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justanotherescapism · 8 months ago

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Hello idk if you would be able to write a nsfw and sfw alphabet for Wolverine ( also if you see that a letter can stand for something else feel free to change it!!! Your headcanons for that men man have me in love with your work) love ya

Wolverine/Logan SFW Alphabet

A/N: hope you enjoy! <3

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Logan isn’t one for huge displays of affection but rather chooses to show his affection more subtly. A hand on your knee or an arm round your waist. He’d always listen to what you have to say whether it’s something complex or just about your day. Just spending time with your is how he shows his love.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

After you saved him from Sabre, he’d feel like he owes you and would accompany on missions. He’d be very protective, and it wouldn’t go unnoticed but the rest of the team. You’d end up being with him a lot and hanging out, sharing drinks and talking till late in the morning.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Logan tells you he doesn’t like to cuddle but really he enjoys feeling you in his arms. Every night he’d open his arms for you to snuggle up to his chest. He’d pretend to hate it but he’d always have a smile on his face.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

When you’re with Wolverine, settling down isn’t really an option, he’s always on missions and likewise so are you. However, you find your own domestic bliss at the mansion. Teaching the kids and supervising them is it’s own job, but you’d also find time to just relax.

Logan would not be good at cooking or cleaning but he’d make an effort for you. Would it take 5 hours and several packs of pasta to make spaghetti? Yes, but you’d appreciate it all the same.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Simple and blunt. He’d sit you down and end it quickly. Honestly, it wouldn’t be comforting but cold.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He’d want to commit, fully but so scared and worried about your future, he’d suppress any feelings. What if he lost his memory again? What if you died on a mission? He’d be too scared to commit but eventually would admit everything to you. After some reassurance (a lot) he’d feel better about it but takes some time to come round to actually proposing.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

When Wolverine wants to be rough, he is. But, most of the time he’s gentle and calm. He’s not so good with emotional stuff but he’d tried his best. When your sad, he’d hold you and stroke your hair, when you’re angry he’d listen to you.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Logan is not a big hugger, he’d only hug you when he’s scared he had lost you or in moments where he can’t convey his emotions with his words. He’d wrap his arms around your waist and pull you in close, burying his head in your neck.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes time, but he’d do a lot to show his love like holding you a tiny bit closer when he’s scared or remembering your anniversary with your favourite flowers.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Very, especially around his fellow x-men. He also makes a show of kissing and holding you. Cyclops looks at you slightly differently than usual? Logan will pull you into a rough kiss. My god, you want to say you hate it but really you find it kind of endearing, however, sometimes it is a little too much. You'd try to communicate this to him, but he just pretends he doesn't know what you mean. If you're a little toxic, you might flirt with another member of the team, when Logan gets jealous, you'll give him a knowing look. He'll finally accept that he is maybe a little too jealous.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Mostly rough, the type of kiss that makes your head spin. He'd pull you in by the waist, gripping onto your clothes. If you're alone, he'd push you up against a wall, either lifting you up or holding you in place. However, on occasion, he'll give you the most gentle and loving kisses, conveying what he can't in words. These are the types of kisses that you feel in your chest. His hands would caress your cheek and all the world would disappear.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Logan is not exactly the greatest with kids, but he tries. He swears to much, drinks too much and quite frankly is a bit too grumpy for their antics. However, when he is in the proximity of children - which at the mansion happens often - he's often quite caring towards them, even if he won't admit this. When a kid has a nightmare, he's the first one to respond. He'd say how annoying it is, but when that little hand holds his he'd have a little smile on his face.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

You trying to get up, and him pulling you down, back into his chest. He'd love to snuggle up and keep warm for as long as possible. He's sleepy and soft, really the only time he's relaxed.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Logan often has nightmares and disturbed sleep, so often you are woken up by him shouting or shooting out of bed. You'd calm him but sometimes it would take a while. However, once he's calm, he'd collapse into your lap, you stroking his hair, as he recovers.

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?)

Logan is essentially a blank slate, all that he knows you have both lived through so he is very much an open book in that respect. However, when it comes to emotions and his opinions, it takes a while for him to open up. He always jokes around deep topics, but eventually he'd give you real answers and not dance around the question. It would take a while for him to trust you, but when he does he spills everything to you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

When it comes to you he's soft, and would have a lot of patience. However, no one else has this luxury, and with them, he's quick to anger. His temper is short, and anything can set him off, the other x-men often rely on you to help calm him down. Other times, he'll come to you and start ranting and raving about the situation.

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 remembers everything, every fine detail. Having lost a lot of his memories, he savours every moment in his mind. But he rarely shows this, simply choosing to pretend he forgot. Most of the time this is to hear you tell him again but also because he is worried you might thinks he's too soft or weird for remembering where you bought a specific blue jumper from 3 years ago.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The moment he asked you a date. You both flirted for months on end, the other x-men hated it, telling you both to get a room, but you were worried he'd never make the first move. When he finally took the hint and was going to ask you, he stood outside your door for 10 minutes trying to think of what to say. Just when he was about to knock, you opened the door, you were dressed up nice. He asked where you were going, and you said a date. He asked with who, and you simply grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the mansion.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Logan protective? There is no one more protective. He is always on the look out for danger, even when there is nothing to be worried about. He likes to know where you are and safe, not in a controlling way but to know you're safe, he doesn't care where you are necessarily.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Harder than most would expect. He always remembers anniversaries and birthdays with flowers and a cute date. Everyday tasks are a bit more strenuous, he doesn't always understand what he is supposed to do. That isn't for lack of trying though, but sometimes you'd have to give him pointers, like the dishes or taking out a load of laundry. But there would be no complaints from him.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Sometimes his protectiveness and jealously can get extreme, especially in times of stress. If there is some villain running around, he'd barely let you go outside for fear of you getting hurt. You'd constantly remind him that you are capable of taking care of yourself but he wouldn't hear it. He can get stubborn to the point that you want to rip your hair out.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Not very. He doesn't age like a normal man so he doesn't have to worry about his physical appearance.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes, when he is away from you, he is more grumpy and colder than usual. He would be snarky, stubborn and evasive, sometimes to the point of risking a mission.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He would always buy you flowers for any occasion or just randomly, and you'd dry press them so you can keep them forever. But it's gotten to the point where you have too many. So he'd buy you a chest-like box, that's ornate and detailed. Inside you keep all of the flowers, and other sentimental things from your relationship.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Logan doesn't like baby talk or being childish in that way. It's one of his few turn offs, at the end of the day, he is decades older than he looks so it would just give him the ick.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Bad, he'd constantly wake up due to night terrors, often waking you alongside him. It would take time to calm him down, but eventually he'd be able to go to sleep.

#x men #wolverine headcanons #wolverine x reader #wolverine #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x oc #the wolverine #hugh jackman #x men x reader

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zepskies · 4 months ago

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Watching Ben struggle on his attempts at making a meal on his own, after an argument, would be so funny. Like I could imagine him taking out a box of pasta then saying fuck it after reading the instructions Not even getting past step 2.

LOL that's for sure how it would go. 🤣

I have an ongoing headcanon that despite Soldier Boy/Ben's macho "I'm a real man" attitude, he hasn't had to cook for himself pretty much ever in life, so he'd be completely inept in the kitchen, save for maybe making coffee.

(Actual live footage of Ben fucking up):

That's why I wrote that scene at the end of Break Me Down Part 6, where the reader realizes this about him and finesses him into helping her cook spaghetti -- one of the most basic forms of pasta there is. 😝

Seriously, the man can't even chop an onion. It's both sad and hilarious, at least to me lol. (It's also meant to be their first genuine Beauty & the Beast moment of, "there's something there that wasn't there before.")

But even though she's laughing at him, she still helps him with grace:

As Ben was peeling the stubborn hide off the vegetable, it slipped out of his frustrated hands and rolled away. Thankfully it stopped just shy of falling off the counter.

You couldn’t help a small giggle at his expense. He had the strength of twenty men or whatever, but he couldn’t chop an onion to save his life.

Ben shot you a wryly amused look. “Oh, you better not be fucking laughing at me.”

That just made you laugh in earnest, even though you covered your mouth with your hand. His grin deepened at the sound, despite the embarrassment making his face and neck warm up.

He grabbed the hateful head of veg and looked anywhere but you as he got ready to try again. There was no way he was letting you, or this fucking onion, make a fool out of him.

But your soft hand soon covered over his. You offered him a genuine smile, your eyes gleaming.

“Want me to show you a trick I learned?” you asked.

He hesitated, but he eventually moved over and let you in on the action. You took up the knife, held down the onion, and cut the ends off first. Then you were able to more easily peel off the rest of the outer layer.

“You can do this part any way you want, really. But I like to cut it down the middle first, then chop up one half at a time like this,” you explained.

And you felt Ben move in closer behind you to watch your methodical work.

The heat from his proximity actually made you start to blush like a damn school girl. You tried to stamp it down, but heat flared into your cheeks when his hand covered yours and took back the knife.

“All right, all right, I got it. Move over,” he said.

You huffed, but you grinned and let him continue…

By the way his eyes later lit up when he tasted the meal, you knew he really did like your cooking. Now, you didn’t want to feed his outdated views on gender roles…but you could admit, seeing him enjoy something so simple as your grandma’s spaghetti recipe was gratifying.

It wasn’t the first time you’d shared a decent moment with Ben. But it was the first time that it hadn’t felt like an act. You didn’t know what to do with that—or the conflicted feeling making your heart ache.

And you certainly didn’t want to find anything about him endearing.

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

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abiatackerman · 11 months ago

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Red Date

Warnings: Description of sexual arousal (NSFW)

The atmosphere in your office is so calm and peaceful as you work. The day's temperature is comforting also it seems the bugs have also decided not to disturb you today. You keep working as you hum in a peaceful mind until you hear someone calling you by your name.

"Y/N!"

You look up from your paperwork as you hear Levi's stern voice. You were so consumed in your work that you didn't even notice him entering.

"Hey Levi! Sorry, didn't notice you. Need anything?"

You speak, smiling sweetly as always.

"I want to take you out tonight"

Levi says with a straight up blunt tone making you look up at him with shock. His face shows no emotion on it. He stares at you waiting for your answer. Though, on the inside, the nerves and butterflies were going crazy.

"Take out? Where?"

You ask him with shock, confusion and curiosity.

"Dinner. Somewhere with no people. Somewhere nice"

Levi says as he shifts the weight between both his legs. A sign of nervousness.

He is nervous. He has never dated anyone. Hell, he has barely been around women. Yet you are the exception. You're the one he wants to keep, being around and spend time with and never let go.

You smile at his slightly nervous expression.

"Well, I'm free tonight. Also it's boring just to eat the regular bread and soup of the regiment... So why not?"

Levi's eyes brighten when he hears your answer. Yes! You said yes! Yet the excitement is hidden behind a stoic poker face.

"Meet me behind HQ an hour after the sunset."

His words are straight to the point as usual.

"Why behind the hq?"

You ask with confusion.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out"

Levi speaks bluntly as he answers your question simply. You just chuckle.

"Since you saved my life twice... I guess I'll trust you."

Levi nods his head to your answer. His face is still expressionless. Though inside he's happy as hell after knowing that you trust him.

"Now…keep preparing your papers. And don't be late."

Levi says before he turns and leaves the infirmary.

An hour after sunset, as promised, Levi is behind HQ, waiting on you. His usual expression on his face, and his hands shoved into his pockets. A slight look of boredom in his eyes as he waited for you to show up.

Something red catches his eyes and he looks at the gate. His eyes widened slightly seeing you in your red dress. You're wearing a simple round necked wine red dress which reaches upto your knee. As always no makeup on your face without that damn red lipstick of yours. Your hair is tied up in a loose bun, revealing your soft addictive neck.

On the other side, your eyes are widened too. The wholes place is nicely decorated by candles and in the middle there's a red blanket on the green grass which has a table on the corner of it. The table is decorated nicely too. With dinner set and by the smell you can tell it's spaghetti hidden under those legent utensils.

"Levi?"

You look around and gasp again.

"You look beautiful Y/N. Now come, sit."

Levi speaks as he gestured for you to come over to the blanket. His eyes taking you all in.

"Ahhh thank you."

You gasp in shock again as he compliments you. This is the first time you're hearing him calling someone beautiful. You walk towards the blanket and sit down on the chair Levi pulls out for you.

"You know, I thought you wanted no one to know that we're going out. That's why you told me to come here... But I never even imagined these arrangements! How many people helped you?"

Levi shrugs his shoulders before he sits down, across from her. He seems pleased with himself at your expression.

"Four people. Hange included."

Levi says simply and calmly. He gestures to the rose near you, then to the food and wine before them.

"Who are the three others? Erwin is one of em I'm sure... But the other two?

You ask softly, taking the rose and sniffing it.

"Miche and Eld. They're trustworthy. They'll keep their mouth shut. Now, eat. There's plenty to share, and don't even think of complaining about the food, because I won't listen."

You ignore him as you take a deep breath and gather your courage. Leaning forward, you softly press a kiss on his cheeks, letting your lips linger on his cheek for a bit as you close your eyes and take in his scent. The small gesture is more than enough to light a fire in his lower regions. He gulps as he feels himself getting hard.

