#there's just so much to consume and feel delighted by lol

[stormyweaver]

taking a break from my silent screaming to type up a proper reply. i'm also doing a readmore mainly bc i don't wanna have spoilers to the fic to pop up on someone's dash who hasn't read through yet (which, if you're reading this and you haven't already what're you waitin' for?! GO GO GO!)

There is SO MUCH. So much I loved. I'm gonna try and touch on everything but just know this story as a whole is an absolute TREAT.

Okay first of all, I adore Delta and Omicron's dialogue. There's just something so satisfying about the concern/care Delta's showing mingled with juuuust the right amount of amusement, and it's PERFECT parallel to O's snark and current misery/mortification. So many times I went back and forth between feeling sorry for O and just wanting Delta to keep offering him tissue packs.

That fit once they're at the resort? Oh dear GOD i have never been struck so speechless. I could feeeel the relief flooding through me AND THEN HE GRABBED HER ARM AAAHHHH Josaline is currently living out my fantasy and listen, listen if she IS the antagonist I still am all for her living her best life IS THAT BAD--

And the shower scene. Oh. The palpable release. *chef's kiss* Both satisfying in O actually getting to let off some steam and also indulging my humiliation kink lol. The perfect combo!

Also THERE'S A HUSBAND?! DUN DUN DUUUUUUN

also also is Voster trying to explain to O what I think she's trying to explain to him because- if so... NOPE i'm gonna be patient and wait. like a patient person would. yep. *gnaws on the bars of my cage*

I truly cannot wait to see where this goes, and reading that you already know what's going to happen just has me so giddy for the next installment! Tbh there's more I could say but for now I'm gonna re-read bc this is now my favorite snz fic ever.

OH WAIT ONE LAST THING bc i wasn't sure: Do you have any inspiration for Omicron appearance wise? You've done such a lovely job of giving us little tidbits without actually giving him away, which I enjoy because I can piece together a vague idea without having to stick to one particular look.

That being said, IF you had any references I would definitely not say no to viewing if you'd ever wanna share :3

Best Laid Plans - Part 2

Details: 12k, M sneezes, M/F (for now..)

Summary: A secret agent is going undercover for a few days, and his target has a sneeze fetish. It’s time for him to put his research to the test.

PART 1 - PART 2 -

AAAA EVERYONE ♥️ I am overwhelmed TwT. Thank you so much for sharing your likes, comments, reblogs, asks, and tags QwQ. My original stuff means a lot to me, so I’m really, REALLY touched that people enjoyed this!! To everyone who left kind words, you give me soul power 💕 I hope this part hits as hard as the first one did, and that you all like it!

Also wanted to quickly shout out @themiseryandcompany, @bestwhumpist, @juxtaposedrose, and @stormyweaver for going so hard in the tags!! Seriously kicking my feet and squealing, I felt spoiled by your commentary, thank you so much for all the love🥹

These are original characters, all in their late twenties and early thirties!

(Warnings: Unrealistic science, Mess Lite™, fake contagion themes [nobody can catch this cold], exhibition / humiliation themes [main character gets horny in public], feeling pleasure from sneezing, masturbation).

THIS STORY IS NSFW!

-

It was a little after 1930 in this timezone, standard military time. They’d started their final descent to the landing strip with the beginnings of a sunset smeared across a cloudless sky. And during the flight, Omicron learned three key pieces of information.

Firstly, he absolutely could not stop sneezing. It was simply impossible. He’d swaggered to his plushy recliner with hubris and paid for it about 57 minutes later after dutifully repressing every single rising urge that niggled his sinuses over the course of the hour. It grew and grew in him, increasingly worrisome in its size, until the tickle was just too strong to hold at bay. No amount of snorting, nose blowing, or finger rubbing would ward it back.

It forced him at metaphorical gunpoint to the closet-like bathroom, blindly staggering through tears and wrenching hitches, where he dropped to a crouch and then to his backside with almost a dozen cataclysmic sneezes. Each one worked his lungs like a bellows, dizzying him until he saw spots, winding him until he felt breathless. By the end he was wrecked, and clinging perilously to his self control. He realized then that his sneezing wouldn’t bring him to orgasm alone; it could only lead him to the edge and trap him there until he finished the job himself. Which he obviously couldn’t do in the agency’s aircraft lavatory.

So. He gave up on the ‘don’t sneeze until the jet lands’ plan.

Instead, Omicron washed his face, dried his hands, and resigned himself to minding his nose’s whims. His original hypothesis was correct - if he did nothing to deter his sneezes, they’d come at regular, but controllable, intervals. This remained consistent as long as he didn’t make the other critical error.

Which led him to the second issue: if his mind strayed too far toward anything sneeze-related, he armed the tickle with more ammo. His sneezes became unwieldy if he held them back, yes, but they also magnified to arousing proportions if he imagined literally anything tickling his nose. This was the hallmark of Dr. Voster’s virus - the ‘suggestion sneeze.’ So to avoid a case of blue balls, Omicron did his best not to ruminate on the ceaseless, beckoning sensation that lived in him now. This was by far the most trying aspect of his predicament.

And the third and final bit of info was an exasperating realization: Agent Delta was a chronic and committed blesser even in these circumstances.

“H-ah.. DZSshuh!” 

“Bless you.”

Omicron resisted the urge to rub his nose, and instead treated it to a dab from his beleaguered tissue. Any motion more substantial than that would goad it into further misbehavior. He wasn’t interested in another stumbling trip to the bathroom.

“Sir.” He sounded as congested as he felt; his voice was locked up in his sinuses. “You really don’t have to bless me every time.”

Delta patted Omicron’s knee. The two of them sat side by side, despite the sea of empty seats around them. “Aw, Omicron, you keep saying that. I really don’t mind.”

I mind, groused Omicron. That’s why I keep saying it. His gaze drifted to the porthole window and all the little, passing structures beneath. The ground drew closer meters at a time, just as the tickle, yet again, tugged him closer to a conclusion he’d given up fighting. He blinked wetly against the sensation, then let his eyes fall shut. The image of the tiny cars cruising down below lingered, each one speeding undeterred to a destination. They were perpetual. Indefinite. And it was far beyond Omicron’s ability to stop their momentum.

He felt the tickle lurch forward, ripping his breath into a shuddering, “-hUH!hh.. mbb..” Omicron swatched his finger beneath his nose, pausing when the tickle reprimanded him with a lancing spark. “eh-HEH!..hh..”

Hurry up already, he chided with a daring snub to his nose. His nostrils pulsed erratically, aggravated, and another gasp shivered out of him. “h-hh-hh.. HAH-TZSS!sss’uhh..”

“Bless you!” chirped Delta.

It was a particularly unsatisfying sneeze, and ridiculous as it was he felt mocked by his own nose. Omicron sniffled, sniffled again, trying to flare the tickle into action. But it wouldn’t budge. He dug at his eyes with his palms.

“Does your head hurt?” asked Delta.

Omicron dropped his hands and leaned his head back against the seat with another defeated sniffle. “Ndo, sir. Mby head doesn’d hurt.”

“Do you need more tissues?”

His fingernails bit into the palm of his hand. “Ndo, sihHH-”

Unwilling to endure another hygiene lecture, Omicron flinched both elbows to his face and kept his nose there. He heaved through a series of increasingly yearning breaths, light on the inhales, heavy on the exhales, shoulders lifting and dropping each time he thought the sneeze might grant him mercy. In the end it left him wanting. He dropped his arms and panted, eyes still closed, cheeks streaked with tears.

Delta cleared his throat and Omicron lulled his head in that direction, squinting through sticky eyelashes. His superior held a fresh pack of tissues in offering, and Omicron’s cheeks heated. How many of these did he bring??

He didn’t snatch them, but it was a near thing. Delta’s smile tilted with sympathy, and Omicron prickled like a wet cat. “You can vent your complaints to me if you want, I don’t mind.”

“Not sure what you mean,” he muttered through gritted teeth, scrubbing his nose with intentional strength. It stung, but served it right. 

“It’s okay to be grumpy, Omicron.” Delta spoke like he was soothing a startled horse. “I’m sure this is a tricky situation to manage.”

What remained of Omicron’s professional decorum disintegrated, and he snapped with a waspish, “What would you know?”

Delta’s eyebrows flew up and Omicron’s blood flashed cold. He hadn’t meant to say that. 

“P...Pardon mbe, sir,” he mumbled and lowered his tissue with a sniff. “I apologize. That was uncalled for.”

“Yes, it was,” Delta agreed, his tone contemplative. “But it was also very out of character for you. I’ve seen you stay composed during triage for a gunshot wound. Just what about this has you so out of sorts?”

Admitting to Delta that there was more to this than simply sneezing - disclosing the induced erections that were slowly eroding his self control - would be professional suicide. Even if this side effect wasn’t Omicron’s fault, it was his responsibility to manage. This was a chance to prove himself, and if he screwed it up he’d never get this chance again. That’s just how it was at the agency.

He’d have to lie. Lie until he could deflect. 

“Dnothi’g, sir,” he said. “It jhhust tih.. iih..ckles-hh..hH..” Omicron’s eyelids fluttered and he crushed his crumpled tissue to his face. 

Please, please, please, he found himself begging as the itch crawled around behind his eyes. Give me a good one.

Against his better judgement, a smoky silhouette sprung to his mind’s eye. Something lithe and graceful, skulking through his nasal passages heedless of the sorry state of them. It glided across raw nerves, pausing to snuggle against their warmth as Omicron sliced his lungs with a gasp. Then dragged the breath back out on a groan. Fuck, he could feel it. Could feel the dimensions of the tickle as it prowled and pawed, arched and sprawled, coy in its torture. He could feel his nerves recoil, his nostrils spasm - a panicked cry for action.

“h-YEH!hh..oh.. hh-HEH-” 

Omicron panted as the tickle receded, plumeing into an indistinct but irritating mist. Like a phantom it spread through him, coating his quaking membranes as it drifted deeper.. deeper.. deeper still. It filled his nose with a sensation too ambiguous to do much more than hopelessly itch. His hiccuping breaths eased to stillness; he was trapped on this plateau, punished by a tickle that wouldn’t grow. It merely wanted to endure. A bit frantic, Omicron tried to grasp onto a more solid visual. It didn’t matter what it was, it could be anything, just so long as- 

“Agent Omicron?”

The torturous mist evaporated, leaving his nose singed and no longer imminently sneezy. It took substantial restraint for Omicron not to pound his armrest in abject, miserable frustration. He blew his nose in defeat, raked his sleeves over his cheeks to clear the tears, and sniffled. His nose squeaked in reply. 

“.. I don’t think I can adequately communicate how annoying this is, sir.”

“Well, it really must be a bother if it’s making you pout like this.”

Omicron puffed up in offense and casted for a snide reply before he remembered that this was his boss. He bit his tongue, figuratively and literally. “It’s true this is testing my patience,” he said, “but I assure you that it won’t impact my performance. I’ll achieve nothing less than exceptional results. And respectfully, sir, I’m not pouting.”

Then he shimmied in his seat to face the window.

Agent Delta considered him with a skeptical eye, and as someone who knew the extent of his subordinate’s gifts he was right to do so. Deception was something of Omicron’s specialty. Trained in the art of information extraction, he excelled at becoming whomever a target wanted to see: a cautious creative type, a severe and dismissive businessman, the gullible boy next door or the leather-clad motorcyclist your friends warned you about. This ability, among other qualities, landed him this case.

But tricking a stranger he’d researched for weeks and swindling his superior officer were two different beasts.

“As you say,” Delta conceded to Omicron’s back. 

The jet’s landing gear grazed the runway.

+ + +

The destination was tropical, but close enough to a coastline that the heat wasn’t stifling. Their resort hotel was nothing short of opulent, offering amenities such as: a grand carpeted staircase, bellhops in uniform, and over a dozen glittering chandeliers. They’d changed into their civilian clothes before entering to better blend in. Well, blend was a strong word for Agent Delta; he wore Bermuda shorts with an equally garish aloha shirt printed with hibiscus flowers. Omicron doubted it was an officially sanctioned garment. He himself donned something understated - khaki shorts, boat shoes, and a white v-neck t-shirt. A pair of gold aviator sunglasses sat on top of his head.

He’d done what he could for his nose. When he caught sight of it in the jet’s bathroom mirror just before they deplaned, he could understand why Delta kept needling him. The skin was blushed an obscene red, the color deepest at his nostrils and fanning out across his septum, cupid’s bow, and as far up to the bridge of his nose. He also hadn’t been aware of how much it moved on its own, incessantly prodded by the tickle inside. Looking at himself too long just made him feel sneezier, and Omicron had braced his hands on the bathroom counter with helpless hitching until he coughed out a single, underwhelming, ih’BZSch!

Now watching Delta check in at the front desk from across the hotel lobby, Omicron tempered his trembling nostrils with a touch of his index finger. Settle down, he bargained. Stop teasing me.

His phone vibrated against his thigh. It was a burner; he got a fresh phone for every assignment and didn’t keep a personal cell. A glance at the number told him exactly who it was. He lifted it to his ear.

“Make it quick, Doctor,” he said. “I’m onsite.”

“Well, hello to you too, Mr. Grouch!” Dr. Voster trilled. His mood further soured at her enthusiasm. “New phone again, huh? How’d you know it was me?”

“I memorized your number.”

“Because I’m your favorite?”

Omicron wrinkled his nose. “I memorize all my numbers. Don’t get excited.”

“You really know how to make a woman feel special, O.”

“Did you want something?” he asked, eyes on Delta as the man chatted amiably with the clerk. His nostrils twinged and he gave them an appeasing rub. “I’m busy.”

“Just checking in. How’s your nose doing?”

As if to answer, the tickle squirmed. Omicron snorted reflexively and rubbed more sternly against his sore septum.

“You’re calling at..” He checked his watch. “..1:15 in the morning your time to ask about my nose?”

“Your viral load should be pretty high by now,” she replied, sounding wide awake despite the hour. “I want to know how it feels.”

“It feels-” He’d been gearing up for a snarky remark, but it died on his tongue. Between one breath and the next something changed. His nostrils slowly flared, grazing his finger where it rested against his lip.

“… it feels?” prompted Dr. Voster.

To his credit, Omicron tried. “I-hht.. h’tzuh..” 

But then his eyes flickered shut as he became entranced by that incurable tickle. It advanced slowly, enormous in his nose, lumbering forward and promising him a bounty. The swell would have intimidated him if he hadn’t been waiting for the better part of a day. He dropped his finger from his lip and braced his hand against the wall instead. If this was as big as it felt, he’d need it to stay on his feet.

“hUH-… ugh..” A sharp sniff, and a mutter under his breath. “..chhome on.. h-hh-!”

Fuck, it was oppressive. Omicron cinched his eyes tightly shut as he eased a breath through his tingling nose. It didn't hasten the advance, only threw gasoline on a raging fire. The tickle licked at his nasal nerves, which began to spasm in alarmed reply. Suddenly he was gulping down air, hitching so loudly it felt lewd.

“hah!hh.. uHH!h.. HUH-.. HUH-.. HUH-!”

The fire burned on, colossal and all consuming, demanding so much of him that his lungs filled to the brim. He could feel his head ratcheting by degrees, twitching back even when he could take no more air. If he could open his eyes, he’d probably see the shimmer of those fancy chandeliers. The tickle seethed for an agonizing moment. A quiet ache of pleasure twisted his gut. And then-

“WRRUZZSSSSHOOO!!”

Ecstasy. 

“HHHH-!.. RRIHSSSSCH’YUU!”

It scraped through him thoroughly with a crack of throbbing relief. Dazedly, he hitched anew. In, in, in-

“h-hH-HH-” And out in one fell swoop. “HPT’ZSSSCHOOO!!..nnngh..”

Omicron thanked himself for the foresight of leaning against the wall. Otherwise he’d probably be on the ground, or at the very least staggering aimlessly as his sneezes tossed him around. His nose didn’t seem to know what to do, other than grant him another.

“HAH’DIZSSSH’uh!”

And another.

“HEH’YIIZSSCHOO!ohhh..”

He gasped for breath, the hand holding his phone routing to his sternum. He could feel his heart hammering, his chest heaving. Each time he sneezed, his abs clenched. And with each release, a cloying ache spread through his groin. He was probably erect by this point but-

“Hih-.. HIHBISSSH’YAHhh!”

He didn’t want to stop. Omicron breathed deeply into the tickle, feeling it paint the inside of his nose with a swath of sensation. Something speared into his sinuses - the probing tip of a paintbrush, a thin piece of twine, a fiendish little intruder intent on undoing him.

“IIH’TIZZSCH’iu!!”

His lungs emptied and replenished themselves with another single, flowing breath. Despite his light-headedness and unsteady legs, Omicron felt himself smiling. 

“HHHH!.. EHJZZSSHUE!!’hhhooohh by god..”

It resonated pleasantly, like he struck his body with a tuning fork, and the trancelike need to sneeze, gasp, sneeze finally ebbed. The tickle receded, mollifying his nose in its tide. He could still feel it floating around in his sinuses somewhere, sated for now but impossible to fully satisfy. And of course his dick wasn’t satisfied in the slightest. His balls ached terribly. He’d had the good sense to arrange himself before entering the hotel lobby, fully aware he might find himself in this predicament in public. Again.

A voice spoke intelligibly, muffled against his shirt. Oh right, the phone. He put it back to his ear.

“What?” he panted.

“Did those feel good?”

He sniffled and fended off a full body shiver. “Don’d all sdeezes feel good?”

“Mm. Yeah.” Her tone was weirdly stilted. “Well. So. This is awkward, but I might have-”

Omicron tuned her out as he gathered himself. He was in dire need of a tissue, and he’d caught his own shirt in the crossfire of those last few sneezes. A quick scan of the room confirmed that just about every guest and employee saw him letting loose without even an attempt to cover his mouth. Many people were staring, including Agent Delta. The man was agog, but as Omicron stared back, he got the prickling feeling that it wasn’t him Delta was looking at. It was a second after that when he heard who exactly caught his superior’s eye. 

“Bless you.”

He clocked the voice before he turned, which gave him a split-second to prepare his expression. He arranged a look of chagrined surprise and hung up the phone on a still-nattering Anita.

“Oh!” He jumped, and flashed a shy smile. “Thagk you.”

She was taller in person, with legs a mile long and hair falling in thick waves to her waist. She wore burgundy lipstick, accentuating the plush shape of her mouth. A voluptuous woman, her Bohemian ensemble framed her curves and flowed around her like a modern renaissance painting. Her jewelry spoke of wealth, her painted nails spoke of elegance, and her eyes concealed a careful fire. 

She held out a pair of sunglasses. Mine, Omicron realized.

“You dropped these.”

He took them from her with a chuckle. “Ah, jeez, that’s embarrassi’g.” He sniffled and didn’t miss her swift glance at his nose. “I really mbade a spectacle of mbyself. Sorry about that.”

“Not at all,” she said. Her voice was dark velvet, soft and sophisticated. “I’m sure you couldn’t help it.”

Omicron juggled his phone and his sunglasses, keeping his eyes on her as he unearthed a half-empty package of travel tissues. He kept up his sniffling, in part for her benefit and also because his nose dripping onto his shirt was an imminent concern.

“Yeah, I’b kind of a mbess todahhy..” He tried to keep his eyes open even as they fogged with emergent tears. His voice scratched against a tender throat, tremoring around little hitching hiccups. “I do-hh!T huh.. don’t eved doe where th.. hh-hH!..mbghh, where all thad came fromb I-hhH!.. ndormally don’d sdnee-”

It overpowered him suddenly. He just barely rushed a tissue to his nose in time.

“hiH’TISsh’oo!” Back to the regulars, and just one didn’t quite cut it. Omicron huffed his way to a second. “..uh.. hck’KSSH’u!.. ugh..”

“Bless you,” she said.

That took care of the itch (for now). He wavered on his feet, fawn-legged from his earlier fit, and muttered a guttural “Pardod be” as he ducked away to noisily blow his nose. It took several tissues before he deemed himself presentable and by the time he got all the used ones shoved into his shorts pockets, he turned back around to see his sunglasses being offered to him again. 

Omicron chuckled hoarsely as he took them from her. “I should probably start carrying a spare pair, at this rate.”

There was an amused tilt to her lips. “Perhaps.”

He shared in her smile until the pause between them stretched a little too long. Then he jolted into awkward conversation. “Ah, um- where’s my manners, jeez, I’m Nicolas.”

Nicolas Foster, his cover for this operation: an under-the-weather tourist in town for a destination wedding.

She inclined her head to him gracefully and held out her hand. “Josaline.”

Josaline Jewel, his target: business mogul of the fashion world with a clothing line, makeup brand, and lucrative designer bag collection all sold exclusively online. The agency suspected her of extensive cybercrime; Omicron’s job was to uncover any signs of money laundering, malware manufacture, or identity theft.

“I’d shake your hand,” he said with a self-conscious scrub of his palms against his shorts and another self-deprecating laugh, “but I’ve been sniffly all morning, I’m sorry.”

“Oh?” Again her gaze flashed to his nose when he wrinkled it with a sniffle. “Are you not feeling well?”

He sniffled again as he fiddled with his sunglasses, bashful. “I’m still hoping it’s the jet-lag, but it feels like I’m coming down with something, yeah.”

He punctuated this with a wrist swipe beneath his warm, chapped nostrils. They flared to caution him against further meddling. Josaline crooned in sympathy.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Doubt it, he thought to himself as he offered a warm smile. “That’s really sweet of you to say. Thanks.”

Omicron researched sneeze fetishes as thoroughly as he cased intel on Josaline Jewel. Operatives observed her engaging with unfamiliar men at industry events or galas, escorting them off the dancefloor and into private quarters. All these men had two things in common: they were shorter than she was, and they were at the time afflicted with sneezing. Though she didn’t seem deterred by illness, the agency lacked further details. To fill his void of knowledge, Omicron dove headfirst into a world of niche kinks; he read and watched a towering amount of sneezy content, some of it about fictional characters he’d never even heard of. But he left the experience a more educated man, enlightened and prepared to perform. Now it would be a game of discerning Josaline’s preferences.

“What brings you to town, if I might ask?” Josaline asked. She took a hesitating step in her peep-toe wedges and Omicron followed the cue to walk with her.

“A friend’s wedding,” he said, and it became obvious that his increasingly wet sniffles required maintenance. He sighed as fished around for his last clean tissue. “He’s an old college buddy, super nice guy. The wedding’s not until next week, but I had some time saved up at work and the flights were cheaper on weekdays, so..” Tissue acquired. “..I guess it worked out pretty well.”

“Do you enjoy traveling alone?” she asked, setting a sedate pace across lush carpet and spotless tile. “I find it invigorating, but it can be a little lonely now and then.”

He blotted gently at his nostrils. They fussed at the treatment, jerking and fidgeting against his fingers. Yes, that’s right, Omicron goaded. Tickle me. Go on. The virus humored him, unfurling and sauntering forward with ambition. Instantly his eyelids got heavy, and his voice grew heady.

“Oh, I couldn’t afford this place by mys-.. mys-hhelf..” He kept the tissue tucked to his face this time, muffling his voice and obscuring her view of anything but his fluttering eyes. “I’m hhuh-” 

The tickle got to work, trailing feather-light fingers along his nasal walls. They writhed, trapped and helpless to the whims of a persistent itch. It stroked sensitive places, unhurried and secure in the knowledge he could do absolutely nothing to stop it. He tried to speak around the buildup, each breath a little blip or sigh he couldn’t repress.

“Ho, sorry, I’m rooHH-!.. uh.. rooming with another frihhend whose… als-uHH’h..H-H!” 

He paused as the tickle escalated, now lounging indulgently as it guided him to a gasping high. Its approach was always rhythmic, an everlasting titillation that magnified as the tolerance of his nose diminished. Omicron shot Josaline an apologetic glance over the edge of his tissue and found her looking right at him. For the first time she lost composure, and hurriedly ducked behind a lock of her hair.

