#that I’m just attention seeking or that I’m not being grateful enough or that I’m

[anne-chloe]

Imagine : Peter chooses you to be the Lost Boys’ mother

Summary : Peter Pan is fed up of hearing the younger Lost Boys cry for their mothers at night. When his shadow steals a 6 year old boy, Peter commands the shadow to take the boys sister too. You.

Peter Pan x Reader

Warning : manipulation, toxic behaviour, kidnapping

You could remember it like it was yesterday.

The shadow that crept in through your little brother’s bedroom. It had moved with such inhuman speed that it just didn’t seem possible. You had tried to protect Martin from being kidnapped into the night, but you were unaware of its intentions to take you too.

And so you were taken to Neverland, a world where children would never grow up. A world where an immortal boy ruled with cruelty and an iron fist.

Peter had greeted you with a smile so sinister it made you nauseous. “Welcome to Neverland,” he said with a chuckle, “the boys have been waiting for you.”

You had followed him, with Martin holding your hand, all the way back to his camp. There were boys of various ages scattered around a campfire, all talking amongst themselves, some soaking up the quiet and others causing chaos.

But the moment Peter stepped beyond the tree line, silence fell. The Lost Boys stood to attention and watched as Peter approached. “Boys, I promised you a mother, and I’ve picked the finest one.”

You.

You were to be their mother.

You rejected the responsibility at first. You stood your ground and you argued with Peter. “I’m not staying here, and neither is Martin. We have a mother at home, and you stole us from her.”

Peter closed the gap between you and him, his smile dropping and his brows furrowing into a deep, irritated frown. “Unlucky for you, no one leaves Neverland without my permission. I chose you to be their mother. So be a good girl and play the role.” Peter then looked to Martin, his green eyes glowing with something sinister and unrecognisable. “Or else there’ll be consequences.”

You hesitantly stepped into the role. The older Lost Boys weren’t fussed about calling you their mother, which you honestly were grateful for. But as time went on, and the days turned to weeks, and soon into months, none of the Lost Boys addressed you by your name.

“Mother,” Devin called out one evening. He held up his hand to reveal a squirrel he had caught during his hunt, a proud smile on his face. “I know you asked for rabbit, but none of them fell into my trap. Will a squirrel be okay for dinner?”

You gratefully plucked the squirrel from his hand. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“Mother, I’m hungry,” Tommy whined, his hands holding his stomach as he stepped towards the campfire. “How much longer until we eat?”

You stirred the pot of stew carefully, it’s delicious aromas filling the evening air. “Soon, Tommy. Have patience, sweetie.”

“Mother?”

Martins voice was enough to make you choke on air.

You stopped stirring the stew and turned slowly to peer at your younger brother. He stood amongst the Lost Boys, his eyes large and innocent. “What did you just call me?” You slowly asked, your heart feeling incredibly heavy in your chest.

Martin stepped closer, his head tilting to the side, like he was confused. “Mother,” he repeated, sounding certain of himself.

“Martin…” you whispered, reaching your hands out and gently taking him by the arms. You knelt down so you were eye-level with him. “I’m your sister. I’m not your mother.”

Martin frowned, conflicted. “Then who is my mother?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but found the words stuck in your throat. The desperate, confused expression only served to shatter your heart completely, and you didn’t have the courage to stomp on his tangled thoughts.

You dropped the conversation and finished preparing dinner. You ensured all the boys were fed before seeking out Peter, who was a small distance from the camp and overlooking the bay from a great height.

You approached him, hands wringing your dress nervously. “Peter?” You called out, hesitant and fearful for how the conversation would end. “I… I need to speak with you.”

Peter, who was perched on a branch high in a tree, turned his gaze downwards to look at you. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “What is it, [Name]?” He asked.

You were unsure of where to start. You inhaled deeply to calm your nerves. “I want to go home.”

Peter’s smile dropped into a frown. He slowly dropped from the tree, landing effortlessly in front of you. His head tilted to the side, like he was a confused puppy, but you knew better than to mistake his expressions for anything other than cruel.

“You are home,” Peter pointed out.

You gently shook your head. “No, I mean I want to go home to the place you took me from. I want to go back to my own mother.”

Peter moved closer to you, his frown deepening. “And why would you want that?”

You struggled to keep steady. You fought the urge to shuffle back, to maintain a safe distance. But Peter would never take you seriously if you showed any fear. “I miss my mother, Peter. Martin, he…” you hesitated, struggled to finish the sentence.

Peter raised a curious brow. You didn’t even need to finish the explanation, because it was suddenly as though Peter knew anyway. His smile returned, and a deep chuckle vibrated his chest. “Oh, I see. Martin called you mother, didn’t he?”

Your silence only confirmed Peters guess.

“Isn’t that wonderful?” Peter pressed, smirking playfully at you. “The boys adore you. I couldn’t have picked a better mother if I tried.”

“I don’t want to be Martins mother,” you whispered defiantly. Your fists shook at your sides, though you were unsure if it was from fear or frustration. “He doesn’t remember our mother. It’s not fair.”

Peter scoffed. “Life isn’t fair. Get used to it.”

Peter turned to walk away, a clear indication that he was finished with the conversation. But you reached out and grabbed his hand, forcing him to stay and look at you.

“I’m begging you, Peter. Let me go home. Let me take Martin back home.”

Peter moved close to you, his nose almost touching yours. Your breath hitched in your throat as his eyes, so cold and cruel, bore into your own. “Nobody leaves Neverland without my permission. You aren’t leaving, ever. You’re the mother to my lost boys. You’re going to be their mother forever, whether you like it or not. And if you continue to defy me, I’ll lock you in a cage and throw away the key, and you’ll never see Martin again. Do you understand?”

You gasped and stumbled away, a sob catching in your throat from the cruel threat. “I understand,” you choked out, tears appearing in your eyes. “I won’t ask again. I promise.”

Peter snickered a laugh. “Good. Perhaps you should return to the lost boys now, before they start calling for their mother again, hmm?”

[yanderederee]

Baji with 12 if it hasn't already been requested for the writing event

Event prompt12:

“We’ll burn it down and then we’ll build the world again.”

a/n:using the full context for this prompt; this is JD’s way of expressing how he intends to kill the guys who bully Veronica for spreading false rumors about her… and I want in on that👹

got a little too lost in the sauce and couldn’t find a good time for this as a line of text though; so please accept this instead.

cw: extreme bullying, toxic solutions, murder

Baji seriously had enough.

On the first day of school, Baji noticed your pencil drop under your desk, and decided he’d retrieve it for you in passing. You were so grateful for his assistance, completely over the moon with gratitude. It would have been unnerving, had you not been so sincere.

Usually, he wouldn’t give a normal person like you a second thought. But that sweet smile of yours captured him.

Ever since that day, Baji’s had his eyes on you. You were careful in the way you moved and talked, doing your best not to get in anyone’s way, or say the wrong thing. Soft spoken to a fault, but always kind and considerate.

Baji made an effort to talk to you more in class, soon after. You relied on him occasionally, enough to eventually call each other friends. But your relationship was only began to develop… He couldn’t have known about the bullying you experienced whenever he wasn’t around.

You never told anyone about the extent of your mistreatment. You thought it’d go away on its own— that ignoring it and paying it no mind would eventually make you less entertaining to mess with.

It wasn’t so bad… at first. A teasing here, being shoved there.

And Baji had no idea…

—-Until today.

It was just another school day. Cruelly early, bustling with students who were unusually chatty about the latest gossip hanging in the air.

“Are you serious?! That girl from Class-3?! I never would have guessed...”

“It’s always the quiet ones, I guess. Slutting herself out for attention though? How pathetic.”

“She’s not even that cute, you know Takeru just did it with her out of pity.”

“He told me she’d kept begging him for it! How disgusting!”

“Gross! I hope I never have to sit next to that whore ever again~”

‘Jeez, girls these days are so harsh’ Baji thought to himself in passing. Who were they even talking about? Some girl in class-3? That was his class. Well, he doubted he’d know who it was either way.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Upon entering the threshold of his class, Baji was frozen in shock.

It was routine for him to seek you out and chat with you for the first few minutes of class, before the bell rang.

However, instead of being met with your greeting grin, all that remained was a completely destroyed, empty desk.

Your desk.

His blood was boiling.

That was it. He’d seriously fucking had it.

Immediately, Baji looped his arms through the straps of his school bag, and made a B-line for your desk. He picked it up, and held it upside down by the metal bars underneath.

He wasn’t sure if you’d already seen the damage or not, but he decided right then and there no one else fucking would. It was fucking cruel. And he was pissed beyond measure.

“Baji-san! Just where do you think you’re taking that desk?” His teacher hollered after him. “I’m throwing it away!” He yelled back, a seething rage evident in his tone. If the teacher said anything after that, it didn’t even register to Baji.

Baji had a feeling you were aware of the rumors going around. You were always on time to class, so he was sure you’d also seen your classmate’s cruel defacing.

First and foremost, he was throwing this fucking desk away. Then, he’d go looking for you.

He wasn’t sure where to find you, though.

Possibility 1; you never came to school to begin with.

Possibility 2; you went to class as usual, saw the desk, and ran away. It was a toss up between if you went home or stayed on school grounds.

Those were the most likely possibilities he could think of.

Having finally made his way to the school’s dumpster, he took a moment of rest before tossing it in.

If there was one thing to beware of about Baji, it was his blinding hot rage. He’d practiced composing his tempter while in school. He couldn’t let himself lose his cool so easily. Calm down. He had to calm down, especially before he went looking for you…

However, fate had other plans…

Two wanna-be delinquents could be overhead chatting while ditching class behind the dumpster.

“You mean Y/n, right?”

“Yeah that’s the one! Takeru said she almost drew blood with how bad she was at sucking dick!”

“Poor guy. She probably wasn’t any better in bed…”

More Fucking Rumors…

Baji quickly untied his hair, and slipped his glasses into his school bag. If he couldn’t control his tempter, he could at least try to maintain face.

Baji stalked up behind the two punks, the desk dragging behind him in an eerily tight grip. He soon came close enough in distance to lift it single handedly, and slam it over the back of both of their heads.

Before they had time to react to their sudden assault, Baji just kept wailing.

With both hands, he kept swinging the desk up and down.

When they moved to dodge, he swung against the side.

When they tried to move away, he crushed their kneecaps.

When they begged for mercy, he hit harder.

Over and over, until he began to spin out of control. Wild with disgust and hate, the lies they would have spread were eating up all the sanity he had.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

Fuck.

Every.

Last.

One.

Of.

You.

“Pl… se…. … op… st…op—“ whispered out one kid, his last words sputtering past his broken teeth.

Wait, what happened?

Baji had a sudden moment of clarity. Two kids, beaten maybe a little more than half to death, laid motionless before him.

Shit, did he go too far?

When was the last time he blacked out like that?

But the rage circulating in his fists had yet to subside. “You conscious?” He asked his begging victim. The poor boy’s crocodile tears were response enough. “You ever, fucking dare, say another word about Y/n, ever. And I swear to god. I will fucking kill you.”

The punks were left there, barely alive.

Baji felt thankful he hadn’t gotten any blood on his school uniform, before discarding of the bloody desk at the very bottom of the large dumpster container.

He honestly felt a bit grateful to those two. He’d managed to blow off a good amount of steam thanks to their insolence. He took a deep breath, and began wandering the school in silent deliberation over where you may be.

Where were you… home, or school?

He’d figure he’d try his hand at looking over the school first. Careful to avoid any of the hallway monitoring teachers during classes, Baji checked every floor throughly.

Eventually it came down to the roof, or you’d ran home. Usually, the door to the roof would be locked at a normal school. However, Ryusei broke that lock long ago so he’d have constant access to the roof whenever he needed a nap.

Running up the stairs and through the roof door, he searched the area. Lo and behold, there he found you, huddled into yourself with your back against the wall. You were crying, not caring about how loud you may have been.

Finally…

Even though he’d been searching so hard to find you, now that he was actually there… Baji had no idea what to do. What to say. But he had to say something. His heart was breaking just looking at you.

Slowly, Baji made his way closer. You looked up when you heard footsteps, expecting to have been caught by a teacher. Yet you were surprised to instead see Baji, holding back a bitter expression. Quick to wipe away tears, you looked away right after. “S-sorry, I’m not feeling really well… could you please leave?” You asked shakily.

Baji pressed his lips into a line. “I know… I’m sorry I didn’t know sooner,” he said quietly, dropping to his knees in front of you and pulling you into a hug. “It’s okay to cry. Let it out.”

He made sure to hold you tight. Though, even if you had tried to escape his grasp, the overwhelming urge to cry kept you in place, clinging to him even. There, you cried for a good ten minutes or so, unable to suppress the feeling of being so humiliated and hated.

“I-I didn’t… I didn’t do anything t-that they’re saying I d-did… it’s all lies…” you sobbed into his chest. Baji knew that. He knew it. Hell, even if it was true, he’d still feel this same way.

“It’s okay, I know. You won’t have to worry about that anymore.” Baji spoke clearly, lifting your face to look him in the eyes. “I’ll make sure they apologize, and take back everything they said about you.”

“I promise, they’ll pay for the things they’ve said and done to you. No one will ever think of you in that way ever again.”

Baji promised you with fire in his eyes. While his expression would be scary to most, you couldn’t help the way your heart beat out of its chest at his words.

You were quiet for a while, wide and doe eyed under Baji’s meaningful gaze. “How… do you plan to do that…?” You asked.

Happy to see his declaration helped ease the sadness in your heart, he smiled, and kissed the crown of your head. “Don’t worry about that. Just know by tomorrow morning, everything will be back to the way it was.”

You weren’t sure why, but those words comforted you deeply. You didn’t really believe he was capable of something like that, but his intentions were enough. You smiled back at him, and nodded. “Sure,” you agreed absentmindedly. “Thank you.”

Baji felt as though for the first time since he’s met you, things felt right. You in his arms, smiling, relying on him, holding him back. This feeling he had been unfamiliar with, this whole time, was Love.

As soon as he came to the conclusion, that he loved you. Something in Baji shifted. A creature he had no idea lived inside him suddenly started making itself known.

How could they do this— to someone so undeserving of their malice? Who would ever dare to hurt someone as sweet as you?

It was an extraordinary wrong that they’d committed against you. One that couldn’t go unpunished. He hated them. Wanted them dead. Would kill them. That was the only way to make things right, he began to think.

“Come on, let’s go.” Baji said softly, helping you to your feet. You looked up at him inquisitively. “We’re ditching.” He clarified, offering you a mischievous grin.

Normally, skipping school would be against both your wishes. However, given the circumstances … You grinned back with puffy eyes. You took his hand, and together you snuck out of the school with no trouble.

Having snuck out to a nearby diner, you both enjoyed each other’s company. You two always got along well, his sarcastic remarks were somehow easy for you to read, and kept you fueled with engaging conversation.

Baji seemed like he could be the awkward sort around girls, but in truth, he simply had no interest in getting close with anyone. Only you.

It made you feel better, feel special in a way.

The day had started off in the worst way possible, but now, laughing to the point of tears with the person you liked the most, everything felt like it really would be alright….

Baji glanced at the clock, noticing how many hours had passed by so quickly. “We got one more stop to make before I walk ya home, sound good?”

You nodded at him simply, smiling wide.

… So why were you walking back towards the school?

“Uh, Baji? Where are we going..?” You asked nervously. Baji squeezed your hand reassuringly, throwing a grin your way. “Don’t worry, just trust me.”

And so you did. You took a deep breath to settle your nerves, and put your trust in the person you liked so much.

Standing off in a nearby alleyway just a few streets over from the school, Baji told you to wait behind as he stood at the alleys entrance, scanning students as they passed by, not giving him a second glance.

Soon, a familiar group of voices made your throat close up with anxiety.

“I still can’t believe you actually slept with Y/n! You sure you ain’t infected with her creepiness?”

“Hahaha! As if. It’s nice not having to see her gloomy face at school anymore though.”

“You’re the man, Takeru! Next time, invite me, Kay? I’d—“

Suddenly, there was no more outspoken foul voice speaking. “Mm? Suiren? Oi! Suiren!”

Quiet for a moment, Takeru could hear an unfamiliar thudding should come from the nearby alley.

Baji’s first punch was enough to knock the boy out cold, yet one after the other, Baji’s fist threw punches more fierce than the last.

Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die—

“Wh-what the hell..!”

Baji’s head turned eerily slow, as he watched his friend get beaten in horror. Blood and hair stuck like glue against his cheek. Before Takeru could run or scream, Baji dropped the unconscious boy, and wrapped one large and bloody hand across his face.

“Shut the fuck up. That is, unless you want to die right now.” Baji threatening voice cut deeper than bone, dragging the two boys deeper into the alley and away from prying gazes.

Takeru doesn’t dare take his chances. Obediently, he nodded vigorously, putting his hands up in defense while holding back tears. Whiling scanning the area for a means of escape once his chance came, he quickly spotted a small form not too far off, frozen and wide eyed.

You.

Oh shit, he began connecting the dots.

“Takeru Izukura, right?” Baji asked. His victim wasn’t eager to confirm this. Unfortunately for him, that wasn’t a smart move. Tightening the death grip he had on Takeru’s skull, Baji shoved him against the wall, and began ramming his fist into his stomach.

How could someone be strong enough to crack a person’s rib in just one punch? Takeru couldn’t help the pathetic yells that ripped through his throat. As desperately as he wanted to cry his apologies out now, it was impossible to so much as breath with all the air being knocked out of him with every one of Baji’s outrageous punches.

All the pent up rage Baji had been saving was finally making itself known. The events of the day began flooding his mind with white rage. The desk. The rumors. Your tears. All of it. He gritted his teeth so hard he could feel a molar chip.

All because of this asshole. Only a few minutes ago he was laughing about your severe mistreatment, and only now wanted to apologize? Even if he did want to hear his excuses and sputtered sorrows, it wouldn’t be honest. It’d have been reactive.

You stood frozen at Baji’s brutal assault. You had half a mind to step in and stop this whole mess, but after catching a clear glimpse of Takeru’s face… you gulped.

“B-… Baji.” You called out quietly. Upon hearing your voice, Baji immediately stopped. Blood soaking his knuckles and face, he looked your direction, an unreadable expression on his face.

Should he feel shame for letting you see him like this? Maybe he should, but nothing like that came to surface. After your call, all he felt was attentive. He waited for you, as you moved closer, looking his victim in the eyes.

“I want… to hear what kind of apology you have to say.” You combed through your words carefully. You felt hatred for him, but had he given a sincere apology, maybe you could forgive him.

Takeru looked at you, warily. “It’s your fault I’m in this position in the first place—“ he tried reminding you, but a heavy fist broke his nose in response. “Try again asshole.” Baji warned.

Your bully sobbed. “I’m sorry! I fuc-cking sorry, okay! I won’t make shit like that up again!! I swear!”

You felt bile rise in your throat. “That’s it?” You asked, waiting only a few moment for a response. When he looked at you expectingly, you grew angry.

“You don’t even remember the half of what you’ve done to me, do you…” you chocked on tears you didn’t want to surface. “How about a sorry for tripping me down the stairs the first time we met? An apology for ‘jokingly’ pushing me against the desk, and flipping my skirt up for all your buddies to see?” You began listing ways he’d fucked up. His face went pale, now under two sets of hostile eyes.

“That so?” Baji’s deep tone only sent the beaten boy into a cold sweat. “W-wait! I’m sorry for that too, okay! R-really!”

But he wasn’t. Not really. He was just sorry he was caught.

“I don’t give a damn what happens to you. Whatever happens is what you deserve.” You swallowed hard, and took a step back. “Baji…” you drew your gaze back to him and his blank eyes. You didn’t know what to say.

But he understood just fine. “Leave this to me.”

[kquil]

hello! I'm here to request a 🍪 with poly marauders, where they ask the reader if they would like to be their partener and they're nervous and stuff

-thank you, have a lovely day !!

A/N : this is the finally cookie requested from my 1k milestone event, thank you so much for the request, darling and im so sorry for taking such a long time to deliver it, i really hope you enjoy the read, my lovely!

They had never been so nervous or anxious before. You were the one and only person to accept their unconventional relationship over everyone else when they first revealed that they were in a poly relationship with each other. What makes the situation even more anxiety-inducing is the fact that you were one of their closest friends, long before they even got into a relationship with one another, therefore, if they really followed through with this, they’d be risking their long-time friendship with you as well. Looking into each other’s eyes, it’s clear that they share the same anxieties for the decision they wanted to ultimately make. 

Having understood and supported their relationship more than most, you were their common confidant and dearest friend… no… being around you didn’t feel like being around a friend, nor were you like any type of sibling to them. You didn’t fit into any comfortable category or label anymore. That line and distinction was blurred a long time ago, maybe even before they got together as a trio. 

You felt more than a friend when you helped Remus through his thoughts on a daily basis, speaking to him softly and laying out his thoughts with much more clarity than he could ever imagine. You’re always there to help him go through his problems no matter how minute they may be and the tall brunette is incredibly grateful — he never wants to take you for granted. You don’t feel like a friend when you know exactly what Remus needs after a long and hard day. And, especially not when you allow him to hold you tenderly from behind as you help cook the boys their dinner, especially when they all feel lazy and tuckered out from a long day’s work. Remus would often press his face into the slopes of your neck and shoulder, breathing in your familiar fragrance and would sigh in relief, your scent giving him comfort. His arms wanting to hold you longer than what was appropriate for ‘just friends’, oftentimes, you’d let him without any complaints of discomfort. 

“Are you feeling good, Rem?” you’d muse, your voice like sweet honey and warm milk to his ears, cosy and ever so comforting. 

“Mmmm…yeah,” he’d reply, appreciating the hand you would reach up to briefly comb through his hair and massage his scalp with.

You felt more than a friend when you knew exactly what to say to Sirius if he was ever acting up. He had a horrible habit of acting first and thinking later, however, you were the only one who seemed to calm him down enough to temper his fury and instinctual need to act first, giving him clarity with your words and gentle touch. He’d be on the ground, back against the wall and burying his face into the plush warmth of your stomach as you kneel between his legs. He’d hold you desperately, clinging onto the fabric of your clothes as you soothe him by petting his hair and saying everything he needed to hear in that moment. Somehow, you always knew what to say. You don’t feel like a friend when he’s spooning you from behind, seeking comfort and warmth as you read a book. Your book wouldn’t hold your attention for long, however, as you would eventually deem Sirius’ comfort and needs more important than your need to finish a book. So, like clockwork, you’d turn around in his arms and he could finally feel the reciprocated action of your arms winding around his figure and pulling him close. Naturally, he buries his smiling face into your chest and you’d soon begin humming a soft tune to fill the already comforting silence. 

“Don’t leave when I’m asleep…” Sirius whispers pleadingly, whining almost. 

“Never, Siri,” and that was all he needed to fall into a deep slumber, smiling and always finding the sweetest dreams that often featured you as well as a great amount of kisses. 

You felt more than a friend whenever you’d let James sit in the kitchen with you and ‘help’ you cook breakfast, lunch or dinner, whatever it may be. He’d watch you with such fond eyes, he was surprised that you never noticed his more than friendly appreciation of you. Every once in a while, you would turn to him with a spoonful of the dish in your hand and ask him to have a taste — it was his turn to contribute to the cooking. It made him feel important and involved and like he was sharing a special moment with you.

