#the comfort - epilogue

[bernardsbendystraws]

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𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒛𝒐𝒏𝒆

⤷ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒊𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒔

⚠︎  mdni, smut, alcohol abuse, parental neglect, overall mature themes, and more [ this is made for all parts ]

⤷ Get to reading, sluts. No copying. Ask if you’d like to use this as ‘inspiration.’ Fuck off and fuck me, lets get horny!!!

good vibez, Rose Toy

©bernardsbendystraws

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My skin was pulsing with anticipation. I had promised Matt to wear the blue bikini he hadn’t gotten to see me in. In order to prep myself, I had tanned on the rooftop of our place in LA with Nick a lot. Thankfully, I had gotten more comfortable in my own skin. 

The thought of wearing the skimpy two piece of the beaches of California didn’t feel nearly as daunting. The anxiety surrounding skin showing had been thrown far out.

These thoughts got replaced by a new one. 

Matt being unable to keep his eyes off of me. 

He had always been attentive. No matter what, my man was always watching out for me. This included holding my hand, making sure I didn’t drift off in stores. It also happened on a daily basis as he reminded me to eat and drink water. 

Other times…a certain look would catch his eye. It first happened when I bought a really cute mini skirt. Matt couldn’t keep his hands off me, not that I minded. The next time, it was when I was only wearing his shirt and underwear. Apparently, the sight of me sleepy and eating pancakes next to him in his clothes really turns him on. 

I loved when he got so needy. 

He constantly pulled me onto his lap, kneading at my exposed thighs. At times, he would even let his fingers wander up my skirt. When I would call him out, reminding him we were in public, he quickly made an escape plan to land us in our bed at home. 

I was flattered by his antics, but it didn't stop there. I had become obsessed. Addicting was the perfect term to describe how I felt watching him reach out, greedy for my skin. 

He had planned a date for us, a sweet gesture he refused to ever forget about. This time, it was a beach date. A brand new cooler had been set on the kitchen counter earlier as he packed it full of food for us, refusing to let me help. 

I could still hear him shuffling around in the kitchen outside of our room as I tugged on the thin blue straps of the swimsuit. My ears also detected the loud heartbeat thumping with excitement. I threw on a pair of jean shorts and a loose T-shirt, one from the boys merch line that was technically Matt's. Sliding on my birks, I take a deep breath, nodding with approval at my appearance. 

Makeup wasn’t a good option for the beach. I hadn’t put any on. Although I knew Matt found me pretty regardless, but I felt plain without it. The delicate strokes of black mascara defined my eyes in a way that made me feel more confident. The lack of mascara coating my lashes made me feel more naked than the skimpy swimsuit. 

I push open the door, walking out to see Matt leaning over the counter on his phone. The counter is barren of the cooler. “I put everything in the car. Are you ready to go? My god…you look gorgeous.” Matt mumbles. 

My spirit boosts at his compliment. With a little more excitement in my steps, I make my way over to him and kiss him lightly on the cheek. 

“Thanks, baby,” Matt leans a kiss onto my forehead, cupping my cheeks in between his hands before trailing his hand down my arms. As his hands latch onto mine, he lets one string a piece of my hair behind my ear. “--and yeah, I’m ready.” I say.

“Let’s go then, hm?” he suggests. 

He gives a slight nod as he starts walking down the stairs to the front door with my hand in his own. I nearly trip and stumble, clutching onto his shoulder. Matt’s body reacts quickly to the sudden motion, his hands both landing on my waist as I smile sheepishly at him. 

“Sweetheart…” he trails off knowingly, a light chuckle falling from his lips. 

I go to take another step, but my feet are lifted from the ground as he throws me over his shoulder. “Matt!” I whine out. He laughs harder, his hand on the backs of my thighs caressing the skin soothingly. 

“No, I’m not letting you fall down these stairs again.” he points out. 

I accept defeat, hanging my limbs lifelessly as he walks us down the stairs. Walking out the door, he sets me down in the passenger seat of the car. He plants a kiss onto the top of my head, ruffling my hair as I huff and cross my arms. 

“Thank you.” I mutter. 

Matt laughs at my acknowledgment, shutting the door softly as he walks around to the driver’s side of the car. As I sit further into the seat, my eyes bulge from my head. 

“It’s about fifteen minutes for the car ri--what’s wrong?” he asks, noticing my widened eyes. 

The wet, sticky sensation makes me huff out a sigh. “Did Chris happen to spill something? My fucking ass is sticky.” I mutter. 

I hear Matt mutter a curse word under his breath, his hand slamming onto the steering wheel with annoyance. He sucks in a deep breath. I feel his hand caress the side of my arm as I let my head drop onto the headrest of the seat. 

“--’m sorry. I’ll wait in here if you wanna go change. I think I–” 

I hold up a hand, placing it on top of his. “Honestly, I think I might just sit on my shorts and just wear the T-shirt. Everything else I tried to wear just didn’t feel right, ya know?” Matt nods, understanding as I open up my car door. I quickly slide the shorts off, placing them back on top of the seat and carefully relaxing back into the seat. 

A moment of silence passes before I look over to Matt, his eyes entranced on my bare thighs. I smile, bringing a hand up and rubbing his shoulder. 

“Let’s go, baby.” I say. 

Matt’s hand on the wheel moves slowly until he clasps his fingers around my thigh. Letting out a shaky breath, he twists the stings of the bikini. 

“Is this the blue one I haven’t seen yet?” he asks. I hum in response, earning a heavy sigh from him as he grasps at the skin harder. 

I tap on Matt’s hand, picking it up and placing it back on the steering wheel. “You need your hands to reverse, Matt.” I point out. 

Laughs leave through my lips as he shakes his head vigorously. 

“Can we…can we go back inside for a minute? I just…I need to touch you…please.” he breathes out, placing his hand back on my thigh. 

I give him a knowing look with squinted eyes. “Matt…” 

He leans back in his chair, shutting his eyes tightly closed as he sucks in a harsh breath. “You’re…you’re right. We won’t be making it to the beach if we go back inside now, but…god, you’re beautiful.” he says. 

I sway my thumb over the back of his hand. “Thank you, now let’s go, yeah?” I press. 

He nods, pulling his hand off my leg hesitantly. As the car reverses quickly, I nearly laugh at the determined look on his face. Matt shifts the car back into drive, placing his hand widely clasped around my thigh. 

_

Beautiful.

Matt looked beautiful. The sunset was beautiful. Everything was just…perfect. 

The cooler had been stacked full of snacks, nearly empty as we picked through a bag of strawberries. 

“Open up, baby.” Matt says.

I let him feed me the last strawberry, embracing the cool summer air. The sand sinks beneath me and the blanket, curating a crater that leaves me leaning further into Matt’s side. His hand had yet to leave my skin. It typically had been gravitating down to my exposed thigh, often trailing up my arm as a means to pull me closer to him. 

I loved it. 

He made me feel beautiful. The reoccurring thought of not having makeup on hadn't passed through my mind since we arrived.

His wandering touches were needy, his fingers clasping and massaging into my skin. Matt’s eyes stayed trained on me, analyzing the possible outline of my swimsuit from beneath his T-shirt that I was wearing. Well, our T-shirt based on how much I wore it at this point. 

“I…do you wanna get in the water?” he suggests. 

I nod, swallowing back a smile as he shifts away from me. He pulls over his own T-shirt, leaving him in just his swim shorts. I lick over my lips, excitedly standing next to him as I peel the shirt off my body. 

Matt slowly lets his eyes wander over me. His hands think before he does based on his glazed-over expression. I feel his warm touch enclose around my waist, pulling me inches away from him. 

“Fuck, you…you look so gorgeous.” he stammers out. 

I laugh, pushing my palms against his chest. I start walking towards the water, his arm swirling around my waist tightly, binding the movement of my steps. 

“Matt, I can’t exactly walk like this.” I point out. 

Our steps slow, his face burying itself in my neck as his hands graze up and down my sides. His warm breath contradicts the cool summer air. I feel the shivers cover my skin in goosebumps as he lets his fingertips gently caress into my flesh. 

“...don’t care. Just, just need to touch you, sweetheart. God,” he sighs, letting his head fall on my shoulder. 

The feeling of his lips kissing the side of my neck sends a burning sensation between my legs. The greed of his hands lending my gut a swirl of pure bliss that makes me feel lighter. 

“Matt…we’re in public.” I point out. 

Matt’s kisses don’t slow or decrease with passion, instead, I feel his teeth prod with his lips. A gasp shutters out of me. His lips curl into a smile against my neck. 

“Let’s go home, baby. I wanna make you feel good.” he says in a soft voice while grazing my hair behind my shoulder. 

His lips get back to work, adorning the sides of my neck with a growing urgency as his hands grasp around my waist tighter and tighter. I let my eyes flicker open, pushing him back by his shoulders gently. 

“Take me home, Matt.” I whisper out. 

_

The drive home was torture. Matt's hand kept slipping further and further up my thigh. The fifteen minute drive had somehow been shortened to a ten minute drive. There was no time to bring the cooler and picnic blanket inside. Matt had literally grabbed me out of the car, slinging me over his shoulder as I giggled with excitement. 

Our lips proceeded to move against each other as he hovered over me on our bed. The muscle on my face growing tired as the pressure between my legs seems to increase drastically. Matt trails the kisses down the side of my neck, my pulse aching loudly in my ears as heat swarms every part of my body. 

“I…can I please taste you, sweetheart? I–fuck,” he manuavers himself to settle between my thighs. He holds the flimsy blue fabric tie of the bikini, looking up at me. “--I need it, baby. Can I?” 

I reach down, placing my hand over Matt’s as I tug the tie to unknot and fall from my body. Matt eagerly kisses over my hip, his other hand undoing the tie on the other side. My chest heaves in anticipation, my legs clenching around his shoulders to find some sort of release. 

The blue bikini fabric flashes in the corner of my eye as I hear it hit the floor. Matt wastes no time, slinging my legs over his shoulders as his lips trail their way up my thigh. My gut vibrates with anticipation as I rock my hips further towards his face. 

“Is this still okay, sweetheart?” Matt asks. 

I nod my head furiously, whispering out an affirmation of acknowledgement in a desperate tone. In an instant, his tongue darts over the place I needed him most. A noise falls from my lips at the satisfaction, his smooth, slow movements increasing intensity with each passing second. 

His tongue darts around my bud of nerves harmonically with my hips moving in the bed. The pure pleasure oozes from every corner of my mind, focusing only on the bliss of his mouth against me. 

“--mmmm, so good, so good–” The vibration from his voice sends me closer to the edge, my legs closing around him. He keeps moaning against me, his lips sealing around my clit as he sucks harshly. Darting his tongue onto the bud, I let my hands grip his hair tightly. 

“I…oh my god, I…” 

I’m unable to find the words through the heaven of his touch. He hums against me, his hands clasping around my legs and prying them down to keep me in place. 