“.. Are you alright?” she asked, staring at the floor as they continued to stroll.

Omicron cringed through another playful swipe of the tickle, like fingers made purely of fluff skimming up the length of his nose. He gasped hugely, certain it would come, but then let it out on a near-moan. “..ohhh, sorry- it’s this cold, I-.. Iyyiieee..HH! iG’GZZSCHhu!”

It was a little stronger than he thought it would be. Instinctually he flashed a hand out and anchored his grip to whatever was nearby. The tickle gave him another long, firm stroke and his nerves begged mercy. 

“HIH!PPSSHh’oo!” And another lancing tickle, like washing your car with a sponge, running your hand along a cat’s back, a frictionless glide but it was malicious in its softness and it agitated his nose into rebellion. With one hand, Omicron sealed the tissue more tightly over his nose and mouth. “MMPPHSssh!”

He emptied his remaining air in a desperate blow. His nose tingled with temporary relief. The single, brave tissue did its best, but he’d absolutely need to wash his hands and find another fresh package as soon as possible. Picking his head up, he balled up the trash and knuckled his nose with his fist.

“Sorry, that was gross, I’m-” Genuine anxiety prickled in him as he looked up and realized his other hand was clasped firmly to her upper arm. That was an accident. Omicron flinched away and clung white-knuckled to his disguise. “-SO sorry, oh jeez, I really didn’t mean to grab you like that, I wasn’t- I just, I had to sneeze and then it felt like it was gonna be a big one so I-.. guess I reached for whatever was around, I wasn’t thinking…”

Josaline stood and silently let him run out of steam. A molten heat pooled in her irises. A rose tint glazed her cheeks. She lifted her purse, an understated but expensive clutch with a golden chain, and popped it open.

“Not at all, Nicolas.” Her words melted from her lips. “I truly don’t mind.”

She slipped a swatch of white fabric from her bag and shook it. It unfurled like a flag of surrender, and she held it out with a coy smile. He lifted his finger once again to his nose to graze it just beneath his itchy nostrils and felt a telling touch of moisture. His ears flushed and her smile grew.

“Oh gosh, sorry, that’s..” Cupping one hand over his nose, he reached with the other. “Thank you, Josaline.”

Omicron took the handkerchief and paused when she didn’t let go. Their eyes met.

“I do hope this won’t be the last we see of one another,” she told him. 

Just behind her, the elevator dinged. He blinked, only just noticing where exactly they were. She stepped back into the gilded lift, leaving him with her handkerchief and one last view of her burgundy smile. Then the doors closed. Omicron dropped his shoulders and blew a slow breath from his cheeks. Initial contact: not a catastrophe. Step two: arrange a serendipitous rendezvous.

Agent Delta appeared beside him. Omicron was certain he’d watched it all from a covert corner. He spoke softly, so as not to be overheard. “This is going swimmingly. Well done.”

Omicron ignored his heart’s little leap at the praise. He didn’t like to count chickens before they hatched. His mind raced to assemble all that he’d learned, the pieces of what intrigued her. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Nicolas.” Omicron looked at him, and resisted shooting the man a withering glare when Delta brightly grinned and said, “Your nose is running.”

“Yes, thank you, sir,” Omicron snipped. “I’m aware.”

He tucked into the handkerchief. It was a balm to his sore nose after so many cheap tissues. The cotton was of superb quality, probably with a thread count higher than his bed sheets back home. Omicron nuzzled into it to snuffle and blow; seconds later, he realized with dawning dread that this was the wrong thing to do. For while this handkerchief was freshly laundered, it was also steeped with an overpowering perfume.

The tickle took umbrage with this. It bristled in his nose like a startled cat, sinking claws into his tender membranes and whipping its tail angrily against the sensitized border of his sinus. He couldn’t even suck a breath in before-

“Tssh! Ih’TSsh!.. HSH’u!” He ripped his nose away from the handkerchief, holding the cloth away from him with revulsion. “Hih’KSSh!.. h’KZSh’iu! Ugh!”

“Ooh, bless you, bless you.”

The handkerchief disappeared, and without any other options, he buried his nose into the prayerbook of his hands.

“IHPsh!.. h’PZSsch!.. fugk, ednough, plhHE- HH!BZSSh!”

“Bless you!”

At last it abated. He could imagine the tickle huddled far back in his nose, growling low as it continued to lash its tail. Omicron sniffled behind his hands and coughed from the effort.

“It’s impossible to say whether she doused this intentionally or not,” mused Delta, studying the handkerchief. He tried to pass the offending item back to Omicron, who shrunk away from it. He didn’t want it anywhere near his nose. “She couldn’t have known you were allergic.”

“I’b dnot allergic,” Omicron argued through gritted teeth. Delta gave him a look that plainly said, I don’t believe you, but I’ll humor you because you’re irascible and sneezy. Omicron fantasized about strangling him with a garrote. 

They took the elevator up in silence. Delta passed over another package of tissues and Omicron plowed through several of them. More garbage to add to his pocket collection. He’d have to unload once he got to his hotel room, and used tissues weren’t the only load on his mind. His erection had yet to flag. It was easy to ignore during his conversation with the target, focused as he was on his work, but with nothing to distract him Omicron was getting tense and eager for alone time.

Which is why he balked when Delta tried to follow him into his hotel room. Omicron stopped just over the threshold. “Is this your room?”

“It’s our room.”

Omicron’s grip tightened on the doorknob. He’d been lying when he told Josaline he had a roommate. That was his cover story, yes, but not the actual plan. “I thought we were bunking separately.”

“I’ve reconsidered,” Delta replied, and while his tone was light there was a finality to his tone. “Sharing a room will reinforce our cover, and given this is your first high stakes case I’d rather stick close to support you on the ground.” He fixed Omicron with a pointed stare. “Unless there’s a reason you’d rather not share?”

Oh, you bastard, he seethed. You know what I’m going to say. Delta was already suspicious - giving him anymore ammo would just worsen things for Omicron. His hand slid off the knob. “Of course not, sir.”

There were so many reasons Omicron would rather not share a room with Agent Delta. He preferred solitude over company, silence over noise, and Delta was the opposite. The senior agent prattled about nonsense while awake and he snored very loudly while asleep. He hovered around Omicron all evening and compulsively blessed his sneezes and bullied him into watching crappy reality television shows. The hotel room was excellent, but small; there was no opportunity for privacy. The silver-lining was that there were two beds so they didn’t have to share.

After unpacking, discussing tomorrow’s plans, and sharing an array of delivery boxes from Panda Express while they watched some inane matchmaking show, Omicron collapsed into bed with a heavy head. All the congestion settled behind his eyes, and both nostrils were blocked as soon as he reclined. He jammed the charger into his phone with stuffy grunts of exasperation and then noticed the flurry of missed calls and text messages from Dr. Voster lighting up his screen. They were hours old, most of them berating him for hanging up on her and demanding that he call her back.

But it was late, he was tired, and surely by now she was asleep. He’d catch up with her tomorrow.

+ + +

Steamy hot water fell around him, sliding warm down his skin and thickening the air. Omicron tilted his head back. He hitched a single breath, and shuddered it out on a voiced sigh. “..huh..”

He braced his hands more securely against the shower walls and steadied his feet beneath him. He woke this morning with post-nasal drip and a too-big tickle in his nose. Just as Delta said before, it stockpiled power in his sleep and by the time he came to bleary consciousness, he could feel the itch in every nook and cranny of his respiratory system. It wanted out.

The tickle scuffled with his weary sinuses and his lungs snagged with a sharp gasp, “Hih!” and another slow, yearning sigh. “..hhuhhh..”

His prick throbbed and he brought a soaped-up hand down to grip the shaft. He was rock-hard, woke up that way, too muddled with arousal and tickling misery he could do nothing but stumble to the shower. Another grungy sniffle roused the tickle to action; it shimmied in the confined space, touching every nerve with its feathery borders. It was such an overpowering sensation that he couldn’t actually sneeze. Only suffer.

“h-H-HH!” Both he and the tickle waited, but to no avail. He deflated with a moan. “.. hhh-uuuhhhh..”

Omicron stroked himself, stepping forward to press an arm to the cool tile wall and lean his forehead there as he lost himself to the climb. Sneeze or no sneeze, he was going to come. Muggy air coaxed a dry cough, a snuffling breath, another flexing fidget from the tickle. It didn’t settle afterward, but instead began to twist and turn. Thrash and flail. His nose shuddered helplessly in the onslaught. Yes, yes, yes, chanted Omicron as his nostrils pulsed. That’s it. Tickle me.

He smoothed his thumb over his slit, arching forward. He panted hot breath against the sweaty tile. Water pounded down against his shoulder blades, muscles shifting beneath skin as the tickle wriggled and wormed against its prison. His nose frazzled at the attention, and Omicron’s parted lips flinched up with a little grin. He heaved with breath, whining his way through a monstrous buildup. All the while he pumped his hand at an increasingly feverish pace.

“..uh... hhUH-hh!.. HUH!’hh.. HAH-H-” His voice reverberated off the walls with obnoxious volume. The sound of wet skin squelching mingled with the patter of water on the shower floor. He gasped at the bolt of pleasure sparkling below his stomach. “-H-Hhh’oh-hh.. h’H-uhh..”

The arousal broke his momentum. He thumped a fist against the wall with an abysmally soupy sniffle. With warring sensations, neither could win. Omicron lifted his head to the shower spray to wipe his face and paused to chafe his index finger beneath his flitting nostrils. He slowed the rhythm of his other hand. You can do better than that, he challenged the tickle. C’mon, let me have it. He snorted, feeling his sinuses vibrate with the strain. Make me sneeze.

Wish granted. With a loss of sensation down below, the tickle rushed in to fill the void. It consumed him in an instant. Omicron inhaled as if the shower water suddenly turned to ice.

“HHHHH!! IIHDDZSSSCHHYOOO!!”

It was finally out, the start of what felt like a dozen. His whole body trembled, including his dick, and Omicron dazedly picked up the pace as his nose cramped with another powerful swell. Another butter-smooth gasp.

“HIIIIH!! EHTZZSSHHH’EH! Mmmbb-!”

A beautiful ache bled through his abdomen, mirrored in the tingling clarity of his nose. Fuck he didn’t know when Delta would be back from his morning run, but.. “nnnggh..HAAASCHHYUU!-uuooh..”

He’d never been a quiet man in bed and these sneezes were some of the best he’d had so far. His membranes twitched in relief each time, as did his prick, before another storm quickly gathered. Omicron instinctively sped up the tweak of his wrist as he rocked into each stroke. He wouldn’t last much longer; he’d been edged long enough. His flaring nostrils flew wide.

“h’YIZZSSSH’Iyuh!! hooh-.. hh.. H-HIISSCHH’OOO! hhhAH-!” 

The orgasm hit like a truck. It rippled through him, wrenched him forward, and it would have been perfect if the shower floor wasn’t so damn slippery. As he shook his way through the aftershocks, the tickle snuck up on him.

“iiGGXSHH’TT- AAH-” Nothing about him was prepared. It exited roughly through his congested airways and upset his equilibrium. His feet went out from under him and rolling with the momentum spared him a concussion from the slick tile. It didn’t spare his pride however when he heard a voice from the other side of the door.

“Bless you, Omicron! You okay in there?”

Fuck, cursed Omicron, back flat to the tile as the shower pelted water into his eyes. When did he get back?

“Fine!” he barked back. The slip-scare soured what remained of his orgasm and the inside of his nose ached with raw exhaustion. He touched a knuckle to the tip. Before Delta could ask, he added, “I dropped the shampoo!”

“Well, be careful,” Amused, now that he knew his subordinate was alright. “Sounds like that nose of yours means business today!”

Omicron covered his face with his hands and sighed.

+ + +

Sunshine coated the simmering pavement. People kept their sandals on as they milled about for fear of burning their feet. Couples cuddled together in upholstered loungers around the pool’s perimeter. Loners relaxed with books on couches sheltered by giant, colorful parasols. A dual walk-and-swim-up tiki bar bustled at the far end of the pool, surrounded by wading, tipsy tourists. This was an adult-only area, so aside from the group of trust-fund college grads squealing and shoving one another off the diving board, it was quiet and classy. 

Nicolas ignored wandering eyes as he maundered the water’s edge. 

After his ill-fated shower, Delta informed him there was surveillance of Josaline Jewel in this area and it was time for a fated meeting. He’d put on a pair of colorblock swim trunks and a thin cotton cream shirt he left unbuttoned over a waxed chest. He was not a big man, but his work kept him toned. Defined abs, firm pecs, broad shoulders with muscles that rolled across his back when he moved. He’d use them all to his advantage.

Deep in his sinuses, the tickle swelled. His nostrils weakly complained and he hushed them with a quick back-forth sweep of his finger. He’d use this too, when the time came.

An arm draped over his shoulders, dragging him in for a chokehold hug. “The whole team should take a vacation sometime,” Delta said fondly. “This is fun.”

Speak for yourself, groused Omicron. Irked as he was to have Delta here, it would help his cover. Acting with a partner provided an opportunity that single performances couldn’t. Besides, jerking off in the shower took the edge off his temper, so Omicron weathered the affection without complaint. He only pressed an elbow to Delta’s chest when his own expanded with a fast-rising urge.

“G-Gonnaahh-” He hiccuped a hitching breath. Experienced now in dodging, Delta leaned away as Omicron pitched haphazardly into his opposite arm. “hih’DZSSS’ooh!”

“Bless you,” muttered Delta, and mercifully didn’t complain about the distinct lack of vampire-sneeze etiquette. Some of these sneezes just got away from him, no matter how slow or quick they came on.

They both paused for more, but after a couple uneasy breaths, none arrived. Omicron checked the damage: no shirt stains, a slight drink spillage but not on himself or anyone else, and Delta wasn’t caught by collateral. Insufferable as his senior officer could be, Omicron would perish if he accidentally sneezed on him. 

Delta lowered his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose. “See her anywhere?”

Omicron scanned as they walked, swirling his stemless wine glass before he took a sip. “Not yet.”

“Maybe she left before we got-”

“Hello.”

They whipped their heads to the left and there was Josaline. She wore the widest brim sun hat that Omicron had ever seen, black with a dramatic dip, and streaked with a white ribbon that matched the chic blacks and whites of her asymmetrical one piece suit. She still wore heels, toes painted to match her nails, ankles crossed. Her smile peeked at them from under her hat and designer sunglasses.

Nicolas roused himself and gave her a helpless smile, as if he hadn’t meant to stare. “Hi.”

“Were you looking for me?”

He fished a hand at the back of his neck, flushed to his ears, and Delta playfully tightened his grip. “Yeah, he couldn’t stop talking about you.”

Nicolas elbowed him with a hiss under his breath. “Harry!”

“I’m Harry by the way,” Harry told her, swooping in to offer his hand. Nicolas wrestled out of his hold in the meanwhile, straightening his shirt with a huff. Josaline raised a hand to her mouth to hide her widening smile.

“You must be the friend Nicolas mentioned. The one he’s rooming with?”

“Oh, he told you about me, huh?” Harry smoothed back his hair and waggled his eyebrows. “All good things I hope.”

Nicolas took another sip of his drink as they chatted, wrinkling his nose to one side and then the other. A quick, strong sniff flared his nostrils wide. He let the breath go on a sigh. Josaline tilted back the brim of her hat.

“Feeling any better?”

“Ndot really,” he conceded, then moved to sit across from her on an empty lounge chair. His shirt fell open to frame his sculpted chest and she curtly inspected the view. His pecs jumped with a brisk sniff, then another. He knuckled more aggressively at his nose. “But I’mb dnot gonna let it spoil mby vacation, if I can help it.”

Feeling lousy wasn’t actually a lie. Omicron woke up in the thrall of the tickle, yes, but when he had the ability to think afterward he realized he wasn’t at his best. His throat stung when he swallowed, scraped sore from all his harsh sneezing. His abs felt like they’d been through a ruthless core workout. And there was a disconcerting malaise settling over him, a woozy feeling that he refused to acknowledge in hopes it might just go away. 

“Forgive me saying so, but should you be drinking in your condition?” she asked, nodding to his glass. He took a breath to reply but Harry interrupted with a booming laugh and an amiable slap to the smaller man’s back.

“That’s just lemon tea and honey,” is what he told Josaline and that was also true. He did lie to Delta about it just being a prop for his cover story though. In actuality, it took the edge off his aching throat. Harry carried on, unaware. “I told him to try a hot toddy but he’s a little goodie two shoes when it comes to nursing a cold.”

Nicolas narrowed his eyes, blinking as they began to glass over. All the while since he woke, the tickle in his nose continued to haunt him. Contrary to Dr. Voster’s claim to Delta, the sensitivity hadn’t diminished at all. He bodily turned from the conversation with his drink held far away from him. His other arm tucked snugly around his nose as he sucked in a shuddering breath. Then quaked in place.

“.. hik-.. iH-GZSShu!”

“Bless you,” chorused the other two. 

He picked his head up by hesitating degrees before giving it a sharp shake. More sniffling, a thick clearing of his throat. His gaze darted to Josaline, who glanced away when he caught her looking. “Pardod mbe.”

“You know what? Try not to ruin my vacation either,” Harry griped at him, then looked to Josaline. “Nobody wants to get within five feet of me with him around. He’s like a walking cold medicine commercial.”

Omicron’s eyebrow twitched. “Well at least I don’d snore.”

Delta shot him a look that Nicolas met with innocence and a sip of his drink. Omicron shouldn’t push his luck, but he refused to pass up the chance to take pot-shots at Delta while he could get away with it. Josaline giggled.

“I can tell you’re old friends,” she said as she looked between them. “Do you see one another often, outside of events like this?”

This spiraled into deeper discussion. Delta and Omicron rattled off fake trivia to all her questions, and asked about her in turn. She was vague about her work but fairly open about her personal life. Almost all of it was useless small talk, aside from a compelling instance when she told them she created the software for her website’s security certificate herself. Her competency in coding wasn’t something Josaline Jewel advertised to the public. 

Dr. Voster called him exactly three times during the chat, and each time he dumped her to voicemail. She knew he was working. Whatever she needed to ask him could wait, or ideally, be an email.

Soon the sun was past its apex and Omicron was running out of tissues. Mortifyingly, a passing poolside waiter brought him a little bin for him to toss his trash so he didn’t have to keep walking off to a garbage can. Over the course of their conversation Josaline’s attention gravitated squarely to Nicolas and both men took this as a cue.

Harry slapped his hands on his thighs and stood. “Alright, I’m gonna check out the casino. I’ll catch up with you later, Nick.” He winked. “Have fun.”

Nicolas waved him off with one hand and tended to his unruly nose with the other. His nostrils pushed against his fingers, pulsing irritably. The tickle seemed to get worse over the course of the day, and his sneezes were coming with frustrating regularity if he didn’t waylay them. He tried to strike a balance between holding back and letting go, observing Josaline’s reactions all the while. She definitely wanted him to sneeze as badly as he did, which is why he chose to press the flat of his forefinger hard against his septum until the urge receded. He huffed away the gasp he’d gathered.

“.. huh-hh, sorry, I’b probably ndot great combpadny right ndow..”

He opened his eyes to find Josaline staring at him from under her lashes. She’d taken off her sunglasses some time ago. “On the contrary, I find you captivating.”

Nicolas laughed, ducking his head to cough. “Really? Thad’s a relief. I was worried all… this,” here he gestured to his nose, “would put you off.” 

He punctuated with a sniff, the sound purely liquid, and rushed a hand to cup his nose while he tried to free the last of his tissues from the pack with the other. “Ugh, sorry-”

“Did you lose the handkerchief I gave you?”

Omicron feigned surprise, as if he hadn’t been waiting for her to ask. “Umb.. so-.. hah.” He scrubbed his finger under his nose, subduing his wavering nostrils. “I did use it, but I thig’k you had someb kinda perfumeb on it?..”

Her lips parted in shock, and Omicron knew at once that the scent on that cloth wasn’t intentional. Maybe it was a habit of hers, dousing her handkerchiefs in perfume, but she didn’t know it would actually make him sneeze. There was a faint, petal-like blush spreading across her cheeks and her thighs tensed more tightly together. Well, well.

Nicolas blinked wetly, as if the memory of the handkerchief was enough to make his nose tickle. Granted, literally anything was enough. “As soon’d as I-.. as I-yee…huh-” He blinked again, and again, each time a little harder and with more moisture in his lashes. With a swallow, he tried to hurry through the rest, “As I used ihht I.. st- st..”

He pressed a hand to his sternum as his chest jumped with a little sip of breath. The tickle fluttered in him, enticing. Omicron gave in for just a moment, letting his eyes fold shut, relaxing into the sensation of it. Sometimes the virus felt mechanical, automatic, indifferent to him and his reactive nose. Like a machine chugging ever onward, so did the tickle continue to toil. Tickling.. and tickling.. and tickling… Blind to his convulsing nerves, deaf to his snagging breaths, just carrying on with its function with no regard for the consequences.

Unable now to open his eyes again, Omicron spoke around compulsive gasps and breathed his words on the exhales. “hH!S’made be-.. h-HH!Bade be-uhhh.. snd’HIH!.. sdeehEEZZSSHOO!”

Nicolas snapped forward, sneezing over his lap, and belatedly raised a hand to his nose. It was running copiously. He wouldn’t get the job done with what was left of his tissues, unfortunately. He squinted against another hopeful tickle, begging himself now to keep it together. He really didn’t want to sneeze again like this.

A flash of white caught his eye. Josaline, her gaze boring into him with palpable weight, offered another handkerchief. He swallowed. It was identical in every way to the first, and Omicron suspected it smelled the same too. But this was what she wanted, and he was a professional. He would deliver.

He took it from her and began to unfold it with both hands to give her an uninhibited view of his face. As he began to wind up for another sneeze, he gave the tickle full control over every micro-expression. The fitful flare of his nostrils. The crease of his crow’s feet. His quivering, parted lips. The way his nose gathered grimacing wrinkles at the bridge when the urge became undeniable. His voice bled into his heaving exhales, unintentional but not unwelcome.

“H’uhh.. iIH!hhh..h-h-!hohh.. mbbggh..”

This was the worst part, when it crested to a peak but couldn’t quite get him high enough to tip him over. Throwing caution to the wind, he lifted the aromatic cloth to his face and breeeeeeeathed-

“KZZSSSCH!”

Rough, wrenched out of him in fury. As the methodical tickle gave way to a fierce burn, Omicron had just long enough to wonder if Delta was right: he might actually be allergic.

His eyes rolled closed and he shuddered helplessly into the handkerchief. “iih’TZSsh!” A tight breath and then, “iik’KISHH!... hd’IZSSH!.. Tshh! it’TZSH!”

There wasn’t time for anything else. No wavering gasps, no bleary moment of respite before the next volley. It was a quick trigger release, too itchy and ineffective to do anything but wind him. “-DSSH’uu!.. hd’DZSSH’oo!! ohh..HH!”

He heard Josaline stir in her lounge chair, and then felt the jostle of his own when she sat down beside him. A hand smoothed up and down the line of his spine, pausing to feel his back expand with a single, catching breath. 

“-ig’GEZSC’Hoo!.. GZSShuu!.. Chshh-IH’chzssh!.. HIH!chzsch! Ugh!” He finally managed a shaky blow into the folds of the handkerchief. A couple desperate hitching breaths and then he quickly committed to another. It cleared away most of the mess; he was able to free his nose for air.

His eyes were still locked shut, but he could feel his nostrils twitching like a rabbit’s. Rushing a finger beneath them did nothing. He sneezed against his hand. “iihpssh!... h’TZschh!h- hIKssh!! TIZSSCH’u!”