“How is it, James?”

“As perfect and delicious as always!” he replies happily, licking his lips and grinning even wider when he hears your melodious giggle follow straight after. 

“I couldn’t have done it without your immaculate taste in food,” you would humbly reply, cupping his cheek and staring into his eyes with what he wants to deem as love and affection from someone who’s more than a friend. That small moment of joy, however, is quickly broken as soon as you turn your attention away from him. James fights the urge to turn you back to him, lean forward and capture your lips in a heated kiss, a plea and desperate attempt at convincing you to love him, Sirius and Remus as official partners.

You don’t feel like a friend when you would go out of your way to be there for James whenever something was happening in his life, big or small — you were there for him when he was getting ready for his job interview, when he got the job, got his first promotion, when he wanted to eat lunch with someone because he felt lonelier than usual; you were there for everything and so much more. 

It only felt natural for them to take that final step with you but, just like how nerve wracking it was for them to confess to one another, it was the same apprehension that clogged up their throats and made it difficult to form the words. 

“What’s wrong, you guys?” your soft voice pulls them out of their concentrated apprehension. It was the usual Saturday lunch you spent at their flat except, this time, they cooked the meal for you — it was a pleasant surprise, especially when their cooking turned out better than it typically did. For a while, you were the only eating the food, ignorant to their spiralling thoughts. However, when you finally did notice, the concern was evident in your eyes, largely because James wasn’t hoovering up his food like he usually was, nor was Remus engaging in conversation with you about the book you were both reading together, nor was Sirius subconsciously expressing his deeply learned table etiquette and reprimanding James of his lack of manners like a mother hen. Today, they shared the same daunting expression and it was contagious, rubbing off on you like the plague. 

“We uhhh…” Remus begins, gulping with difficulty as he shares a look with the others, “we have something to ask you…”

“What is it?” your question is filled with caution, a direct response to their strange unease around you, “You guys are acting very stra—” 

“We love you!” James blurts out which immediately diminishes your worries and draws an adorable giggle from you, one that they all melt over.

“I love you guys too,” with a smile, you happily continue your meal and completely miss their intentions. 

“No,” Remus says, “not like that…” his statement makes your brows raise in shock, you search their eyes for answers as your heart begins to race — both from fear and a hint of hope.  

“More than that type of love, dollface,” Sirius clarifies, hoping that it was enough for you to understand them. 

James reaches over and touches your hand, caressing your knuckles tenderly with his thumb, “we don’t just love you, we want to love you,” it was a little saying between you and James, one that made you fall in love with him and eventually Sirius and Remus too. 

With happy tears welling up in your eyes, you look into James’ hazel pools and finally finally see the abundance of love swimming in them, only for you, “like the verb?” you ask in a tear-filled, weak voice. 

James laughs and nods eagerly as Remus and Sirius smile fondly at you, the latter of the two reaching out to gently wipe your face of the tears spilling past your waterline, “like the verb, love,” James brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses them lovingly.

Your answering nod was all they needed to round the table and pull you into an embrace, their lips eager to meet yours in a passionate and loving embrace. 

1K MILESTONE EVENT : CLOSED | NAVI.

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

I’ve Got You

Summary: Y/n always finds safety in Natashas arms, so it stands to reason that after she was injured in the Avengers fight with themselves that she would seek her out. This time though Natasha offers more than just safety, she offers Y/n her heart.

Warnings: some very slight angst, reader has a penis, sexual content(grinding, oral, fingering, handjob, vaginal sex) 

Word count: 5109        Nat Masterlist   Marvel Masterlist 

   Natasha sighs as anxiety consumes her once more. She's safe in her safehouse, well trailer, in Norway now but she still hasn’t heard anything about you since the fight in Germany and she's extremely worried for your safety. She wishes she at least knew your whereabouts. Knew if you were safe somewhere. Knew if you needed her help, or even just needed her like she needed you.

   You and Clint had been the ones sent to kill her, and she's forever grateful you both chose a different option. She was trained by you both to become a Shield agent, causing her to form a fast friendship with you both. Clint had become like the older brother, whether she wanted him to be or not. And you, well you had become her best friend. But she'd be lying if she said friendship was all she felt for you. You make her feel things no one ever has before, things she hopes you feel for her as well.

   She's never been great with feelings or emotions, the Red Room made sure of that, but with you she would be willing to try. If she could ever gain the courage to tell you so, that is. She wanted to tell you, she really did. But the fear of you not reciprocating those feelings, or of her not being good enough for you won out everytime.

   But now, after being on opposite sides during the accords, seeing you get beat up pretty badly by T’challa before almost getting captured by Ross’s men….She knows she has to tell you, because she can’t risk losing you like that again. 

   For now, as she waits to hear from Mason about any news of you, she settles in to watch her Bond films and eat her caviar. She tries to ignore the pit in her stomach, but without you by her side nothing seemed to feel right.

   She's brought out of her thoughts by a shuffling sound outside. She quickly arms herself with her pistol, standing to head to the door only for it to slowly open before she gets there.

   “I will shoot whoever walks in that door!” she calls out

   A familiar chuckle has her lowering her gun, “You wouldn’t shoot me, would you Natty?”

   “Y/n?”

   “You know anyone else that calls you Natty?” you tease as you open the door fully, allowing her to see you. She's shocked by your state, you look awful. Like you haven’t had rest since Germany, which was highly likely. You stumble into her living room and nearly collapse, but she catches you instead.

   “What happened? Are you ok?” she asks in quick succession as her worried eyes scan your face

  “Well, I didn’t really have a chance to tend to my wounds from T’challa before Ross’s men were on me. Managed to evade them for a bit but they almost got me the second time. I’ll be alright, just gotta clean up and get some rest” you tell her, attempting to pull away and stand on your own, but she can see how weak and tired you are

  Her hold on you tightens, “Let me help you, please”

  Too tired to pretend you can handle it yourself, you nod and let her lead you to the small bathroom. You sigh as she leans you against the counter, and you let your head rest against the wall as you rest your eyes. You can hear her rummage around for the first aid kit, a washcloth and some extra towels. Once she finds the items she gains your attention with a soft hand to your cheek.

   “Where are you hurt?”

  You shake your head, “Its ok, I can- ”

   “Y/n” she sternly says, “You can hardly stand. I’m helping you.”

   “Ok” you sigh. 

   You carefully remove your shirt, letting her see the bruises and scrapes that litter your abdomen and chest below your bra. Her eyes land on a hastily bandaged section of the right side of your abs, blood starting to seep through. You can see the concern etched in her brows. 

   “The Panther's claws.” you tell her and she nods

   She gently removes the bandages, causing you to hiss as the cool night air hits your wound. You watch as she runs the hot water, getting a washcloth damp before bringing it to your side. You grunt as she cleans it. She then pours alcohol on the same washcloth, bringing it to your skin once more. This time a gasp leaves you as pain ripples through your side. Again she cups your face to offer comfort.

   “Shh, detka(baby). It’s ok.” she coos, not even noticing the pet name slipping past her lips, “Now I just have to give you stitches, put ointment on, and then new waterproof bandages so you can shower.”

   You nod again, watching her grab the proper stitching materials. You clench your jaw as the needle pierces your skin repeatedly, closing up the four lacerations. You're relieved once she puts ointment on and it's rebandaged. “Thanks Tasha”

   “Of course, do you have any other injuries?” she asks, obviously still concerned about you

   “Yeah..” you sigh, “Left thigh. One of Ross’s guys was quick with his knife.”

   Her face shows even more concern, and she instinctively moves for your waistband. But then it hits her just how vulnerable this must all feel for you and she can’t help the blush that rises to her cheeks as she hesitates, “Can I…?"

  You chuckle, "Don't know how you'd stitch me up otherwise"

   She nods and proceeds to pull them down around your knee. The slice is caked in dried blood, a small trickle still running down your thigh. 

   “Shit, this looks pretty deep.” she exclaims, getting up to grab the washcloth

   She runs it under warm water again, watching you out of the corner of her eye as she does so. Your breathing seems normal, but you're definitely exhausted. You need rest, food, and plenty of water. She's determined to give you all those things and won’t take no for an answer. She won’t let you give an excuse about how the team being separate will be safer and how you only came to her because you knew she'd have the supplies you needed to tend your wounds. Not that she thought you'd say that, but the fear of you leaving now that you were here with her was immense.

   You grunt as she presses the cloth over your wound. She's careful, yet tentative enough to get most of the dried blood off you. She rinses the cloth out, pouring alcohol on it before approaching you again. Her eyes rake over your body once more, just to make sure you aren't hiding anything from her and she's glad you're too tired to have your eyes open, otherwise you would have seen her blush when the slight bulge at the front of your boxers caught her gaze. She quickly refocused on the task at hand, pressing the cloth against your thigh again.

   “Fuck!” you shout, not expecting it to burn worse than your side had

   Natashas apologetic eyes meet yours, “I know. I’m so sorry, it'll be over soon.”

    Her free hand instinctively rests on your abdomen as she rubs soothing circles on your skin. You nod, knowing it has to be cleaned no matter how much pain that brings. She removes the cloth and grabs the equipment for stitching you up once more. You clench your jaw as she works to close up the wound. Her soft hands remain on your thigh a few seconds longer than necessary after she bandages you up, not that you mind.

   “There. That should do for now, but I’ll need to redress them again tomorrow.” she says as she stands, “Are you going to need help?”

   “I can manage” you tell her, not believing it entirely yourself but you knew that if you were ever privileged to see Natasha naked, you didn’t want it to be because you needed help while injured. 

  She nods, “Alright, I’ll leave you some clothes on the counter and I’ll be in the next room in case you need me”

   You let your shoulders slump as she closes the door and you take a shaky step towards the shower. Eventually you manage to get your bra and boxers off and you step into the already running hot water. You let yourself relax, holding yourself up by leaning against the cool tiles. The door opens and you tense up slightly before remembering it was just Nat with your clothes. 

   You don’t realize she lingers a moment, wishing to check on you and longing to be able to join you. She decides against asking if you were alright, not wanting to come across as overly concerned, even though she was. She simply sets your outfit down before exiting the room once more. She takes a seat on the edge of her bed and waits as her leg bounces with anxiety. Part of her wants to tell you how she feels, to hold you and never let go. But the other part screams at her about love being a weakness, about how you deserve someone with a less bloodstained ledger and hard to escape past.

   She's brought from her thoughts when you emerge from the bathroom, a slight wobble to your step. She has to resist smiling like the lovesick woman she is when she sees you in her sweatpants and shirt.

   “You alright?”

   “Yeah. Just tired.” you reply, not wanting to tell her you couldn’t remember when your last meal was. She always has been good at calling your bluffs though, she was a trained spy afterall.

   She smirks, “Want some take out? I've got plenty of leftovers from earlier.”

   You sigh, “Yes please.”

   “Come on, we can sit on the couch and watch something as we eat.” 

   “What Bond film did I interrupt?” you ask with a chuckle

   She scoffs, pretending to be annoyed that you knew her so well, “Moonraker”

   “Not one of the best ones, but not one of the worst ones either.” you reply, earning yourself an eye roll from her.

   You sit on the couch and soon she joins you, takeout containers in hand. She doesn't say anything as she watches you scarf down the food, she only smiles knowing that she's able to take care of you. You sit back with a hum as you absentmindedly scoot closer to her, seeking out comfort and warmth. It isn’t long before you end up falling asleep tucked into her side with your head on her shoulder. 

   Carefully she turns, bringing you into her chest as she lays back, her arms wrap protectively around you as your head now rests on her chest. She watches you for a bit, wanting to make sure you were sound asleep before she places a soft kiss to the top of your head.

   “I’m so glad you're safe” she whispers into your hairline

 She isn't aware of when she fell asleep and she isn't aware as to why she's suddenly woken up, until she realizes she no longer feels the weight of you on top of her. She immediately sits up, and when she doesn't see you anywhere she can feel her panic build. 

   “Y/n?” she calls out as she enters the bedroom. She lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she'd been holding when she sees you emerge from the bathroom

   “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.” you tell her, “I just needed some pain killers”

   She shakes her head, “It’s ok, did you find them?”

   “Yeah, I got them.” your brows furrow as you notice her disheveled state, “What's wrong?”

   “Nothing, I just…” she trails off, but your hand on her shoulder encourages her to continue, “I was worried that you left.”

  Her admission was quiet but you heard it, and there was no mistaking the vulnerability in her voice. It tugged at your heart. “I’d never leave without saying goodbye first Natty. Besides, I’m much too injured to travel right now. I’m lucky I made it to Norway.”

  “Don’t say that” she says, taking a seat on the bed

   “Tasha, I was bleeding profusely on the airplane runway, which led Ross’s men right to me. I had to fight them off and flee while patching myself up as well as I could. Then once I thought I’d lost them, they ambushed me in Serbia and nearly sliced my artery open. You were my only safe option, if I hadn’t found you…well it wouldn’t have been good” you reason with her

   Her jaw clenches as she looks away from you. She fights back the tears in her eyes, not liking how close of a call you had actually had, “I should have helped you. I shouldn't have talked with Tony and then ran, I should have just gone to you and ran with you.”

  “It’s ok, you- ” you try

   “No Y/n” she takes a deep breath, “I saw that you were hurt fighting T’challa, and still I went to help Steve instead. Ross could have had you arrested or worse, and instead of making sure you were safe, I saved my own ass.”

   You sigh and take a seat beside her. You gently grab her hand, “You couldn’t have risked helping me and you know it. You double crossed Tony and Ross and we both know neither of their egos would allow that to go unpunished. They would have used your background against you”

   “I don’t care. You could have died, and I never would have forgiven myself” she admits

   “But I didn’t.” you remind her, “I didn’t die. I’m ok.” She finally looks at you and you can see the unshed tears in her eyes. You smile softly, cupping her face and bringing your forehead to hers, “I’m right here.”

   She nods as a few tears finally slip down her cheeks, “I was really worried about you. I’m glad you found me”

   “So am I” you admit, “Though, it’s more like Mason found me, then told me where you were.”

   She chuckles, “Well, I’ll be sure to thank him. Even if he did give me Fanny as an alias.”

   “He didn’t!” you laugh out

   “Oh he did. Fanny Longbottom.”

   The two of you erupt into laughter as you think about the ridiculous name. Her gaze shifts to you smile, the one she's always loved to be the cause of and your gaze shifts to her eyes, you have always loved how they seemed to sparkle when she was happy. 

  Lost in her eyes, you don’t notice how you've begun to lean into her, you only notice when your lips lightly press against hers. But you quickly pull away, afraid she wouldn’t reciprocate the gesture or would be upset with your advances. However your attempt to move away is quickly stopped by her arms as they wrap around your neck to keep you close.

   “No, please” she rasps out, her hands tangling in your hair, “Please kiss me”

   You surge forward, connecting your lips once more as your hands grip at her waist. She hums and gently straddles your lap, careful of your injured leg as she grinds down against you. Your hands make their way under the back of her shirt, traveling up her back and leaving chills in their wake. She moans, allowing you to slip your tongue inside her mouth. 

   She grinds down again, and this time she can feel how the bulge in your pants is beginning to harden as it presses against her ass. You can’t help the moan that leaves you as you feel her against you. Her excitement and hope for finally getting to be with you grows the longer you keep your lips on hers. 

   She pulls away, nearling panting for air as she grinds down once more. And your mouth moves to her neck as your hands go further up her back. She relishes the groan she feels against her skin when you realize she's already braless and she shudders as your hands move to the front of her, gently running up her abdomen before palming her breasts. You can feel her breathing quicken as your thumb skims over her hardened nipples. She grinds against you again and you squeeze the soft mounds in your grip causing her to moan.

   “Is this ok?” you breathe against her neck between kisses

   She eagerly nods, “Yes…please don’t stop”

   You move back up her neck, kissing her softly as your hands grab the bottom of her shirt. You pull it off her and nearly forget how to breathe when you see her naked upper body in front of you. Yes you'd seen her in tank tops before for training and immaculate dresses for parties, but this was entirely different. Before you had to admire subtly from across dancefloors and training mats. You didn’t have to do that now, she wanted you to see her. All of her.

   Natasha shys under your gaze, finding herself somewhat nervous as your eyes take in every inch of her. Some of her scars had never been seen by anyone other than her and those that inflicted them or stitched them up and she worried what you would think of them. Your thumb gently traces a longer scar that rests slightly lower than her breasts near her sternum causing her to realize how badly she wants your hands back on her. She's about to ask you to touch her again like you were earlier, but then your head is moving towards her chest and as your lips touch her skin she finds it very hard to form words.

   "Y/n…" she whispers, clutching at your forearms to ground herself

   You hum, briefly pulling yourself away from her chest, “You're so beautiful Natty”

     A shy smile makes its way across her face, accompanied by a light blush and the way she squeezes her thighs together does not go unnoticed by you. You gently kiss the scar again before moving over to one of her breasts. You suck her hardened nipple into your mouth causing her hands to grasp at your shoulders as she arches into you. Your hands move to squeeze her ass as your mouth moves to give her other breast the same attention. She moans when she feels your hardened cock rubbing against her, and she finds herself desperate to feel you inside her. She can feel her arousal dripping from her and she knows her panties are ruined.

   “I want you, detka(baby). Need you so badly, please” she whispers against your lips as they meet hers for another kiss. Your heart pounds in your chest as you quickly remove her from your lap and lean her against the beds pillows and headboard

    You stare at her for a moment, taking in the way her lips are slightly parted and her chest heaves as she breathes deeply. Then you meet her gaze, “Are you sure?”

   “Yes” she nods, “I’ve never been more sure about anything, or anyone”

   You smile before connecting your lips to hers again, letting your hands trail down to her hips before moving them back up to cup her breasts. She desperately clutches at your shirt, overcome with the urge to have you as close as possible despite already having you there. Your hands make their way back down to her hips and your fingers slip below the waistband, ready to pull them down completely. But before you can do so her hands grab your wrists and she pulls away from your lips. She pauses for a moment, her eyes scanning your face.

   “You're sure about this too, right?” she asks, insecurity lacing her tone

   “Of course I am. I only want you.”

   She smiles widely, letting go of your wrists so you can continue to pull her pants from her body, and you stare in amazement at the wet patch that you find on her underwear. She shifts slightly under your gaze, wordlessly trying to hasten your movements.

   “You're soaked” you whisper as you let your thumb press the damp fabric against her clit, making her hips jump, “And so sensitive”

   She lets out a breathy moan as you rub your thumb in slow circles and her grip on your shirt tightens, “Need more. Please detka(baby)”

   “Aww, is my thumb not enough for my needy girl?”

   She shakes her head, “No, need your cock please. Wanna feel you”

   “Fuck baby…I wanna feel you too, but I gotta get you ready for me first.” you explain as you finally pull her underwear off her. She automatically spreads her legs further apart for you and you praise her by caressing her thigh, “Gonna taste you first though”

   Her breath catches in her throat as you lean in, your tongue kitten licking her sensitive nub before parting her open and slipping inside, “Ooh!”

  You hum, enjoying the flavor of her and her hands grip onto your hair tightly, practically forcing you to bury your face in her cunt. Not that you would complain about such a thing, you’d gladly give her whatever she wanted. Which is why you slip a finger inside her too. You pump your digit in and out of her at a steady rhythm as your mouth focuses on her clit until she's nearly dripping onto the sheets. Then you slip a second one in. She moans at the stretch, arching into you

   “That's it. You're taking my fingers so well baby.” you praise, curling them inside her making her walls clamp down around you, “Does it feel good, Natty?”

   “Blyad'(fuck)! Yes!” she answers, fists tightening in the sheets

   You hum, “You like having my fingers inside you?”

   “Oh god yes!” she's cut off by her own moan as you move your fingers even faster, “I’m…I’m gonna- ”

   “Go ahead baby, cum for me”

   “Y/n!” she shouts as she cums into your mouth. You happily swallow it all and continue your mouths and fingers movements to help her ride out her high, only stopping when her grip on your hair lessens and she whimpers in protest

   You crawl back up her body, placing soft kisses against a few scars before reaching her lips once more. She sighs as you rest against her and wraps her arms around your neck as you make out. Eventually her hands begin to tug at your shirt and you separate to allow her to pull it off you. 

   You chuckle as she simply stares at your chest licking her lips, and you move one of her hands to your breasts, “You can touch”

   That's all the encouragement she needs and she brings her other hand to your other breast, letting her thumbs rub against your nipples as they harden in the cool air. She brings her mouth forward and latches onto one of your nipples, sucking on it as her hand pinches the other and you moan at the sensation

   Wanting to make you feel just as good as you’d made her feel minutes ago she lets her free hand wander down between your bodies, and you're so focused on the feeling of her mouth as it makes its way up to your neck that you don’t even notice her hand slip your pants and boxers down, freeing your cock, until her lithe fingers are wrapping around you. 

   “Shit Y/n” she mumbles as she slowly begins stroking you, your size surprising her slightly. Your hips jerk forward at the sensation and it doesn’t take her long to find a decent pace, your breathy moans and grunts only encouraging her

   “Just like that baby, feels so good” you grunt, resting your forehead against her collarbone

   “Yeah? You gonna cum for me?” she asks, rubbing her thumb against the large vein on your shaft

   You rut into her hand, “Fuck! Yes!” 

   “Come on detka(baby), cum”

   Spurts of white hit your stomach and hers as you release and the way you moan has arousal pooling in her belly once more. After a few more strokes she lets you go and you practically collapse against her as you regain your composure. Her hand comes into view, a few drops of your cum on it still, and you watch as she cleans them off with her tongue. That action alone has you getting hard again and she smirks when she feels it.

   “You like watching me taste you?”

   “You don’t even know” you groan out, moving positions to be above her once more, “You ready for me baby?”

   She nods, “God yes, please”

   You line yourself up with her entrance and smack the head of your dick against her clit a few times before sliding inside. You bottom out in one swift movement and a guttural moan leaves her at the feeling of being stretched so wide. She's even tighter than you thought she'd be and the way she's squeezing you already has you light headed, so you still for a moment to allow you both to adjust.

   After a few minutes she wiggles her hips slightly, her green eyes boring into yours, “Please move now. I can handle it, I promise”

   You smile and kiss her softly before slowly beginning to thrust your hips. Her tits bounce as you move and you can’t help but lean down to suck marks against their plump flesh. Her moans only increase in frequency and volume as your pace picks up and her hands grip onto you so tightly that you know her nails will be leaving marks behind.

   “Your pussy fits me so well baby. Feels incredible” you praise, cupping one of her breasts and squeezing

  “O bozhe(Oh god).” she manages to get out between her moans, “I’ve never been so full, feels so fucking good”

  “Gonna be even more full when I cum inside you” You tell her, moaning as her walls flutter around you, “Oh you like that huh?”

   She nods, “Yes, please cum inside me detka(baby)”

   You start pounding into her even harder then, eager to give her what you both so desperately want. After a few more thrusts she wraps her legs around you, and you can feel by the way she tightens around you that she's close.

   “That's it baby, make a mess on my cock”

   She throws her head back with a moan of your name as she cums hard around you, sending you head first into your own orgasm. You moan as you paint her walls white with your seed. You continue to thrust your hips to prolong the pleasure for both of you only stopping when she's a shaking mess beneath you. 

