He told her to beat Arachnid “gently” when Elita managed to detain her, proving he fully understood Elita’s personality.

I’m sorry, but this kind of relationship takes the cake. If they’re meant to be a couple, I can see the signs. I love how well they work together and build each other up.

Bee is an icon. One of my favorite scenes is him eagerly saying to Orion Pax “I’m going to go cut these guys up, watch! C’MERE!” It’s like a proud kid trying to get their parent to watch. I love how loyal he is to Orion Pax right off the bat.

While they changed some lore in Transformers One, they included everything that was important. Orion Pax and D-16 are miners, but it seems Orion Pax may have been a clerk beforehand. When he broke into the archives, he seemed to know where he was going. When he ran, I can’t remember exactly, but I believe he was muttering numbers? I don’t mind the small twists and can see how they were necessary for the story; key details are kept.

Jazz and Ratchet mention! I was so excited to hear their names. Kind of wish they had shown Ratchet, maybe shouting “I needed that!” to a fumbling worker. Sorry, Transformers Prime reference.

Arachnid had an incredible design.

Sentinel is a well-written, hate-worthy villain. I… did not expect D-16 to rip him in half, though.

Also… can I just mention how epic that particular scene was? The switch from D-16 reaching his peak character development – showing no mercy – while Orion Pax reached his – making the ultimate sacrifice to preserve life and do things the right way; receiving the Matrix of Leadership. The music, the animation, the slow-motion… everything was incredibly cinematic.

Obviously, D-16 took things too far. I appreciated the fact that he didn’t just wake up one day and decide to be evil. It took time. It took motivation. Obviously, any sane person would stand with Optimus Prime, though he does make mistakes from time to time, but it was incredibly neat to actually appreciate D-16’s insight in the beginning, then notice the shift and feel every bit of emotion Orion Pax felt.

People say the ending is rushed, or that D-16’s change came too abruptly without any good motivation. Sure, the ending may be a little rushed, but movies are typically structured this way. Falling action does not have a set speed; it just needs to be well done. Bad things happen in a rush, and this leaves ample opportunity for the “good guys” to react a little too slowly. As for D-16’s motivation… even a person can take their worship of an item or figure too far. Megatronus was someone to look up to in D-16’s eyes. He agreed to Orion Pax’s plans, or at least tolerated them, but his admiration for Megatronus was his own interest. Orion Pax threatened that vision. D-16 wanted to kill Sentinel to satisfy his own needs and desires, not to liberate others. Sentinel deserved death after committing murder, yes. He didn’t, however, deserve a public execution, especially as he tried to get away and was relatively defenseless. Remember, Sentinel told D-16 and Bee that he would execute them in front of everyone. We can acknowledge his promise as brutal, so shouldn't D-16's actions be considered brutal, too? No "reason" could ever justify it.

When D-16 let Orion Pax drop, he proved he no longer cared about loyalty. The least he could do was hoist Orion Pax’s body up or break down after losing what he once called his best friend, but he didn’t.

It’s ironic… D-16 said “I’m done saving you” when in reality, Orion Pax was trying to save D-16 from doing something he knew D-16 should have regretted doing. Normally, yes, D-16 is the voice of reason, but not in this case. For once, this is where Orion Pax’s true personality shines through. His spark – the spark of a Prime – is in the right place. Orion Pax puts joking aside when serious matters arise. It seems D-16 didn’t really know his friend after all. The actions D-16 committed, my friends, are not actions you want to celebrate.

I really, really hope Transformers One gains more attention. We need the sequel! Transformers fans, tell your friends. Give an honest review, which are of more value than the reviews given by those who didn’t take the time to watch it. Hype it up and roll out!

[simpjaes]

now that I have had the time to actually think and write out my feelings, here's what i stated earlier except worded better because every time i read my original post about the situation, it doesn't get my message across.

Despite me only having one (now deleted) work dedicated to that piece of undeserving shit, Moon Taeil, I will no longer be writing for nct, period. [ referring to ao3 and ncteez]

One reason being that as much as I enjoyed writing for NCT and as much as I adore(d) the members, I cannot realistically know who was or was not aware of what Taeil was doing. I am not saying that they were well aware and swept it under the rug, I am simply stating that as much as I hope they didn't know, I am no longer comfortable as a fan because it is unlikely that we will ever be able to do anything more than speculate. My second reason being that I have grown a lot as a person and have drifted from NCT in the past half year. The news we all came online to today was something that ultimately made me stop clinging. 

Additionally, i want to remind you all that I will never judge you for continuing to support NCT, but I will judge you if you continue to support Taeil.

I sincerely hope the victims who were hurt by him are not only finding joy in his downfall, but healing. It's not easy to heal from such a thing, as so many of us have experienced it ourselves, but I do hope that seeing justice will make those wounds a little easier to handle. And if you're a fan, or biased Taeil previously, remember that you should not feel guilty or bad for loving him before this. It was his job to be lovable and to be seen in his best light. He manipulated many people but let's hope that he can no longer do that.

fuck moon taeil. 

and just to add, i see people on twitter saying "i heard from somewhere blah blah blah" and "my friend said she saw taeil do this" etc. do not take these things random fans are saying and treat them as truth. we are well aware that taeil has done something awful but I want to make it very clear that with each new allegation that ends up being false, people may begin to question and downplay the whole situation. I'm talking "well this was proved false so clearly he's innocent with the other things too!" etc. DO NOT BELIEVE WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING IF THEY DO NOT POST SOURCES FROM LEGITAMATE PLACES. I know we are all angry and hurt, but get your information from trusted sources, not the person with a haechan pfp on twitter trying to express their anger by spreading information that could, ultimately, take awareness away from the real victims and/or make people second guess the investigation as a whole.

[jesswritesthat]

Miya Osamu: Slammed

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~0.7k, fluff, humour

• First aid was not where you expected to be, and that’s only your first encounter with the famous Miya twins.

Warnings: Swear word, a nosebleed

>>>>——————————>

Osamu has waited for this moment all his life, in fact he's surprised it hasn't already happened multiple times - but it's one thing to cross off of his bucket list.

Atsumu slams a volleyball into a the face of a beautiful person.

More accurately: Atsumu looks like a damn fool in front of a beautiful person.

It's the sheer grovelling, combined with painful stammering that has Osamu smirking like a madman. Honestly part of him knows he should be more considerate but this was Atsumu he's talking about, he's got to take joy in the little things (like his twins' overwhelming panic).

Osamu made his way over to his counterparts’ heavy but hilarious mistake, the person the Inarizaki setter hit soon discovered to be you.

With a hand covering your nose you consistently batted away the incessant fretting of the blonde twin who looked like he was about to cry. Mortified was an understatement.

"I'm so sorry! God I just caught the ball wrong and it went spinning at ya'. Are ya alright?"

"I'm fine, let me—"

"Ya not! Ya might be bleeding, lemme just—"

"Tsumu!" The second a hand lurched the blondes shoulder, he was gone and replaced by a far calmer silhouette.

"Allow me." A palm was offered toward your upper arm but halting before touching you until you nodded. "I'm gonna take you to the locker room, ya won't be bothered by annoying brats whilst we check ya over."

So you allowed the other Miya twin to guide you in the direction of their club room whilst ignoring the volatile comebacks he'd received from the blonde.

"Am I supposed to be in here?"

"I think our Captain will let it slide considerin' yer condition." Osamu calmly answered, more occupied with reaching for the first aid box on top of a locker set.

"My co—" Just as you'd said that, you'd noted the smears of scarlet painting your hand once removing it from your face. "Oh damn."

"That's all yer got to say?" There was a hint of amusement there as he sifted through the first aid kit acquiring necessary materials.

"You're not bothered by blood?"

"Nah, seen enough of it fighting with 'Tsumu. Anyway, can I sort it out for ya?" Before you knew it he was knelt before you with material perched between his fingers - almost as though proposing to you with a cotton ball. Shaking that left field thought away with an embarrassed smile you stuttered your reply.

"Uh sure, thanks."

That's how you ended up alone in the VBC locker room with Miya Osamu caressing your face with far gentler touches that you believed him capable of despite the contrasting sting of antiseptic. Realistically, you couldn’t blame yourself for getting lost in a fantasy…

"Your eyes are like melted platinum."

But you’d defiantly blame that stupid spoken comment on the hit to the face. What were you thinking?!

"What?"

Already you were out of his reach, one step from the door only spinning around in surprise to reply to him.

"I said I feel better, gonna go—"

"Wait up."

"Hm? Oh does it look it good?" You felt it was painfully obvious you were putting on a carefree facade, especially when you playfully posed to emphasise the nose plaster with a pretty smile.

"Somethin' like that."

Then you were gone, hand covering both your taped nose bridge and your heated skin from the remnants of Inarizaki. Atsumu was quick to skid into your path and catch you in his arms though - another apology on his tongue.

"I'm all bandaged up, please don't worry!"

"Lemme make it up to ya though—"

"Aha no need, just win the next game. Bye!" You'd slipped around him, seemingly in a rush to escape but the setter was distracted by the reappearance of his twin.

"What did ya do in there?! (L/n) ran out like lightning!"

"D'ya think my eyes are like platinum?"

"Huh?! I think ya blind dumbass!"

"I'm not the one who took out..." How did he not ask your name?! "Tell me ya know who that was!"

"Dunno, why'd you care so mu— oh ya caught a crush huh?" Admittedly Atsumu was caught off guard by the sudden demand but that was quickly replaced with teasing intuition.

"No idiot, ya should check on 'em tomorrow if yer not a complete asshole."

"I was gonna anyway!"

"Liar." A dangerous glare was sent toward his twin, Osamu already one step ahead. "Ya don't even know who they are."

"Yes I do, I'll prove it ‘Samu."

Now he could just let Atsumu do all the work, but then a concerning thought crossed his mind, and he couldn't help his next challenging words.

"Not if I find 'em first."

<——————————<<<<

[unspeakable-imagination]

Hey pookie bear 🐻, would you mind dropping a nsfw and a sfw alphabet headcanon for our Wolverine?? Also I wanted to tell you that all the love and support you are getting is because you deserve it and because your work is amazing!!! I really hope that you are also enjoying support and love you are getting from all your fellow x-men simps ( I think this should be the fandoms name lol) 🩵🩵🩵💛🩵🩵🩵

Logan Howlett SFW Alphabet

Oh my goodness ofc pookie. I'll post the nsfw one later but for now, enjoy

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

If your not in a relationship, good luck. Logan has the hardest time showing affection towards anyone because of how scared he is to love them. If you, by some type of gods given grace, have ended up in a relationship with him, it's like the flip of a switch. Constant PDA, hands of your hips, you back your shoulders, slung around you in any way he can to show that you're his. Maybe not so much as kisses unless he's jealous. If he's seen another man looking at you, talking to you, or if he thinks thag you're even in their thoughts, he's going to rub their nose in the fact you're with HIM, not them. Kissing you, pulling you onto his lap while he sits, and even taking his time to occasionally run his hand up and down your sides.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Logan would probably form a friendship with you through training Jr fighting in a ring. The most tell-tail sign that he considers you a friend is if he's offering you a drink or favors. Need that picked up from town while he's out? He's on it. Can't lift that specific thing? Consider it done. He won't say anything about it. He just kinda does it. He tried nit to expect anything in return.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Absolutely, especially in a relationship. On the couch, on a bed during movie night. If he's really feeling it, he'll even wrap an arm around scott.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

The idea of a domestic lifestyle terrifies Logan since any time he's tried it, it's ended in the death of a lived one. He truly does crave having a good sense of normalcy, but at this point he probably sees himself as to messed up to have it. Logan would cook for you but cleaning is something he won't touch with a ten foot pole.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Logan would usually rather die than break up with the person he loved, but if he's fallen out of his attachment (which usually doesn't happen) then he would likely be the kind of person to move out and say "Hey, sorry I can't do this anymore."

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

As mentioned before, Logan isn't really feeling like he deserves any time of long-lasting relationship. He really does want it though. To be able to achieve it would take atleast a couple of years, realistically a 6 mo- a year to even realize he's into you like that.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Logan is really abrasive and isn't the kind of person tnag would really be gently. He usually says it how it is or how he really feels. If you really get on his nerves he gets snappy and doesn't always think his words through. Actually, he never does. If your in a relationship, he'd try to take that into consideration, but you'll have to ask and warn him first.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Hugs take time, and I don't think I can stress it enough. And once you reach a point that he'd even enjoy hugs, he'd still be shocked. You could grab him and hug him and he'd just stand there awkwardly for like 5 seconds before even putting an arm around you and hugging you back.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Logan will probably never want to say it, because that makes it real, and if he really loves you then he thinks you'll die. He tends to Rey and show it through tou actions, but you you have a stable relationship that you explain you need thoes verbal affirmations, he's on it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Logan gets jealous if someone even looks at you wrong, or if someone has what he wants. He gets salty if he doesn't have it, or flaunts it if he does.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

This man loves to kiss his partners and even familial people on their forheads. He's got a kid.? Kiss them on the forehead. He's got a wife? Forged kisses every morning. He's got a best friend? A little iffy.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Logan doesn't want to admit the soft spot he has for children, especially his own if 2017 means anything. They do have to kinds work their way in, but once they worm their way into his heart he's as good as a babysitter. He might gwt a little stressed, though.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Logan loves having coffee, Cigars, or even a whiskey on the rocks on a balcony in the forest. Alone or with a partner, he doesn't really mind all that much.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Logan has a hard time going to sleep and staying asleep, but will cuddle you like his life depends on it, taking care to place his hands in a way that he wouldn't stab you if a nightmare were to occur.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I think that his past and trauma would kinda be drip-fed to any friends, but in a relationship, anythingbtaht bothers him he will vent about, usually with a drink and a smoke. He will ramble, holding you close and using you as a calming agent while he tells you about his day.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

It's very dependant, so situational. This could go wither way. He could blow up or he could be begging to have a good talk, but ultimately, he does end up having a lower tolerance. He could be patient for a bit, but after that it's like a bomb timer.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Logan remebers EVERYTHING down to that one time you liked the way that that one blade of grass waved in the wind on may 14th 20xx.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He loves to flaunt the story of how you two got together and met or a first date. Catching you is usually his favorite memories.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Logan cannot stand the idea of you being in danger for him, but he'll willingly put himself in a position to be atomized, vaporized, castrated, or killed just to see you safe and smiling.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Depends on the kind of tasks. He doesn't like most housework but if you need the help, he's usually there. He likes to bring you breakfast in bed on any important day.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Logan is disgusted by the fact that gets a tendency to look down on some of the people that he loves. He starts treating them like their children, and like they can't care for themselves because. If they can... then is he really needed? Dude has the most isecure attachment style known to man.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He knows he's hot and that's that. Otherwise he doesn't care.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He probably would feel a little incomplete even with you, it would always linger in his mind if it's the right choice and if it will turn out okay, but you definetly help fill the hole.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He totally picks his nose every once in awhile and wipes it on his pants but only like once a month max. Very rate and never around somebody.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Can't stand someone who doesn't like forests. He can't stand cities and even more so, he can't stand living in a city or crowded areas for to long. If you want to stay in the city, it's a deal breaker.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Aside from his nightmares, if he's not sleeping with a partner, he will cuddle his pillows. He also drools and snores and starfishes.

