#these idles crack me up lol

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

Shhh! They're bonding!

[2-dsimp]

if it’s no trouble could we get another part to DILF/ nanny reader? Maybe like a willing reader? Bc I know of a hot dad wanted to date me who am I to say no? Lol great work!!!!

Cw: fem reader! jealousy, possessive/obsessive tendencies, Quio and Miki butting heads, the plot thickens

Synopsis no.2: 【featuring you being caught in the middle between your coworker and employer literally and figuratively. Miki obviously hates your employer and makes it well known meanwhile Quio does the same vice versa. The Dilf tried his best to put his and Peina’s plan of seducing you into action. But he’s constantly getting interrupted. And He’s honestly so close to snapping at this point.】

☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆ ☆*:.｡..｡.:

“I wish you’d stop by here more often after all you’re already part of the family."

The Dilf sighs melodramatically, electing a small giggle from your lips. Seeing how he acted so distraught due to your absence. While he led you and your coworker to the living room, gesturing for you to take a seat on the couch.

“Oh that’s kind of you to say Mr. Evinis but I can’t possibly impose on you guys. Plus I’ve still gotta work my boring office job”

You replied with a mirthful tone at his sweet comment truly feeling as if you’ve made a second home within your employers household. You’ve already grown accustomed to his friendly work staff and of course his darling daughter who was l always clinging onto you like a baby kitten. And the fact that her father was so chivalrous and kind didn’t help your own little crush from forming on the single dad.

“Oh perish the thought sugarling~ we’re lucky enough to even be blessed by your radiant grace. In this boring household.”

Quio reassures with a charming smile, as he makes sure to fluff up some fancy decor pillows for his lovely lady. After placing the plush pillows down where you’d sit, He then put a hand on your shoulder giving a comforting squeeze.

“In fact me and the little squirt have always gotten excited at seeing you pull up and we’d be more than happy to keep you hostage here if possible”

The Dilf admits in a cheesy manner, which made you feel at ease. From how sweet his insistence at you dropping by often to hang out was. Being none the wiser to how he was being 100% serious. About the part where him and his daughter briefly molled over the idea of keeping their lovely nanny hostage at their mansion. Since they honestly couldn’t get enough of how addicting your sunshine liken presence.

Lit up every dark lonesome corner of the estate and they’d be damned if they every let you get a chance to escape from their sights. brandishes a pearly grin at the thought of being able to cater personally to his future missus.

“Also if your boring office job is what’s holding you back from spending quality time with us then I can think of a couple solutions to—“

“Um, let me stop you right there man. Whatever you’re pitching would be nice and all but I need my work wife.”

Once again you missed the small micro transgression within the Dilf’s facial features as his eye twitched at the irksome interruption done by that worthless dickbag.

“Aha work wife? With someone like you? I see you’re the type to joke around huh?”

He replied in an tone of condescension giving Miki a mean spirited smile. And an idle glance over full of scorn at the self assured confidence in this boy, who was proclaiming that his darling was his work wife.

“Well I am quite the jokester—wait what the hell do you mean by someone like me??”

You nearly busted out laughing at how Miki got a miffed expression on his face from the subtle dig done by the famous actor. You didn’t necessarily claim to be Miki’s work wife as nice as his company was. He was an utter shitty coworker to have when you’re trying to get shit done. Whenever you two were paired it’d be him cracking jokes while you were working like an effective machine.

“Well If anything they’re my work wife, no my wife, since yknow she’s looking after my kid like the little darling angel she is”

Quio nearly purred with a sharp edge to his voice as he blatantly rubbed it in Miki’s face the sheer difference. Between the two of them and how he was ultimately more important in your standings.

“Anit that right sweetness?”

The single dad hummed with a sickening sweet expression that resembled a hopeful doe eyed buck. His shouldering eyes never failed to make your heart do kick flips from how they always seemed to focus on purely you. Almost as if you were his world, his missing half. You got extremely flustered that you could barely even respond to his words. Until Miki let out a sneer and fixed his apparent love rival a shrewd scowl.