    “Shh it's ok Natty I got you.” you coo, stroking her cheek, “You did so well baby. Such a good girl”

   “Your good girl” she mumbles with a smile, making your chest fill with warmth

   You nod and bring your forehead to rest against hers, “My good girl”

   After a few more minutes you slowly pull out of her, watching a bit of you cum leak out of her as you do and she's struck by how full she still feels. She can’t even imagine how much cum you pumped inside of her for that to be the case. The thought alone has her head all fuzzy.

   “Come on, let's get cleaned up in the shower really quick. Then we can go back to sleep”

   She nods and allows you to help her out of bed. You help her stumble to the bathroom and can’t help but giggle at the look of bliss on her face still and she quiets you with a kiss before letting you turn the water on. You both help clean the other, each feeling a sense of pride at the marks you’ve left behind on the other and even after you're done washing you stay a while longer just basking in the other's presence.

   Neither of you bother to put on another outfit after you dry off, the likelihood of them coming off in the morning is high so why bother. Instead you simply crawl into bed and under the warm covers. You open your arms for her and she immediately settles against you. She wraps her arms around you and buries her face against your neck. It's silent for a while, and for a few minutes there you think she's asleep, until she moves to look at you properly.

   “You're staying, right?” The insecurity in her tone nearly breaks your heart, but before you can answer she continues, “I mean I know Steve said we’re all safer apart from each other, but that's bullshit because there's nowhere I’m safer than with you, and I…I just got you back. I just got to be with you. I’m not ready to say goodbye”

  You softly kiss the small scar on her left shoulder before kissing her lips, “My Natty. So brave, so strong. You're not alone anymore, I’ve got you. And I’m not leaving your side. Not now, not ever. Not even if you told me to.”

   Tears build in her eyes as she lets your words settle over her. She didn’t have to be alone, didn’t have to build walls and hide emotions just to survive. She could be fully herself with you, she could be free. She could let herself be loved, let herself be happy. It wouldn't be easy and there were sure to be hard days, but she finally felt like she could do it. As long as she had you.

   Her hands cup your face, “I….I love you” Your eyes widen at her admission. Even if she ever felt the same for you, you didn’t expect her to allow herself to be vulnerable enough to say it. Especially so soon. 

   She bites her bottom lip and her stomach flips as she waits for your response, thankfully it's a short wait. “I love you too, Natasha. More than anything.”

   Her lips crash into yours and you each poor out your emotions for the other into it. You aren’t sure how long it lasts, you were too lost in her to think of anything else, but when she pulls away she stays close enough that her nose is brushing against yours. You smile at each other before the most adorable carefree giggle leaves the redhead in your embrace.

   You give her a quizzical look so she elaborates on her giddiness, “Madame B was wrong. I do have a place in this world. My place is with you.”

   “Yes it is baby, yes it is”

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69​ @mmmmokdok @nataliasknife​ @natashasilverfox​ @when-wolves-howl​ @danveration @naomi-m3ndez​ @sheneonromanoff​ @sayah13 @likefirenrain​ @nighttime-dreaming​ @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece​ @readings-stuff​ @chaoticevilbakugo​ @crystalstark02​ @wackymcstupid @xchaiix​ @iaminluvwithnat​ @lovelyy-moonlight​ @blackwidow-3​ @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito​ @yomamagf​ @yourfavdummy​ @justarandomreaderxoxo​ @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145​ @eline03 @wizardofstories​ @imthenatynat​ @marvelonmymind​ @fluffyblanketgecko​ @bitch-616 @dakotastormm​  @zoomdeathknight @rayeofmoonlight

[beenbaanbuun]

seventeen maknae line’s reaction to their youngest member not taking care of themselves

genre - fluff

warnings - talk about unhealthy eating habits, diet culture, sleep problems

lee seokmin

would anyone be surprised if i say that dk would be on you like a fucking rash if he notices a single thing out of the ordinary with you

like even if it’s just you being forgetful, this absolute angel of a man will 100% take the time and effort to seek you and and check on you

so when you sleep through your alarm and forget breakfast one morning, it’s no surprise when you wake up to seokmin’s face

“are you feeling alright?” he asks, voice gentle as he studies your sleepy face, “you missed breakfast…”

and of course you nod, because you’re feeling fine, but it doesn’t stop him from being concerned

“late night,” you reply as you sit up on your bed and rub your face, “must’ve just slept through my alarm, minnie.”

you say it to calm him down and stop him from worrying, but you only make it worse

“late night?” he sits down on your bed and grabs your hand, “couldn’t you sleep? is something on your mind? do i need to talk to someone for you?”

and you can’t help but laugh because trust seokmin to blow it out of proportion

you just lean into him and hug him as you tell him how grateful you are to have someone who cares so much

“i’m fine though, minnie,” you squeeze him, “i just needed to beat wonwoo’s high score in mario kart…”

kim mingyu

he’s someone i can see accidentally taking care of you

like he hasn’t even noticed the fact that you’ve started to be a little too strict with your diet and yet somehow he’s managing to make sure you’re eating enough

like i can see him cooking a meal and without even realising you haven’t eaten yet, he calls you over to try it

and the big baby blows on it and feeds it to you like to overly attentive friend/self-claimed big brother that he is

“open wide, kiddo,” he grins as you follow his instructions, “here comes the aeroplane!”

he only narrowly dodges the kick you aim at his shins…

and you have to admit that the food is good, and even if you don’t necessarily want to eat, you’re in a difficult situation

you can’t say it’s bad and deny it because then you’ll upset him, but you also can’t say it’s good and deny it because then he’ll make you take it anyway

best thing for you to do is just accept the food and move on

you promise you’ll try harder with your diet tomorrow

but as you walk away with the bowl of food, you know you won’t be able to - not with mingyu around

xu minghao

i mentioned minghao briefly in the hyung line one and i stand by what i said

this man monitors your diet like a hawk!!

not in a weird ‘you shouldn’t eat too much’ sort of way, but he likes to make sure you’re treating your body kindly

like he watches that you’re not eating too much of a bad thing, but he also likes to check that you’re not eating too little

literally follows you around with a piece of fruit in his bag for when you inevitably complain about being hungry

“oranges are a great source of vitamin c,” he says when he sees you pout at the fruit, “and i know you don’t get enough of that. now eat up!”

and if he sees you even eyeing up an energy drink, you best prepare yourself for the lecture of your life

“do you know how much caffeine is in one of these?” he hold the half drunk can in your face, “too much! if you’re tired, sleep more. god knows you need it…”

little do you know, he monitors your sleep too…

drags you out to do meditation with him if he sees that you’re up too late, knowing that by the time he’s finished you’ll be completely knocked out

he’ll complain about having to drag your tired body to bed yet again, but you can’t see the smile he wears as he tucks you in and wishes you a good night

boo seungkwan

i can see seungkwan as being very overly-attentive to your mental health more than anything else

like sure, he wants to make sure you’re taking care of your physical health too, but he knows that if you’re not there’s probably a deeper reason

so when he sees you arrive at practice one morning with deep eye bags and a frown, he is all over you in minutes

“bad sleep?” he asks as he ruffles your hair. you shrug, but he doesn’t mind. you don’t have to agree for him to know that he’s right, “want to talk about it?”

you sigh, knowing there’s no way of escaping his line of questioning

“i thought it was about time i went on a diet,” you say simply as you drop your bag in the corner, “i was up late researching what diet would be best.”

he scoffs and rolls his eyes, clearly dismayed with your words

“and why do you think you need to diet?” he says with a stern look on his face and you realise you’re not going to get out of this easily

all you can do is explain your thought process, and while he listens to every word you say, it’s obvious he’s more than upset

“if you want to do this, i cant stop you,” he says when you’re finished, “but i want you to do it for the right reasons, and i want you to do it healthily.”

chwe hansol

i think vernon would take care of you a lot, but you might not always notice since he does it silently

like this man will not express his worries about you not looking after yourself, he’ll just try his hardest to solve it

you’re not eating enough? he makes sure to put more meat on your plate during meal times

you’re not sleeping enough? he puts some melatonin gummies on your nightstand

you’re not drinking enough? you’re the first person he seeks out during breaks to offer a bottle of water to

it might take you a while to notice just how much he’s taking care of you at first, but when you do you always go out of your way to thank him

but you take a leaf out of his own book, and do it a little differently

“someone gave me some melatonin,” you say to seungcheol, but just loud enough that vernon can hear, “it helped so much! like, whoever it was is a hero.”

your eyes keep flickering over to vernon the whole time you’re talking, just so he knows that you know it’s him

and sure, he doesn’t do it for the praise, but he can’t deny it’s nice when you’re hyping him up anonymously to the other members

lee chan

this man will be your partner in crime and i guarantee he can and will absolutely use that against you if he needs to

like he insists on you two doing everything together and if you say you’re not doing anything? well neither is he!

and of course, when chan says he’s not going to eat dinner because you’re not, you feel so incredibly guilty that you decide that you decide maybe you shouldn’t skip the meal

“if you’re not hungry, then i’m not hungry!” he folds his arms and stares you down

“chan, that’s not how it works,” you scoff as you scan over some lyric sheets you’d been tasked to memorise, “if you’re hungry, go eat.”

he shakes his head and stays glued to his chair with a smirk

“we do everything together,” he says, “and if you’re being irresponsible and skipping meals, then we’ll do that together too!”

and whilst his logic makes no sense, you know he means it

so of course you push your work to the side and follow him out of the room to get dinner together

and when you’re up too late working too hard, chan is right by your side throughout the whole thing, refusing to sleep until you do

and it’s frustrating because you want to take care of chan just as much as he wants to take care of you

so you eat all your meals, and sleep a healthy amount, and drink as much water as you can and it’s annoying, but if it’s keeping chan healthy then you’re happy

[childrenofcain-if]

Hiii, I hope you have a nice day. I just want to tell you that since I found your story I haven't stopped thinking about it and the characters. The way you write is amazing and I can tell you know what you are doing. As someone who writes in her spare time I must say I am in love with your writing. ✨

But seriously, you write very well, I hope the universe gives you health and lots of motivation to continue with your projects.

Now, C is the most popular Ro and I get it, it's mine too, but I want to know more about the others too. Hahaha

I don't know if you've answered this yet, from what I've read you haven't, and that's fine if you don't feel like answering or don't have time.

What would you say is the Ro's way of dealing with jealousy?

Will there be any characters who are jealous of other Ro's?

And also, what kind of voice would you describe for them? How do you imagine their voices?

Oh oh, and will there be some difference in the way Ro's interact with different MC's?

Thanks for reading and for sharing your talent with us, and sorry for talking so much and asking so many questions. Hahaha

Pd: soooo we already have amazing Ro's but is there a possibility of having you as one of them? pls 👉👈🌸

i’ve gotten so many asks about my writing and ngl, i was very surprised because imposter syndrome is a bitch and i have a hard time being happy with anything i write. y’all have made me so much more motivated and confident in my writing and i can’t thank you enough. this is to let you know that i’ve read all the sweet and supportive asked you’ve sent me and i’m eternally grateful for everybody who have faith in me and this story 🫶🏻

okay, sappy axel aside, let’s dive into the questions:

what would you say is the ROs’ way of dealing with jealousy?

C LACROIX

C’s jealousy is a quiet, smoldering thing, more akin to a slow-burning ember than a raging fire. it begins as a mere flicker, an unsettling gnawing at the edges of their mind, something easily brushed aside in the beginning. but it grows, consuming them in small, imperceptible increments.

they don’t lash out; that would be too obvious, the action of someone too insecure. instead, their jealousy manifests in control—sharp, calculated moves to reassert their dominance, their superiority. a barbed comment here, a subtle maneuver there, each action designed to tighten their grip on what they perceives as theirs.

C cloaks their jealousy in a façade of indifference, even as the venom coils tighter around their heart. the game, after all, is not about emotions—it’s about winning. and C Lacroix does not like losing.

V NÆSHOLM

V’s jealousy is a battle of wills, fought not just with the outside world but within themselves. raised on the virtues of patience and self-restraint, they resist the initial sting, the impulse to confront. V does not crumble at the sight of competition; rather, they internalize it, turning their attention inward, wrestling with the dichotomy nature of their feelings.

they pray, of course—they always pray—seeking strength to overcome what they see as a personal failing, a momentary lapse in their otherwise steadfast faith. but jealousy lingers, seeping into their thoughts like a persistent shadow.

it is a test, they tell themself, one they must pass without faltering. and so, V watches, waits, and suffers in silence, until the day when they can either forgive or be forgiven.

W OSTENDORF

W’s jealousy takes the form of a timid, creeping thing, a quiet dread that blooms slowly and without warning. it unsettles them, making them feel small, insignificant. they know what it is but can’t quite bring themself to acknowledge it. it’s easier, safer, to pretend it doesn’t exist, to bury it beneath layers of strained politeness and mild-mannered smiles.

when jealousy takes hold, W retreats into themself, seeking solace in routine and familiarity, as if by doing so, they can keep their ever-growing at bay. they avoid confrontation, preferring to suffer in silence rather than expose this chink in their armour.

they convince themself that it’s nothing, just a passing feeling, that they’re above such negative and petty emotions. but deep down, they know that their jealousy is simply fear dressed in a different guise—the fear of being overlooked, of never being enough for anyone, much less you.

D DIACONU

D’s jealousy rears its head as a raw, visceral thing, a sudden and overwhelming force that they’ve never quite learned to control. it ignites quickly, like a match struck in the dark, flaring up in an instant and consuming all rational thought. they feel it in their chest, hot and suffocating, and their first instinct is always to fight—to claim what they believe is rightfully theirs.

but D is also scared, terrified of the depth of their own emotions, and so they pull back, lashes out in unexpected ways, the anger masking a deeper fear. they’re torn between the desire to protect what they love and the dread of being inevitably hurt again.

in the end, D’s jealousy is as much a reflection of their insecurity as it is their passion—a volatile mix that will leave anyone restless, yearning, and perpetually on edge.

M WHITLOCK-SINGH

M’s jealousy is a cold, calculated affair, more of an intellectual exercise than an emotional response. they analyze it from all angles, as if it were a puzzle to be solved rather than a feeling to be experienced. they don’t let it show; that would be beneath them, unbecoming of the “paragon of styx.”

instead, M channels their jealousy into ambition, using it to fuel their drive, their need to prove that they are, indeed, the best. it’s not that they don’t feel it—they do, acutely so—but they refuse to be ruled by it. jealousy, in M’s eyes, is a weakness to be mastered, a flaw to be overcome.

and so they play the long game, biding their time, waiting for the moment when they can subtly, almost imperceptibly, reclaim their rightful place without ever lowering themself to the level of those low-level thugs who provoke it.

will there be any characters who are jealous of other ROs’?

i didn’t understand this question fully, but i’m guessing you mean amongst the ROs? if so, C would be more jealous of D if they ended up dating the MC and vice-versa. W is jealous of any ROs who date MC lmao, but they’ll try their best to temper it down.

and also, what kind of voice would you describe for them? how do you imagine their voices?

C LACROIX: silky and husky, with a slightly cold, detached quality.

cédric’s voiceclaim would be tom hiddleston, while céline’s would be ella purnell.

V NÆSHOLM: gentle, warm, and steady, with a soft, almost lyrical cadence.

vance’s voiceclaim would be jordan fisher and for vanessa, it’s the same as her faceclaim, taylor russell.

W OSTENDORF: soft and slightly breathy and raspy, with almost a drawl that surprisingly makes them sound sincere most of the time.

for wilhelm, i’d say andrew garfield comes to mind. wilhelmine definitely has gracie abrams as her voice.

D DIACONU: deep, rough, and slightly smokey. there is also a gritty edge that comes out when their emotions are getting intense.

dumitru’s voiceclaim is definitely jacob elordi, while imma have to give dumitra to sophie thatcher.

M WHITLOCK-SINGH: polished, refined, and posh, very articulate with a natural commanding tone.

maxwell’s voiceclaim would probably be a mixture of benedict cumberbatch and dev patel. i knew from the conception of maxine as a character that i wanted simone ashley to be her voiceclaim.

and will there be some difference in the way ROs interact with different MCs?

ooh definitely. it largely depends on your character’s personality and choices tbh, but don’t worry, there’s no weird stat system for that. you don’t have to kiss their asses all the time for them to treat you nicely, however, you shouldn’t be overly rude either because that’s going to lose friendship/romance points.

i guess what i’m trying to say is that your MC doesn’t have to be a complete doormat to progress with their platonic/romantic relationship with the ROs. some of them, like C and M, might even start softening up if the MC is more of a gentle/shy type.

[sotwk]

Hello, you wonderful, thoughtful, sneaky busybody! I’ve read the letter that you snuck into my room—in fact I may have read and reread it until my eyes went crossed. I can hardly believe you took such risks for me, spying on Lord Eomer and taking his private writing—but I’m certainly glad you did.

Grateful as I am, I have another favor to ask of you—though I know you’ll accept gladly, given your love for meddling in other people’s business. I have a letter for Lord Eomer—oh, Bema help me, I knew you’d be insufferably smug about it. Yes, you were right—you’ve been right all along! Are you happy now? 

I know what you’ll ask next, and yes. If you must, you can take a peek—I suppose I owe you that much, since you were the one who brought me his letter in the first place. Just make sure he gets this, won’t you? I won’t be able to rest until he does.

.

.

.

Lord Eomer,

Last night, my friend gave me a curious gift: a letter, crumpled, torn, and painstakingly pieced back together. A letter written and nearly destroyed by your own hand. I do hope you can forgive her actions—for my part, I have never been more grateful for her meddling.

I was determined Forgive my penmanship. My hands have not stopped shaking since I read your words.

I was determined to speak to you at once. I’d decided to sneak to the Golden Hall and throw pebbles at your window until you awoke. Would you believe that I’d donned my cloak and had a foot out the door, with no thought that midnight had long since passed, when my mother caught me and herded me to bed like an errant foal? Trapped in my room as I was, I resolved to write to you instead.

I slept not at all. 

For months, I have endured the attention of the suitors my parents paraded before me. Foolish man, had you made known even a word of that letter to me, I would have sent them all away without a second thought!

I am—I was resigned to do my duty to my family. But you cannot think I wanted to marry one of those men! If ever I smiled at them, I was thinking of you. If ever I looked attentively at them, I was studying their faces seeking some trace of you. 

I underst  Bema, my quill grows unsteady again. You cannot know what your words have done to me.

I understand your reservations, truly. But I am of a mind with your cousin, that our duties need not rule us entirely. Nor must they be the enemy of our hearts.

Do you recall the midsummer feast last year, when you asked me to dance? We spoke afterwards in the garden below the north balcony. I don’t recall a word of our conversation, for you had kissed the back of my hand when our dance was done and I could think of nothing else. You must have known how your touch would haunt me, how I would drive myself mad with thoughts of how your lips might — 

Bema, I am not myself this morning! But there, you see? I do not cross out words in regret, not when I mean them. 

I will be waiting in that garden tonight, at sundown. If you have the courage to stand by the words you tried so desperately to destroy—if, Bema help me, you are as seized by your passions as you claim—you will meet me there. I make no demands of you. Only that you speak the truth to me, without reservation, as I am doing now. 

Enough of prudence, enough of patience! What good have those miserable words ever done us?

I don't know if you will receive this letter in time (don't know how legible it will be, I have never scrawled so fast in my life), but even with the hour being late, I HAD to write and reassure you that:

I survived reading it, though it got hairy there for a second, my poor heart was not ready.

I delivered the letter.

I did more spy-work and lingered in the halls all morning until I was sure Eomer had returned to his rooms and found it.

I got caught. No, no, not by him, thank Bema. By the other one.

No worries, I handled it. He went all high and mighty, telling me I "should not meddle so much", but he didn't rat me out right there. He went into Eomer's room and chatted with him for a good while. Alas, door was too thick for me to hear a peep. Why are these doors so damn heavy.

I managed to corner him later on, but he wouldn't confirm anything other than that Eomer read your words. I then rushed off to get this note to you, but I'm gonna run back to talk Theodred's ear off until he spills everything. I don't care if he is the Prince. I know for a fact that he meddles as much as I do if not more, that sweet hypocrite.

Please just show up in the garden as you said you would and this would all be worth it I'm sure. I'll meet you on the other side, girl! GO GO GO!!!

Tagging parties who are probably interested in this crazy drama: @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras @morethantheycansay @emmanuellececchi @celeluwhenfics

For the other confused readers:

The "Anon" who wrote the gorgeous letter in response to my own "Letter from Eomer" is actually the incredibly talented @scyllas-revenge. It started as a letter writing Ask Game, and is now blowing up into a co-written Eomer x unnamed OC fic.

I've posted my work of Eomer's letter as a ficlet on Ao3 called "A Salvaged Letter", but now I'm probably expanding that into a SMALL multi-part fic. We'll see. Now that I've pulled my beloved Theodred into it, it's hard to resist the urge to write more.

Oh, and the busybody gossipy friend will definitely be an OC self-insert of yours truly. Shamelessly, I'm doing that.

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

What You Need pt. 1 (Echo x reader x Hunter)

Summary: Echo and the boys return from a mission. You can't wait to get Echo alone.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. afab!reader and use of feminine-coded pet names and genitalia; shameless smut; PWP; FwB; Dom/sub dynamics; use of "sir" as a title; Echo uses entirely too many pet names for reader; aftercare; light choking; reader is unintentionally a brat but it doesn't last long; soft!Dom!Echo; exhibitionism and voyeurism; somnophilia; face-sitting; oral (F receiving); uhhh I think that's all of it. If I missed anything please let me know!

A/N: This is just filth, y'all. This chapter is Echo x reader; Hunter to star later.

Word Count: 6.1k

Part 2 | Part 3

Cid’s is unusually busy tonight. You vaguely remember her mentioning that a local holotactics battle royale would be happening soon; clearly, you forgot to mark your calendar. Busy, though, is good for you. With any luck, you’ll walk away from tonight with decent tips—Maker knows Cid doesn’t pay you enough. Adjusting the thin straps of your tank top, you wipe the back of your hand over your forehead, wicking away the sweat beading there.

You prop yourself against the back wall to take advantage of the brief lull in customers vying for your attention. Surveying the patrons gathered here, your eyes seek out the one face you’re hoping will be here tonight. Echo and his brothers have been gone on some mission or another for about a standard week now, and you can’t help the gnawing sense of anxiety at his extended absence. Not for the first time, you’re grateful your...arrangement with Echo didn’t proscribe attachments. You were friends before you were lovers, and your friendship comes first. 

But neither Echo nor his squad seem to be here tonight. Yet, you think, forcing the positivity that you don’t really believe. 

Yes, being busy tonight has been a good distraction from your worry. 

Speaking of, you catch a patron at the end of the bar waving their hand for your attention. With a sigh, you rearrange your face into a smile as you approach the man. 

“What can I do for you?” you ask, leaning your forearms against the bartop. You know this causes your cleavage to deepen, a fact not missed by the man on the other side of the bar, his tongue wetting his lips as his eyes stray from yours.

He’s not unattractive, you think, but this is more about getting a good tip than anything else. 

“Uh, yeah, could I—” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. Auburn hair sweeps over his forehead. “Two things, I guess. First, a thermal detonator, darlin’.”

“Comin’ right up,” you say, reaching almost by memory for a glass. The pet names stopped fazing you long ago. “What else can I get ya?” 