[arcadia-of-pluto]

"Pragma(tic) Love" || Xavier (M)

Pragmatic; meaning "dealing with things sensibly and realistically".

Pragma; one of the eight ancient Greek words for love, meaning "an enduring type of love". A passionate and committed form of love.

Paring(s); LADS Xavier x reader

Word count; 12,398 (GEEZ–)

Rating; 18+ for mature and sexual context; and swearing

Themes; childhood friends to lovers, unintentional flirting, reader isn't an idiot (sometimes), dumb humor, inspired by the webtoon "Childhood Friend complex"

Notes; some dumb humor, Xavier being out of character, kissing, poorly written sex (I haven't written smut in so long), vaginal penetration (finger and p), I could've done more but my Tumblr mobile app is lagging at 12k words–

Characters included; Tara, Jenna, Rafayel, Yvonne, Greyson (mentioned), Jeremiah, anyone else is just random names for other characters!

|| a part of the "tropes d'amour" mini-series ||

|| Main Masterlist ||

You are a rather naive and impulsive woman, no one would argue with that. You knew what you wanted and you were never embarrassed to admit that. Always head-strong and never thinking about the consequences of what comes afterward. You have, also, never been in a relationship, but you can remember the first time you really wanted to be in one.

It was a few years back when you were in middle school. Fifteen and highly impressionable. You were staying the night at a friend's house with a couple of other girls and they decided to have a group viewing of some x-rated videos. Even at fifteen, this was something you never thought of so as you watched with a mix of horror and intrigue, your friends eagerly laughed and made different comments about how hot the actions in the videos were. You, however, were more focused on the kissing scenes. You enjoyed how passionate they looked and you wondered if a kiss would be as nice as it looked. To this day, you barely remember the rest of the video. Only the kiss scene that left an impact on you and made you wish for a relationship, just to have a kiss like that.

Though, back in the present day at twenty-one, you had bigger things to worry about. Like college work and the new gossip your friends had every week.

For example, today, you and your group of three other women were all sitting down in a coffee shop, talking about the different guys at your college. “Oh my god, have you seen how hot Rafayel is? We have two of the hottest guys at our college and I don't see how neither of them are dating anyone,” Yvonne says with an over-dramatic sigh as she tilts her head back. “If I'm honest, their hands are what I'm more interested in,” Jenna murmurs under her breath with her chin resting on her hand. “Hands?” You take a look down at your own as you ask and Yvonne slaps her hands down on the table. “You don't know about hand sizes?! If they have big hands they have a big d–” “Yvonne, we'll be kicked out if you're too loud.” Tara puts a finger to her lips as she looks around anxiously.

“Alright, alright.” Yvonne pouts and sits back down. “Anyway, as I was saying, our college has two of the hottest guys I've ever seen. I'm surprised none of them are dating someone. I'd definitely volunteer in a heartbeat.” “So…I was going to ask this earlier, but who's the second guy?” You ask and tilt your head to the side. “Xavier, of course!” Yvonne looks at you as if you're crazy. “You know, the 6 foot something hunk who is in the engineering department?”

Tara covers her mouth with a hand to hide her laughter as your group leaves the café with your drinks in hand. “Xavier? Are you serious?” You scoff with a hand on your hip and your drink out to the side. “Doesn't he give off, like…delinquent vibes or something? You should really have higher standards.” “Y/n…” Yvonne trails off, pointing at something behind you and you raise a brow, “What's wrong? Can't I talk shi–” You feel pressure on the crown of your head and when you look to the side, you see someone dip their head down to take a sip from your straw. “Ugh, this tastes like shit. You're still drinking crap like this?” You spot the silvery-blonde sticking his tongue out in disgust before you groan and hit him on the head.

“Xavier, what have I told you about sneaking up on me!?”

As the two of you yell and pull at each other's hair, Yvonne takes a nervous glance toward Tara. “They…” “They've been friends since childhood,” Tara says with a small laugh, rubbing the back of her neck.

You don't exactly keep it a secret that you're friends with Xavier. The two of you are just from two completely different departments. His being engineering and yours in liberal arts. You did, however, want to start putting some distance between him since no guys approach you. They always assume you're dating Xavier, even if you correct them, so if you ever wanted a relationship you'd have to distance yourself from him…but that's easier said than done since your mothers were friends.

Your mothers were pregnant at the same time, having met during a pregnant yoga class and coincidentally moved in next to each other, so naturally you and Xavier were practically raised together. You’d even go as far as to say he's like a brother to you.

Back in class, you're utterly exhausted. You rake your hand through your hair with a sigh, holding your face in your hands until you feel someone tap your shoulder. You look up, confused, before you smile up at him, “Hey, Rafayel. What's up?” “You seemed a bit upset, so I was gonna ask if you needed help with something,” the purple haired upper-classman says, his head tilting to the side. “Actually…I need some research files for our essay and I don't have nearly enough time to get everything together.” You collect your things and stand up from your chair, “but I'll figure it–”

“You can borrow my USB,” Rafayel offers, slinging his back over his shoulder. “We'll just have to stop by my dorm.” “Really? Thank you so much. You're a life-saver!” you clasp your hands together. Your facial expression looks a lot brighter, compared to a few seconds ago. “Can we go now? I'm really excited to get started on this project.”

The two of you leave your classroom and head off to his dorm. You were done with your classes for today, but you were a little worried you'd be bothering Rafayel during his off time. Though, it doesn't seem that way since he offered to help you and you don't want to overthink anything.

“I'm sorry if it's a bit messy.” He unlocks his door before opening it. A…bit messy was an understatement. His floor is littered with paint tube lids, a few stray clothing items, a colour pencil or two, there's a spot on the rug from a charcoal pencil. It's extremely messy, but it's the room of an artist so you weren't really sure what to expect. As you step deeper into the room, you're unsure of where to sit until Rafayel points to a spot in front of his bed. “You can sit over there. I have a few USBs so it might take a little time to find it.” He chuckles, seemingly unfazed at how dirty his room really is.

You tentatively sit down and hug your knees to your chest as Rafayel sits next to you with a handful of USBs. As he looks through them, your eyes can't help but be drawn toward his hands. His…hands..That reminds you of something. What was Yvonne trying to say earlier?

“If they have big hands, it means they have a big di–” A big…oh.

Rafayel's hands were big…

You pause your train of thought with wide eyes. “Y/n?” The upper-classman asks, waving his hand in front of your face. You blink a few times, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you quickly stand up and grab a random USB. “Thank you so much, Rafayel, but I've got togonowbye!!”

You don't even give him a chance to respond as you run out of his room. You pull out your phone to quickly shoot a few texts to Xavier.

🩷: “HEY I HAVE A QUESTION”

: “ANSER ME”

: “WHAT DOES IT MEAN IF A GUY HAS BIG HANFS??”

:“XAVIER, I SWEAR TO GOS”

Your stupid, dumb, idiot friend isn't responding, so you decide the best thing to do is barge into his house. You take a few labored breaths, having run all the way through his house and to his bedroom door, before you enter without even bothering to knock. It's not like he could be doing something important, right? Nahhh.

The moment you step into his room, you notice two things. One, he had your messages with your profile picture up on his computer monitor…and two, he has his left hand wrapped around his dick.

“Why the hell is my picture on screen!?” You blurt out the first thing you can think of in your panic as you quickly look away with a red face.

“It's not–” Xavier quickly turns away from you before noticing that your picture was, indeed, on his screen. He scrambles to his feet to fix his pants before words spill from his lips, “It's not like that! I was just…getting off and you were getting on my nerves from all your messages and I noticed you had a new profile picture, and I wasn't even looking at your picture when I was doing it anyways!” His face and ears are a deep shade of scarlet, and you shoot him a scrutinizing look.

“Look, I'm not going to judge you but…” Your lip curls up as you can't decide whether you're disgusted or flattered, but the expression quickly leaves your face as you notice his eyes watering. Is he…crying?

“I already said it's not what you think…”

For the first time in forever, your mind was dead silent. You were a little too focused on the redness in his face and the desperation in his eyes. You needed to leave. Now.

“I'll talk to you later, but seriously don't forget to lock the door next time!” You say your words way too fast, almost unable to understand them yourself, and dart out the house as fast as you can. You only stop once you made it to the gate outside, holding a hand to your chest with reddened cheeks. What the hell just happened?

The next day in class, you're beyond zoned out. You're not sure what to think of the whole situation…but you clearly saw it. His…well yeah. You could faintly picture his hand, fingers that could just barely wrap around his girth-

You smack your hands against your cheeks, snapping yourself out of your thoughts. “Jesus, Y/n! Are you okay?” Tara asks with a small laugh, putting a hand on your shoulder. You groan and tilt your head back before quickly turning to face her. “Okay, so I have a…story. Alright? This isn't about me. It's about a uh– a friend.” “Uh-huh…and what happened with this friend?” Tara raises one of her eyebrows as she looks around the classroom.

“Actually, let's have this conversation outside.” She stands up, picking up her bag before she takes your hand.

Once outside, you sit down on a bench and take a deep breath. “Okay so, this friend of mine…she has a friend she's known for a long time and she ended up seeing his..” you trail off, not wanting to say the word, but you have to say something to make any sense, “..his junk. She saw his stuff on accident and there was a photo of her on his screen-”

“Wouldn't it just make sense to apologize and act like nothing happened?” Tara questions, honestly a bit confused since it seems like it would be common sense to just apologize about it. “But my picture was on the screen. Wouldn't that mean he's into me or something?” You don't even notice your slip up and Tara doesn't care since she already knew this story was about you. “It could mean that, but how about you just hear him out and apologize?” The woman rubs her temples. She loves you to death, but sometimes you can be a little dumb.

“I guess I could do that– hold on, I'll be right back!” You spot Xavier in the distance, quickly putting on your bag before you chase after him. “Xavier!” You shout and the silvery-blonde turns to look at you for a moment. Then, he takes off running as well. “Hey, I need to talk to you!” You yell after him, continuing the chase but you were honestly tired at this point. He clearly wasn't slowing down anytime soon. “Why are you running?” You feel sweat dripping down your temple and he shoots the same question back at you, “Why are you running??”

“Because I need to talk to you!” Your breath was coming out in heavy pants and wheezing, so you probably look a bit crazy at this point. “Well I don't!” “Dude, stop–” As you chase after him you bump into another student. His cold brew coffee spilling all over the front of your white t-shirt. You notice Xavier immediately stops in his tracks.

“Damn it–” You curse under your breath before you turn toward the male student, “Hey, I'm sorry about your coffee!” “It's fine, what about your shirt? You could just give me your number and I could get it washed..” His eyes were clearly trained onto the front of your shirt and you made the horrifying realization that your black bra is visible. Suddenly, a bag is pressed against your chest and you feel a hand grab your wrist. Xavier sighs and begins tugging you behind him as he walks, “Let's go.”

“Go where?” You ask, clearly confused and he shakes his head, squeezing his hand around your wrist, “To the sport's center.” “Dude, you're hurting my hand!”

Xavier takes you to the sports center's locker room and is looking through his locker. “So..what're we doing here?” You stand in the corner with his bag still clutched to your chest. You can hear him let out an audible sigh, “Do you want to walk back to your dorm with your shirt like that?” “You could've just let me borrow your bag..” you murmur with a pout, but Xavier runs a hand through his hair, “You can see everything through the back too, idiot.”

“Thanks..” You finally say after a moment of silence before you set his bag on the floor to look at your shirt. You tug at the soaked fabric with a finger, your nose wrinkling up at the cold feeling. You should probably take it off before it gets your bra and skin all sticky..You pull your shirt half over your body, but then pause because you realized you almost took your shirt off with Xavier in the room–

The two of you have been together practically since the womb, so you couldn't even count how many times you bathed together when you were younger. Key word: younger. But now??

“Hey– don't turn around, Xavier. I already took my shirt off.” You sheepishly laugh, keeping your soiled shirt over your chest as you notice his ear tips turning red. “I– why–” But he can't finish his sentence because someone comes into the room. You backpedal into a locker to hide and listen to Xavier tell the other student that he'll put the guy's stuff away. Once he shoos the guy out, you assume he locks the door behind him.