Not now, damnit!

He curses himself as his heart beats crazily.

"Now…if you would sit back, we shall eat"

Levi speaks, his mind is reeling.

"Sorry there's uh... Lipstick stains on your cheek."

You speak in an embarrassed and shy tone as your lips are pressed into a thin line and your cheeks are pink.

"It's fine… It'll wash off."

Levi says as he grabs the glass of wine and took a small sip to calm his mind down. He sets the wine down on the edge of the table. His eyes go to the food.

"I wanted to thank you. It's so romantic. I never thought you would do something for me."

You smile shyly as you speak.

"You can thank me properly later. Now eat your food and keep those gorgeous lips off of me until you finish eating. I'm not complaining either way.…"

Levi says as He takes another small sip of wine. You sigh and look up at the sky.

"These types of moments..... In a silent place, in between nature... Heaven."

Levi looks up at the sky as well at your words. It is relaxing. So quiet and pretty. He can forget there are any titans, or people in the outer world who wanted them dead.

Just him, and you.

"Yes…it's nice. To not think or have a worry in the world, even if momentarily…"

"Yeah right. Anyway who cooked them?"

You look at the delicious spaghetti as you ask.

"Eld cooked it. Miche made sure it was cooked right. And no, they didn't spit in the food before they gave it to me. I'm not that cruel for that."

"Spit in the food? That's hilarious, Levi!"

You laugh loudly.

"Shut it. Now eat up. You look like you're about to faint from no food."

He mutters before he pushes a plate full of spaghetti towards you. You roll your eyes.

"You know I don't eat much. I have a petite body. I need a little food."

You say as you take the spaghetti and start eating. Your eyes widened at it's delicious taste. Also not to mention you are hungry.

"You eat like a small bird…"

Levi says as he watches you dig into the food. You furrow your eyebrows.

"Do you want me to eat like a pig and look like a mini elephant?"

You ask as you take another spoonful of spaghetti.

"No, I'm not saying you have to eat like a pig. Just eat a normal meal every once and a while. Learn from Hange and Erwin. They eat like animals."

"Erwin's gonna love to hear that. Eat like an animal? Levi... I really love talking to you. You're funny."

"Just eat. Don't be picky. You're skinny as a stick as it is"

"No, I'm not."

You protest, still smiling. Levi smiles a little too. It is entertaining watching your sarcastic way to get back at him for insulting you. The way you insulted him was cute and bravely to him. When everyone gets scared and despise him because of his rude words, you enjoy them.

He loves it. Addicted to it.....

"You're the only woman I know who's attracted to being insulted by someone."

"You're the only man I know who is attracted to a girl like that."

You talk back, immediately.

"True. I can't imagine other men being attracted to a woman who's as small as a stick"

"I had a lot of men wanting me. You can be sure of it."

Levi raises an eyebrow at your cocky smile.

"Then go ahead. Name them"

Levi says with a pissed tone and a slight expression of jealousy in his face.

"I don't want you to beat them up."

You chuckle as you hold a spoonful of spaghetti in front of his mouth.

"You're not feeding me."

He says as he reaches forward and shoves a large portion of pasta in your mouth so that way you can't speak… Or protest. You groan and gulp the pasta and glare at him.

"It's my turn!"

You say and without any hesitation, you suddenly get on his lap with the spoon.

"What are you doing?"

He asks, as he feels himself getting slightly harder. Not to mention you are sitting right on his bulge. The softness of your ass almost made him moan.

"Feeding you. Say aaaaaa...."

You say as you hold his chin and the spoonful of spaghetti in front of his lips ignoring the large hardened cock under you.

"Aaaa"

Levi opened up his mouth and leaned forward to take the food in. You can't help but laugh loudly as he says "aaaah" sarcastically.

"I just wanted you to open your mouth, fool. Not to say aaaaa..."

You laugh louder.

"Tch, shut it."

"I have a mouth for speaking so I definitely won't stop using it."

You speak and Levi's hands holds your hips in place as he looks at you.

"How about I shut up that mouth of yours?"

Levi says before he crashes his lips against yours in a heated kiss. You smile against his lips and hug his neck and kiss him back passionately. You part your lips as soon as he licks them. His tongue slips inside of your mouth and he deepens the kiss, taking in everything about you. He has been craving this for so long.

His arousal grows and he groans slightly at the feeling of your core pressed against his hard, clothed length. He runs his tongue over every inch of your mouth before he finally breaks the kiss, needing a break for air.

"That should shut you up…"

You breathe heavily as you smile.

"Your mouth is a mess, Levi! With my lipstick... And you're hard."

You say chuckling softly as you take a paper napkin to clean his face.

"Your fault. Not mine. You're the one who straddled my lap and put your lipstick everywhere"

Levi mutters as he looks at you, staring at the way your chest rises with every breath you take.

"Pervert!"

You say shyly, smacking the napkin on his face as you catch him staring at your chest.

"You're the one who's sitting on my hardening member and you're calling me the pervert?"

Levi's breath is hot against your skin as he leans in and places a few hungry, open-mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulders. You chuckle and moan, grab his hair and pull his head backwards to make him look into your eyes.

"I didn't know you were hard when I got in your lap."

You say staring into his eyes as you take the bowl of spaghetti again and get off his lap.

"It's called the hormones of an aroused male. You're wearing red lipstick and a red dress. It's almost like you are begging me to devour you. So don't fucking blame me for getting hard you stupid ass!"

Levi speaks in a frustrated and pissed tone as you just laugh loudly.

Later, after finishing eating and talking about nothing important, you two sit on the blanket. You sit between his legs and lean your back on his chest as you yawn tiredly.

"Levi... I'm really tired. I might fall asleep here, yk..."

You say sighing as you sip your wine.

"We can stay here for a little while longer. Not too long though or else the idiots are going to snoop around"

Levi mutters as he sighs.

"Why do I feel like the brat's are already watching us while blushing and giggling?"

Levi sighs. He can almost hear the little brat's giggles. He has a few ideas of what he would do to them later but now he couldn’t focus on that. Not when the girl of his dreams is pressed up against him and holding his hands.

"Shut it. Stop reminding me that they're probably watching us"

Levi mutters, slightly glaring off to the side before wrapping his arms around her.

"Thank you, Levi. I really enjoyed tonight."

You mumble as you slowly start to doze off in his arms.

"Me too…"

Levi says softly as he stares down at you. He is slightly jealous of your ability to fall asleep so fast. He runs his fingers through your hair and gently plays with the strands.

"Rest up, Doll."

#levi ackerman #levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi x reader kiss #levi x fem!reader #levi ackerman x you #levi aot #levi fluff #levi fanfiction #levi oneshot #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #snk #aot

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skyfallscotland · 3 months ago

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Things I loved about Onyx Storm, in no particular order 🖤⚡️

This is an addendum to my overall review post—there’s also one about the things that I didn’t like here.

I do love ride or die riorgail, even if their characters didn't feel quite right to me (dare I say fanon-esque?). In any case, threatening people for the one they love? 10/10, would eat it up every time.

The dragons being every rider's first love? It won't be a surprise to you if you've read BRV but I adore this take so much.

She was the first to choose me, to elevate me above all others, the first to see every ugly side of me and accept it all, and every single person in this fucking canyon will die before they remove a single one of her scales.

Ok then!

And Violet?

“You see, that’s my little one.”

I'm crying!!

Tairn and Andarna? Like that's her father!!!

“Do not go any deeper than your claws!” Tairn lectures, his tail nearly taking out a tree when he pivots to watch her go. “I swear, if you get in over your head, I’ll let you drown.”

Their every interaction made me:

Except for this one, which had me tearing up!

Tairn cranes his neck forward and growls. “You will not raise your voice to her.” Andarna turns her head and narrows her eyes at Tairn. “Do not ruin this for me.” Hurt stabs through the bond and Tairn recoils, his head drawing back to cover Ridoc and me.

Then there's Sgaeyl—mother!!!

“You are an inconvenience for which there is no adequate measurement.”

She wasn't talking to Xaden all book (v upsetti spaghetti) but she still would defend him with her life because she's mum!!

“Tell her the truth. He loathes her,” Tairn suggests. “As does Sgaeyl. The life-giver is lucky she wasn’t scorched this morning, though I do believe Sgaeyl is still contemplating her options.”

Speaking of mothers, I both hated and loved the Hedotis chapters. I really enjoyed them, I thought they were fun, Violet channeled the twin she doesn't know she has (lol iykyk) which was in my opinion out of character for her (threatening someone's kids???) but despite the lack of character growth to get there, I still really enjoyed this sequence for all its emotional aspects.

“How does she”—he points to the door—“ deserve my ten minutes when she fed me chocolate cake on my tenth birthday and vanished later that night? I am the fulfillment of a contract for her. Nothing more. I don’t give a shit how she looks at me, or whatever bullshit she undoubtedly spewed at you. The only reason we’re in her house is because she’s married to one of the triumvirate, and I have no problem using that to get what we need.”

I don't know how chocolate cake is still his favourite food because that would ruin me. (It just did).

Violet's protectiveness in this sequence was everything though! 😭 Fuck you, Talia!

“What I need is for Xaden to be all right. If that means setting this house on fire and leaving without accomplishing anything else on this isle, then I’ll hand him a torch.”

Onto other characters, Ridoc is still hilarious and honestly his humour and one-liners saved my reading experience from being downright terrible, same with Cam—sorry CamLAEN! (lol)

Once again, I really thought she might kill Ridoc for a second there (this is very much a flipped Iron Flame re-write in some aspects lmao) but thankfully for everyone involved, she didn't.

"Violet was out of control. She kicked a queen’s ass and poisoned Xaden’s mom and all three Hedotic heads of state, but secured us an army.”

“Oh, and just so we’re clear, that strike up there wasn’t”—he gestures between us—“ you know. Us.” He flinches. “I mean, it was us because I pissed her off, but it wasn’t us… us, if you know what I’m saying.”

Confirmation everyone knows about the lightning storms.

The representation—as someone living through Australian summer, I really appreciated that POTS was represented more thoroughly in the hot climate of the Isles, though it was still never actually touched on (I think there could have been a line in there explaining why it was relevant/what was happening in her body and that she wasn't just tired) but still, happy to see it there and (don't take this the wrong way but) maybe to see Violet struggle more, just a little.

Then there's Dain.

Dain! My boy, my baby. He was 110% done with everyone and I'm so here for it. He was going through it!

“Was that a compliment? What the fuck is going on?” Dain asks, his gaze flying to mine. “Did you give him something?”

Dain puts both hands up, palms outward at his chest. “How in all that’s holy am I to blame for this?”

“Love wasting my time,” Dain mutters, then shoves the small booklet I recognize as the language compendium for Unnbriel into the chest pocket of his flight jacket.

Aaric sighs from beside Xaden, then proceeds to speak like he was freaking born here. Dain looks ready to murder him.

I also got my wish for him and Sloane, which was unexpected but appreciated! (I created tags for not one but TWO of the ships in this book and I am so stoked about it!). It also makes Rebecca's TS song choice of The Prophecy for him make a lot more sense.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Xaden calls up at Dain as he dismounts, but my focus firmly locks over Brennan’s shoulder. “Following her ass,” Dain replies.

“I don’t coddle first-years anymore, so train. Your. Signet.” “Asshole,” she whispers, and the flush in her cheeks deepens.

I love them, your honour. I would read whole books about them.

Speaking of—

“What the fuck are we going to do with that thing for the rest of the trip?” “Her name is Broccoli, not that,” he mutters.

These two (three?) are iconic and I want more of them. I want Mira recovering from her injuries and Drake coming to check on her and dumping a kitten on her chest, and Mira pretending she doesn't like Broccoli but secretly finding her comforting and letting her stay (and him, too, because it's love).

Professor Riorson. God this was ridiculous and I hated it, but it made me laugh.

The normally sweet drink tastes bitter in my throat.

Absolutely fan service but I'm positive it made us all groan aloud at the same time, which was amusing.

“Agreed,” Ridoc says. “And it’s always the same fight.” He lifts his hand to his chest. “I’ll trust you if you stop keeping secrets!” He drops the hand and scowls. “It’s my secretive nature that attracted you, and why can’t you just stay out of harm’s way for five fucking minutes?”

“You could hyphenate,” Garrick suggests. “Or combine? Riorgail? Sorrenson?”

Also, fan service, which, did I like it? No, but I laughed at (because otherwise I'd cry so).

And then there were lines like this, that made me absolutely tear up and hit me in the feels:

But something is broken between here”—he taps the side of his head—“ and here”—he repeats the motion above his heart. “And I can’t control it.

He cups the back of my neck and pulls me within inches of his face—close enough to kiss. “I could reach the rank of Maven, lead armies of dark wielders against everyone we care for, and watch every vein in my body turn red as I channel all the power in the Continent, and I would still love you. What I did doesn’t change that. I’m not sure anything can.”

So yeah, even if my overall experience was messy and chaotic, and perhaps not the best it could be, I did still love parts of it and find some of it enjoyable. I'm trying to change my mindset for a re-read, but I think it's best if I have some space before I try again.