“Your comm frequency, maybe?” He gives you a lopsided grin, flashing slightly crooked teeth and dimples. Not unattractive at all. 

You’re grateful that you have to turn away to reach for the detonator bottle, because the eye roll that overtakes your features would have been impossible to mask. He certainly isn’t the first, and you’re sure he won’t be the last, to try to get your contact info, but tonight, with your friend—lover—whatever, missing, the request feels particularly grating. 

Affixing your smile back in place, you pour the drink and slide the glass across the counter.

“I’m flattered,” you lie, “but I’m...taken.”

As if summoned by your words, behind the man’s head you catch a glimpse of familiar painted armor as the boys, Omega in tow, step inside. Your gaze locks with Echo’s for just a moment, and your smile widens into something genuine, not just the mask you put on for customers. 

The man raises his drink to you. “Ah, well, whoever it is, they’re lucky. Cheers.” With that, he slips between two bodies and disappears into the crowd. 

You don’t even reply with a pleasantry, your entire focus devoted to Echo. Your chest loosens, a tightness having taken up residence there without you even realizing. A tingling sense of relief pools into your heart. He’s alive. He’s okay. Even as you have the thought, warmth begins to rise in your belly. Your thighs squeeze together in reaction. 

Across the room, Echo jerks his head toward the back, and you nod in response. You know the drill by now. They return from a mission, they debrief with Cid, and then they socialize. 

A roar erupts from the crowd gathered around the holotactics boards, and you grimace at the noise. For a moment, a flicker of concern sparks in you over Hunter and his heightened senses—but you’re pulled away from your internal musings once more by a Twi woman flagging you down. 

Their meeting with Cid doesn’t last very long at all, and before you know it, you’re pouring four drinks on muscle memory alone as Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, and Echo approach the bar. A few of the locals see them coming and vacate barstools, ducking their heads with tense smiles as they move out of the squad’s way. By the time all four of them settle into the stools, you place the last drink, Echo’s fizzbrew, on the counter. 

“Glad you made it safe,” you say. You mean to direct it to all of them, but your eyes are locked once more on Echo. Every time he leaves and returns, you feel like you have to re-memorize his features, the sharp cut of his cheekbones and jaw, the way his nose scrunches when he laughs, the softness of his eyes. 

His lips quirk up into a grin over the rim of his drink. “Was there ever any doubt?” 

“Some,” Hunter says. At your alarmed expression, he waves a placating hand. “Nothing we couldn’t handle. Fighting organics isn’t like fighting droids.” 

Fixing Hunter with a hard stare for a moment, you try to silently communicate how unimpressed you are by his nonchalance in the face of danger. Yet, as his steady gaze meets yours, eyes sparkling with mischief and something else, something you can’t name, you have to will away the flush that creeps up into your cheeks. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve never stopped being attracted to Hunter. Echo just...got to you first. 

Shaking your head to clear it, you quickly survey Wrecker and Tech. None of the four of them show any signs of injuries, which helps you breathe easier. Tech, as always, has his nose inches from his datapad, typing away. Wrecker has already lost interest in the conversation and peers over the heads of the crowd to see what’s going on at the game tables, where you imagine Omega is, as well. 

Bringing you back to Echo. His warm amber eyes glint in the neon lights. Your eyes follow the bob in his throat as he sips at his drink, heat burning brighter in your belly. You can nearly taste the skin of his neck under your tongue. With a glance down at your chrono, you groan. Still a few more hours until closing. 

“We’ll be here, cyare,” Echo says, his low voice cutting easily through the noise. “Don’t neglect your other customers.” 

Without really thinking about it, just riding the cushion of relief and desire that surrounds you, you flash him a grin as you turn away. “Yes, sir.” 

He chokes, spluttering. Without looking up, Tech whacks him on the back until the coughing subsides. Your concern for his health melts away as soon as he pins you in place with a heated glare, his nostrils flaring as he heaves a breath. Oh, you’re in for it later. 

The rest of your shift passes in mostly a lustful haze. You’re painfully aware of Echo’s eyes on you the entire time. When Tech and Wrecker bid you goodnight and head back to their ship, Hunter scoots over a few barstools to sit next to Echo so they can discuss...whatever. You catch snippets of mission plans when you circle back to refill their drinks. Most of their words float in one ear and out the other. Neither of them take their eyes off of you. 

For your part, you let your customer service persona take the wheel. Pouring drinks, engaging in friendly chatter, ringing up tabs, all of it happens on autopilot. The rest of your brain is otherwise engaged with thoughts of Echo. 

Your arrangement with the grumpy trooper began mostly out of mutual sexual frustration. You’ve been bartending at Cid’s for at least as long as the squad has worked for her, and Maker, if you’d found them attractive just based on looks, you had had no idea how much more alluring they’d all be once you got to know them. Hunter and Echo especially caught your eye. And it had been Echo to do something about it. He’d followed you through the back hallways toward the staff lounge one night, after weeks of making eyes at each other. You hadn’t spoken that night, at least not about anything of substance besides to confirm your willing and eager consent. 

Face warming at the memory of that first encounter, of Echo’s tall frame trapping you between the wall and his chest as he reached around to get you off, you flinch when your name is called.

“Hello-o-o-o, earth to (y/n)!” Cid’s voice cuts through the pleasurable memory. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. “What’s going on?” 

Cid shakes her head and tuts. “I said, you’re off the clock. Get outta here.” 

You blink at her, then actually look around. It seems in your distraction, you completely zoned out as you closed out tabs. Most of the night’s customers have gone, leaving only a handful of regulars, including Hunter and Echo. 

“Right, yeah, course,” you say, trying to regain composure. 

Cid ambles away, muttering under her breath what you’re sure are not flattering comments. You untie your server’s apron and tuck it under the bar. When you straighten up, you’re unsurprised to find both Hunter and Echo lingering, lazy, tired grins on both their faces. 

“Feelin’ alright, (y/n)?” Hunter asks, concern lacing his voice. 

You narrow your eyes at him, unsure if he’s being genuine right now or if he’s messing with you. You’re well aware of the capabilities of his enhanced senses. As it is, you should be more embarrassed by the notion that he can sense the electricity skittering over your skin, probably even smell the arousal slicking your panties, but you can’t find it in you to care right now. 

“I’m fine,” you finally answer. “Long shift. I’m gonna go home and sleep.” 

“I’ll walk you home,” Echo offers immediately, like he always does. 

You nod with a small smile. “Thanks, Echo.” 

Hunter shakes his head and pushes away from the bar. “Get home safe. Echo, I expect you back in time tomorrow.” 

“When am I ever late?” Echo says, a grin on his face. 

Hunter just raises his eyes to the heavens, hands on his hips, and he looks like such a dad in that moment that you laugh out loud. 

“I’ll make sure he gets back safe and sound, Hunt,” you say. You lead the way out, knowing that they’ll both follow. 

At the top of the steps, Hunter turns right, giving a wave over his shoulder, while you and Echo turn left. When you come to a fork in the road, you spare a glance back over your shoulder—a jolt of surprise heats your core when you find Hunter lingering at the other end of the street, his gaze clearly on you. You gulp. Has he always watched you walk away with his brother? Is he even watching you, or is he concerned about Echo? A frown tugs at your lips. 

“Cyare?” Echo’s low, gravelly voice brings you back to him. 

You blink and give him a fleeting smile. “Hm?” 

“C’mon,” he says, “it’s late.” He tucks you under his arm. Butterflies explode to life in your stomach, his body heat absolutely searing into your psyche, the heavy scent of sweat and carbon residue and liquor making you dizzy. 

You don’t live far from Cid’s, which is both a blessing and a curse. A curse because you never have an excuse to be late for your shift; a blessing because, on nights like tonight, you’ll be in the privacy of your apartment that much sooner. 

The rest of the walk is silent. Pressed against his side like this, your lust-addled brain runs free, conjuring memories of his body overtop of yours, how his skin glistens with sweat, how his breath sounds in your ear as he fucks into you. By the time that you both step into the repulsorlift that will take you to your floor, your chest heaves with barely contained lust. 

“Who was that guy, earlier?” Echo asks suddenly. 

Any thoughts of sex flee your mind. You frown, brows knitting together. “Huh?” 

“At the bar,” he says. “The one you were talking to when we came in.” 

It takes you a moment to remember which man he’s referring to. You shrug. “Not sure. Asked for my comm, but backed off when I said I was taken.” 

Echo hums. The lift chimes as it rumbles to a halt at your floor, and Echo holds his scomp in front of the doors so you can step out. You lead the way. He’s quiet the rest of the way down the hallway to your door, but now that he’s asked, you can’t ignore the wriggling worm of confusion and doubt chewing through the desire thrumming through you. 

“What is it?” you ask, keys halfway to the lock. 

“What is what?” he asks, blinking down at you. 

You sigh. “Listen, I know we really haven’t talked about whether this is exclusive or not, but—” 

Echo cuts you off by pressing one finger to your lips. “Why did you tell him you were taken?”

Swallowing, you resist the urge to slip his finger into your mouth, at least for the moment. This is a serious conversation—probably the most serious one you’ve had with Echo since this whole situationship began. 

“Didn’t want the attention,” you say with a shrug, voice muffled by his finger. 

“That’s all?” 

“What else do you want to hear?” 

He studies you for a moment, his amber eyes poring over your features, searching for something, but for what, you’re not sure. Did he take issue with you using him as an excuse? Or did he want to know if you said you were taken because you want to be taken? 

Finally, he lowers his hand. “C’mon. Inside.” 

His voice has dipped into the usual low growl that he reserves for you. All the confusion you’re feeling immediately dissipates, and suddenly you can’t get the door open fast enough. As soon as you’re both through the doorway, Echo slams it behind him and pushes you up against the entranceway wall. His scomp is cold on your skin where it rests across your breastbone. The dark heat in his eyes makes your stomach flutter. 

“Echo,” you breathe. 

He arches one eyebrow. “Oh, so now I’m just ‘Echo,’ hm?” 

You suppress a grin, recalling your accidental use of his title earlier. “Sorry, Mister Echo. That better?” 

With a groan, he leans down to press a feverish kiss to your lips. You gasp, and he takes that as an invitation to deepen the kiss. His tongue is hot and wet and messy against yours, a satisfied growl vibrating into your mouth. Your knees threaten to give out. Like he knows that, he slots one leg between your thighs, supporting your weight.

When he pulls away, your chest heaves with exertion. 

“Didn’t think just a week would make you forget your manners, cyar’ika,” he says, voice dangerously low. He nudges your face to the side and presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, your ear, your cheek. “Want to try that one more time?” 

You whimper. “Yes, sir, sorry, sir.” 

He chuckles, hand coming up to cradle the front of your neck gently. Not applying pressure, just making you aware of its presence. “That’s better. Remember your safeword?” 

You nod. “Meiloorun. And yours is Kamino.”

“Very good.” He kisses you again, his mouth insistent against yours, demanding that you submit and let him take control from here. You gladly do, moaning as your insides turn to putty. Your panties are absolutely soaked by now, you know, probably seeping through your clothes onto his leg. Echo hums in satisfaction as the last of the tension drains from your body, leaving you pliant and soft. 

“Kriff, cyare, you’re so sweet for me,” he mumbles against your lips. 

“Always for you, sir,” you say. 

With one final peck on your lips, he stands to his full height and removes his arms from your body. It’s only because of his thigh that you remain upright, the wall acting as a secondary support. Peering up at him through your lashes, your breath catches in your throat. He’s backlit, the soft yellow glow coming from your bedroom haloing around his head. His eyes are twin pinpricks of light, his lips parted and pink, a flush high on his cheeks. You take a moment to just bask in his presence. His broad shoulders. His strong arms, so good at keeping you safe. His prosthetics, the parts of him he still struggles with, but the ones that you adore because it means he’s alive. 

His soft whisper of your name has you blinking up at him. “You still with me?” 

You nod. “Just admiring the view.” 

You should have used his honorific and both of you know it, but he ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck in a bashful kind of way. It’s cute. 

“Bedroom. Clothes off. Get yourself comfortable, okay, cyare?” he asks. 

“Yes, sir.” Taking a tentative step forward, your shaky knees hold firm. You hurry to your bedroom, shucking your clothing as you go. As expected, the crotch of your panties is dark with slick, and you whimper at the sight. But you can’t focus on that. You’re supposed to get comfy, and you intend on doing exactly that. 

You fluff a few of your pillows and recline back against them, knees bent and legs falling open, baring your soaked folds to the cool air. In the floor-length mirror across the room, you watch the way your chest rises and falls with every breath, the excited light in your eyes, the glisten of slick between your thighs. Kriff, you hope he’s not in a teasing mood tonight. 

Echo joins you a few moments later. His armor is gone, stacked, you know, by your front door out of the way. He has two glasses of water tucked in the crook of his arm. You both realized early on how dehydrated these sessions made you, so this has become the routine. You get yourself ready for the session, and he gets ready for the aftercare. It’s a simple gesture, but not one anyone else has ever extended to you before. Your heart swells at the reminder of his kindness. 

Maybe you do want to be taken. To be his.

A flash of gray eyes in your mind’s eye distracts you, nearly pulling you out of the dazed, aroused haze you’re in.

But then Echo climbs onto the bed, and you’re wrenched away from all thought as he kneels at your feet. He always looks so much more relaxed here, with you. The worry lines disappear from his forehead and his usually grumpy countenance softens into something like adoration. For a moment, the two of you just admire each other, smiling. 

“Comfy, baby?” he asks. 

You nod. “Very.”

“Good.” His fingertips skim the soft skin of your inner thigh, trailing goosebumps in their wake, and you sigh. You shift your hips to let your legs widen, silently urging him to touch you where you need it most. 

His touch remains featherlight as he crawls up over your body, his hand brushing your side, your chest, and returning to its place at the hollow of your throat. With a breathy moan, you arch your back, presenting your breasts to him.

“So needy,” he chuckles. “Use your words, darling.” 

“Please, sir,” you say, voice whiny even to your own ears. “Please touch me.” 

The grin that curls his lips up is wicked. “I already am, baby.” As if to make his point, he curves his fingers around your throat—still not putting any pressure, but his light touch is enough to send another wave of desire pulsing to your already aching and neglected pussy. 

Groaning, you slump back against the bed. “You know that’s not what I meant.” 

“Should be more specific then, cyare.” 

Chewing your lip, you suppress another moan. “Please, sir, please touch my tits. Play with my pussy. I want you. I need you, sir.” 

His low groan lights your nerves on fire. “Much better,” he rasps. Evidently, he must feel he’s teased you enough (at least, for now), because he dips his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss. His hand palms at one breast, rolling the nipple between his dexterous fingers. Nudging your nose, he licks at your bottom lip, and swallows your responding moan. You gladly tilt your head and meet his tongue once again. Saliva drools down your chin, but you don’t care, not so long as he keeps touching you. His touch is fire and ice and electricity and you want to cry because it’s too much and not enough all at once. 

You gasp when he pinches your nipple, back arching. He trails wet kisses down your jaw to your neck, locating with ease that one spot that makes your toes curl. Switching to your other breast, he repeats the same attention there as his teeth sink into your skin. The moan that escapes you is high and heady, and so, so needy. 

“Good girl,” he praises. “Make such pretty noises for me.” 

“Yes, sir,” you pant. 

He trails down your body, placing searing kisses to your sensitive skin. You watch through hooded eyes as he moves lower. Excitement tightens in your belly as he draws closer to where you need him most, your breathing coming sharper. 

“Would you prefer my fingers or my tongue, darling?” he asks. His dark eyes flutter at you he laves at your hip, his hand kneading your thigh. 

It takes a moment for the question to register in your pleasure-overloaded brain. When it does, you prop yourself up on your elbows, eyes widening. “Y-Your mouth, please, sir.” 

He hums. You whine when he withdraws, distress and confusion clouding your face, but he shushes you with a kiss. 

“Sit on my face, cyare. Take your pleasure from me.” 

Oh fuck. Your pussy clenches around nothing. After he drops onto his back beside you, you scramble to sit up, swing one knee over him, and hover above his face. 

“Sit,” he orders. Then he wraps his arms around your thighs, the cold of his scomp making you shiver, and tugs you down onto his mouth. 

“O-Oh.” You throw your head back. His mouth is so kriffing warm and his tongue feels so good as he licks a stripe up your pussy. For a moment you forget how to breathe; he slurps at your dripping folds, a deep growl vibrating up his throat into your core.

He works you over with his mouth, ignoring your clit, much to your mounting distress. Even as the coil in your stomach begins to wind ever tighter, you need the extra stimulation.

“Please,” you groan, hips bucking, seeking friction. “Fuck, sir, please.” 

He hums against you, his eyes crinkling with mischief as you gaze down at him, lips parted, panting.

A whine ripping from your throat, you rest one hand on his chest and roll your hips again. “Please? Please, sir, I want to cum for you.” 

This time, he makes no noise, but instead tilts his chin just enough that his tongue, flat and hot and wet, presses against your aching clit. Your entire body locks up, white-hot pleasure snapping tight in your belly, shoving you to the edge of your orgasm. His hand rests on your hip, tugging you forward and pushing you back. 

“Oh stars,” you gasp.

Pleasure coursing through you like molten gold, you rut against his face. He holds still, letting you take what you need from him at last, as promised. Every movement makes your breath hitch. All attempts to be quiet fly out the window, your neighbors be damned, as you chase your high against his lips. 

The tightness in your belly pulls taut. Your toes curl, your moans becoming breathy as you roll your hips desperately. Your release is right there; you’re so close you can nearly taste it. 

“I’m- kriff, Ec- sir, I’m gonna c-cum,” you pant. 

His fingers dig into your thigh as he pulls you impossibly closer. You look down, remembering at the last second that he likes to watch your face as you cum, and when your eyes meet his, pupils blown and face glistening with your slick, you cry out. The coil in you snaps. With a scream, you cum, body arching forward as you spasm. Your cunt flutters against Echo’s mouth. His long, deep groan vibrates up into your very being, and you gasp. 

“F-Fuuuuuck,” you moan, chest heaving, as he finally releases you. You fall to your side next to him, boneless. 

“Did so good for me, cyare,” Echo says, turning onto his side to cup your face. 

You gaze at him through heavy eyelids, residual pleasure making your body twitch. “Thank you, sir.” 

His kiss is sweet, nearly tender, and it immediately stokes the flames of your arousal all over again. The tang of yourself on his lips isn’t your favorite, but tonight, you moan, licking at his lips to catch another taste. 

You chase his mouth when he pulls away, but your body, spent as it is, gives out and you slump into the comforter again. Chuckling, Echo presses a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“Wanna make you feel good,” you mumble. “Want you in- in my mouth.” 

His grip at the back of your neck tightens. “Kriff, baby, I know you do. But I can’t wait. Can I fuck you? Can your sir put his dick in that soaked pussy, hm?” 

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, sir, please, stars.” 

“Roll over for me, cyare, onto your front.” He helps you shift. His knees cage you in where he kneels, resting against your thighs. Laying there as you slowly recover from the mind-bending orgasm, you wiggle your ass in anticipation.

Smack! 

You gasp, the sting of the pain soothing into something duller as Echo smooths his hand over the impact. 

“Patience,” he chides. 

The telltale sound of his pants unzipping reaches your ears. Without needing to be told, you reach back to spread your cheeks apart, granting him easier access to your entrance from this angle. He spits, then rubs the lubrication over his cock. Your body flushes at the sound. 

When the tip of his cock pokes at your entrance, you sigh. Arching your hips up, you jiggle your ass with your fingers to entice him. 

Another smack! rings through the room, another surprised yelp escaping you. 

Followed by twin moans as Echo pushes into you all the way in one fluid movement, sheathing himself to the hilt in your tight heat. He groans, sounding strangled, when your pussy flexes around him. 

“Not gonna last long,” he warns, voice strained. 

“S’okay,” you mumble. “Please.” 

He needs no further encouragement. Leaning forward to press his body against yours, the texture of his clothes scrapes at your skin pleasurably. The knowledge that you’re fully naked and he remains fully clothed makes your cunt clench again. Bracing himself on his scomp arm, Echo’s other hand reaches beneath your chest to find purchase one final time at your neck. This time he does put pressure, his thumb and middle finger squeezing your veins, restricting blood circulation. When he slams his hips back into you, you moan brokenly, mind already hazy with lust and oxygen deprivation. 

He sets a languid pace, drawing his cock out of you nearly all the way before shoving it back in. The tip rakes across the shattered piece of heaven deep in your core, pulling the coil in your belly tight once again. 

“Need you to cum again, sweet thing,” Echo grunts, voice breaking. “Need you to cum on my cock.” 

You nod. Kriff, if he keeps fucking you like this, you’ll cum as much as he wants. 

He releases the grip at your throat, and the resulting rush of blood back to your brain makes you gasp, senses heightened. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, sir, don’t stop,” you pant out. “Please, wanna cum again. Want to cum for you. Want to be good for you, please, please pleasepleaseplease—” 

Echo groans deep in his chest, his hips stuttering for a moment. “Kriff, baby, you’re always good for me. Cum on this cock, darling.” 

He punctuates the request with a particularly hard thrust, and that’s all it takes. Body going rigid, your mouth opens but no sound comes out. Eyes rolling back, you quiver beneath him, pussy clenching so hard that he lets out a broken moan. His forehead presses between your shoulder blades. His cock pulses deep in your cunt as he spills his seed, babbling the entire time about how good you are, how much he loves your pussy, how much he loves finishing in you. 

When both of your breathing evens out, you weakly push your ass up against him. “Echo?” 

He hums. “Are you okay, cyare? Did I hurt you?” 

“No,” you say. “You were perfect. But can you get off me? This is hurting my back.” 

“Oh!” He’s immediately gone, his body vanished. You shiver in the sudden chill, but manage to roll yourself onto your back to stare at your ceiling. 

“C’mon, cyar’ika, sit up, you need water,” Echo gently urges. 

With a soft groan, you sit up, still feeling boneless and, apparently, muscle-less. Sitting on the bed next to you, Echo helps you hold the glass of water; he lowers it every few sips so that you don’t flood your body, but all you want is to chug, the gratifying liquid soothing your dry throat. 

When the first glass is empty, you shake your head at his offer of the second one. Scooching back up the back to lean against the pillows, you open your arms and make grabby hands. 

“Cuddle with me?” you ask. 

He smiles, the one that sets butterflies beating in your stomach. “Of curse, cyar’ika. Let me get these clothes off.” 

As soon as he’s stripped, he settles in beside you, tucking you against his side. His thumb rubs aimless circles on your hip; the strong, steady beat of his heart under your ear serves to relax you. You match your breathing to his, a technique you picked up early on that helps you feel closer to him, even as you continue this arrangement strictly as friends. 

The thought drifts to you again of the stilted conversation you had outside your front door.

“Echo?” you say. 

He shifts as he looks down at you. “Yes, darling?” 

“I—” You shake your head, nuzzling deeper against his skin. “Never mind. Thank you for tonight.” 

“You don’t have to thank me for sex,” he says, smile in his voice. “How many times do I have to tell you?” 

“At least one more time,” you muse. That earns you a deep chuckle. 

He presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. “Sleep, cyar’ika. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

“Promise?” 

He hums in thought. “Well, I will be if you’re up before mid-morning. Otherwise Hunter will have both our hides.” 