“Oh please as if! She’s your Nanny, not your substitute wife. Plus I already called dibs on her first, my guy.”

The sight of that damned flea mansplaining on the couch with the slinging over his arm right behind your head. Made Quio imagine ripping that same offending arm from our his socket and bitch slapping him with it.

“Dibs? Are you insinuating that she’s an object to be possessed by the likes of a peasant like you?”

He taunts snarkily, dropping his nice guy facade as makes his way to sit right in between you and Miki. Squeezing his bulky frame in the middle of the couch he gracefully crosses his legs as he swats off the offending arm behind your head and replaces it with his own.

“Tch! Now you know that’s not what I meant. It’s always you actors spinning fabricated lies. And the fuck did you just—“

“Miki don’t you think that it’s time for you to go soon? You’re gonna be late for work”

You interjected seeing how things were getting out of hand between the two offending men. Quio merely gave a smug smile as he saw Miki begrudgingly get up with an scowl on his face. You were right he had to go soon since he couldn’t be late for his promotion into higher management. He didn’t tell you that yet because he wanted to surprise you on the day you both worked the same shift.

“Ah fuck your right, thanks for the reminder what would I do without my precious work wife?”

Miki emphasized loudly, Shooting a glare towards the A-listed actor as he then gave you an abrupt hug goodbye whilst still glowering at the Dilf. The two seemed to be exchanging a clash of mixed silent threats behind your back.

Quio “gently” nudged Miki away from his darling with a hard shove with the pointy tip of his shoe upon his midriff. Making your coworker stumble back with a sharp exhaled grunt escaping his lips. Good, he hoped that fucker gets sore down there. The single dad was always about getting his get back by being petty whenever someone blatantly tried to piss him off.

“Alright that’s enough Casanova wouldn’t wanna keep your bosses waiting yeah?”

The Dilf chirped in a sweet noncommittal manner as he briefly pulled you into a side hug. As if to cleanse you from the poor touch Miki had given you. Miki had to bite back his tongue since he really couldn’t afford to waste time with the man’s shenanigans. And rolled his eyes he could only afford to shoot you a word of warning with concern shining in his eyes before he made his way outside of the million dollar manor.

“Be careful… You know how actors are, always so full of shit. Call me when you’re done I’ll come to pick you up okay?”

“Yeah yeah, don’t let the door hit cha on ya on the way out Miki”

Quio sassed as he couldn’t wait to have that cocky fucker out of sight and out of mind. There were so many times where the actor came close to acting out. One of his many aspiring roles which consisted of him being a deranged serial killer. It would’ve gave him peace of mind to choke out that lanky shithead and watch the life leave his eyes.

But he had better things to do at the moment rather than drone in about how he’d murder Miki in cold blood. Like wooing you over for instance which was unfortunately put on pause due to a pest intent on getting in the way between you and him. So he feels a sense of relief wash over him as Miki leaves, knowing that he can finally have you all to himself.

“It seems like you two get along well enough already”

You caught the Dilf off guard with your off handed comment as he gave you a raised brow and an apprehensive smile. He shook his head slightly and gave a dark chuckle at how naive you were to perceive their little spat to be that of a friendly origin. When they clearly wanted to go at each others necks.

“It would seem so… But hey I was wondering if you’d be interested in—“

His phone decided to go off in the most headache inducing way. He could hear the annoying ringtone which indicated that his manager was calling and he bit back a snarl from being interrupted once again. Collecting himself he excused himself from the couch not being fore taking your hand in his and giving it a small chaste kiss as he gave you an apologetic gaze.

“Sorry about this sugarling I’ve gotta take this call I’ll be right back”

With his servants taking leave at his behest today was the day he planned on tying the metaphorical knot with the cute Nanny that stole both his and his little girl’s heart. So his manager had better got a pretty damn good reason for bugging him on his day of vacation leave. Or else they’ll get added to the hitlist alongside that damned coworker of yours.