“--come on, sweetheart. You got it, come on…” he dives back into my folds, the rhythm of his mouth resumed. 

My jaw falls open silently. The muscles in my stomach clench more and more, earning louder noises falling from my lips as Matt drinks in every ounce of my pleasure with sighs of contentment. 

“Tastes so fucking good…so fucking good.” 

The obnoxious slurps increase in volume, his grip getting tighter as body convulses. I look down, seeing his eyes closed and his eyebrows furrowed. He hungrily devours me. The focus imprinted on his face keeps my attention towards the feeling in my gut, a euphoria that leads my head throwing back into the pillow roughly as a broken moan leaves my mouth. 

Riding out the orgasm, my hips slowly roll to a stop. Matt pulls his head up, leaving gentle kisses on my thighs as he spreads my legs wider. His eyes stay trained on the sight in front of him, hesitantly moving his gaze up to mine with a look of desire and need. 

“I…can I just clean you up? Please?” he asks. 

The desperation laced in his voice leaves my dizzy head nodding lazily. “Go ahead, baby.” I whisper between heavy breaths. 

Not wasting a second, Matt immediately lets his tongue wander over my pulsing folds. He leads the pink muscle along me with a softer touch. The tender care of his actions still leaves me nearly crying at the sensitivity, pulling at his hair as he starts to pull away reluctantly. 

His swollen lips press softly along my thighs as he crawls up and lays himself on the bed next to me. As he plops down, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his chest. 

Slowly, my breath evens out. Matt gets up, rummaging through our dresser and coming over with clean underwear and a T-shirt. He dresses me, massaging my limbs before pressing a swift kiss to my lips. I taste the lingering remnants of myself on his lips as he caresses my face in his hands. 

“I kinda want brownies.” I announce. 

At the random statement, Matt laughs with a head shake of disbelief. 

“Okay, sweetheart. We can go make brownies. Anything else you want?” he asks as he pulls me up by the hand, walking us into the barren kitchen. 

“No, I just really need to taste some chocolate right now.” I say. 

Matt turns around. My steps don’t react quick enough, landing us chest-to-chest. “I really need to taste you.” he says. 

I smile, patting his chest with a light laugh falling from my lips. “You can after brownies.” I say. 

Matt’s eyes go wide, his grasp getting tighter on my hand as I try to walk around him. 

“Wait,” I drift my gaze up to him, ripping open the cardboard brownie mix box. His eyes are wide, full of hope. “Really? You mean it?” he asks. 

I hum with a curt nod of my head. He walks over, hugging me from behind. His face slithers in the crook of my neck, his hands sliding down my hips bones and dangerously closer and closer to the hem of my underwear through the shirt. 

“Matt,” I announce. 

“Hm?” he asks. 

I turn my head, making eye contact with him as he stares at me innocently. I hold my gaze to him, giving a knowing look. He accepts defeat, letting out a huff. 

“Fine.” The disappointment is clear in his voice as he grabs the brownie mix bag from my hands, hurriedly dumping it into the mixing bowl. “--after fucking brownies.”

_

After Matt pushes the glass pan in the preheated oven, he closes the appliance door with a smirk. I tilt my head, watching a thought bubble over his mind with a sly pride found in his features. 

“You know,” he stalks closer to me. I feel the counter hit my back as his hands land on either side of me, caging me. “--they have to bake for like thirty minutes.” 

I giggle, pulling him in for a kiss as he picks me up from under my thighs. A squeal leaves my lips as he speed walks us to his room, kicking the door closed before tossing me down on the bed. 

“You,” he slithers his hand up between my legs, grasping the hem of my underwear as he plants his wet lips over my thigh. “--you taste a lot better than fuckin' brownies.” 

[an0nymousmessenger]

When the Sun Rises Again

Five Hargreeves x Reader Synopsis: In which you see a familiar boy with a mannequin at a park after saving the world. Word Count: 2.7k tags. Fluff, Comfort, s4 epilogue continued, more than friends less than lovers A/n: A little continuation of the epilogue of when you see Delores in the end credits with an unidentified person ao3 link

On August 8, 2024, nothing out of the ordinary occurred. It would be no exaggeration to say that this day was completely normal. The sun was shining, and the weather was the best it had been in a long time.

The wind blew gently, rustling the nearby trees and bushes in this small sanctuary.

It was a nice afternoon in August, perfect for people enjoying their outings at a small, lesser-known park. Picnics dotted the grassy areas, and people strolled together, enjoying each other's company.

Laughter filled the air as children chased each other in a harmless game of tag. A couple walked their dog, deep in conversation. Nearby, a man led a meditation session among a group, while a woman sat with her daughter, braiding her hair.

The moment seemed fragile and almost unreal, at least to the eyes of the newcomer. It was a tranquility you weren’t quite used to, and you found yourself struggling to take it all in. Still, you continued forward, focused on one main objective.

You passed the meditating group, the mother and daughter, and many other familiar faces you didn't dare acknowledge. Everything seemed to slow, as if memories from a past time were beginning to overlap.

In the midst of all this, by a rather old but beautiful tree, a few gentle marigolds grew from within the ground, sprouting out enchantingly, showing off their petals to the world. They shined golden, and perhaps with a little magic too.

You took your hands in the pockets of your light jacket as you walked casually with your new sneakers through the grass.

Eventually, you stopped in your tracks, and stared at a specific pair, glowing in the summer’s light. You hesitated, your breath caught up in your throat as some unfamiliar feeling began to bubble in your chest, threatening to overspill.

You wondered if it would be okay to disturb them, questioning whether you should just stay still and take in the scene a little longer. Just for a while. After all, time was on your side this time.

You squinted, fighting against the bright summer glare.

You looked onward, afraid that if you closed your eyes even for a second, the scene in front of you would disappear—that the feeling of the wind and sun had been just your imagination. That the boy sitting there with a gentle expression, one you’d only seen a few times in your life, would vanish with the wind. Fleeting, and brief.

As if he were never there.

A sweet but deceiving dream.

Even if it were a dream, you would be satisfied because, to you, everything was fine. Everything was as it should be.

But alas, the tangy summer scent was real, and the reality you were currently walking through was undeniably real.

So incredibly real.

It was terrifying.

The sun’s warmth shone generously on the pair—a boy who seemed to be in his teens, accompanied by a rather unique mannequin that only had its upper body. They sat at a plain table, enjoying each other’s company.

The boy held a newspaper in one hand and a cup of black coffee in the other. Another cup sat by an empty seat, while the mannequin rested by a nearby tree.

At first glance, it almost seemed as if the two were having a pleasant conversation. The boy looked relieved, his shoulders relaxed, legs crossed in comfort as his dark eyes browsed the weekly news.

It seemed as if he had no worries on his mind, no stress or problems weighing on him. Although his eyes still carried that tired look. It was a look not commonly found in the kids his age. Some would even go on to suggest his eyes give off the feeling the boy was much older than he let on.

But even if that were true, they had nothing to prove such a statement.

You took in this sight with a little sigh, a mental click, as if forcing yourself to capture this moment and lock it away in your heart, hiding it carefully from the world before anything else tried to take it away.

Just in case.

Just for safe measure.

You looked around again before making your way toward the empty seat opposite the newspaper-reading boy. He wore a plain white collared shirt, the top buttons undone, paired with simple dark shorts, giving him a youthful yet old-fashioned look.

As you approached, the boy noticed you and looked up, raising a questioning brow, which greatly amused you.

You gave a small smile before asking in a rather level voice, “Is anyone sitting here?”

“Well, it’s not exactly occupied, now is it?”

A familiar tone of dryness, tinted with a grain of sarcasm, dripped from the boy’s reply.

Your smile grew as you pulled your hands out of your pockets and gestured toward the seat. “Then do you mind?”

The boy, usually armed with harsh and sharp remarks, shook his head.

You sat down and picked up the cup, noticing that it contained your favorite drink, as if the boy in front of you knew something you didn’t. As if he had almost expected you to come and find him.

You brought the cup to your mouth, took a sip, then another, before gingerly setting it down back upon the table, a warm feeling spreading in your chest. Then, you took another look around.

This time, your attention was mainly on the boy in front of you, who seemed a little out of place in such a peaceful setting. The wind gently tousled his hair and rustled his shirt, causing him to clutch the newspaper a little tighter, pretending to be uninterested.

You decided to also pretend you didn’t notice his occasional glances toward you. You pretended you didn’t notice the searching look in his eyes, a habit he tended to have when he hadn’t seen you in a while. A habit of his that you would keep to yourself, hidden away from the dangers of the world.

“It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”

The boy sighed, looking away while taking a sip of his black coffee. “If you say so.”

You leaned against the table, one arm supporting one side of your face as you put on what he dubbed your ‘shit-eating grin’. “Why don’t you play with the kids over there? You know, kids your age.”

With a sharp, unamused glare, he responded, "I'd rather chew on concrete," his voice flat and unamused.

You huffed in your seat. “Somehow, even on such a nice day, you still manage to make it old and boring.”

"Maybe if you raised your standards, you’d actually appreciate reading the newspaper and having a simple drink while at it. But I won’t hold my breath."

“Prick.”

“Amateur.”

You sat up, narrowing your eyes. “Hey, says the one who looks like a–”

“One more word and I’ll have you up in that tree over there.”

“...”

You smirked, leaning in. “As if you could stand being apart from my charming company.”

He rolled his eyes, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Aren’t we full of ourselves today?”

“What? Can’t I enjoy myself on such a lovely morning?”

He scoffed, glancing away from your teasing expression, and mumbled under his breath, “I suppose some people have to.”

You look at the boy, the way he was looking away from you as the tips of his ears turn a slight red. You twirl the cup in your hands that contains your preferred drink, the one you usually order when out and about, and can’t help but think to yourself:

What a liar.

Though, you guess you’ll cut the boy some slack, he after all has worked quite hard for way too many years to count. You’ll let him have this one, just this one.

And so, instead of teasing him anymore, you rest your hand on your elbows and stare at the scenery of the park, soaking in his presence and the fact that he is finally here with you.

He was here safe and sound.

Ah. You suppose you were both liars.

“You're doing it again,” spoke the boy out of the blue.

You turned towards him with a cheeky smile, “What exactly am I doing?”

“That ridiculous face.”

You rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue, “Bleh,”

He gave you a disgusted look as if he couldn’t believe you’d done something so childish, but you couldn’t care less. After everything you’d both been through, you deserved to indulge in such small matters.

Certainly, it was not the end of the world, was it?

He sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before muttering, “I can’t believe I somehow have to put up with you…”

And yet, he made no attempt to move. Instead, he seemed to settle even more comfortably into his park chair.

You paused for a moment, taking in his ‘I’m seriously done with you’ expression before adding, “Yeah, and I’m a grumpy teenager who’s emotionally constipated in apparently every timeline.”

The boy shot you an unamused glare. “I'm not.”

"Yeah, you are."

"Idiot."