You laugh, face warming at the thought of Hunter. Your relationship with Echo isn’t necessarily a secret; you’re pretty sure all the other men know, or at least suspect. But with Hunter, you know with certainty that he knows exactly what you and Echo get up to when he ‘walks you home.’

“Can’t have him taking your great skin,” you murmur. 

He grunts. “Not so sure I’d call it great.”

Raising your head, you meet his eyes, returned to their normal warm amber. You frown, not saying anything. 

“Right, sorry,” he says with a pained smile that’s more of a grimace. “No negative self-talk. Apologies, cyare.” 

“S’alright,” you say. “Your skin’s been through a lot, but it’s gotten you this far.” 

“I know, I know,” he says. He leans down and presses his forehead against yours, his eyes sliding shut. “You’re too good to me.” 

“You deserve good things,” you say. You intend to kiss him, but a yawn interrupts your movement, and Echo chuckles. 

“Go to sleep,” he says. He tucks your head back down against his chest. 

You find you can’t argue, your eyes sliding shut as soon as his heartbeat resumes its steady cadence against your ear, your body heavy from your exertions. 

When you wake, you’re on the verge of orgasm. Body overly warm, sweat pooling in all of your bends and curves, your eyes flutter open and you peer down at Echo’s face buried between your thighs. A moan spills from you, surprised and embarrassed and so fucking turned on.

He pulls away from you with a lewd, wet pop, eyes sparkling. “Quiet, cyare. Hunter’s at the front door.”

“Wh-What?” You try to sit up, but Echo returns to your pussy, tongue caressing your soft, slick folds, and you slump back into your pillow. 

Slinging one arm across your eyes, you cradle the back of his head with your other hand. “Stars, I’m so- I’m so fucking close.”

He slides one slim finger into your tight heat and crooks it up against your inner walls in just the right spot. Colorless stars explode behind your closed eyes as your pussy flutters around his digit, breathy, half-coherent moans tumbling from your lips. Kriff, the thought of Hunter standing outside your apartment, probably able to hear you fall to pieces for his brother, smell your cunt, nearly makes you cum a second time. 

When everything becomes too much, you push against Echo’s shoulder weakly with a pathetic whimper. 

He grins up at you, his lips shiny and so fucking pink, his entire lower face wet. Flushing, you bite your lip, glancing away. 

“Good morning to you, too,” you mumble. 

With a laugh, he gently closes your legs and pulls you up into a sitting position with him. He wipes his face dry before pressing a sweet, chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“Good morning, cyar’ika.” He inhales, holding you tighter. “I have to go.” 

Tears prick at your eyes. Blinking them away, you nod against his chest. “I know. When do you think—” You cut yourself off. You’ve never asked how long he’ll be gone for before. He’s your friend, one with whom you happen to sleep; you’re not entitled to him all the time. 

As if he can sense the conflict in you, he rubs your arm. “I’m...not sure. You know how it is.” 

“Yeah.” You take a long, deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, and then let it out. His eyes are deep and full of concern when you lean back to look at him. For a few moments, you enjoy sitting in silence with him, eyes never leaving his, trying to convey how much you care about him without words. He seems to understand. Gently, slowly, like he’s afraid you’re going to move away, he brushes his knuckles across your cheek. 

“I—” 

Beep-beep-beep. 

Brow furrowing, his eyes slide shut, nostrils flaring in agitation. You press your lips into a line, allowing yourself as much time as he takes for himself to be annoyed. 

“You gotta go,” you say, quiet. “Don’t want to keep Hunter waiting.” 

The look he gives you is inscrutable. You think you see a flash of pain, a twitch of concern, but it’s gone in a blink. Then he sighs with a nod, and presses his forehead against yours. 

“I’ll see you when—” He bites his lip, struggling for words. “When I get back.” 

“Good.” You close the distance and kiss him. All too soon, he pulls away. You hadn’t realized he’s already dressed, his armor half-on. The cool air chills your skin as soon as he’s gone, goosebumps prickling to life as a shiver dances up your spine. 

Tugging the sheet over your shoulders, you can only watch as Echo steps out of your room, puts the rest of his armor on by the front door, and gives you one last smile. You blow him a kiss; he pretends to catch it and put it in his pocket. Soft warmth blooms in your chest, softer than you’ve ever felt before. 

When he opens the door, you catch a glimpse of Hunter with his fist raised as if to knock, and you flinch. Gray eyes pierce into yours for the space of a heartbeat—then you’re scrambling back out of his line of sight, face burning in embarrassment. Their conversation cuts out as the front door closes behind Echo.

Tags: (tagging everyone who positively interacted with the sneak peek of this fic! I hope that's okay! <3) @the-hexfiles @madameminor @littlemissmanga @iwannalickyoutoomuchbaby @wings-and-beskar

[sunflowergirl522]

The Other Wheeler 3

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Wheeler!Reader

Word Count: 4722

Series Masterlist

Sunday is your day off and also conveniently Waynes day off too. You had offered time and time again to Eddie the night before when he told you that you could find somewhere to go so that they can hangout without you in the way but he insisted you didn’t have to leave. You even asked Wayne himself when he got home, since you and Eddie had still been up, if he wanted you to leave so you wouldn’t be intruding on whatever time they normally have together. He had insisted you wouldn’t be intruding and that it would be nice to get to know his nephew's new friend.

So you woke up early this morning, ignoring Eddie’s complaints for you to just go back to sleep and dodging his body seeking arm, to head to the store to pick up stuff for breakfast, making sure to go out the porch door so as not to wake Wayne. You grabbed what seemed to be enough eggs, bacon, sausage, and bread to feed a small army before heading to checkout. The only thought going through your head being the want, the need, to show these two men how grateful you are for them allowing and accepting you into their space.

When you come back in through the porch door Eddie’s stretching and coming out of the bathroom. He jumps a bit at your entrance but is quick to take the bags out of your hands.

“What’s all this Princess?” His voice is full of sleep and it’s quite possibly one of the most attractive things you’ve ever heard.

“I’m gonna make you guys breakfast as a thank you.” You follow him into the kitchen looking into the living room area to see if Wayne is still asleep. “Should I wait until he wakes up?” 

“Nah, Wayne can pretty much sleep through anything. I mean he’s used to living with me so you don’t even have to whisper.”

“Okay. Where do you keep your pans and spatulas and stuff?”

“Spatulas are in the holder in the corner there.” He points over his shoulder at the corner next to the fridge while bending down to open the bottom cabinets. “I’ll get a pan or two.”

“Do you have like a long skillet or something for the meat?”

“Yep coming right up Princess. If you need a bowl to whisk the eggs they’re in the cupboard to the left of the sink.”

You reach up to grab one after getting both a whisk and a spatula. When you turn to face Eddie again he’s setting up the skillet and the pan for the eggs on the stove top built into the counter. You step around him to start unpacking the bags at the counter looking into the living room.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he grabs a pack of sausage from in front of you.

“Helping, you didn’t think I’d let you do all the work yourself did you?”

“Well yeah, I’m the one making the thank you breakfast, not you.”

“Fine I’ll just stand here and watch I guess.” He puts his hands up in surrender backing away from where he was dumping the sausage onto the skillet.

“Thank you.” You turn away from him to focus on the eggs waiting to be cracked and Eddie sneaks back into his previous position once you’re not paying attention to him anymore. “Now how do you like your eggs?”

When Wayne does wake up only about fifteen minutes after you start making breakfast it’s to the laughter coming from the kitchen. When he opens his eyes a smile forms on his face at the sight in front of him. Eddie’s standing at the stove, you next to him the two of you laughing as you try to push him away. Eddie’s smile reaches his eyes as he says something that Waynes still waking up ears don’t catch. He hasn’t seen his nephew this happy in a long time, even his music hasn’t been getting him quite this happy for the last month or so. He’s been in a bit of a rut and by the looks of it he’s starting to come out of it thanks to you.

“Seriously, Angel eyes cut it out!” You laugh while trying to push him away again.

“I'm not doing anything, what are you talking about?” Wayne stands and he can see Eddie rolling sausage and flipping bacon while staying rooted in place.

“What’s all this now?” You jump and let out a shocked gasp as Wayne speaks up.

“Y/n’s making us breakfast.”

“I’m trying to at least.” You shoot a look at Eddie before looking back over at his uncle. “We didn’t wake you up did we?”

“Nah I could sleep through a tornado and not wake up till I was in Oz. What’re you making?”

“Eggs, toast, and since I wasn’t sure what you guys liked more sausage and bacon. Eddie said you like your eggs scrambled so I just made a whole bunch but if you want I could make any other kind or even like an omelet or something.”

“Scrambled is perfect.”

“Perfect!” A smile forms on your face to match Waynes before realizing that Eddie’s moving the eggs around in the pan and jumping into action to stop him. “Eddie! I’m serious stop that.” You take the spatula from his hand and hip check him out of the way so you can take over.

Eddie lets you shove him out of the way this time so he can get the toast that just popped up out of the toaster. It’s the one job you’ve let him have cooking, mainly because you didn’t notice it until the first two pieces popped up and let it go because it kept him away from the meat. Really you appreciate him trying and wanting to help instead of just wanting to do it all himself almost as much as he appreciates you wanting to make both him and Wayne food. If you were home trying to make breakfast your mom would probably be shooing you out of the kitchen so she can take over so you’re happy to be welcome in his. 

“Wayne, do you want sausage or bacon?” You ask him while grabbing one of the plates that Eddie got down for you. He’s quick to make his way into the kitchen to take it out of your hands.

“Don’t worry about that hun. You went through all the work of making this for us, we can serve ourselves.”

“Okay.” You back away moving to gently steer Eddie to stand next to his uncle to get food next. He grabs a plate forcing it in your hand and moves you in front of him, his hands gentle on your shoulders. Eddie shakes his head as you open your mouth to argue.

“You go first Princess, I have to get the show ready anyway.” With that he backs away and opens up the doors on their small tv stand to search for the right season.

“Eddie’s been watching The Waltons with me every Sunday since he got me the show.” It was a birthday gift to Wayne from Eddie because they watched it a lot when he was growing up. The minute he saw a bundle of every season for sale at Starcourt, before it went up in flames, he didn’t think twice before taking it up to the counter.

“That’s nice.”

As you sit on the couch watching The Waltons with Eddie and Wayne listening to the two of them talk to each other you can’t help but become nostalgic for when you, Nancy, and Mike would watch cartoons together. The three of you would pile on the floor in front of the tv instead of on the couches so you were as close as possible. The three of you had your favorites Nancy's being Scooby Doo Mike’s being Tom and Jerry and yours being The Muppet Show but you all enjoyed them and being around each other.

Later on, a little after lunch which had consisted of Wayne making sandwiches, there’s a knock on the door of the trailer. Wayne gets up to answer it, figuring it'll just be one of the kids Eddie’s friends with. But Eddie has a moment of confusion wondering who it could be because all his friends know that Sundays are his and Wayne’s day.

“Is Y/n here by chance?” The sound of your mom's voice has you standing up and stepping towards the door. Wayne moves out of your way so you can take his place in the doorway going to sit next to Eddie.

“Hi mom.” You step out shutting the door behind you so your conversation doesn’t interrupt their show.

“It’s time to come home honey.”

“Is he ready to go back to being civil?”

“I can’t promise anything, your father is…difficult. But we’ve had many conversations about things he shouldn’t say or do and he seems to be ready to apologize.” You know that when she says conversations she means fights, you’ve witnessed enough ‘conversations’ growing up to know that.

“How’d you know where I was?”

“Mike told me.” You glance around her at the car and find Mike sitting in the passenger's seat. He waves at you when he notices you looking at him. “Now why don’t you go get your stuff and come home with us?”

One of the things you love the most about your mom is she’s never been one to force you to do anything. Every time she’s come to get you to come home she’s always left it up to you and in the end that’s one of the reasons you always give in and go with her. 

“Yeah, okay. But if he’s still being a dick I can’t promise I’ll stay.” 

You don’t say that you mean you’ll move out and you don’t have to say it. She knows. Mike had gotten home Friday night and called his dad an asshole on his way to storming up to his room. Karen had followed him up after sending Ted a look to leave it be to find him sitting on his bed digging the palms of his hands into his eyes. She recognized the position immediately, it was how Mike’s tried to stop himself from crying or breaking down for years now.  She shut the door behind her so no one would be able to listen in before sitting next to him and pulling him into a hug. It was then that he broke down over feeling like he doesn’t know you well anymore and brought up how you told him you’d move out now. That night they had their biggest fight in years.

“I understand. We’ll meet you back at the house, take your time saying bye.” She brings you into a tight hug before heading back to the car.

When you enter back into the trailer you send a smile Eddie’s and Wayne’s way before beelining towards Eddie’s room to get all your stuff together. It’s not long before he’s in the doorway watching you.

“I guess you’re going home?”

“Yeah, but we’ll see how long that actually lasts.” You roll your eyes as you zip the duffel up and standing. “She says he’s ready to be civil but as of Friday he still wasn’t ready to let me back in the house. I don’t really see him changing his mind so quickly.” You step past Eddie checking to make sure your toothbrush is in the side pouch as you speak. “Don’t worry though if I do have to leave again I’ll go bother Steve or Dustin so I’m not invading your space again for who knows how long.” Eddie opens his mouth to argue but Wayne beats him to it.

“You wouldn’t be invading our space kid. Whenever you need a place to stay you just come right over, you’ll always be welcome.” There’s something in the way he says it that has your eyes tearing up and you’re hugging him before you even realize you’re doing it. When you go to pull away ready to apologize for throwing yourself at him he holds you to him tighter in such a dad type of hug that you’re not used to you start to cry.

Eddie stands there shocked at Wayne hugging you. It’s not something his uncle does to just anyone and he doesn’t even really hug Eddie much anymore now that he’s an adult, an adult in high school but still an adult, and they’re both busy. The most he’s gotten recently have been quick side hugs.

“Sorry.” You murmur as you pull away, wiping your tears.

“It’s fine, no harm no foul. You don’t gotta apologize for your feelings.”

“Thank you, both of you, for everything.”

“You don’t have to thank us for something like this. But you’re welcome. Eddie, why don’t you walk your friend to her car.”

“Yeah, yeah alright.” He picks up your duffel that you dropped and grabs your hand as he passes by you. You wave back to Wayne as Eddie leads you out of the door. “You want the duffel in the back seat or the trunk?” You open the driver's door and unlock the rest of the car.

“Back seat is fine, thanks.” You stand in your open door while he tosses it in, not yet feeling ready to leave.

“Come here darlin’.” Eddie grabs your wrist and pulls you into a hug, you’re quick to wrap your arms around him feeling at home.

“What if I get home and I have to go straight out the door again Eddie?” You ask after a beat of silence in his arms. 

“Then you’ll come straight back here and we’ll figure out your next steps. Whether that be when we start looking for your own place or how you’ll be able to get to the point of being civil with each other again.” You’ve discussed with Eddie a bit this weekend about how if you and your dad keep being at each other's necks you’ll just move out early, you’ve saved up enough for it. He’s all for it if it gets you away from how you’ve said he treats you, he even offered you the side of his bed and space in his closet if you needed it. “Wayne and I will be there for you okay?”

“Okay.” You nod, still not unwrapping yourself from the warmth of his embrace. His arms tighten around you in sensing you need a good hug right now.

You stand there wrapped up in his arms while you feel the worry slowly leak out of you. Eddie seemed to have the effect of making all the bad feelings you have go away, it was extremely comforting and something you’re going to miss being around all the time the moment you get in your car and drive away. So you postpone letting go until the chill in the air seeps into your bones and you start to feel bad for keeping Eddie out in the nippy end of September air.

“Get back to Wayne and your show.” You speak as you move away from him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Call when you get home and let us know how it went.”

“I will. Thank Wayne again for me alright?” He nods and you get in your car waving as you drive off.

When you park in front of your house you sit in your car for a solid fifteen minutes preparing yourself for anything you could be walking into. Whether it be an apology, a silent nod in acknowledgement, or another fight you wanted to be ready for it so in the worst case scenario you didn’t let him see how much it affected you. You’re really hoping it’ll just be the second option or some form of it. You turn from grabbing your bag from the backseat just in time to see the curtain to the living room window fluttering shut. As you’re heading up the walkway the door flies open and Mike’s wrapping his arms around your shoulders in a bear hug. You freeze for a second before securing your arms around him and reveling in getting a hug from your brother in what feels like the first time in forever.

“Sorry I told mom where you were.”

“It’s fine, she was gonna find me eventually anyway. What’s he been like this weekend?” You speak into his chest wondering to yourself just when exactly he sprung up like a weed. 

“They’ve been fighting a lot, but today he’s been pretty quiet. I think she might’ve finally broken him down.” One thing you could always count on was your mom digging in and breaking him until he was forced to be compliant and civil with you.

“Does he know where I was?” You don’t care if he knows but you feel like if he knew you’d get a snide comment here and there considering his reaction to you just hanging out with Eddie.

“I don’t think so. I didn’t tell him but Nancy or mom could’ve.”

“Okay.” You take a deep breath in before backing out of Mike's hold. “How’s Holly?”

“She asked about you a few times.” You smile as you walk up to the door. 

You adore your six year old sister, the only sibling who seemed to want anything to do with you until recently when Mike started being interested again. When you are home you dedicate what time you can to forming a bond with her. Sundays being your only day off of work usually means you take her out to do something whether that be going to a park, the library, or sometimes, rarely, even the movies. You’ve been a little bummed about missing out on this Sunday but being around Eddie and Wayne was a great distraction from it. Maybe now that you’re back you’ll still be able to take her out for a little bit.

You walk in the door with Mike hearing your mom moving around in the kitchen. You pass your dad in the living room where he’s sitting in his chair and reading his newspaper side eyeing him ready for him to say something but he doesn’t even look up. It’s not the best case scenario but it’s close enough. 

“Hey mom.”

“I’m glad you’re home hun. I’m making your favorite for dinner to celebrate.” She pulls you into a side hug and you can’t help but smile.

“That sounds great. Where’s Holly? I was thinking I could take her to the park or something for a little since I’m home.”

“She wouldn’t stop crying and screaming about not going anywhere today so Nancy took her out.” Your smile falters a bit while you worry about her starting to want to spend time with Nancy instead of you now.

“Alright, I’m gonna go unpack. I'll be back down for dinner.” You place a kiss on your moms cheek before fixing the strap of your duffel and heading upstairs.

Once you’re in the safety of your room with the door shut you collapse onto your bed, bag left abandoned by the door. Your bed is so much comfier than Eddie’s but you find yourself missing the warmth that he provided. As you lay there debating whether to unpack or pick up the phone in your room and dial Eddie’s number to let him know you made it back okay you hear the front door open and Nancy’s voice stating that her and Holly were home drifts up the stairs and under the crack in your door. You’re quick to abandon both options and hurry to see your favorite little girl. 

“There’s my Hollipop!” She yells your name in excitement as she runs into your arms just as you crouch down.

“You’re back?” Nancy asks as she looks over at you.

“Yep! Until further notice so you won’t have to miss me anymore Nancy pants.” She throws her head back and groans before heading into the kitchen. You miss the smile on her face as you turn immediately back to Holly.

“Where’d you go?” Holly looks up at you with her big blue eyes and you can’t help but be glad that you’re back home because it’s not like you can see Holly at school the way you see Mike and Nancy.

“I just stayed with a friend for a little bit, Pumpkin.” The one thing you’ve always been glad your father did was he never really blew up on you in front of Holly. She was always normally out of the house or in bed already. The last thing you wanted was Holly having to be around the yelling because you know how much it sucks from your years of listening to your parents fighting. “Where’d you go today?”

“We went to the park.”

“Did you have fun?” She nods and you pick her up, settling her on your hip so you can take her into the dining room where you’re sure Nancy is helping your mom set the table. 

“But Nancy didn’t want to play with me.”

“She didn’t?”

“She sat the whole time with papers in front of her.” You roll your eyes knowing she probably paid more attention to her homework than her little sister but not wanting to judge her for it.

“Well next Sunday we’ll go to the park and I’ll play with you the whole time okay?” She nods enthusiastically beaming at you and you poke her nose before setting her down in her seat and turning to your mom. “Want me to go get Mike for dinner?”

“If you could.” You nod before heading back upstairs and knocking on his door.

“Come in!” You open his door leaning on its frame as you find him sitting on his bed the comic you got him earlier in the week in his hands

“Time for dinner Mikey Mouse.” He smiles when he looks up and sees you arms crossed with your own relaxed smile happy to see you happy at home even though he knows it probably won’t last long.

“Alright.” He closes the comic and swings his legs over the side of his bed to get up. “What’re we having again?” He swings his arm around your shoulders bringing you with him as he heads down the hallway.

“Four cheese pasta with chicken. Race you down, loser has to get food last.” You jab him in his side to give yourself a head start.

“You’re such a cheater!” Mike laughs giving you the headstart the same way you would give him it when the two of you were younger and you were still taller and faster than him. Ultimately because of that you beat him into the dining room sticking your tongue out at him as you skid to a stop a second before he can catch up to you. Your mom brings the food out to the table as the two of you take your seats, Mike opting to sit next to you instead of across from you this time.

“Ted! Dinners ready!” She calls for your father and you can hear the newspaper rustle before he comes into the dining room making his way across the room to his seat. Once your mom sits down he gets food first before it goes to Nancy and your mom who serves herself and Holly. After you pile the pasta onto your plate and start to hand the big bowl to Mike you mouth the word loser to him causing him to stick his tongue out at you in the same fashion you did not long ago. You expect your dad to say something about how much you scooped from the bowl like normal but he’s oddly silent.

“How was the rest of your week Y/n?”

“It was actually really good!” You pause eating to turn and answer your mom. “I passed the quizzes I’ve been studying for and they’re talking about making me a manager at the shop.” You shrug as if becoming a manager isn’t that big of a deal and look down at your pasta moving it around with your fork waiting for your dad to say something. When he’s still quiet you decide to keep going. “Eddie and I finished our project already even though it’s due in two weeks. There really wasn’t much else to do at his trailer after I’d get back from work.” You and Mike both look at your dad after you mention staying with Eddie, ready for whatever he has to say about it but he just continues to eat as if you haven’t said anything at all.

“That’s nice sweetie. Did the Munsons treat you well?”

“Oh yeah. Eddie’s nothing but a sweetheart and his uncle Wayne did nothing but treat me like a part of the family the whole time I was over.” Your dad scoffs but doesn’t say anything at your words and you finally understand what’s happening making you smile into your food. “How has the newspaper been Nance?” Nancy launches into what it was like in the newsroom this week and you get away with finishing your food without talking about yourself again the rest of dinner.

“Hello?” Eddie’s voice comes through the receiver after only the second ring.

“Hey Angel Eyes, I’m not interrupting yours and Waynes time am I? I can call back later if I am.”

“Of course you aren’t darlin’, we’ve been waiting for you to call.” You can practically hear his smile in his voice causing one of your own to appear on your face. “What took you so long, is everything alright?”

“Yeah everythings fine. Sorry I didn’t call earlier, by the time I was getting ready to Holly got home and I went to see her and then it was time for dinner.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything. There’s nothing wrong with you waiting to call.” His words were more reassuring than he would ever know after what feels like a lifetime of apologizing and defending your choices and actions and you let out a small sigh leaning against your headboard. “Is your dad still being an asshole?”