。

。

。

I’m thinking of making this into a mini series, let me know if I should continue!o(≧v≦)o

[snailmail444]

Alex x Reader 🙈

All Tied Up

18+ 💚 NSFW 💚 MDNI

Alex x Reader

It’s the way I have been absolutely possessed the past few days. I’ve been in a huge writing slump but then the new year hit and my brain just. Decided to function? We’re riding the wave folks we’ll see how long it keeps up lol.

ANYWAY! Enjoy the third fulfilled ask in a week. I hope y’all aren’t sick of me yet lmao. NSFW under the cut and remember MDNI

“Are you sure you can’t break these?” You ask, pulling at one of the knots binding Alex to your bed.

Alex stares up at you, all big green eyes and still-confident smirk. “Even I can’t do that. I’ll prove it. But you don’t have to worry baby. It’s no sweat, I can behave.”

He flexes and you watch the veins in his arms protrude as he turns his wrists this way and that, trying and failing to find any give in your handiwork. A flush burns down your face, and your throat feels dry as you eye him up and down—large and muscular and completely at your mercy.

You would have never thought that Alex and his body builder physique would be in such a submissive position. Naked, spread eagle and tied to your bedposts, muscles taught and cock flushed. Laid out for you to devour however you please.

You run your palms up his chest, and his skin is hot against yours, smooth and solid as you work your way up. His pounding heart startles you, feeling how fast and hard it’s beating in his chest. For a minute you stall, feeling the strong rhythmic thump, and almost ask if he’s alright.

Almost, except you can see the way his cock twitches and precome beads at the tip just from your idle touches. You haven’t so much as breathed on it, yet it’s straining so hard already it’s obvious his heart rate isn’t due to nerves.

You straddle him, fighting your cocky smile away, and purposefully maintain eye contact as you suck one of his nipples. Alex instantly forgets his restraints, jerking an arm and making the bed-frame rattle. He was right—the knots aren’t going anywhere.

He pants out a heavy breath, and you hide your delight as you lavish attention on his other nipple. You won’t tease him for too long. Not this first time, anyway.

You push your hips back as you skim your teeth along his shoulder, making sure to rub it in that you can touch as much as you want by stroking up his ribcage, down his sides, along his arms.

Only a little more teasing, you think as you glide your wet cunt across his cock, pretending to have trouble guiding it in as you squeeze it’s base and coat it in your arousal.

“Ahh, please,” he whines, hips bucking as much as the pitiful give in his binds allow, “baby I can’t.”

“What happened Alex? It was no sweat what, two minutes ago? Not even?”

He opens his mouth to respond, and you stop him by sinking all the way down on his cock. His hands strain, and you can tell by the way he’s flushing and tossing his face to the side he’d be hiding in his hands to mute the stuttering moan that falls past his lips.

You don’t give him a moment of respite, electing to ride hard and fast. Without the use of his hands Alex can’t modulate your pace. Typically he’d slow you down, keep you steady, but now you’re allowed the free rein to completely ruin him.

“Ah, w-wait,” he huffs, hips twitching and grinding like he might be able to make you listen to him without using his safe word.

It’s too bad you aren’t in a listening mood.

He can’t take it for too long, biting his lip and breathing in stuttering gasps while he tries to stave off his orgasm.

“Ba-aby, I—“ Alex’s voice cracks, “I’m not gonna—hah—I’m really—“

Either he can’t hold himself off anymore, or he realizes you’re not going to listen, because Alex’s babbling ceases as his back arches and he comes with a whine, his muscles straining and flushed down to his chest.

Your cunt throbs as you slow down through his orgasm, gyrating against his hips until he stops twitching. He’s starting to catch his breath, and you bite down on a smile as you pick up the pace, watching as his face twists up.

“A-h-ah—you—I—“ his voice is a squeak, stopping abruptly as he feel you continuing to rock against his soft cock. A low-grade hum buzzing out of his chest continually as you ride him relentlessly. When it doesn’t stop, you finally still.

“Safe word?” You ask, stroking his cheek and feeling the heat of his skin against yours.

“Nuh—no,” he gasps out, bucking into your cunt despite the way it makes him cry out.

You smirk. This is going to be a fun night.