His retort was lacking in bite, something you’d come to recognize as his way of showing that he couldn’t find anything harsher to say.

“Fine! Then ask her,” you said, pointing at the mannequin beside him.

The boy let out an exasperated sigh, clearly used to your antics, before turning toward the object of your pointing.

“Delores doesn’t think so.”

"Oh yeah? Is that what she really said?"

He put on a sly grin. "Why don't you ask her yourself and find out?"

You turned toward the mannequin, playing along. "Has he been mistreating you while I've been away?"

He took a sharp breath, his voice dripping with mock indignation. "How dare you insinuate such an outrageous—"

“Oh, you’ll live,” you muttered as you took another sip from the cup.

“Prick.”

“Ass.”

“Annoying.”

“...”

You and he shared a small staring contest before you broke into a fit of laughter. The childish insults hadn’t been lost on either of you despite the years. Even with his usual sharp and witty remarks, it seemed that your banter had devolved into a playful exchange, bringing you both back to simpler times.

He looked at you with an exasperated expression, but couldn’t hide the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards.

But of course, you were unable to see this, too caught up in your own little laugh. This also caused you to miss the way he had briefly looked at you, as if he too were saving this moment in his mind, causing his usually sharp persona to soften, if only slightly. He’d never admit it, not in a hundred years.

The laughter died down, and you noticed the silence that settled over you. You looked up at the boy, finding him already looking at you. A comfortable silence enveloped the three of you, including the mannequin, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft smile.

And he looked at your smile, one that he would never tell you that it made him want to look away as a burning feeling crept up his ears. He’ll never tell you he noticed the light in your eyes as you did so, the way your eyes looked at him made him feel some sort of way. He’ll never tell you it was that smile, along with everything else, that had him crawling through time to get back to you, to see it again.

To see you and his family again, alive and well.

He’ll never tell you that he missed that smile, and he often wondered when he would see it again. He would never tell you that he had gone to your favorite coffee shop and bought two drinks instead of one, he’ll never tell you he had been sitting here all morning, waiting.

Instead, you two simply shared the silence in the distance.

Perhaps at another time, you would do something about this silence, you would reach out, and touch upon all the things you two were too afraid to say.

Perhaps one day, this silence would allow the two of you to be vulnerable without hesitation and caution. And perhaps one day, you’ll be able to reach over to take and take his hand in yours, to invite him to dance with you in the late of night or rain. You’ll both wear a smile, perhaps a tired smile, but a smile nonetheless, and you’ll both be listening to the best 90s bangers of the ages on an old record player.

But at least for today, the two of you will take your time.

Because today, you’d enjoy each other’s presence and the trivial banter. After all, you had all the time in the world.

It had been a while since you last bickered with the boy, much less joked and laughed. It was nice. 

Really nice.

Was it sad to say that this was all you ever wanted? To sit down, share a drink, and talk about useless and stupid things? That you wouldn’t trade this for the world, that you would fight to keep this moment in your hands.

The boy looked back at you before straightening his newspaper, effectively regaining your attention.

“Stop zoning out.”

“My bad.”

He rolled his eyes, muttering something along the lines of how he didn’t go through all that shit just for you to start staring into space and feeling sad or whatnot.

Your foot brushed against his for a brief moment. At first, you meant to pull it back, but instead, you left it there to gauge his reaction. He didn’t move his foot away, and you couldn’t tell if he was ignoring it or deliberately letting it stay there.

You stare at him, silently, before a question tumbles its way from your mind and to your lips, “Are you happy?”

The question lingered in the air between the two of you, like an untouched subject that none of you had dared to ask in the past. It was out of reach back then, and there had been much more pressing things to be worrying about.

And maybe, just maybe, that between you and him, one of these days you can truly rest. It’ll be a day just like today, and the distance between the two of you will be like a distant memory, and you can once again lean on him, as you had always done, and he can melt into you, as he had once done before.

The boy looked away from you and into the distance, observing the lively park as the sun enveloped him in the warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Nothing was out of the ordinary—if you didn’t count the teenage-looking boy drinking coffee with his mannequin and the newspaper he was reading in the middle of a park.

He looked down and smiled, the sun gently caressing his features as a genuine smile graced his face, but of course, it wouldn’t be him if he didn’t try to hide it as he answered in a soft uncharacteristic voice, “Yeah…yeah I am.”

You looked at him, seeing the way he was trying to hide his emotions, and rolled your eyes. It seemed no matter the time or place, he was still the same, and for that, you couldn’t have asked for more.

Perhaps, in a way, this meant the future was bright. That a time would come when this tranquility, so unfamiliar now, would become all you know. Even if today was just the beginning.

You took another sip from the cup and smiled.

“I’m glad.”

Extra.

"Hey, you should tell me where you got these drinks."

"What now?"

He rolled his eyes, feigning uninterest.

"Seriously! I know you bought these for me."

He continued flipping through the pages of the newspapers.

"Oh, did I? And what if I said they’re for Delores?"

You held up the drink.

"Delores prefers lattes, not this."

"Does she? How fascinating."

"Prick!"

He set the newspaper aside and gave you an amused look.

“Fine. I’ll take you there next time. Happy now?”

You don’t point out that this was his way of admitting he did buy the drinks with you in mind, but you’re too content to press the issue. You decided to let him off the hook... again.

[koumystic]

Smiling at each other so casually says enough that this is not their first time doing it.... i really need to know exactly what happened after they woke up

[wistfulvulpine]

an album titled "catching up 👑🧙‍♂️" // glimpses of a peaceful life

[uravichii]

4:17 AM ー shinsou hitoshi

genre: fluff, heavy comfort in the end, self-indulgent !!

cw: (1) mention of "ma'am" i'm so sorry it sounded cute i couldn't help it. that's the only gendered term here tho :') this is for all u tired smarty pants girlies im giving u a bf who'll stay up with u 😡

shinsou hitoshi's favorite thing to do is staying up with you throughout every single one of your all-nighters.

whether it's for an exam, a shit ton of homework, or a group project which, for some reason, you're finishing all by yourselfー he's plopped there on your bed, perfectly behaved and quiet as you threatened asked him to be.

when you ask him why he's so insistent on accompanying you during these ungodly hours when you can't even give him a scrap of your attention at all due to your heavy workload, he simply shrugs and says:

"'ts fine. can't sleep in my own room anyway." hitoshi's lips slightly curve into a smirk. "plus, i like watching over you. you pout when you're focusedー did you know that? cutest shit ever."

you roll your eyes as you turn back to your laptop, frowning at the heaps of unfinished work left. "well, if you bother me, i'm throwing you out of my room, alright?"

"yes, ma'am." he obliges. "coffee service is an exception though, right? back rubs too... if that's not a bother."

you whip your head back at him with tearful puppy eyes of gratitude. it's taking everything in you not to mount your boyfriend right now and pepper his face with little kisses.

he snorts at your adorable expression.

"stop. don't look at me like that. i'm gonna want to snuggle with you, and you won't get any work done." he chuckles softly as you swivel your chair back to your desk. "let me know if you want anything else."

a few hours and two cups of coffee later, he's still there, watching as you hunch over your desk, nimble fingers typing incessantly on your laptop with the occasional cursing of familiar names under your breathー he's guessing you're carrying a whole group project by yourself again.

he glances at the time on his phone, and being the ridiculously observant boyfriend that he is, he knows the exact second you're about to say:

"okay!" you hoist yourself up, slamming your hands on your desk. it doesn't startle your poor boyfriend anymore at this point.

"power nap?" he guesses.

"just for 20 minutes."

"alright, c'mere."

you collapse into his open arms, melting into him as he instinctively starts rubbing circles on your back. he peeks at your already closed eyes. "hey, you set a timer yet?"

your eyes snap open, "oh right." you pull out your phone and clumsily make a few taps before you toss it away, not even bothering to turn it off. "'kay done. g'night."

hitoshi glances at the bright screen. "uh. sorry to break it to you, y/n, but i don't think typing typing '430' on your calculator's gonna wake you up."

"fuck." you jolt up and grab your phone again.

hitoshi watches as you make a second attempt to set an alarm, which seems to have magically disappeared from your phone.

"that's... that's the calendar, babe."

and then another attempt,

"you're dialing 430?"

"well, i can't find the damnー" you shove the phone to him and whine, "you do it!"

he snickers before pulling you closer, caging you in his long limbs and obligingly pulling the phone from your hands "alright, alright. i'll wake you up. you just take a nap right here, hm?" he gently pats your cheek twice before kissing your forehead. hitoshi has always had a habit of babying you when you're all sleepy and snug like this.

he doesn't actually let the alarm go off. you're obviously exhausted, burnt out, and a tad irritatedー the last thing you ever need is having your power nap cut short with that god-awful noise.

instead, you're woken up by your boyfriend rhythmically smoothing his palm down your arm, planting featherlight kisses across your sleeping face.

"y/n. babe, wake up." he gently lifts you up until you're sat up on the bed, your back laid flat against his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist. he props his chin on your shoulder and coos, "sleepyhead. c'mon, you can get all snuggly and cute with me when you're done. right now, you gotta get up and get that gorgeous brain working again. you're not done yet, are you?"

he presses one last kiss on your cheek before you eventually (and reluctantly) rise from the bed, dragging your languid feet across the floor until you reach your desk and start working again almost instantly.

you hear the pads of his feet across the hardwood floor as he walks over to you, draping his heavy arms around you and brushing his thumb against your shoulder, "coffee?"

you give him a tired smile in response.

this cycle repeats two more timesー you crawling in his arms for another power nap, him waking you up in the sweetest, most gentle way possible, and you rising from the bed like a zombie, getting increasingly worn out until you finally stop typing and pass everything barely on time.

you slip into hitoshi's arms again and nuzzle your face against his chest, "'t's done." you mumble, your exhaustion draining out your energy to even enunciate your words.

"really? that's good then." he strokes the back of your head, pulling you closer by your waist. "you okay?"

you instantly start weeping. "no, i'm so tired. i'm so fucking tired. i'm dying. i can't do this anymore. that group project took up so much of my time so i couldn't write my own essay well. i just bullshitted my way for the last two paragraphs. it's awful."

"hey, you never write anything awful, y/n. it's physically impossible for the y/n to write a bad sentence." he continues petting your head as he consoles you.

"i justー" you mumble, your voice muffled by his hoodie as you press your face against his chest, "i could've done a lot better if i had more time."

hitoshi sighs, soothingly rubbing circles on your back. he wishes people didn't expect so much of you. never mind how intelligent and reliable you areー he's sick of people exhausting you like this. aren't you tired, even a little bit, of people constantly taking more than what you can give?

hitoshi's lips pressed on the top of your head as he ponders.

"hey." he calls.

"hm?"