“Y/n, where'd you go?” Xavier calls out as he walks back to where you are and you kick open the locker with an embarrassed smile, “I'm…stuck.” You hold your hands out for help while keeping your legs against your chest. Your so-called friend laughs at your predicament, about to make fun of you, but then his gaze flits from your face to the swell of your breasts. He quickly shakes his head and clears his throat. “Geez, you really are something,” he sighs before grabbing your hand to pull back with all his strength.

“Ouch, Xavier, that shit hurts– woah–!” You're suddenly flying out of the locker and you land on top of Xavier with your hands on either side of his head. Just as you're about to get up, you hear the door knob jiggling and you jerk your body down as if trying to hide. “Oh shit– you locked the door, right, Xavier?” You ask in a panicked whisper, before realizing you could feel heavy breaths against your bare skin. You turn your gaze down and your eyes widen as you see Xavier's face buried in-between your breasts.

You quickly scoot backwards with your hand over your mouth. “I am so sorry, Xavier…”

Your best friend runs a hand down his red face with a long, drawn out sigh. “It's fine! No, really, it's fine.” He waves his hands before he tosses a shirt at your head. “Now, put that shit on.” The shirt smacks you upside the head and a hiss slips from between your teeth. “Well, I take back my apology now.” You murmur under your breath as you pull his shirt over your head. Though your gaze is drawn to his toned stomach. His shirt must've rode up during the fall and he never pulled it back down. That reminds you of something…

When you and Xavier were in middle school, you remember an old classmate joking about the two of you dating. While you both reacted in disgust, you clearly remember Xavier saying he'd never see you as a woman and then when the friend asked, “You never know. What if one day, you start feeling like she is?” Xavier replied with, “If that happens, I'm going to take my balls off. Both of them.” You were clearly disgusted by this and, albeit, a little offended so you spit back a jab of your own, “I’ll shave my head.” “Dude, I put my balls on the line!” He laughs, “You gotta match me. Or else…are you afraid you'd fall for me?” “You son of a bitch!” You grab Xavier by his hair, “You really think I'd fall for you when you find so many ways to piss me off?? The only emotion I feel for you is rage. You hear me!?”

“Y/n?? Yo, earth to Y/n.” Xavier waves a hand in your face and you shake your head before a book, from the shelf you're leaning against, falls to smack you atop the head. You rub your head as you stand up, then you clear your throat and hold your hands behind your back. “Hey Xavier?” “Yeah?” He glances toward you with one brow raised and you sigh, “I wanted to apologize for leaving like that yesterday. It wasn't fair to not hear you out and to make assumptions on my own like that. That’s what I came to tell you.”

After a few moments of silence and a shocked expression from Xavier, you can't take it any more and you start hitting him on the back, “Seriously, what's gotten into us? All this awkwardness between us just doesn't feel right! Let's forget the whole thing and go back to being normal again, yeah?” With each hit, Xavier says an “ouch” but you keep at it with a nervous laugh. “Anyway, bye!! I gotta go work on a project.” You leave him behind with a dumb expression on his face.

Once back in class, you have no time to dwell on everything that happened because you're busy with an animation project. You're working together with Tara, Yvonne, and Jeremiah. You and Tara are animation majors while Yvonne and Jeremiah are in design. “Do you think we can finish this in time?” You groan, tiredly running a hand through your hair before you get back to sketching. The four of you talk amongst yourselves before Yvonne points out, “You're so good with drawings, Y/n…I can only do stick figures. I didn't know we'd be drawing people.”

“Well, I prefer using a pencil.” You yawn, holding a hand up to your mouth. “I'm awful with 3D software.” Your eyes are a bit blurry from all of your yawning and you squint at your drawing. “What did the muscle look like on this arm?” You murmur. Your pencil completely stops its movements as you were suddenly reminded of Xavier's arm trying to push you away and the bright blush on his face from before.

You really need to do something to stop thinking of your best friend like this…but his abs– No, just because he's got chiseled abs and a nice face…and a pretty voice…Stop– He's just your friend. Your childhood, wombhood best friend Xavier.

Maybe…you could go on a group date? No, that probably wouldn't help much, but you could go just to meet new people!

You shoot Yvonne a text from the bathroom saying that you're going back to your dorm and that you want to be included in that group date tomorrow. You try to emphasize that you just want to go as a potential friend, but she's clearly not listening after that.

You weren't really too thrilled when Yvonne had asked you about the group date, when you guys were out shopping for lingerie– she was going on a trip with her boyfriend, Greyson, and knew it was time. Whatever that meant. You had also bought a lingerie set, just a basic dark red set since you thought it was pretty.

Though, you really hope none of the guys would actually see you as a potential romantic partner, because while you wanted to get those images of Xavier out of your head– you really didn't want to lead some poor guy on.

Tomorrow comes sooner than you expected and it's Saturday now. You're sitting in front of a mirror while Tara applies some light makeup to your face. She's only curling your lashes, adding a shade of lip gloss that matches your skin, and maybe some eyeliner. Nothing too dressy since you're just going to meet new people– even if Yvonne doesn’t seem to understand that.

“So, what made you decide to go on this group date? When Yvonne brought it up at the lingerie store, you didn't seem interested.” Tara points out as she styles your hair. “Well…I wanted to expand my social circle–” “Look up, I'm applying mascara,” Tara cuts you off and you pause before looking up. “Like this?” “I take it back– do what you were normally doing!” Tara holds back her laughter and gets back to your makeup.

“But yeah, like I was saying, my life pretty much revolves around my classes and the dorm.” Once Tara is done, you quickly stand up. “Alright, now let's see if I have anything I can wear..” You muse, popping into your closet before stepping out a few minutes later. “Look, am I overdressed?”

Tara's back is to you as she speaks, “Just dress in something casual. It's a group date, afterall–” Though, she goes silent as soon as she notices what you're wearing. “That's…not what you're actually wearing, right?”

You look down at your red flannel button-up and your blue jeans with a frown. “Is it…too dressy?”

“Too dressy? I–...You're right, it is too dressy. Let me make a few changes.” Tara runs a hand down her face before hyping herself up to create a bombshell of an outfit for you.

“Oh my– look at you, girlie!” Irina, a fellow classmate, exclaims as you step down from the bus at your meeting spot. She nudges her friend, Winona, with an elbow as you look down at your scuffed white sneakers, a bit embarrassed by all of the attention. Tara got you all prettied up, having chosen one of your white turtlenecks, one of her black velvet camisoles, her black sling purse, and a checked skirt that Tara had gotten you a few years back as a gift. Your fingers nervously tugging at the hem of your skirt, worrying that it might be too short.

“You look gorgeous! You should wear that skirt more often,” Winona smiles at you, before grabbing your wrist as Irina continues, “The boys are here already, let's go.”

“Oh, right, I don't think Yvonne told you guys, but I'm only here for–” But you can't finish your sentence as you're pulled into the restaurant. Your phone buzzes in your hand and you notice that ‘Jerk’ is calling you– Jerk being Xavier. You hesitate, wanting to answer, but instead you put your phone in your pocket. Any other time, you would’ve answered, but right now it seems a bit rude towards the others.

“Hey guys!” Irina holds up a hand to wave once you walk up to the table that was seating three other people. You didn't recognize any of them, but maybe it would be easier to make friends that way.

“Hey you!” One of the guys says to Irina and she laughs, “What's up? You should know it's an honor to be set up with design students!” “Hey, PE majors are more popular, okay?” “Ah..Hello!” Winona tries to speak up, not wanting to be drowned out of the conversation, while you didn’t really mind it. You, honestly, almost wanted to just back out and leave, but you decide to stick it out because you could make some friends today. “Come, sit. It's nice to meet you!” The second guy motions toward the table with a nice enough smile. While the other two girls go to sit down, you awkwardly lean over with a small wave, “Hi everyone..”

“Woa–” “H-hello!” Two of the guys speak while the last stays silent, but a smile does tug at the corners of his lips. “What're you still standing there for? Come on, sit!” The first guy laughs and that's when you finally sit down.

You learnt that their names were Damian, Mateo, and Caelus. Damian was the PE major who was talking to Irina. Mateo was the second guy and Caelus was the third one.

“So, now that we all know who we are…let's toast!” Damian holds out his shot glass of soju while you stare down at the cup. You've…never had soju before. You sniff the cup before looking up in surprise as someone asks what you were doing. “Come on, let's toast!” Irina laughs, nudging you with her elbow and, honestly, you felt so drained already. You wondered if you could last the rest of this 'date’. You clink your shot glasses together and, while everyone else downs their drink, you sip on yours. But you get a bit nervous when everyone looks at you expectantly, so you toss your head back to finish it off. Hmm…this is actually really good for getting your mind off of certain things.

A few shots and an hour later, you were drunk– having the time of your life, but drunk. Maybe you shouldn't have drank on an empty stomach.

“Here, Y/n, have some water.” Caelus places a glass of water in front of you before saying, “You're in for a terrible hangover otherwise.” “Oh, You're Caelus, right? Thanks!” You grin at him before taking a sip from the cup. After another thirty minutes of playing around and chatting, Caelus was also a little buzzed.

“Can I ask you something? I hope this doesn't sound weird or anything.” Caelus rubs the back of his neck, nervously, with a small laugh. “What is it?” You were, also, still buzzed and excited about having a new friend. “Um..You don't have a boyfriend, do you?”

You blink in surprise. Oh, right. That was the purpose of a blind date, afterall, but you weren't here for that.

“Ah, me? No, why?” You ask, hoping he wasn't going to ask you out because then that would get awkward really quick. “Well…do you know that seriously good looking guy? He's famous on campus.” “uh..you mean Xavier?” Your eyebrows furrow. You weren't sure where this conversation was going. “Yeah, him! I don't know if you know, but you're sort of famous too. You two are always together and frankly, I was shocked because I had always thought you two were a couple.” Caelus admits and you tilt your head to the side.

Seriously? You weren't aware of that, at all. You and Xavier…together? Half of you wants to vehemently deny it, but there's another part that kind of–

“Don't be silly! They've been friends since they were kids.” Irina laughs, slapping her thigh. Her face was so red, she was probably drunk off her ass. “So…you two aren't together?” Caelus turns back to you, an almost hopeful look in his eyes. “We used to hang out since we were practically babies, that's all. We know and have seen everything about each other.” You shake your head before you pass at your last statement.

Seen everything…

Oh.

You slap your hands against your cheeks to pull yourself out of your inappropriate thoughts while Irina and Caelus are both surprised at your sudden actions. You're now hyper aware of other patrons at the restaurant and how they're shaking condiment bottles, and decide that maybe it’s best to pass out drunk. You grab the soju bottle and tilt your head back to finish it off. The bottle clinks against the table and your forehead on the cool wooden smacks down to join the bottle shortly after.

The table felt so nice, compared to how hot your face felt. You could almost fall asleep. Almost, but the phone buzzing in your back skirt-pocket has you drowsily blinking your eyes and you reach back to grab it. Your blurry eyes scan across the contents of your messages;

💛: “pick up the phone”

: “im @ work”

: "lets get some desert after"

Oh right, Xavier did mention to you last week that he was picking up a part time job…Hmph. Guess he's perfectly fine, even after everything that happened. All while you're trying to make new friends and keep your mind off of it. Maybe you're the problem? That's right! You've got to snap out of it and just act normal like he's doing, but…why can't you do that? Ugh, this is annoying.

A sigh escapes your lips and you feel a hand on your head. “Are you alright?” You hear Caelus ask and you glance over at him. “Doesn't your head hurt?” Now that you think about it…yeah, your head does hurt. Inside and out.

“Everyone else went to get some hangover drinks. How is your head? You hit it pretty hard.” Caelus was clearly concerned for you and that would be sweet– if he were the right guy. “I'm not sure..It does sting,” you murmur, body tensing up as you felt Caelus's hand on your shoulder. Huh?

“Still? Let me see.”

Through your blurry eyes, you can see the man moving closer toward you. Or maybe not. You couldn't tell. Once he got close enough to where you could feel his breath on your nose, the loud clank of a bottle slamming against the table causes Caelus to jerk back. You curiously turn your head to the side, eyes widening because you've got to be seeing things. Right?

“Here are the two beers you ordered.” Xavier and he seems…angry? Upset? Hmm, so this is where he's working.

“Pretty…” You don't even realize you spoke out loud as you drunkenly meet his pretty blue eyes.

“Ah,” Irina exclaims as she stretches her arms up in the air, “That was such a good stroll. I feel so much better…I wonder if Y/n is okay, she had a lot to drink.” “Huh–” Winona quickly taps Irina on the shoulder, “Isn't that Xavier?”

You were still in a daze with your head on the table, but you snapped out of it and sat up so quickly that you felt dizzy. Did you just call Xavier pretty? You really hope you're hallucinating right now. It seems like you still have to get your act together. You look down at the table, contemplating hitting it again to knock some sense into yourself. You close your eyes, ready to slam your head down on the table, but instead of the table, you feel a warm hand on your forehead.

“What the..” You turn your head to the side, resting your cheek on the palm of whoever's hand this is before realizing that it's Xavier's hand.

“Are you drunk?” Xavier asks with a raised brow, “Is that why you're banging your head against the table?” He sighs, turning his head toward the four students, who were waiting to sit down. “How much did she drink?” He points at you as he rummages around in his apron with his other hand. “A-about a bottle and a half? She had soju..” Winona breaks the silence while the others are too stunned to speak.

“Soju!?” Xavier groans before quickly turning to look back at you, “A bottle and a half? Isn't this your first time? Are you out of your mind?” Your friend continues his rant, “Did you forget how you threw up after your first beer? Soju is even worse! Did you brain up and leave you before you drank that shit?? Why can't you learn?” He runs a hand through his silvery blonde hair.

“What're you doing, huh!? You're not my mom! Stop nagging me, I'm having a good time with my frie–” Your whining is cut off by Xavier tapping a cold can against your forehead. “–nds..what's this?”