In the meantime, what was your favourite thing? 🖤

#onyx storm spoilers

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chixkencxrry · 2 years ago

Text

What of Loss do Children Know

Summary: This a small drabble about Miguel's girlfriend being worried after seeing him injured. (Miguel x Fem!Reader) (CW: NOT PROOFED, mentions of sex, angst, mentions of death.)

***

It was a slow, easy morning until you saw it. You had been excited at the sight of your vigilante boyfriend in your bed.

The yellow sunlight falling on the perfect outlines of Miguel’s face. You furrowed your brow as you watched him; there was a gash on his cheek that wasn’t there yesterday afternoon when he left. Sure, it was already healing but it looked painful. You’d finished off your night shift, and peeled your uniform off. Heading for a shower when you saw him — Miguel looked exhausted. Had it not been for the rise and fall of his chest, you might have thought he was dead. Turning away, you showered and dressed, you couldn’t stop yourself from joining him on the bed.

He moved in an instant. Heavy eyes pulling open to look at you. You tried to keep your face neutral. Tried not to cry at the aches settling into his bones, the creak of pain as he turned to you.

“You look like shit.” You said without preamble, fingers on his jaw as you looked at him carefully. “What happened?”

Miguel sighed. “Fight went bad. The usual.”

“This isn’t fucking usual, Miguel.” Tear choked your words. You hand fell to his collarbone, sliding doing to his chest. Rise. Fall. Rise. “I’m so scared. So scared every time you come back to me like this.”

“Hey, hey.” He sat up, holding your shoulders as you wept. “I’m right here. It’s just a side effect of the job.”

You sneered, shaking his hold and turning your back to him. “The job? Why does it have to be your job? Why do you have to almost kill yourself every night to save the world?”

“Babe, you aren’t making this easy.”

“Easy? What’s easy about seeing the man you love be battered?”

“I have to do this. I’m sorry but I can’t let things go wrong when I have the power to stop them.”

You knew he was right but didn’t want him to be the one. What if one night he didn’t come back to you? Standing, you grabbed your pillow and went to the living room. Miguel called after you but you slammed the bedroom door shut with your hip. Tears burning your eyes, you threw your pillow onto the couch and laid down head first, the cushion muffling your tears.

Miguel saved lives. But who would be there to save him if something went wrong? God, you didn’t want to lose him.

Moments pass, and soon you felt the heavy press of Miguel against your back, pushing you into the couch. You turned your head, eyes on the plain grey of the chair. Your fingers wiped your eyes and you sniffled. “Do you know what would happen if I lost you? I would lose my mind, Miguel.”

His nose brushed along your back. Lips feathering kisses on your bare skin until it meant the spaghetti strap of your tank top. “You’re not going to lose me. I promise.”

“You can’t promise that. You can’t.”

He relented; “You’re right. I can’t. But I can try.”

Miguel’s fingers threaded with yours. His breathe, warm and sweet kissed your skin. Your heartbeat slowed. You felt pressure leaving your neck, relaxing your muscles as he pressed himself to you.

“I’m sorry for freaking out.” You whispered.

“No. You’re right…I…couldn’t lose you either if the roles were reversed.”

You hummed, wiggling beneath him. “Baby, you’re kind of heavy.”

Miguel laughed, then friend his hips into your ass, morning wood making a steely appearance. “Brat.”

“Mhmm. You better do something about it then.” You teased, rubbing your ass along his length. Miguel circled his arms around you and turned your body to face him. The pain of the earlier morning disappeared as the two of you fell into each other, lovers braided and dancing as the yellow light filled the room. Gripping each other as tightly as possible, solid and whole in each other's arms. Each refusing to let go of the other.

It was slow, randy and filled with whispers of promises that could not be fulfilled. Don't let me go, you both seemed to scream into the other. Nails clawing, teeth dragging -- don't let me go. You made liars out of the other in your love.

Like all things made by humans, love would crumble. Whether by nature or force. No promise was stronger than that.

masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman #black!reader #fanfic #miguel o’hara fanfiction #Miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 smut #spider man x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x y/n #Miguel o'hara imagine

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theirloveisgross · 1 year ago

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Hi Jules,

I have a question for you. Which is the tiniest tank top Louis wore? Austin show or O2 show London? Although I suspect you will say Austin🤭 anyways both the tanks were so fit it hugged him so tight!

Definitely the Austin one but don't mind me if I make my case again.

They both did fit him very snuggly. I'll provide some visual aid (I love an excuse to look at photos of Louis (even if I don't need one)).

Here's the London tank top.

A fit racerback tank top that made his back and shoulder muscles look so fucking good. The sleeve cut was wide and low so we got to appreciate his beautiful armpits a whole lot that day (x x).

Here's the Austin tank top.

A light tank top that showed off his arms and collarbones. The material was very thin causing his sweat to soak through quickly. The neck cut of this tank top was so low, his tattoo was completely visible, save from the little bits (literally only one letter on each side) covered by the very tiny straps (x x).

Let's see how they fared on the barricade.

Now, according to the number of nipples and chest tattoos we can see after some hands pull on each top (I know a hand is blocking the first photo but there's only one nipple, okay), we can conclude that the Austin tank top was the tiniest and flimsiest tank top of them all (x x).

The Austin top was so flimsy in fact, that it ripped in half (x x). :c

And so... The Austin tank top was SO. TINY. THE TINIEST.

Thank you for your attention. Wear a spaghetti strap tank top next, Louis. Or a crop top. :)

#Rip the vest #Tiniest tank top ever #Never getting over it. If you can't tell by now #Thanks for the ask swathi #I read it in the early hours of the morning but I wanted to do a fun post 💚#Tiniest #So tiny

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movetonet · 5 months ago

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dialogue prompt: "there's something I need to tell you"

this one is sidgeno infidelity nonsense, inspired by the mini convo sparked in the discord 😈 it’s around 1k words (lol), nsfw, and is set sometime during the 07-08 season. let’s goooooooooo

Sid’s bedroom was silent save for their uneven breathing. Geno was still boneless beside him, seemingly dead to the world in the way he always was after a particularly good orgasm. Sid would laugh at him for it, except his body felt like cooked spaghetti at the moment. He had barely managed to rearrange them so they could cuddle before he felt himself sinking into the mattress, blissfully exhausted.

Geno went off in soft Russian beside him. Sid closed his eyes and sighed, letting the sounds of it wash over him while he played with Geno’s hair. It was curling up in the way it usually did when it was damp with sweat; Sid loved it a lot. “I don’t know what you’re saying,” he whispered, and he buried his nose into Geno’s hair, smelling salt and musk—the remnants of what they’ve done.

Geno huffed out a frustrated breath and said, “English so stupid.”

Sid laughed. “It is pretty dumb,” he agreed. English was very stupid, his years in high school had taught him, but they didn’t need it to understand each other. They didn’t need words at all. Whether it was on the ice or in the bedroom, they understood each other perfectly.

Geno shook his head and sighed. “I say…I tell you something important.” His arm was wrapped around the back of Sid’s neck, rubbing circles into Sid’s shoulder with his thumb. Sid felt Geno grow all tense under him before he said, “Tania come to game tomorrow.”

Sid stilled. He suddenly couldn’t breathe and his chest grew tight. “Oh,” he tried to say, but it came out as a choked strangled noise instead.

Geno squeezed his shoulder. “Sorry Sid,” he said.

“No. Stop. Don’t apologize. I just—“ Sid had no clue what word was going to come out of his mouth next, so he bit down on his bottom lip and let the thought die. Sid knew of Tania. Geno liked to show pictures of her when he first came to Pittsburgh. It was one of the few things he had in common with most of the guys back then, before he got a firmer grasp on the English language—he had a girlfriend, just like everyone else. Not like Sid though. Sid didn’t have anyone, until Ottawa trounced them in the playoffs last season and Geno shoved Sid to his knees at his place before he went back to Russia for the summer. Now, Sid didn’t have anyone but Geno.

“She say she want to meet,” Geno continued, his voice low and strangled. “She say, she meet guy who take captain from me.”

“I’d love to meet her,” Sid lied, growing cold all over. Tania had come over from Russia for a few games before, but Sid had done his best to avoid meeting her. He didn’t like thinking about Tania. As long as he didn’t have to acknowledge her existence, Sid could pretend this thing he was doing with Geno was perfectly fine. As long as Tania stayed in Russia, existing as a photo in the locker room or an occasional voice over the phone he heard while Geno rushed to get her off the call, Sid could pretend Geno was his.

“Maybe before game,” Geno said. “You meet, we do dinner. Play game and I send her away. Then we together after.”

Sid laughed humorlessly. “Send her away to where?” he asked.

“Maybe I tell her meet Talbo,” Geno said, dead serious. “Talbo take her around city. Maybe she cheat on me too.”

Sid turned over so he could look Geno in the eye and scowl. Geno was smiling, his tongue poking out through his lips. “That wasn’t funny,” Sid said.

“I’m not mind,” Geno said. “I deserve.”

“Well…she deserves it too,” Sid snapped. “That’s what she gets for not wanting to come to Pittsburgh with you.”

Geno stared at Sid, the jokey smile fading from his face. For a moment, Sid panicked. He fucking ruined it. The whole sneaking around thing was hot, even if they hadn’t had to do much sneaking because Tania was a whole world away most of the time. The closest they got was when Tania called while Geno was tonguing Sid’s asshole, leaving him a shaking and quivering mess while Tania called and called. He came so fucking hard thinking about why Geno was missing her call, that making Sid come like this was more important than talking to the alleged love of his life. But that’s all it was supposed to be—morally dubious and extremely hot fun. Sid wasn’t supposed to want anything else.

Geno gave Sid a small smile, and he leaned in to kiss him. It was slow and sweet, and Sid clutched Geno’s shoulder to pull him closer and keep him there.

“Sorry,” Sid said when Geno pulled away.

“No sorry,” Geno said. He ran a big hand through Sid’s hair, messing the long curls up even more than they already were. “Is good. You here Sid. This all I need.”

Sid felt his heart grow three sizes larger. “Well, that’s that then,” Sid said, trying to sound casual about it and probably failing.

Geno laughed. Sid felt like he should probably do something about his stupid Canadian awkwardness, but Geno always found it amusing. “Yes,” Geno agreed. “We fuck again? To confirm?”

Sid rolled his eyes and sighed like he was so put upon. “No way you can go again,” Sid said and he pulled Geno on top of him and kissed him. Geno totally could go again. He was a fucking machine, and Sid had been worried he couldn’t keep up when they first started this.

But Sid felt his dick fatten up as Geno slid his tongue into his mouth, too soon and too wet and too fucking hot. Sid moaned and dug his nails into Geno’s strong back. Tomorrow would come, and Sid would crave—something. Something he wanted but couldn’t have.

But tonight, he had it. Everything he wanted was on top of him, smiling as he sucked a hickey into the crook of his neck, murmuring sweet Russian into his skin once more.

#*writing #sidgeno #answered #thanks again katie!! hope you enjoy!!!#i need to do some more practice to get geno’s voice from around this time right so…sorry if it feels off!!

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joonslfttiddie · 1 year ago

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Home

Chapter 45: Piece of Happiness...

💜Fic Pairing: OT7 x OFC

💜AU/Genre: Reverse Harem/Polyfidelity/Ghosts/AMBW

💜Warnings: Smut/Adult Language/Adult Content

💜Rating: MA

💜Word Count: 4,175

A/N:

Compersion (noun): A feeling of joy when a loved one invests in and takes pleasure from another romantic or sexual relationship. The opposite of jealousy and typically is used in reference to nontraditional or polyamorous relationships.

Yoongi's POV

"No, I'm okay for now. Y'all go ahead. I'm almost done," I tell Tia when she asks if I'd like to come down while she prepares dinner. Don't get me wrong, I am definitely starving but I really want to get this bed done so that she and the guys can rest comfortably tonight. My guys bring up the last few boards, and I send them home for the evening after thanking them for their hard work. Once I'm done nailing the last slat board down, I start to assemble the drawers that will serve as storage in the footboard. When they are complete, I install them on the drawer slides, opening and closing them several times to make sure they have smooth movement. This sprawling bed is equivalent to two king size beds put together, taking up the entirety of one wall, only leaving room for the night stands to fit snuggly between it and the adjacent walls. Thankfully, there is more room in the bedroom, almost like a whole other bedroom is attached. This place is incredible, from the high ceilings, to the gold sconces, beautiful color palette, to the awe-inspiring floor plan.

The way that I've built this bed allows for a platform feel with no need for a box spring to support their current mattress and the new one that was delivered yesterday, being able to rest on the slats. I am a man that knows my limitations and realize that there is no way that I'll be able to get this mattress on the frame or bring the one from the garage up alone. When I'm finished cleaning up my mess and gathering my tools, I head downstairs to ask the guys for help. My foot hits the bottom stair when I overhear their cheerful conversations and joyful laughter. It's a sound that I wish could be bottled up and saved for later, I imagine that this is what heaven sounds like. I drop my things onto the floor after rounding the staircase and head into the kitchen. As if waiting for me to join them, they all greet me with such excitement and so much love.