It felt endless, and nothing like the big, bad wolf sneezes that the tickle cooked up. No, these didn’t help anything. Each sneeze just somehow itched him more. “..hah-..hh.. hH’ZSSCH’yah!”

He nearly lifted the handkerchief back to his face and caught himself at the last moment. Loathe as he was to do it, he used the collar of his shirt instead. He had nothing else. Omicron lifted the corner to his nose, his nostrils so warm to the touch they felt feverish, and muffled what he could.

“MMFZSSH!.. hg’ISHH!..” At least it was slowing down. He sniffled, feeling muzzy, and finally cracked his eyes open. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He closed them again with a jumpy, “hih- IH!-..MMPHZSSH!!”

Omicron waited, tense, for the next one. It sizzled in his sinuses for a solid few seconds before dissipating in a wave of prickling dismay. It left his nose wary, on guard for the next attack, even as the virus insidiously labored away inside him. His shirt was a lost cause, so he shrugged it off and used it to blot at his face as he snuffled and hitched his way into presentability. Holy hell, that was more than he bargained for.

“Bless.”

A touch alighted on his bare arm. Nicolas picked his head up, squinting through puffy eyes and already cringing with apology. “Sorry,” he croaked. “I thigk I mbight be allergic.”

“Yes, so do I,” she breathed, and smoothed her touch to his back again. Without his shirt in the way, her palm glided up and down his skin. Her other hand thumbed a tear from the corner of his eye. “You poor thing.. I didn’t realize that’s what you were trying to say. Forgive me.”

They were both lying to each other now. Nicolas shook his head, both his hands coming to hold one of hers. “Ndo, ndo, it’s ndot your fault! I couldn’d explain itd well.” He gave her a pitifully tearful smile. “Had to sdneeze too bad.”

The tone shifted. Omicron could feel it keenly. Josaline squeezed, then let them go. Her hands lifted instead to cradle his cheeks, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I need to confess something.”

He blinked at her, wide eyed. “... Codfess whad?”

“I’m not the sort of woman to be repelled by all... this,” she said softly, with an equally soft graze of her thumb against one of his chapped nostrils. It flared in response, and Omicron fended off the visceral need to rub it. Josaline stroked him again, and his nose twitched away from her. The tickle bristled and he leaned out her hands, racked with fittish hitches. He jammed his finger beneath his septum, barely catching himself before a sneeze tumbled out. 

She watched him avidly as he battled back the urge, one eye squinted shut in a lopsided wince. Her attention honestly flustered him; Omicron never liked attention when he sneezed, and her gaze in particular stripped him bare. He lowered his finger reluctantly, and kept his hand hovering at chest level. The sneeze was stalled but certainly not gone.

He sighed his words. “S-uh.. Sorry, I-.. hooh, I bight.. I-ihhm godda-HH!” He wiped his head to the side. “iih’DZSCH’iew!! ugh, b’sorry..”

Her voice wavered. “Please don’t be sorry.”

“I-hhuh.. hkrrm!” Omicron cleared his throat, bringing the edge of his shirt up to his nose to blot and then, with great disgust, blow. He was going to burn this thing when he got back to his room. When he finished he looked away from her, painfully embarrassed. “I’m seriously so gross right now, I’m sorry-”

“Nicolas..” She slid a hand up his arm, splaying her fingers on his shoulder. Her other arm came around to rest at the juncture of his neck so she could toy fingers at the short, fine hairs on his nape. “I want to be clear. I’m not put off at all by your cold. Frankly, I think it looks very good on you.”

He frowned at her as the gears turned, then perked up when they slotted in place. “.. Oh!”

Josaline smiled wide enough to show her teeth, humming a little laugh. “I would like to kiss you. Is that alright?”

She drifted into his orbit as she spoke, her smokey stare flicking between his eyes and his lips. He nodded, and met her halfway. As their mouths met, she tugged down the brim of her hat to hide them from view. They kissed behind a black veil, his hand reaching to cup her jaw as she pushed a palm up the plane of his bare chest. With his nose so completely packed, Nicolas gulped air between passes of her tongue and chuffed soft, stuffy breaths against her skin.

Something about Omicron. He was suited to his job in many ways, one of which being his attitude toward infatuation and sex. Romance made his skin crawl, and physical intimacy was to him nothing more than a nice dessert. Delicious? Yes. Mandatory? No. He desired sex as much as he desired bubble baths or a night at the opera. He never let it distract him from his mission, even when at times it was his mission. It was a point of pride for him.

She eased him onto his back, kissing him deeply into the plush of the lounge chair. The new angle wasn’t great for his nose, shifting congestion in his head like tetris blocks until he whimpered against her lips. She finally let him up for air and he heaved in a breath, snuffling squeakily and then coughing when the air bottled up in his sinuses. He belatedly turned his head, and flushed up to his hairline.

“- guh, suh-sorry,” Nicolas whispered, his voice gravelly. “Can’d breathe through by dose at all.”

“Stop apologizing,” Josaline whispered back. She nudged the tip of her nose against his, nuzzling him even as she bit down on his lower lip to mumble around the flesh. “Can I help?”

He didn’t get a chance to reply before her tongue was back in his mouth. It was dark beneath the shade of her hat, with bits of sunlight dancing through the weave. While it was no mystery what they were getting up to under there, it was as subtle and as tasteful as public displays could get. She leaned more of her weight against him, pushing the planes of her palms up the span of his chest until he made another pleading sound.

Again she leaned back by an inch and again he tried to catch his breath. His nose fizzed with a wicked tickle. Sinuses immobile. Couldn’t agitate his nose with air. It would have to be something else, another method.. 

A bolt of inspiration struck.

“Josah-H!.. Josalind,” he mumbled. She was passing time sucking a bruise on his neck. “hah.. Josalind, cad you-”

She blew a puff of cool air over the patch of wet skin and smirked as he shivered. “Can I what, baby?”

“Hhhelp,” he gasped, and arched when she laved her tongue over his collarbone. His neck was sensitive, and Omicron resolutely continued even as he arched his back. “I’ll breathe better if I cad sdneeze, bud.. huh..” He sniffled in vain. The attempt ended in another disappointed cough. “.. id won’d combe.”

It was like he said the magic words. Josaline lifted her head and refocused her attention on his nose. It looked pitiful, so raw from rubbing and snubbing that the skin shined a brilliant red. His nostrils flared like a beacon, irregular but frequent. Nicolas gazed up at her, blotchy and half-lidded. She skimmed her pinky finger up the bridge of his nose, watching his eyes fall closed and his brows crunch and his nose wrinkle up beneath her touch. She sighed, besotted.

“I can certainly do something about that, but I’m not sure I should do it here,” she murmured. Fingers threaded through his hair, scritching lightly at his scalp. “I have things in my room-”

He slivered his eyes open. “Whhee.. cad d..” They fluttered closed again as he breathed, breathed!... And then sighed out a groan. “-ohh..We cad go to your roomb-h-H!.. hiiff you w-wand.. but..huh-”

Unable to help himself, one of his hands routed from her waist to his nose to grind beneath his throbbing nostrils. Just enough to take the edge off so he could finish what he was saying. His entire expression scrunched as he worked his nose, but he plowed onward.

“..I usually don’d ndeed buch,” he clarified. “Jusd thinking about id is edough to.. to…” He dropped his hand and snatched in a gasp so deep, his chest lifted Josaline where she lay across him. “HHHUH-!” But nothing came. He growled, his first real display of frustration in front of her. She comforted him with another rake of her fingers through his hair.

“Truly?” she asked, and when he fought his eyes open to look at her she seemed awed. “No.. external stimulation at all?”

Omicron knew of the methods to which she alluded, but Nicolas didn’t. He gathered his eyebrows together. “.. Ndo?”

“How do I help?”

“You cand just talk.” He anchored his hand back to her waist, his gaze glassing over. “About how buch id t.. tiihckles..”

She pressed her lips together, her cheeks beginning to darken. “.. could you demonstrate?”

Not the response he expected. He figured she’d want to take the lead, but Omicron was nothing if not flexible. “Yeahhh..h!IH-.. I usually thig’k about fhheathers or.. flowers or.. sombthig like..” He closed his eyes and conjured an image. “Like a little bug, crawli’g around up there.”

And just like that, it’s what the tickle became. Small, at first so unobtrusive as to be barely of notice but over time the irritation compounded. Omicron hauled in a hearty sniffle, coughing for his trouble, but the endeavor cleared up some of his consonants.

“It doesn’d know what it’s doing, but it’s tryi’g to escape and the luhh.. lohhnger it searches the.. huH!ohh.. the mbore unbearable it becomes.”

He could feel it zipping about, uncaring and unaware of how it stirred his haggard nose into motion. As it scampered along the length of a nerve, the membrane flushed and quivered. As its glossy wings grazed the tender pink walls, they shuddered. Another sensation pulsed further down; heat began to pool into his abdomen.

“And it’s tiih.. tiHII-!ckling mbe, but it doesn’t know that and I can’t tell it to stop and at this p-hhoint I don’dH! wantHH!- hhihht to..” 

The little presence adventured in the wrong direction, into more sensitive depths, so deep in his nose he didn’t know it could tickle there. Omicron moaned at the honeyed ache in his groin. He desperately wanted friction, but common sense kept his hips welded to the lounge chair. He felt the tickle flutter, then flit, and then begin to panic. It realized this wasn’t the exit.

“Ahhnd th-then.. it starts freaki’g out. It’s buzzing all around and maki’g my ndose itchier and itchier, and I’m st.. start-HH!h’ingHH!!h-to.. IIH!”

Omicron imagined the wet, cavernous expanse of his tortured sinuses, every inch of it undulating in agitation all because of one little tickle. And that tickle persevered even now, darting around in the abyss of his nose unceasing. A smile flickered across his lips as another pang of pleasure swirled through him.

“.. and I just want it to keep..HHHH!” He huffed a momentous breath and his chest jumped under her hands. Words carried on his pining exhale. “.. -want it to mbake mbe-HHHHH!” Tingles trailed down his spine as he uttered the last few words in a high, airy voice. “.. make mbe snhheeze… HHDZZSSSCCHH’OOO!!”

Sparks popped behind his eyelids and Omicron moaned helplessly through a wave of carnal delight. He didn’t come, but the sneeze was paradise. He hitched gratefully up to the next one in line. “HH! HH! HHHH-” Something billowy and soft tucked over his nose and he pitched into it. “EH’JZZSSHHH’IUU!”

He groaned into fabric, stretching restlessly on the lounge chair as his cock twitched again. It was confined to the tight pressure of his swim trunks, a problem Omicron couldn’t think clearly enough to solve as he huffed and puffed his way toward another humongous sneeze.

“-ah.. haH.. HAAASZZSSSH’UE!” And still his nose craved more. Who was he to deny it? “-iihHHIIZZSSHEW!! mmbb..” Once they started, they felt too good to stop. “.. uhTZSSSSCH!!iuuhhhhh..”

Omicron keened, muffled by the cloth snugged over his nose. The break afforded him a chance to snurfle into its folds and reach up to brace his hand over the one that held it there. Deep in his nose, the tiny intruder buzzed brainlessly against nerves flayed raw. They were defenseless, vulnerable and so, so very sensitive. His chest rose and fell with an increasingly staccato rhythm, his expression frozen with need. He needed t-to.. He hhhad to-!

“ehhHPBBZSSCCH’IIYUU!”

He seized into the cloth and collapsed back to the chair. Heat surged through his veins, wondrous but left wanting as his erection strained against the front of his shorts. But at last the attack on his nose abated; the tickle retreated to the dark, hidden place where it liked to bide its time. Omicron mustered through a long, alleviating blow into the sturdy fabric. Sinus pressure dissipated from behind his eyes, just enough to take the sharpest edges off his encroaching headache. Then he just laid there panting and steadying his hazy vision when he finally opened his eyes.

He noticed a few things.

Nearly everybody in the vicinity was looking at him, sunbathers and staff members alike. Josaline was not an exception. Her hand rested lax in his, where she’d held his shirt to his face as he sneezed. And blew his nose. And he had a visible erection, blocked mercifully by Josaline’s position to the wider crowd but absolutely not hidden from Josaline herself. And for the first time, Omicron thought, Oh shit. I might actually be compromised.

“Um-..” he squeaked. All he could hear was a rushing noise, like standing in a wind tunnel, his heart banging against his ribs. Cold sweat broke out over his skin. “Um-..”

Josaline was similarly speechless. Paralyzed, even.

Did she not like it? Was it the bug thing? Fuck, he should have gone with pollen or something, that was more mainstream or at the very least, comparatively less weird. What was he thinking?! He thought this ‘sneezing untouched’ method might entice her, but a hell of an idea that was. Dr. Voster and her ridiculous pursuits. ‘Sneezing by suggestion,’ his ass. Now he was sprawled out here on display with a cock harder than diamonds and he’d just blown his nose into his shirt and practically into her hand-

Don’t panic, he counseled himself through shaking breaths. This is salvageable. Just play it off with a laugh, apologize for everything, then tactically retreat, regroup with Delta, fess up, come clean, apologize AGAIN-

“I-I’ll go,” he said, barely present as he gathered his shirt and held it in front of his crotch to stand. “I’m really sorry, very sorry about this. I just… um..”

Delta will be so pissed that he’ll take me off the case and the agency will put me on probation and I’ll be sorting files in the office for the rest of my career and they’ll never let me live this down, I’ll be the laughing stock of the force, I’ll-

A hand caught his wrist. He looked down and there was Josaline, coaxing him with soft, careful touches to sit back down. She smoothed hair off his sweaty brow.

“Relax,” she told him. “No one knows. They only looked because you were loud, and nothing more.”

If she meant that to be reassuring, it didn’t help. Everybody and their neighbor just watched him obnoxiously sneeze and moan for what might have been several minutes. So much for subtly, which was his entire job description as an agent. He was a disgrace to the force. Omicron buried his face in one hand, elbow propped on his knee. Nebulous plans to cut his losses and find a new job stalled at the sound of her chuckle. 

“And didn’t I tell you to stop apologizing?”

He shrunk inward, painfully embarrassed and hissing a whisper into his clammy palm. “Yeah, but that was-”

“It was incredible.” 

Omicron snapped his head up, blinking the blur out of his eyes. Josaline’s flushed cheeks and smile came into focus. She scooted closer to him, pressing her bosom to his arm and tucking her head in the crook of his neck. She raised the edge of his shirt, still piled between his limp hands, to dab beneath his nose. Omicron startled, recognized the feeling of something wet on his upper lip, and lost what remained of his composure.

“Could I not be a disaster for just five seconds? Please??” he demanded of the universe, of the virus, of anyone, and turned his head away to clean himself up without help. Sniffling and scuffing his nose prompted retribution. It tickled like a dangling string. Omicron ducked forward. “..h’HIDZssch!!”

Josaline swayed with him and pressed a kiss to his throat. She trailed her lips up and up even as he rushed to wipe his nose. “Listen, Nicolas,” she said against the corner of his mouth. “There is something else I need to confess to you. I want to introduce you to someone.”

Omicron’s nostril wrinkled as it was bestowed a kiss. “.. intro..hh.. duhhce me to someone?”

“Yes.” Silken breath glossed over the bridge of his nose. “To my husband.”

Everything grinded to a halt. 

It was a good thing she expected him to be floored by that news. Husband? Husband?? The word echoed around in his head, immaterial; he couldn’t grasp the concept. There was no intel about a husband. Nobody mentioned a husband. She’s married? How can she be married!? His eyes jerked to her left hand, bare of a ring. She followed his gaze with a charming smile.

“Neither of us wear one,” she explained. “We married for practical reasons, and we aren’t interested in exclusivity. He and I consider ourselves free to explore as we like.”

She’s… married. The fact churned sluggishly in his mind, untethered and unexpected. She’s married. So..

“..uhh..” Omicron contributed intelligently. “Uh, s-so.. huh-” 

Oh for fuck’s sake. He fought tooth and nail to keep his eyes open, watching Josaline bite her lip as the last sliver of light disappeared. Now the tickle was just kicking him while he was down. It snagged him by the lungs and hurled him forward over his lap.

“-eHTCHZSS’hoo!”

“Bless you,” Josaline purred, stuck to him from shoulder to hip.

Omicron tucked his fist beneath his nose with a couple convalescing sniffles. “-nguh, thagk you..” Another sniffle, sharper, and a crinkling blink to disperse the dark spots floating in front of his eyes. “So, you want me to.. meet him?”

“While my husband and I have similar tastes,” she continued delicately, “we find it more gratifying to seek pleasure with others than with one another. However..”

Here she guided him to look at her with a single finger to his chin. 

“.. very rarely, one of us will meet someone special. Someone who would please us both. Together.” 

This conversation was going at light speed while Omicron was still floating in space. He nodded, buying himself time, trying to gather more than just the word husband. So his mortifying sneeze-fit failure was actually a success, to the extent that Josaline wanted him to meet her husband, who also had the hots for sneezing? Presumably? Possibly? But wait, nothing in the files ever mentioned a husband, so that meant this was a secret husband..

“Do you understand?” Josaline asked. “What I’m proposing?”

Ménage à trois, his strategic mind supplied. Ménage à trois with the suspected cyber criminal’s secret husband. 

Suddenly, and Omicron truly didn’t know how, everything was turning up aces. Not only did he have intel on a secret husband but he’d get to meet the guy. Talk to him. Learn more about Josaline through him. Find some incriminating indication that she actually was a white-collar mastermind screwing thousands of people out of hundreds of thousands of dollars. And then he’d get his ass kissed by everybody at head office and they’d crown him King of Spies and give him only the coolest assignments henceforth. Maybe he’d get a fancy company car.. or a commissioned self-portrait in a tuxedo.. or..

Omicron jolted, as if coming awake from an impromptu nap. Shit. He rubbed both hands over his face, dismayed when they came away sticky. The humidity must be getting to him. Moist air always made him groggy. 

“Nicolas?” Josaline looked a little uncertain now.

“I’d love to,” he blurted, then ducked his with a sheepish sniffle. “Ah, I mean.. if that’s-.. if you’re offering..?”

“If you’re comfortable?” she asked back. Nicolas nodded, maybe a little too quickly because his head felt like it was on a string five feet in the air. Josaline broke into a toothy smile, reaching to smooth thumbs over the puffy skin beneath his eyes. “Really?”

“Well, I-... as long as you’re both okay with it,” he replied. His nose creased at the bridge when she nuzzled the tip of hers to his. Omicron hiccuped a breath, and huffed it against her lips. “I-hhah..”

“Dinner tomorrow night,” she promised him, watching avidly as his expression contorted. Omicron squirmed his nose in a bid for it to behave, but Josaline wasn’t having it. She kissed just beneath his nostrils as they flared against her own. Lurking in the recesses of his sinuses, the tickle emerged. “We’ll ask him.”

Then she sealed her lips over his as he contended with the damage in her wake. His nose felt full of fuzzy bits, and with his nose as his only source of oxygen, Omicron was forced to keep stirring them with air. Each inhale swept them in a wind, sending them spinning against every inflamed atom of his nerves. They moved deeper, joined by more, an escalating infestation drifting deeper into his sinuses until he was dizzy with it.

“mmm!” he hummed into her mouth. Both her hands sunk into his hair, holding him still, keeping him locked to her lips as the tickle grew and grew. He sucked a hitching, shaky sniffle that whipped all the fuzz into a storm. Omicron whimpered again, higher and sharper. “-MM!”

Only when he set hands on her shoulders did she part from him with a soft sound, and even then she did it reluctantly. By now Omicron was lost to his gasping ascent. “hih-..hIH!h.. IHT-!” On the cusp, he whirled to the side and rocked with a perfunctory, “-DZSHH’iew!!”

She draped her arms around him, tugging him into her side as he fussed with his nose. Nicolas topped backward with her to the lounge chair. “Bless.” 

“Ugh, thagks,” he snuffled and shifted in her arms to see her better. “Had to sndeeze, I’m sor-”

Josaline pressed a finger to his lips to silence an impending apology, and when she was sure he’d gotten the message, she trailed her painted nails along his bottom lip. “It’s a date, then?”

Nicolas smiled. “It’s a date.”

/tbc! 

I know what happens next, I just have to write it! Thank you so much to everyone who’s stuck around for part 2, I really appreciate you!💗Hope to see you again at part 3 ^w^

[atlabeth]

🧸 - i hope this piques your interest LOL but i'm deep in a benedict bridgerton mood waiting for s3 to air

could you do a fluffy slow burn blurb for him where reader completely takes him by surprise? up to your interpretation men are just always sexier when caught off guard and proven wrong 😁☝🏼

happy 3k again my love!!

twin flames

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: you and benedict bond at an art exhibition. he only seems to be oblivious when it can embarrass him most.

a/n: thank you so much for the request!! it was literally the first one and it's taken me almost a month. lol. im so sorry. but i hope you enjoy!!!

wc: 1.1k

warning(s): all fluff

“This is beautiful,” Benedict murmured, and he glanced at the man beside him. “Is this not one of the best pieces you’ve seen?” 

“I suppose it’s alright,” the man shrugged. 

“Just alright?” He frowned. “Are you feeling well, sir?” 

The man frowned as well as he moved onto the next painting, fully ignoring Benedict. He just shook his head and focused back on the painting, thinking aloud. 

“The use of color is just—” he shook his head again. “It’s incredible. The way the brushstrokes are used for depth and the unique way of shading… It all melds together so well, and yet I never would have thought to use any of it in that way.” 

“Is that true?” 

Benedict’s eyes flickered down to see you by his side, a pretty woman in a rather unassuming dress. He’d never seen you before at one of these exhibits, so you must have been new. He would have remembered a face such as yours. 

“Certainly,” he said, nodding with exuberance. “Art is meant to make you imagine, feel— when I look at this piece, I feel some sort of amazement. It captures the beauty of a starry night impeccably, but the technique gives it a completely fresh feel. It is as if I am looking up at the horizon on my own for the very first time again, amazed by the vastness of the world.” 

You smiled. “That is very kind of you to say, sir. You’ve quite an eye, sir—and certainly a way with words.” 

Benedict shrugged. “It is very simple with a piece such as this. I could wax poetic all day, Miss…” He trailed off, and his gaze fell back to you. “I apologize, my lady. You have me at a disadvantage.” 

That coy smile remained on your lips. “Miss Tilbury. And you are Benedict Bridgerton, yes?” 

He nodded, and he couldn’t help the slightly nervous laugh that came along with being in your presence. “I am embarrassed. You knew my name, but I didn’t know yours. You must forgive me.” 

“Oh, it is of no matter,” you said, brushing your hand through the air. “You already know more about me than most.” 

His eyebrows rose, and when his mouth opened, he found himself at a loss for words. It took a moment to compose himself—it was awfully difficult to think with those pretty eyes focusing so intently on him. 

“Pardon me for asking, but are you new to these exhibits?” 

Your eyebrows rose. “What makes you think that?” 

“I’ve not yet seen you around here,” he said. “And I am sure I would remember a face such as yours.”

“No,” you said, and your smile widened. “No, I frequent these sorts of exhibits. I’ve seen you before—I just must not have caught your eye.” 

“Oh, I think that impossible,” Benedict insisted. “Not only are you quite beautiful, my lady, you’ve also a sharp mind and a quick wit. Those are three things I can never ignore.” 

At that, you fully grinned, and he felt a smile of his own form. He’d only just met you and yet he felt this innate need to bring you joy. Perhaps it was a good thing you’d only just now met, for he could easily imagine thoughts of you consuming his every waking hour. 

“And you are quite the charmer, Mister Bridgerton,” you said. “Are you always this forward with women you just met?” 

“Only ones such as yourself,” he assured. “It is a delight to be able to discuss art with a twin flame.” 

“A twin flame?” 

“Someone who sees things the way I do,” Benedict said. “I tried to have a conversation about this piece with a man just before you, but he did not seem to understand it the way I did. You are refreshing, Miss Tilbury.” 