“Drink this. No more soju for you.” Is all he says and you sigh, grabbing the can as you rub your forehead, “Did you just go out and buy this?” “Of course not, we sell that here.” His head turns toward the door as a bell chimes, signifying that another customer has walked in. “I gotta get back to work.”

After Xavier walks away, you hold the can to your chest. Heartbeat roaring in your ears. “Oh my god, how cute is he?!” Irina whispers to Winona and the other girl shakes her fists, “Even his apron is sexy..”

“Uh…I'm all buzzed out. I'm gonna go get some fresh air, okay?” You stand up, holding the can still, and do your best not to run your fingers through your hair. You didn't want to mess up all the hard work Tara did to fix it.

Once outside, you spot Xavier, who was taking out some garbage. “Hey!” You go to yell at him, but your words fall flat when you notice something sticking out of his mouth. “Are…you smoking?”

“...It's a lollipop.” “Oh..Anyway, why didn’t you tell me you worked here?”

“I did.” He says, dusting off his hands. “Did not!” You puff your cheeks out, trying to remember if he did tell you.

“Why? Are you embarrassed because I caught you acting all girly with some guys?” Xavier lets out a small laugh as he pulls the lollipop from his lips. “Well…Tomboys like you need to play coy to get a date, so I'll let it slide.”

So he somehow got the wrong idea too?

You'd love to tell him he's wrong, but you honestly didn't care at the moment. Instead, you change the subject. “Hey, take this back.” You hold the blue can he gave you back out to him, “You can't just give me this.” “I paid for it, so you take it,” he says as he pushes the can back against your chest.

At your silence, he raises a brow, “You know what? Give it back.” He holds his hand out toward you. “You got me all upset now, so I'll be taking it back.” “What?” You hold the can tighter to your chest, “No way! You said it was mine.” “Come to think of it…Why should I bother? You're too busy partying with guys to even answer my texts.” Oh, now Xavier is definitely pouting.

You quickly open the can and take a few swigs like a dog eating some table-food that hit the floor. “Oh–” Xavier pauses before his gaze squints and he leans forward. “Are you wearing makeup?” “So what? Tara did it for me. What's the problem with it?” You glare at him, immediately getting defensive. “Hmm…you can put makeup on a donkey, but it's still a donkey at the end of the day.” He shrugs as he moves away from you and you punch him in the shoulder, “You wear makeup too, you dick!”

“But I'm clearly not a donkey.” Xavier smiles.

You and Xavier continue to talk for a while, leaning against a green metal fence behind the restaurant. He pulls his phone out from his apron and sighs, “Ah, I'd better get back.” “Woah, how long has it been?” You turn your head to look at him as he puts his phone away once more, “It's been like fifteen minutes? Damn, I lost track of time talking about the beer vomit story.” He chuckles as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Say…Do you like any of those guys?” He asks, thumbs hooked through his belt loop. “Mmh…why?” You could easily tell him now, but you wondered why he asked that. “Just asking.” He shrugs, tapping the toe of his shoe against the pavement. “Anyway, we still on for dessert after my shift?” Xavier reaches down to ruffle your hair and says, “Let me know, but I seriously gotta go back in now.”

After he says what he needs to, Xavier goes back inside and you sigh, putting a hand in your skirt-pocket as you walk back around to the front of the building. “Huh–” you pause as you notice Caelus standing outside as well.

“I thought I'd check up on you since you've been outside for a while,” He easily answers you as if knowing what you were going to ask. “But I was wondering…if we could talk.” He smiles and boy, do you know what was coming. How were you going to let this poor guy down easy?

“So…you and Xavier look really close.” Oh…that's not what you expected. Or was he saying this to lead into something else? “Uh, yeah. We, kind of, grew up together,” You say, slowly, trying to gauge what his next sentence would be. “So you don't have feelings for him?”

Uh. Is this even an appropriate question to ask someone you just met? Sure, it's a good question if you were looking to date someone, but…it still feels weird.

“What?” “I know it's a silly question, but you two seem really close. That's why I asked.” Caelus laughs it off, rubbing the back of his neck. “So that means you're not seeing anyone?” “Well…not exactly, but I'm not here for–” “I'm interested in you.” He blurts out, cutting you off entirely, and you give him a deadpan stare.

“That's…very flattering, but–” “At the risk of sounding too forward, let me ask. Do you want to go out with me?” Your eyebrow twitches in annoyance and you take a deep breath. “Caelus, right?” You plaster the sweetest smile you can muster on your face and tighten your grip on the empty soda can in your hand. “If you'd allow me to finish my god da–” You pause, taking another deep breath before continuing, “–if I could finish my sentence for once, I'm not here to date. I’m not looking for a relationship. I told Yvonne this, but it seems like she didn't give everyone else the memo. I just came here to get out of my dorm room, for once, and make some new friends.”

“Anyway, I'm going back inside.” You clear your throat, after a tense moment of silence and walk past him to go back inside. But you feel a hand catch your wrist. “Y/n–” You jerk your arm out of his grip and turn your head to raise a brow at him, “Hey, did anybody ever tell you that shit only works in k-dramas and romance novels? Don't touch me without my permission. But, now that you've got my attention, what is it?” You cross your arms over your chest and he frowns, putting his hands in his pockets as he murmurs under his breath, “Geez, they always say the worst she can say no.”

“Annnnd that's all the patience I have left to spend on you. Nice seeing you never!” You wave to him as you re-enter the restaurant and go back to your table.

Sure, Caelus didn't seem like a bad person, but the vibes just didn't feel right to you. At all. Honestly, you’d feel a lot better once you got dessert with Xavier.

A few days later, you're chilling at Xavier’s house and eating some leftover cake from that time you went to a dessert café. Your laptop sits open on his coffee table as you're on the floor, in front of it, while Xavier is sitting on the couch behind you. He always liked to watch your work, for some reason. Maybe to make sure you did it right?

You had an empty word document in front of you and you tilt your head back to look at your friend. “Hey, are you gonna work on your assignments too or are you going to watch me like that vampire weirdo from Twilight?” Xavier was mid-bite when he started coughing, hitting his chest because he must've been laughing but choked on his food. “I'll work on it later. What's your assignment on?” He asks, once he's finally caught his breath, and wipes a few stray tears from his eyes. “Ah…it's a report on any classic film. I got a USB of the film from Rafayel, so I'll probably watch that first.” You move to grab the USB from your bag before plugging it in.

“Do you want me to watch with you? I could try and help.” He leans forward, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Uh–” you were startled at how close he had gotten, but you nod your head, “Sure…Huh, it seems like there's a lot to choose from…”

The titles were pretty weird too, but these could just be some indie films. “Animal addiction?” You murmur with a raised brow, glancing over at Xavier out of the corner of your eye and he shrugs, moving his finger to the touchpad to click on it. “Maybe it’s something like the Tiger man documentary?” He questions before both of you go silent.

The film was pretty grainy, appearing like amateur work. This didn't seem like a ‘classic’ film…Then, the camera pans to a woman laying down on a bed. Was she naked?? What the hell is this– a man joins her on the bed and–

“Ooh!” a moan erupts from your laptop. “Ah, yes! Right there!” Wet squelches are audible from your speakers, the sound of skin slapping against skin. “Harder!”

You quickly slam your laptop shut with your face in your hands. “What the fuck did Rafayel give me?” You murmur, face bright red and your heartbeat thundering. “Maybe…it's a risqué classical film?” Xavier offers, trying to hold back his laughter, even if his face was red as well.

You definitely knew it wasn’t a classical film, you recognized it. It was the same one you had seen in middle school!

“He could've accidentally added that to this USB.” You let out a panicked laugh, opening your laptop back up to scroll through the file. “Okay, so maybe…okay, these have numbers and symbols as the name so maybe these are okay?” You quickly click on it and silently take the USB out from your computer before the moans can even start. “...nevermind.”

You run a hand through your hair and rest your head on the couch. “I'm sorry, Xavi..I guess I grabbed the wrong USB.” You sigh, looking up at the ceiling until the light is covered up by Xavier's big head coming into view. No, not that head.

“Xavier?” You question, but he doesn't respond. He leans over you, dipping his head down lower…and lower. Though, you panic and put your hand over his mouth.

“Oh! Uh– sorry,” you quickly say as you move your hands back, holding them to your chest with a nervous laugh as you stand up with your laptop. “Actually, uh Tara– yeah, Tara told me earlier today that she needed her clothes back. You know, the ones that I borrowed! So…I should probably leave and go get those for her!” You clap your hands together, face probably even more red than when that porno appeared on your laptop.

“Y/n–” Xavier goes to grab your wrist, but hesitates. He drops his hand into his lap before he shakes his head. “I understand. Go ahead.”

Huh, why did he do that? He could've just grabbed your hand–oh, could he have heard your conversation with Caelus?

“Thanks, Xavi. I’m really sorry about that! I'll definitely see you later though.”

A week goes by and you finally submit your correct classical film report. You had to sneak the USB back to Rafayel and explain to him that you never even looked at it since you already finished the report. You’d rather not open that can of worms with him, afterall.

While you're leaving your college, you get a text message;

💛: “hey”

: “i got u some food from my mom”

: “come get it or”

: “dont i could eat it”

Oh hell no! If it's his mom's cooking, you definitely want it.

“Hey! I'm here for my food!!” You waste not a single second, having gotten on a bus and ran the rest of the way to Xavier's apartment. It wasn't too far from the school, so you were more than ready to sit down and ea…–

“Holy shit!” You slap your hands over your eyes as you were blessed with the sight of a shirtless Xavier with water dripping down his chest. He was drying his hair off with a towel as he curiously looked over at you. “Hey, you were the one who barged into my house.”

“Why're you naked, though!? My eyes–” You whine and you hear Xavier audibly scoff, “What? So, are you telling me that I can't even shower? In my own home?” Then, after a few moments of silence, you move your hands away from your eyes. Honestly, you loved being over-dramatic. It was like second nature to you. Anything to keep from blushing over your shirtless best friend.

“Forget it. You wanted the food, right?” Xavier points toward his couch. “Wait there, I'll go get my shirt.”

You didn't even realize how quickly you complied to what he said, already finding yourself sitting down not even a few moments later.

He comes back with a white shirt on, grabbing the reusable orange bags and sets them on the coffee table. “So, what's in it?” You ask, standing up excitedly. “Well, you know, only your favourites.” He takes the plastic containers out of the first bag and you rummage through the second one before pulling out a heavy glass bottle. “Huh, what's this?” Once glance was all it took to realize this was a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

“Hey, it's hard liquor!” You show it off to Xavier with a grin and he runs a hand down his face, “Oh…great.” As if he knows where you're going with this.

“Put it back. It's probably your mom's. I must've grabbed it by mistake.” He goes to take it from you, but you look at him with a mischievous smile, “Do yoouuu want to try it?” “I– seriously, Y/n, it's your mom's. We can't just–” “I just looked it up and apparently it tastes good,” you tease, shaking the bottle in front of him before you sigh, “but I guess we can put it back…”

“Well,” Xavier perks up at it tasting good and clears his throat, “I mean we could give it a taste.”

The two of you each fill a cup with the amber liquid and sit around the coffee table with your food-filled tupperware. A nice alcoholic beverage and food always go good together.

“Blegh!” You stick your tongue out, nose wrinkling in disgust, “Why is it so bitter? What's the percentage on this shit?” “Hmm, maybe twenty?” Xavier grabs the bottle to see before he pauses, “oh…forty.”

“This shit is way too strong. You got any soda we can mix with it?” Even though you asked, you’re going straight toward his kitchen as if you live here. “Yup.” He leans back on his hands until you come back, mixing some soda into both of your drinks. You take another sip and nod your head, “Do you wanna try mixing it with other stuff?” “Hmm, I heard orange juice is good with it.” Xavier looks up from his phone. He must've googled it. “Yeah! Let's try out a ton of combos and find the best one!” you cheer, holding a fist up in the air.

Then, you pause. “Wait.” You hold your hand out. “First, let me borrow some of your clothes.” “Why?” “Because my clothes are too snug and I'm gonna eat some of my food– annnd I'll probably stay the night,” you say with a shrug and Xavier points in the direction of his room. “Go find something.” He nurses his drink while you change into the smallest clothes he owns.

Even if they're the smallest, they still practically engulf you. His shirt was loose around your body and his shorts were barely holding up around your waist.

“You look like a hobbit.” Xavier giggles to himself before he motions toward the plates on the coffee table. “Anyway, I unloaded some of your food. You’re sharing, by the way. You don't get a choice.”

As you shamble back toward the coffee table, you have to hold up your borrowed shorts. When did Xavier get so big..? Wasn't this shirt supposed to be a short sleeve? It's almost to your wrists…Hmm…

Where's this tingling sensation in your stomach coming from? Parasites, maybe? Maybe they'll go away if you drink.

“You know,” You slur, holding up an empty glass, “This is supposed to be hard liquor, right? Wouldn't it…be better to call it easy liquor since it goes down so easy?” Your body sways and you set your glass down next to the empty bottle of alcohol. “Here we go again. Do you realize how many times you’ve said that?” Xavier hiccups as he points at a plant in his room. Did he think that plant was you? Laughter bubbles in your chest before it erupts from your mouth and you lay onto the floor as you try to catch your breath.

“Hey..” Xavier brushes his hand across your heated forehead, “Aren't you gonna call your boyfriend?” “Eh? What boyfriend?” Your eyes were closed, relaxing as he played with your hair. “Didn't..well, that guy asked you out, right?” “Mmh…yeah, but I said no,” you say with a small shrug.

You raise a brow after you open your eyes and notice Xavier was smiling. “Why're you smiling? You look stupid.” You reach your hand up to poke your index finger against his cheek. “That checks out. Who would ask you out anyways.”