"Yoongi, come join us," Jimin offers, reaching for my hand while Jungkook reaches for the other.

"Are you finally done? We've been waiting so long," Taehyung adds.

"Yeah, I just finished up and was actually coming down to ask for a hand or two putting the mattresses on."

"That can wait. Come. Sit," Namjoon says.

"You really should eat something. You haven't eaten all day," Tia mentions, putting me on blast.

"WHAT?!" The guys all speak in unison, clearly upset that I've not had a meal.

"No, I did. I had a few tangerines, some water, and-," I say nervously rubbing the back of my neck. I don't even get to finish my sentence before multiple hands are pulling me to sit at the table.

"Why haven't you had a proper meal," Hoseok asks with a frown. "You have to make sure you don't miss meals so that you won't get sick. Here," he says as he places a plate of spaghetti in front of me, grabs my hand, and slides a utensil into it. Even though I love this bunch, it is still awkward to have everyone's focus on me, worrying over me. Before it gets too uncomfortable, everyone goes back to what they were doing as if on cue. Some are bringing food to the table while others are bringing more dinnerware and utensils, napkins, and taking drink orders. They are all busy doing this or that, except for Hoseok, who hasn't left my side since I sat down.

Once everyone's task is done, they come to join us, sitting comfortably around the table. The sound of dishes clinking, more conversations, and laughter fill the space. This is not something I'm used to being that I live alone. Even my dog, Holly, is with my parents as I've been too busy to properly care for him, too swamped with jobs.

"Wow, everything looks delicious and this spaghetti is the best I've had," I compliment before digging in for another bite.

"I'm glad you like it! It's a simple meal but is still one of my favorites," Tia tells me.

"It really is so good. Here, try this too," Namjoon says, placing pieces of steak on my plate.

"Me, too," Taehyung says, wanting Namjoon to share with him as well and he does as Taehyung reaches over to put a piece of fried chicken on my plate next to the steak tips. "Here. You don't have any chicken."

"Sorry about all the random sides. I know they don't really match but we wanted to make sure there was enough for everyone," Tia says. "Speaking of which, who wants to do the grocery run tomorrow?"

Jungkook and Taehyung volunteer, then Jungkook asks, "You coming, Yoongi?"

Even though I understand what this relationship is and its logistics, I'm still caught off guard by the question.

"Huh?" I ask for clarification while almost choking on my drink.

"My bad, I just thought..." he trails off, looking around at the others seemingly afraid that he's made a mistake.

"We didn't get a chance to talk about the next step," Tia tells everyone. "So, we talked about our relationship, things that the rest of us have experienced, and the things that have led up to this point. I didn't get a chance, however, to get your opinion on living arrangements. Of course, we all want you to stay with us, but what is going to make you the most comfortable is what matters."

She is sitting directly in front of me, peering at me while everyone else goes back to their meals. It's like they know how to treat me, understanding that I get uncomfortable under pressure, without me having to say a word. When she offers to speak with me privately, I find my courage and decide to talk as a collective.

"Is that truly something you all want? I really don't want to intrude or be in the way."

"You wouldn't be," Namjoon says, and goes into further details regarding accommodations. "We all have a separate bedroom outside of Tia's, though we don't sleep there, preferring to cozy up together in Tia's bed."

"Our bed," Tia corrects him with a sly grin.

"My bad. Yes, our bed," he says, giving her hand a squeeze. "Our clothes and other belongings are in those bedrooms, though."

"There are, also, bathrooms upstairs that we've used if the main one is occupied. There is another in the basement as well as a couple more bedrooms," Jimin explains.

"So, the bed was built so that we could all fit but there is plenty of space around here and things for you to do if you ever need some alone time," says Jungkook.

"We are in no way trying to talk you into doing something you're not comfortable with, but I think I can speak for everyone when I say we would be thrilled to have you here," Taehyung says, placing his hand on my shoulder.

"Have you decided what you want to do, Hobi?" Jimin asks Hoseok, taking some of the heat off of me.

"I have. Actually, I mentioned to Tia earlier that I would love to stay if you all would have me," he answers. "I would just need to tie up the loose ends back home which will be easy since the lease on my apartment will be up this month. I can probably get that done tomorrow."

"Nice!" Namjoon begins, followed by similar sentiments from the others.

"What are you thinking?" Hoseok asks me.

"I don't know. It's all happening so fast. I told Tia earlier, it all seems too good to be true. Do you guys never get jealous of each other? Is everyone dating each other? I have so many questions right now."

They speak more in detail and patiently answer any of my additional questions. I do, really, want to stay but I also value my time alone, being more introverted than the others. The lease on my apartment ends this month as well, so the timing would be perfect. It's just so much happening at once. Tia is so patient with me and shares more of the knowledge she has acquired regarding polyamorous relationships.

"Polyamory, of course, is being in a relationship with multiple, consenting individuals at one time. Being that there are seven of us now, we are considered a polycule. You guys are not required to do anything you don't want to, including dating or being physical with each other. The guys are used to and understand the pull that brings more love into the house. Correct me if I'm wrong guys, but they seem to experience compersion seeing me meet new people."

"Absolutely! She is so damn cute when I watch her with the other guys or meeting new people. Her joy brings me so much joy," Taehyung confirms and the others agree with various hums and nods.

"So, Tia is like an anchor, being our 'home' of sorts. She is the reason we are all here and is our primary priority," Jimin adds. "There are rules that we choose to abide by," he says while pointing to the other men, "and that is that the relationship is closed. We have no desire to find love or other romantic relationships outside of this polycule. Did I use that word right?"

When Tia nods, his eyes disappear when he smiles with pride. Taehyung winks at him as if congratulating his feat. They are so fucking adorable.

"So, these guys have decided to be my nesting partners," Tia says with air quotes, "who will live here with me. We will share our lives fully, from living arrangements to finances."

"No pressure. I get it if you need to think about it a bit more," Jungkook comforts me. "And solo poly is an option, right, Noona?"

"Of course. You can choose to live independently to come and go as you please."

The way that my true feelings burst out of my mouth is borderline scary, both because it seemed to pop involuntary and because I'm saying it aloud, "I want to!" Fuck, that was loud. I pause for a moment to compose myself. They have not given me any reason to keep this hypothetical wall up and I must admit, I've never felt this secure in a romantic relationship before. "I want to stay, too."

"Yay!" Tia practically jumps from her chair and skips around the table to me. Standing behind my chair, she drapes herself over my shoulders to take my face into her hands, freckling one side of my face with kisses before she kisses my lips. I hear Jungkook and Namjoon whoop loudly while Jimin and Taehyung clap their hands with excitement. Hoseok gently places his hand on my thigh under the table before I take it into my own hand. They sure have the ability to make a man feel wanted, and I've never been more certain of a decision in my life. I guess I'm home, sweet home.

Hoseok's POV

Meeting Yoongi was like looking into Tia's eyes for the first time; comfortable, loving, and magnetic. The grip on my heart is like a vice and the lust I have for them burns, scorching my body from within. I'm not saying that I love him more than the other guys, but it is definitely different. I could have orgasmed just from touching his hand earlier, the feelings so overwhelming and intense. I'm so glad that he's decided to stay with us. I was afraid for a moment that he was going to decline.

After dinner, I volunteer to do the dishes which are in a hot, soapy bath that Taehyung prepared. Even though Tia mentioned that he did the dishes this morning, he still offers to stay and help me while the others do their own thing.

"You really don't have to help me. Tia said that you've done the dishes today already. I just want to help out, you know? Earn my keep around here," I say jokingly but also meaning it wholeheartedly.

"No worries. I want to. Doing the dishes is therapeutic for me, plus, I get to spend some one-on-one time with you. I can't turn that down."

Not me blushing, now knowing that Taehyung has been wanting to spend time with me.

"Yes, it does seem like we haven't really been alone. I'm sure it's because I just joined you all and was in the introduction stage. Do you usually get to spend time with the other guys?"

"Yes, we all get to spend quality time together. Me and JK play video games and I watch movies in the theater with Jimin. Earlier, I was able to chill with Namjoon in the library," Taehyung shares.

Curiosity eats at me and I can't help but question him, "Do you guys ever-?"

"Ever what? Are you asking if we have sex?"

"W-well," his directness along with his deep voice and piercing stare makes me feel bashful under his gaze. "Yes. Do you guys have sex? Are you attracted to the other men?"

"No, we've not had sex but we are intimate when we're with Tia. I am, absolutely, attracted to the others and you. You are all so beautiful, how could I not be? There is no rule saying that we can't be together if we want, it just hasn't happened yet."

We finish up our chore while speaking about this and that. The conversation is comfortable like talking to an old friend. I rinse the last of the dishes that he then places into the dishwasher. We wipe down the countertops and stove, then sweep the floor as this is what 'cleaning the kitchen' consists of, Taehyung mentions Tia's statement from a previous conversation.

"She's super chill and doesn't ask for much, but I notice that her mood can change a bit if things aren't clean. I think clutter makes her feel overwhelmed and frazzled. That's another reason I don't mind cleaning; I want to do my part to keep her happy. She's been through so much and deserves to live a soft life."

I'm falling in love with the look in his eyes as he's mentioning Tia and I want him to be just as happy as she is. I consciously vow to make sure that I also do my part to keep that expression on all of their faces.

Jimin's POV

I am the type of person that observes, clocks things, but keeps it all to myself until others are ready to express themselves. So when I see Hoseok reach over to rest Yoongi's thigh, I look at Tia. She saw it too, judging by the knowing smirk on her face and that twinkle of mischief in her eye. I wonder what is going on between them and when she looks over at me, I raise a questioning brow to which she smiles fully.

When we finish our meals and clear the table of its dishes, Hoseok and Taehyung stay behind to clean the kitchen, Jungkook goes upstairs to shower, and Namjoon takes Yoongi on a tour of his new home. I am so excited that there will be more people to share my love with, but right now, I need to talk to Tia.

"Come here," I whisper to her and lead her down the stairs into the basement.

"What? Boy, what are you doing?"

"Well, there are a couple of things I'm curious about," I confess once we make it to the bottom of the stairs, while rubbing the back of my neck, suddenly nervous to bring this up. I really don't want to make things weird or disrupt the peace we have in this house. At the same time, she is the love of my life and I've decided to dedicate my life to her and the fellas. I should be able to be my true self and be honest with them all. "Fuck, I'm gonna grab a drink. Would you like something?"

"Honestly, I've been craving some red wine," she mentions while making her way to the theater area, taking a seat on one of the comfy chairs. "I don't know if I've developed an aversion to it after being poisoned, but I'm afraid to drink it. Does that make sense?"

"That makes perfect sense," I say while making my way to the bar area. "I'll pour you a glass from one of the bottles I brought from my house if you want."

"Yes, let's try that. If it's coming from you, I know I'll be fine."

"I figured you'd be reluctant to drink anything from the cellar. I hope you don't mind, but I threw all of the wine bottles and liquor bottles that looked tampered with away. Also any bottles that looked like they could be easily contaminated. I did bring all of the bottles I've been saving from home and I plan on replacing the ones I tossed."

"I don't mind at all. I'm touched to know that you thought about me and wanted to make sure I felt safe. You are so stinking sweet and I love you so much."

I round the corner with two glasses and the bottle of wine, nearly prancing from the affection she's expressed for me.

"Awww, babe. I love you, too!" It's not the first time I've heard it, but it makes me giddy just the same. I lean over to kiss her glossy lips before I take my seat next to her and open the bottle. "Here you go," I say and hand her the stemless glass. My heart warms when I watch her take a sniff of the liquid and close her eyes before bringing it to her plump lips. Watching her savor the drink as it washes over her tongue is damn near orgasmic and I'm trying not to drool at the sight.

"Oh my God, Jimin. This is so good and it's been so long, I could cry," she says jokingly but there is some truth behind her eyes.

"I'm glad you like it. I know how you love a good red wine so I can imagine it being tough being afraid to drink it. I'm glad I could bring you a little piece of happiness."

"A little piece? Just you being here fills my heart with so much joy," she says and leans over for another kiss.

Fuck! I want her so bad right now. Her lips, her skin is so fucking soft! Oh shit, I hope she doesn't notice.

I swear that she could just breathe in my direction and my dick would stand to salute her. I really hope she doesn't realize there's a bulge in my pants from just a little kiss. I've gotta stay focused as there are things I want to talk to her about. Taking a swig from my own glass, I think of the best way to approach the topic.

"I wanted to talk to you about last night. When we were watching that shit movie Jungkook picked, I noticed that you were a bit out of it. Your expression looked troubled, pissed even, and for some reason I feel like you're hiding something from us, like there is something you're purposely keeping from us."

"I can't sit here and say that's not true, Jiminie. There are things that I've seen in visions that I'm trying to prevent from happening. Please trust me on this and know that I will tell you all eventually, just not right now. I promise."

"I trust you baby, with all my heart. I just don't want you to struggle or suffer alone. That's what we're here for; to love you, care for you, and lessen your stress the best we can. If that means something as small as me sitting here so that you can vent, I'll do that."