“Ah,” you said, and you nodded sagely. “Well, I may have just a bit more insight into this piece than that man did. I am the one who painted it, after all.” 

Benedict blinked. The words didn’t fully register in his mind. “What?” 

“I am the artist of this piece,” you said, gesturing at the painting they stood in front of. “I’m certainly flattered to know you enjoy it.” 

Benedict blinked again, and he felt heat spread across his whole face. He could not find any words in him for a strikingly long moment. 

“You can see my signature in the bottom right corner,” you continued. “My initials, of course. I paint under a pseudonym, for though those who run these exhibitions are more progressive than most, it can still be difficult as a woman to get our art displayed.” 

“I— I apologize, my lady,” Benedict finally managed to stammer. 

You tilted your head to the side as you looked back at him. “For what?” 

“For not knowing your name,” he rushed, “and insinuating that you were a newcomer, and acting as if I know more about your own art than you do.” 

You laughed, and Benedict once again found himself smiling at it. It felt like fresh snowfall—you were indeed refreshing. 

“You need not apologize, Mister Bridgerton,” you assured. “I do not lie—it is indeed flattering to know you see my art in such a light. I have seen some of your own pieces, and you are talented.” 

“I do not always feel it,” he mumbled. “More often than not, I can only see the flaws in my work. You have a rare quality indeed, my lady—you are able to compliment yourself.” 

“I do not believe in the need for self-deprecation in the artistic world,” you mused. “I am proud of this piece, so why would I not compliment it? I already have enough men trying to scorn me each day—I see no reason to contribute to the fire with my own words.”  

“And there is no reason for you to!” Benedict exclaimed. “Miss Tilbury, you’ve a way with a brush that very few do—at least with what I’ve seen. I— I consider it an honor to even be standing in your presence, if I am honest. Have you any other works I can see?” 

You smiled. “I do, but none of them are available in a manner such as this. I hope to display more soon.” 

“As do I,” Benedict said, nodding rapidly. “Mayfair should consider itself lucky to be graced by such fine artistry.” 

“And I consider myself lucky to get compliments from a man such as yourself.” Your smile turned slightly coy. “I could offer you some tips, of course. Since you were such a fan of my artwork.” 

Benedict could only stare at you for a moment. He did not know whether your words held more or not, but he realized he was alright with either—or both, if he found himself lucky enough. 

“I would love to, Miss Tilbury.” 

“I see no need for formalities.” You said your first name, your eyes sparkling. “We are twin flames, after all. Yes?” 

Benedict’s throat bobbed, but he could not help his grin. “Yes.” 

[binarystarhero]

hi i just wanted to say- bsh is absolutely incredible and ive found myself deep in hyperfixation for the past week over it (i . may or may not have gone through blogs when i originally found out you had privated the asks from your dev tumblr + combed multiple for crumbs of ray lore hPOSDHIS). but like . it is so so lovely and im glad i finally gave it a shot. ive replayed it over a dozen times the past week and ive kicked my feet like a teenager with a crush whenever i thought of him!! i found this blog a bit less than an hour ago and reading the asks i missed has been THRILLING.

also like?? the wound scene in particular is INSANE? because i remember reading through it the first time and being struck with the most insane urge to be like . what if mc sank their fingers in a bit . bc its so insanely erotic to me oDOFHSID. when i saw the ask from another fellow ex-catholic i felt so vindicated ab the brainrot over the side wound and im !!! the fact he's forcing mc's hand into parting his flesh , , , i read up on the reasons behind it but also . the fact that it could that beneath the annoyance and resentment in the moment that him shoving their fingers into his wound could also be seen as a desperate bid for connection, for understanding that mc, in that moment, could not possibly comprehend has me going insane .

also !!! hes so fucking cute when the player meets him first in game??? like its so awkward and it endears me soooo bad . like "i prefer it that way" only to audibly say "lets just stop talking" had me in TEARS . i bet he rehearsed that interaction for hours and was mentally cursing himself for how it actually turned out lol

ALSO . the fact that ray is so off-put by the mint latte's color makes me hysterical . bc in this modern day and age matcha has become so popular (and idk how it is in bsh, but im just headcannoning it as the same in my head) so the fact ray is so perturbed is delightful . like damn . u rlly are an old white man (affectionate). it makes me want to have him try desserts from my culture (which can be bright green among other colors) and its so !!! it makes me so genuinely delighted to have had this little interaction with him and also knowing he enjoys watching the great british bake off . i want to see the inside of his fridge so bad .

OH on that note, did ray not have a lot of exposure to different cultural foods after he debuted as a hero? i know he grew up in a gov. facility and then lived in oklahoma with steel sherrif, and can cook well now, so is his culinary know-how mainly derived from western cooking standards/varieties?

oh- and did you have a cologne in mind for ray? its mentioned offhandedly in bsh that mc finds his cologne pleasant, and i wanted to know if you had one in mind when writing the scene/scents that you associate with ray!!!

and also- you mentioned ray has had sexual experiences in the past- does he have experience being pegged/penetrated? for . scientific purposes . of course .

(dont feel pressured to answer all these questions but im just so curious about ray and his backstory- i adore him so much sidofiUSDFH)

ANYWAYS im digitally sending you so many flowers and hearts, concrete. binary star hero skyrocketed to the top of my fave visual novels and i know its going to be consuming my mind for the foreseeable future LOL

Thankyou for your ask, it's so lovely and thoughtful 💕 I'm so sorry you had to wait so long for me to bring back the asks!

"That him shoving their fingers into his wound could also be seen as a desperate bid for connection," - Oh absolutely! The whole game Ray is searching desperately for that connection in a way that is so inhuman it inherently separates himself from the connection he desperately wants. I also love that section of the game because it does feel like a snippet that is so thematic of Ray's whole character in that way.

"i bet he rehearsed that interaction for hours and was mentally cursing himself for how it actually turned out lol" - Yep, he rehearsed it in his head a bunch and still fucked it up, in that moment he really wished he could kill himself lol.

RE: the mint latte - Ray just does not get out that much because he is so busy with work and even if he had the time he isn't really sure what he would do or where he would go. So that being said, Ray absolutely wouldn't know what matcha is 💀. He is an old man, not necessarily in age, but absolutely in being out of touch with current fads and events.

Did ray not have a lot of exposure to different cultural foods - He hasn't, most of his cooking knowledge is pretty western. But he would be absolutely delighted to try a bunch of new foods he hasn't had before.

did you have a cologne in mind for ray? - Nope, I would have to do some research to figure this out lol.

does he have experience being pegged/penetrated - All of his previous experiences have been pretty vanilla, but that is due to him not being fully invested in those experiences/partners and mainly just preforming for what his partner wanted. So he hasn't been penetrated in any of his previous sexual encounters... but with MC though he may be skeptical he would be willing to try (smirk)

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Uh.... Apparently I wrote this in the middle of the night but also I have no recollection of it. The things I found on my drafts are so funny lol. Enjoy??? And on another note, gonna finish my others requests this week, I promise! 🥺🤞

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, domestic fluff, I think, soft!Sebby, nudeness, kidnapping but reader doesn't care anymore.

That night, as the moon shone in the starry sky, Sebastian prepared a hot bath for his beloved. The scents of herbs and flowers filled the air, he had even lit several candles of different colors to create an even more comfortable atmosphere. Sebastian was perfect in every way, even though the beginning of your relationship was turbulent, everything had now improved.

Carefully he adjusted the water temperature, making sure it was perfect and exactly how you like it. His beloved mate deserved the best after such a stressful day.

With a calm smile on his lips, Sebastian entered the room he shared with you. There the demon's heart leaped inside his chest, something he would never have believed possible before. You were sitting in your armchair, with a tired expression and your eyes heavy with sleep. Sebastian approached silently, wrapping you in his strong arms.

"Bassy?” You opened your eyes, holding back a yawn but settling comfortably into his arms.

"Shh, go back to sleep darling, I'll take care of you now." He whispered in your ear as he carries you to the bathroom. And you gave yourself to your loved one's care without question, trusting him completely.

If it were a few months ago though, Sebastian thinks with grace, you would force your eyes open and fight against his touch, fight against everything he would do because you used to fear him. Sometimes you still would evade him but now just to tease him and to see the expressions on his face. "It's priceless", you often say.

With skill and delicacy, Sebastian undressed you, revealing the soft skin he adored so much. He let your body sink into the hot water, listening to your sleepy sighs of delight with a smile. Tenderness adorned every movement he made, washing every inch of your body, his fingers gliding gently across your skin, massaging your tense muscles and making you let out soft giggles.

You are such a precious little thing. Giving yourself over to him and his sick love, a love that consumed and consumed and never stopped growing. A love that took away everything you knew, but gave you everything you needed. Sebastian didn't care if it was unhealthy or selfish, he only cared that he had you exactly where he wanted you.

He loved every detail of you, every imperfection that made you unique in his eyes. In other times this feeling would have been a source of shame for the demon, but now it was something he was proud of.

When the bath came to an end, you woke up as the heat of the water left you, but you were soon wrapped in the soft, fluffy towel. Sebastian took you back to the bedroom, humming as he sat you down on the bed and dried every part of your body.

You smiled. "You know you didn't have to do all that."

Sebastian rolled his eyes at your statement. What kind of lover would he be if he couldn't do that? Instead of answering you, he inquired. "What do you want to wear to bed?"

Normally you would wear your pajamas, but for the last few days you have been sleeping in one of his shirts. They were long and had his signature scent even after they were washed, they were comfortable just like you had said after this became a constant occurrence. The look on your face already responded and Sebastian promptly presented you with the white shirt, helping you put it on with the same delicacy used when he bathed you.

You pulled him closer as he reached to fasten the buttons and left several small, noisy kisses across his face. If he was a human, you knew that at that moment he would have blushed due to the expression that inhabited his face at that moment.

He helped you lie down right away, kissing your forehead. The candles were extinguished, the covers were placed over you to protect you from the cold, he walked away to put the towel to dry and when he returned your eyes were already closed. It was difficult not to feel drowsy when all that surrounded your small house were wide woods that stretched out immensely.

"Sleep well, my beloved mate," Sebastian whispered, caressing your face very, very sofly.

The demon also changed his clothes before joining your side, pulling you closer until your back was flush against his chest and resting his head in the crook of your neck. As sleep enveloped you completely, Sebastian smiled, watching your nose curl and your eyebrows twitch, listening to your sighs and snores and feeling your heart beating.

Demons don't usually sleep, but they can if they want. Before you, Sebastian used to think all of this was beneath him. But now that he has you, now that he has experienced love for the first time, he closes his eyes and lets sleep take him too without thinking twice.

[twisted-king]

Hello! Since you also write genshin, I've thought about reader or F!S/O being from Teyvat. But that isnt really the main point. How 'bout their F!S/O is from Sumeru and is strictly bestfriends with Cyno and Alhaitham. How would Trey, Azul, Jade, Floyd, and Jamil feel about their F!S/O having boy bestfriends back at her world? Maybe if they're jealous, reader tries to comfort them by saying that Alhaitham is engaged(to Kaveh)XD Lol

You dont have to do this if its to much♡

Oddly specific but I like the cut of your jib!

Also can be read as genter neutral, I don't reall mention gender on this one?

Trey, Azul, Jade, Floyd, and Jamil X F!SO from Teyvat

who is also besties with Cyno and Alhaitham

Trey Clover

Well youre from a whole different world! Magic seems to exist in some capacity at least.

He doesn't know what a Zatyun peach or a Sunsettia is.

But he tries v hard to make you things that remind you of home sometimes!

He actually does a pretty good job at it too!

And thats where the issue arives.

Whenever he asks about your homeland he knows he is going to hear about your best friends

He's trying SO hard to be normal about this

Trey loves you so much but, he gets a little jealous!

You've done so much with these two!!!

"And Cyno's jokes are the absolute WORST! I swear some of the things he says are worse than Ace's!" "Oh that's... nice!"

but they're your best friends! He really shouldn't be jealous.

"I still don't understand why Alhaitham is so jacked, like all he does is read books all day!"

He really shouldn't be jealous

"And I'm kind of glad its never too hot around here! Like I know he works primarily in the desert but like put a shirt on sometimes! You know?"

But damm its hard.

He tries to be subtle (not really)

"So have you ever like... done anything with one of these guys?" "What do you mean?" "Like have you dated one of them..?"

oh.... OH!

You laugh at that, he's embrassed "Oh gosh NEVER! They both have boyfriends anyhow! Alhaitham is engaged!" "Oh."

You nod and give him a little kith

Wow he's relieved!

Azul Ashengrotto

He loves learning about you and your home world! Truly!!!

Azul thinks your mind is briliant, you're so smart and quick on your feet due to years of travel!

With travel comes a lot of experiences

a lot.

without him.

He's playing it cool though! suuuper cool

"Oh I remember Alhaitham would never answer anything that wasnt formatted or completed properly! maybe you could do the same? it would certainly free up some time, no?" "Of course it woudl free up some time, dear... But" "buut?" "Well it wouldn't be fitting of my benevolent nature now would it, my love?"

Azul keeps trying to prove he's a better boyfriend than your old friends

He needs you to know he's the best option for you <3

"And could this 'Cyno' make you a delightful seafood pasta like this?" "No, not really, he was more into rice." "I see..."

Oh hey he made you curry and rice

You know, by the way. He is NOT sneaky

After another bout of showing off, you finally say something.

"They have boyfriends, you know?" "huh?" "Cyno and Alhaitham? they have partners. You don't have to be jealous." "Why would I be jealous, dearest?"

DENIER

Denies his jealous to this day but he gets happier after you reassure him.

Jade Leech

Yeah he's super cool about this!

for the most part...

He's extremely interested in learning about the flora in your world!

and he thinks those vishap creatures you compare him to sound rather interesting.

Jade being rather curious in nature comes in handy! since he doesnt seem to get jealous.

His questions are... odd, though. they kind of make sense?

"Cyno once took out like-- 10 guys in like a MINUTE! it was so cool! "Is he that fast in the depths of the sea?" "No-" "I see..."

Sometimes he's a little less slick though

"OH my gosh Alhaitham is so weird about soup! He hates the stuff because it could get on his books of all things!" "Does he consume beverages as he reads? tea perhaps?" "Yeah, sometimes." *Pleased eel noises*

He's just being careful :)

Jade often prefers to dicuss your best friends while in the kitchen. he likes spending this time with you!

And he has his knives and mushrooms at his disposal.

*chop chop chop* "And so Haitham and I used to skip out on akademiya meetings together-" *chopchopchop-* "But Cyno would ALWAYS 'catch' us just before the meeting would actually ends-" *ChopChopChopChop-* "So then he'd bring us to Kaveh, Alhaitham's fiance to-" "He has a fiance?" "yeah,why?" "no reason." *chop~ chop~ chop~*

He's still keeping the information from his... questioning in mind.

Can't be too careful, after all.

Floyd Leech

He loves his shrimpy's stories!!!

He hates his shrimpy's stories :((

Floyd is reaaal conflicted. He thinks you're so interesting! your world seems like fun!! he wants to go there with you.

But not with those men you keep talking about

"So sometimes there are these HUGE mushrooms that kind of act like a launchpad! they're super springy." "Eh? Jade might like soemthing like that... OOOH! do ya think if I throw someone (Ace) on one of those they'd still bounce?" "Yeah they would! one time while going after a criminal, Cyno had to-" "Eeeeh I'm bored. You coming to my next game?"

Subtlety? not THIS eel

He audibly groans when you bring them up sometimes.

But he still loves hearing you talk! so it really confusing sometimesz

"So genius invocation uses 8 elements, 7 from the nations, one is omni. Usually the cards are based off of vision users like Diluc of mondstadt, Arataki Itto, from Inazuma... OH! there is one of my best friend, Alhaitham, he's dendro and Cyno's is electro, its actually" Oh he's no longer looking at you.

You get an idea... "There is one of Haitham's fiance, Kaveh" "Oh really?"

GOT HIS ASS

You're his girlfriend, you know him best.

He's a little less weird about listening to your stories now, he's way more enaged.

He still tugs you closer to him when you mention other men, but thats kind of normal for him now.

Jamil Viper

A confident king? He's not really jealous. He knows he can be better than them.

Plus they're just friends to you.

But in all honestly he like... doesn't care too much about Teyvat.

You're here now, with him. not them.

Don't get him wrong, Jamil likes hearing about what your world!

There's only oneee little thing he doesnt love hearing.

"Sometimes I miss the food from Teyvat... Cyno always made the best Tahchin." "The best you say?" "Yeah! he shaped it like a pyramid every time he made it!" "Have you ever tried mine?" "You make tahchin!?"

He's smug, you'll love his cooking more than that Cyno's.

He serves you a plate of tahchin, golden brown, perfectly seasoned, barberries topping the rounded rice dish "So, what do you think?" "This is so good! I kind of miss the padisarah petals though.."

The hell is THAT?

"Is it... not up to your expectations, my flower?" "No its delicious! I think I just miss the way my friend would make it.."

He's a little grumpy about it!!

Jamil gets kind of huffy with you next time you're together.

He's not ignoring you but just don't bring up food for a while.

Snake man will just respond with "Why don't you ask Cyno." when it comes to cooking for the next day or two...

[seraphicloves]

𝒊𝒎 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒕

⊱✿⊰ summary: leo has a thing for you, something he should not be feeling at all. you're the opposite of him in every way, a villain of sorts. but your touch is a drug he can't help but continue to take.

⊱✿⊰ warnings: very suggestive, making out, enemies to lovers (?), leo is a dork ofc, the personality's might be a tad off since i haven't written for tmnt in ages, fem reader bc i write for me lol, written by a 16 yr old

⊱✿⊰ notes: IM BACK WITH A TMNT FIC!! i had a dream while i was napping where i made out w leo but i was like his enemy and it was fire asf

Leo knows he should have turned back as soon as he saw your silhouette, one he has gotten much too accustomed to. You were evil- tainting his heart with every delightful touch or whisper.

He should have turned back, but he was weak. He kept going, feet pressed firmly into the ground. His fingers twitched nervously, unsure if he made the wrong decision. He was supposed to try and detain you, not wonder if you thought of him as much as he thinks of you.

"Hi there, Blue." You purred, suddenly slipping out from the shadows. You were as goregous as always, wearing that tight suit that accentuated every curve. He wanted to grab you; place his large palms on your hips and consume you.

"You shouldn't be here," He said curtly, trying to keep his reactions as calm and relaxed as possible. He was a hero, he needed to keep it together. At the very least so his brothers won't find out how much of a dork he is. "You know I have patrol and I'll need to stop whatever plans you have going on."

You laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. How could one so malicious look so sweet? You were like a nightmare disguised as a daydream- a candy coated poison. You were soft and delicate, looking so very human compared to him. But was it hard to look human compared to someone as.. grotesque as him?

Leo was not usually one for insecurities, unlike his brothers. But being around you made him remember just how different he was from the everyday teen. He couldn't meet you outside of these late night meetings, he couldn't be friends with you. He could only be the hero in the night, saving New York from whatever you were planning on stealing.

"Aww c'mon," You said, stalking closer to him. You stopped until you were right in front of him, letting your fingers caress his plastron. Leo's breath hitched, trying to concentrate on the conversation and not where your touch sent sparks through his skin, "Do y'think New York is gonna miss a couple of diamonds? I think they look real good in my hands."

He narrowed his eyes at you, forcing himself to stop the urge to pull you in for a kiss. Your lips tasted sweet, he was almost certain. Maybe they were soft or a little bit chapped, he didn't particularly care. As long as it was your lips touching his.

Fuck, he really needed to get control of himself. This was entirely insane. How could you get his mind spinning so quickly?

"I'm not going to let you steal diamonds. What do you even need them for?" Leo replied, trying to appear strict. He didn't want you to realize how quickly you could bring him to his knees if you felt like it.

"Pretty girls deserve pretty things, don't you agree?" You hummed, twirling around Leo while wearing that notoriously sly grin. Maybe he should tell his brothers about you, simply so he could stop the insanity that was happening within his head.

"I think criminals like you need to be stopped," He suddenly said, grabbing your wrist when you attempted to touch him again. He pushed you against the wall, holding your arms above your head.

And the look you gave him was purely sinister. What sort of evil plans might you have concocted? Did you know how you made him feel when you looked at him like...like that.

With parted lips and eyes blown out wide. You looked so...shocked by his actions as if it was surprising he was capable of flustering you. And yet here you were, blushing over the blue masked hero.

"You need to behave," He said sternly, (surprising himself with his sudden domineering tone) and he looked at you. You were helpless beneath him, both because he was holding your arm- and your heart.

With a boldness that he hadn't realized he had, he leaned in very close. His breath fanned across your cheek, his lips brushing aganist your own. "Unless you want me to punish you."

The little hitch of your breath broke his will to resist you. Hungrily, he smashed his lips into yours. He kept you pressed aganist the wall as he kissed you, full of passion and a forbidden desire for more.

You pressed back into him, your soft lips slotted between his. He wasn't used to this, kissing a girl like he was an average guy. But somehow it felt perfectly right. You were pressed aganist him and you were kissing him and everything felt so perfect.

Leo shouldn't be doing this. It was your first kiss but somehow it felt more like a snake bite. You were sinking your venom into his skin and tainting his heart until it would only react to you. He was in deep, deep enough he was sure to drown.

You pulled away finally, taking large gulps of air as you stared at him. Your face was warm, like you were blushing and your eyes were hazy with a sort of emotion that made Leo's brain short circuit.

"Holy shit," You murmured, still a bit dazed from the kiss..well kisses. You slumped aganist the wall and said with a half hearted grin, "If that's your version of a punishment, I ought to steal even more."

Leo blushed and looked away, trying to regain his senses. Then he heard a noise, a slight chatter. Shit, his brothers are sure to be checking up on him.

He pulled away and let you go, not looking at you as he said seriously, "Get out of here before my brothers find you."

You blinked at him, processing his words. Then you replied, "You're going to let me go? What about-"

Leo gave you a single look, his stern expression softening for a second before he said, "Don't make me regret it, [Name]."

That was all it took to convince you to get the fuck out of there. You slipped through the shadows, disappearing just as Leo's brothers appeared.

"Were you talking to someone, Nardo?" Mikey asked, tilting his head curiously.

"No, it was nothing." Leo lied, still watching the spot where you disappeared. Then he turned back to his brothers,trying to ignore that feeling in his chest.

The feeling that said he wouldn't be able to get over you for a very long time. You ensnared him, and he wasn't all that sure he was upset about it.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[altraviolet]

i love TEG so much, re-reading it is like a hobby to me now, and not once do i get bored. it has such in-depth writing and subtle details that i never noticed until like the 5th time reading it (>○<) i swear it just clicked to me through my 2nd rereading that SW could've been a GOD? HELLO??? HAHA. ig thank primus he didn't??? but wow, it really goes beyond how much SW's love means when his idea of godliness, or i guess infinite knowledge, is from Rodimus' compassion and just genuine kindness, and I'm like ??♡♡¿♡??♡♡! UGH!!! BEUTIFUL.

I'm rambling, but wow, just wow. i think i was supposed to ask something? but i guess i forgot lol (T^T) one of them i do remember is: could you give us an idea of what SW's routine or what his everyday life is like now he became like an official non-threatening crew member of the LL / also being Rodimus' beau? (ok maybe not a question but more of a request bc urrrgh I'm so desperate to see more about this whole concept even if it's just crumbs (T○T) but i wanna be respectful and let things be at rest HAHA)

anyway, thank you so much if you read this. you literally ROCK and hope you're having a blessed month so far, and here's to wishing you a blessed year <3 ᕕ(⌐■_■)ᕗ ♪♬

Hi Anon!

What a very lovely message! Thank you! I'm glad you are able to enjoy TEG after so many rereads :) cut for length!

>SW could've been a GOD?