“Yes but it’s tolerable. He does this thing after mom really gets on him about being civil where he just acts like I don’t exist and completely ignores everything I say or do. So that’s what he’s doing now.” 

“Darlin’ that’s awful. Do you want to come back to the trailer?” The worry laced in his voice throws you off for a second not used to someone caring so much about you. And the way he says it like ignoring you is the worst thing a person could do causes your heart to skip a beat.

“It’s fine really. I’m used to it and really it’s like the best case scenario over here.” You pick at the fuzzies on your blanket as you speak and shrug even though Eddie can’t see you. “I’ll probably get like two weeks of him not causing any trouble or interacting with me out of this.” 

You don’t dare bring up how it had originally started when you were younger as a way to punish you when you were still young enough to want his attention. Even though that fact wants to burst from your lips because one thing about Eddie Munson was he made you feel like you could tell him everything and anything. He made you feel safe for once in your life and you wish you were back at the trailer instead of the house where you only felt you could be yourself in the privacy of your room.

“I wish you didn’t have to deal with that at all. You deserve so much better than that being your best case scenario.” The way he’s so definitive when he says that has you tearing up.

“I’ll let you and Wayne get back to your show, I’ve got some homework that’s due Tuesday but wanna get a head start on because of work.”

“Alright I’ll see you tomorrow Princess.”

“See you tomorrow Eds.” The both of you hang up fighting the urge to tell the other I miss you.

Eddie Taglist: @sadbitchfangirl​ @notbeforelong​​ @munsonswhore86​​ @navs-bhat​ @emotionaldreamer​ ​​​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ ​​ @fangirling-4-ever​  @gaysludge​ @audhd-dragonaut​ ​​ ​@eddiethesexy​ @mazerunnerrose​ @tvserie-s-world @midnightsgetawaycar  @goldylions  @spacedoutdaydreamer @mushroomelephant @saramelaniemoon @kaylshunter @nojamsonmytoast @vintagehellfire @esoltis280 @spikedhe4rt @let-love-bleeds-red @siriuslysmoking @toobsessedsstuff @alana4610 @gretavanfleas @sparkletash @aactuaaltraash @gloryekaterina @spookyemorockbabe

Everything Taglist: @bejeweledmastermind @matchamunson​ @bubsonnobx​ @practicalghost​ @katsukis1wife @crustyowos @yourfavdummy @protecteddiemunson4vr @kennedy-brooke

[crypticdesire]

behind the scenes

MINORS DNI

top amab reader x bottom transmasc eric shoenheit/venue (around 900 words)

cw: hate sex, objectification, mentioned 15 year age gap, overstimulation, mild dumbification, terms clit, cunt, and pussy used for eric, probably occ eric

“Wait…please” your costar, Eric Venue, grasps your wrist, stopping you from rubbing his clit as you slowly push your cock into him.

“Too much” he adds breathlessly.

“Too much?” your words are not a genuine question but a way of mocking him.

“You can’t even take the tip of my cock? I’m disappointed, Eric.” You tut. “I thought I was fucking a whore who couldn’t keep his pants on long enough to film one movie, but maybe you just started those rumors yourself?” You move to grasp his wrist instead, pinning both of his hands against the mirror above the dressing room counter that he sits on. This new position brings your face close enough to his face that you can feel the rapid, shallow breaths he exhales.

He whimpers as you push your hips forward, his insides squeezing tighter around you as your cock goes deeper into his cunt.

“It certainly feels like I’m fucking a virgin’s cunt” A low moan leaves your lips as you continue your small thrusts at a consistent pace. Your slow movements have nothing to do with being gentle, however, you just want to hear him beg more before you rearrange his guts from fucking him so hard, which will leave him only capable of incoherent babbling.

“Nothing to say for yourself?” You let go of his wrist to flick his clit, and you couldn’t be more satisfied with his reaction as he lets out a strangled moan, arches his back, and squirms with his clit no doubt seeking friction. He attempts to scowl in response to your sadistic laugh.

“You’re going to make me cum too soon” he hisses, closing his eyes as he attempts to slow his breathing.

“Is that supposed to matter to me? I don’t care how many times you cum. You could be shooting blanks for all I care. I’ll use your hole until I'm satisfied” You continue to make your point by speeding up the tempo of your thrusts, delighting in the way his squirming becomes more desperate and the fact that you can hear the squelching sounds of the lube as you drag your cock in and out of him.

“A bit self-absorbed are we?” He manages to let out a thin exhale of laughter, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk. Your insides burn with desire as he gives you exactly what you want. It’s so much more enjoyable to hear him beg after he attempts to insult you.

“You would think that. I think you’ve just gotten too used to the entitlement you get from being such a big star, old man” bitterness seeps into your voice, thrusts becoming more forceful. Eric lets out a series of moans before he’s able to formulate a response.

“I’m only 15 years older than you,” he says through gritted teeth, no doubt close to climaxing.

“All the more reason you should be grateful I’ve chosen you as a fuck toy” Before he can say anything else you turn your attention back to his already sensitive clit, rubbing circles on it as you focus on hitting the spot that will push him over the edge. He managed to stay at a reasonable volume until now, unable to control his loud moan.

“Fuck” he moans just as loudly, arching his back even more as his body shakes from his orgasm. You hiss feeling him tighten around you, grinding your hips into his as you push your cock even deeper into him and allow your cum to spill out into the condom you’re wearing.

“Go ahead, tell me how happy you are that I used you as a fuck toy.” Your request earns a weak glare in return.

“Say it, Venue” Despite the fact you’re still sensitive yourself, you start to rock your hips into him again, thumb just feathering over his clit, which twitches and causes his hips to jerk.

“Fuc- agh” the sudden overstimulation makes it impossible for him to resist you. Being fucked dumb is the only way he would ever say this, so you savor each word as it leaves his drooling mouth.

“I…” he spares you one look before screwing his eyes shut again. “I am happy to be used as your fuck toy” He whines as you pull out of him, satisfied.

“That wasn’t too hard was it” You can’t help but give him two firm slaps on his pussy to punctuate your statement. He doesn’t even have the energy to give you much of a reaction, the back of his head falling back to rest on the mirror, thighs still slightly trembling. As you dispose of the condom and begin to clean yourself up, there’s a loud knock on the dressing room door.

“Mr.Venue!” A production staff’s voice yells through the door. “Hair and makeup will be here in 15 minutes to get you prepped!”

He doesn’t even make an effort to respond, and you chuckle at his disheveled appearance.

“Better send them in early!” You call back. “Mr.Venue looks very exhausted, so he could use the extra attention!” When Eric side-eyes you, you give him a teasing wink. He manages to drape himself in a robe by the time you get dressed, and you allow him to see the deliberate way you let your eyes travel down his body.

“I’m sure you already know this Mr.Venue, but it is such an honor sharing a set with you”

[thezombieprostitute]

Sparks Fly - Part 6

Summary: After working as an engineer for Wilford & Gilliam Trust for several years you find evidence of seedy dealings and burned books. After turning in the evidence you find yourself in danger and seek help. You're taken into the protection of a mob family where you run into your high school best friend, Mace.

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: Courtroom stress. Implied violence and murder. Please let me know if I missed any.

Part 5 -- Epilogue

Series Masterlist

During the recess Mace left the courtroom to get some sustenance. He needed something since his nerves had already eaten through his breakfast. He wasn’t allowed to check in on you. No contact with you or the people looking out for you to make sure there was no connection that might be used against your testimony. And it was killing him. 

He hit up the nearest vending machine. Not exactly the best option but he didn’t want to stray too far. He kept his eyes moving to his periphery as he watched the candy bar drop. Franco the Younger arriving at the courtroom? Franco the Elder was likely nearby. He knows the security guys are going to be on the alert as well. Maybe they’d already found him and took care of him. Maybe the brothers had both hightailed it. Maybe they were hiding, waiting for an opportunity. There were just too many ‘maybes’ and he needed to calm the hell down. 

He turns and tears into the candy bar, hoping the sugar doesn’t make things worse. He looks around and sees Nick coming out of a door labeled ‘Authorized Personnel Only’. Mace makes sure to not look directly at him or draw attention to him in any way but he felt reassured that Nick had done something about at least one of the Francos. 

As stressed as he was, he couldn’t imagine how draining this was for you. Having to deal with the barrage of questions, all of the attention focused on you. But damn you were doing an amazing job. He hadn’t had the education and experience you had but he was still able to follow along with your testimony really easily. He hoped that translated to being understandable to the judge and jury. 

He hurried back into the courtroom, not wanting to be late for your return. He checked his phone and saw a note from Teach saying she thinks she’s found a job for you but has to discuss the details to make sure it’s a fit. Mace smiles, hope alighting in his chest. He just got you back, finally got to confess his feelings, and there’s a chance he won’t lose you again!

As the trial resumed he hoped you’d be able to see his smile and know that something good was happening.

You wolf down the proffered food and drink. You haven’t had this kind of intense questioning since your Doctorate defense. And that was with people who spoke at your level on these topics! You didn’t have to pull double duty and think of, not just the answer, but how to put the answer in a more generally accessible wording. You’re extra grateful for Scott’s help on that front. 

As he’s going through his phone you can see some worry lines form on his brow. You want to ask, but at the same time you’re scared to. If something bad has or will happen, you don’t know that you want to put your tired brain to work trying to process that on top of everything else. It’s scary enough having to give your testimony. Having everyone looking at you. Knowing your every word is being scrutinized. 

Scott snaps his fingers in front of your face, startling you out of your panic spiral. “You okay there,” he asks. “Do you need anything?”

“Sorry,” you shake your head. “Just…just started spiraling.”

“For what it’s worth you’re doing an amazing job. I’m nowhere near smart enough for all the technical stuff and even I can follow what you’re saying.”

You smile appreciatively, “how much longer do we have?”

“We’ve got another 20 minutes if you want to stretch your legs or something.”

“More like pacing around the room,” you softly chuckle. They were keeping you in a small, windowless room. The only thing you liked about it was the private bathroom making sure you wouldn’t have to leave Scott’s protection for the public ones. 

“Yeah, I know,” he nods. “I’m a pretty active guy so this kind of thing is stifling to me, too. But it is necessary.”

“For my protection,” you concede. “Are there any chocolate chip cookies? I could use some comfort sweets.”

“Of course,” he pulls his phone out again. “I’ll have someone bring a few right now.”

“Thank you,” you say. It’s not as much comfort as being able to be with Mace would provide, but it’s something.

Mace spends the rest of the recess answering questions from his employees and renewing his thanks for them covering for him during the “family emergency”. He’d been so invested in the time spent with you he’d pretty much forgotten about work. That was unheard of since he started working for The Family. Mace chuckled at that thought. He’d been on Curtis to make schedules more consistent so everyone could have planned downtime and then he never actually used his time off. He’d just spend it on-call for the apartments he managed. From what you’d told him your life was pretty similar. Just with a big corporation instead of apartments and mafia intel gathering. Maybe this was a chance for the both of you. 

As he’s getting lost in the thought of waking up to you every morning he’s startled out of his daydreaming by the sounds of the trial getting back on. He makes sure to keep a smile on his face. It’s easy to do when he sees you and thinks about getting to spend his time off cuddled up with you. Thinking about getting to hear your laugh every day. Getting to feel your touch. Just getting to be with you without the fear of something or someone taking it away. 

You begin answering questions again and Mace spots Nick in his periphery. He’s not sure if that’s a good or bad sign. Is there another hitman here in the crowd? Is Nick just making sure there isn’t someone else? He can’t think about that now. He’s gotta focus on you, reassuring you with a smile if and when you need it. When Nick walks out he does find he can relax a bit more.

When your testimony is over Mace makes a beeline for his truck. On his way out he recognizes Hal in a repairman getup, flirting his way past the front desk. Nick must’ve taken out the younger Franco. Mace feels like he should be helping but he’s been ordered to take care of you first and foremost. You’re his mission.

In the safety of the apartment you let yourself collapse onto the couch. You are beyond exhausted. Mace sits next to you and pulls you in, snuggling you, gently kissing the top of your head, repeatedly telling you what an amazing job you did. You let yourself enjoy the sound of his voice, the feel of his arms holding you tight, the gentleness of his kisses. No concerns, no stress, for just a moment. 

“Have you heard anything from Teach,” you ask.

“She texted me earlier today saying she might have something.”

“Did she tell you what?”

“No, she still needs to meet with you and make sure it’s a good fit.”

“The sooner we can meet with her the better. As nice and safe as this apartment is, I know I can’t stay here forever.”

“I’ll ask her when she can stop by,” he kisses the top of your head again. His stomach growls loudly and he blushes, “in the meantime, maybe I should cook up some dinner.” You giggle and let him get to the kitchen. 

That night you ask him to sleep in your bed. No sex, you just need to be held. He’s happy to acquiesce.

You’re the first to wake up and the sight of Mace in bed with you makes you feel instantly safe. Remembering that you’re supposed to meet with Teach this morning you check the time. 

“Oh, shit,” you exclaim. “AC, wake up! AC, Mace! We slept in!” You start pushing on him and he grumbles awake. 

When the words register his eyes snap open, “what time is it?”

“We’ve got about 20 minutes before she’s supposed to be here,” you jump out of bed and go to change. 

“Shit,” Mace hisses and follows suit. 

You’re both scrambling to change out of your pajamas while also trying to sneak looks at each other. Mace’s build is so much more muscular than you were expecting. The strong arms were one thing but seeing how thick and firm his entire body seems to have become has you stifling a groan. 

Mace grabs his phone and sees the text from Teach that she and Curtis are almost there and they’re bringing breakfast. He lets out a sigh, thankful that he at least doesn’t have to worry about food. He’s catching glimpses of you getting dressed and has to keep himself in check. If he didn’t have to worry about timing he’d have already smacked your gorgeous ass and pinned you to the bed. 

The two of you manage to get dressed and brush your teeth just as Mace receives the text that Teach and Curtis are here, confirmed by the knock at the door. 

When everyone is settled in and eating, Teach tells you what she’s found. “It’s not a high paying job and it’s definitely not high profile like you’re used to, but the free clinics the Family sponsors, need someone to maintain their medical equipment. You’d be reporting directly to Dr. Chris Beck, the Family’s primary physician and the man in charge of keeping the clinics running smoothly. I’m pretty sure you’ll be asked to help with other daily operations, nothing that would violate HIPAA nor anything that would require an actual medical degree, nursing or otherwise.”

You nod as you eat. She’s not wrong that it would be quite the pay cut but she promises that, not only would you, unofficially, be on the Family’s payroll, but that there would be a lot of benefits. You also appreciated that you’d still be allowed, if not encouraged, to continue pursuing your engineering interests. Patents could be negotiated as they came up but those, and any papers you wrote, would all have your name on them. 

While you’re going over those details, Curtis and Mace are talking about their work. Mace has to get back to managing and intel gathering within a few days. Especially since it turns out Franco the Elder is on a bit of a rampage. The Wilford & Gilliam company is looking at major fines and payments to families hurt by their products so they’re tightening the grip on their resources. The elder Franco is going out and causing fear in their territory, reminding their people who is in charge. It’s a prime situation for a coup and the Family needs to keep all of their eyes and ears at work with this. 

By the time Teach and Curtis head out you’ve signed all of the required paperwork to start your new job. Hell, your new life. Looking over your things you realize, “I’m definitely not going to be able to keep my apartment. I wonder if there’s a studio near one of the clinics.”

“You could always move in with me,” Mace offers. “It’s only a one-bedroom but I can sleep on the couch.”

“Why would you sleep on the couch if it’s your apartment?”

“Because I’m a gentleman like that,” he retorts with a smile.

“Or, we could share the bed,” you tease. “Like last night. But maybe with a little less clothing. Or are you too much of a gentleman for that?”

In a blink Mace has you pinned with your back against the wall, his mouth on yours, his hands roaming and squeezing. You can’t help but moan into his mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck, urging him not to stop. 

He chuckles at your whine when he pulls away to catch his breath, “don’t worry, DC. I’ll make sure the sparks fly with every kiss.”

Part 5 -- Epilogue

Series Masterlist

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@alicedopey

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[exouniverse]

Snowfall

Pairing: seokjin x gn reader

Genre: fluff, love at first sight

Warnings: alcohol consumption, very lightly though. Canon context and present time Seokjin being in the military (but hey we’ll have him back soon)

Summary: Whether it was accidental love at first sight or love at first sight by accident, Seokjin will forever be grateful to the universe for gifting him the chance to meet your healing and radiant soul.

Word count: 3.4K+

A/N: I’m still melting at these two dorks. I hope it conveyed the idea of not just love at first sight but a soul recognizing soul moment between the characters. Jin just gives me ultimate romantic vibes so I tried to aim at that with this story. This one took me longer because I was so busy at the time… and since I had thought to make it into two parts, I had to change it back to one part for the delay, but I still lasted even longer than I thought, sorry. Another happy (late) birthday, Jin!

I made the divider, so please credit if you use it.

I think Yes or No by Jungkook fits this one quite well.

MASTERLIST | MOODBOARD

The sigh came out full of amusement; Jin knew that his friends were trying their best. He knew they were probably orchestrating something bigger than he had expected when they told him that they wanted to celebrate his birthday with him.

Their texts were probably all an act to have him arrive later on and throw him a big surprise. He took pride in intuiting those types of behaviors from the younger members, especially Taehyung. For that reason, he decided to take his time, and since he was close to that café he loves and misses so much, he went in for just a cup.

He just couldn’t be too upset, not on a night like the present one. There was magic in the air as he walked, even when the day had been just too cold and no snow had fallen. As the cozy café came into view, a warm glow beckoned through the windows.

The place was in its usual quiet bustle, with people seeking refuge from the cold with warm drinks and treats. The twinkling string lights danced along the wooden beams as soft holiday-themed music set the mood.

As he took it all in, reminiscing on the many times he’d been around, Minjae behind the counter glanced up with a smile. “Hyung, long time no see—oh, today is your birthday, right?”

Seokjin blushed, still getting bashful about being such a recognizable person and having people remember things about him. “It’s been a while; you’re right.”

Minjae nodded enthusiastically while he started entering in Seokjin’s usual order. “Are you on your way to celebrate?” he casually asked.

“Yeah, the boys were planning a get-together, but you know how they are. I have gotten too many cryptic messages.” They shared a laugh.

Seokjin thanked Minjae soon after his coffee was ready, carefully accepting it with his gloved hands as he looked for a cozy corner to wait in. He opted for a loveseat near the counter since his usual spot by the window was taken. It seemed like a convenient spot to keep an eye out for his friends’ supposed arrival and to offer Minjae some company while they chatted.

However, soon enough, another customer entered, and Minjae resumed his work. Seokjin pulled out his phone, settling for a bit of scrolling to pass the time. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, but the sweet sound of the customer’s laugh was addicting and contagious. Seokjin glanced up, curious.

This stranger was more than captivating; now a pair of eyes were what stopped him in his tracks. The warmth emanating from the most radiant gaze he had ever encountered captivated him, leaving him entranced. The vibrant blue scarf complimented the stranger’s smile so harmoniously. He was lost, so much so that, for a second, he didn’t even notice he had spilled his coffee on his hands until the burn was truly unbearable.

He tried to stop his scream, but an odd hiss came out and called Minjae and the stranger’s attention towards him. Before he could realize it, the pair of eyes fixed on his were closer than before. A pair of hands accompanied them, quick and skilled, taking his gloves off and leading him behind the counter.

He snapped out of his trance once Minjae put a name to the stranger before him and his hands touched the cool water coming from the sink. “Y/N,” he repeated quietly.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

Seokjin could only smile and nod, but not because of the pain restricting him from speaking up since the water was quite calming on his minor burns. He could have answered using his voice, but he was still too wonderstruck by the sight of you to even utter a thank you.

He remained calm while you attended to his injuries, sharing one lingering glance, and this serene state persisted for the remaining twenty minutes or so until you asked Minjae for some food wrap. The situation seemed rather absurd, and the sight of his hands covered in plastic only added to the whimsicality of it all. Your eyes met his once again, emanating a profound sense of compassion that left him breathless.

“Thank you,” he whispered, hoping his words conveyed the depth of emotion hidden within them. It was astonishing how just the sound of your laughter and the warmth of your gaze could capture his heart. He had never imagined that he could fall so effortlessly in love with someone, especially a stranger.

“It’s okay. I guess the nursing course I took a few years ago turned out to be helpful after all,” you joked, attempting to lighten the mood. However, a hint of nervousness lingered, partly because of the significance of the person you had just assisted.

A soft laugh escaped him at your charming humor, melting away the tension on his shoulders. “Well, I'm glad such skills have remained sharp. I feel quite indebted to your nursing expertise.”

An undeniable sense of familiarity between the two of you blossomed, despite having been strangers just moments ago. Your eyes shimmered with amusement as you observed your handiwork, and Seokjin felt his breath catch again at your radiant smile.

Even with only a few words exchanged between the two of you, he sensed a kindred spirit shining through—one he was reluctant to part with so soon. As Minjae returned with a new order for him, he hesitated, searching for any reason to prolong this serendipitous encounter just a little while longer.

“Could I have the pleasure of treating you to a drink as a thank you for your help? It's the least I can offer in return.” His words carried a hopeful tone that he hoped did not come across as too forward. Yet, deep down, he hoped that you would understand his intention and that you would also feel the undeniable pull of fate that had intertwined your paths.

A gentle smile adorned your face as you considered his invitation. You didn't want to appear overly eager by accepting too quickly, but the happy coincidence of encountering Jin in such a familiar setting left you feeling perplexed. You were a regular at the café, and it seemed that he frequented it as well. While you had heard rumors of his presence—actually seeing him before you and, moreover, him offering a coffee as a token of gratitude for aiding his burned hands—it was hard to believe.

You let out a soft giggle. “Well, I guess it would be rude to refuse such a gracious thank you,” you replied at last, the warmth or your tone soothing any lingering doubts. Minjae beamed behind the two of you, ever the cheerful accomplice to new beginnings.

“I’ll get you your usual, Y/N”

Both of you exchanged smiles with Minjae as you took Seokjin's drink, and he motioned for you to lead the way. Glancing around, you noticed that your usual corner near the window was now available. Grabbing a towel, you swiftly cleaned the area so that the two of you could sit there comfortably. Just in time, Minjae returned with your drink, soon leaving the two of you alone. However, not without sending a playful wink your way, assuring you to feel at ease no matter what.

A small nervous laugh escaped both of you, creating even more laughter at the synchronization. Seokjin caught your gaze. “I must thank you again for your kindness,” he began gently. “Not only for tending to my foolish injury, but for agreeing to my offer. It feels like our paths were meant to cross.”

Your eyes held his with a look of warm understanding. “Some things are simply fate, wouldn't you say?” you remarked, with a hint of teasing in your smile. “Although I doubt you'll make a habit of burning yourself for my attention.”

Seokjin was truly enjoying your wits, so much so that he felt the last of his nerves melt away. “No promises, but I'll do my best to behave.”

A comfortable silence fell after you shared some giggles. As you sipped your drinks, an unspoken ease flowed between you like the falling snow. Both of you turned your gaze at the sparkling flakes. It was almost like magic how, up until this moment, the weather graced the day with its finest snowfall.