"Jimin, baby, I really do appreciate you being concerned but just know that everything will be okay. I've seen things, heartbreaking things, and the only way I can stop those things from happening is to remain silent about this; at least for now. I hope you understand, in no way am I trying to be secretive," she rambles, trying to explain herself.

"Babe. Babe...shhh. I get it. You don't have to explain yourself. If this is the process you have to take, then do that. I am not questioning your honesty, I'm just worried about you," I say, placing my glass next to my feet before turning my whole body to face her, cupping my hand around hers which are still wrapped around her glass. "You don't have to share anything that you're not comfortable with, whether it pertains to your visions, your knowledge, or anything else. And with that being said," I pause a moment, looking down at our hands. "You saw it, too, earlier."

"Why, whatever do you mean?"

I look back into her eyes, amused at her trying to skate around my statement.

"You know exactly what I mean. So, is that a thing or...?"

"Hey, it's not my business to tell but I will say that I've seen that they both will be very happy here with us."

"So, you knew Yoongi would decide to stay?"

She just smiles, remaining tight-lipped, before saying, "I would hate to spoil the ending for you", then winks before kissing me one last time. I don't consider myself nosy or a gossip, so the information, or lack thereof, that she's provided will have to do. As long as they are happy, I'm fine with anything and honestly I'm just taken aback being that we've not experienced another couple within our relationship. If I'm being truly honest with myself, I've had similar thoughts. I know I could have just talked to her about it but all of this still feels weird to me. I wonder if she's seen things about me. About my desires.

Tia's POV

Yes. I saw it, but way before Jimin did. When I looked into Yoongi's eyes, I saw that he will experience a beautiful love with Hoseok. While the love we share is strong and the love they have for the others is undeniable, their love will be something special. I am over the moon and so excited to be able to experience it with them. I think by answering Jimin the way I did, it will provide privacy for Hoseok and Yoongi while also answering the questions that rest unasked beneath his eyes. I have not seen what lies ahead for him, but I can feel his hunger as well as his uncertainty. I want to maintain the trust amongst us all, allowing us to feel secure and safe to be our authentic selves. And I will do the same for Mr. Sassy Pants if he decides to date within our relationship.

Jimin has my heart and I don't think he realizes how big of a gesture and how much he touched my heart by cleaning out the wine cellar. While it may have been a small act in his mind, for me it means so much more. As a mental health professional, I can definitely see signs of PTSD within myself from my experience with those brothers, but knowing that my men care so much for me and are attentive enough to recognize and want to combat the symptoms melts me.

I've not spoken to the guys about my past before meeting them, only focusing on our present and future, but I've not had a partner to care for me or treat me so tenderly before. And if I'm being sincere, it is taking some getting used to.

I can understand what Yoongi meant when he said that this all seems too good to be true. If I hadn't seen glimpses of our future, I would be skeptical, too, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I guess my ancestors know me better than I know myself and knew that I would need to see at least a peek of the intimacy and love we will experience for each other. Even when I have my moments of doubt or possible self-sabotaging actions, a comfort comes over me that allows me to lean into the love the guys are providing instead of pushing them away out of fear of getting hurt. Every time they kiss me,all of my doubts and worries disappear, being replaced with excitement and anticipation for our many days to come.

A/N:

Thank you so much to @downbad4yoongi for beta reading this chapter!

#joonslfttiddie #bangtanwhq #ambw #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #reincarnated lovers #reverse harem #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #black protagonist

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cataclysmiceuphemism · 3 months ago

Note

For the kinks list, would LOVE to see 1. with Dolenzmith🥰

a list of 69 kinks– send a prompt and a ship...#1 First Time

Micky had been thinking about having sex with Mike for what felt like forever, in some form or another. He'd thought about it when they were friends and roommates and bandmates and nothing else, not with interest but with passing curiosity. Wondering after it like he wondered after any part of Mike's life he wasn't allowed in, like the way Mike's accent got stronger if he was in Texas a while, or inside jokes that Mike had with friends he'd had before they'd known each other. For a long while, whenever the thought passed through his mind, it really didn't mean much of anything at all, save for an awareness that Mike had a life outside of him—outside of all of The Monkees.

Then that part of Mike's life became something that was his and his alone to own, all because they'd had dinner together.

Peter and Davy had gone out on actual dates, on purpose. So he and Mike had stayed in. Mike had just about made them a proper kind of dinner. As proper as they ever had, anyway: spaghetti with a quarter-tube of freezer-burned ground beef and a can of diced tomatoes. You couldn't even see how gray the meat was, when everything was all mixed together. Feeling extra fancy, Mike had even poured them each a glass of wine— really, a glass of Welch's that had been in their fridge for who knew how long.

Mike had said, "Our finest vintage."

Micky had grinned, asked, "Oh, yeah? What year?"

Mike had said, "1965," as a joke that made them both snicker. But it might have been closer than they thought, and closer to wine than they thought, because when they brought it up to drink their eyes watered.

Then they were thrown into pitch.

"I thought we paid the electricity, this month," Micky had said, looking up to the blackened lights on reflex.

Mike shook his head. "No, we paid it last month. We paid the rent this month."

"Oh, yeah. Well— I'll go get the candles."

So they'd eaten their almost-romantic dinner in their almost-romantic lighting, laughing and having the same good time they always had. Maybe that was almost romantic, too. Micky had taken a seat on their countertop, a towel in his lap. Mike washed and he dried, mostly completely dutifully, except for the part where he snuck his fingers under the tap to give Mike a teasing splash.

Mike splashed him back, and Micky had yelped in fake indignation, "Hey! No fair! I was helping you out, y'know, you missed a spot."

Mike had chuckled. "On my face?"

"Yeah!" Micky hadn't thought at all, when he slipped down off the counter, said, "Hold on, let me get it for you," and pulled Mike in for a kiss.

It hadn't happened then.

In a way it would have been easier if it had; it could have, if things were a little different.

They'd looked at each other a moment, in the near-dark with just the dim, orange glow of their candles, and things had seemed even clearer than those months where all their lights stayed on. Then they'd went at each other wild, kissing without a break to it, even as they started stripping off their clothes, even as they went from the kitchen to the living room, even as Micky pushed Mike back over the arm of the sofa to try to get on the cushions, but they'd bounced, rolled onto the ground with Mike on top of him instead. They'd laid there half-naked on the ground, still kissing, hands still roaming, until Micky parted with a gasp and said, "Lemme just roll over, it'll be easier."

Mike had barely gotten up off him, only enough for Micky to roll onto his stomach, to scoot his pants down just below his ass and drop a hand down to jerk himself off against the rug. Mike had laid on top of him, kissed his neck and rutted against him, cock sliding against the crack of his ass.

Then Davy had come home in a perfectly sour mood. He stomped right in. Paused.

But he hadn't seen them.

He stomped on in to the kitchen, demanded, "How're we going to explain to Babbit we've got a fire and a flood, the same night?" slammed the faucet off, but thought better of blowing out the flame and instead grabbed the candleholder and used it to stomp his way on up the stairs.

It had been enough to make them think better of the whole thing, even if thinking better only meant they had a discussion and decided to do it all properly. A real relationship, with real dating.

Which was all well and good, except for the part where it gave Micky far more time to think on it. It wasn't an idle consideration anymore, and it wasn't an impulsive fuck on their living room floor. There was planning to it: It couldn't be when the guys were there. And it couldn't be when they might be back soon. It had to be an almost full-day of privacy.

Which meant that he'd thought of just about every pro and con, about how much it could hurt and the fact he'd never let a guy fuck him before, and how horrible it would be if Mike were to fuck him and it was awful. The last one was the only one he'd found easy to let go of; even if it hurt, it would be Mike and him, together, and so wouldn't be awful. But it still meant that when the time came, and they were together on the bed, naked to each other, that he was aware of it in a way he'd never been before with all his thinking of it.

He screwed his eyes shut and held his breath.

"Micky," Mike said.

Micky cracked open an eye. "Yeah, Mike?" He knew Mike hadn't pressed inside of him; he could feel the length of Mike's cock rubbing up against his thigh when Mike leaned to give him an appraising, head-tipped look, a look that made Micky open up both eyes to look at him fully. But there was some instinctive part of him that wanted to ask, because it would have meant it had been easy.

"You're making a face like the doc's about to give you a shot."

"It's not my fault—"

"Nobody's fault—"

"You're huge. Look at you, it's gonna be more than 'you might feel a little pinch'!"

Mike's face reddened. They stayed together quiet a moment, then he said, "It's all right, if you want to do something else."

"Y'know, I really wanted to play Monopoly…. Man!" Micky gave Mike's chest a playful swat. His hand stayed there, pressed against Mike's skin, and his expression turned soft. "I'm only nervous because I want you so much. Don't worry about what my face is saying, it doesn't know anything."

Mike pressed kisses light across Micky's face, over his cheeks and forehead. Micky laughed just because it thrilled him, a smitten giggle that made his fingers curl against Mike's skin. He tipped his head to make sure Mike kissed his lips once he was through with the rest of the sweet attention. "At least look at me," Mike requested, "Can you do that for me, Mick?"

Micky nodded. Maybe looking made it easier for him as much as it did for Mike, because he was biting his lip around a smile, face relaxed. Mike smiled back at him and pushed in slow. So slow he would've thought it was a tease, if he didn't know it was concern instead. It didn't hurt at all, felt so good and sweet and right, when Mike started rolling into him deeper, then away, to him and back again. But it was truncated; he knew perfectly well Mike wasn't giving him all of it. And maybe when Mike's face had gone red, after he'd said how large his cock was, it was from something closer to shame than pleased embarrassment.

So he breathed hot into Mike's ear, "Don't pull punches for me." And before Mike could ask what he meant— he knew Mike would ask— he gripped Mike's ass with both hands and pulled him in deep, fast, forcing a moan from them both. "There you are," he murmured, "Lemme keep you, a minute."

Mike did, staying pressed up full against him. He gave Micky even more, in fact, by rolling his hips in small, tight circles, making Micky moan his name. And they stayed there a while,holding each other, kissing first in the fleeting ways of passing glances, then deep and longing as though they'd taken notice. "I was worried," Mike admitted, when their mouths parted from each other's.

"You aren't now?" Micky asked, and then they met again.

Mike shook his head.

And then he started to move again.

"Oh, good," Micky said. Then Mike fucked back into him and he said it again, "Good," but 'good' didn't touch what it actually was. So he turned his head and bit into the crook of Mike's neck hard and ran his tongue across the indentations, because that was as close as he could get to articulating the feeling. It was saying I love you, and fuck me harder, and you're mine, and I know you're mine, and everyone will know you're mine.

He thought of continuing the conversation, then, only Mike had gotten his message, and made it impossible to talk until they were through, even when their mouths weren't occupied with each other's bodies: Mike fucked the noise out of him, made him moan and beg for it, then fucked the noise out of him, fucked him straight past noise and into silence, leaving his lips parted and barely able to breathe, never mind any talking. When he came across both their chests, he was quiet in a way he was pretty sure he'd never been in his life, no matter the circumstance, except for maybe when he'd been stuck holding the monkey's paw; gasping and eyes rolling and silent, a gagged, choked sliver of a whimper caught in his throat, in a way that only magic had ever managed before. And then Mike filled him, came in him deep, and left him knowing that no one had ever been as close to him as this, and that no one would ever be closer.

That was such a weighty thing that it took him a while, after they'd laid and kissed each other all the more, to ask, "What were you worried about?"

Mike laughed, because it was silly now that it was all said and done, even if it hadn't been silly before. "That it would be lousy for you."

"You weren't worried it'd be lousy for you?"

"Never crossed my mind," Mike said.

"Well," Micky said. He considered Mike fondly, touching his face. He kissed the bruising bite mark near his shoulder. "It crossed my mind. For both of us, it did. But then I figured, the worst things in my life aren't so bad when you're there. Like, the gangsters, and the kidnappers, and all them. All that stuff, it's really not so bad, when you're tied up in the chair next to me." He kissed Mike's face next, kissed his lips. "You make the bad things okay, the okay things good, the good things wonderful—"

Mike kissed him back, and they shared a smile trapped between their lips. "And tonight?"

"Would'a been fantastic with or without you—"

"Would've been a hell of a lot tougher if I were still downstairs—"

His laughter at Mike's joke carried right into his own honesty, made it stutter out, "—So you must've made it perfect."