Yes! He could've been... That avenue is pretty much closed off to him now, but SW still feels that innate urge to expand and consume. TEG never addressed that, and that was done by design, so we could have a happy ending xD

Barring some kind of outside interception, SW will eventually need to expand beyond the confines of his own body. I've stated the following a couple of times on twitter/bsky/tumblr, but: a sequel to TEG wouldn't have a happy ending. Not on the current projection of how I've set it up. I was just last night thinking about what a horrifically sad thing it would be to see the Lost Light at the very end. I don't think I could write that fic. But yeah, SW would eventually expand beyond his body, and the next step would be the Lost Light itself. SW's “instrument” is damaged, so godhood might be beyond him anyway, but the thing that actually caused 2938 Megatron to ascend was an enormous expulsion of energy- this was the sacrifice of Vector Sigma and all the sparks on 2938 Cybertron. The energy of all that destruction and death is what allowed him to become a god. SW would never sacrifice the LL's sparks for that [there aren't enough, anyway], so he'd become the ship and then prooooobably not be able to expand beyond that, unless they started sticking more ships to the LL, or he commandeered a space station, or something.

OR. MAYBE. THERE'S ANOTHER WAY which I just thought of just now 👀 We'll have to see if there's ever a sequel

But you didn't ask about the sad ending, lol. You asked about day to day, I'm assuming, after the tier one chore cycle is done. Soooooo sure, I'll give that a try. With no planning, here we go xD

-wake up tangled in Rodimus. Rodimus doesn't want to/doesn't have to wake up yet, so waves him off. SW leaves him and goes to the cafeteria for breakfast

-cursory scans of the ship from the time he wakes up til he goes to sleep. Some he's supposed to do, some he's not. He can't help it, though. It's so delightful to be able to see and hear all along the ship's length. He sees and hears a lot of silly nonsense.

-report for his duty, which is checking the ship's self-scans (checking for hidden damage, a preemptive kind of thing, like how Toaster would check samples of energon for everyone); doing any needed calculations regarding ship trajectory; doing evaluations of nearby celestial bodies for resources or danger; assisting on-duty captain with anything regarding communications if Blaster or Siren are busy; coordinating with Cyclonus and Whirl on anything the outside of the ship needs (any damage or barnacles building up somewhere). He will also, of course, follow any direct orders given to him, and may also serve as consult on matters regarding the fuel quills or chatting with engineering

-after his shift is over, he will probably grab some food and bring it to the rec center and see who's around. If friends are around, he may join in a game, or just watch, depending on what's going on. If no one's really around, he'll head to the arena

-if arena: check in with Mirage and Skywarp to see how the crystals are doing. Ignite anything that needs ignition; check crystals for impurities; work on his own projects. If Nautica joins, he'll drag the harp over and demand (not so much in words, haha) that she play something for him. Then he'll try to learn something new. They're going through Heartstrings's repertoire together. SW has more to practice than he'd like to admit, but he's pretty adept at using his strikemetal gloves

-Rodimus has messaged him privately at least 4 times already complaining about Ultra Magnus or meetings or something dumb someone is doing. SW has been collating all the complaints and stringing them together into something hilarious and troll-y, which he saves for later

-dinner with Rodimus and another couple- doesn't matter who, Rodimus wants to try this double date thing! It's weird for whoever the other two are (unless one of them is very charismatic) but it's really fun for Rodimus. SW stays quiet the whole time but flashes amusing images at the other couple when Rodimus isn't looking at him

-perhaps an evening ship activity? A theme night at Swerve's, or some poetry readings, or maybe a performance in the arena (Skywarp and Mirage showing off a new garden, or SW playing for people), or Movie Night, or games with Rodimus, or maybe a romantic stop in the dead zone to look at nearby nebulae

-and lastly, some very sexy funtime with Rodimus at the end of the day, which SW trolls with the aforementioned troll-y compilations of complaints, which breaks the mood up with laughter, but that doesn't stop Rodimus for long. Nothing can stop Rodimus ;) and SW sure doesn't mind

-shower and sleep, all curled up around Rodimus and very happy

hope you enjoyed! Thanks again for the kind message and for reading! =)

[piinkgore]

Heartless

Pairing: Ramattra x f!reader Summary: It was never in your plans to love a heartless being, and yet there you were: aching for something you could never have  Warnings: pure angst ‘cause I like to suffer over things I create in this silly head of mine. Insecure & rejected reader etc etc to not mention it’s been a while since I wrote anything in English so… maybe the poor writing is a warning itself thanks to insecure writer also lol Word count: 685 A/N: just found this in my drafts, which was supposed to be the fic I would post for my comeback but- before being such a drama queen, I am a shameless slut and always needy for a big robot guy who would surely ignore my burning passion… anyways, delight in the pain as much as I did while writing. Also posted at AO3!!

Sat alone on the bed, hearing your own hasty heartbeats as a requiem to your daydreams, you felt miserable once again as memories cursed you, echoing in your head until they ached. A common sentiment over the past few weeks, maybe months, since you’ve come to realize something that scared you to death: you’ve been in love with someone who could never love you back. 

Omnics, especially those like him, weren’t made to feel, only to destroy. And Ramattra was being formidable in crushing your feelings without a clue. No, maybe not so bluntly. The Null Sector leader surely wasn’t stupid, just as he wasn’t one to care about humans, mostly their questionable emotions: hate, disdain and anger he could cope with, but affection? That was too far from his purview.

Since you’ve met a long while ago, you had stood by his side like a pet, a very obedient one for the record. Once a discarded experiment from Talon who was staring into the precipice of loneliness long before he came along, now more like a tool with something akin to a porpoise. He gave you something to live for, to love, so you fought along Null Sector, gave them your blood, sweat and tears, and none of it seemed enough for you to be loved back, or cherished at least. So, why sacrifice your heart over a lost cause? They, or better, he would never, ever express any kind of gratitude for your commitment.

Or nothing at all, to the matter. 

You actually envy Ramattra. His faceplate is unable to conjure any emotion that could betray his feelings, if he held any. Your face, on the contrary, had plenty to show whenever your feelings threatened to flood from every pore of your being. That’s where the problem began. It was any morning like many others, after so many sleepless nights, but instead of holding back, you’ve made a decision, one that would cost more than you thought at first. 

It began with slightly flushed cheeks, a restless tremble on your fingertips, and that uneasy sensation on your stomach, sometimes cold, sometimes warm enough to heat your skin to a fever pitch. Feeling more exposed than ever, like your chest was being ripped open right in front of him, you thought he deserved to know, to recognize every little thing you felt… so you vocalized them, without a single hesitation. For what? A cold quietness followed.

Maybe he was thinking, maybe he would consider everything you had sacrificed… maybe you’re the one to blame. And still, you came to him with nothing but your bare passion, and returned to your solitude with something else: shame. 

“Why would you say that, human?” his tone was nothing like you thought it would be. Surely wasn’t amused, nor mad.Thing is he acted like it was nothing at all, remaining placid and untouched, as everything you just said meant nothing at all, despite the aching in your heart threatening to consume your very being. “Whatever you have in mind, forget it immediately. You should not be distracted by such frivolous sentiments.”

Shrinking, your mouth fell agape, but no words were poured. Instead, they found themselves stuck to your throat, and the overflow you’re expecting turned to your eyes, sight now blurred thanks to the tears. Your last efforts are invested in holding them back, only a single drop finding its way through your cheeks, meeting your lips with a salty taste that turned bitter on the tip of your tongue. “But, I–” your voice was shaking, lips also trembling to pronounce those two simple words.

“Enough,” Ramattra cuts you off, so sharp his words could be a blade. “I do not wish to hear about it. I can’t have whatever you think you’re feeling interfering in Null Sector’s plans.”

And with that, he buried your heart. Rest in peace, this terribly broken thing, whose shattered pieces may never come together, and shall the endearing pain haunt you from now and forever as you lay in your bed, alone to revive that moment again and again. 

[eldritch-spouse]

Someone who for whatever reason wants to get eaten by Vorticia and so goes to the gluttony ring hoping to find her. They by some miracle get to interact with her but when they beg her to eat them she’s like “lol no,” because it turns out they’re her match

[This is fucking hilarious. Fem reader.]

TW: Macro/micro themes; Vore.

Tightly tied to a chair, you can hear them talk behind the kitchen doors.

" You're telling me you just found this one trying to break into the premises?! " The short imp you've only caught glimpses of so far sounds exasperated.

" Yes... " The much taller demon with a dark mane replies. " She wasn't very successful, but I'm fairly certain her goal was to get caught. "

" And she said she wants to get eaten. " It's not even a question.

" By mother. Specifically her. "

There's a beat of silence.

" Vorago. You can't expect me to present a fetishist to your mother. That is ridicu- "

" Is it? I would much prefer if my meals walked directly into the plate. " The prince counters. " You're doing the poor thing a favor. I've advocated for this in the past as well, think about the time and resources we could spare during ceremonies if we take in people just like her. "

" My prince- "

" Do you like chasing after them, dad? Do you enjoy spending money on increasingly expensive hunting services? "

Dad?! That little imp? Imp-ressive.

" No, but we can't just- "

" Then give this a shot, perhaps it'll open your eyes to more sustainable alternatives. "

An unmistakable defeated sigh rings out. " ... Fine. "

You smile silently, happy that the tusked high-ranker who caught you managed to get your dream to come true. For such a scary-looking guy, he's actually not that bad.

When the doors part, your head snaps towards the curly-horned imp. They spare you a skeptical glance.

" It looks like you're getting what you want after all. "

" Yes! " The cheer is immediate and juvenile, met with a grimace.

" ... Right. " They're clearly uncomfortable. " Undress please. "

Words cannot describe how wildly your heart is beating within your ribcage.

You've been dreaming of this day ever since you discovered the nuances of your sexuality. Queen Vorticia is the most gorgeous, regal, seductive demoness to ever slither upon this galaxy and to feel the caress of her tongue would bring you to a level so beyond Nirvana that you have to contain a freakish noise of delight just thinking about it. Not that it would have escaped very fair, with the strange fruit crammed in your mouth- It's starting to hurt your jaw a little actually...

Yes, you're not the most normal of humans, but that hardly matters now.

The cart you're laid upon is wheeled towards what you assume must be the main dining hall of Gluttony's mansion. The pace is slow, the imps in charge of transporting you dare not displace a single element of your large plate's design. See, upon hearing about your situation through the curly-horned imp, the chefs present decided that it would only be fitting if you got properly and excellently decorated for the occasion.

A few of them sympathized with your situation. Few things are as romantic as loving someone so much that you would like to become a part of them, be consumed by them. One of the girls was a bit emotional hearing you talk so sweetly about the Queen. All in all, you feel lucky to have gotten this far so smoothly.

A noise from beyond crashes your train of thought.

A crash. Hissing.

The imps pushing your cart whimper and look at each other fearfully.

Ah, a tempestuous mood. You wonder what has the Queen like that.

Your chaperones slow down even more, and if you could, you'd stomp your foot on the cart to make them hurry up. You're not about to be left stranded in this hall because these cowards are doubting their life's decisions.

Finally, oh finally, you can see the tall, intricately carved doors to the dinning hall. The last room you'll ever be in, if all goes according to plan. The realization breeds a heavy feeling that causes shortness of breath in you, but for some odd reason, you have no second thoughts about any of this. More servants stand stationary, guarding the doors.

At the sight of your cart approaching, said guards hurriedly open the doors much taller than themselves, seeming frantic in the way they hurry everyone inside.

You have to strain your neck to get a good look at the scenery.

Tones of orange, red and gold shower the room, it's large enough to be mistaken for some kind of bombastic ball room- But you've done a bit of research, and you know the dinning areas are the real focus of the Gluttonous Household.

Little does it all matter. You can't bring yourself to focus on anything other than the absolutely gigantic scaled woman currently seated at a massive, tall table. Her sandy yellow scales glimmer under the jeweled chandelier's light, everything from the twin-tipped tail that lounges across the room to her drooping black robe and pupils nearly as sharp as her eyes make you want to swoon, toes curling in delight.

Queen Vorticia reaches down below, you get to watch the demoness grab a flailing, kicking man by the ankles. He's muffled just as you are, but a lot more bruised and roughed up, trying his damndest to scream past an unforgiving muffler. He knows what will happen to him the moment he's raised in the air, as do you. And there's nothing he can do but close his eyes and accept his fate when the bottomless pit that is the Queen's maw stares back.

One second of mind-numbing anticipation is all it takes, then he's gone. Dropped. Her jaw clamping the second the man was submerged. Hardly a lump forms in the column of her long throat before it's over. With neither a scream nor a whimper, his doom arrives. The Queen however, looks unsatisfied. It's almost as if she didn't even eat anything to begin with, frowning at the wall pensively.

Until the platter that man was in goes flying across the room and nearly rips a chunk out of the wall. It was so fast you barely saw the flash of gold before your human eyes.

Two of the imps escorting you scurry beneath the cart for safety.

" I trussst you've brought me ssomething worthh my time? " Her voice finally rings through.

" Y- Yes, your Majesty! " One of them is brave enough to squeak, rattling the cart and everything on it as he pulls it forward, the others sticking to the back.

You can kind of understand them. Vorticia could easily swipe a hand down and capture two or three of these imps as an appetizer.

" Then hurry! Do you wisshh me to starve here?! "

A slam of a powerful fist causes the ground to quake.

" Never, my Queen! "

In a blink, your platter not only lifted off the cart but rushed onto the table, quickly turned and pushed to be in front of the demonlord herself. You almost get dizzy from all the jostling, and as your vision settles, you see the Queen wordlessly wave before scrambling steps follow. The servants nearly trample each other to leave the room alive.

You don't even look their way.

You can only bore holes into the gorgeous woman before you.

Vorticia raises a brow ridge, humming.

When a single claw descends, you imagine she'll slice your skin, peel you like an apple or go for your innards first. Instead, she stabs a tomato next to your waist and brings it to her lips, tongue roping it inside in a blink.

You're sure she can hear your poor heart thunder in its fickle confines.

" You mussst be the human they mentioned earlier. "

You blink.

" Pretty thhhing, wantss to be my dinner... " She nearly purrs, making something stir low in your belly.

At the way you attempt to frantically nod, she actually cracks a smile, incredulous. Although the hunger you've always yearned for resides in her thin eyes, there's also a hint of genuine curiosity you wouldn't typically see in the gaze of such a predator.

" Hmph. Well I hardly buy it. "

" MmMMF! " Even if you had something eloquent to counter with, muffled grunts are all you manage.

" Don't mumble, it'sss rude. "

She begins flirting with the decorations on your platter again. Every single time, you study the movements of her calloused, scaled hands as they move, waiting for the cut that never comes, the grip that never follows, she simply steals bits and pieces of vegetables and frivolous dressing. You're almost offended for a second. But... The anticipation is actually causing some curious effects in you.

In a way, every single time her claws scheme the platter, brushing over the bare skin of your legs and tickling your sides briefly before retreating with a slice of fruit or veggie, she's playing with you. Having her fun, as both an apex predator and a teasing mistress. Fear mingles with sparks of arousal you've poorly contained thus far, creating a fire that has you sweating under her serpentine gaze.

" You're almossst too cute to eat. " She chuckles eventually. Something wooshes nearby, it takes you a moment to notice it's her large tail.

You notice, rather belatedly, that there's no one else in the room but you and Vorticia, and a suspenseful quiet has fallen between you. You could not have asked for a better environment. It feels as if you're both sharing a very intimate, sacred moment.

The next time her hand dips, instead of skirting around the main course, she tip taps her way up your trembling figure and circles a long claw under the swell of your breast, watching you shiver attentively before edging the decorative leaf covering it. A more than pert nipple catches on her sharp extremity, and she uses a thumb to flick it idly, casually, head tilting at the way you squirm and exhale through your nostrils.

Your other breast is easily uncovered as well. The Queen betrays nothing in her expression when she grabs a piece of bread and soaks it in the condiment that coats your skin, dragging it upwards, swirling it around one of your tits before eagerly devouring it.

This is repeated enough times to drive you a little stupid with want, groaning miserably when she merely teases your tits and continues to torture you with featherlite caresses.

The sweet torture continues when she takes care of the rolls covering your spread legs, watching the shameful state you're in become more and more noticeable. Your cunt flutters beneath her mere stare.

" Ssstrange, I've yet to cut you, and you're already dripping. "

You'd shake your head in denial if you weren't able to feel your own soaked folds right now.

She has the mind-numbingly erotic audacity to grab another useless vegetable decoration and generously coat it in your wetness. The rounded tip of whatever she's pressing against your womanhood bumps your clit. She swirls it intentionally, tapping it down and circling the nub with enough pressure that you strain against your binds and whine behind the gag, wanting to beg her for more yet only drooling pointlessly.

She makes a noise like an amused snort, and when you toss your head back, you can hear her practically slurp the thing for all the flavor it has, her thumb replacing the vegetable and leisurely keeping you stimulated.

When you're able to look back, her pupils have blown wide, the black nearly drowning her acidic sclera.

" To thhhink that, ssomehow, suchh a preciouss gift would fall upon my table... Withhout notice... "

Even if you're loving the attention, heating up like a small fire -Probably enough to cook the ingredients around you- You could never have guessed the Queen would take such an intense liking to you. It feels like a dream.

" Do you wisssh to be eaten, my sssweet morssel? " She curves, shadowing you, strings of drool falling onto your neck and chest.

Her hues acquire a nearly hypnotizing quality, prohibiting you from glancing away while she toys with you. All you can respond with is frantic, vapid nodding while you grind yourself down on her finger like a mutt.

" Truly? "

" MMMhmnn!! "

Not even the gag could have curbed that whorish bleating.

" Then I will. " Vorticia grins wide enough to crinkle the edges of her eyes. " Tonight. In my chambersss. Your wissh comess true, in a way. "

You're not given enough time to rationalize anything before her touch vanishes, leaving you cold and miserable. The snaps of the Queen's fingers attract the same imp you met when this all began.

They look at you with a mixture of confusion and mild caution. " You called, Highness? "

" Yess. Run a bathh for me and my Queen to be. "

He coughs and chokes.

When your head snaps to Queen Vorticia, you find no hint of mockery on her face.

You're fairly certain one of the sauces you were doused in must be causing you to hallucinate...

[luimagines]

*walks on in tiredly, waves, leaves a basket of baked goodies, refuses to elaborate as i promptly leave to pass out for sixteen hours* Well hello there, it’s been a while since I left an ask, life’s gotten busy lol.

Anyway! Once again thank you for all of your work in the fandom and for writing so much for the boys, it’s always a delight to curl up after a hard day with a warm drink and just read everything, it never fails to put a smile on my face and make my day a little brighter, so once again, thank you ^^.

(Also I know this is properly incredibly late but happy anniversary to the blog! I haven’t been able to sit down and just write much of anything for a while else I’d have probably said this sooner, sorry about that.)

Also, uh, beware a long ask ahead? This idea has been consuming me alongside Assassin Reader with Warriors and Lustrous Reader and it’s kind of been intruding in the space the fairy tale au should be at while I’m writing it + Linktober, hope you don’t mind me just sharing it here so it hopefully leaves my system lol.

So I don’t really expect many people in the LU fandom to know about Mili (who is a japanese indie band, really good songs), but I’ve been listening to Summoning 101 and then suddenly blacked out and woke up with the idea of Twilight with an au with Summoner Reader (or any of the boys really, I feel like it would work well for any of them, but especially so for Twi, Time and First).

-So the gist of it would be that Summoner Reader is probably from a world where both magic and modern technology exist (albeit with some challenges and friction between magic users and scientists), probably a little more advanced than Wild’s world. And that they themselves had a Link and a Zelda, a Link on his own journey and a Zelda who was incapacitated but probably trying to get back to them, Summoner Reader gets roped into the adventure because they were close to Link and was really knowledgeable of magic, making several attempts to mix it with science which got them mostly ostricized from society, and they know a lot of Hyrule’s history so he asked for their help in locating Zelda, Summoner Reader agreeing because it would allow them to keep an eye on Link and also gather ingredients to hopefully make a breakthrough that would guarantee many of Hyrule’s older enemies like say, Ganon or Vaati or the like would stay permanently down, even if it means shunting them off somewhere else before they could be sealed to try and break the cycle of reincarnation (I mean if the enemy can’t be killed but can be sealed, then surely there’s some way of sending them back to the netherworld where they came from and make sure they stayed there). Surely nothing could possibly go wrong in the middle of this adventure-

-So. 

Things go wrong in the middle of the adventure.

Link dies sort of things go wrong. 

(Either in battle trying to protect Summoner Reader or trying to get Zelda back, or because at some point Summoner Reader overextended themselves healing him and he was just like, ‘Yeah no I’m not dragging them down with me after this one, I can accept the cost of my wellbeing to save my homeland, I do not accept Summoner’s life being added to the cost.’ And ended up going off on his own, Summoner Reader catching up and, despite their best efforts, being unable to heal him, to the amusement of a certain Darknut shaped shadow.)

So Summoner Reader very clearly panics because none of the stories says there can’t be a hero, and there was no one who is capable enough to take up the mantle (I mean they’re a magician and they know for a fact they’re not hero material, and as far as they know there has only ever been one hero per generation/crisis, even if one crisis is mostly only put on hold until another one can come around and finish it), so they think and think and think, until finally they look at the Master Sword, dormant and silent in it’s scabbard that they had to pry off their Link’s long stiff hands hands, and have an idea.

It’s an insane, foolhardy, and incredibly selfish idea. 

But it can work. It can finish what their Link started, it can save their Zelda.

(It can help ease some of the guilt they feel at failing them both.)

So, they get to work, get some decomposing Wolfos fangs, a lot more powdered moonlight than is probably advised, the Master Sword (it could find things once upon a time couldn’t it? So what if it burns their hands, they will make this work, it will work with the last ingredient they’ll use, it will be worth it-), some of their own blood for the circle-

And half a Hylian.

Desperation drives one to do awful things. If they had enough time maybe they could perfect the spell, if they had enough time maybe Link would have still been there to talk them out of it, for finding a better way-

But their Link isn’t there anymore, is he? And they never had enough time.

(All the stories say is that there has to be a hero, never which one.)

(Summoner Reader was trying to pull literally anyone over that fit the bill,  but I like to think that they were specifically aiming for Fierce Deity while using the remaining power of the Master Sword  and well, since he’s sealed in a mask it kind of just targeted the next closest thing he’s related to, maybe he felt a tug in the mask and kept Time up about it and the poor guy is just very over it  lol)

-So now this can be pre-LU or during LU, but the gist of it, is that because Summoner Reader used decomposing Wolfos fangs, the one they end up pulling through the ritual is Twilight (who maybe was on a journey of his own looking for another way into the Twilight Realm like in the TP manga, maybe because Dusk cryptically informed him there were magical disturbances going on where the mirror once was during one of their weekly wine times or something and he immediately took up the quest).

Needless to say none of them trust one another and there’s a lot of complicated feelings going on there (with Twilight still holding some hope that maybe it was the Twili and promptly being smacked over the head with a brick that it wasn’t and Summoner Reader feeling bad they pulled him into all this and over the demise (hah) of their Link and promptly deciding they’re going to A: Not get attached and B: Not let it happen again so help them goddesses).

The plan is that things will be solved and then they’ll go their separate ways, surely it’s simple enough of a goal to achieve.

Right?

-Things do not, in fact, go according to plan, and these two end up catching feelings along the journey, but end up not saying anything to each other because they’re both terrified of trying to say anything and then immediately losing one another at the end of the journey. Except the choice ends up being robbed of them anyway because an enemy (Dark Link as a monster and already up to his shenanigans being the logical option, the funnier option {for me} being a version of Zant from Summoner Reader’s verse that Twi has already decided It’s On Sight on Principle) catching onto the fact that Twilight should not be there and targeting Summoner Reader and, since they used themselves as a tether to bring and keep Twilight there, immediately ends up opening a road to send him back where he should be. Summoner Reader trying their darnest to pull him back and keep him there and Twilight trying to hold onto them-

But they’re attacked a second time, it causes their hold to slip.