"what if i... extend the deadline for that essay? you know, 'convince' your teacher to set a more reasonable one."

you raise your head to meet his eyes. "what?"

he clears his throat, avoiding your concerned gaze, "what if i brainwashed your teacherー"

"no, i get what you were saying, but i don't think that's a good idea, hitoshi." you frown.

"look, if you're not on board with it, i won't force it. i can't help you with these essays, can i? no one writes as good as you, so i'm just trying to help in any way i can."

"but hitoshi, that's notー" a yawn interrupts your sentence, brimming your eyes with tears. you easily surrender to sleep and snuggle back on his chest, "yeah, you know what? do that. fuck them."

your uncaring teachers be damned. count in your group mates that may as well be dead weights too. sleep and your sweet boyfriend felt less irksome to think about. you'll worry about everything later.

hitoshi snorts at your easy submission, hugging your waist even tighter as he whispers sweetly in your ear, his voice deep and tired, "i love you." he presses a kiss behind your ear, "if only i was half as smart and brilliant as you, i would've helped you with these thingsー you know that, right? if i could write essays as well as you do and my talents were on par with yours, i would've helped you a lot more."

he lowers his head to peek at your adorable, sleepy face before attacking your cheek and neck with smooches, "but you write such beautiful sentencesー how do you do that? what's your secret?" you giggle, both from the validation and his loud smooches.

silence settles over you as you catch your breath from that burst of laughter. he gently strokes the back of your head, feeling comfort himself at the steady rise and fall of your chest against his.

a sleepy mumble of "i love you." was all you could utter to your boyfriend before you start to drift offー you'll coddle him in the morning when you have the energy.

hitoshi smooths your hair back and presses a soft kiss on your forehead. "i love you too. i'm proud of you, okay? if you ever feel like no one acknowledges how hard you work everyday, just know that i'm here, and i see you every single timeー i've never missed an all-nighter, have i?" he snickers, "no matter how delirious and insane you get during these hours, i'm always there."

you chuckle softly and sigh, brushing your thumb softly against his arm.

"hitoshi?"

"yeah? what is it?"

you pause in hesitation, but you say it anyway. hitoshi would love the idea more than you already do.

"what if you brainwashed my group mates too?"

hitoshi smirks proudly. this is when he knows you've been spending way too much time with him.

"give me their names first thing in the morning, babe. i got you."

special tag: this is for @escapenightmare who also recently carried a whole group project on her back gws <3

TAGLIST [1/2] @uxavity @joy-the-reader @kiiraes @escapenightmare @afk-dreaminq @avocamich @theboredvee @wonderwrench @ur-local-simp @p-ol @x0xuglyh0tgrl2005xoxo @cosmonettica @melin-oe @mitzi127 @lilac-o @r2katsu @bakucumsackslut @idunnomynamesince2005 @astralwaifu @taurus852 @creepyproxies @maycat-19-142 @stella-fleurets @veenxys @devilgirlcrybabiey @drawingaddict @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @lexiv-web @angelshimaa @izukus-gf @christiansdior @homosexualjohnwayne @uwiuwi @hirugummies @cupidines @loveisningning (bold couldn't be tagged)

[windienine]

lavender bath

[heylittleriotact]

𝓐𝓵𝓰𝓸𝓻 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓼:

The normal cooling of a body after death as it equilibrates with the ambient temperature.

Takes place immediately following the ending of Act 3 and features Emmrich and Amina taking a moment to themselves after all is said and done. Emmrich takes care of his beloved Reaper, and following a brief discussion about their respective plans for the future, she returns the favour.

Rating: Explicit

Under the cut or on ao3:

The roar of victory was a dull thrum that followed them through the ruined streets of Minrathous, part elation that the Elvhen threat had been bested, and partly devastation for the many lives their success had cost. Amina acknowledged every single person she passed by: hugs and handshakes were reciprocated without question, and condolences were extended to the bereaved with all of the dignified sincerity of a Watcher. It took them nearly two hours to make their way to a damaged but still structurally sound estate secured for them by the Shadow Dragons but if asked, Amina would do it all again 

The ornate doors of the manor closed behind them and the cacophony outside was muffled. Amina took two steps into the manor, bent at the waist, and splattered the floor with the contents of her stomach. 

Emmrich was on her in an instant, holding her long black hair aside with one hand and running the other comfortingly down her back.

“What’s happening? What’s wrong with her?” Taash demanded, taking a step forward. Their voice was distant - drowned out by the screeching whine in Amina’s ears.

She felt her legs wobble and give out, her armoured knees colliding roughly with the ground as she threw out a hand to steady herself, barely registering that it landed right in her sick. Everything was too much. Too loud. Too bright. Too… real. It felt like she was being driven out of her own body like a wayward spirit, her essence clinging desperately to whatever it could hold onto that would tether her here. 

Just as distantly, Amina could hear Emmrich respond to Taash but his words were lost on her as she wiped her mouth with the back of her arm and lurched clumsily to her feet.

“Harding - I need to go to her mother–” Her voice broke: she hadn’t had time… she had intended to visit Harding’s mother in person to check in on her in the days following her daughter’s death, but Elgar’nan - and Solas - had made that impossible.

She clenched her teeth at the sensation of hot tears cutting through the accumulation of grime and gore and sweat on her face, snarling defiantly through the deluge of agony crashing through her, breaking her from the inside. 

There’s still work to be done…

She was pulling away from Emmrich, her course uncharted but steadfast as she attempted to draw strength from that agony as she always had: she needed to go. Somewhere. Anywhere. It didn’t matter, as long as she was doing something… as long as she was helping. But no matter how she pulled and tugged, he wouldn’t let her go: slender as Emmrich was, he wasn’t weak by any stretch.

With some effort he managed to put himself in front of her, gold rings clinking against silverite where he gripped her shoulders before pulling her tight against him. 

“Breathe, darling.” He instructed, enshrouding her diminutive frame in his own. “I need you to breathe… can you do that for me?”

She managed an anguished sob in reply but nothing more: any attempt to draw breath was met with unforgiving resistance as her airways slammed shut in seeming rebellion against life itself.

Arrangements need to be made - things need to be taken care of, and I’m the only one left to take care of them… 

“I’ve got you: you’re safe with me.”

More tears rolled down her cheeks as her eyes clenched shut and she forced a thin, ragged inhalation into her lungs.

“Well done, darling.” Emmrich encouraged, ever calm, ever heartening. “Now let’s try for another one, shall we? I’ll do it with you. Let out your breath on the count of three: one… two… three…” 

She felt Emmrich contract against her as he slowly exhaled with her. None of this was new to her: Nevarran breathing techniques were required learning for Watchers. Claustrophobia could present unpredictably, and if one found themselves turned around or overwhelmed in the Necropolis, being able to stay calm was vital to survival.

“Perfect. Now another breath in…” He waited while Amina drew another shaky breath then loosened his hold on her to gently cup her cheek. Within moments she could feel the familiar soothing tingle of Emmrich’s magic coursing intimately through her, seeping through her overloaded nervous system and providing some relief until another horror blundered into her mind with nauseating insistence. 

“Shit.” Her eyes went wide. “Manfred… Emmrich, wh-where is Manfred?!”

“Manfred is perfectly safe,” he soothed, “He’s in the abundantly capable hands of Myrna and Vorgoth for the moment. In fact, before I left, I overheard Myrna explaining to him Karloff’s Five Principles of Ethical Reanimation.”

“Emmrich,” she rasped, clutching at his chest. “I… I need to–”

“Do absolutely nothing.” He interjected sternly, his voice absent of any playful familiarity or scholarly flair, though it softened almost reflexively as he continued. “You’ve overextended yourself, Amina. You’ve been overextended for some time, but you’ve pushed through to see this to the end - and you have - but my love, you can’t evade the reality of what you’ve been through indefinitely… you need to rest and take time to come to terms with things.” He drew his thumb over her cheek, speaking to her like she was the only person in the room.

“But–”

“It’s so incredibly kind of you to want to give your condolences to Lace’s mother in person, but it need not happen this instant. The… actions of the Inquisitor will be communicated to the south in due course.” He hung on the word ‘actions’ seemingly unsure of its accuracy but ultimately too focused on Amina to care enough to select a different one. “You need to rest,” he repeated.

She opened her mouth to argue, but likely having anticipated this from her, Emmrich spoke first.

“You’ve done so much and helped so many without asking for anything in return - please let me be the one to help you now?”

His eyes searched hers, soft and pleading, and she studied the face of the man she loved: each pleasing curve and angle that she had committed to memory etched on her heart. The crinkled lines at the corners of his eyes, and the creases around his familiar mouth spoke of years of smiles offered to comfort and soothe. 

He was filthy too, and his hair was limp and dishevelled, strands of it hanging into his face… but oh Maker how she loved him…

“I love you…” he whispered for her ears alone, his lips ghosting over hers, “And I so look forward to reminding you of that fact every day for the rest of our lives… so let me begin now: let me take care of you.”

She couldn’t bring herself to speak: emotions overwhelmed her capacity for words. The immeasurable highs and lows had won out, capped off on the highest of highs by Emmrich’s solemn declaration: she would never face anything alone again. The fight left her as she closed her eyes and nodded, and this time Emmrich caught her tears and wiped them away. He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead before turning to the others. 

“She’s in no danger,” he assured them. “The gifts of a Reaper are channelled through a place of deep sorrow and grief where one should not dwell indefinitely: she is merely exhausted, and in light of this ordeal coming to an end, her body and mind are insisting upon rest and recuperation for a time. I shall go with her to find a room and get her settled in.” 

“I’ll scour the pantry.” Lucanis announced without hesitation, already shedding his gore-slicked coat. “A house like this will have a well stocked larder: I cannot do much else to assist, but I will see to it that Rook gets a good meal.” 

“And I’ll find something strong to drink -  I think we could all use one - especially Rook,” Taash volunteered grimly. 

Davrin finished checking over a cut under Assan’s eye, deeming it to be harmless. “Assan can keep her company after I find him something to eat. I’m sure he’d love to cuddle up with his favourite person after a day like today.”

“I’ll make sure word gets around that she’s not to be disturbed under any circumstances - Maker knows there’ll be all kinds of people at the door wanting her attention.” Neve remarked. “She’s in good hands with you, Emmrich. We’ll take care of everything else: you take care of her.” 

Their words echoed in Amina’s mind as Emmrich started to lead her away towards the carpeted stairs. It wasn’t long ago that she would have fought tooth and nail to avoid accepting their help for fear that she didn’t actually deserve it - that she had somehow tricked good-hearted people into thinking that she was worth any amount of concern. But now with this aching, vacuous hole in her chest threatening to devour her from the inside, knowing that she had many sets of arms to fall back into… it meant everything. 

“I love you too,” she said as they walked, the gold rings tied to her boots to alert any nearby spirits of her presence chiming with each tired step. “I love you so much Emmrich, I - I…” Her voice wavered and broke again.

He shushed her gently as they rose the stairs and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips to place comforting kisses to bloodied and dented metal. “It’s alright, darling. I know… I know.” 