“Huh, are you trying to fight with me?!” You quickly sit up, body swaying from the slight feeling of vertigo as you glare over at him. “What? You know I'm right. Don't you remember, in elementary school, all the kids in our class thought you were a boy.” “And? All of the girls liked to dress you up in princess costumes because you were ‘pretty as a princess’ or did you forget about that?” You jab a finger against his chest.

“What about your last crush? He only realized you were a girl when you had to wear the girl's uniform.” Xavier leans closer, his face flushed from all the alcohol you both had drank. “Look who's talking Mister ‘I won an all girl's beauty pageant even though I was in the audience’.” Your face equally as red as you kept moving closer until your foreheads touched. “Tomboy!” “Delinquent!”

A silence fills the room as your breath washes over each other's face until Xavier closes the gap. You felt his soft lips against yours before he pulled back. “Huh–” You lazily blink a few times, gaze flitting between his lips and his eyes. You both stare at each other for a few more seconds, and then Xavier leans back in.

This time, he doesn't pull away.

Xavier kisses you softly, your body slowly leaning backwards until you're flat against the floor. You felt his tongue lick at your lips and you hesitate for a moment to let him in.

What…were you doing? With Xavier, of all people?

With another swipe of his tongue, you give up on thinking and open your mouth. Your head tilts to the side as the kiss deepens, his tongue dragging against yours. “Mmh–” a noise escapes your lips as he sucks your tongue into his mouth, tugging on it before he goes back to languidly kissing you. His tongue lazily fighting against yours for dominance, but neither side ever wins.

Your hand moves up to tangle in his hair, nails lightly scratching at his scalp. You shift in his hold, your chest lightly brushing against his and that's when Xavier tenses up. He pulls back, hands gripping your shoulders. “Hey…have your boobs always felt this nice?” He asks, looking down at them to see their stiffened peaks through the thin fabric of his shirt. “Hmm…I dunno since you've never felt them before.” You drunkenly tug at the neck of your borrowed shirt to look down at your breasts.

“Wait–” you squint your eyes as you notice something red coming out of Xavier's nose. “Is your nose…seriously bleeding from seeing my boobs?” You laugh. “What are you, a teenager?”

“Seriously, put your head back. It's getting everywhere.” You wipe at it until Xavier scoots back, “Hey stop–” He falls back against the couch, wiping his nose with a thumb. His legs are spread out with his shirt riding up his chest. His firm thighs…

You move a bit closer, your hand trailing up his shirt. “What're you doing?” He asks, stomach tensing up as your fingers brush against his abs. “I always wanted to feel them,” you murmur under your breath. “They're soft…I really thought they'd be firm.”

You poke at his stomach and Xavier groggily looks down at you, “It's because ‘m not flexing.” “ohh, what happens when you flex?” You already forgot what you were talking about. “My abs get hard.” “Hmm..flex it right now. I wanna see what happens.” Your fingers continue to prod and poke at his stomach. “Yo, you listening?” Your nails lightly scratch against his skin and he catches your wrist, “I heard you, so stop touching me…and this time, let me touch you.” His thumb rubs back and forth against your pulse.

“But…no.” You look away from him and Xavier raises an eyebrow, confused, “Why?” “Then…someone would be touching my body..and that's embarrassing.” You pout, cheeks somehow getting even more warm, as you squeeze your thighs together. “Then…it would be fine if I touch you in a way that doesn't make you shy, right?” He grabs your wrist once more, gently squeezing it before his hands dart to your waist. His fingers dance across your body as he tickles you.

A loud laugh slips from your lips and your body jerks around in his hold. “Xavi– wait!” Your body goes backward and you're back on the floor. Your hands push at his chest as your laughter causes tears to prick your eyes. He catches your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head, as his free hand continues to tickle your body. “Hold on–! Let me catch my breath you, fucking–” More giggles come from your throat as you try to finish your sentence, “–you fucking psycho!”

Xavier finally stops, your shirt up to your neck as your chest heaved from your breathing. “Are..you okay?” He asks, slowly, and you look up at him with (happy) tears in your eyes, “After everything you did, do I look okay to you?” You were out of breath, sides still somehow feeling like they were being tickled. “Well…in any case, it doesn't seem like you're embarrassed anymore.” Xavier trails off, his gaze on your bra-clad breasts. His finger slides under the cups to grab your right breast.

“Ah..” you let out a small noise in surprise, back automatically arching to push more into his palm.

“Fuck..” he breathily laughs before he leans his head down to wrap his lips around your nipple. His tongue flicks across the stiffened peak before he nips it between his teeth. “Ouch, Xav..” you wince before a moan slips through your puffy, parted lips as he swipes his tongue against it to soothe the pain.

“Xavi..” your chest felt wet from more than just Xavier's saliva.

“Hey, lift your head for a sec.” You tug him up by his silvery blonde hair and notice his nose was bleeding again. “Again? Are you exhausted today or do you just go wild for breasts?” You sit up to panic over the poor guy, trying to find something to wipe his nose with.

“No..” but his gaze is drawn to your bare breasts once more and you could swear you saw more blood drip from his nose.

Fuck. You needed to find a tissue for him. Why isn't he helping? You glance over at him and can't help but think that he looks kind of cute in a daze like that. Then, you notice he's getting blood on his white shirt. Ugh. Blood stains are a bitch to get off. Uh…

“Ah, seriously…this is so gross but–” you murmur under your breath before you cup his cheek and lean forward. You drag your tongue up his chin and move along the trail of blood. Moving across his lips…but you stop before getting to his nose because that's…just nasty. You weren't licking his nose. You move back and stick your tongue out. “Blegh. I can't believe I did that. You know blood stains– Mmph” Xavier cuts you off with another kiss. This one was more intense than the last. His tongue sliding against yours as one of his hands holds your face by the chin. This kiss was passionate and wet. Saliva drips down your chin and you greedily swallow any that makes it into your mouth.

You turn your head to the side for air and lightly hit him on the back. “You’re getting more blood in my mouth.” You meet Xavier’s eyes but he's clearly gone, out of it. He dips his head back down to kiss you again, gently guiding your body back to the floor for the third time tonight. Your hand grips the back of his shirt as he kisses you harder, lips sloppily colliding and gliding against one another. You feel his hands make their way up your thighs until he's slipping his fingers under your shorts. One hand squeezes your ass, his fingers pressing into the skin.

Your body jerks in surprise as his fingers slowly move toward your center. Legs trying to close on reflex as you felt his middle finger press against your entrance. “X-Xavier?” You manage to choke out, your breath coming out in small pants. “You're so wet…is this all just from kissing?” He asks, seemingly in a daze as his middle finger penetrates you.

Xavier rests his forehead against yours as he presses his finger inside at a slow pace. The digit curling and pressing at odd intervals as if trying to find something. “A-ah..” you can't help the tiny moans that spill from your lips, your hips jerking with every movement from his finger.

“W-wait a second,” you panic as you feel something warm and thick against your inner thigh, and Xavier pulls back for a moment. Your gaze immediately drops to the front of his sweatpants and your eyes widen. “Oh..” “What're you thinking about?” His pretty blue eyes were filled with a hint of darkness, a bit of lust.

You…wanna try it.

“Xavi…do you have any condoms?” You ask, your hands cupping his cheeks to make him look at you. That's when he frowns. “No…shit, do I need to get some?”

Damn it.

“No, it's…fine. We can uh– ah–!” You cut yourself off mid-sentence as Xavier pushes his finger back inside your pussy, a second finger teasing your entrance. “We can still get each other off though, yeah?” He licks his lips before adding a second finger. His hips pressed closer to you so you felt the warmth of his length against your thigh once more. “S-sure,” you hiccup your sentence out as he begins to move both fingers, curling them to press into that spot. You let out a loud moan and roll your hips upward.

A similar moan slips from Xavier's lips as you unintentionally grinded up against him and he grabs your hand, placing it over his clothed dick. “Please?” he asks with a tilt of his head, curling his fingers against your g-spot for good measure. You quickly nod your head, squeezing your head against his length before you begin to rub it.

The silvery blonde haired man continues to fuck you with his fingers, his thumb swiping back and forth over your clit. “Fuck, Xavier!” You arch your hips up with a small whine as you feel something building up in your stomach. Your hand moves against his warm dick, trying your best to jerk him off without going under his clothes, and it seems to be working because he dips his head down to kiss you once more.

“Come for me,” he murmurs against your lips. “Please? Wanna feel your pussy tremble around my fingers.” You felt the thread in your stomach winding tighter and tighter until…

Your body jolts you awake and you sit up in the bed with wide eyes. A dream? No…your sticky, cold panties were telling you otherwise. You slowly turn your gaze to the warm body next to you. How did you both get up to bed?

Whatever. That doesn't matter. You check your phone, quickly silencing your alarm so it doesn't wake Xavier up and you jump up to get dressed.

Yeah, leaving. That sounds great. Especially when assignments can be used as an excuse! You put your pants up before cringing at your wet panties. You sigh, taking them off. Guess you're going commando today…you put the clothes in his laundry hamper and hurry out the door.

Almost a whole day went by and you didn't get a single thing done. You were sitting in a daze for the most part, but now you were reading a mature romance novel. Tara had left a few behind in the dorm so you were distracting yourself with them. Though…they weren't helping much. You were imagining all of the sex scenes in the novel with you and Xavier instead…

You slap yourself and quickly stand up. Snacks. Yeah, snacks could help.

You throw on a jacket and leave the house with your book in hand. You read a few pages as you step into the store, walking straight toward the snacks aisle but stop in front of the adult section. Your eyes scan over a few condom boxes.

If…Xavier had a condom yesterday, you would've had sex, right?

Your cheeks heat up and you shake your head. Were you always this obsessed with sex?

You pick up one of the boxes, looking at it and murmuring, “Ribbed…for her pleasure?” You tilt your head to the side. Would that feel good..? You kind of wanted to know, but you probably wouldn't ever find out. Who would you even do it with? Well…isn't Xavier a viable option? Do you like him? You, honestly, are starting to wonder at this point. You might.

“He might be interested in it…considering what happened yesterday,” you murmur under your breath. Your head curiously turns toward the door as you hear a ding come from someone else entering the small store.

“Oh–”

You really hope he didn't see the condoms in your hand.

You speed walk to the checkout counter, buying the condoms in your momentary panic and drag him outside.

The two of you sit down on a bench in silence.

Maybe…you could ask him now? Or should you say you like him? Would it be rude to ask for sex without even dating?

“So…about yesterday..” Xavier begins and you excitedly look at him, pretending to play it cool when he looks at you. “We both made a mistake because we were drunk…maybe it's best to just forget about it all together–” Though he pauses once he notices the frown on your face. Your head was spinning and your cheeks felt hot. Did you drink today? It definitely felt like you had some alcohol.

Gosh, you're so embarrassed. Why were you thinking he'd ask to do it again?

“Ah…yeah, of course! We'll forget it ever happened. Yup! Just return everything back to normal, okay? Don't act all awkward when you see me again, you hear!” You awkwardly laugh as you hit his back. “It’s nothing special, am I right?”

“Stop that.” Xavier sighs, body barely moving from your hits. “Oh? Your back muscles are really prominent. Have you been working out again?” Your palm presses against his back and he shakes his head, “You know, it would do you some good to pick up some muscle too. I mean seriously, you–” he pauses as he realizes he has his arm wrapped over your shoulders, fingers touching your waist. Your hand was on his chest with your head resting on his shoulder and…This definitely didn't seem like ‘going back to normal’.

“Anyway, I'm gonna go! It's almost time for the dorm curfew so yeah!” Your ankles twist over one another as you try to quickly escape and you're falling toward the ground. “Hey, be careful–!!”

Xavier's arm wraps under your breasts to hold you up from falling and your hand rests on his elbow.

You both stood there for a moment with red faces until you cleared the silence with a nervous question, “Hey, I…Can I come over to your place..?”

Xavier kicks the door closed behind him, already closing in on you. You trip and fall back, the two of you landing on the floor with his hand cushioning your head. He looks over at the stairs before grabbing your arms. “Wrap your arms around my neck.” He tells you and you do it without question.

Suddenly, you're in the air with his hands gripping your ass as he hurries to his room. You can feel something hard– probably his dick– pressing hard between your thighs before he practically tosses you on his bed. Your body bouncing against the mattress as Xavier puts his hands on either side of your waist. You lean back on your elbows as you look up at him, nervously.

“Should I…take this off?” You tilt your head to the side, unzipping your hoodie to reveal your tank top underneath. “Should we?” Xavier lifts his shirt over his head and tosses it somewhere in the room. Then, he's back on top of you.

He pulls down your shorts and panties in one swipe, then your tank top follows so you're only in your sports bra while he's still wearing his sweatpants. His hand moves down to your pussy, tapping his fingertips against your clit before his middle finger dips past your entrance.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, finger gliding in easily with how wet you were. “N-no,” you choke out, doing your best to hold back any noises as he begins to thrust his finger. “I'm ah okay.” Your hips jerk and he holds them down with his other hand. “You're so…wet. Is that normal?” He asks as he adds a second finger. “How would I know!?” Your nails dig into his shoulder and Xavier lets out a hiss between his teeth, “Honestly…I've been hard since we were outside my door.”

“I know, I felt it.” A moan leaves your lips as he moves his fingers faster. Wet squelching sounds come from between your legs as his palm smacks against your clit with every thrust. “X-Xavier!” “I can feel your pussy squeezing around my fingers, are you close?” He questions as he curls your fingers and your body squirms underneath his grip as you cry out and come undone underneath him. “Ah…you didn't even answer me.” He tsks with a small pout.

“I'm…sorry.” An apology slurs from your lips as you try to catch your breath and Xavier pulls his finger out, bringing them up to his lips. He gives them a curious sniff before licking up his fingers, taking in your taste with a small hum.

“Fuck…are you gonna whip it out?” You sit up on your elbows, eyeing the wet spot on the front of his sweatpants and he chuckles, “Alright, greedy girl. I’m getting it out.”