The last thing Twilight sees before he falls through is Summoner Reader crumble to the floor like a puppet with it’s strings cut, and next thing they both know-

He’s gone.

(As you may guess, neither side takes this turn of events well.)

-So! If this is pre-LU, Twilight is eventually called by Dusk again and meets the Chain and, remembering what Summoner Reader did, basically went “... Mysteriously opening portals you say?” and doesn’t ask further questions. If anyone notices he’s a little more aggressive to the Shadow than any of them, or that he always look a little disappointed after looking at the portals, well, they won’t ask the same way they don’t ask about Wolfie. Everyone of them has their secrets they’re not ready to share yet, it will come up in time when he’s ready. 

-Meanwhile Summoner Reader, who’s barely managed to escape alive, hastily gotten themselves healed, has way too much coffee and energy potions in their system and with zero sleep, just managed to break out Zelda on their own after a series of Shenanigans, hastily recreating the ritual on the ground while the Princess is trying her best to hold off Ganondorf on their own so they can finish it even as the Master Sword is quite literally trying to burn their hands off and sacrificing all of their years of research to make this work darn it: Surely it will work this time right? If it worked once then it can work again right? *trying to convince themselves and has been actively overextending themselves even more than they already are*

-Next thing they know the Chain is yanked through another portal, much more violently than the last few times, in the middle of a battle, is that Ganondorf?! Why is the Princess fighting alone? Wait why is Twilight rushing over to that fallen person- is that the Master Sword?!

After they’re done with the urgent matters they are definitely cornering the Rancher for answers.

(For context, Summoner Reader didn’t give up on trying to bring Twilight back, because again, they didn’t finish their quest, and he didn’t want to go, that’s reason enough to bring him back. But due to the Chain being all in one place it was harder to find him among them, so they got… creative, and paid a more extreme price for it in spite of Zelda trying to dissuade them because they were sacrificing all they had. It’s a grand ol’ time.)

Huh, in hindsight this could also connect nicely to a Ga1ahad and Scientific Witchery au. 

Anyway that’s all I’ll  elaborate on for now, because this is long enough as is and I’m tired, sorry for the sudden writing dump lol.

In any case, thank you so much for all of your work in the fandom, remember to take care and thank you so much for inspiring me to write more! I hope you’re having a good day/afternoon/night.

-From A Very Tired WintertimeStoryteller 🐚.

This took a while to get to but woah it was worth the wait.

Frist of all. How dare you? DX

Why must you hurt my boy, Twilight, like this again???

Also, Reader is like.... totally dead. ^.^*

They were being held together with bubble gum, duck tape, and sheer power of will. That last summons would have been enough to put them in a coma. Summoning that many people while being that weak would have definitely caused some organs to shut down. If not just have them drop dead entirely.

I wanna see Twilight see their body, attempt to get to them only to be blocked, and then absolutely lose his mind.

Forget turning into Wolfie. Twilight goes straight feral. Full barbarian- "I would like to Rage," sort of thing.

[teyamskxawng]

In Heat [I]

Lo'ak Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Keep reading: Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV

The rundown: You seek out Lo'ak, your best friend, in the midst of your first heat cycle. Like the good friend he is, Lo'ak eases you through it.

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, language, characters are aged up, minors do not interact!! please

WC: 5.5k

A/N: user @teyamsxawng's first fic is about lo'ak??? yeah...i have neteyam fics in the works but this was the first avatar fic i wrote so i'm pushing it out now :) i'm also really scared to post my work so please be kind lol. i have like six chapters of this fic written so far with no clear ending in sight, so expect to see more of this soon.

Your first heat was about to begin, and you tried to mentally prepare yourself for what you heard would be an excruciating experience. You had a rough idea of what your first cycle would entail–discomfort, fatigue, and a touch of humiliation–but little did you know just how much it would affect you. Bracing yourself for the onslaught, you grappled with an intensity you had never anticipated.

As you lay on your sleeping mat in the solitude of your home, you curled into a tight ball, desperately trying to cope with the nearly-unbearable pain. The sensation was comparable to harboring a living, breathing creature within you, its heartbeat sending shockwaves of agony throughout your body.

You imagined it being a tiny drummer, vigorously banging its drums in tune with your torment. Hopelessly, you squeezed your legs together, desperate for even the slightest relief amidst the immense pressure emanating from your core. Never in your wildest dreams had you expected your heat to be this intense and all-consuming, turning your routine upside down and leaving you at the mercy of your body.

Amid your futile attempts at alleviating the mounting pressure with your own untrained fingers, you realized that you had no clue what the fuck you were doing. Your anxiety levels skyrocketed as you envisioned the possibility of exacerbating your situation, fearing that you'd end up hurting yourself even more if you tried anything on your own.

With every passing moment, your mind betrayed you–compulsively circling back to the one individual you were trying to distract yourself from: Lo'ak, your best friend.

Tackling that emotional behemoth would be a mental expedition akin to scaling the Hallelujah Mountains with your eyes closed, and you lacked the cognitive stamina for such an endeavor. Regardless, the stubborn recollection of the boy proved to be relentless, a mental scratch that demanded to be itched. Memories of his ability to make your world right again resurfaced, and you couldn't help but contemplate that maybe he was the secret recipe to your current dilemma.

You couldn't deny that you were on the verge of making a catastrophically bad decision, one that would go down in your personal history book as an all-time low. However, it was as if your body had mustered all of its strength to overpower your subconscious completely, that annoying little voice of reason, and take matters into its own hands.

Before you knew it, you were on your two feet, feeling slightly wobbly but determined, run-walking out of your tent like a woman on a mission, seeking out your best friend.

You didn't even have to engage in any sort of exuberating journey to figure out where he'd be. It was as if your very soul could smell him.

His clean, robust musk seamlessly mingled with the sweet spice of his cleansing balm, creating an alluring fusion that your senses simply couldn't resist. The aroma captivated you entirely, and you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame, your feet carrying your body toward the source of sensory delight.

Venturing into the forest, you kept a discreet distance from Hometree and the rest of the clanspeople, desiring solitude, with the only exception being Lo'ak.

You stumbled upon him near a shallow creek, his posture keen and attentive as he scanned the water for signs of fish darting through its depths. His back was a mesmerizing sight, his dark blue stripes tracing the outline of his sinewy, lean muscles.

So alluring was the view that you clenched your fists tightly, restraining yourself from fulfilling the irresistible urge to reach out and touch him. It was as if every fiber of your being demanded that you do so, and it took every ounce of your willpower to resist.

Against your will, an entirely embarrassing sound that was half sigh and half whimper escaped your lips. The unexpected noise caused Lo'ak to jolt in surprise, his hand swiftly reaching for the dagger at his hip as he whirled around to confront the sudden intruder.

In a fleeting moment, the anxiety etched on Lo'ak's face dissolved, replaced by mild amusement as he realized it was none other than his best friend. However, it didn't take long for his concern to resurface as he took in your bewildering appearance.

It was clear you were utterly discombobulated, a far cry from your usual poised demeanor. Your cheeks were flushed a deep purple. Your usually sleek, well-groomed hair had gone rogue, appearing as though you had either been tossing and turning in a fitful slumber or wrestling with a goddamn palulukan.

Adding to your unkempt appearance, your chest was drenched in sweat, heaving rapidly up and down as though you had just sprinted to your location yet still found yourself gasping for air. But what really captured Lo'ak's undivided attention, and sent a shiver down his spine, were your eyes.

Gone were the golden irises he knew so well, replaced by a dark hazel hue that was almost brown. Even more disconcerting, your pupils were dilated to an unnerving degree, appearing as wide as your irises themselves.

Without hesitation, Lo'ak rushed to your side and extended his arm to grasp your forearm gently. "y/n, are you good? You look kinda…"

He couldn't even bring himself to finish the sentence. The only way he could describe you was looking completely disheveled. And the sound you made earlier was definitely not something he was going to dwell on.

You blinked at Lo'ak's hand on your arm. You heaved several deep breaths, attempting to compose yourself. Opening and closing your mouth, it was evident you were wrestling with the right words to convey your thoughts. Eventually, you shook your head in defeat and covered your face with your hands, groaning loudly.

Witnessing this only served to heighten Lo'ak's concern. He furrowed his brow as he studied your condition. "y/n?" he inquired nervously, imagining the worst-case scenario.

Still shielding your face with your hands, you managed to mumble something that might've resembled a sentence. Lo'ak couldn't help but let out a snicker that briefly reverberated through his body. Regaining his composure, he tilted his head in confusion, entirely unable to decipher your garbled words. He admitted honestly, "I have no idea what you're trying to say."

You sighed in defeat. The close proximity of Lo'ak, combined with the overwhelming frustration you felt between your legs, completely overshadowed any embarrassment you may have otherwise experienced.

"I said," you started, your dark eyes fixated on Lo'ak's with an intensity he couldn't ignore, "I just started my first heat cycle." Lo'ak's eyes went wide with shock at your confession.

Of all the things he'd imagined you saying, this possibility ranked the lowest on his mental list. He found himself at a loss for words and unsure what to think or do, especially as he involuntarily pictured you in a state of undeniable sexual frustration.

In response, all he could muster was a weak "oh," his voice faltering mid-syllable, making the situation all the more awkward.

You emitted what sounded like a pained groan, your emotions threatening to overflow into tears. In a vulnerable gesture, you allowed your forehead to rest against Lo'ak's shoulder. He couldn't help but tense up in response to your warm body pressed against him.

"Lo'ak," you whispered through clenched teeth, "it hurts so bad."

Lo'ak found himself struggling for air in the tense situation. With a shaky nod, he attempted to comprehend your words and determine the next course of action. As your best friend, it shouldn't have been a shock that you sought him out during your time of need, especially when that need was your first heat cycle.

Lo'ak hesitantly cleared his throat, trying to dislodge the uneasy feeling that had taken up residence there. "Uh. Are you gonna be okay?" he asked hesitantly.

Blinking repeatedly, your eyelashes tickled Lo'ak's shoulder, causing him to shudder. Your voice was filled with uncertainty as you admitted, "I don't know. I can't… I'm scared I'll make it worse or hurt myself or…I don't know. I just need—"

Your grip on Lo'ak's arms tightened, your words trailing off. The message was clear—you had no idea what to do, and you were scared, turning to Lo'ak for solace and support.

In that instant, Lo'ak found himself filled with a sudden surge of empathy and understanding. With newfound determination, he placed his hands on your back, extending his fingers across your skin as he gently rubbed up and down.

Upon feeling his reassuring touch, you exhaled sharply, adjusting your position to bury your face in the crook of his neck. For a while, you two simply remained like that, sharing gentle caresses and the soothing sound of your uneven breaths.

At last, you found your voice amidst the silence. "Lo'ak," you whispered, your tone holding a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability.

It was barely audible, a faint whisper in the wind, yet Lo'ak caught it without any trouble, and he could undeniably sense the subtle movement of your body, inching even closer to his.

At first, Lo'ak couldn't tell whether you had done that deliberately, but then you shifted your weight further down onto his leg, nestling his left thigh snugly between your own two legs, ever so gently grazing yourself on his taut muscle.

Lo'ak had to consciously remind himself to breathe, to inhale and exhale, because there was no way that you could possibly be getting yourself off on his leg. Shamelessly. Completely unapologetic.

The physical contact must not have been enough to provide you any relief, as evidenced by the fragmented cry of aggravation that reverberated against his neck. "It's not…."

Lo'ak fully understood your sentiment, nodding his head empathetically at your frustration. "No, yeah. Here, let's just—"

He pulled away from you, or rather, he gently moved you away from himself, extracting a barely audible whimper from you. He held you delicately by the shoulders, keeping you at arm's length, and his heart plummeted at the sight of the tears that meandered down from your glassy eyes.

You were hurting and in distress, and witnessing it tore Lo'ak apart. In a flurry of motion, he reached out to cradle your face, tenderly wiping away each persistent tear with the pads of his thumbs.

You squeezed your eyes shut, cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration as you tried to keep your composure. His gentle touch drove you to the brink of madness. You loathed feeling so exposed and powerless, particularly in Lo'ak's presence. You took solace in the fact that, at the very least, he wasn't poking fun at you or rubbing salt in your emotional wounds. No, he was actually being kind.

In a soft voice, Lo'ak said, "C'mere," as he retreated towards an enormous tree trunk. Gently placing a hand on your wrist, he coaxed you to follow him. And in your current state of emotional upheaval, you found yourself unable to resist his pull.

Lo'ak found a comfortable spot on the forest floor, casually sitting against a tree trunk with his legs stretched out before him.

"You can sit if you want…it might be easier," he offered, attempting to hide the fact that his own face was now flushed with what could only be described as a matching shade of purple to yours. The tension of the situation was not lost on either of you.

He didn't need to tell you twice. In a move that bordered on comedic desperation, you practically threw yourself onto Lo'ak's lap, settling on his left thigh with a soft sigh. The newly adjusted position felt infinitely better than before. The direct contact sent shivers down your spine, and the pressure on your core momentarily eased as you clamped your thighs around his leg.

You were desperately chasing that tantalizing feeling, and you could hardly bring yourself to feel a hint of shame as your body instinctively pursued it.

With an almost artful finesse, you adjusted your hips to attain the perfect level of pressure on your front. You were acutely aware of the dampness that began to form on Lo'ak's thigh due to your wetness, and even though a flicker of internal mortification plagued you, you simply couldn't find it in yourself to halt your actions.

With each move, you felt Lo'ak's leg flex beneath you, inadvertently applying exquisite pressure against the sensitive nub at your front.

The sensation was nothing short of divine. It was so overwhelming that you couldn't help but let out a moan of pleasure—a sound foreign to your ears but not significant enough to make you care.

Lo'ak, on the flip side, was experiencing an entirely different world.

His senses were fully alert, allowing him to take in every sight, sound, and feeling that unfolded before him in real-time. The whole situation played out like the most incredible, wet, thrillingly vivid dream he had ever encountered.

Desperate to maintain his composure, Lo'ak clenched his hands tightly against his sides, so much so that his knuckles turned a few shades paler than their initial blue.

As he attempted to stay as collected as possible, he couldn't help but wish for some magic remedy to sort out his persistent erection. It pressed uncomfortably against his loincloth at an awkward angle as if it were mocking him.

You unexpectedly interrupted his chain of thought, your voice sounding broken and desperate.

"I'm sorry," you breathed out, your eyes clenched shut as your mouth fell open, unable to suppress another moan. "just feels so good."

Lo'ak observed you with the utmost attention, his heart clenching tightly within his chest. In a barely audible volume, he softly reassured you, "Don't apologize; it's okay. Do what you have to do."

He was confident that, despite his subdued tone, you could hear and understand him fully.

You inhaled deeply, your breath quavering as you attempted to calm yourself down. Your tongue swept across your parched lips, and you swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in your throat. You found yourself unable to respond, yet continued experimenting with different rhythms and levels of pressure, determined to find the optimal approach to take yourself to the verge of ecstasy.

As your quest yielded fruitful results, you began better understanding your body.

With every sway of your hips, you experienced a surge of delight that coursed through your entire being. Each motion brushed your most sensitive areas against Lo'ak's narrow, muscular frame, sending chills up your spine.

You could feel your breaths growing shallower and more rapid, the warmth of your breath caressing Lo'ak's skin as your eyes remained tightly shut in indulgence. You allowed yourself to fully enjoy the moment, unabashedly taking advantage of his presence for the sake of your own pleasure.

As you continued, the tension within your abdomen stretched further and further, like a taut rubber band about to snap. Beads of sweat formed on your glistening skin, and your panting filled the air.

The overwhelming sense of pleasure threatened to pour forth, and your toes instinctively curled in response to the inevitable release building inside you. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you let out a delicate mewl while elevating the speed of your motions.

You uttered desperately, "I'm so close, Lo'…fuck. It's so much." Your voice, filled with raw emotion, dripped with anticipation.

As that blissful sensation intensified within your lower abdomen, teetering on the edge of release, Lo'ak took a deep swallow. His voice was low and throaty as he softly whispered to you, providing reassurance and encouragement, "You're okay, y/n. Just let yourself go."

His words were just what you needed, a string of curses falling from your lips as you felt your orgasm wash over and your walls clench around nothing. Your face softened with pleasure as you let out a shaky exhale, still sliding your now completely oversensitive clit across his thigh.

With a whispered sigh, Lo'ak reassured you, "Just like that, I've got you. It's okay." His hands tenderly left their perch at his sides, returning to the relative safety of your back. Gently, he stroked your soft skin, providing comfort as you descended from the peak of your intense high.

His soothing words and embrace gave you warmth from within, a sensation of security wrapping you up like a comforting blanket. You couldn't deny the feelings that Lo'ak's presence evoked in you.

At this point, one would presume you had suffered enough self-inflicted humiliation for a single day, but no.

As quickly as you bid farewell to your recent high, an insistent, throbbing ache woke anew within your deepest core. The previous experience proved a mere prequel, a teasing overture for the reverberating need you knew you just could not ignore. Your desires for touch and release cried out incessantly; Lo'ak was nestled beneath you all the while, painfully tempting—so close yet so frustratingly far.

With a gulp of determination and an unceremonious discard of any remaining semblance of pride, you peeled your eyes open, greeted by the half-lidded, entranced gaze of Lo'ak. His voice laced with curiosity; he inquired, "Is it better?"

You knitted your forehead together, desperately attempting to articulate the whirlwind of feelings that surged through you. It was a monumental challenge, one that left your mind racing with a relentless barrage of risqué thoughts involving what you desired Lo'ak to do to you.

Sighing, you muttered to yourself, "How is it still there?"

Lo'ak, on the other hand, was doing everything in his power to grasp the situation and figure out how he could alleviate your distress.

Puzzled, he inquired, "How is what still where…?"

In response, you actually hissed at Lo'ak, baring your fangs and all, unable to contain your frustration. He was so stupid. So warm and strong and pretty and stupid. You thought this as your eyes roamed over his strong, warm, and undeniably attractive figure.

"The urge, skxawng!" Your body involuntarily responded by undulating your hips against Lo'ak's leg. His eyes drifted downward for a moment to follow your movements before refocusing back on your face with concern.

You continued to explain, "The urge to be touched, I don't know why it's still there."

Suddenly, you glanced down at your own body, only then becoming aware of the rhythmic motion you had been unconsciously performing. In an effort to regain some semblance of control, you dug your fingernails into your thighs, willing your body to cease its movements.

Lo'ak grunted at the sight of you holding yourself back, the grip on your legs tight enough to cut off your circulation. Unable to stand it anymore, he pried your slender fingers from your thigh and gently took your hands in his own, much larger ones.

He tried to make eye contact with you but soon realized you were lost in your thoughts, staring intently at your lap. With a bit of patience, he finally managed to catch your dark irises when you fleetingly looked up at him.

"Okay," he began earnestly, "just tell me what I can do to make it better."

Though a bit hesitant, his voice was full of sincerity and determination.

Much to his surprise, your eyes widened even further. Shock, hope, and a dash of something else filled them all at once. He was really giving you complete freedom, entrusting himself to you to alleviate the pain of your heat.

With that, you decided to take the leap. "I want you to use your hands on me," you murmured, bringing yours and Lo'ak's intertwined hands toward your abdomen.

You watched Lo'ak's facial expressions with keen interest as you hesitantly guided his fingers to your most intimate spot. Despite the thin fabric separating his digits from your flesh, you couldn't suppress the breathy moan that escaped your lips.

"Right there," you continued, your voice trembling as you released your grasp on Lo'ak's hand. To your immense relief, his fingers didn't retreat. Instead, they maintained gentle pressure, sending pleasant tingles throughout your lower body.

Suddenly, it was as if Lo'ak had awakened from a daze. He looked up at you with curious desire evident in his eyes but still managed to convey his genuine concern.

"You're sure?" he inquired with the utmost caution, seeking all the verbal affirmation he could possibly get. No matter the circumstance, he would never let himself exploit you in such a vulnerable state.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance at Lo'ak's search for reassurance.

You couldn't help but think that Lo'ak asking for consent would be an irresistible turn-on under any other circumstance. However, given your state of urgent need, you craved immediate physical touch and control, no questions asked.

In a display of impatience, you threw your head back in exasperation, your own hand carelessly venturing beneath your loincloth to explore the fiery depths of your core.

"Please," you managed to utter, despite never being one to steep as low as begging. It was embarrassing, but that was genuinely the only word that managed to take shape in your mind amidst your overwhelming desires.

Lo'ak, finally sensing the critical nature of the situation, offered a hastened nod to the increasingly desperate girl before him. His heart pounded with exhilaration as his trembling fingers made short work of loosening your loincloth.

Captivated, his eyes were drawn to the now fully exposed treasure that lay between your legs.

Despite the circumstances, an undeniable blush spread across your cheeks, leaving you feeling more exposed than ever before.

With utmost care, Lo'ak gently guided your legs further apart. His fingers, like tendrils of affection, traced a delicate path around the contour of your knee and then traveled along the length of your inner thigh. Their journey didn't end until they arrived at your already glistening core. A single, adventurous fingertip glided gingerly along your lips before hesitantly prodding at your entrance. Your spine stiffened involuntarily, a sharp gasp emitting from your lips.

"Shit. Does it hurt?" Taken aback, Lo'ak's eyes widened as he witnessed your intense reaction—his reassuring self-assurance evaporated.

He immediately interpreted your pinched expression as a sign of hurt or discomfort. Alarmed, he became a living statue, daring not to move a muscle, his finger maintaining its intrusion of the slightest degree.

With an air of bewilderment, you stammered, "No, it's just so different," struggling to put your experience into words.

"Is that a bad thing?" His panicked gaze searched for your eyes.

Trying your best to control your emotions, you responded with a bit of a quiver in your voice, "No. No, it's really good. Keep going."

Lo'ak let out a shaky, relieved exhale, thankful that he wasn't causing you any discomfort. He proceeded with a short nod, allowing his finger to submerge into your eager embrace.

Your jaw went slack, eyes flickering in surprise, head tilting back as you reacted to the new, fuller sensation. The taut muscles in your abdomen quivered as you fought the urge to press yourself against him even further.

Lo'ak maintained a leisurely rhythm with his finger. A tender whimper escaped your lips as you adjusted to the near-overwhelming sensation, waves of undiscovered pleasure enveloping you, easing the fiery longing at your very core.

"Shh, you're okay, y/n," Lo'ak murmured softly, the hushed vibration of his words coursing through your entire body. A warmth flooded your face, and you quickly looked down, suddenly feeling feverish.

Seemingly unfazed, a second of Lo'ak's fingers joined the first, proceeding at their unhurried speed while your own hands struggled to find something to occupy, something to keep you grounded in reality.

You reached a hand out to grasp his shoulder–your grip probably bordering on painful–while your other hand covered your mouth in a hopeless bid to stifle the embarrassing sounds you kept unconsciously making.

"Oh, fuck." You mumbled, your hips twitching as his thumb grazed over your swollen clit.

An overwhelming wave of delight crashed over you, unlike anything you'd ever experienced. It built in the pit of your stomach, erupting into a continuous stream of moans that escaped from your lips while Lo'ak performed the entrancing move once again.

With one last deft stroke of Lo'ak's thumb, you reached the peak of your sensations. All you could do was mumble out an embarrassed string of apologies as you shattered around him, legs shaking, your entire body trembling from the sheer intensity of your second climax.

"No, you don't have to apologize. That's it, there you go." Lo'ak whispered above you, his hands securely gripping your hips. He watched you in a mixture of amazement and disbelief as you came undone on top of him.