“Ah, lovely,” he whispered, looking back at you. You couldn’t lie; the butterflies in your stomach were so loud. He might have said it just to describe the snow, but there was something quite magnetic about the way he looked at you.

If you stared a second longer, your growing smile could’ve given away the nerves you were trying to conceal. However, conversation flowed nicely between you two, engaging in small talk and smoothly moving to more meaningful topics as you discovered shared interests.

“Are your hands better?” you asked after taking a glimpse at them.

“I think so, thanks to your quick action. I don’t feel pain anymore.”

Your hand moved towards his to examine it, but in that moment, Jin received a text. He looked at you apologetically while also feeling a bit of reluctance for the moment to end. His eyes drifted to the falling snow once more, contemplating briefly.

The members had no doubt worked hard on his surprise, but he found himself wishing for just a little more time in your company. You were still strangers, and inviting you so freely felt premature, no matter the connection he sensed between you two.

His eyes returned to find your understanding gaze, and he knew then he could trust his instincts about you. “It seems I must leave now,” he murmured softly, “but I kind of don’t want to go just yet.”

You smiled then, sparking warmth within his chest. “Then allow me to lend you my gloves, at least, so your hands stay warm on the way.”

He glanced down at his own damp gloves, now useless against the cold. “Only if you'll let me return them—or leave them safely in Minjae's care—until our paths cross again.”

A thoughtful look seemed to come over you, and he hoped he had not presumed too much. But then you reached into your pocket, withdrawing a small card. “Or perhaps we could meet again more intentionally. My number, if you'd like.”

Accepting the card with gentle care, he felt a surge of promise for what lay ahead, beyond the bounds of this chance encounter. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything.”

“Happy birthday, Seokjin!” You giggled, hearing him say your name without both of you having formally introduced yourselves before. The look on his eyes was startled, but partly amused at the realization.

As Jin walked beneath a blanket of white towards the destination that the members sent him with the change of plans, he felt reborn. The snowflakes held more magic than he ever believed. His thoughts strayed often to the gentle soul he’d left by the cafe window. The last smile you shared warmed him more than any glove or drink ever could.

As he arrived at the party venue, a wave of hugs and greetings swiftly enveloped him. But Jimin, ever perceptive, was the first to notice. “Hyung, are those not your usual gloves?” he asked, eyeing the unique handmade knitwork wrapped around his hands.

A smile appeared on his lips involuntarily as he recalled the memory. “A kind soul lent them to me. It's a long story.”

Jungkook and Hoseok exchanged a mischievous look, already scheming to wheedle more details from him later. But for now, he simply enjoyed the moment, turning his thoughts now and then to you inside the warmth of the café. This prompted his friends to barrage him with good-natured, teasing questions about his mysterious gloved benefactor.

He skillfully evaded their jokes with enigmatic smiles, reveling in keeping your memory as his charming secret for a while longer. Jimin soon sensed his distraction and kindly drew the others’ attention elsewhere.

“So… hyung, what happened to your hands?” Jimin asked carefully once the rest of the members were safely distracted and mingling around.

“Ah… silly coffee burn—“

“Oh, were you at Minjae's café?”

Seokjin chuckled, amused by Jimin’s intuitiveness. “I was close by, so I waited there for your reply.”

Jimin didn’t push Seokjin to tell him any details, even when he had so many questions about the hints that his hyung was unconsciously giving away. Seokjin was grateful for Jimin’s patience because he needed to put all of his thoughts together and try not to act relentlessly.

It wasn’t until the next afternoon, when he received an email from the café, that he felt reassured of his persistent thoughts of meeting you and the ease with which he had developed such fondness for you. His trivial doubts and hesitations couldn’t overshadow the sense of clarity he found in your presence.

He grabbed your card from the pocket of his coat and quickly sent you a text, including two different types of hand emoji. The thrill of the wait was suddenly quite exciting for Seokjin, even when a tiny bit of fear made his hands sweat at the thought of you not replying.

You: Hi Seokjin!👋 How could I forget? I hope your hands are healing well.

Seokjin: They are 🤗 I'm still using the gel you recommended. Has kept me occupied during breaks in service.

You: I'm glad to hear it's helping. How have things been at the base?

Seokjin: Busy as always. But I’m looking forward to some time off for the holidays.

You: Aw, I hope your service continues smoothly for now until your time off.

Seokjin: Me too. Did you see Minjae's email about the café's NYE party? Sounds cozy and fun.

You: Yes! It would be nice to ring in the new year there with friends. Any chance you'll get leave that weekend?

Seokjin: Fingers crossed my request gets approved 🤞🤞 If so, would you maybe want to attend together? Only if you're free of course 😊

You: I'd love to! It would be wonderful to see you ☺️ Please let me know what they say as soon as you're able.

Seokjin: I will. Thank you for your patience and support ☺️🫰 it means more than you know. I'll text you soon about my request.

You: Can't wait to hear from you. In the meantime, take good care and stay safe. Happy holidays!

Seokjin: You too. Talk to you later 🤗

Just enough snow was falling as Seokjin walked towards the café. The ambiance inside was a little more upbeat than usual, with pop music and people talking in groups and enjoying their drinks. However, it was hard to miss you; his gaze was fast enough to recognize you sitting at the spot you two share as your favorite by the window. The light outside made the snowflakes twinkle in a way that complemented the radiance of your face.

Your eyes sparkled the moment you met his. Seokjin marveled at the comfort your smile radiated. He only wished to listen to that laugh of yours again, right in that moment.

“You came,” he whispered.

“As promised,” you replied, “who else would be willing to indulge in my endless chatter and ridiculous jokes if not you? I’d be lost without our chats to look forward to.”

And just like that, he was enchanted once again. You could laugh or get him to laugh; either way, all he would wish is for that moment in time to last forever.

Seokjin smiled, settling into place next to you. “The members have enjoyed your jokes more than they do mine, they are excited to meet you,” he shared.

You laughed—the sound that he had wished for so long to listen to—and he squeezed in closer. “That’s high praise! I hope I can see them soon, when the time is right.”

He nodded in agreement, and Minjae appeared with special drinks. “Here, our special winter warmer for you both,” Minjae said with a wink.

With shy smiles, both of you thanked Minjae before he ran off to the counter again to prepare more drinks for the guests. You smiled at each other and blew gently on the surface of the rich red liquid before taking a cautious sip.

The wine was deep and fruity, with gentle notes of cinnamon, clove, and orange dancing on your taste buds. You hummed as you enjoyed the drink, and Seokjin watched with a smile as a rosy blush bloomed on his cheeks—both from the heat of the drink and your company.

The mulled wine managed to keep both of you warm and happy. As you engaged in small chats with each other and some other guests you’d seen before, you longed for a more adventurous moment to share with only him.

You lightly placed your hand on his wrist as you found a quiet moment together. “The snow seems to have settled down, so… wanna go for a walk? We could go to Gwanghwamun Square.”

Your touch sent a thrill coursing through him, drawing a boyish smile on his face. The hands that had healed his wounds a few weeks ago felt familiar now, yet the sensation of their touch brought forth new feelings and a delightful flutter within him, captivating him in a state of euphoria.

“I’d love nothing more,” he agreed, “but first, you might need this.” He pulled from his pocket the pair of gloves you had lent him.

“I thought you’d keep them as a gift, you know, for your birthday.” You chuckled as you accepted them back, unintentionally brushing your fingers against his.

“I know this will sound cheesy, but I feel like meeting you that day was my gift,” he said, and you swooned so naturally that it was shown in your smile. “Now I have a personal nurse right at my fingertips.”

A soft laugh escaped you at his teasing, but your heart nearly burst at his tender admission. That day and the following weeks of text conversations had been nothing but magical for you. Seokjin found a place in your life that no one had ever been in so quickly, and although everything sometimes felt like a dream, you were sure that your connection could only grow stronger.

Wrapped in your coats, you stepped outside into the busy winter scene. It felt so cliché, but the tension between you somehow warmed you up as you walked side by side, and at times, your arms swayed so close to each other that you could almost reach for his hand and interlace your fingers.

Once you reached the square, both of you beamed at the decorations from the festival taking place for the holidays. Still, a few snowflakes drifted down, dusting Seokjin’s beanie and eyelashes. He gazed around in wonder, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, struck by how the sparkling flakes highlighted his handsome features.

As you gazed at him, one flake landed perfectly on the tip of his nose. He scrunched it adorably, going cross-eyed trying to see. Chuckling, you reached out and gently wiped it away with your gloved finger.

Your eyes met, and something shifted in the space between. Something gentle bloomed as you both realized you didn’t want this night to end. Before you could move your hand from his face, Seokjin held it close to his chest.

“Please… say you feel it too? This thing between us, growing each day?” His breath caught softly, waiting—yet hoping, above all else, to stay by your side.

The closeness set the butterflies free within you, yet calmed the tumult in your heart. His question brought a smile to your face. “Feel it?” You breathed, raising your free hand to rest on his shoulder. “I thought it to be a dream, but from the moment we met, you’re etched into my thoughts. I feel it too, and I find I want nothing more than to see where it may lead us.”

Seokjin let out a soft sigh, accompanied by a gentle giggle. Leaning nearer still, he rested his forehead against yours as you mirrored his reaction. “Then let’s discover it together, one step at a time. I can promise you, there is nowhere I would rather be.” Gently, shyly, he pressed his lips against your forehead in a tender kiss.

Without hesitation, your hands intertwined, your fingers slipping sweetly between his as if they belonged there. Side by side, you turned, following the paths through the lit-up square, awaiting new beginnings.

[againstacecilia]

Together

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Warnings: Fluffy smut, tying everything up, face reveal, having to say goodbye to these two is it's own warning.

A/N: Y'all... This is it! Thank you so much for being around for this ride. I started writing this in July of this year and before I knew it, an entire story was in front of me. I'm so grateful for every one of you who read any part of this story, and especially grateful to @creatively-analytical for being with me every step of the way. 💖

The next day dawns bright and warm, peeking through the open cockpit door and sneaking down into the hold where you and Din had fallen asleep only a couple hours before. His scent surrounds you, bright and warm like the evergreens on the edge of town. You keep your eyes closed as consciousness takes you, breathing in the feeling of security and care that envelops every sense thanks to the man slumbering beside you. Every fiber of your being wants to look over to see his face; all it would take is a simple turn of your neck… But you know how much trust he has in you to be sleeping helmet-less by your side. You couldn’t ruin that just to satisfy your curiosity.

Instead, you roll to face away from him and scoot closer into his embrace. He stirs at the movement.

“Morning, cyar'ika,” he mumbles, face nuzzling into the back of your head. He kisses down your neck and over your shoulder. The kisses, slow and sleepy, stir something in your gut and your body leans into the contact, a sigh escaping your lips.

“Morning,” you breathe, hand coming up to tangle in Din’s hair. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better than I have in years.” His lips never leave your skin as he asks, “You?”

“Mmm…” is all you can muster as your attention follows the trail his kisses make up and down your neck and shoulder.

His chuckle vibrates through his chest into your body. “Something distracting you?”

You turn around to face him again, placing your own kisses reverently along his collarbone. You follow up his neck and along his jaw before ghosting your lips over his. “You’re distracting me.”

“My apologies,” he whispers into your lips.

“I don’t think you’re actually-”

Before you can finish, he presses his lips to yours with a quiet fire. Your body responds instinctively and your lips part, his tongue sweeping between them. His hands are suddenly flying over your body, resting for only a moment before landing somewhere new, kneading and massaging every inch of skin he can find.

“You’re right, I’m not sorry,” he says, voice low and dark.

What started as something gentle and sleepy turns desperate as you both cling to each other. Din’s hand drifts lower, his fingers circling your clit with abandon. He kisses your neck and marks your skin with his teeth as your breath turns ragged.

“You’re so beautiful, coming undone like this for me,” Din says between presses of lips to skin.

“Take off your pants,” you manage, much less romantic than Din’s showers of praise.

He laughs but does what you ask, disengaging for just long enough to remove the article of clothing before his lips crash into yours. Your hand reaches down to wrap around his length and he sighs, head dropping to rest on your collarbone.

He breathes your name into the dark, nearly praying to you as you continue working your hand up and down his cock. After a moment his hand finds yours, “I’m not going to last much longer if we don’t slow down, cyar'ika.”

A smile curls your lips as you whisper, “Then fuck me, Din.”

He growls and bites down on the soft skin of your neck, coming up to straddle you and shifting his hips up to yours. You angle the head of his shaft to your entrance and he slips deep into you, both of you sighing at the connection.

“You’re fucking perfect,” Din says, rocking up into you. His hands plant next to your head, arms trembling with the tension of not absolutely losing control.

Your hands ghost up his arms, seeking purchase on his shoulders and fingers digging into his flesh. His thrusts pick up their pace and he slams up into you over and over again. It doesn’t take long before your walls begin to clench around him. “Oh Maker, Din, don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

He reaches one of his hands down between your bodies to circle your clit and that’s all it takes for your climax to crash over you. Your nails scrape along his skin as the waves of pleasure crest and break through your body. Din thrusts one final time before shuddering over you; sweat coating his naked body and breath coming in gasps as the hand between you twitches to grab the flesh of your hip.

You're both spent and Din finally collapses on top of you, skin to skin. As you try to catch your breath, a giggle bubbles through your lips.

“Something funny, Cuyan?” Din pants.

“No, nothing like that,” you giggle again and wrap your arms around him. “You just… You make me so happy.”

He nuzzles into you and laughs with you, the beautiful sound echoing in the dark. He rolls off of you and onto his side while pulling you with him. His fingers trail through your hair, “I’ve never felt like this for anyone before.” He pauses and you let the silence stretch, holding space for whatever he wants to say. “I know it’s soon, so soon after everything that’s happened for you, but… I’m willing to wait for you. I’m willing to wait however long you need but you are who I want.”

You turn your face towards his, the features inches from you but still veiled in the darkness of the hold. You picture what his face looks like as he bares his soul to you. How his eyes might be searching over your face. How his lips might curl around your name as he whispers it. How his forehead might crinkle waiting for your response. There’s no doubt in your heart as you whisper, “I love you, Din.”

A choked laugh escapes him before he pulls you in and kisses you all over your face. He skips around from your lips to your forehead, lovingly showering your cheeks and the tip of your nose as you giggle and squirm in his arms. Pure joy radiates off him.

“I love you too, Cuyan.” His forehead meets yours. “Akay haar kyr.”

“When do I get to find out what all these words mean?” You ask him with a poke to the side.

He nuzzles his nose against yours, “That phrase means ‘until the end’.”

Your heart glows while you kiss him. Pulling away, you ask, “What about shar… Shar-reek…”

“Cyar’ka means darling.” He kisses you back.

Between kisses and pecks, Din tells you more about Mando’a, the language of his people. It’s a beautiful language, filled with a rhythm that makes it feel like a dance. Mandalorians may be a warrior race but the beauty in their language gives you an appreciation for the depth of their culture.

After letting you ask a million versions of “What is this word in Mando’a”, Din quiets you with a long, slow kiss. His lips leave yours just enough to say, “I want to show you something.”

“Okay.” You lean in to kiss him again but he fully pulls away. The cot shifts as his weight is lifted off. You hear him step back a bit before the hold once again fills with silence.

“Close your eyes.”

You do immediately, the command becoming second nature. Through your lids, you can see the light turn on and bathe everything in a soft glow. Din’s footsteps come back and he sits on the end of the cot.

You hear him take a deep breath, “Cuyan.”

“Yes?” Your heart starts fluttering in your chest, the energy shifting between you.

“Look at me.”

You’re about to open your eyes before a thought stops you, “Did you put your helmet back on?”

“Cuyan,” he repeats, his hand gently taking yours. He brings it up to his face and, where you expect the cold resistance of beskar, instead you feel the warm skin of his cheek.

Tears well under your eyelids as you realize what he’s offering. More than his name or his body, your Mandalorian is offering his face. The final piece in his Creed. “Are you sure?”

“Look at me, cyar'ika.”

Your eyes fly open and take in the face sitting before you. Deep, dark eyes of velvet brown bore into yours from mere feet away. Your hand lays on tan skin speckled with scruff the same dark color of the curls framing his face. A smooth patch of skin hides along the stubble on his jaw, and a dimple forms as he watches you memorize his face. You take your fingers and trace along the bridge of his nose and over his cheekbones, stopping on the laugh lines that crinkle at his eyes.

“Din…” Your other hand comes up and both your hands cup his face. “You’re beautiful.”

Tears light his eyes at your words. He closes them and leans into your touch, chin trembling. You shift onto your knees and bring yourself toward him for a closer look, drinking in his plush lashes and full lips, memorizing every scar and line as you whisper, “Thank you.”

- - - - - - - -

All those months ago, when you were a trembling ball of fear and courage, you set out with a slightly terrifying Mandalorian to find someone you couldn’t imagine life without. In the months since, you learned about people and places in an ever-growing Galaxy but, mostly, you learned about yourself. You found pieces to a puzzle you thought had already been completed which helped you see how much more you were than a simple artist from Randon. You’d been crushed into so many jagged-edged pieces you didn’t think there would be any way to rebuild, but you did it anyway and found not just who you could be, but who you wanted to be.

The future will never be certain, you tell yourself that night as the Razor Crest whips through hyperspace, your partner piloting the way towards the next chapter of your story, but at least I can be certain that, whatever it looks like, Din will be by my side and I’ll be at his.

Together.

Previous chapter || Masterlist

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[heartbrkr]

make you feel alright

SUMMARY You weren’t looking, but you’ve found a gap in the clouds.

PAIRING choi soobin x gender neutral!reader

GENRE established relationship, slight hurt/comfort

WORD COUNT 1k

WARNINGS none

AUTHOR’S NOTE i'm incredibly love deprived i need a soobin in my life. this is very self-indulgent, lowkey a rant, and inspired by yellow days’s gap in the clouds. enjoy!

MASTERLIST | REQUESTS: OPEN!

You have a tendency to keep a nonchalant front, including around the people you can comfortably call good company. It is as it seems: a coping mechanism because of all the previous unpleasant experiences you’ve encountered throughout your lifetime. These walls have been around ever since you were young, but you’ve learned to make peace with them, knowing that those you trust the most could suddenly leave you high and dry after they think you no longer benefit them. You’ve learned to see the negative aspects of people before getting to know them, expecting them to walk all over you. That’s why you could only call a handful of people your friends; it’s better to be safe than to be sorry. But again, you’re still wary. The only person you’ve really, really opened up to about all this is your current boyfriend, Soobin.

He knows that you don’t purposefully shut yourself out, distance yourself if you feel you’ve overshared enough for the week, get into one-sided conflicts with friends (and not confronting them about it because according to you, “if they wanted to know how I feel, they would”), and the like too many to list. It’s become second nature to you, and he’s been patient enough to learn how it works, how your mind works.

“I like being around you. I like being with you.” When Soobin heard your mumble from the sofa where your figure was slouched, he didn’t know how to process these words. Mainly because they made his heart feel something he couldn’t name; all he knows is that his heart is rushing with overflowing love for you. It didn’t help that the article of clothing that adorned your torso was one of his sweaters.

“Yeah?” As he walks back to you with the water he grabbed from the kitchen, you continue your unfiltered, yet endearing chatter. You accept the glass he held out to you with a grateful nod.

“Your presence… you know when the sun peeks through the gap in the clouds?” He’s silent after your confession, not wanting to disrupt your train of thought, but he nods. It takes a lot for a person to acceptingly experience vulnerability, especially if it is something they resent. You take a sip of your water, gently putting it down on the glass table making sure it doesn’t spill before carrying on.

“It’s like that. Ever since you’ve been around, things feel lighter and brighter. I love how you make me feel.”

”The first time we met, though I believe to this day you are the most enchanting being I have ever laid my eyes on, my intention was never to get romantically involved. But I knew I wanted you in my life for the rest of my time somehow.” At this point, your hands have seeked out his and the sight is what your eyes chose to rest on. Your fingers lightly scrape over the surface of the bracelet Soobin is wearing; you bought and gave it to him after you received your first paycheck. It was a good day.

You aren’t seeing how Soobin’s attention is so focused on you. Anyone could hypothesize that he’s hypnotized solely by your existence. You tell him that all the good in the world is stored in him, especially his eyes and smile. He teasingly begs to differ every single time, but you’re just fortunate you’re at the receiving end of his loving sight and adoring grin.

“But I fear that one day, your heart stops yearning for what I offer you, that you leave me with the mark of you and I have to live through everyday from then on without you. Me, personally, I’m not saying you will, but my mind’s conditioned me to think that the possibility is always there.”

There’s a beat of silence so that Soobin could absorb what you dumped on him, but he doesn’t really see it that way. He’s forever thankful that you trust him enough to talk about these things with him, knowing how closed off you are.

You speak up again, hoping that he’s had enough time to process what you’ve told him, “thank you for caring. I’m sorry if I’m ever too much.” You finally built up the courage to divert your eyes to him, your hands still fiddling his own.

In classic Soobin fashion, he tilts his head slightly at your statement with a pout and you want to tackle and squish him for it. You held back, deciding that there’ll be proper times to release your cute aggression on him.

“Why should you thank me for that?”

“You know.” Of course he does, he just wants to hear you say it. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

He slowly lets go of your hands, which results in you looking at him aloofly, and reaches out to engulf you mellowly, “don’t be afraid.”

You’re annoyed because your eyes start to water and you can’t control them. Your one hand continues to rest on Soobin’s back, while the other weakly hits his head.

“My intention wasn’t to cry today.” You complain, your statement muffled by his shirt. He chuckles a little too happily for your liking, so you smack him again.

The gentle flutter of the electric fan, the humming of the refrigerator, the beating of each other's hearts, the occasional leaks of the kitchen faucet that has yet to be repaired; all these build up the serenity that settles in Soobin’s home.

“You make me feel alright, I hope I do the same for you.”

And with perfect timing, the warm glow of the sunset embellishes the living room, though it isn’t as warm as the embrace you’re in. Soobin hugs you tighter than he did a minute ago; it’s almost like he’s afraid to lose you (he is), even if there isn’t any distance left to close. It was enough to make you doubt your own overthinking. “You do. If our paths didn’t cross when they did, I would’ve lost my mind.”

Everything is temporary, but each moment you spend with Soobin makes you forget that.