[screebyy]

Part 6: The Summit Prev | Next (Soon™️) | Start

Two parts left! sorry to end on a lil cliffhanger of sorts. also sorry i'm going to continue to be very mean to jolyon. also also sorry i will not be finishing this before tfs launches lol 🥲

ID below cut like and subscribe etc

Panel 1: Wide shot of Crow and Jolyon sitting on a rock on the summit of a mountain, looking down at the dreaming city below. The sun is starting to rise over distant mountains, and the dreaming city is covered in taken essence, with black taken orbs hanging all around it. Jolyon is leaning forward with his arms crossed and his elbows resting on his knees, while Crow is leaning back on his hands. Jolyon: “Thanks for doing this with me.” Crow: “Of course. It’s been… really nice, catching up.” Jolyon: “Yeah…

Panel 2: Close up of Jolyon’s hand from the side. He is curling it into a tense fist where it’s resting on his bicep. Jolyon: “... Can I ask…”

Panel 3: Close up of Jolyon’s face in profile. He is staring straight ahead with a pained expression on his face as he speaks. Jolyon: “Why now?”

Panel 4: Side view of Crow as he turns to look at Jolyon. He has a curious expression on his face. Jolyon (offscreen): “A few years ago… I heard about what happened, with Savathun. That you had remembered your past life.”

Panel 5: Side view of Jolyon. He is turning away from the Crow, and his expression is not visible. Jolyon: “When you didn’t reach out… I guess I just assumed you hadn’t remembered me.”

Panel 6: Side view as Crow looks at Jolyon with a mournful expression. Crow: “I…”

Panel 7: Crow turns forward again, looking down at the ground with a sad expression. Crow: “I’m not sure I did, at first.” Panel 8: Flashback of the Radiant Accipiter, idling in empty space. Crow is visible through the windshield of the ship, he is hunched over in the pilot’s chair with his head in his hands while glint floats beside him. Crow (Present day): “He was so far gone at the end - whenever I tried to think about his life, it was like a bomb going off inside my brain.”

Panel 9: Close up of Crow looking down past the camera. He is clutching his face with both hands, one hand is tearing desperately at his hair while the other is covering his cheek, nose and mouth. He has a horrified, distant expression on his face, and a tear is running down his cheek. In the background, a cracked surface shows many scenes from Uldren’s rampage. One fragment shows a close up of Uldren’s eyes as he turns towards the viewer with a hateful expression. Black rivulets of corruption are flowing from his eyes like tears, and the sclera of his corrupted eyes are black and seeping into the iris. Another fragment shows several dead corsairs lying on a stone floor in pools of blood. Another fragment shows a close-up of Cayde-6’s face, staring up at the viewer defiantly. His face plates have been badly damaged. The final fragment shows a close up of Uldren’s hand holding the Ace of Spades hand cannon, with smoke coming out of the barrel. Crow (Present day): “Nothing made sense, all I could feel was… what he felt. The things he did…”

Panel 10: A wide shot of Crow lying in bed, bundled up in his blanket. The room is dark, and a window is open, with bright sunlight shining in through the curtains. Crow (Present day): “But eventually…”

Panel 11: A close up of Crow holding Glint with one hand. Glint’s eye is closed, and he is humming gently. Crow (Present day): “I was able to start picking up the pieces.” Panel 12: Closer shot of Crow lying in bed. He is clutching Glint against his chest with one hand, rubbing his shell gently. With his other hand, he is holding a golden ring on a chain. He is staring blankly at the ring with a sad, tired expression. Crow (Present day): “To put together who he had been before.” Panels 13, 14, 15, and 16: A sequence of fuzzy, incomplete memories. The first is a shot of Jolyon in his uniform, from his waist to his chin. Most of his face is not visible, but he seems to be scowling. He is partially obscured by a misty, dark blue background. The second memory is a shot of Uldren lying back in green grass on a sunny day, eating raspberries. He is looking to his right, at someone just offscreen. He is laughing lightly, and looks peaceful as he holds a raspberry up to his mouth. The third memory is a shot of Jolyon’s dark blue Supremacy rifle leaning against a wall, next to where his green cloak is hanging. The fourth memory is a partial shot of Uldren resting on his hands and knees above Jolyon, who is not visible. Uldren is shirtless, and a golden ring is hanging from a chain around his neck. Jolyon’s hand is reaching into frame, holding the ring in his palm where it hangs. Uldren is smiling down at him warmly. Crow (Present day): “You were… A puzzle that took me a long time to figure out. A face I couldn’t quite name, a feeling I couldn’t quite place.”