He moves to take off both his sweatpants and boxers before he gets back onto the bed, stroking his dick with one hand. “Hey, grab the condoms.” He jerks his head toward your bag and you roll over to grab it from the floor. You feel a hard slap against your ass as soon as you grab the square packet and jerk your head toward Xavier. “What the hell?” The culprit holds his hands up in defeat and you hand him the condom as you lay on your back.

Xavier rips open the packet with his teeth, one hand still rubbing his cock before he rolls the condom along his length. His pretty pink tip was already leaking precum. He rubs his cock against your clit, coating the condom in your juices and then lightly presses the tip against your hole. “Ah–” you grab Xavier's shoulders to get his attention, “please be gentle?”

He smiles down at you, nodding his head as he slowly pushes inside. He waits a few moments, allowing your pussy to suck more of his length in as you adjust to his size. “It..hurts..” you bite down on your bottom lip. This was nothing like what the romance novel said. What the fuck. “Breathe,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours. His hand moving down to roll his thumb against your clit. His other hand moves to arch your back, fingers pressing against your spine and a loud moan slips from your lips. Your hands smacking against your mouth in surprise.

“What's this, Y/n?” Xavier scoffs, a grin tugging at his lips. “Does it feel good when I touch your back?” He licks his lips as he lightly scratches his nails against your back. “A-ah, stop–” Another moan leaves you as he begins to move. His hips snapping forward and his balls slap against your ass. “Xav– fuck, please–” You weren’t sure what you were asking for, at this point. He changes the angle of his hips and you gasp out, legs wrapping around his waist as your back arches. “Hnngh!” You roll your hips up to match his thrusts, your gaze on his face to watch as it contorts with pleasure.

“Ahhh..fuck!” Xavier's hips still and you look up at him with a raised brow, “Did you just…” “Fuck, it's my first time too..I'll do better.” He pulls out to tie off the condom and tosses it in his trash can. He leans over to grab another one, rolling it onto his cock as he lines it back up with your pussy.

The pace is as harsh as ever. Skin slapping on skin, wet sounds and moans filling up the otherwise quiet room.

You can't even remember how many times you've came at this point, tied up condoms littering the floor since Xavier missed the trash multiple times. Your hands press against his sweaty chest as your equally sweaty body feels weak. “You said that was the last time!” You gasp out, legs shaky. “You've gotta cum one more time and then we're done, yeah? You can do it for me, right?” He throws one of your legs over his shoulder as he slowly thrusts into you. His thumb rubbing your clit to match his pace. “We'll cum together and then sleep, hmm?” He murmurs, dipping his head down for a soft kiss as he languidly thrusts into you.

You're not even sure if you can cum again, but you can't say no to that pretty face so you tiredly nod your head. Your fingers lightly running through his hair as you felt that stomach heat up. A soft moan slipping into his mouth as you came for the nth time.

Xavier's head turns to the side to break the kiss as he bites his lip and cums at the feeling of your warm pussy spasming around his dick. He pulls out, throwing the condom away once more and collapses next to you, one arm across your stomach. “Night…Xavi.” You yawn, eyes slowly drifting closed.

The next time you wake up, everything comes crashing back to you but you're not as shocked. If anything, you're content with it. You've come to terms with your feelings rather quickly and decided you would run away this time. But when you turn to see Xavier, he’s not there. You frown. Huh…was this how he felt when you weren't next to him before?

You get out of bed, pulling on one of Xavier's shirts as you wobbly walk into the kitchen. He must've cleaned you up since you didn't feel sweaty or sticky. Maybe he's still home..

You pause as you smell something and run to the kitchen like a newborn deer. Xavier can’t cook to save his life so you wanted to salvage the food somehow. You skid to a halt once you notice he's just heating up leftovers in the microwave.

“Oh, so you didn't try to sneak out on me today.” Xavier comments once he spots you behind him, his gaze raking up your bare legs. You snap your fingers and pout, “Hey! Eyes up here, idiot. We're not going at it again yet, I can barely feel my legs.”

“Yet?” He raises an eyebrow, setting a plate down on the counter. “Who says we'll do it again?”

“Mmh..” You pretend to think for a moment before you sheepishly smile, “Your…girlfriend?”

Xavier blinks at you owlishly in surprise before he shakes his head with a small laugh. “Girlfriend…yeah, that sounds nice. Great way to ask someone out, dumb ass.” He carries the plates toward his kitchen table. “Now let's eat before my dumb girlfriend passes away from starvation.”

I'm gonna post this now, before I update TOF since I've got it done! I'm sorry for the abrupt ending, but I'm glad I finished it because apparently Tumblr doesn't like things over 12k. I gotta take note of that for the future..

I hope you guys don't mind that I couldn't go through and use italics and bold. I would have but my Tumblr is being so laggy from the word count that I honestly can't bring myself to do it. Anyways, I'm not sure when I'll write the next ones in this mini-series, but I hope you enjoyed reading through this! It's a lot longer compared to my usual updates. But yeah! ToF updates later on today so I hope you're ready for that!! <3

[mtchee]

An Honour to be in a Harem!? - [Genshin Impact SAGAU] | MDNI | GN AMAB 18+

blurb:

The concept of all these gorgeous people bowing before you is hard to grasp, but it's even worse to think that they'd actually offer themselves to you as a love interest. So obviously, you brush them off and decline, retorting that just because you're their supposed Creator doesn't mean they should feel as though they had to subject themselves to your unwanted affection. After all, who were you really, to compare to them? Unfortunately (or fortunately, actually) they seem quite boggled at your output. Ah! It all makes sense now! Their dearly Beloved is the shy type! Worry not, your Grace! Your dearest acolytes are more than happy to bask in any sort of attention you decide to share! Rest assured, they'll take care of all your needs~

cw: not edited, second-person-pov, kind of a sequel?, amab bodied, you are dearly beloved and longed for <3, realistically if this happened i would rather die of a heart attack, lots of love and affection!!, mdni, spicy content, swearing, smut, overstim, manhandling, voyeurism, fingering, blowjob, sub [name], use of terms cock shaft penis tit, help i'm embarassed i wrote this omfg who am i, would u believe me if i said this is my first smut

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[3.0k]

What is this bullshit.

You can't help but just blink at the Archon knelt at your feet, his head bowed low. When you emit a shocked squeak he looks up at you, amber eyes latching onto your flustered expression.

Your gaze darts around the few others surrounding your throne--you only really sit in it when the people of teyvat line up for personal prayers and blessings, or when someone tells you to. Otherwise, you avoid sitting in it.

Venti, Ei, Al-haitham, Ayato, Ningguang, Jean, Furina, Neuvillette, and Tartaglia stand past Zhongli who is knelt before you.

You force a polite smile and let out a nervous laugh, "Aha, um... d-dont.. you don't have to do that. Really."

"Do not misunderstand, Beloved," The geo Archon stands to his full height, and you feel small despite the grandness of your seat, "it truly would be my--our, utmost honour." He places a hand over his heart and bows lowly by the waist. The others follow in tandem, and you panic.

"No! Really," Although all your fanfic dreams were coming true, knowing that these are now very much real people and not just characters put you on edge. They all have their own lives to live, their own goals and ambitions, likes and dislikes, preferences and attractions that you certainly didn't and never would attain.

At first, the idea is flustering and the offer makes you feel giddy, but looking into it, you feel bad. They see you as their All-Maker, who are you to make them miserable?

"You don't need to do that. I-I know there's that rumour going around, but really, I'm fine by myself."

"Your Grace," Ei steps forwards with a tiny furrow in her thin brows, "please, it would be our honour--"

"You know what would really be an honour," Your heart stings slightly, but you straighten up on your throne and give your audience a reassuring smile, "is if you went out on your own to seek who you actually love, to find a partner you'll be happy to spend your time with--to love on your own accord. That, would be an honour, I'd say."

You're not oblivious to how everyone reels back at your words, a mixture of shock, fear, and disbelief covering their features sported by prominent frowns.

Al-haitham is the one to break the tense silence that freezes the room.

"Beloved," His eyes flicker over you, thought and theories wiring around his ever working mind, "are we unsatisfactory?"

You blanch, "Gah! No! Oh my--it's nothing like that!" You can't help but feel flushed under the intensity of their eyes.

"It's just, you need to not see me as a duty."

You address them calmly, forcing your fluttering feelings down to school your face passively.

"You need to focus on yourselves, and your own lives. I'm not here to come between that."

Their silent stares are unnerving, and Venti and Furina share a look with hidden smiles while Jean steps forward with a respecful bow.

"Of course, your Grace."

"F-Fuck..!"

Embarassed tears sting your eyeline while you hold your breath, desperately trying to get ahold of yourself.

Plap! Plap! Plap!

Your pretty eyes roll to the back of your head and a loud moan is forced out of you each time Ayato's fat cock plunges in and out of your sloppy hole.

He sits leant against the finest silken pillows with your naked back pressed against his bare, toned chest, an arm wrapped securely around your waist while the other sweetly fondles with one of your spit laden nipples.

Thoma lay stomach down on the soft doona, face buried dutifully between your quivering thighs which he holds apart with surprising strength. He swallows around your swollen cock determinedly, and you cry out in humiliation when your pre-cum pools at the corner of his lips and drips onto the expensive fabric below.

"G-nngh!" You clench your eyes shut at the embarassingly loud noise of skin slapping against skin and the lewd sucks of Thoma's mouth and the squelching of your asshole, "a-ah..! Ah! Ah!"

The Kamisato Commisioner lets out a low moan by your ear, feeling your hot and gummy walls squeeze down on his length deliciously.

"Remember-- hng! R-Remember to breathe, my beloved."

He gently squishes the enticing softness of your tit, bucking up into you abruptly when you let out a squeal as he pinches your nipple.

"M-Mm~ my dearest," Thoma moans onto your slickened shaft, and you just about explode at the burst of electric pleasure that shoots up your spine, "you taste.. divine..~!"

Your heart thrums at the messy sight of him, his lips, chin and cheeks covered in your honey thick slick with half lidded eyes locked onto your expressions. You let out a needy moan when you notice him desperately grinding his naked hips into the bedding for release.

A now all too familiar searing pleasure suddenly coils in the utmost depth of your body, and you scream at the sheer ferocity of it.

"C-Can't! I can't!"

You buck your hips away from Ayato's throbbing cock and bump into the back of Thoma's throat, but they only follow you--the commisioner's arm moving from your waist to your hips, locking you in place while Thoma's grip moves from your thighs to the underside of your knees, opening you up and forcibly holding you still.

You dig your nails into Ayato's arm, your other hand fruitlessly shoving at the housekeeper's head to push him away.

The pleasure becomes piercing, and you choke on a sob as your gushing asshole just goes squelch, squelch, squelch with every thrust you have to take. His cock feels so dangerously good, and you fear your own might bleed from its continuous onslaught of pleasure.

Thoma's tongue licks at the puckering rim of your ass and the base of his lord's cock, and Ayato curses lowly, his grip tightening.

You feel something thick and heavy and hot spurt inside you, though the pounding doesn't let up and the near painful coil violently pops inside you, and you shriek in tandem with the burst of honeyed white fluid that spurts from your throbbing cock.

Your face burns hot with humiliation, and you can only muffle your embarassed moans into the fabric of the couch.

Naked and vulnerable, you're bent ass up and face down over Al-haitham's lap with his dominant hand knuckle deep in your lubed hole.

Maybe, just maybe you might've been able to handle this amicably, but not with Kaveh walking in and berating the Akademia Scribe turned Grand Sage on his pleasure skills.

With your rear held high and knees spread, your leaking hole is on display for the genius architect while his roommate fingers you ruthlessly, constantly prodding and rubbing that special squishy spot inside you that renders you immobile.

"H-Hah.. mmngh! Ah..."

You can do nothing but take it and drool on the couch while they squabble above you as though you're not there.

"--Y-You brute! That's our beloved and you're treating them like that!?"

"I'd say our Creator quite likes it."

You stifle a screech when Al-haitham takes his other hand and spreads your ass open to prove his argument to Kaveh.

"See?" He takes out his fingers and spreads them apart, watching your hot slick string apart, "and here too." You sob loudly as he gently prods at your convulsing balls to stare down your red, throbbing penis.

Kaveh's face flushes at the lewd display, and he gulps while setting his suitcase down off to the side before approaching.

"A-And?"

"[name] has cum thrice already."

Kaveh's brow twitches, "Were you not going to clean them up?!"

Al-haitham huffs indifferently despite the miniscule tint of pink arousal across his cheeks, "I'll leave that to you."

The blond hmphs at him before cooing at you softly, praising you with your title and demeanour.

"Our beloved," He caresses your back, and you shiver pleasantly at the tingle it stimulates, "you've been so good, haven't you? Done so well..."

He hushes you gently as he moves closer behind you, kneeling at the couch's edge, face level with your puffy hole. Al-haitham remains quiet this time around, his non-slick covered hand patting your head lovingly.

"It's okay~ I'll take good care of you now, I'll clean you up all nice, alright?"

You only whine when he sinks his tongue into your ass, lapping up your spilled juices and nipping at your twitching sack. Your body trembles with an absentminded moan when he sucks on your sore needy cock, and he emits a noise of suprise as a new abundance of white syrup leaks from your slit.

Al-haitham quirks up a brow, "Four times, now."

"Mercy! M-Mercy..!" You cry out.

"Oh," Lisa tuts demeaningly, "no, no, no dear one~ You see, you didn't quite seem to believe our intentions true when we offered ourselves to you. So it only seems right that we prove it, yes?"

You can't squirm away from Eula's mouth, her strength baffling as she keeps you stood still against the Grand Master's desk with ease. Amber mouths at the mounds of your pecs, obessed with how soft the skin them are.