They made it to the landing at the top of the stairs and Emmrich loosened his hand from hers only long enough to gesture through the air, causing the lamps lining the long hallway to illuminate with the familiar and consoling green light of veilfire - it reminded her so much of home… their home.

Meandering down the hallway, they apraised a few rooms - a study and a nursery among them - before finding a well-appointed bedroom near the end of the hall. 

The same veilfire that illuminated the hallway flooded the room with a self-assured wave of Emmrich’s fingers through the air, revealing the gilded frame of the largest four-poster bed Amina had ever seen. 

A modestly sized house would have fit comfortably within the textured red walls of the room, and every square inch was bedecked with glittering opulence and expensive furniture.

What had happened to the people who called this place home? She thought of the nursery, silent and dark, her heart sinking further.

“I know…” Emmrich’s sigh was put-upon. “It’s practically a hovel isn’t it? But our only option currently, I’m afraid.” The corner of his mouth twitched upwards in a wry smile and despite everything, she couldn’t help but smile a little too if only for the fact that his dry humour was at its most uplifting when things seemed bleakest: it was a rarely praised trait of a good Watcher to be able to maintain a sense of humour - sometimes being able to laugh was the only thing that could keep said Watcher sane.

He closed the heavy cherry door behind them softly and turned the latch, his definition of ‘recuperation’ clearly non-negotiable to anyone who found themselves outside of the bedchamber wanting to talk to her.  

The silence was inescapable now, contrasting strongly to the overwhelming chorus of sound she’d been subjected to for hours. It filled her head - made it feel full of cotton - and she frowned, standing perfectly still, observing Emmrich as he hung his staff from the rack by the door and shed his bloodied and tattered coat, hanging it with care before turning to Amina. 

“We need to get you out of that armour.” 

He set his gloves on a nearby console table and rolled up his sleeves, agile fingers performing the task with an ease that suggested he hadn’t personally assisted with the culling of a tyrannical elvhen god today. Amina felt her mouth go dry under his perceiving gaze - she’d taken direct blows from Hurlocks that winded her less than the intensity of those eyes. Overwhelmed and at her wit’s end or not, he was capable of sending something in her soul aflutter even at a time like this… that could only mean that she was still alive, right? That she hadn’t laid the last shred of her own mortal conscience on the pyre in the name of saving what little of Thedas remained to be saved?

She swallowed thickly. “I’m experiencing some sort of deja vu, I think,” she murmured, as he closed the distance between them and began loosening her baldric. “Because I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

An amused smile visited his face, his eyes downcast and focused on his task. “We have, haven’t we? I recall that convincing you to allow me to stitch you up on that occasion was also similar to pulling teeth.”

He kissed her again and went back to work, stripping away pieces of moulded metal in silence, shucking away the intimidating, unrelenting shell of a Reaper and exposing the soft, vulnerable person underneath. 

He had made it all the way down to her greaves when she emitted a sharp gasp and clapped a hand over her mouth. 

“My shield! Where’s my shield?!” She twisted in his grasp as if to look around the room for the worn and dented buckler she famously refused to part with. 

Emmrich’s brow furrowed and he worked another strap loose. “It was broken, darling, remember? By Elgar’nan.” 

At his words, the memory rushed back to her: massive fingers curling over the edge of her shield as she held it aloft in the darkness, determined to stand her ground, her body protesting with the sheer effort of keeping her defence up in the looming shadow of her ancient enemy… the sound of metal whining as it bent in that ungodly strong grip and finally shattered…

I dropped it and finished the fight with only my sword and the dagger…

“Oh, right… how silly of me to forget…” she said distantly as Emmrich finished with the greave and rose with a gingerness that at last indicated his own fatigue.

“Details will likely come and go in a disconcerting haze over the coming days.” He parted from her and peered into a secondary room off the one they were in and disappeared into it when it seemed to contain what he was looking for. The sound of running water soon followed and he re-emerged. “Try not to concern yourself with them: they are of little importance right now. You have no need for a shield or sword - we are safe.” He ran a hand down her shoulder affectionately. “I understand that contradicts a large part of your vocational education, but you must trust me. Now if you’ll follow me, we’ll take care of all of that… debris in your hair.”

‘Debris’ was hardly what she would call the grisly amalgamation of fluids and various clumped tissues that would make even the most decay-happy embalmers back home feel squeamish, but Amina took Emmrich’s hand and followed him without complaint.

A gigantic clawfoot tub was filling with water in the middle of the cavernous bathroom, and judging by the calming aroma diffusing through the air, Emmrich had helped himself to some of the scented bath oils that belonged to whomever owned the manor. 

He brought her to the sink and pulled over an upholstered stool from the nearby vanity, placing it in front of the sink and gently directing her to sit, his hand on her lower back guiding her. “The bath will be more relaxing if at least your hair is clean before you get in,” he explained, turning the taps and motioning for her to lean back. 

“Is this supposed to fix things?” Her voice was so quiet and insubstantial over the rushing water - she was surprised Emmrich even heard her as she settled the base of her skull at the rim of the sink basin and he began sweeping her long hair into his hands, wetting it and carefully picking out pieces of marble and bone and viscera as he found them. 

“There is nothing to be fixed, my darling - least of all you, if that’s your primary concern. You know as well as I that our work can be exhausting - mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. It’s why we are well compensated and encouraged to take time away from the Necropolis when we feel we need it. A lesson was learned at some point over the untold years that the Necropolis has existed and people have vowed to serve its departed souls, and that is: one cannot effectively fill the cups of others when their own is dry.” He reached over her and Amina looked up at him, hanging onto his every word. She did know all of this - in fact she’d dispensed similar advice to other Watchers and mourners alike in the past, but… hearing it from someone else… being told that it was alright and that she didn’t have to be strong right now was deeply comforting. “It is not demonstrative of carelessness to the plight of others to think of oneself. I’m of the mind that it’s one of the more selfless virtues a person can aspire to.” 

Amina closed her eyes and sighed, her nose filling with the delicate floral scent of the soap that Emmrich had started methodically working through her hair. “You always know just what to say, don’t you?” 

A tender caress passed over her temple. “I do try. Are you feeling a little bit better? It looks as though some colour has returned to your face.” 

“Now you’re just laying it on thick by implying that my face had any colour to begin with, but yes… I feel steadier, more grounded.” 

“That’s music to my ears, darling,” and indeed Emmrich seemed to sag in relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he rinsed away the lathered soap, his touch unerringly mild. Washing the hair of the deceased required a gentle hand - the follicles on the scalp dilated as the skin began to dehydrate in the hours after death, making it easy to accidentally pull out clumps of a decedent’s hair if one handled it too roughly.

So much of the world thought their calling was one of macabre vulgarity when it was actually an ineffable devotion of love and tenderness when it came to the handling of all things… alive or dead.

Excess water trickled down the drain as he wrung out her hair and gestured for her to sit upright with a light touch of his fingers on her shoulder - he was so good at that - so confident in his ability to impart instructions that he didn’t even need words to make his expectation clear. She turned on the seat, putting her back to him so it was easier for him to weave her damp hair into a braid.

She closed her eyes again and a satisfied hum resonated in her chest as slender fingers stroked through her hair, separating it and passing the strands from hand to hand. 

When he was done, he took her hand and helped her to her feet. “I’ll leave you to the privacy of your bath, but I will remain close by: if you require anything at all, my dearest love, just call.” He bowed his head respectfully, his thumb tracing the soft skin at the inside of her wrist before he turned to depart.

“Please stay,” she entreated, locking her fingers between his before he could step out of reach. He halted. “I… I would rather not be alone right now, if it’s alright with you.” 

He lifted their entwined hands and kissed the back of hers. “Of course. In that case, I’ll step out while you make yourself comfortable and will return when you’re ready for me.” 

Ever the gentleman. He clearly wasn’t going to let their passion in the Necropolis the night before get the better of decades of deeply ingrained propriety. She felt her pulse quicken slightly at the fresh memory of their night together and wondered if the invitation to keep her company while she sat naked in a bathtub made his heart pound too, but a wave of shame crashed through her just as quickly, smothering the heat that had started to smoulder in her belly: people were dead, and now was not the time for such thoughts. 

When the door closed behind Emmrich, Amina clambored out of her stiff, smelly clothing, grimacing as she peeled sticky fabric from her skin. She left everything in a heap and nudged it to the other side of the room with her bare foot, wanting to be as far away from the stench as possible. When she was satisfied, she sank into the bathtub, a purely reflexive moan slipping from her lips at the feeling of relief as warm water enfolded aching muscles. The water was almost instantly dirtied, but she didn’t care - it felt amazing. 

“You can come in.” She drew her braid over her shoulder and folded her arms on the porcelain edge of the tub, resting her chin on her hands. Even if it mattered to her there was no need to fear for her modesty: whatever Emmrich had added to the water made it semi-opaque and it looked very pretty in the light of the veilfire.

Emmrich sat on the vanity stool. “How is it, darling?” 

“It’s perfect.” She found his hand with hers again - it seemed she couldn’t bear to be parted from him for long… not when they’d come so close to losing one another.

“You have no idea what a relief that is to hear.” 

Her lips curved into a smile as she studied him silently, turning thoughts and feelings over in her mind. Her heart was heavy, and her body was spent. People had indeed died - tragedy and victory apportioned in equal measure, but Emmrich was right: she had given as much of herself to the cause as she was capable of giving… and then some. There was still work to be done - the restoration of Thedas would be long and difficult. But it was time to rest and take a hard-earned moment of peace for what it was, even though a persistent voice in the back of her mind screamed at her to cease dallying in the bath and get back to work. 

No.

“Would you like to join me?” 

The question was posed such that it caught Emmrich off guard, causing his eyes to widen and a flush of colour to creep over his pallid skin. His mouth hung open slightly.

“J-join you? I can wait until you’re done - that is to say: finished - I would hate to impose, you see–” 

She listened to him stumble over his words, enchanted by his flustered demeanour until she decided it was time to rescue him, and said, “It’s no imposition at all. Besides, if you’re in the same state as I am underneath all those clothes, I suspect you’ve got bits of darkspawn in places where even your flexible limbs can’t reach: a collaborative approach to bathing would serve us best in this situation.” 

Emmrich’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. “You make a compelling argument, I admit, but–” 

“We had sex in a coffin under the Necropolis last night because we knew the world might end in the morning, Emmrich - I think it’s fair to say that any notion that this is in any way a traditional courtship has gone out the window.” She reached out and popped loose the topmost button of his shirt. “Besides, the idea of having to wait through an entire courtship before I can have you sounds torturous…” her thumb and forefinger found another button, and he didn’t move to stop her. “I think I prefer our abridged approach, if I’m being honest…” she smirked and went for the third button but he intercepted her, graceful fingers catching her wrist.

“That may be the case, dearest, but I still intend to treat you with the veneration you are owed as my beloved.” 