Panel 17, 18, and 19: Another sequence of memories, which are more clear than before. The first panel is a head-on shot of Uldren, staring up past the viewer with a confused, strained expression. The scleras of his eyes are black, and the corruption is starting to seep out of them. The second panel is a head-on view of Jolyon, staring down at Uldren with an intense, searching expression. The third panel is of Uldren, who is looking away to scratch at his right eye with the heel of his hand. His hands are cuffed together at the wrist, and he looks frustrated, and distracted. Crow (Present day): “When it finally came together, And I realized how terrible he had been to you… I was too ashamed.” Panel 20: In the present day, Crow is leaning forward, and staring distantly down at the ground, while Jolyon watches him talk. Crow: “To let himself fade away like that, to forget you, while you were standing right in front of him…”

Panel 21: Close up of Jolyon as he looks away, and stares sadly into the distance. His brow is furrowed and he looks conflicted and tired. Crow (offscreen): “I didn’t think I could face you, after that. I didn’t think you’d want me to.” Jolyon: “...”

Panel 22: front view of Crow and Jolyon sitting side by side. Crow is leaning forward heavily, looking down at the ground with a grim, slightly frustrated expression. Jolyon is turning slightly towards Crow, though he is not looking directly at him and is expression is sad and distant. Jolyon: “What changed your mind?”

Panel 23: Close up of Jolyon’s face. He looks slightly surprised and is looking directly at Crow, offscreen. Crow (offscreen): Petra.

Panel 24: Shot of Crow as he hunches away from Jolyon, rubbing his right arm self-consciously. He is glancing out of the corner of his eyes back at Jolyon with an uncertain, guilty expression. Crow: “Last week, hunting Riven’s eggs took us… Somewhere that reminded me of you.”

Panel 25:  Close up of Jolyon as he watches Crow out of the corner of his eyes. His brow is slightly furrowed, and he looks uncertain.

Crow (offscreen): “After we got back, I asked Petra how you had been, and…”

Panel 26: Close up of Crow. He is smiling lightly, staring down at the ground with a distant, soft expression and blushing faintly. Crow: “She talked some sense into me. Reminded me that I shouldn’t just assume you were better off never knowing me. That I at least owed you the chance to make that decision for yourself.”

Panel 27: front view of Crow and Jolyon sitting side by side. Crow is turning back towards Jolyon with a soft smile. Jolyon is also looking at Crow, smiling faintly. Crow: “I guess… some things haven’t really changed, right?” Jolyon: “Ha.”

Panel 28: Close up of Jolyon’s face from the side. He is staring straight ahead again, smiling faintly. Jolyon: “Right…”

Panel 29:  Jolyon looks slightly down, his smile has fallen and his brow has furrowed as his expression grows distant. Dark, scratchy marks are bleeding into the edge of the panel, fading out the edges. Jolyon: “...”

Panel 30: extreme close up of Jolyon’s eye, squeezed shut. Dark scratchy marks surround the panel, creating a chaotic background and bleeding into the panel. Voice offscreen: “Jolyon…”

Panel 31: A younger version of Jolyon turns towards the camera from the side, with a confused expression. His hair is pulled back into a bun, and he is wearing a light green sweatshirt. The background is faded purples and blues, and Jolyon is outlined in surreal surreal shades of pink and purple. The panel is outlined by dark scratch marks, spiky thorns, and black flowers outlined in vibrant shades of pink, purple, and green. The text bubbles appear to be glitching out, with scratchy fragments coming out of them. Voice offscreen: “Why’d you do it?” Jolyon: “What?”