You whimper loudly when Eula curls her two fingers into your prostate, clenching down on her and nearly screaming when she thrusts them into you punishingly.

Jean can't help but watch in stunned silence of you, your voice and body ethereal. She can't wait to get a taste of her own as you shudder and gasp.

It was bad enough when Venti had his way with you earlier under Vanessa's tree, simultaneously teasing you and giving you everything you wanted.

He ran his mouth with words that were both endearingly sweet and pure debauchery, controlling the winds to graze at your hardened nipples with ghost like touches that left you spasming and breathless.

He'd shown you his choice of belonging to you through the intimate thrusts of his hips and sloppy, loving kisses across your body--he'd then guided you back to the gates of Mondstadt with the held of the wind to keep you balanced.

You cry when a thin zap of purple shocks the tip of your pulsing cock, cumming instantly while Eula's tongue soothes over it with the help of her cryo ability. Your lewd honey drips down your stomach and onto the floor, and the blue haired girl sneers at the waste of it.

A whimper escapes you when Amber bites at your nipple a little too harshly, and she murmurs a timid apology, looking up at you reverently before continuing.

"P-Please..!" You hate how they've all been able to make you cry with pleasure, as though they always knew just what they were doing to you, "it..-it hurts now..! A-Aaahhh..."

You let out a long, breathy whine as you cum again, tears steaming down your cheeks as the gentle wave of bliss washes over you. You almost miss Acting Grand Master Jean calling for someone to enter after a knock on the door.

Humiliation of your state causes you to flush and shut your teary eyes as Kaeya walks in, gaze latching onto you immediately.

He closes the door behind him, humming lowly at the sight.

His eye glints in dirty interest, a grin creeping up his lips at the sound of your whimpers and sloppy hole.

"Oh? It's our turn already?"

"Kaeya! You're just in time," Lisa grins mischieviously, "I believe our dearly beloved is ready for something... thicker, now." She smiles as though her filthy implication were a casual statement of time.

You hate being the centre of attention, but fuck does it feel good. You hate feeling so vulnerable, but good god do they take care of you.

Maybe, just maybe you could allow yourself to indulge in their affections...

Nope.

Hate. You hate, hate, hate, hate hate it.

You whimper quietly, head bowed to hide your face from the prying eyes of the others seated around you.

You're back in the lands of Inazuma, in the very same place you were last time the picnic was set up. It was much more lavish this time around, based in the early evening with a gorgeous ocean view, lights strung up in the trees and scattered atop a few stable rocks.

The blankets laid down were much thicker this time, and the pillows larger and fluffier. The sunset paints the horizon gold and pink which fades into a rich purple and, eventually, the glimmering darkness of night.

You sit in Zhongli's lap, a spare blanket covering your lower half as you squirm on his throbbing length. You could feel his other drooling pre-cum against your lower back.

The others had been coaxing you to eat your share of the platter, Navia and Wriothesly feeding you small portions since you were too shy to do so yourself.

Though ashamed and bashful, you can't help but clench and throb, and you fluster when Zhongli lets out a small groan from behind you.

Navia places a comforting hand on your clothed knee.

"Beloved Creator, are you alright?" Her voice is soft, loving.

You swallow sharply, shoulders hunched and tense nervously from those watching.

"Your Grace?" You glance over at Diluc who huffs with a small blush of his own, "we'll take care of you."

Your ass clenches, and Zhongli thrusts into you.

You yelp at the sudden motion, straightening up instinctively to balance yourself only for your most devoted to thrust into you again, and again, and again. His arm wraps around your waist to keep you seated, and the blanket slowly slips from your lap from the movement.

"A-Ah! Zhon--aahhh!"

Squelch, plap, slap, his fat cock hits the textured roof of your squishy insides and sends an overwhelming shock of pleasure through you. Throwing your head back with a lewd moan, both your embarassment and arousal increase tenfold at the sight of your most shameless worshippers touching themselves at the sight of you.

Others swallow roughly, barely holding themselves back with a single thread of dignity. Those of them watch with eyes that burn your body into memory, and the intensity both frightens and arouses you.

The better of them murmur and coo praises at you, causing your stomach to flutter and your member to throb painfully.

You pant loudly when Ayato softly intructs you to breathe, and you squeal when Tartaglia reachs out to play with your pretty penis while rubbing his own neglected cock.

"Pl..ease..! Hah..!"

You feel a pair of lips on your neck and whine, whimpering shamefully when Neuvillette starts whispering sweet praise into your ear, sucking on your skin softly. You white knuckle the thick blanket by your forcefully opened legs and clench your eyes shut in humiliation.

Your abdomen starts to tingle with sparks of pleasure that strike your overstimulated cock, and you flush at the feeling of your sex juices trailing from your both your cock and your ass, soiling Zhongli's clothed lap and the pillows and fabric below.

"Hng! Cumming! AH!" You shriek, thrashing in their hold, "c-cumming! H-Help, 'm cumming-- oohhh~ Ohh~"

That weird prickly feeling coils in your tummy again, and you let out a lewd and bratty whine when they don't let up on their touching.

"S-Slow! PLEASE! F-Fuck! Feels funn-y~!"

When you slap at Childe's hand, your own are quickly restrained by Kazuha who simply smiles with red cheeks and mutters to you flowery reassurances.

The sound of your asshole is loud, it's noisy, and filthy. You emit a desperate, pleading wail, not knowing if your subconscious is trying to beg them to stop or to stay.

Saliva pools in your mouth that then begins to hang open as your starry eyes roll into the back of your head, chest heaving.

Your thighs tremble and your fingers twitch--Kazuha intertwines them with his own, and you lock onto the comforting hold.

"G-Good!" You can't stop yourself from babbling, "m-makes me feel soOo goood~!"

"Oh, sweet one~" Yae Miko giggles.

"You understand that we choose you now, yes?" Ningguang hums with a teasing quip. Her eyes torn between your adorably lewd features and your swollen, glistening length.

"Relax, beloved. It's only us, your most faithful~"

"Mm, don't hold back, dearest."

"Can you moan for us, beloved? You sound just delicious when you moan!"

"Are you gonna cum for us?"

"It's not fair how they got a taste of you first~!"

"Hng..! A-ah, hah!"

"Oh-oh! Beloved, calm down, you're alright. Just let it happen.."

"Do you feel good, your Grace?"

"--c-cumming- cumming! Cumming..!"

A white hot blaze of heat crashes over you, and your ears ring as your body trembles in utter bliss. Your slickened hole squeezes and gushes with your lewd honey, and as your abused, pulsing cock sears with an almost painful pleasure, your body squirts out your most powerful orgasm that soaks the blankets and the people surrounding.

Pleasure caused tears leave hot stains on your face, and your head lulls to the side tiredly. Your chest heaves for breath as you come down from your high, and it takes a few moments before the ringing finally stops and you can hear again.

Doting whispers and coos are the first thing you process, followed by something thick and hot leaking out of your stretched and now empty ass.

A hand caresses your head as many others touch on you innocently, checking in on you and taking care of you.

Someone holds a glass to your lips, and someone else helps you lean forwards to sip.

You startle at the feeling of a soft mouth coming to gingerly lick and suck at your sore cock, and you let out a delirious whine.

Another acolyte hushes you gently, kissing you softly before another joins in peppering kisses all over your tired face to distract you from the one cleaning you up between your legs.

You still feel light headed from the embarassment of it all, but you've latched onto the pleasant tingling you feel when they look at you so adoringly--more lovingly than just in reverence.

No, actually.

You don't hate this at all.

[larluce]

Arthur confinment in his royal chambers! WHAT happened!

HA, HA! Well in my fic "From the Grave to the Cradle" Arthur grow up in Ealdor with Merlin and is raised by a farmer old couple. The confinment happens after Uther discovers Arthur is The Lost Prince, ergo his lost son. Arthur refuses to accept Uther is his father for all the horribles things Uther has done and wants to escape, so Uther locks him up in his chambers cause what a better way to reconect with your lost son? :D . Arthur is also freaking out cause they took Merlin for interrogation and hasn't been able to see him since he's been locked up, so, after his attempts to fight the guards and escape through the window didn't work out, he goes on a hunger strike and refuses to eat anything until they let him see Merlin.

Having that context. Here my little snippet of the fic:

Arthur's confinement in his Royal Chambers

Merlin: (enters Arthur's chambers with a tray of food)

Arthur: Merlin! (runs to him and starts checking him)

Merlin: Careful! Don't drop the food.

Arthur: (his hands end up in the curves between Merlin's neck and shoulders) Are you okay? They didn't do anything to you?

Merlin: (he shakes his head and smiles reassuringly) They just asked me a few questions. There were some threats, but they didn't touch me, I promise.

Arthur sighs in relief. Although they told him they would only interrogate his friend, he could not trust the word of a king who is known for torturing his prisoners until he gets the confession he wants.

Merlin brakes away from his friend's grasp to place the tray on the table... but he found it lying on the floor, as well as the chair and everything else. "They didn't exaggerate when they say he destroyed the entire room," he thinks. Everything breakable was broken. The wood of the furniture must be of very good quality if the chair and table were still intact. A flash of gold of his eyes and the table and the chair are upright again. Happy, he places the food on the table.

Arthur: (angry and scared) Merlin!

Merlin: What? There's nobody here. And I had my hands full, how was I going to move it?

Arthur: You could have asked me to move it for you!

Merlin: Oh... I... I didn't think about it. Sorry.

"You're not supposed to do it, you're the prince" is what he really meant to say, but he kept it to himself. He has the impression his friend won't receive those words well. Furthermore, he has to learn to turn off his servant mode if even his magic was willing to serve Arthur without a question.

He looks at Arthur, he is still very shaken and Merlin knows it isn't just due to his ill-timed display of magic. He sighs, Arthur doesn't need a servant now, he needs his friend.

Merlin: Sit, you look like you're going to faint (guides him to the chair) How are you?

Arthur: How am I? I just discovered I'm the son of a genocidal tyrant! I'm supposed to be the prince, but no one listens to me in this castle and I'm locked in my own "chambers" which is bigger than my house in Ealdor! Ealdor who is still waiting for our food supplies! Ealdor that is where we should be!

Merlin: Arthur…

Arthur: (sad) I just want to go home.

Merlin: (sits on the table, infront of Arthur) I would give anything to get you out of here. It's not fair that they force you to have a life you don't want. But we have to be realistic, even if we managed to escape and return to Ealdor, that is where they would look for us first. It would be of no use. And if Camelot soldiers are seen in Essetir we could cause a war.

Arthur: We can run away somewhere else! To another kingdom, a forest, an island, anywhere! Anywhere but here.

Merlin: We could never settle down, we would always live on the run and in fear. And Uther will always look for someone to blame. We are talking about the same king who started a purge against all the sorcerers in the world because a sorceress killed his wife! What do you think he'll do if he thinks his son was kidnapped again?

Arthur: No one is kidnapping me!

Merlin: But he's not going to see it that way! Don't you get it? If he doesn't find villains he invents them! Just a moment ago... (stops himself)

Arthur: A moment ago, what?

Merlin: A moment ago I was almost accused of being an accomplice to the person who stole you as a baby.

More specifically by Gaius and he had to figure out how to pose as another victim of the "evil sorcerer", but Arthur didn't have to know all the details.

Arthur: (in full panic) WHAT?!

Merlin: I know, ridiculous right? Luckily I was able to make them understand that you are two years older than me and, as incredible as it may seem, one cannot collaborate in the kidnapping of a newborn baby if this person hasn't, you know, been born.

Arthur calms down and sighs, as defeat overcomes him. Merlin is right, they could never truly be free. They were screwed. He was starting to get depressed again, when he sees his friend picking at his food. That wasn't unusual, in Ealdor they shared food all the time. The strange thing was that Merlin is making a pause before moving on to the next meal. Like doing a countdown in his head.

Arthur:  What are you doing?

Merlin: Checking that the food is not poisoned, my lord. It would be a disgrace if you were killed in your first day as a Prince. (Does another mental countdown)... 3... 2...1... Yup, I'm still alive. You can eat.

Arthur: Merlin.

Merlin: Do you want me to cut your royal meat for your royal person? We don't want your delicate royal hands to make such mundane physical exertion only worthy of commoners.

Arthur: Merlin.

Merlin: Or would Your Royal Highness prefer that I also feed you in your mouth?

Arthur: I got it, I got it! (he tries to look annoyed, but despite himself he laughs) I'll eat.

They both eat in comfortable silence.

Merlin: I don't know what's going to happen from now on, but I promise I won't leave you alone. We will face whatever comes together. (he takes Arthur's hand comfortingly) So please don't get into fights with guards... or break things... or jump out of windows.

Arthur: I didn't jump out of any windows!

Merlin: (points at the blocked window in the room with his head)

Arthur: (blushes) I wasn't trying to jump. I was going to use a rope to climb down and escape.

Merlin: A rope?

Merlin looks around and sees the bed sheets lying on the floor tied together.

Merlin: That would have broken as soon as you used it.

Arthur: (offended) Are you calling me fat?

Merlin: No, but those sheets are silk. A very expensive, delicate and, therefore, breakable material. You were saved from a very certain and humiliating death.

Arthur: Oh... (blushes more)

Merlin laughs, which makes Arthur smile. At least he still has Merlin.

Arthur: I don't know who stole me, kidnapped me or whatever, but I'm glad they did it.

Merlin: (surprised) Really?

Arthur: Yes! Can you imagine me growning up with that man as a father? He would have turned me into a tyrant and a murderer like him, a heartless monster.

Merlin: (shouts) That's not true! (notices his outburst and composes himself) I mean... I'm sure you would have been a very noble and kind prince, and a great king eventually despite having such a horrible father.

Arthur: How are you so sure of that?

Merlin: (thinking) I know. I saw it.