#the monkees #mike nesmith #micky dolenz #dolenzmith #my fic #smut fic #i'll do 9 too lol but you all know my interests ty

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thefandom-casserole · 1 year ago

Text

Episode 52 Notes-

I say this everytime but god I’m so scared rn

I saw spoilers on discord 😭

My headphones are still broken this sounds so weird

WTF

WHAT IS THIS INTRO

OMG

ITS HEROOOOOOOOOOOOOO

AYYYYYYYY

I LOVE HER SO MUCH

I love how it’s Taylor singing about Hero instead of Normal her literal brother 😭

Taylor Fact: Taylor’s personal heaven would be hot soup not spaghetti

Just Italy and Asia have separate personal heavens

He hasn’t had his coffee

Linc Fact: Linc’s favorite dessert is applesauce

Honestly same though. But only homemade

Pork and applesauce is so good

Normal Fact: Normal still has four baby teeth in his mouth

Scary Fact: One time Scary’s mom threatened to take her to a chiropractor for an attitude adjustment and now Scary has neck pain

Anthony Fact: THIS MIGHT BE THE LAST EPSIODE

I know this one isn’t

But still

Oh god

THE TWIZZLERS OMG

AVHAHAHAHAHAHAGE

Mercedes can’t kill him fuckkkkkkk

Taylors character arc 😭 omg

Hermie Scampler omg I feel like that hit more than just Dood

Oh no Willy left

Normal Style

What was that voice from Beth 😭 😭

Spanish speaking Normal!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Autistic Linc strikes again

I love Linc so much omg

LINC DID THE SOCCER THING

WHERE HE FAKES

JMAGAHAHHAHA

SPORTS HUMOR

Hero!!!!!!-):$&:&/$:

God I love hero

ARE YOU MOCKING ME WILL?

I said that to my friend Wil today actually

HEROOOOO

My favorite bit is Taylor and Hero omg

LET HIM PASS PLEASE PELAEE

A NAT ONE

OMG

THATS FANATASTIC

HE BROKE THE SWORD

NOOOOOOOOO

The dnd experience of not being able to open a door

Hero and Normal love each a hahsjsnansndjd

Persuasion YES

SCARY

SHES NKT MISERABLE ANYMORE

“With the power of love and friendship we’ll save the world!” << Normal’s 24 persuasion roll

Nat one for Dood :cccccccc

DOOD WORSHIPS THEM

OMG ITS SO SWEET

ITS WHOLE SPEECH WAS SO GOOD

“It’s like what my dad says. When life gives you apples, you’ve gotta make applesauce”

It’s actually crazy how much I love applesauce. Especially with cinnamon. Yummmmmmmmm

GROUO HUY

Wait just found a post about kfc im intrigued wtf

Back to the topic at hand oop

WAIT WAIT WHAT

A DIMENSIOM KF

Chaos and darkness, confusion and love, fear and anger

:ccccc soemthing something that correlates to the teens and of course that’s where they go. of course.

“I know you can do this. I think you all are gonna be alright”

THIS JS MY THIRTEENTH REASON OMG OMG OMG

THIS IS MY WHITE WHALE

JESUS CHRIST

OMG OMG

THEY DUD THE THING

SAVE ME S1 SONG REFERENCES IN S2 SAVE ME

And a fucking ad ong omg

Ayyyy Willy can’t travel through realms now that’s good that’s good

“LINC what do you mean we don’t need you”

And that ladies and gentlemen is Scary, 52 episodes in. Beth May you’re a fucking genius. HER ARC WAS SO AHAHAHAHABAHBAJAHABZBBB

I’m unwell

Linc I love him so much omg.

His soccer special interest makes me so happy.

Linc is me fr I love him so much 😭

TWO TIME TRAVEKING LESBIANSNSNAHAHANSJAHA

I SCREAMED

AHHANSNABABAHS

JANE AND LIZZY

I love them so much :>>>>>>>

Immortal combat I loved that

Linc always carries a ball pump Jesus

Linc also hasn’t lost his baby teeth

NORMLINC I DONT KNWO THEIR SHIP NAME

Dolphin diver Linc

Darryl learned a lot!!!!!!! I love Darryl ong

PAEDEN

OAEDEN MABAGAHAHAGAG HAS SVGEGSFSHAHSHHAHAHHSHSHHSHAGSHAHAHSHGAGWGEHSHSHSBSHSHBSBSHSHAHAGSHAAHSHSHHSHSJSJSJSJSJJSJSBDHSJSJAHDHSAHSJSJSSVSHJSVAVSVSVVSAVV

PARDNE IN AGAHSHBSBS SBAHGABSHHSSSGHAHAHEGWWGGS

HES IN s2

I can’t breath

HAHAHAAGGSVSGVSVSVVSV

HAHAHAGSGSGGSGSGSGEGGWGWGGWGWGWGGWGGWGW

JM LOSOIMF IT

For how little that was

I replayed it so many times

Go teens!!!!!!!!!!

BETH

LINC vs Freddie’s dad who’d win

IS CHUG GONNA BE LJKE DOUG

HOLY SHIT

CHUG THE ACCIUNTANT

DOUG THE INTERNE

What a dumb name WILL

My Wil (you know who you are scuttles) if you see this know I’m looking at you. Defense is going down. Way to win rock paper scissors loser /aff

Willy Wonka and the Unknownnnnn

They

They forgot about Hermie

Again

Omg

I’m gonna lose it

They brought Hermie back

And forgot about him

This is fucking hilarious

They forgot about Hermie

Ayyy Hermie is back again

Jesus

Hermie can’t pretend to be water Jesus

Hot glue normal strikes again!!!

Teeny!!!!!!!!!!!

Taylor and Normal arts and crafts duo!!!!!!!!!

Chuggs talks like me in real life actually

Gee whilikers

Chugs the real life warrior

ROGUE IS SCARY’S FAMILIAR

FALCOR THE DOGGAGGAGABABABABABBABABAHSBAHAHAHAGAHA

Scary’s kinda scared of dogs!!! Just like me fr!!!

Swiftli crumbsbsbbabahahahahs

“Little less attitude”

Hermie!!!!!!

Hermie as Taylorrrrrrrrrrr

THEYRE COUSINS

ISH

NORMAL

SCARY’S BIO DAD SHIT MAN

FAIRYTALE

OMG

Jesus Christ

Taylor is gonna go insane if Willy kills Cassandra

HE WILL LOSE HIS MIND IF WILLY KILLS CASSANDRA

WILLY LLEASE KILL CASSANDRA

RABECCA

OG MY GOD

Finale next episode

I’m gonna sob

#Dndads s2 #dndads spoilers #dungeons and daddies

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dovey28 · 5 months ago

Text

last two days

a lady at the supermarket snuck up behind me and whispered breathily into my neck 'excuse me' and then pushed her trolly past. it was so upsetting that instead of spaghetti meatballs i had a frozen meal i was so frightened of that lady i am still scared but i did exposred therapy to day and i brought a cauliflower today and am having spaghetti and meatballs to face the memories of the lady and beat her to death

the lambs disdaneful tothe guinea pigs and they tipped the lid off their box so that cats could come eat them but i saved their lives and put the lid back on

went to get raw milk and there were two dogs two big fat dogs but they ran fast fast like my fat and i hate milk hahahahabab

and stories from tmrow ive done my exam and it went so well and i think i got the highest score that is how i felt during the exam its crazy how s can express so much feeling and raw desire

#draft #dont know what number #cats #lambs #dogs #guinea pigs #exams #gifs #gift #present #future

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yandere-to-express · 2 years ago

Text

The wrong cranium

Gender neutral

Part 3

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Just put them wherever you want. I don’t have a system in place; so long as I can find them, it doesn’t concern me.”

“Got it.” Pasta, whole-grains, spices, and sealed condiments go into the pantry. Eggs, milk, vegetables, and other perishables belong to the fridge. You enjoy this kind of work: making categories, sorting items, organizing them. It demands control. You work with single-minded focus long enough to forget what had discomfited you in the first place, but once the last package is out of your hands, it comes back with full vengeance.

“I’m finished,” you say to Peter, who’s been hovering around the stove for a while now.

He flinches and looks up at you. “Already? Alright, let’s start making dinner. Anything you want, sunshine?”

The nickname really doesn’t reflect how you feel right now, but seeing his nervous, bashful face makes you think it suits him very well. Your mood lightens a little and you reply, “Anything is fine.”

“Really? Anything? You’re really pushing my creativity to its limits— come on, give me something to work with! Sweet? Salty? Savory? Don’t worry about the effort, I already said we can make it together. And if we don’t have the ingredients, well, there’s always improvisation.”

You have no idea. You eat a wide variety of foods, and the dishes themselves aren’t difficult, but having a stranger cook for you is… oddly embarrassing.

“Pasta?” you suggest, scratching your neck. “Just, without onions if possible? Or olives?”

Peter grins radiantly, jumping into motion. “There we go! Now, could you please get the ingredients while I take the pots out?”

The two of you start making dinner. It’s spaghetti, but the kind that has eggs in its dough. You put the herbs and aromatics you want beside the cutting board and watch Peter chop his way through an army of tomatoes, your gaze riveted on his swift fingers. They’re long and thin, but strong, their flesh flexing along the elegant phalanges, carpals intertwined with blue veins. You watch the joints snake beneath the skin as the knife rises and falls.

“So,” Peter breaks the silence.

Your head snaps up, eyes wide.

“You like Italian?” He’s got a smug smirk on his face, which means he definitely saw. “Can’t say I love it, but I’ve got a special place in my heart for pesto sauce. It saved me from starvation time and time again.”

“I don’t know. I guess I like some of it? Maybe Fettuccine Alfredo, I’ve had that before. But other than fast food pizza, I can't say I’m an expert.”

“A shame. Maybe we can grab a bite sometime? It might be fun!”

Your mind stutters in its tracks. Is this a date offer? Who am I kidding, you think. It’s Peter. Of course it’s a date.

You didn’t know whether you wanted to go or not. On one hand, it was Peter, and you were supposed to be wary of his intentions. On the other hand, it was a date. You wanted to go. He was patient, kind (for now), and there was a zero percent chance of you getting an opportunity like this— this being someone, anyone, asking you out. So what if it's your devoted stalker? You’d just died. You deserved to have the things you wanted, didn’t you?

One item in that category just happened to be this guy. Let’s hope this didn’t go south.

“Or not?” he said. He’d turned toward you, his smile slightly flat. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be Italian? We could get something else instead! There are lots of cuisines, and so many restaurants in the city, I’m sure we could stumble on a good one by chance—”

“No, no, I’m down, we can go,” you interrupt, tentatively putting your hand on his upper arm. “We can do Italian if you want, but maybe we should check the pasta first.”

He blinks like a cat, looking at the contact point. “Pasta? Why—” His eyes widen, and he spins around to see the pasta pot almost boiling over. “Oh shit! Fuck, fuck—”

It takes two minutes to calm down his apology ramble, with you repeating again and again that no, forgetting pasta on the stove does not make him a failure of a cook, but it does make him a clumsy one. You hope he won’t fall apart at the slightest mistake next time, but since this is technically your “first date”, you suppose that he deserves some leniency. He’s never met you face to face after all, and he’s been admiring you for a long time. Anyone would be anxious.

And besides, seeing him so flustered is giving you flutters in the belly. You’ve always liked bubbly, nervous people better, feeling calmer and more confident around them as if to balance out their shyness.

“I was wondering though,” you started while putting the plates. “I never learnt your name. What’s it?”

And of course, it agitates him. “Ah… You know what, I don’t like my name all that much. You can call me whatever.”

“Okay, Whatever,” you shoot back, giggling at his world-weary expression.

“You know what I meant! Ugh, I guess it’s better to just get this over with: it’s… Peter.”

“Peter?” You relish finally being able to say it. “That sounds pretty normal. I thought it would be something like Dick or Jormungandr.”

“Jormungandr?” he repeats, flummoxed. “Why would— no, well, it might not be as bad as Dick, but there were still lots of people that made fun of Peter the same way they made fun of that. Which made high school even worse.”

You don’t have a suitable response for that, so instead of ‘That’s rough buddy,’ you say, “Oof. Come on, let’s have pasta.”

He sits right beside you at the table, no hesitation. You’re taken aback, but not enough to deliberately move the seat around and disappoint him. You take your seat at his side, realizing late that the pot of pasta is on his side of the table.

“Let me,” you chime, moving to get the fork and divide the portions, but he catches you by the wrist, his thumb digging under your pulse, into the divot beneath your palm.

“No,” he inserts himself smoothly, taking the utensils. “Let me handle it, darling.”

Your heart rate picks up. He’s sure to feel it, with his hand covering your entire wrist, and you’re certain that the tick at the corner of his lips is another smug little grin, concealed poorly. You’d love to lie and think, this is so demeaning, but you like it. The physical contact. The pulse of blood under his hold, and how little skin there is between them. And when he gives you your portion— scooping a very generous helping— not many have treated you like this. Indulgently. You like that he’s spoiling you, and that he won’t let go of your arm. It makes the logistics of serving spaghetti a little messy, but he doesn’t seem to care about it so long as he can hold your hand.

“Enjoy the meal,” he says, giving you one of the happiest smiles you’ve ever received. Then he gives you a fork, twines his fingers with yours, and starts gobbling up the food.

You stare at him, then at your interlocked fingers, your nearly brushing palms, and stare at him again. You’re sure he’s right-handed. The fork is held awkwardly in his left hand, but the pasta is somehow reaching the target without any incident. And still, even when the fork wobbles in his hold, he doesn’t let go of you.

You avert your eyes and start to eat. You’re not going to get attached because of fucking spaghetti. (Maybe the way to the heart is really through the stomach. Just, in a very different way than you expected.)