In the aftermath of your unforeseen encounter, you and Lo'ak found yourselves sitting together in a tense, stunned silence.

Lo'ak's fingers remain deeply lodged inside your warmth, a vivid reminder of the unexpected turn your meeting had taken. While slowly regaining composure, Lo'ak's thoughts naturally drifted to his own throbbing predicament. He fervently attempted to push those intrusive musings aside, focusing all his mental strength (what little of it he had left) on anything else that might've provided a reprieve.

To distance his mind further from his own problem, Lo'ak mustered up the courage to break the otherwise heavy silence.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, he managed to ask, "How about now? Does, uh. Does it feel better?" His question, though well-intentioned, seemed to hang in the air, almost as if it were searching for a suitable landing spot.

Still catching your breath, you eventually acknowledged Lo'ak's efforts. With a meek nod and a quiet, "Yeah. Thank you," you did your part in attempting to lift the air of awkwardness that had befallen the two of you.

In response, Lo'ak merely mimicked your nod, his gaze drifting back to the delicate situation of his hand's continued connection with your lower half. A determined expression graced his face as he gently gripped your waist, carefully guiding his fingers free from your tight warmth.

The ridiculously obscene squelch of the movement caused you both to flush, despite everything you'd just done with each other.

As his fingers slid away, moistened with your slick, you were overtaken by a deep, almost primal desire to capture every last trace of yourself from his fingers. You felt absolutely unhinged.

Lo'ak, completely unaware of your internal struggle, stared at his own hand, held up between the two of you. His eyes widened in disbelief and amazement as he realized the impact his touch had on you.

Unsure of how to handle his newfound emotion, Lo'ak stealthily tried to wipe his hand on the lush grass beneath him, but your sudden vice-like grip stopped him.

Your eyes blazed with a mixture of desperation and wild abandon, yet you couldn't bring yourself to explain your overwhelming urge.

Instead, you gently guided Lo'ak's hand close to your face and took two of his soaked digits into your mouth. A soft moan escaped your lips as you savored the taste, feeling the fullness of his fingers as they filled your mouth.

You hastened your efforts in cleaning them, the graceful movement of your lips against his skin bringing you a sense of intense warmth and satisfaction as the previously overwhelming sensations within you began to subside. Finally, you released his hand, but not before planting a series of tender licks across his fingertips, ensuring that nothing remained.

As you finally met Lo'ak's eyes, you became painfully aware of the fact that you had just come on your best friend (twice).

Not only that, but you had to go and make matters even worse by practically worshiping his fingers with your mouth. The heat in your cheeks intensified as you gingerly placed Lo'ak's hand back in his lap.

With a desperate need to refocus your attention, you quickly averted your eyes from the boy to avoid being tempted by any further impulsive behavior. You busied your fingers with the painstaking task of reattaching your undone loincloth, double knotting the ties as if that would erase the memory of your exposed lower half from Lo'ak's mind.

Managing only to utter a brief "Sorry," you could sense the tension in the air. It was almost palpable.

Lo'ak, however, responded with a calming and reassuring deep voice, "You don't have to apologize."

You snorted inwardly at the thought that that was at least the third time he had said some variation of those very words to you in the last ten minutes alone.

You offered a subtle nod, unable to bring yourself to look at, speak to, or even touch your friend at that moment.

In a sudden, jerky movement, you disentangled yourself from his leg. You planted yourself on the forest floor, sitting against the same tree trunk that supported Lo'ak.

You couldn't help but glance back at his thigh, noticing the glistening evidence of your prior proximity. Your heart must have stopped beating for a good few seconds. You squeezed your eyes shut, mentally chanting a string of curses in a bid to cope with the irrepressible embarrassment that swept through your body.

The tense silence that ensued felt like an eternity, each moment stretching out painfully while the muted sounds of the Pandoran forest hummed in the background. Your mind raced, desperately trying to come up with an escape plan.

You really, really needed to leave. Like, yesterday. But you were still firmly rooted in your spot, too terrified to move even a muscle.

Then, without warning, the quiet was shattered by the violent rustling of leaves nearby. As if summoned by your wishful thinking, Neteyam appeared through the greenery. He wore an exasperated expression upon seeing you and his brother sitting together against the tree.

"Lo'ak! Dad sent you to fetch a single fish thirty minutes ago! What are you doing?!"

Neteyam's patience was wearing thin as he grabbed his brother by the arm, dragging him to his feet, his eyes probing for a reasonable explanation.

"Shit, bro. I'm sorry! I was fishing, I swear. But then I ran into y/n, and…" Lo'ak's voice trailed off, his eyes darting toward you as he recalled the events that transpired during your brief encounter. "…she just needed my help for a minute. It was really important."

Neteyam exhaled loudly in frustration, clearly annoyed at his brother's excuse. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, gathering his composure, and then fixed his glare upon Lo'ak, followed by you.

His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized you both, sporting matching blushes and attempting to maintain nonchalant expressions. Neteyam knew you two all too well; you were always getting into some kind of mischief together.

But today, he decided, he could spare you the grilling session. With an exaggerated shake of his head, he urged Lo'ak toward the direction of the creek, giving the back of his brother's head a not-so-gentle nudge as he passed by.

"A single fish," Neteyam mumbled, running a hand over his braids in disbelief as he glared at his brother.

You sensed that your chance for a getaway had finally arrived–it was now or never.

Your muscles tensed, eager to lengthen the gap between yourself and Lo'ak (or any other living being within your vicinity, for that matter). You sprung to your feet and hastily ran your fingers through your tousled hair, attempting to tame its disarray. You smoothed your top and made sure that your loincloth was properly adjusted.

"I should get going," you stammered, trying to swallow your nervousness. "I have some…um…chores I need to finish."

Both boys turned their attention toward you, with Neteyam giving you an amicable nod while donning a warm smile. Lo'ak, for his part, offered you a tender smile of his own, causing you to stifle the shy grin that threatened to conquer your entire countenance.

As you stood there, poised for your great escape, you were reminded of the delicacy and reassurance that radiated from Lo'ak just a few minutes prior.

Lo'ak, typically the embodiment of immaturity—a foolhardy best friend in the purest sense—managed to make your heart flutter with his tender warmth, nurturing you through your dire ordeal. He took care of you, offered praises and soothing words, and fuck. You wanted it again and again.

Abruptly, you snapped out of your daydream, realizing you were meandering down a dangerous tangent. You shook your head, as though physically trying to jolt your mind back into reality.

"Thanks, Lo'ak," you managed gratefully, making eye contact with him for just a bit longer than was probably necessary. "I mean it. For helping me."

Lo'ak, seemingly caught off-guard by your intense gaze, replied with a faint but earnest, "Course."

All the while, Neteyam couldn't help but furrow his brows at your peculiar exchange, very much aware of the odd dynamic between you two.

Sensing the need to move forward, Lo'ak immediately added, "Let me know if I can help you again."

Blushing at the implication, you nodded your head vigorously, fully aware that a similar scenario might very well arise in the future.

You offered a hasty wave to the two brothers before you spun around and embarked on your journey back to your home, navigating the wild landscape, distractedly ducking under low-hanging branches and batting away intrusive leaves.

There was no way you were making it through your first heat cycle alive.

Keep reading: Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV

[mexicanpadfoot]

2024 Fanfic Journal

I tried, gimme a star sticker please ⭐️

Last year was fun because not only I joined the Marauders fandom and stopped experiencing happiness, I also tried my hand at being a ✨thoughtful journaling girlie✨ which obviously didn’t last long lol. But regardless of my lack of artistic skills, I sorta finished my calendar overview!

These are not all the fics I read, they’re only the long-ish ones (over 40k I believe) that could count as a book if someone asked me why I spend four hours a day reading. I read the fantabulous amount of 124 fics and books, mostly fics, during the year. Each square in the calendar represents a day, so I can recall how much I read that day.

Now for the Hall of Fame! 🪄

These fics are my personal crème de la crème that I either read or reread during 2024. I’ll go out on a limb and recommend every single one of them because they’re outstanding, pieces of literary perfection, holy scripture. Of course I just started out with the Marauders in 2024, but there’s also some S-tier Dramione in there. Here are the links, in no particular order because, how could I?

Chew me up but don’t spit me out by damagecontrol.jpg, Jegulus.

Stripper!Regulus and Sugar Daddy James? Latino James, who makes me feral? Black brothers angst? Gender discoveries, euphoria, found family, drama because of course, and also great smut? This fix was like if Nic waddled into my brain, wringed out the story I didn’t deserve but 1000% needed, and clicked post. Also the epilogue is in Jalisco, Mexico, where I’m from? Insane 20/10.

But what a way to go by R33sesPieces, Wolfstar.

I believe this is Crack treated seriously? ITS SO GOOD! Remus is a serial murderer, he marries nasty rich old dudes and offs them. His next target? Sirius Black, of course. Except Sirius totally knows and it turns him on? Murder attempts as foreplay should be added to the tags. It’s funny. It’s hot. It has idiots in love that are trying to kill each other. The side characters are up to no good either. It’s amazing. Also, Reese is a delight, their notes and answers to comments are so thoughtful and make me feel like I’m reading something my friend wrote.

Dear Your Holiness by MollyMaryMarie, Wolfstar, some Jily.

This fic gave me total Fleabag season 2 vibes. If that isn’t enough to sell you on it, Priest!Remus and Seductress-from-hell!Sirius should. The slow burn slow burns soooo good, there are discussions of religion, identity and doubt in a way that wrapped my little deconstructed from religion heart in a warm blanket, but it’s also half secret identity, half texting fic? It’s to die for!

Only the Brave by Solmussa, Jegulus, Wolfstar.

I don’t think I need to tell you about Only the Brave. It’s dark. It’s heart-wrenching. Regulus is a certified badass in this. James, as always, is a simp for that man. It has one of my favorite “Sirius finds out” in the whole universe. The characters feel like adults, like people, not just characters, you know? Incredible. I actively fight my tbr every day to go back in and reread.

Crimson Rivers by bizarrestars, Jegulus, Wolfstar, Dorlene.

I actually resisted reading this one for the longest time (five months is a long time, they said) because crossovers have never really been my thing. BOY WHAT A DISSERVICE. The Hunger Games is an amazing series and Harry Potter is not, but damn does Zar deliver. I really know my Hunger Games lore and still I was on the edge of my seat. I went through so much pain. It’s beautiful. Also, James with a knife kink? Hilarious.

Circle of the sphinx by SanguisDominia, Dramione.

A new pureblood terrorist group on the rise, a stuck Potions Mistress and teacher at Hogwarts Hermione, a secret society that protects its members identity with strange, obscure magic, vampires, grand balls and Hermione having to learn how to ride a broom? This consumed me for four days, I ignored all my other responsibilities. The reveals? The animagus secrets? That one murder omg iykyk?

BLOODY, SLUTTY AND PATHETIC by WhatMurdah, Dramione.

Holy shit this was hot. Bantery. Believable. Grown adult characters dealing with a shitty Marriage Law. But there’s also Black family magic going on, bribery, fuckery, Theodore Nott being a little shit, Neville being a badass Plant DaddyTM. It’s so fun, they even gaslight the press in this. 11/10.

Love and other historical accidents by PacificRimbaud, Dramione.

Time travel Regency(ish) AU! Wearing cravats! Pretending to be siblings! leeching off a poor old man Idiot 1 and Idiot 2 claim is their cousin! I ADORE the cousin with all my heart. Messing around with Time Turners! Scandalizing the ton! Broom racing! Petty Jealousy! Take your pick, it’s all done perfectly in this. I found it so dammingly endearing. I hold it close to my heart.

Divination for skeptics by OlivieBlake, Dramione, PottNott.

I’m a depressed bitch, humor isn’t usually my thing. This one made me CACKLE so much I had to get my inhaler. Best banter ever. Everyone is deranged in this. The PottNott is not what you’re expecting but also it’s exactly what you think you’ll get after reading a couple pages. Theo attempts to rob Gringotts just to get Harry’s attention. It has one of my favorite confession scenes ever.

Draco Malfoy and the Mortyfing Ordeal of Being in Love by isthisselfcare, Dramione.

Another classic I’ve reread so many times. Killer nuns, lycanthropy, toodling about the country side, human on mushroom violence. Also Brigitte got mainstream published? So proud of that girlie.

Final thoughts 🕺🏻

Im excited to do this again now that I’ve got an idea of what it actually entails, and now that I’ve read most of the very popular fics in the fandom. I’m having a blast reading smaller authors and discovering more amazing works. I’m delving into other fandoms also and reading WIPs with more hope and strength because damn it’s hard but also authors are the backbone of the community and they deserve to be hyped while they write, for free, for us!

This year I’ll be using erins_escapism ‘s fanfic tracker spreadsheet as well to document shorter fics I read as well. It’s incredibly well done, check them out on instagram if you’re curious!

I’d love any recs you’d like to share, specifically Drarry and wlw ships that are not Dorlene, for some reason I just don’t vibe with those two girlies. And if you see something too freaky no you didn’t, thank you very mucho.

Don’t like, don’t read, support creators, break a leg, you know the drill. I download most if not all of what I read so if you need help finding something or getting a file, send me a message :)

Love you, funny people on the internet that sometimes like what I post 🩷✨

[anotheroceanid]

Deleted Scene from Chapter 4

Because I don't think I'll manage to finish chapter five for this weekend, so at least I'll post something. It was meant to take place between one of Percy's interaction with Medea, it's a flashback from when she met Circe in the events of SoM.

I might use it in a different chapter, or rewrite it, btw, enjoy lol

Percy had met her aunt a few years ago… Not, not a few. Thirteen at the time, freshly out of seventh grade. Not much older than her sons, an impressionable child still lost in the new world she had been thrown at, to whom Circe had offered a place. A safe place, far from gods, far from danger.

Circe spoke of things Percy would much later comprehend. More than often, Percy caught herself thinking about each of them.

Percy knew, even at an early age, which being part of the hunt wouldn’t have worked for her. She either would fumble that bad, or someone would fumble it for her. She never felt any call to it, unless she considered the all-consuming terror the war struck her with. However… What would’ve been of her life, and the world, had she accepted to stay in Aeaea with Circe? 

‘You and your friend, ‘The sorceress had said, a voice so soothing that it silenced all the “Danger" alarms beeping inside her head, ‘both of you have a natural inclination for magic. I might be biassed, but there is something about those whose line comes from the sea.’

With the little discernment her brain managed to do against Circe's voice, Percy frowned, ‘Annabeth is a daughter of Athena.’ 

Circe giggled as if she had been delighted by a baby’s first world.

‘She is, indeed.’ Circe agreed, fixing the golden stephane in Percy’s hair, amusedly tilting her head to the side, as if she had seen something curious. ‘My aunt Metis, her grandmother, was rather tricky.’

‘Your aunt?’ Percy echoed, widening her eyes as she turned from the mirror to stare directly at Circe's face, with wonder on her eyes. She scanned through the woman's face, looking for anything that her best friend might've shared with her. ‘You are Annabeth's cousin.’

‘Aren't we all, in a way?’ Circe used her hands to kindly turn Percy toward the mirror again, where she stared at a much more gracious girl than herself. Some pleased entity inside of Percy smiled at the sight; the girl in the mirror was gorgeous. The more Percy looked at that girl, the more she liked her. 

Circe had dressed her in a soft linen dress, embroidered with golden motifs across the blue fabric, making Percy’s thirteen years old self feel like she was in Disneyland having a princess makeover. Just better. She had never worn something so nice, and usually thought herself not made for vanity. 

Percy thought of Silena Beauregard, the Aphrodite girl who was nice to everyone, and who recently decided she wanted to befriend Percy and ever since has been trying to dress her up. Looking at that girl in the mirror, whose lashes fluttered every time she blinked, Percy wondered if it wouldn't be nice to look like that all the time. 

In a spoken lullaby, Circe kept talking, ‘My mother, Perseis, married Helios, her cousin. They had me, my sister Pasiphae, and our younger brothers, Aeetes and Perses. Pasiphae married Zeus’ son, Minos, and I suppose you know how the story went.’

Percy's face got red like a boiled tomato. ‘The Minotaur is your nephew?’ The Minotaur is Annabeth's cousin? Was an equally urgent question hanging on her mind. 

‘We are all cousins.’ Circe repeated, brushing a lock of Percy's hair. ‘I shall not hold it against you, I tend to stand by my fellow females, so I couldn't care less about what you did to him. I did dislike that brother of yours, though. A matter of principles.’ As she spoke, Percy noticed the guinea pigs getting anxious in their cage. Staring at them, she blinked a few times. ‘Don't look at them.’

For some reason, before Percy could rationalise the words, her neck had already moved, and she looked into the mirror again. She smiled at the pretty girl, with the golden skin, liquorice curls and sea green eyes. She was so pretty, like the girls in Aphrodite’s cabin. Percy wanted so much to be that girl; she didn't seem to have any problem at all going on in her life.

Then, she frowned again. ‘But Athena was born from Zeus's head.’

A glimpse of madness crossed Circe's green eyes, and Percy only recognised it because she had seen it before. In herself. A cold ran down her spine. She looked at the girl, straight into her eyes, and suddenly she was afraid of all that beauty. Still, she couldn't stop gazing at her.

‘Indeed.’ Circe hummed as she regained her composure. ‘There was this prophecy, a prophecy that said a son of Metis would do to Zeus what Zeus did to his own father. So, before his son could embrace his prophecy, Zeus embraced the wickedness he inherited from the Crooked One. He swallowed my aunt Metis, who was already pregnant. That's, sweetie, is how Athena came to be.’

Percy remained in silence for a second, not sure about what to think. She wasn't new to the gods being cruel, but…She thought that they were at least above cannibalism. Wasn't that the reason Tantalus got punished in the first place?

‘There is nothing the gods fear more than the possibility of ending up like the titans.’ Circe spoke, rather darkly, sending a cold down Percy's spine. Circe's finger caressed the curve of Percy's cheek, and she couldn't help but notice how inhumanly sharp those were. Like talons. Then, she brought both hands to Percy's uncovered shoulders and almost dug those nails in the flesh. ‘The day will come, it's been promised, that someone will come. The children of Kronos have always been destined to whiter.’

Percy remained silent for a second, then grit her teeth as if that had been a particular offence against her. ‘My father is a child of Kronos.’

‘He is, do you worry?’

‘He’s my dad.’ Percy wanted to scream, but her voice felt so tame and melodic, almost like Circe's. The sorceress smiled and Percy swallowed hard. ‘I think I should go after Annabeth, I…’ Again, that was too sweet to be Percy's voice.

‘Nice try, but not quite enough.’ Circe mumbled, ‘Listed to the wisdom of someone who had parents who'd tear down the world for her: you'd be better off without him. And your friend? I've seen how Athena turns against her favourites. She is the goddess of wisdom, and her greatest wisdom so far is knowing her father will love her much more as a mirror of himself. She bears his pride like a crown. Do you want to become like her? A mirror your father can look into to stroke his ego?’ Percy opened her lips to answer, but Circe was faster than her, ‘In that camp, you're both mere tools. Here, I can bring the better out of two thriving girls. Stay here, with me. You have the two things that wake the worst in the gods. Think of Helen of Sparta, the power she had, all she could've been…’

Percy remained silent and for a moment allowed herself to indulge with the fantasy of living on that island for the rest of her days, feeling as beautiful and special as she did in that moment. However, how could that be correct? 

‘I'm just me…’ She mumbled, ‘And I have my mom, I cannot just abandon her.’

‘Your mom won't live forever, Percy Jackson.’ Circe caressed Percy's curls and then her cheeks, in an almost maternal way. Percy didn't like that; she already had a mom.

Petulant, she snapped, ‘She'll probably live longer than me.’

Circe's eyes turned sad. ‘We, daughters, can’t help but dream about it… Think about it, Percy. Look in the mirror, feel the storm in the tip of your fingers. You're flicking a glimpse of who you'll be. Trust me you don't want to flourish in display for the gods to see, do you?’

The guinea pigs screamed, and Percy turned again to them, trying to remember something that had been hazed by Circe's presence. Something that Chiron had said. Strangely, something extremely specific about pigs. ‘I…’

‘They'll waste all your potential.’ She argued, now rather passionately. ‘Glory is a prize awarded to boys… Hercules, Dionysus, Asclepius. I do not offer you glory; I offer you freedom you'll never know otherwise. Let gods and titans feast on themselves. Don't be their pawn. Live up to your name, Persephone.’

Percy never knew what she would've answered, for a second later Annabeth had stormed into that room and the next thing Percy knows is that she is stealing a pirate's ship.

[amberlynnmurdock]

Aim For My Heart (Part 2)

Pairing: Benjamin Poindexter x Reader

Summary: Dex contemplates opening up to her.

Genres: FLUFF, with angst at the end

A/N: No idea what I'm doing with this story but here's an update LOL. Enjoy!

Tags: @danzer8705 @pcrushinnerd

Your moral compass isn’t broken, Dex. It just works better when you have a North Star to guide you.

Routine was important for Dex’s way of living. Routine helped him keep on the straight and narrow path. It was important nothing disrupt his routine or else things could turn upside down for him. Every morning he woke up at six o’clock on the dot. He brewed a fresh cup of coffee. He made his bed. He got ready for work. He tidied up the dishes. Doing these things gave him a sense of control. Doing these things made him feel normal. 

Pretending to be normal didn’t come easy to Dex. Pretending to feel remorse after he’s pulled the trigger on someone didn’t come easy to him. Pretending to care about someone’s feelings was foreign. His heart has felt like a frozen block of ice for almost his entire life. 

Until her.

Doing things for her—nice things—did come easy. Not for the sake of being nice, but for the reaction that it emitted from her each time. Whether it was bringing her coffee every day before work or sending her a goodnight text, he enjoyed the emotion it evoked in her. He enjoyed doing it because he knew she enjoyed it. 

Slowly, and then all at once, she was becoming part of his routine. Eventually, his entire routine. 

There was a purpose now behind the mundane things he did every day. He made his bed so it looked nice for her. He tidied up the dishes so nothing was dirty when she came over. He got ready for work with ease because she was also getting ready for work. In a way, Dex felt connected to her knowing they were both at their day jobs at the same time. The only thing that got hard for him was trying to focus on anything else in his life. His thoughts were consumed by her. Everything he did, she was always at the front of his mind. Guiding him to get through each day he didn’t get to see her. 

Well… at least each day he didn’t get to be with her. 

He still saw her. 

Every day. 

Even if she didn’t know it. 

When five o’clock finally struck, Dex whipped out his phone and immediately sent her a text:

DEX: I hope you had a great day. I can’t wait to see you on Friday. 

She’s never been with a guy who gave her this much attention. As she slid her trench coat on at the office, she was delighted to see her phone light up with Dex’s name. 

“Who’s got you smiling like that lately?!” Emma, her co-worker, teased her. Emma had reddish hair and a bright smile. She couldn’t help but blush being called out by her. 

“This guy I've been seeing,” she answered quietly. “He’s an FBI agent.” 

“Good Lord, __,” Emma placed a hand on her chest. “You’re messing with an FBI agent?! That’s hot.”

“He is hot,” she bit her lip and stared at Dex’s text, anxious to reply. Never has a guy ever texted her as much as Dex has. Never has a guy ever paid so much attention to her. And it’s only been two weeks of seeing him. “And if you’re implying what I think you’re implying—no. We haven’t messed around like that. Yet.”

“And there’s the keyword,” Emma laughed. “Well, when are you seeing him next?”

“Friday,” she said, “he’s taking me out to dinner again.”

“I can’t wait to hear all about it on Monday.”

When Emma clocked out and left, she immediately opened her phone again and saw another text from Dex. 

DEX: Get home safely. It’s cold out here.

Dex parked his car right around her building and waited at the end of the block to watch her come home. He looked around the streets of people and sighed. No sign of her yet. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Of course, it was her.

I can’t wait to see you either. About to be home now. Did you make it home okay?