Panel 32: Shot of Uldren sitting on a rock, from behind. He is leaning forward, resting his hands on his knees, and staring down at the ground. His hair is falling over his face, and his expression is not visible. The surreal lighting continues in this panel, and Uldren is outlined in pinks and purples with the panel being surrounded by dark scratch marks, spiky thorns, and black flowers outlined in bright colors. Uldren: “Why did you come with us, Jol?”

[koiiiji]

First of all miss u and ur windbreaker fics 🖤 Don't know if u ever done, a truth or dare fic with windbreaker characters wooin or any other character u like☺️ were it can get a little steamy 👀 like the reader was dared to kiss joker and they kiss. Wooin gets jealous or something lol

author’s note ; finally in that state when i can equally pay attention to both lookism and wb fandoms!! thank you for request, and sorry for delay😵‍💫

summary ; happening before vinny entered the team, like 3-4 seasons

tw ; alcohol, suggestive

boring evenings dragged on one after another, a break in the "league of streets" freed up a lot of time for you and your friends. and that's why you were hanging out at your apartment right now, suffering absolute idleness with Hyuk, waiting for Wooin and Joker to come from another deal or underground fight or whatever shit they are doing right now.

Hyuk bored poked at the screen, cozily sitting in an armchair, occasionally making sarcastic comments and saying, "yo, open the tiktok, i just threw off some real jokes." while you've already exhausted yourself waiting, and just hung your head down and threw legs on the cushions of the sofa, mumbling in response to another tiktok with a monkey, "fuck off, learn what humor is."

throwing the phone aside, you sigh and looked at the clock. it's almost 12 am and friday, so you weren't surprised that Wooin and Joker were messing with their business for so long, but still they must have at least some kind of conscience!!! these two donkeys promised to come back at 10pm and take a drink with them, and right now without any alcohol in your system it was quite difficult to tolerate Hyuk's jokes about monkeys and about a non-existent love triangle between you and two idiots who were already 2 hours late. and in your opinion, he's been pushing Joker's candidacy too hard since Wooin intentionally woke up him early in the morning three days ago, just because he woke up early himself.

Hyuk, bored and still poking at his screen, looked up when you let out a frustrated sigh. "relax, they'll be here soon," he said with a dismissive wave, eyes flickering back to his phone. you were about to retort when the sound of the apartment door unlocking made you both perk up. Wooin and Joker stumbled in, looking tired but triumphant, with a couple of bags in their hands. "you two still in same room and didn't commit any crime? im impressed," Wooin said, kicking the door shut behind him. Joker, ever the stoic, gave a brief nod in acknowledgment, setting the bags down on the coffee table. "we got the drinks," he said simply.

Hyuk sprang up from his chair, abandoning his phone. "about time, i was starting to think you'd gotten yourselves into another fight." he rummaged through the bags, pulling out bottles of soju and beer.

"close enough," Wooin said with a smirk, dropping onto the couch next to you. "but that's a story for another time."

You rolled your eyes, reaching for a bottle and cracking it open. "you guys owe us big time," you said, taking a swig. "Hyuk's been driving me nuts." Hyuk threw a middle finger at you playfully. "love you too, buddy."

as the drinks flowed and the evening wore on, the atmosphere in the apartment grew more relaxed and jovial. jokes and laughter filled the room, the earlier boredom forgotten. someone suggested playing a game, and before long, you all found yourselves gathered in a circle on the floor, playing a rowdy game of truth or dare.