Merlin: Because you have a big heart. (He puts a hand on his chest) Full of love and compassion for the people around you. That's something you're born with. (His hand moves to Arthur's shoulder) Not everything is determined by upbringing, nor is everything determined by blood. You and Uther share the same blood and look how different you are from him! If you had grown up here as a prince, you wouldn't be much different. Arrogant, perhaps, much more than you already are. Just as stupid, yes, definitely…

Arthur: Hey!

Merlin: But in essence you would still be the Arthur I know.

Merlin: (thinking) You're still my Arthur. The Arthur I fell in love with.

Arthur: Maybe… (caresses the hand Merlin put on his shoulder) but it would still be a very miserable life.

Merlin: Why?

Arthur: Because I would have never met you.

"No, in all lives we are destined to meet" Merlin thinks, but the words are said with so much feeling and Arthur looks at him with such intensity that he is left breathless, lost in his eyes. Merlin is more aware of the hand on his, giving light caresses with his thumb. Merlin doesn't know when he leaned so close to Arthur, or did Arthur get closer? But suddenly the distance between his faces is reduced considerably.

Merlin: Arthur…

Merlin has no idea what he was going to say, nor will he know. Suddenly, the doors to the chambers open wide again, causing both of them to immediately pull away, embarrassed. Merlin gets off the table and stands to the side in a servant's pose.

Guard: (bows to Arthur) Your highness. I hope you enjoyed your meal. (Looks meaningfully at Merlin)

"Did he eat everything?" the guard's eyes asks him. Merlin nods his head slightly in response, "Yes, he didn't leave a single bite." Well, he ate a little of that too, but details.

Arthur: It was... not so bad.

While Arthur is still embarrased about almost being found in a compromising situation, he notices the exchange between the guard and his friend, puzzled. Everyone already knows the farce, why does Merlin keep pretending to be a servant? Or were they forcing him to act like this now that he is the prince?

Guard: (to Merlin) You did a good job, boy, you can leave.

Merlin nods again and is about to leave when a hand grabs his arm tightly.

Arthur: (sharply) No.

Merlin: Arthur…

Arthur: He can sleep here. The room is big enough for both of us.

Merlin: Arthur, that's not right.

Arrhur: I don't give a damn what's right or wrong! I'm not going to let them take you away from me again!

Merlin would be very touched by his friend's concern, if it weren't for the fact that the guard seems to have every intention of pulling them apart by force if necessary and that would only make things worse, because then there would be another fight, they would bring in reinforcements and there will be chaos.

He turns to face Arthur and gives him a reassuring smile.

Merlin: They're not taking me away. I'll be back in the morning. Someone has to make you eat your breakfast (meaningful look at the guard) Isn't that right?

Guard: Of course, the boy will be here as soon as you get up, sire.

Arthur wants to retort, but Merlin begs him with his eyes not to. "Don't fight with guards," he remembers Merlin told him.

Arthur: (sighs resigned, but calmer) Alright. But it better be that way, I'm not going to receive food from anyone else, understand?

Guard: Yes, sire.

Arthur: And also give him food and a bed to sleep in. He is not a prisoner or a servant in this castle. He is a guest, treat him as such. If I discover you have done him any harm, I myself will harm you back a thousand times worse.

Guard: The boy will be treated with the respect he deserves, sire. No harm will befall him.

Merlin noted the trick by saying "he will be treated with the respect he deserves" to avoid the explanation of "We cannot treat a peasant as a guest, but we will give him the best treatment accordingly." Very clever, Merlin thought.

Arthur: And Frank?

Guard: Yes, sire?

Arthur: Please stop calling me "sire". You make me feel old.

Guard: Yes, sir-your highness.

Merlin and Arthur give each other a heartfelt hug as farewell. Then, Merlin picks up the tray and leaves the room. They stare at each other until the door is closed between them and the guards lock the doors again.

[olderthannetfic]

I always see people who have never been antis, talking about/questioning how some antis even ARE antis when you look at their taste in media - ie the ever famous joke of "Hannigram is #problematique" "but it's a show where he eats people" or whatever.

I thought I'd weigh in as someone who could, hypothetically, be called an ex-anti (which, thankfully, nothing ever really came out of it - it was just very 2014 keyboardwarrior-esque behavior of me being a chronically online young adult who would share posts in a group chat making fun of certain shippers, or reblog posts about how 50shades is The Most Problematic Media Ever to exist -- basically I was an anti with anti-lines of thoughts, but i never, like, a ran a Shipping Discourse Blog or whatever)

For me, personally, it was a few different things. I can now see how it's incredibly hypocritical that teenaged me shipped Light/L, while still thinking that Dramione was Bad And Abusive. It ultimately boiled down to a) being pretentious, and b) just not understanding media or what proshippers REALLY believed, with a side of c) not realizing that nuance exists. like i was pretty late to join tumblr, I think I immigrated here during PEAK "yourfaveisproblematic" era which definitely did have an impact on my opinions and my tastes.

to elaborate, a.) being pretentious. i mean this one just kinda goes without saying. "I engage in media in a way more intellectual way than you do, don't you know that? You're a filthy and disgusting person who writes Snape/Hermione because you're an actually disgusting pedophile IRL who would probably date your own student that you're abusing if you could. Meanwhile, I'm a very smart, good, and pure person. When I read Uncle Vernon/Harry, I'm doing it in a G-d honoring whump way that clearly condemns abuse, incest, and rape. Unlike YOU who only writes harmful stuff as a way to get people off :/"

(as an aside, i think this line of thinking will ALWAYS be present in fandom and popculture in some way, sadly. ie the recent trend of people hating on booktok bc the books are 'trashy' and how these porn addicts should read real classic literature instead.)

as for b.), not understanding media - i cannot emphasize enough that i was GENUINELY stupid and disconnected enough to think that proshippers REALLY WERE pro-All Of The Degenerate Dead Doves That They Wrote.

why did i feel this way? why did i understand that Lolita clearly isnt pro-pedophilia, but for some reason i thought that someone shipping weecest was? well, first of all, i think that fanfiction is (generally) seen as Less Serious than classic literature, and fandom is a fun place, so i guess i somehow thought that every fanfic/fanartist who wrote Problematic Things, especially Problematic Things that they portrayed as Sexy, really DID enjoy the thought of that Actually Happening To Real People.

and i think THIS is the bulk of why antis ARE antis. i'm not calling them all stupid - i do think BEING an anti is stupid, but at the same time, there are people who are truly smart and good-intended people who just have some really off color opinions about, like, homestuck ships or whatever. Lawlight is okay because notebooks that kill people don't exist so it's IMPOSSIBLE for the Harmful Aspects of Light/L to be romanticized! but schoolyard prejudiced bullies DO exist and are a REAL problem so Drarry is BAD (*truly completely unaware of the fact that there's 'realistic' aspects of the Light/L dynamic and 'unrealistic' aspects of Drarry - such as, for example, Hogwarts arguably being even MORE of a fantasy setting than DN is.*) I know that media literacy is the hot buzzword of the year to throw around in 2024, but, like, i really did not have media literacy.

as for c.), not realizing nuance exists - ok "nuance" might not be the best word here, but i dont know how else to describe it. like, each time ive typed the word "problematic" out in this ask, i've done so in a very tongue in cheek/ironic/retroactive way, but, like, those posts about how Everything Is Problematic, Including Your Fave ARE true. and i didn't like the fact that my favorite media or favorite person might've Made A Mistake! i need to Talk About Its Issues Because I'm So Betrayed That My Dear Sweet Comfort Media Would Do This To Me. I Need To Prove I Clearly Condemn It.

like, i legit morally could not justify reblogging a twilight post without adding in the tags '#this is my guilty pleasure it sucks that the books were so racist though' or whatever. Most people were lucky enough to avoid that line of thinking, but there was an actual group of people who felt a genuine need to virtue signal all the time, partly bc, hey, they WERE passionate about talking abt #issues in media, but also bc of a subconscious fear of If You Reblog A Singular Piece Of Hetalia Fanart, You're Literally A Nazi And Will Get A Callout Post Written About You.

and during all of this i was at the tail end of my high school experience (yes i know im younger than most of your audience, ha). i was going through A Lot emotionally, going through a lot of life changes, and lived in a very . . . interesting household/place where i couldn't do ACTUAL good in the world that i was passionate about. so to make up for the fact that i was genuinely in no place to do legit activism, clearly i had to save the gay community by arguing about johnlock queerbaiting or whatever.

^ and honestly i do think that is the position of most antis. theyre isolated and cant seem to do Enough in the Real Scary World so they have to resort to talking about how bad of a person someone is for "shipping abuse", bc theyre not in a situation where they could, for example, ACTUALLY fight the good fight to end abuse or raise awareness for it.

There was way more to it and way more that I could say, if I wanted to, but this post is long enough as it is and probably doesn't make much sense.

I feel bad for antis, honestly, or at least the ones who are antis in the way I used to be.

--

Oh yes, passionate young fools who think they can at least fix the internet if not their lives make up most of the cannon fodder. Some of the ringleaders are just mini dictators and wannabe cult leaders, but most anti-leaning types are just traumatized or clueless, even a lot of the ones who do serious damage and don't just mock shit in private with their friends.

[anemos-orca]

Xiao loves how you...

contains: No NSFW, fluffy only :D, gender neutral!reader x Xiao (no pronouns used), reader loves biology, not proof-read at all qwq

summary: The things you do that Xiao find so endearing about you :3

A/N: idrk what this is :x i guess a compilation of cute xiao thoughts? idk qwq lots of biology stuff because thats my thing •w• if you cant tell, i love xiao so much -w-

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Xiao would find it difficult to admit it out loud if you asked, but he couldnt get enough of you.

Xiao loved how passionate you were about your work and the things you loved, the way your enthusiasm guided your life and led you to be as sweet, caring, and compassionate as you were.

The way you got down to eye level with the dogs and cats in the harbor to say hello and pet them, even though doing such with every animal you passed made your trips take far longer than they realistically should.

The way your voice shrunk into a soft coo with the shy cats and grew into an ecsatic yip to rial up the dogs, talking to them like they could answer back.

The way you made an effort to memorize each of their names and the places they did and did not like to be pet, all to make them happy because, in your words, "They dont live all that long compared to us, so every bit of affection counts."

You were caring to all, so gentle and sweet, no matter who they were.

Xiao loved how expressive your face and body language were, and how each subtle movement betrayed your every emotion (even in times you didnt particularly want to be read like a book).

How you werent ever restless when you worked- he never failed to notice how you could sit for hours and study the behaviors of even the slowest, most boring koi in a pond without so much as a shifty-eyed glance of boredom. He could never sit and study things with you for the full amount of time because of how thurough you were.

He loved the way your nose scrunched up in disgust at the silliest things and how your eyes seemed to light up with excitement every time you saw something cool, even if it was just a pesky beetle that found its way onto the railing.

He loved the way you became so flustered every time he would so much as mention how adorable you looked when you were intruiged by something- especially when he caught you crouched down and wide-eyed as you watched a plant idly sway in the breeze, your attention so fixed on the sessile organism that you hadnt noticed Xiao kneeling down next to you. He tried to be sorry for startling you so badly that you fell onto your face, but it was hard to take you seriously when your cheeks were flushed such a bright red and you stammered over every word that fell from your lips.

Xiao couldnt get enough of how cute you were. If he truly wanted to, he could go on and on listing the adorable things you did, but he was the Conqueror of Demons, not the Conqueror of Having-A-Hard-Time-With-Expressing-Human-Emotions.

How you clutched that old, flattened koi plush close to your chest each night as you slept curled up in his arms. Even on the nights he couldnt join you as you fell asleep, he would come to your shared room at the Inn to check on you, comforted when he would find that you had fallen asleep wrapped around your plushie. He was always glad that you were fully asleep when he checked in on you because if you woke up from the hushed sound of his Wind-Cycle as he teleported into the room and saw him planting the most gentle of kisses to your lips, his one hand draped over your shoulder and the other cupping your cheek, he would be too embarrassed to even speak. You wouldnt tell him, but you secretly knew that he did this every night he couldnt be in bed with you.

He craved the way your face softened when you kissed him. He was addicted to it. The way you held his cheeks oh-so gently, your soft, warm hands keeping his mind steady as you leaned in and pressed such intimate little kisses all over his face. The way you paid special attention to his lips, knowing that he loved those kisses the most. After a long day of slaughtering countless demons, coming home to such soft and adorable mannerisms was all he wanted- and he got it every time.

He loved how adorable you looked when you cuddled him. He didnt get it at first, but after a few times, he found himself hungry for more and excitedly expecting it each night. He didnt know how you did it (and even thought it was some sort of demon-spell-trickery-hoopla at first), but now that he felt what it was to be held close, to be snuggled, to cuddle, he desired more and more each time. He loved the way you balled up in his arms on some nights and sloppily laid across his chest on others. He even loved how, when you were especially exhausted, you drooled on his shirt, leaving a wet, darkened mark that the other Adepti teased him about. He was once embarrassed about it, but after a moment of thought about how you were his only, your drool marks were his only, your sleepy face was his only, your love was his only, he wore your drool mark with pride every other night it happened from then on out. He was the only one who would ever have your drool, so that made it exclusive and special. No matter how much anyone envied the fact that he was the one who got to hold you in his arms while you fell asleep, they would never get to have you. You were his, and his only. Drool included.

Xiao loved you. All of you. And he would continue to do so forever, no matter what. Even if you scolded him (with the most endearing blush-covered cheeks, he'd like to add) for startling you and making you fall on your face. Even if you took an excessively long amount of time every trip to the harbor because you wanted to "catch up" with the animals. Even if you drooled on his shirt because of how tired you were. He was tough, callous, and sometimes even came across as cold or flat out rude to others, but knowing that you saw the real him, the Xiao no one else got to see, was enough to make him feel soft and fuzzy inside. And for that, he loved you very, very much.

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