[soracities]

i hope it is ok to seek advice here regarding this. i promise it’s nothing too heavy, though if it is feel free to ignore. your followers are free to pitch in any thoughts or advice too.

around 2020 i got into reading again, and it was a wonderful experience bc i never thought it could be so fun to read books. i started with a non-fiction book and from there my interest piqued. i started setting a reading goal then, 25 a year and i think it did more damage than good to me. when i switched to other genres like fantasy, i realized my comprehension was… not that good. but i envy others who can read fast. there is just so much lovely books in the world to read, and i want to read and properly comprehend them all and give them the attention they might deserve, but i have an unhealthy relationship with reading as of the moment. i’m pressured to read fast and reach goals. do you have any advice or tips? thank you kindly.

i think the best thing is to probably completely remove any kind of quantitative reading goals for the time being. it may also help to ask yourself: read fast why? read fast for whom? if it's for yourself then why does it matter to you to have read such-and-such a number of books, or to have managed it in such-and-such an impressive manner? if it's for yourself then what difference does it make, truly, if you've read 3 books this year, or 30?

i think the impossible number of potentially wonderful books in the world will always leave you feeling like you're not reading enough and that there is never enough time to catch up, but i think this is something you have to learn to accept in order not to overwhelm yourself to the point of panic. there are only so many books you will be given the time to read in one lifetime, and missing out on some does not erase the experience of having read and enjoyed others. the fact remains that you will never be able to read all the books you want and comprehend them fully and attentively at the same time--there simply aren't enough hours or years for that. some books won't make the cut, and that is okay; it's not an either/or situation, where you have to read everything or else none of the rest counts--you won't miss out on any once-in-a-lifetime world-altering experiences for not having read certain titles, because each book you do read will build its own experience with you. reading a book because something about it has caught you or because you've felt drawn to it at a particular moment in time, regardless of its rankings or what anyone else says about it, means a lot more than forcing yourself through the latest Booker prize shortlist because it's something you feel you have to do or because everyone else is talking about it.

books, and chiefly stories, are important to me and always have been, but i'm also very resistant to the idea of elevating them to some sacred status or endowing them with mythic powers they do not have. they are these wonderful things we have made, existing in tandem with all the other wonderful things we have made and continue to make, like hearty soups, or delicate glass earrings, or hats in the shape of animals, none of which we worry about missing out on; i'm not thinking of all the adorable pottery being made that i'll never get the chance to see--whatever cute creations i do get to see make me happy and grateful in and of themselves. books, in my view, anyway, are no different. in this, i think it helps sometimes to not look at your To Read list as a a series of checkpoints or mandatory targets, but rather as a growing indication of all the various interests you’ve collected or been struck by as time's gone on. i love what Umberto Eco said about an unread personal library being more about an accumulation of possibilities rather than the actual reading itself--it's a testament to your curiosity and the worlds you want to give yourself the chance to explore and surround yourself with

i think it's also important to remember that if you are switching between genres, especially ones you haven't read before, or coming into reading after not having done it for a long time, then it's not uncommon that, quite often, you may need to slow down and get used to the structure of this particular genre, or that particular book, which is to be expected; it's not a one-size fits all by any means, and it's not supposed to be either. in a sense, it's like baking; maybe you can make a shortcrust pastry with your eyes closed, but you wouldn't do that the first time you try a swiss meringue and you certainly wouldn't expect to get it as easily the first few goes. i don't know much about fantasy novels, and i don't know which book you read, but not immediately comprehending something is not inherently a bad thing or something to be ashamed of--it just means you're encountering something new: language you have yet to grow used to, structures you'll need time to familiarise yourself with, narratives that may require you to slow down and read more carefully.

i see this talked about so many times, so i really want to stress: reading quickly is not necessarily a sign that you read well. unless you are in an academic setting where speed is sometimes needed, i think that, ultimately, it's a completely arbitrary, rather capitalist, rubric to measure any kind of reading by and it doesn't add anything to the experience in my view except maybe bragging points (like, admittedly, yes, it may be impressive that someone manages to finish Ulysses or War and Peace in 2 days, but in all honesty...that's not why those books were written, and that shouldn't be the aim of reading them in the first place--whoever talks about managing to read a poem in 30 seconds flat?). the only time i set a solid reading goal for myself and completed it was also a year in which, by the end of it, i could probably only properly recall 2 or 3 of the books i actually read. i haven't set numbered reading goals since then; comparing that to this year--where i barely read anything until April, and even then read much slower than i normally do, i could tell you a lot more about what i did read, for nearly every one of them, and what they made me feel or think. i've said this before so i'll sound like a broken record at this point, and while i know it is much easier said than done, the main thing is not what pace you're reading at but whether or not that pace is the right pace for you, and for what you're reading and what that particular book demands of you. some people do read quickly and retain what they read and that's fine; some people don't and that's fine, too. some people fall in between. some books themselves are easy to read quickly, and some are not, and again this, too, will vary greatly depending on who is reading them and how, but in the end there is no right or wrong way because it's not a value judgement; not reading "fast enough", whatever that is supposed to even mean, is not an indictment of your intelligence or your personality or your interest in books generally.

as i said, i really do think the best thing is to park all reading goals (personally i think we should just banish numbers altogether, but that's just me) and instead try to hone in on books that mean something to you as books, not on where they fit in an annual list. go back to the books you read at the start and enjoyed most and maybe branch out from there within the same genre--the same topic, the same author, and see where that takes you. if there is a particular topic or author you have always been intrigued by then try that (if you really enjoy being part of a community for the things you like, then you can also seek out online bookclubs / forums). focus on books you know you will enjoy, or have good reason to believe you will enjoy, at the start and just take it from there. if you really, really, really feel that you need to set a number for yourself, then while keeping within the range of books you will enjoy, choose maybe 3, no more than that, but don't delve into anything overly heavy or demanding unless it's something that's got you incredibly excited and eager to read about. also, if you end up picking something and not vibing with it then do not, under any circumstances, be afraid to drop that book and find something else. if the timing is not right, you can always return to it at another point, it won't go anywhere; if it's just categorically not your thing, then dump it and move on. at the end of the day i always think the main thing is to centre your own pleasure and enjoyment, no matter what books that may lead you to, and to build your reading from there. i'm sorry for how late this is, but i hope it helps you even just a little x

[marshmallowsqoosh]

[Sleep Token (Band) | Gratitude]

Fandom: Sleep Token Title: Gratitude Rating: Mature CW: Non-Explicit Sex, Tentacles, Dubious Consent -> Explicit Consent, Hand Jobs, References to Mental Health Issues, Lesser Warnings: Altered Physical State (Sleep gives His vessels gifts that cause mutations; III has tentacles), Self-Conscious!Vessel/Depressed!Vessel, Sleep is chill/supportive, Sleep is an eldritch horror that exists in an alternate plane of existence and manifests as tentacles to His vessels, Vessel is Sleep’s host so... assisted masturbation???

Summary: Sleep doesn't understand much about humans, but knows many of them appreciate physical intimacy. He enjoys paying His vessels-especially His host-gratitude and praise.

Vessel is grateful... but not entirely positive he's earned it. III is very positive he's earned it. ♥ aka Sleep likes to praise His vessels by making them feel good and III gets to help.

extras. Status (& AO3 Link): complete! word count. ~3815

I am not responsible for what I do when I’m tired and haven’t slept in like four days.

♥ 

Vessel wakes up to the sensation of awareness in his core… and, perhaps, in part because he feels… familiarity and waking nerves spreading through his body. Nerves that aren't his.

In the same moment he manages to push up on his left arm—body and limbs already beginning to feel nonexistent in anticipation—he feels III shift beneath his right arm and quickly shushes him.

"Mmm… Vessel—?"

"It's nothing." A chaste kiss across the other's forehead, a gentle trail of fingers down the side of III's face, cupping his cheek for the briefest moment to lull him back down to the pillows. "I'll only be a few moments. Go back to sleep."

The words always leave such an odd taste in his mouth—one he isn't certain is his own awareness or their Old God being pleased. But, after a moment of struggling to wake up more, III finally relaxes back into the bed, rolling onto Vessel's pillow, in the process, and clearly doing his best to smother himself in the familiarity and scent as Vessel gingerly wills himself out of bed. He only watches III for a moment longer—just long enough to check he's indeed still and fast asleep again—before he turns his full attention to getting even a little bit further away. Somewhere he won't risk waking the bassist or either of the other vessels or any acolytes.

His walk is unsteady as the awareness spreads and becomes heavier. It doesn't take long until he's shaking with the sheer effort to stay standing, one hand braced on the wall as he edges down the hallway. He perhaps wanted to get to the library, maybe even the oratory. Somewhere… quiet and away from people. As it is, he's lucky he manages not to collapse on the bathroom floor after fumbling with the door handle. He barely manages to catch himself on the sink counter, at least a little aware that he knocks over the little cup holding various personal items—toothbrushes; a pen for some reason; IV's toothpaste, that he kept telling people not to use—and simply grips the counter as tight as possible.

He can feel the small rift forming in the center of his back—knows it isn't really attached to him and still wondering if he could perceive it; he knows the others can't, not even II, with his gift of infinite and expanding knowledge from Sleep.

II… knows and understands in a way the others—even Vessel—don't and can't and simply tells all of them to accept that Sleep's rift is a courtesy to reduce the strain of Vessel hosting Him. II, in particular, was fond of the few times he was awake at the same time as Sleep, eagerly—as eagerly as he could in his rather perpetually fatigued state—seeking out the affirmations from their god and accepting the gentle tap of a tentacle on his head, likening it to a kiss on the forehead.

III never seemed bothered by the explanation and had simply allowed the curious tentacle-like appendage to coil around his arm, the first time he saw it. He never went out of his way to approach Sleep, instead only taking any attention from the manifestations when they happened to occur near him and never anything more. Always mindful that his hands never got too close to where the rift supposedly formed.

IV had been a bit more forward, his first time; holding his hand out to let it come to him before he pet down the length, either unaware or unconcerned that it sent a shiver up Vessel's spine as Sleep responded in delight to the extra attention. Even so and despite his usual cravings for affirmation and acknowledgement from literally any of the other vessels, IV seeks Sleep out even less than III does. He waits to be invited closer, even when he's aware Sleep is awake and manifested, he waits until Vessel invites him closer—sometimes II will, if Vessel hasn't noticed him—and will wait further, hand outstretched, until Sleep acknowledges him and beckons him closer.

When he finally manages to raise his head enough to look up at his reflection, Vessel finds his skin already flushing an enticing shade of pink and red that slowly spreads over him and a thin layer of sweat starting to form. He feels and sees his tank top move—the shoulder strip first, before the hem gets pushed up. Nothing in the mirror, it simply looks like his shirt moving on its own; but, he can see the dark appendages in his peripherals, coiling from his back as they move over his shoulder. Around his waist.

I did not mean to wake you, Vessel.

Sleep's voice is as intoxicating as ever and Vessel takes a series of slow, deep breaths to try keeping even a sliver of his focus. It always… takes a few minutes, when he first wakes up, to brace himself for the inevitability. He may not have been ready today… but, maybe he didn't want to be, either.

One of the appendages—a black void, little more than an illusion of shadow but definitely with form—slithers over his shoulder and coils around his neck, just tight enough he has to tilt his head back to follow the pull. The two around his waist are resting just above the band of his pants, waiting for Vessel to be able to think clearly, to consent to the continued gesture of praise or to… decline? He's never positive what Sleep is waiting for. Confirmation he was awake? A sign of weakness? He knows the Old One is waiting for verbal consent; but, it always feels like He's waiting for something else, too.

"Humans are sensitive to touch, Sleep, and I am always aware, so that I may serve you in a most timely manner. I would have reacted sooner or later and—" His breath hitches, his knees nearly buckling; the words apparently constitute enough consent that Sleep's prior touches resume. The tentacle around Vessel's neck tightens and coils more and he feels the slick membrane leaving residue behind in the process as the tip trails up to his mouth, tapping the corner lightly in mockery of a kiss. One of the two at his waist manages to push both the waistband of his pants and underwear out of the way, just enough that the other can slither down further, coaxing him further to arousal.

It's all he can do, desperately trying to grip the counter tighter, even when he can't find purchase to do so. "—a-and… we would have woken III. He needs rest."

Do you not?

It's getting harder to think straight. It's only sheer will keeping him from trying to shift his weight just enough he might get a little bit more friction than the languid stroking at Sleep's pace. Only sheer will keeping him from pulling the tentacle near his mouth into his mouth. He needs to stay focused.

"I am your vessel. I—my voice, my body, my everything—is yours to do with as you please, regardless of place and time."

He gave up his boundaries years ago, if he ever had them. At least with Sleep—as His vessel—he has a purpose.

You are so much more than my vessel. If this routine is becoming inconvenient, you need only say so. I prefer my vessels in good health, especially so my most devoted. This is meant to be a reward, Vessel… not a punishment.

"I understand."

He doesn't—well. He does. He doesn't agree, necessarily, but he does understand that the moments Sleep chooses to be more familiar and intimate with any of them—mostly Vessel, although he's extended his praises and offers to the others; Vessel isn't sure any of them, except perhaps II, understand. But when Sleep chose to indulge in this sort of praise… Vessel knows he should consider himself fortunate for such an attentive god.

The words, thankfully, seem to sate Sleep's desire to try affirming anything further. Vessel stays standing by sheer will—the desire not to appear as weak as he knows he is. He lets himself lean forward, trusting the little remaining strength in his arms and the fact Sleep has a hold around him to keep him mostly upright. The appendage around his neck loosens and slides away to turn its attentions elsewhere—moving down Vessel's back and trying to wriggle its way into his pants, as well. Without it holding his head back, Vessel lets his head loll forward, not remotely interested in trying to hold it up. No different than bowing his head during worship and letting him keep his attention fixed firmly on the sink and the way his hair curtains around him, to keep from watching the way Sleep strokes him. Different from a human touch. More like a mouth, in feel a texture, but still not quite the same. Still more than enough to feel something that resembles a positive emotion, even as some part of him continues to insist he hasn't earned this praise.

As though proving he hasn't earned this, Sleep suddenly stops and it's only the pride of his devotion that silences the protest lodged in his throat. This is at Sleep's discretion. If He decides Vessel no longer deserves recognition and reward, that is His decision and is not for Vessel to protest—

Ah, most wonderful, I feared you would not hear me. Please, assist me.

Hear Him? He has to be talking to Vessel, but… that hardly makes any sense—

Before Vessel can form enough coherency to ask for clarification—even as the need to do so leaves a horrible and appropriate taste of failure in his mouth; even as he remains painfully aroused and desperately wanting more than what's given—a new touch nearly does pull the startled scream from him. At the very least, it does elicit a sharp gasp and his attention snapping back to the present in clearer focus. But, he freezes from turning, his attention focused on the mirror and finding III's reflection smiling at him, hand resting gently on Vessel's waist, cushioned between two of Sleep's tentacles.

With the acknowledgement, III finally presses to up to Vessel's back with a soft, airy sigh. He can't see the rift that Sleep manifests from; but, he knows it's there and can see the tentacles and is oh so mindful that he's not flush against Vessel's back, but still close enough the tentacles are gently squished between them and cause all of them to give a delighted wriggle that nearly makes Vessel's knees buckle as Sleep returns His attention to the languid stroking and caressing of His vessel's body.

It's only in that moment that Vessel even realises III's left arm is around his chest, tight enough to hold him up, even as the nails of his right hand dig into Vessel's skin as a slow, shaky breath escapes and Vessel realises that III is receiving the same careful, rewarding attention.

Which… does make sense; Sleep was never shy about extending His praises to the other vessels; they simply never took Him up on the advances. Usually. Even when Vessel tries to encourage them to—reminding them they have earned the praise—they declined and Sleep let it rest for the time. III finally accepting… makes sense and Vessel's grateful because he deserves the reward, but—

"When did you—?"

"You told me to go back to Sleep, remember?" III laughs at his own cheeky answer. Even so, he's clearly distracted as his body rocks in gentle motions to meet the way Sleep touches him and, in turn, ends up grinding against Vessel and pulling a quietly pleased moan from both of them. When he pushes against Vessel's back, this time, still mindful not to trap Sleep too thoroughly between them, he's pushing Vessel down to a more curled over position, almost flat to the counter, with III curled over him, still holding him up but utilising as much of the counter as he can for assistance.

Using the extra support to bring his right hand up, gently brushing Vessel's hair away from his neck. For a moment his fingers simply trace the wetness left behind from when Sleep had pulled his head back; a curious touch, like he's testing the thickness… and perhaps safety for himself, seeing as his next move is to bite, gently, at the back of Vessel's shoulder and then the junction of his neck, moving the bites up oh so slowly until he can nip at the shell of Vessel's ear, just to watch him shudder and struggle to breathe and stay perfectly still. He goes back to Vessel's shoulder, just to kiss the bite mark and follow the prior trail of bites with his tongue flat to Vessel's flesh; instead of another nip, he blows gently as the trail left by his tongue and Vessel finally bites out a short, remarkably pitiful expletive, his chest and entire torso heaving with the heavy breaths, hands curling into tight fists.

He just needs to stay still, it's all a test of devotion and will—

III's breath is warm against his neck, against the trail left by his tongue, "Sleep asked me to help. He said you're being stubborn."

Vessel's breath hitches; but, he doesn't get a chance to protest. A moan escapes, instead, as III bites at his neck again, a little bit harder, and his right hand moves across Vessel's throat, fingers curling gently, the exact same way Vessel does to him on stage.

"You always do so much for us, Vessel… for Sleep. For me. This is not a test and you will not be punished for enjoying yourself. Let me do something for you, even just this once."

Vessel wants to argue.

It's always a test—everything in life is a test—but more than that III always does more than enough. But the protests die on his lips, lost in another moan as III rolls his hips. Sleep has a tentacle stroking him, too, and the motion pushes Vessel further into the counter, pushes his own erection against the counter in the same moment Sleep coils tighter around him.

"May I?" III is quiet. Vessel almost doesn't hear him and the question sounds ridiculous. He already agreed to help Sleep, why is he asking—? "Vessel… I need to hear you say you want me here. That you want both of us here. I need to know you want this and you aren't just catering to me or Sleep. Tell me the truth."

It's only then Vessel realises everything else has stopped. Even as III stays as close as he can, both arms around Vessel like he's afraid to let go, he isn't grinding against Vessel anymore. Sleep isn't moving and most of His appendages aren't even touching Vessel anymore, clearly waiting on an answer, as well. But he isn't supposed to want—

Even as he tells himself as much, as he tells himself it's better this way as III starts to loosen his grip and back away… even then, he can't stop himself from grabbing III's wrist, from keeping him from leaving. The words lodge in his throat, desperate to be said, even as he tries to tell himself to let go—

You are allowed to want, Vessel. He sits up a little straighter and that finally makes him release III when he hears a quiet whine of discomfort from the other vessel. I have told you, many times since you came into our folds. You are far too cruel to yourself—moreso than I could ever dream to be or you to imagine me to be. Even in my infinite existence and my desire to mute your demons, you create more and more every day. You needn't fear allowing yourself a singular pleasure when offered. I believe you will find it most beneficial.

He doesn't trust himself to turn around; but, he can still see III in the mirror, looking more and more concerned in place of confusion. Uncertain he's allowed to offer comfort with how… heavy the atmosphere still feels. He wonders if III feels it, too.

"Stay…" Concern dissipates almost immediately and he looks… hopeful. Hesitant, but hopeful. Afraid of rejection. Afraid he's misunderstood. … He hates the word he needs to say. Want is such… an unsettling and terrifying word. "Please, stay."

III is still cautious, slowly edging up to his back once more. Sleep retracts some of His tentacles back through the rift, until there's only the one around Vessel's torso, one winding down his leg, and two reaching back for III. A moment later he feels the warmth and weight of III pressing up to his back again, just close enough that Sleep wiggles a little bit to show He still can, even as III wraps his arms around Vessel again.

"... I know it's hard for you to say. I get that." He presses his forehead against one of Vessel's shoulders, breathing slow and deep, like he's trying to will himself not to get his hopes up. "May Sleep continue?"

"... Yes." This is easier to answer and he's grateful for the direction and understanding. An airy moan escapes his throat as Sleep's attention turns to his earlier actions; the tentacle around his torso slips back into his pants to resume the gentle strokes, while the one down his leg comes back up and slips down the back of his pants, prodding at and teasing his hole, gently.

"May… I stay?"

"Please."

Immediately, III's attention is back on his neck and shoulder, biting down as his arms curl tighter for the briefest moment. Only a moment before his right hand is helping Sleep, fingers a much more solid grip as he strokes Vessel back to full arousal and his left hand moves up, closing over Vessel's throat. Not tight enough he can't breathe, but tight enough to that Vessel can feel his own moans, tight enough he's forced to tilt his head back once more. All the while rocking and grinding into Vessel to meet Sleep's touches, chest heaving against Vessel's back with each muffled moan and gasp, ever desperate to be as close as possible.

Sleep was intoxicating on His own; III is… a different kind of intoxication. One that made Vessel feel like he was just beneath the surface, surrounded by water and so close to drowning but just beneath, so he gets intervals where he can break the surface and gasp for air before he's dragged back down that little bit.

"Vessel—" III's voice is little more than a whine. Desperate and airy and needy.

Vessel wants to reach back. To reciprocate the generous touches or to pull III around so he's the one against the counter. So he's the one left squirming and weak in the knees and barely coherent.

Two more tentacles catch his wrists—coiling, just tight enough he can't move his hands from the counter, twisting and twining over his palm and through his fingers, like a desperate hold. Not tight enough to be painful but tight enough to get his attention when he feels another winding around and up his neck again, until the tip can trace his lips and he desperately takes it into his mouth this time. Sweet. Wet. Liquid sugar. That little bit thinner than he's used to from Sleep and… definitely sweeter.

It's only when he realises the sensation is mirrored on his dick—slick and wetter than Sleep normally is—that it registers the tentacles don't belong to Sleep. That they're coming from III, that more of the thinner tentacles wrap tight around Vessel, pulling him flush to III's body as Sleep retracts Himself completely back into rift so the two are flush together. It's the grinding and stroking and III biting down on the tender flesh between shoulder and neck to muffle himself, when Vessel doesn't have the same luxury and the expletive echoes off the closed walls around them.

It's barely being able to hold himself up on his own—he's fairly sure he's only standing because of the counter and III still holding him close and tight—as his body gives small, involuntary jerks to process the post-coital haze trying to lull him back to a less aware state. It's a stuttering exhale as the sweetness slowly leaves his mouth and, as it does, the tentacle slowly retracts and reforms into a more familiar hand; all of the tentacles retract into III's body and he simply wraps both arms as tight around Vessel as he can manage, still coming down from his own high and breathing heavy against Vessel's neck.

"That… was new…?" It feels ridiculous to point out; but, talking is keeping him awake, even as he feels something in his chest flutter when III gives a breathless laugh.

"Not really… no one ever asked what—what my gift from Sleep was." Some of his words stutter as he tries to catch his breath. He stubbornly pushes his face into Vessel's neck, nuzzling and trying to nest, the same way he does when he's falling asleep. "… Are you upset?"

"About your gift?"

"That I didn't tell you."

He hums and—with an effort—manages to pry III's grip loose enough that he can turn and lean back on the counter and finally wrap his arms around the other vessel. He looks… worried, but meets the look, evenly, clearly looking for assurance.

"I think it is a wonderful manifestation of a gift. One we can talk about in the later hours." Vessel presses a gentle kiss to III's forehead, then his lips. Chaste, barely a brush of contact but enough that III looks surprised. "You're very sweet tasting, yes. That will be for later, as well. Can you walk?"

III just blinks a few times before the corners of his lips tug into a more cheeky smile. "Should be askin' you that, Ves… your room?" He nods, a bit absently; not quite willing to admit he's still trying to will feeling to his legs. "… Me, too?"

This time he answers by gingerly pushing himself off the counter—he still takes a moment to find his balance—and tugging III's hand, gently, to get him to follow. They barely hit the mattress before III is pressed flush against him once more, arms tight around Vessel's chest and face shoved against his shoulder. He's out cold within moments and Vessel simply pets his hair back.

You should rest, as well, Vessel.

He hums a little, to acknowledge Sleep and lets his eyes close. He knows rest won't come easily.

But, he is feeling significantly better… and is properly surprised that he wakes up in the morning, instead of simply opening his eyes from a restful state.