After washing the dishes (Peter having put up a valiant fight to take over the task, until you put your foot down), he leaves you alone while you get ready in the bathroom. He tells you where the spare toothbrushes are and asks that you choose whichever suits your fancy. Indeed, he has a large selection of toothbrushes of many types: soft and hard bristles, small and big heads, regular and vibrating, and in several colors. You aren't sure whether he's bought all these just for you, but for your own sake, you decide to ignore that thought.

In the end, you just choose one at random and go through it as quickly as you can. You don't imagine what's going to happen to the brush after you leave. You don't imagine why Peter was so enthused about it.

Well. You try. Unsuccessfully. Your head conjures the images without delay. You remember that his tongue is long and sensitive, and that the brush you've chosen is one with harsh, coarse bristles. You imagine his expression if he ever scrapes it over his tongue. How would he feel? Would he press it to his gums, swipe it across his palate? Would he search for the remnants of your saliva? You think so. It doesn't arouse you, not really, but it makes you feel a spark along your skin. Like an electric shock. (He'd be ecstatic. The thought is hard to get rid of, but you manage.)

In any case, you won't be there. This doesn't concern you. You spit the toothpaste out and clean the brush, leaving the bathroom. The moment you do, you're faced with Peter looming over you, manic attention etched into his gaze, like the prick of a needle. He’s been waiting in front of your door.

"All done?" he asks. His hands are hidden behind his back. But the tense way he holds his arms makes you think that he's trying to keep them behaved, rather than holding an emergency chloroform bottle. 

You nod.

"Great! Come on, I'll show you to the guest room."

He brings his left hand out, stretching behind your back and over your opposite arm. Steering you manually, he shows you to your bed, then insists on giving you sleepwear too.

"Well, it'd be extremely uncomfortable," he says when you show hesitation. "These are my sister's old clothes— since you're smaller, I thought they might fit you. Sorry, I don't have anything else."

"It's… fine, really. You've already done so much, I feel like an ingrate here."

"Of course not! If anything, I'm glad the clothes are getting some use. My sister doesn't visit anymore, so they're just, you know, rotting. In the closet. Ha ha, that makes me sound like a horrible host, giving you threadbare stuff. Let's forget the last part."

You hold up the clothes. They look rather small when compared to what you're wearing.

"Oh," Peter intones behind you. "It's smaller than I thought. Weird. I could have sworn…"

"It's fine! I'm sure it'll fit." You'd make do. It's not like you've never worn small sizes before. You move to slip it over your arms when you suddenly notice that he's definitely not looking away, and surprisingly, not even hiding his interest. 

You turn and look at him. He looks back at you, eyes glassy, saliva wetting his lips. It's a rather exposing feeling. 

"Um," you say, then trail off. How do you tell him to tone it down without revealing what you already know, and possibly scaring him off? 

The short answer is: you don't. Peter snaps out of his entranced state and bursts into awkward laughter, jumping off the bed and backing away to the door. 

"Sorry, my bad, totally spaced out there," he says. Opening the door with one hand, still facing you, he does a side-step behind and gets one last word in before disappearing, "Good night, sweet dreams!" 

The door closes. You thought maybe he'd lock you in, but there's no sound indicating that. Oh well. It was only the first day, after all. You shrug it off and get into the comfy pajamas, luxuriating in the sensation of the soft, feather-light fabric, like a cloud caressing your skin. The bed is equally comfortable as you settle in, sinking slightly from your weight. Now, the only thing left to do in the quiet, empty night, is turn off the lights. You reach out to the switch on the wall beside you, but freeze. 

Right. 

It's right there, beneath your hovering finger. You urge yourself on: Go on. Click the switch. Bury us in shadow. Your finger does not obey you, however, and it droops back to its place upon your abdomen, resting. The light bulb is annoyingly radiant above you. Your eyes, as they continue watching it, cultivate patches of darkness in your vision, as though your body was artificially creating that which you were so afraid of. With your sight so overwhelmed, your mind turns to other stimuli to smother it— a deep, ringing echo in your ears, passing back and forth inside your skull, and the previously heavenly sheets now feeling like slime along your skin. You rub your legs against each other, twisting them around bone and overheated flesh. It's a hot night, but you're not sweating, though sweating might have actually been helpful. At least then, you could have a clear solution. (You do not look at the switch. It's not important.) The night deepens outside the window, but neither your eyelids nor your paranoia drop.

It's not working, and you're awake. A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells you that it's two minutes until 1 AM, but with the way you're suffocating, you'd have thought it was already morning.

Restlessness drives you to sit up, look around. After a while, fear takes a backseat in favor of boredom, and you imagine Peter using this room. It's neater than you'd imagined. The furniture is pretty tasteful, if a little utilitarian, and there isn't even a mote of dust. Maybe Peter would sit in that chair and do paperwork, or maybe he'd lie on the bed and play games on his phone. You don't know. You never learnt what he liked besides the player character, and it's not making you feel better right now.

Your hand rises again (muscle memory and nostalgia pairs together, and you forget that you're not home, that you're not—) and touches the light switch, but terror kicks the brakes before you can do it. No. This is not home, this is not your world, and this is not you. You take your hand back and trap it under your thighs, tears welling up in your eyes.

Okay, you think, maybe I can't handle it.

The need for sleep is getting to you, so you stand up, leave the room, and make your way around the apartment, all the while turning on the lights. Sometimes a walk helps. You track your slipper-covered feet all over the hallway, the bathroom, the kitchen, and finally, you reach Peter's bedroom. When you finally stop to think, your hand is already on the doorknob.

He could be sleeping. But there's a just as likely possibility that he's doing weird stalker shit, and you don't want to break the illusion of normalcy yet. You're tired. You just need sleep, and you've realized you can't do it alone. (You hope he won't say no.) So instead of barging in— though your stalker might have enjoyed that— you knock three times.

There's a moment of quieter silence, like a disturbance in the air disappearing, and then you hear the sound of tangled sheets and falling footsteps, and there goes the door, revealing Peter with mussed hair and a hastily thrown-on shirt.

"Hi?" he says sweetly, breathless. "Um, ha ha, this is— a surprise. Did you need something? I heard you moving around—"

Was he watching?

You wonder if he has cameras around. Why would he though, in his own house? Something about that fact is niggling you, but you can't see why. You decide to ignore it.

"Sorry to bother you, I just… couldn't sleep." It feels trivial when you say it out loud, but you can’t back out now. "I’m probably disturbing but—"

"No! No, you’re not. I mean, you can definitely bother me. I could make tea? Or maybe a snack? Or…"

He pauses here, gaze flickering around, then settling back on you. "Or," he continues, "I could introduce you to Rat? If you need a distraction."

You stare at him, not understanding, then remember: Rat's his snake. His pet snake. It lightens your mood a bit because you've never seen a live snake before. Your feelings are pretty mixed; some part of you is afraid of getting bit, some part of you is insanely excited, but most of all, it gives you an excuse to talk to Peter.

You answer, "I'd love to. May I come in?"

"Of course! Feel free to, it's really no problem. You can go anywhere in the house, there's no room off-limits."

He turns on the light, hurries you in and closes the door. But this time, as the small yet distinct sound of a lock registers in your senses, the hairs behind your neck stiffen.

He's locked you in. You search for a window, but to your unease, there's none. You've walked right into an exit-less room, of your own free will if not your own stupid desperation.

"Sorry for the mess," Peter says. His desk is riddled with papers and random gadgets, and there's a spot at the corner that houses a heap of unwashed laundry. The smell isn't that bad though— just musky, like warm skin. And obviously, the bed is looking like a storm wrecked it up.

You think about him tossing and turning, chasing a slumber that won't come. Warmth dances along your rib cage.

While you're there, distracted, Peter nears the desk and gets the snake out of its tank. "Hey, sweetie," he's whispering, and you turn to watch him handle the animal. He's looking at it like he's holding a baby, like it's both precious and frustratingly weak, but the way he's carrying it makes you think he could be doing this for hours and still not get pissed.

He gestures you closer. "Come here, let her smell you. Gimme your hand—"

You extend your hand and he takes it, bringing it closer to the snake's head. You're entirely fascinated as Rat nuzzles your fingers, sluggishly nudging your knuckle, but the rest of your attention is on Peter's grip around the base of your palm. His fist has enveloped your whole wrist, and his fingers are twining up, touching the sensitive crevices of your inner hand. You feel his breath fan over your cheekbone, and the click of his swallow.

Rat goes back to rest soon after, and then there's no more need to hold your hand, but Peter keeps it aloft, palm to palm. Is holy palmers' kiss, you recall. Shakespeare, or something. You're way too occupied by the touching to ponder on it. As if that wasn't enough, Peter's thumb makes its descent down your ulna, tracing the outside of your arm until it comes to a stop, enveloping your elbow.

"Something on your mind?"

Can you tell him?

You avoid his gaze, but you can feel that it softens.

"Let's sit," he suggests, "Your legs will get tired." He guides you to the bed, sitting down beside you at the edge. Rat tightens her coil around his forearm but doesn't awake.

Interested despite the situation, you take the opportunity to brush your fingertip down her back. It's a smooth and pebbled sensation, the scales warm and alive under your hands. Seeing your enthusiasm, Peter demonstrates how to pet her without bothering, and soon enough, your hands end up tangled upon the snake, giving warmth to the same patch of scales.

You like the thought of him having her. There were so many opinions on him on the Internet, canon and fanon, but somehow they all seemed... shallow, egocentric or unnecessarily dark to you. You enjoyed consuming fan-works that depicted him as a person, someone with wants and emotions of their own un-enforced by a script. Someone you could love back.

And as you sit here, cradling the sleeping snake between you two, you start to think that it might come true some day. You watch his hands, unable to look away, just like you did all day. They're gorgeous. The long, lithe shape of them, the strange dichotomy of their fragility and strength, and the way their skin glows with life. To hell with holy palmers' kiss— You want to take them between your palms and rain kisses all over them. You'd press your lips on the back, look up at Peter's flushed face, and continue along the trail until…

You sneak a glance, finding him already watching. He's holding a calm, content smile on his face, as though he was— as though he could—

"What kind is she?" you ask, your pulse thundering.

"Eastern hognose. You can tell by the color— Southern hognose snakes aren't ever black. Additionally, since Rat's female, she's bigger than a male— it was a pain to find a big enough tank for her, but I was lucky it worked out—"

You're buried under a whole slew of snake facts, eating habits, and a photo album of Rat booping the camera. However, just as you're getting really into a video of Rat digging into sand, Peter tenses up beside you.

Immediately after you notice, he forcibly relaxes, laughing it off. "I'm talking a lot, aren't I? Sorry about that, just tell me to shut up whenever. You've gotta have a lot on your mind, right? I'll be quiet now."

"No, it's okay! I like it. You really love Rat, it's nice to see."

"Ha ha, you think so?" He avoids your gaze. "Let's— um— you sure I can't help with whatever's bothering you?"

Your mouth opens to say no, but he continues, "And not just that, but what happened in the park too. I know that kind of feeling, and I've struggled with it before, so maybe… I thought, we could work on it?" You hear his swallow. "Together?"

Together. It's a foreign thought. You're never 'together'. You have friends, you have family, but it never seems to matter when you're in the clutches of fear. You trace the line of your life, fast forward it in time, and when that black, unresponsive screen faces you, it's never about who you surround yourself with.

Then again, you've never tried this before. Sharing this feeling with someone.

You rest your hand on Rat's tail, and let your body tip to Peter's side, your temple bumping into his shoulder. He flinches at the contact.

"Imagine this," you say. "You're out of time. Out of time— the world slides past you in the blink of an eye, and everything that made you, you, dissolves into nothing. And now, there isn't anything— nothing but you and emptiness exists. Endless, infinite space, and it's bigger, older, and darker than you could ever imagine. And you're... nothing. Try, for a moment."

Peter doesn't seem to understand where you're going with this, but his arm rises to embrace you one-sidedly, laying his head on yours with a deep sigh.

"I'm imagining it," he says. His voice is tremulous, and it makes your heart melt.

"It's not cold, not hot. No light, no texture, no sound. There's nothing there aside from you."

His hand squeezes your shoulder. "It's lonely."

Your throat closes up. Not yet. You exhale the difficulty out, and continue, "Try to hold onto that for more than a moment. A few seconds."

He presses his face into your hair, his fingers biting bruises into your skin. You know he's doing it, and his earnest effort is visible. Audible. You can hear his swallow, the blood rushing in his veins.

"I can't," he admits. "Sorry."

"It's fine. I can't either." You continue to pet Rat, but she twitches awake and looks at you. "Oops. Sorry, baby."

"Let me put her back," Peter says, rising. He smoothly retrieves and deposits her back into the heated tank, waiting a little to watch her burrow into sand.

His side on the bed is already cold. You resist the urge to lie down on the remnant heat, reminding yourself again and again that it's rude, that it's not what people do when they're guests.

You're startled out of your thoughts by Peter's footsteps. He stops in front of you and kneels on one knee, his face angled upwards.

For a moment, your brain is full of static, and then a completely unhinged thought slaps you flat: Is it already sex time?