A shiver ran up her spine - it might have been the sentiment - my beloved - or the fact that it was delivered in a tone half an octave lower than usual. She couldn’t settle on a conclusion, but she felt emboldened regardless.

“Then you can start by getting into this ridiculously large bathtub with me,” she whispered coquettishly, and she followed the path of his hand with her eyes as it released her wrist and drifted to that third button, slipping it free with a practised twist.

She felt herself smile properly for the first time that day as Emmrich disrobed and lowered himself into the water across from her: it was real - he was real - and he wanted her. Wanted her enough to occupy dirty bathwater with her without complaint. 

His legs brushed against hers under the water and she resisted the very compelling urge to launch herself at him just to feel his skin on hers as she had the night before. Instead, she grabbed a bar of soap and a sponge off the tray on the side of the tub and held them up. 

Emmrich tilted his head inquisitively but said nothing: the amused curl of his lips said it all. He turned his back to her and slotted himself between her legs and Amina wet the soap and began wiping away the worst of the dirt from his shoulders and back with the sponge. She took her time, relishing the warmth of him under her fingers as she washed away the remains of the day. 

“So… about those plans you mentioned earlier: care to expand on them?” She ventured. 

She didn’t want to think about today anymore, didn’t want to linger on thoughts of Varric and Harding… those would insist on themselves enough over the coming months as she grieved them, she knew that for certain. Right now turning her mind to thoughts of a future that was almost lost seemed like a better distraction.

Emmrich chuckled warmly, the comforting lilt reverberating around the room. “It’s an extensive list, I’m afraid, too lengthy and detailed to summarise neatly in a few breaths.” She squeezed the sponge and sent a stream of water and suds meandering down his arm, tracing the shape of his sharp angles and lissom composition. “Truth be told, I was actually hoping you might render some assistance.” 

“Oh?”

“As you know, I have pupils awaiting my return to the Necropolis: their studies have been regrettably delayed in my absence, not to mention Manfred will require oversight as he embarks on his own educational journey.” 

“But…”

“I’ve rather enjoyed my time beyond the walls of the Necropolis, and now that I’m not… now that I will most certainly…” He seemed unable to settle on a palatable way to say ‘die’. 

“It’s alright,” she squeezed his shoulder softly. “Go on.” 

“Thank you, dear - it’s only that my priorities have been somewhat reorganised given the revised trajectory of my life: I no longer have a theoretically unlimited amount of time in which to see the world, and I find myself wondering if it would be terribly selfish of me to defer the date of my return for a while longer - take a sabbatical of sorts so that I may continue to experience the wonders of the continent without the looming threat of annihilation… with you, should you wish to accompany me.” He looked over his shoulder at her and Amina wasn’t ignorant of the fleeting glance that wandered down to her soapy breasts, nor the desire that shadowed his eyes at the sight of her pale nipples just peeking over the surface of the water. Oh dear, he was getting distracted…

“Don’t know how much of the continent there is left to see after everything.” She wrung the sponge, making a subtle but very deliberate show of pushing her breasts together with the insides of her arms. Emmrich’s throat bobbed and he seemed to win some inner struggle after a moment and looked forward again. “But yeah… I think a break would do us both some good. Besides, ‘seeing the world’ was what I was supposed to be doing anyway before this nightmare started. I’ll go anywhere with you, Emmrich,” she smiled. “Especially if there’s a beach involved.” 

She scooted closer to him, bracketing him between her thighs, finding his skin with hers as she reached around him to start soaping up his chest. Spurred on by the breathy little gasp he made, Amina continued to wash him, kissing up the line of his neck as she did. 

“What other plans would you like to make with me, darling?” She whispered, softly catching his earlobe between her teeth and earning a tantalising whine for her trouble. 

“At the moment, none that are fit for polite company…”

“Good thing it’s just the two of us then.” She let go of the sponge and dipped her hand beneath the surface of the fragrant water, unable to see, but able to feel her way, fingers dancing over his abdomen, following the neatly tended to strip of hair that started at his navel, down, down, down until she found him - and she found him to be rock hard. 

He moaned in earnest now, his head falling back against her shoulder, hand rising to cup the side of her face as she slowly stroked the length of him, humming contentedly, unable to help herself: she wanted him in her, on her, and around her at all times.

“Care to hear about my plans?” She pressed a kiss to the expanse of skin under his ear. “We can compare notes after.”

“Please,” he breathed, eyes closed, a contented smile spreading across his face - the very definition of the cat that got the cream. 

She drew nondescript shapes on his chest with her fingers, lingering on the patch of hair at his sternum, the bar of soap forgotten and lost to the bottom of the tub. “First on my list when we get out of this bath: I’m going to make love to you - slowly… sweetly.” She drew her lower lip through her teeth at the throb of his cock under her fingers and the shudder she coaxed from him when she ran the tip of her thumb over his slit, feeling the slick texture of his anticipation even in the water. “... and after that, I’m going to do it again, and Maker-willing, a third time after that if I have my way…” 

His eyebrows rose, but his eyes remained shut, one corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “Aren’t we ambitious?” He purred, arcing up into her touch a little. “One can’t help but wonder what you’ll do after that…”

“Oh, find something to eat.” She answered matter-of-factly, entirely at the mercy of the rising heat between her thighs. “I expect I will have worked up quite an appetite, you see.” 

“It’s important to stay nourished,” Emmrich agreed, exhaling deeply as she continued to fondle him under the water. “That feels so good, darling…” 

“Good.” She smiled against his skin and kissed his temple. “Because that’s also part of my plan, broadly speaking: I’m going to make you feel amazing for the rest of our lives, Emmrich. Not a single sun will set on a day where you feel alone: your joys will be my joys, your sorrows my sorrows.”

His eyes opened at that and he regarded her with that soft look of utter adoration that he was so adept at. He stroked her cheek and she nuzzled into his long fingered hand. “My dear… that was quite possibly the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.” 

“Delivered whilst pleasuring you no less.”

“You are beyond compare, darling Amina.” He sighed and lazily thrust up into her hand again. “And I daresay our respective plans indeed bear many similarities. I would even go so far as to say they align perfectly.” He sat forward and turned so he was face to face with her again, collecting her arms and drawing her close so their noses were almost touching. 

“Lucky me.” 

He traced each vertebrae of her spine with lithe fingers, bangles clinking together as they slipped down his arm one after the other, his hand finding the curve of her rear and drawing their centres even closer together. She positively ached with need for him as he cradled her face and kissed her deeply, unabashedly exploring her mouth and tasting her with a dominance she was not anticipating. When they parted her lips and cheeks were flushed, her pupils blown wide. 

“I’m going to make a home with you, Rook - that is my plan.” 

Amina considered him - his intelligent bottle green eyes inches from hers, their breath shared, their bodies practically flush. Despite how lust-addled her exhausted brain was, tears returned to her, driven by the sheer depth of Emmrich’s ambitions for them: A home. A life together and all that could come with it if she only dared to dream it - her: the Necropolis foundling who never felt like she truly belonged anywhere or mattered to anyone beyond the basic charity of some.

“We need to hurry up and finish with this bath,” she rasped, her voice low to keep it steady. “I need you. I need you now.” She crushed her lips to his hungrily and breathed, “I love you.” 

What immediately followed was a frenzy of soap and bubbles and water splashing over the tile floor as they finished scrubbing each other down with much less sensual flair than before. The plunger was pulled from the bottom of the tub and they towelled off as it drained, pausing intermittently to passionately embrace. 

“I never thought I could be this happy,” she panted, rising on her tip-toes to pepper his jawline with kisses. 

“Nor I,” Emmrich concurred. He turned her head and buried his nose in her neck, sucking a rosy mark onto her skin, unable to help himself as her hands roamed. He snaked his arm around her waist and hoisted her aloft, racing for the bedroom, her legs tight around him, her entire being coursing with the anticipatory thrill of their imminent union. 

He placed her on the bed with a tenderness that contrasted heavily with the urgency of their flight from the bathroom and prowled over the bed towards her, the inherent grace of his body setting her heart aflame as he splayed one hand over her lower belly and slid her leg aside with the other, opening her like the cherished pages of a beloved tome. He looked positively sinful between her legs, his hair dishevelled and dripping rivulets of water down his neck and shoulders. 

Her breath hitched at the feeling of his lips against her, the soft tickle of his moustache over the sensitive skin at the peak of her thighs. “Ohhh…”

His eyes were locked on hers. He parted her with his fingers, dipped his head, and —

Thump-thump-thump.

Of course there was someone at the door. 

Amina heaved a massive sigh and dragged her hands through her hair in exasperation. She’d seen Emmrich annoyed before - or at least she thought she had - but the look on his face now was one of primly murderous intent: the face of a man whose nearly boundless patience was being sorely tested in this moment. The expression softened, though, when he looked back to her and said, “I’ll see to it, darling - I shan’t take long.” He placed his lips sweetly against her swollen bud - a parting kiss - before sliding from the bed. 

He quickly donned an elegant paisley dressing gown that he snatched from the wardrobe, and Amina knew he would never have considered helping himself to someone else’s things under normal circumstances, but his clothes were in a filthy heap on the bathroom floor, and while they had all grown quite close during their time together, Emmrich preferred to keep some things private. 

She propped her head on her hand and stifled a giggle as he walked past a shelf, flung out an arm, grabbed a book without looking, and arranged it in front of him in such a way that it concealed his prominent arousal. She couldn’t tell who was outside as he opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, so she let her head fall to the pillow and rolled onto her back. It was a very comfortable bed: soft pillows, expensive linens.

Terribly comfortable. 

Weeks of broken sleep caught up with her all at once as she fought to keep her eyes open: she was so tired all of a sudden. 

So incredibly, inescapably tired…

If Lucanis had drawn any conclusions about the reason for his state of dress or his wet hair, he kept them to himself but for the briefest arching of a brow as he handed Emmrich the tray of toasted cheese sandwiches and bid him a long and restful night of sleep. Emmrich wished him the same and watched the Crow disappear back down the stairs before retreating into the room and locking the door again.

“Lucanis managed to scrape together–” he looked towards the bed and paused: Amina was sleeping soundly on top of the comforter, her face peaceful and unvexed: a rare sight indeed. Something in his chest pulled as he watched her even, deep breaths, her mouth slightly open as she slumbered. 

He set down the sandwiches and the book very carefully on the console table, not daring to make any noise that might startle her awake before making his way over to the bed and positioning her under the blankets with the same amount of care, manoeuvring her battered and scarred legs so she was covered and warm.

She had such plans for the evening, but as he shed the dressing gown and slipped into the bed alongside her, he was grateful that she had found rest at last: they had the rest of their lives to make love.

The veilfire light in the room was snuffed with a wave, and as he curled around her in the dark, losing himself in the scent of her, he found his own respite in the rhythm of her heart beneath his hand and the unpromised gift of tomorrow. 