Dex smiled. She cares. 

DEX: Yes, I did. :) 

Dex looks up from behind his steering wheel and fiddles with his binoculars. He watches as the rush hour crowd crosses the street, people going their separate ways. Some went into the corner bodega, others crossed the street or entered cabs. After a few minutes of people-watching, Dex finally catches a glimpse of her walking down the street. 

She was so mesmerizing to look at. So effortlessly beautiful. How did it come so easy to her to smile at strangers? Dex watches her through his binoculars and smiles to himself. He watches as she dodges a crowd and enters her apartment building. He waits again until he sees her apartment light up. When it does, he leans forward for a better angle. 

“Welcome home,” Dex whispers to himself. He imagines being in her living room, waiting for her. Maybe with a fresh plate of dinner. What would he make her for dinner? Penne vodka? Roasted chicken? Anything she wanted. 

She throws her bag on her chair and leans over her countertop, scrolling through her phone. After a few minutes, she puts her phone down and runs her fingers through her hair. Dex could almost feel her now. He sighs in content as he watches her prepare dinner for herself. Something she takes out of the fridge and heats up in the microwave. 

When she goes to her bedroom, Dex waits patiently for her to come out. He’s not at an angle where he can see her room—he doesn’t want to be. It didn’t feel right to see her intimate like that. While she’s out of view, Dex closes his eyes and rests his head on the car seat. 

He understands that what he’s doing may not seem normal to most people. But Dex wasn’t like most people. When he’s alone, everything feels cold around him. Everything he touches turns to gray. He doesn’t feel like he can radiate warmth from inside. The only way he can bring life back into things is to surround himself with people who can do that. And even then, it was hard to find people like that. 

Watching her makes him feel that warmth. It makes him feel closer to understanding something like it. It gives him hope that maybe one day he can even have a fraction of it. 

She doesn’t come out after a while. And when she does, she turns off the lights in her apartment and retreats to her bedroom. Dex sighs in content. He pulls out his phone. 

DEX: About to hit the hay. Goodnight. :) 

He starts up his car. His phone buzzes. 

Me too. Goodnight, Dex :) 

“Goodnight,” he whispers out loud. 

***

Dex stared at himself in his bathroom mirror for a long time. He was in a suit jacket and white button-down with no tie. Friday finally came, and doubt was filling his mind again. He could never let himself be completely happy, even if nothing had gone wrong. What if this ended up being their last date? What if he somehow scares her off and she leaves him? He knows he would find it really hard to let go. 

His phone buzzes. It’s her.

Ready when you are :)

After picking her up and making it to the restaurant, a different one from the last date, Dex sat across from her and watched her over his menu. She looked at the menu calmly and she looked as angelic as ever. He didn’t want to be at this restaurant, surrounded by all these people. He just wanted to be with her. He looked at her more to drown out the noise of the restaurant. She was wearing an off-the-shoulder navy blue top and black jeans. Her hair was curled at the ends, but her hair was pushed behind her shoulders. He could never tire of looking at her—watching her. 

She closes her menu. It startles Dex. Preparing for the worst, Dex feels his heart plummet in his chest. He feels his anxiety course through his veins. He braces himself for her rejection. And then—

“Do you want to ditch this place and get ice cream instead?”

Dex flinches at the question.

“Uh—what?”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re serious?” His mouth is half open as he looks at her in disbelief. 

“Yes,” she laughed, resting her chin on her knuckle. “I don’t like this menu. I feel overwhelmed. And I've been craving chocolate ice cream since eight this morning.”

Dex raised his brows in amusement and surprise, unable to hide his smile. “I mean, if that’s what you want—then yeah. Let’s go.”

Dex left cash on the table for what drinks they already ordered and she apologized to the waiter. She met Dex at the door and shrugged her coat on. Dex put his arm around her shoulders.

“Do you know where to go?” Dex asks, letting her lead the way down the block.

“Yes,” she nodded. “Just a few blocks up.”

He unwraps his arm around her shoulders and instead finds her hand to hold. She intertwines her fingers with his and squeezes his hand. He suddenly feels that weight he felt before being lifted off his chest. He mirrored her spontaneous nature and couldn’t stop smiling all the way to the ice cream shop. 

When they arrived at the shop, Dex looked at the giant LED ice cream sign in the window. Luckily, there wasn’t a long line. There weren’t a lot of people. He sighed in relief. 

The bells jingled at the door, and a young girl at the counter greeted them. 

While Dex looked around the shop, scanning for threats, her eyes were glued to the menu.

“I definitely want chocolate, but what toppings? Cookie dough? Fudge? Definitely fudge,” she thought aloud. “What are you getting, Dex?”

“Oh, I think just vanilla,” Dex shrugged. 

“Just vanilla?!” She asked incredulously. Dex laughed at her reaction. “No cherry? Sprinkles?”

“I don’t know. Should I?” Dex asked. If she wanted him to get toppings, he would. 

“Absolutely.” 

She orders their ice cream for them and Dex sits at a table, wiping it first with a napkin and making sure it’s clean. For him. Mostly, for her. 

He feels that warmth radiating off her when she sits down next to him at the table. She moved the chair so she could be closer to him. Dex adjusted himself in his seat so he faced her. She handed him his cup of vanilla, with sprinkles and whipped cream. She had her own cup of chocolate with oreo crumbs and fudge. 

“Cheers,” she tapped her cup with his. Dex smiled. And then it dawned on him like a gray cloud over his head. Like it always has. 

“What is it?” She asked, a spoonful of chocolate in her mouth. “Do you not like the toppings?”

Dex blinks hard at the cup as the memories fill his mind instantly. Painful memories. Well, the memories itself wasn’t painful. It was the reminder of this cup of ice cream that brought him back to a time when he didn’t know what painful memories yet were. 

“I just…” Dex trails off, furrowing his eyebrows. “I haven’t had ice cream since before I was sent to an orphanage. Yeah,” he remembers now, and he meets her eyes, “that was the last time I had ice cream.”

She sits for a moment, taking in what he just said—he’s said an awful lot in just a few sentences. He’s revealed an awful lot that she didn’t know before. Dex is an orphan. His parents aren’t here. He hadn’t tasted ice cream since he was a kid; it was practically a taste of his childhood. She’s not a doctor, but she knows how to handle people when they reveal something so deeply personal. She’ll listen. And she’ll turn it into something positive. 

“Well,” she says softly, “it’s been too damn long since you’ve tasted something so sweet.”

Dex looks at her when she says this. He smiles. But he disagrees with her. Because he remembers kissing her just last week. He takes a small spoonful of the ice cream and lets the creamy goodness soak in his tastebuds. He sighs in relief. 

“How does it taste?” She asks. 

“Good,” he nods. “Really good.” 

His heart breaks at the same time. But looking at her mends it back together. 

“Do you want to try mine?” She asks with a small smile. She scoops some for him and feeds it flirtatiously to Dex. Dex groans.

“Aw, come on. Yours is way better,” Dex shakes his head. 

“Let’s switch,” she urges, handing him her ice cream. “Seriously. I want yours.”

Dex looks at her in amusement and trades cups with her. She couldn’t be any more perfect. Caring. Kind. 

“How are you so naturally… kind?” Dex finds himself asking between bites.

“I’m really not,” she says sheepishly, “you’d be surprised. Most of the time, I really hate people.”

Dex laughs and shakes his head in disbelief. “I don’t believe you. You? Come on.”

“It’s true. People are fake—they’re selfish and judgmental. It’s just easier to choose peace and kindness than to fight back.”

“Is it?” Dex questions.

“It’s easier to sit with your choices in the end. You feel better knowing you chose peace. At least, I do.”

He wants to say he does too, but he can’t. Because it’s not true. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. 

“Is it tough as an FBI agent? It must be hard to choose peace in a setting like that. Retaining bad guys and whatnot.” 

“It’s hard,” Dex nods, echoing what he’s learned to say years ago. “It’s really hard. Tensions are always high. You have to have a hard exterior. It’s a lot to be like that all the time.”

“You don’t have to be like that with me,” she says. 

“I know,” Dex affirms. “That’s why I like spending time with you. I don’t have to be a certain way.” 

She smiles and takes a bite of vanilla ice cream. 

“I am so glad I added toppings to this.”

***

On a rare winter night that it’s not freezing outside, Dex and she opted to walk back to her apartment. Hand in hand, Dex holds her tight and close. She rests her head on his shoulder, and that makes him feel important. 

“I had a good time tonight, Dex. You’re nice to me.”

Dex smiles. “You’re nice to me.”

“You can’t copy what I say,” she laughs.

“It’s true,” Dex slows down his pace, knowing they’re approaching her apartment soon. He doesn’t want this night to end. 

She stops him from walking and faces him. She places her hand on his cheek and caresses his cheekbone under the dim light of the street. He takes the initiative and wraps his arms around her waist, bringing her closer to him. He brushes the hair out of her face and looks deeply into her eyes. He pauses, carefully watching her like a beautiful piece of art that’s only meant to be looked at, not touched. Or at least not touched by someone like him—someone unworthy of being allowed to be this close to her. If she knew about his childhood, what would she think? Would she think him a monster? 

Would she understand him? 

Would she leave? 

His confusion must be etched on his face.

“What is it?” She whispers.  

Dex shakes his head in response. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he says in a regretful tone. She squints her eyes, cocks her head. 

“It’s only our second date,” she laughs lightly but quiets down when she sees the serious look on his face. It’s all in his hazel brown eyes, that he means what he says. She doesn’t know a lot about him other than that he was an orphan. That he was in the army; he had a therapist. He must have done some things he’s not proud of—but she can’t see herself ever thinking differently of him. Not when he’s been sweet to her. 

He looks away from her like he’s trying to figure out something in his head. She noticed he often had that puzzled look on his face. 

“Dex,” she calls his name before leaning in and kissing him. The kiss is slow…tantalizing. If she were a black hole, he’d surely be sucked in. Whatever worries he had in his head seemed to be gone by the look on his face. His hardened features became soft. There wasn’t a darkness in his eyes anymore—even though she would gladly get lost in it if he let her. 

“I get lost in my head a lot,” Dex struggles to say. “I need someone—I need an anchor when that happens.”

“Is it your job?” She assumes he means about his line of work. She can’t imagine it being the easiest job in the world. Being surrounded by so much violence and danger. 

“Sometimes,” Dex says, “but other things too.”

“Like what?” 

Dex swallows—and looks away again. He wants to open up to her so badly, but he doesn’t want to scare her off. Not when he’s got her exactly where he wants her. 

“You don’t have to tell me about it now,” she continues. “Another night.”

“Another night,” he repeats. He leans down and kisses her again, pressing his lips on hers for a long time. 

Soon, they reach the door to her apartment building. Dex already feels that familiar weight fall on his chest, the moment he knows he’ll be alone again. Away from her, away from the reality he wants. 

He won’t know what to do with himself when he’s home again. 

“I had another great night with you, Dex,” she says, pulling away from his hand but letting her fingers linger. 

“Me too,” he sighs in disappointment. A tone she doesn’t pick up on.  

“You know, if you ever need to talk, you can always call me,” she offers. “I know what it feels like to be alone.”

Dex was hopeful to hear her words but wasn’t sure if she was ready for his kind of loneliness. He sincerely hoped that when he did open up to her, she wouldn’t see him differently. 

“That’s good to know,” he tells her. “Goodnight, __.” 

“Night, Dex,” she said with a smile. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

When she entered her building, Dex waited outside for a few more minutes until he saw she reached her apartment. She’s safe. He contemplated staying, watching from afar. But truthfully, he was exhausted. It took a lot for him to do what he did tonight—almost open up to her. For once, he felt satisfied with the interaction he had with her, down to the way he kissed her. He was happy she offered to call her anytime he needed it. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t need it now. He always needed it. His mind was always racing. 

And it always got louder the closer he got to his apartment. The closer he got to being alone. His hands twitched as he waited for the elevator to reach his floor. When it did, it was like his feet turned into cement blocks as he walked to his door, to enter his quiet and cold apartment. Away from the world, away from her. Doubt filled his mind again, as it always did. Worried that this ounce of happiness he’d been given would be taken from him as quickly as it arrived. 

He hangs his coat in his closet. He pushes the rack of clothes to reveal the safe tucked in the back. Opening it, he grabs the first tape he can find and plays it on his cassette. 

He falls back in his bed, staring at the ceiling. It stares back at him. 

[batcrooks]

THE BATCROOKS AWARDS 2024

After keeping meticulous notes on every Media Property™ I consumed in 2024, here is my roundup of the BESTS!! It should probably be one thing per category but I couldn't decide so it's lots actually. And I broke down video games into so many categories because I play a lot of video games!!!

Best Movie I Watched for the First Time in 2024 (Live Action and Animated Categories)

What I wrote about them: Parasite - sooo good so tense and dark and funny? Isle of Dogs - what a DELIGHT. it was so fun to watch this film, i didn't want it to end. the animation was so good. the logistics behind the making of this movie are simply unbelievable. i can't believe this isn't a more beloved film.

Best TV Show I Watched in 2024 (Broadcast and Internet Categories)

What I wrote about them: Severance - SOO GOOD what a FUN SHOW. it has all the good tenseness of a thriller but it's also so funny in its absurdity. i must know more!! the work is mysterious and important Game Changer (season 6) - this season is very high concept. there have been some very funny ones and a couple eh. Sam Says 3 and the one where they had to find the buzzers were both top 5 episodes

Best Video Game (Multiplayer)

What I wrote about them: V Rising - VAMPIRES!! i loved this game for its tight and unwavering focus on being about vampires. you could build a house but it was always, always a vampire house. you can have a horse but it is a vampire horse. incredible. pretty cool combat and magical spells, some questionable level-up mechanics. mostly fun boss fights almost completely ruined by the final Dracula fight being so so overpowered. really enjoyed this one thanks Abiotic Factor - this has been a very cool survival crafting game, maybe one of the best. it reminds me of a lot of different games. mechanically it feels a bit like Raft, in that it has very unique setting and base building and a narrative thread and handcrafted things to explore. of course it has all the half life vibes but also way more SCP stuff than i would have expected and that's great because it is always fun. as of writing we are doing the reservoir section, which has been a lot more stressful than previous sections, but i think we'll probably get through it alright. with only a few exceptions (how long it took to unlock food recipes for example), the progression of craftables has been good. for the mostpart, resources haven't been very annoying to obtain (other than silver and carbon). the vibes are just so good throughout and so many things have been delightful. since it is early access, i'm not going to knock a star off for the Issues. it is an optimistic five stars. about 52 hours and we have completed all the early access. genuinely sad to stop playing it so i guess it was good!! the last chapter was a bit stressful but it was fun how many new gadgets we got to play with for a little while there. anyway it is now tied with v rising for best multiplayering of 2024

(have a lot to say about video games)

Best Video Game (Cat Plays) (Games I Played With an Audience) (Of Sourdeer)

What I wrote about them: The Roottrees are Dead - so good, better than Hand With Many Fingers. hope more games like this keep existing. the amount of info you got to trawl through was so fun. honestly considering replaying it when the steam remake comes out someday, which seems crazy for a mystery game but there was so much i doubt i'll remember everything. Lorelei and the Laser Eyes - a little heavy on the kind of arbitrary spookiness? I dunno how to explain it but it just often feels like games are spooky Just Because sometimes. The same as feeling like this and other games try to tackle high brow stuff Just Because. and the control scheme is WHACK lol. if it just had a "back out" button it would be fine tho. but this is another game that has made me feel so clever very often. it helps to play with multiple people contributing to the tricksy puzzles. It does seem to be a very meta video game which would be fine but it actually doesn't seem relevant to anything? The instruction booklet, the gameboy game of the maze, the ps1 games, the implication that the video game we are playing right now is also licensed in universe. It's INTERESTING but what does it have to do with the auteur filmmaker and the death of materialism and whatever they go on about all the time. But I'm really liking it so far. A good variety of puzzlers and lots to look into, have only felt stuck a few times. Comically long to-do list though. Could have maybe used more elegant level design? Only deal with one floor at a time maybe? Or at least less. But maybe having so many floating mysteries is part of the vibe actually. in the end i think it is firmly in the second tier of plays game, Very Good with a few flaws. most appreciated for being a rather long puzzle game. more of those please

Best Video Game (Sour Plays) (Games Sourdeer Played With an Audience) (Of me)

What I wrote about them: Hypnospace Outlaw - watched sour play. what a WEIRD THING!!! it was so finely crafted which is funny to say about something so absurd, but they really didn't skimp on anything in this. it really rewards exploring everything, and while i feel like it was maybe a little too loose i think there was just enough guidance with the cases to get you through the story that was happening. very chaotic The Rise of the Golden Idol - while i think overall it is not as good as the first one, i think that is mostly just because the first one was a brand new thing that shocked and awed us. the art style was a bit of a downgrade but still had the expected Vibes and the mysteries were just as satisfying to put together (if not as Cool thematically). i'm very glad to have future installments to look forward to. i can't even rate it a star lower because the gameplay is so good. i love golden idol. I.D.O.L.

Best Video Game (Singleplayer)

What I wrote about them: Dredge - really good!! addictive. 100%'d it Arco - i really liked it!! it was like a combo of West of Loathing and Chroma Squad gameplay-wise. it was really good stories and characters i liked them a lot. the pixels were so cute. i accidentally devoured the whole thing (about 13 hours) so fast but i think theres some replayability there sometime. make a few different choices and see what happens. Animal Well - a DELIGHT!! this game had moments where you felt soooo clever but it did also have some times that were a little hard or fiddly. i loved how it had no (very little) music but so much atmosphere. it was very pretty to look at. the backtracking could be annoying sometimes. but i like that it explained nothing and you could still figure out so much. i've gotten to the credits now as of writing (7.5 hours) but i know there's probably a lot hidden around i will try to find some. i see you smiley faces. i just have to remember how to get back to you. 10 hours later: i have gotten all the achievements which is 100%. to me. sourdeer had to help me get the last ten eggs but i think that overall it was a good difficulty throughout. if you dont try to do the rabbits and all the stuff sour is telling me about that is after even the second credits. so a Nice Game, Brent (Billy Basso)

Best Book I Read for the First Time in 2024

What I wrote about them: Children of Time - considering making this a top ten book. i really liked this one. (editor's note: there are diminishing returns on the sequels. The first one is so fun and innovative, but I don't recommend them past that. The second one is OK) Return of the Thief - yaay a satisfying ending :) it was really bold to introduce an entirely new character to be the POV for the last book in a series but it worked out really well i thought. a good character. everything all tied up in the end :) sad to finish, these were a lot of fun. it is sad that not a single one of these had a female POV. Eddis and Attolia were great but compared to the towering amount of male characters it doesn't seem great. but it is forgiveable. finally someone was gay in this one. so that's nice lol. (editor's note: i read this entire series for the first time this year and have chosen the final as the representative.) Assassin's Quest - Oh ok we are serious now!!! Actually fundamentally a bit less serious because there are dragons now but it made it work. Ended really bittersweet and if I didn't know the characters will return someday I would have been pretty thoroughly bummed out about it. Excellent fun book really elevated the other two. Fantasy books really get you drinking the divine right of kings koolaid. Will start on the next trilogy now, have no idea what to expect from it except that it isn't about any of these characters afaik but same world. It has been a real treat to stumble on to long completed series this year. (editors note: final book to a trilogy)

And that's it!! If you want to see every media I consumed this year and my star ratings and comments about them, here's a link to them! (It's a spreadsheet)

[k-marzolf]

There is thunder in our hearts.

warnings; reader is traded to Billy for a debt, kissing, mentions of sexual assault, language, bed sharing, fluff/angst, fem!reader.

summary; The beginning of your relationship with Billy.

words; 858.

author’s note: alright, I wrote this on very little sleep, so if this is half baked that’s why. Lol

tags; @e-dubbc11 @firexfate @aoi-targaryen

Rabbit Heart masterlist.

&&&&

It had been three weeks since you’d been there, and it was just you and Billy in the house; you couldn’t sleep, and wandered into his study. The fire was roaring in the fireplace, and he was leaning against the mantle with a crystal glass of whiskey in his hand.

His sweater fit him snug, and he looked like some dark prince out of a fairytale, the fairytales that usually meant to tell a lesson—not the sweet Disney ones, as shadows cast harsh angles on his face.

He looked up as you entered tentatively, a lonely soul reaching to another lonely soul.

He watched you, eyes burning in the fire light, taking another sip of whiskey never taking his eyes off you, you felt devoured and worshiped all in one glance. A thrill went through you that you’d never felt with any other man. The man who’d held you as you cried after your father left you with him.

You were crying into Billy’s shoulder, as he held you, rocking you, and whispering tenderly to you. He'd taken you from your father’s home after being traded for his debt. "I'll take care of her now." He'd said, and whisked you away.

Your whole body shook, and Billy kissed your tears away, making you peek up at him from your hiding place. He smoothed the hair from your face, taking out his pocket square and dabbing at your eyes.

“It’s alright, bunny. I’ll look after you.” He promised, kissing your forehead. Your shaking began to subside, and your eyelids drooped, exhausted from so much crying. His fingers stroked your hair, and despite yourself, you rest feeling oddly cared for, something foreign to you.

Your father had never cared, you had always been a burden.

Ever since you’d come into his home, with your tender demeanor, and soft eyes, you’d upended everything. He’d craved you the minute stepped foot in his home, wanted to have you in his bed, not just for sex but real companionship.

“Can’t sleep, bunny?” He asked.

Your heart fluttered at the term of endearment. No one had ever made you feel like Billy did, like you were worth something.

Your mother had been a drug addict, and your father treated you with cold indifference. And while Billy tried to avoid you due to his fear of attachments, every encounter he’d treated you well.

“No,” you whispered, moving to stand in front of him. Without thinking you reached up and touched his cheek, his beard tickling your skin. Billy leaned into your hand, and your heart thudded as he kept eye contact.

You let your hands trail down his jaw, marveling at the feel of his beard, letting your fingers dance across his lips, thumb brushing his bottom lip; you move them down his neck stroking the hair at the nape, and when you finally touched his chest, his hand trapped yours there.

“You’re playing with fire, bunny.” He warned.

You leaned closer, “Maybe I wanna get burned, to consume and be consumed.” You said, voice low.

Billy grabbed the back of your neck, and paused hovering above your mouth, looking for your consent, it was important to Billy who’d had his autonomy taken from him. But you leaned in closer, eyes fluttering.

His mouth touched yours, and you’d never found anything good in kissing. It was just tongues and spit. But god, he made you ache. His hands wandered down to your bottom and he pulled you down with him into his lap, in his chair.

He tasted like whiskey and cigars, and his hands were rough on your skin, and you finally touched his hair, pulling. He groaned into your mouth at that.

He pulled away then, both of you breathing heavily, laughing in delight. He tucked your head under his chin, and you sighed.

With the beating of his heart, you slept against him, feeling safe and warm despite who he was.

When you woke up the next morning, you were on silk sheets. The room had a strong Billy Russo smell to it, cigars and bergamot, and you almost didn’t want to leave.

The door opened and he was there, in all his glory, dressed and looking dapper as usual.

“Come on, bunny. It’s time for breakfast.” He said, giving you a half smile when you whined.

“I’ll get out of bed if you give me another kiss,” you bartered.

He laughed, “Are you negotiatin’ with me?” It was the first time you heard him genuinely laugh, and it was wonderful.

He crawled across the bed, leaning over you, “C’mere, then.” He said, amused.

You wrapped your arms around him as he kissed you breathless again.

You wanted to wake up in his bed every morning.

And he wanted you in his bed.

But he knew a little of your past with your uncle, after looking into you. It was public record. And if he was honest, it drew him to you, after his own sexual assault. You were a kindred spirit. But he wasn’t going to push you until you were ready.

Until then, he’d enjoy your kisses, and tender touches.