You mentally slap yourself back to sanity. Peter's not getting between your legs, he's getting on his legs. You're having an emotionally charged conversation, and for God's sake, you are not going to have sex with someone you just met. Perverted stalker behavior? That's fine. You can shut your eyes and pretend you can't see. But this requires active participation and you're not ready for that.

Abrupt interlude aside, you watch as he puts his hand— singular hand— on your knee, gently pressing his thumb into the grooves on the joint. His face is somber as he speaks.

“I’ve never…” He pushes the words out. “Had hope. I couldn’t afford to. I mean, why go to all that effort when it won’t even help?”

He tries to give you a smile, but you can tell he’s not feeling it. “So for a long time, I just sort of drifted. It was like I was waiting to die, you know? And it… was fine. I didn’t really care. I didn’t have anything I wanted out of life, so why bother, right?”

This is making your heart hurt, because you can’t say anything in return. No comfort, no advice, no consolation. You don’t think he’s looking for it either, but—

You don't dare touch him back, but you lean forward, supporting your torso with your elbows on your thighs. You avoid looking at him in the eye though, even with his face so close. Instead, your gaze falls on the floorboards.

“It doesn’t sound like you have given up,” he says. His hand descends and takes yours, as though they were the poles of a magnet, coming together. “When you described it, you weren’t thinking like— like someone dead. You sounded like someone looking for a way out.”

Are you? Is there a way out of this? How do you come back from being—

—deleted?

A total system reboot cannot make exceptions for singular items in its universe. The code is wiped clean and the existing structure is returned to factory settings. But even after erasure, isn’t the emptiness of the system a constant and an anchor by itself? The beginning equals the en̸d̶i̵n̸g̷, the̶ ̸d̶a̷r̴k̴n̷ess follows light, and the̷ ̴d̷a̸r̵k̵n̴e̴s̴s̸ ̵i̵s̵ ̵t̴h̸e̷ ̸w̸o̸m̷b̶ ̵a̶n̷d̴ ̷t̶h̶e̵ ̵c̸h̸r̶y̸s̴a̸l̶i̴s̷ ̴i̷n̸ ̸w̸h̴ic̴̖͕̓h̶̤̥̅ ̴̬͒t̶̠̦͆̑h̸̭̣͝ȩ̵̝̿m̴̖͌̚a̴̘͖̾ẗ̸̬́t̴̙͒t̸̨̆ę̵̑̒ř̴̳b̵̖̗̽̿ẹ̵͎̈́c̴͖̏͝o̷̤͍͗m̸̭̈̀e̸̯͇͒̂s̶̺͙͑a̸̭͛̀n̴͎̈́̌d̴̲̀̽ͅt̷̞̂h̷͚̊̅ḙ̷͝ ̴̛̦m̷̞̒̌ ̴̨̍ẩ̸̦ ̴̱́t̸̟̩́͝ ̵̺̥͛t̷̡̏ ̴̭̲̋e̵̫̹͌ ̴̭͖̿r̴͖͇̔ ̴̠͆t̷͕̾͝h̸͖̔a̵̝̲͐͋͌͗́t̴̛̙̫̹͆͛̓̏ ̶̥̠̳̺̒͌d̷̰̬͖̘͆̄͋̏͠ͅ ̸̤̌̄̅̀ô̸͓̕̚ ̴̨̮̫̣͉͂͒̒̽̀e̶̞͙̝̰̽̌͠ͅ ̵̨̦͇̎͛́̕̕s̸͉̪͉̹̎̐̃͘̕ ̵̢̡̆n̶̡̈́’̷̳̦̟̂̌̊̍̈͜ ̶̛̣͙̀͂͝ṫ̸̩̣͇̹͚ ̴̞̬͙̺̻̄̈̂́l̷̨̠̝͕̊̅̕̕į̸̋v̷̟͉̱̀̊̏͝e̶̝̿̿̚͝ơ̸̩̝͓͚̱̋n̴̠̺͚̽͒̋͐̌i̸͎͔͌n̵̮͋͑̏͠t̵̢̟̯̲̀͊ḣ̷͚̞͚̪̊ē̶̺̒̍̌l̴̢̳͑̇͋́i̵̟̦͍̍̓̈́͗̕ģ̷̗̯͉̯̂͘h̴̻̑͑ť̶͕̉b̴̢̘͍̜͚̍̎̃̾͘ẹ̸̩̝͙̮̿͆c̴͚͔̜̣͔̀̐͒͆͝o̵̘̮͑̑͋̎͗́́̏͒̆͛̀͛̃̈́̄̋̽̚͜m̴͈̦̟̺̟̄͝ę̵̘͖͈̣́̈͒̋̃͘͝s̶̡͉̟͇̬̬̖̝̙̥͕͇̤̉́͂̒̌̈́̕͜t̵̢̪͙̣͚͎̩̦̲̳̹̜͉̲̥͌̅̍̈́͊̿̀͌̓̄͘̚͝h̵̘̖͎̞̲̘̮̝̼̲̻̟͓̪̩̏̔͜ͅấ̴̩̝̲̮̇̑͋̆͌̕͠͠t̸̡͍̼͙̅̐͛͆̌̒́w̴̠̗̰̒̈h̶̯͍̯̣̓̋̈́̾̍̋͛͆͂̑͌͂̇͗̓̿̈́̚i̸̼͎͆͐̈́͊̓̈̆̑̓͠c̶̡̙̘͈͚͙̬̝͇̔̇̑̈́͗͆͌̌̏͌̐̊͒́̾͆̅͜͝h̵͙͈̀̍͠s̴̢̛̞̻͈͉̪̤̈́̈̇́́͛̓̈̋͐̍͊̚͘̕ù̸̢͓͕͙̣͖̩̫͖̠͒͂͋̎͗̈̿̿r̸̨͎̲͚̖̤̞̋̋̎̅̈́̔̓͋̅̏͆͘͝v̶̨̪̱̜͎̉͗͒͊̊̉̊̀͒͠į̵͎͕̠̬̰̯̋̊͌͊̍̅̀̏͂̂̇́̄͆̕̚ͅv̵̤̮͆̈̀̉͝e̸̡̨̡̧̪̠͇̱̳̙̗̬̬̯͎̼͒͒͗̀̌̂͗̃̌̔̉̀̍̓̕͜͠s̸̛̰̟̥̪͎̞̩͑̽—̶̨̡̢̹̹̰̜̞͙̻͌̇̏̔̆̊̽̏͂͝͠

Y̸̟̱̜̭̼̝͛͂͒O̸͓͓͑̈́͜͝U̴͍͇̠̦̜̦̐̎͛͑̂̊̃̾͝͝—

̸̫͗͂͐̂̏͗

c̸a̵n̵ ̸y̷o̶u̵ ̸h̴e̶a̴r̵ ̷t̸h̷e̴ ̴s̵o̷u̶n̷d̶?̷

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You realize you’re awake, still. Peter is kneeling in front of you, staring with wide eyes and parted lips. You don’t know what just happened, but there’s a strange relief in your heart. The fear has been lifted, and in its place is affection. A sense of sincere gratitude.

“I,” you rasp, voicebox worn, “need sleep.”

That moment, you both become aware of your position, the way you’re face to face with lips mere inches apart. Peter springs backwards, limbs animated as he stammers his apologies, but you’re unable to listen. Sleep is beckoning you like a siren to the seabed. You feel yourself swaying in time to a melody you can’t hear and can’t articulate, but you have enough willpower to keep your eyes open, watching your stalker get a futon and a spare pillow out of a wardrobe.

“You can take the bed, darling,” he’s saying, “I’ll sleep right here, right beside you. You don’t need to worry about anything. If— If you get scared, you can peer over and see me, right? So you know you’re— that you’re not alone. I’ll be there.”

He finishes with the floor bed and comes back, manually lowering your unresponsive body onto the mattress. It’s not as soft as the one in the guest room, but it smells like Peter and your spine stretches with soft micro-clicks, relieving an ache in your back that you hadn’t even noticed. You look at him dopily as he pulls up a light blanket over you, rubbing it flat around your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you tell him.

His eyes snap up to yours, wide and perfect blue, and avoid again. He doesn’t reply, but you’re tired, so you don’t care. Peter leaves your side and you hear his voice again, quiet.

“Good night.”

The light switches off.

Your breathing speeds up, but there’s no foreign presence inside you. Instead, it’s familiarity that crawls down your rib cage, filling out your empty spaces, cocooned inside your warm flesh. Your body temperature cools down, and slowly, sleep claims you as its own.

Morning welcomes you late. You slept in and ended up waking around ten, burr around your eyes. After washing your face, you go to the kitchen and find Peter in the middle of a battle with the ready pancake mix.

“You’re awake!” he exclaims. Gesturing to the mess on the counter, “Sorry, looks like I’m only good for chopping and boiling. It tastes okay though! It’s edible. I think.”

You start laughing and can’t stop, devolving into giggles and snorts. You end up taking over batter duty and Peter flips the pancakes instead. He’s good at determining exactly when they’re browned, something you still aren’t very proficient in, so you make a good team and soon enough, you have a batch of pancakes ready. Just as he said, they taste perfectly sweet and have the consistency of fluffy bread.

“I think I should take cooking lessons,” Peter says, wilted in defeat.

“You’re fine. Pancakes and crepes are difficult. The pasta went much better.”

He whines about it some more, but you’re enjoying it. You shove a few more bites in your mouth in spite of your full stomach, exaggerating your chewing, and it seems to make him happier.

While you’re finishing up, you find your phone and check your messages, only to remember that Y/N works at a diner and that you weren’t there today. There are seven messages from TK asking about your whereabouts, and three from Lucy asking where you were, dated midnight.

“Everything alright?” Peter asks.

“Yeah, it’s okay. It’s just…” You read the ones from TK first. They start off with simple reminders, then they become harried ‘are you OK?’s and move on to ‘I’ll cover for you THIS TIME’. And then—

‘Boss says you’re fired if you aren’t here by noon COME ON’

You push the phone in your back pocket and start zipping your bag up, lightning fast. Peter is hovering behind you— you can feel it— but there’s really, really no time to waste. You don’t wanna risk being unemployed when you don’t know what the job market is like, and there’s a bit of a fear inside you that not being a waiter might fuck up the narrative, if there’s any.

“I could drive you if you’re in a hurry,” Peter offers.

You spin around to face him. “Really?”

“Yeah! I mean, you’re gonna take the bus, right? We’ll be there faster with me.”

“Thank you! So much!” You’re tempted to kiss his cheek, but you hold it in and do a very brief hug instead. He’s at least ten inches taller than you, so you end up hugging his chest, but it checks out.

You hurry him up while he gets his keys. Just like in the game, his vehicle is a big white van that looks handmade for kidnapping, but you push that thought to the very back of your mind and shimmy into the seat with nervous energy. As Peter starts the engine, you begin wondering if you are even capable of working at Dad’s Damn Diner. Y/N was used to it because they’d been doing it for a while, but you aren’t, and what if you get fired anyway? And then you’ll end up looking for a job anyway.

Peter must have seen your somber face because he says, “Don’t be too intimidated. You’ve been working for a long time, they’ll forgive one late day. They’d be stupid to let go of you.”

You’re about to thank him when you remember that no, you haven’t told him your destination actually, and additionally, you haven’t told him about your work either. You refrain from sighing and slapping your forehead. But what if I was perceptive and didn’t like you, Peter? What then? You can’t afford to be careless with the information you’re NOT supposed to know!

“Thanks,” you say instead, dryly. “I don’t know, I think there are a lot of people who would work harder for less pay. I can’t slack off if I wanna keep my job.”

“At a decent place? Sure, workers for cheap wages are dime a dozen. At this shithole? Not really. Like I said, they’d have to be stupid.”

Fine. You lean your head onto the headrest. Surprisingly, it’s the perfect height to support your neck. You siphon some good feelings from that and spend the rest of the ride with your eyes closed, resting your mind.

Soon though, you’ve arrived. You unbuckle your seat and move to open the door when a hand stops yours in its grip. You glance back. Peter’s face is awfully close to yours, flustering you a little.

“Um.” You look at the car window instead. “Yeah?”

“You know, when I saw you at the park, I thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen.”

You look back at him in shock. What? His cheeks are a little flushed, and his smile is lopsided. Your brain is chanting, What are you doing? What are you doing?!

“So,” he continues, his other hand traveling up your arm coyly. “I was wondering if I could take you out for dinner?”

Oh you just HAVE to say it like that, don’t you? “Technically… you already have.”

“I’m insatiable,” he admits unabashedly. “Both for food and for you.”

You bark a laugh. Alright, you gotta give it to him, that was smooth. Since you were already planning on it…

“Okay. I’ll bite.”

He perks up. “Really? I mean, good. I’m happy that you agreed! How about I come and pick you up at the end of your shift?”

“Do you even know when that is?”

“...I’m guessing it’s around four or so. And I’d come even if it was late. I don’t think you realize how much I want to go on this date.”

You’ve never felt so embarrassed before. It’s like every word he’s saying is dousing you in gasoline, and the heat you’re generating just from your face is crazy.

“Okay, fine, I accept. I surrender, whatever.” You push his face away with your open hand, making him grunt in surprise. “See you later?”

He smiles. “Yeah. See you later, darling.”

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