[hypoclericalcunt]

El is NOT dying yall cmon, get it together.

[strawbubbysugar]

Epilogue concepts… hrm

[starmocha]

dude no joke, zayne's breeding kink must be insane. he's no angel but he's a responsible doctor who very much knows what birth control his gf takes and if she's on something that messes with it. no condom but they're safe. until she's on antibiotics due to an injury. he's devoted, he's made her cum 3 times now but when he goes to pull out, she begs him not to and he just breaks. breeds her again and again, showering her in kisses, praises and more fucking 🤭😍🥰

is this my sign to start the Zayne 3-part breeding kink series /hj

[bernardsbendystraws]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒛𝒐𝒏𝒆

⤷ 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕

⚠︎  mdni, smut, alcohol abuse, parental neglect, overall mature themes, and more [ this is made for all parts ]

⤷ Get to reading, sluts. No copying. Ask if you’d like to use this as ‘inspiration.’ Fuck off and fuck me, lets get horny!!!

good vibez, Rose Toy

©bernardsbendystraws

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. In fact, I had never felt so betrayed by someone who made me feel so loved. I knew he was upset, I knew his day was rough, but none of that made the words spitting from his lips hurt any less. 

The event relapsed in my mind like a broken record player. A haunting memory declaring the start of something new–something that belonged in a wretched horror movie. 

Something I had never even imagined he would be able to do to me. 

Matt had always been sweet. The honeysuckle words dripped from his mouth like raging rapids in the woods. 

Not right now, though.

A bitter sour taste coated my senses, a lingering burn of humiliation still draining from my eyes and down my cheeks. 

LA so far has been beautiful. Great memories that had been documented in photos, journals, and some even traced new tan-lines on my skin. Only three months in and the heavenly glory had seemed to fall to hell in one day with one short statement. 

“Maybe I don’t want to talk–did you ever think of that? Or are you the only one allowed to do that, hm?” 

Words that had been spat from his soft, gentle lips. Words laced with so much anger that frustration reached from his eyes, pushing my weight further into the floor as I shrunk into myself. 

Matt had known how heart wrenching it had been for me to leave my blood father on his deathbed with not a single ounce of my forgiveness. I had tattered on the decision for weeks, letting the possibilities of regret sway my restless body in soft sheets, only finding relief in his arms. 

He knew how much it hurt. He knew how much I was trying to heal each day. Yet, the anger rid him of any filters, letting the free-flowing rage rain down on me like a drowning wave of the sea. 

My feet acted before anything. I had traveled to the bedroom–our bedroom. My watery eyes glanced over the pictures of us at the beach, smiling with love at each other. The Matt in those pictures stood tall with an aura of care and sweetness. Now, the same Matt stared down at me with a rage, letting words pierce wounds in the scars of my heart. 

I was still in his T-shirt, unmoving as I curled into the fluffy duvet. Hours had passed with nothing but complete silence. He was supposed to give me comfort, but his eyes pushed on my heart with a devastating weight of sadness. 

Does the truth come out with anger? 

Did he mean it?

Is that what he really thought? 

The lingering questions kept me up in the paralyzed state of time. The morning sun had now drifted to a hovering glow slightly above the horizon. My stomach rumbled with hunger, a feeling that I hadn’t had to feel since the days where my blood father would steal my money and spend it on liquor. 

He made me feel like him. 

Would I even be able to forgive that? 

My swollen eyes squint at the clock, the foggy numbers glowing on the screen. 

4:00 A.M. 

I had heard soft knocks on the door occasionally. I didn’t know whether they were Matt, Chris, or Nick. Either way, I stayed motionless in the same spot. However, the soft knocks had now continued for over twenty minutes. 

“Baby, please…just let me in…I…please.” Matt whispers out on the other side of the door. My heart weighs heavy in my chest at the hopeless tone in his voice. The endless waterfall of tears slowly halting from a numbness brought by dehydration and fatigue. 

The stiff joints in my fingers clench onto the pillowy duvet tighter, the first movement other than my neck in the passing hours. His broken voice makes my sadness falter into a desperation for his sweet comfort of relief. 

“Please, I…just please, baby, please. I’m so sorry,” his voice is muffled by the door as I find my feet reaching to the ground, carrying silent steps to the door. My hand rests on the handle, the slight movement of the metal seeming like a roar in the quiet hours of the night. “Sweetheart?” he asks, a new found hope in his voice creating a tighter grip between my hand and the knob. “Can you open the door for me?” he voices. My teeth start to clamp down on the inside of my cheek with hesitation. “--please?” 

The sullen word finds the string attached to my last hovering thoughts as I twist the knob. The lock coming undone makes my heart pulse as I feel the rush of cooler air wave through the opening crack of the door. 

As the gravity pulls the door open, Matt comes into view. My lip starts to quiver as I take in his appearance. He leaned against the doorframe, his hands lifelessly skewed by his side. His eyes meet mine, the pale moonlight refracting the familiarity of his pale, blue eyes that seem to be contrasting the redness surrounding his irises. 

“I…” his eyes flicker downward, a sniffle sounding as he wipes his nose. “--can I come in?” I slowly nod, opening the door further before walking back towards the bed. 

As I sit down, I hear the door click back in the hinges. I look down, staring at my hands as I anticipate the mattress to shift with his weight. 

It doesn’t. 

Instead, I watch as Matt gets on his knees in front of me, placing both his hands on my knees. His pleading eyes reach mine as my gut clenches with anxiety. “I….I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that. There’s no excuse. I had a rough day and I took it out on you—and, fuck,” his voice breaks as his eyes fall to his hands rested on me. “It’s not okay. I never want to make you feel like…this. I am so sorry. I understand–” he chokes on his words. A wet, hot sensation runs onto my thigh. I look down, holding back my own tears as I watch the water flow from his eyes. 

“Matt.” I whisper out. 

He takes a deep breath, biting in his shaking lip. “I…I understand if you can’t forgive me. I am so fucking sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I, fuck, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me, even if it’s not today. I just, I….baby, I,” his head falls on top of his hands on my knees, a soft cry echoing as his back shakes with the sadness consuming his body. 

My hands reach out, weaving through his hair through habit. I freeze, realizing my movements. 

“I love you so much, I, I want you to be happy, I’ll spend the rest of my life earning your forgiveness, I just–please, I–” 

The motion of my hands resumed, calming his cries. Matt pulls himself up, gently grabbing my hands and placing them back in my lap. 

His eyes stare down at them while I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. “Don’t. You’re—I don’t deserve your comfort right now. I’m sorry, I’m trying not to cry…I have no right to be upset over my own actions. I hurt you.” The admission leaves him breathless as he sucks in a harsh gulp of air. “I, please say something.” he says, his pleading eyes reaching mine once more. 

The broken expression on his face plants a humbling regret in my thoughts. My wet cheeks curl into a sympathetic half-smile and fall quickly, “I, I can’t say I forgive you, Matt.” He nods, looking down with shame. I bring my hands out, cupping his damp cheeks. As our eyes meet, I fight back tears. “But, I want to. I–I know you, Matt. You’ve given me so much love, too much to be consumed by this one mistake. I just…” I tail off, admiring the sigh of relief falling from his lips as he lets his head rest further into my hand. 

The silence consumes us. His hand sandwiches mine against his face. The labored breaths of fatigue echo as a new found peace clouds the air. “I love you….so much. –’m so sorry, angel.” he whispers out. His head turns as he pulls my hand to his face. His lips kiss along my knuckles, soft and gentle. I let myself bathe in the feeling of his comforting love, my heart feeling lighter with each passing touch. 

“Can I—can I hold you?” he asks. The hope in his eyes glimmers with a halo of the stars, a sight imprinted in my memories with the pure bliss of love. 

I nod, watching him climb on to the bed as I muddle myself in my thoughts. No pride left, just pure devotion as he snuggles me into his arms. The cage of his limbs provides security as I nuzzle my face further into his chest. His lips kiss my forehead, lingering for a long minute. 

__

“Wake up, baby, wake up.” The soft whisper of his voice brings my eyes to focus on him. The subtle sunlight dancing on his features like art. My heart skips a beat, reviewing the redness lingering in his eyes as I remember the previous conversation. 

“--’m sorry, didn’t wanna wake you up, but you haven’t eaten in too long.” The grumbling of both of our stomachs sounds, a tired haze of comfort making me nod my head further into his chest. 

“I got food delivered to us, all your favorites, but I need to get up, okay?” he asks. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, looking around as I analyze our position. A blush covered my face as I slid off of Matt’s body, which I had been clinging onto like a koala. 

Matt gets up, bending down and brushing the hair out of my face. “--so pretty, give me one minute.” he suggests. He pulls up the covers, tucking them below my chin as he plants a delicate kiss on my forehead. I relish in the soft gesture as he quickly rushes out of the room. 

My eyes glance over at the clock. 

4:00 P.M. 

With widening eyes, I rub over my face. Normally, we would have woken up a couple hours earlier. Although, I’m sure both of us had been so fatigued our bodies forced us to basically hibernate the day away. 

I turn my head towards the door as Matt marches in with a paper food bag in one hand and two cups in the other. I smile, reading the brand plastered on the brown paper. Matt kicks the door shut with his foot softly, setting the cups on his nightstand and the bag on the comforter. 

After getting everything settled, we had both begun eating in a tired silence, our starved bodies shoveling the breakfast food into our mouths greedily. “Thank you, Matt.” I say, leaning my head onto his shoulder as I pile the last bite of french toast into my mouth. 

“Of course, baby. Here,” He pushes some of his chocolate chip pancakes to my lips. I take a bite, savoring the familiar taste of sweetness. I hum with gratitude, too lazy to speak as I lean further into the crook of his neck. I hear him shuffle the remnants of the breakfast on the bed, watching him toss the trash filled bag onto his nightstand. 

My eyes falter with confusion. Matt was never the type to leave any messes, especially not food. I pick up my weight, attempting to lift my head off of his shoulder. Matt’s hand softly encloses around me, holding me down to him with a soft whisper. “Hey, let’s just go back to bed.” he suggests. 

“What?” I ask, utterly confused. “--the mess, Matt. You hate–” 

He cuts me off, “I don’t care about that right now. I just–I need to be with you. Let’s go to bed, sweetheart.” 

The thumb in my chest quickens, registering the honeysuckle ridden words falling from his lips. My lips tug into a smile as I let my eyes softly flutter closed. 

My sweet Matt. 

[thimbleandakiss]

Old Wounds and New Scars

Vi & Sevika

Request by @loulooser: Hey is there a fanfic of Sevika and Vi meeting post-S2 just to talk now that everyone is gone. Cause like. She knew Vi as a little kid and watched Powder grow up when Vi couldn’t. I need to read this.

Summary: At the party Piltover throws to welcome the very first councilor from Zaun, Vi and Sevika talk about Jinx.

Content: Mild cursing, implied drinking, reminiscing

Cross-posted to Ao3

It felt too soon.

Too soon after the war. Too soon after watching the last hope Vi had of having her family back die in an insultingly colorful explosion. 

And yet… she and Caitlyn had been expected to attend. Attend the party welcoming the new Councilor Sevika. The spot on the Council had originally belonged to Cait’s mother, after all. Every time she thought about it, the name made Vi’s jaw clench. 

The grand event was held in a large, open-air pavilion, the setting late spring sun just warm enough to make it possible. Vi’s only consolation was that Cait hadn’t made her dress any particular way, and the familiar weight of her leather jacket kept her just grounded enough not to start picking fights. 

This wasn’t her kind of crowd. The champagne glasses clinking, the fancy dress, the high-pitched tittling of laughter. At least Sevika also stuck out like a sore thumb. 

That made her easier to avoid. 

Cait had told Vi that an open invitation had been issued to Zaun for the party, but clearly, not many bothered to show up. 

That gap would take far more than a party to bridge. 

During one of her side-long glances to track Sevika’s location in the room, Vi made the mistake of accidentally catching her eye. The older woman jerked her head towards one of the exits and disappeared. 

Fucking, great. Vi’s hands clenched into fists. Did she really want to have this conversation here, now? Was putting it off any better? 

As much as she resented Sevika… She had information Vi desperately wanted. Information on all the years she missed. 

Cursing under her breath, Vi placed a hand on Cait's shoulder, murmuring that she’d be right back, and followed the newly appointed Councilor onto the veranda overlooking a garden. 

Sevika had her arms crossed and propped on the railing, not bothering to even turn her head at the sound of Vi’s approaching bootsteps. 

She looked… different from the last time she and Vi had talked. New hair, new arm, new scars. Well, ‘talked’ was generous. It was more like Vi had kicked her ass, and she took no small amount of satisfaction in noting that one of the aforementioned new scars was courteous of yours, truly. 

Vi turned around, leaning her back against the rail and crossing her own arms across her chest. They were both silent for a while, the sound of the party slightly muted, now. 

Where do you even start? How do you have this conversation, especially with someone you’re on… less than good terms with. 

It was Sevika who broke first. “Listen… we don’t like each other.”

Vi scoffed, mumbling something under her breath Sevika chose to ignore. 

“ But ,” Sevika continued, her tone a little biting before letting out a strained sigh, “I’ve known you since you were a kid. You and Jinx. And I think… if Vander could see you now–” Vi tensed at the sound of his name from her lips, “–he’d be proud.”

Vi stilled. It felt like the breath had been knocked right out of her. Her head snapped to the side, brows furrowed in confusion and… maybe just a little bit of hope. 

“That’s the one thing you and I have always had in common,” Sevika said, her expression unreadable. “We’ve always been willing to do whatever it takes to protect those we care about most.”

“Lot of good it did me,” Vi muttered bitterly, casting her gaze to the ground once more. 

“You think I didn’t lose people?” Sevika retorted, her shoulders stiffening. “Think what you want about me, but I cared for Jinx.”

There it was. That damned name again. Just hearing her name had a tide of grief welling up in Vi so strong it threatened to black out all the light in the world. She swallowed thickly, stuffing it back down. Not here. Not now. 

“Jinx…” Vi said, voice tight, “What was she…”

Sevika let out a huff that might have even bordered on affectionate. 

“Crazy,” Sevika says bluntly, and Vi can already feel her instinct to defend her sister rearing its head, “Probably the most insane person I’d ever met. But… good. Once she found something worth being good for.” 

Vi relaxed slightly. “Isha?” Sevika nodded. 

“She loved that girl to pieces, gave up everything to give her the childhood she thought she deserved.

“She was also one of the smartest girls I’ve ever met. You could give her a toothpick, three pieces of wire, and a can of spray paint, and she’d find a way to make it explode.”

Vi’s chest warmed slightly, and she found her lips quirking up a little. 

“Took her a while to get there,” Vi mused, “When we were kids, she’d be lucky to get a puff of smoke.”

“She made me my second arm, you know,” Sevika told her, shifting so she was leaning sideways against the banister, facing Vi. “After you busted the first one.”

There was nothing apologetic in the grin Vi gave in response. “Whoops.”

They talked for a little while longer, talking about the people and memories they hadn’t even realized they’d shared. 

By the end, Vi felt like… something in her chest had healed. It wasn’t all better, far from it. But… some of that dull, ever-present ache eased a bit. 

Cait’s voice calling for Vi finally pulled her out of the moment, and she pushed herself off the rail. 

She was going to just walk in, leave the veranda like nothing had happened. Instead, she paused, and after only a moment’s internal debate, placed her hand on Sevika’s shoulder. 

“Welcome to Piltover, Councilor.”

If Vi didn’t know any better, she’d say Sevika smiled in response.

[a-sound-sol]

too close for comfort // h. shinsou smau

fic m.list | hitoshi m.list | blog m.list

Profiles - Characterizations - Relationships - Epilogue

hitoshi’s tinder profile!

y/n’s tinder profile!

Characterizations and relationships:

Hitoshi is a shy, a loser, but he can be smooth. he's a lover boy, but he's scared. loves skating and smoking w his buds. loves cats. introverted but likes company.

Y/N is bold, sarcastic, a bit blunt, but kind. loves art, rollerblading, and works at a cat cafe. extroverted introvert, yaps around trusted people.

Denki and Hanta are Hitoshi's coworkers at the Skate shop. Hanta is also their plug, and he's Y/N's plug.

Hitoshi has only met Kyoka once, and has never met her roommate. He hears about her sometmes, but not much.

Kyoka is Y/N's roommate.

Epilogue

Hitoshi didn't want to try dating apps. He couldn't think of anything worse, actually. The only reason he agrees to make a profile is because his coworkers, Hanta and Denki, wouldn't stop bugging him. As Hanta put it, "if Denki can get a girlfriend, you can too."

Sure, when Hanta put it that way, it seemed easy. But Hitoshi had never been great at dating OR hookups. He always got attached, and he always got hurt. He agreed to sign up for tinder so his friends would shut the fuck up.

"why are you going by Shin?" Denki asked, scrolling through his friend's profile. The trio were at their usual smoking spot on the roof of their skate shop.

"Huh? Oh, I dunno. Thought it would be better." Hitoshi mumbled as he pulled the lit joint from his lips, exhaling the smoke.

"I like it dude. Keep 'em guessing. It's mysterious" Hanta nodded, taking two puffs from the joint as Hitoshi passed it to him.

"Lives in the past is kind of a hard line" Denki added before tossing Hitoshi's phone back to him.

"I think it's lame" Hanta added, "but lame dudes get cool girls all the time."

"Yeah, case and point," Hitoshi gestured to Denki.

"True, Kyoka chose me for some reason and I'm grateful every day" Denki pressed his hands together, staring at the sky.

"Do you guys even think I'll find someone on here? I don't know if I wanna waste my time again with this shit," Hitoshi sighed.

"Just give it a shot, you never know who you'll connect with dude" Hanta encouraged him and Denki nodded.

"Fuck it, here goes nothing."

Later that night, Hitoshi ends up swiping through profiles. Sure, there were plenty of attractive people in his area, but their vibes just weren't right.

Just as he was going to give up, a profile caught his eye.

"Y/N, huh?"

He looks through your photos, scrolling to the last one with your cat. He belly laughed, something he doesn't do very often. He thought you were cute, of course, that's no secret. But that photo said more about your personality than your profile did. With that, he swiped right.

The next morning, Hitoshi woke with a notification that he had a new match. Now, it was up to him.

taglist: @moonstonejpg

[numberoneredriotfan]

OKAY!! I read a translation of the epilogue and I'm gonna be so fr. I loved it. I really did. I just loved seeing class A interact again, as adults! I'll never stop talking about how much I love Uraraka helping kids with their quirks. It really is just. Perfect.

I love that Deku and Bakugou were kinda playfully bickering like siblings?? Lmao?? I think that's really cute. However I will agree and say that they did Bakugou SO dirty oh my god. Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight deserves better than this (15th spot is crazy at least give him a top ten spot god damnnnnn). Bro got rejected too that's insane. JUSTICE FOR BAKUGOU KATSUKI!!! (I assume in the future he gets a higher rank once he matures a little).

As for Izuocha kinda maybe becoming canon. It's like. Kinda out of left field?? For me at least. I honestly would've liked it if Horikoshi had just left it ambiguous but it's not a crazy deal breaker for me. That confession (?) was really cute though I'm sorry. ALSO TOGA PUSHING OCHACO TO LIVE HER LIFE THE WAY SHE WANTS TO BECAUSE SHE LOVES HER IS SO UGHHHHHHH TOGA THEY COULD NEVER MAKE ME HATE YOU!!!!!!!

Overall, I really liked it and I think it's a nice addition. Though, I would've preferred a few mini chapters of silly shenanigans with the class but yk. Still loved it.

I was worried that it would be horrible bc people kept complaining about it. I can understand being upset about Bakudeku not being canon (fuck all the dudebros being like "those crazy bakudeku shippers🤓"), but I don't think that ruins the ending?? For me at least (then again I like Bakugou and Deku more platonically than anything else soooo). Also, it's not really an ending more so like an extra chapter so take it or leave it. Besides, this is why we have fanfiction.

Very upset that Rody wasn't there though honestly fatal writing flaw/j

[thecosywinteremo]

*clears throat*

I watched 765874: Unification.

So.

THEY WEREN'T ALONE!! YOU SPEND LONGER WITHOUT YOUR SOULMATE THAN WITH THEM AND YOU'RE DYING ON A PLANET THAT WAS NEVER MEANT TO BE YOURS AND THE YOUNGER VERSION OF THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE IS OFF SOMEWHERE STARTING A DANCE AROUND THE OTHER YOU AND YOU'RE DYING ALONE AND THEN THERE HE IS!! Your t'hy'la, come to get you. Your husband, your life partner, come to take your hand (to kiss you, firm and present and so, so comforting) and take you HOME. He's HERE! You're together!! After all hope was lost, again again the impossible to bring you together!!!

And you're dead! You've just seen your past, your present, Eden, loved ones, all of it guiding you to the great unknown. To the great KNOWN. To the greatest known, maybe the first person you'd think to want by your side, to HIM! Maybe you don't understand, maybe you know you're not staying here, but it doesn't matter. You KNOW him, inside out. He's here, so where else would you be. He holds you. You face it, like anything, like everything you've overcome and everything you should have, together. You've reached the end, TOGETHER. The way maybe part of you never thought you would. YOU SEE HIM AGAIN

[lanaevyssmoved]

i just have feelings about how gales good ending is becoming mystras chosen again and gaining her forgiveness and she just. gets away with putting him through hell for a year+ with his isolation and trying to figure out how to feed the orb and then consuming artefact after artefact all the while she could have stopped it at any point but she was too mad at him to even tell him the truth of it all. she just gets everything she wants in the end