"alright," Wooin said, eyes glinting mischievously. "it's your turn," he pointed at you, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "truth or dare?" you hesitated, knowing Wooin's penchant for wild dares. but with the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in your system, you felt a surge of boldness. "dare." and that's where Hyuk intervened and interrupted Wooin. "i dare you to kiss Joker." Hyuk's grin widened.

room fell silent, all eyes turning to Joker, who was lounging against the couch with his usual calm, almost detached expression. you glanced at him, feeling a flicker of nervousness. Joker met your gaze, his face unreadable. and you were about to back out when Wooin, who had been unusually loud one, suddenly shutted his mouth, turning his face away and taking a big sip. Hyuk laughed. "come on, it's just a game!"

feeling the pressure from everyone's stares, you took a deep breath and leaned toward Joker. to your surprise, he didn't pull away. instead, he remained perfectly still, legs spread widely, one if his knees been up and hand with beer in it was resting there, and his eyes locked on yours. the kiss was brief, just a soft press of lips, but it felt like it lasted an eternity.

when you pulled back, Joker's calm demeanor was unchanged, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Wooin, on the other hand, looked distinctly unhappy. He avoided your gaze, taking a long drink from his bottle again.

the game continued, but Wooin's mood cast a shadow over the fun. his usually loud and mischievous attitude was replaced with a sullen silence, and he kept drinking more than talking. as the night wore on and the alcohol flowed, the atmosphere grew hazy. the room was filled with laughter and half-hearted jokes, but the underlying tension never dissipated. you found yourself glancing at Wooin, who was avoiding eye contact with everyone, especially you.

eventually, the need for another drink drove you to the kitchen. You rummaged through the fridge, feeling the cool air wash over your flushed face. as you grabbed a beer, the kitchen door swung open, and Wooin stepped in. the two of you stood in silence for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the refrigerator. "hey," you said softly, breaking the silence. Wooin looked up, his eyes dark and slightly irritated. "hey."

"are you okay?" you asked, closing the fridge door and leaning against the counter. he scoffed, leaning against the doorway. "why wouldn't i be?"

"you seem upset," you replied, trying to gauge his mood. he took a step closer, his expression hardening. "why would i be upset? it's not like i care that two my friends just kissed."

you blinked, taken aback by his tone. "Wooin, it's just a game. you know that."

"yeah, sure," he said, rolling his eyes.

"what's your problem?" you snapped, feeling your frustration rise. "my problem?" he echoed, his voice rising. "maybe my problem is watching my friend make out with another friend and everyone pretending it's no big deal."

"and what's so special about it? you never saw people kissing?" you raise your voice as well, starting to feel irritated. he ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. "forget it," he muttered, turning around and leaving the kitchen. "it's nothing."

"it's obviously not nothing," you insisted, stepping closer and grabbing his wrist. "why can't you just tell m-" he didn't let you finish when he turned around abruptly and grabbing both of your hands, putting them behind your back, pressing you into the kitchen unit and leaning in kissing you, his lips pressing against yours with a fervor that took your breath away. this kiss was different from the one with Joker - hungrier, more desperate. you melted into it, letting your hands out of his grip, finding their way to his hair as he pressed you with his hips against the counter. the kiss deepened, and the world outside the kitchen ceased to exist. it was just you, Wooin and the heat between you, growing more intense by the second. his hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, and you responded in kind, your body aching for more of his touch.

you moaned into his lips as you felt his teeth lightly nip at your bottom lip, pulling it back a bit, before running his forked tongue over the swollen area. his hands moved lower, squeezing your ass tighter and lifting you higher to sit you on the kitchen counter.

now you were looking down at him, running your hands down his neck, burying it in his jet black hair, pulling him back, for another kiss. Wooin stood between your legs, pressing your body closer to his, so you could feel his warmth, his hunger and greed for your touch and hands. you whined something inarticulate into his lips again when you felt one of his hands slide lower, unzipping your jeans and nimble fingers slipped under the thick fabric. barely touching, teasing and playing with your clit through the fabric of your panties, he shut up each of your moans with another kiss, pressing his tongue deeper in your mouth.

finally breaking away from each other, you both didn't look away, afraid to disturb the silence of the kitchen, and only quiet attempts to catch your breath sounded in the darkness of the room. smiling mischievously on you, Wooin was about to kiss you again, and his fingers was about to pull your panties aside, when the light suddenly turned on, and with the most sour and disgusted expression on his face, Hyuk appeared in the corridor "eeew guys, right in front of my beer? seriously?"

[vhyunjinverse]

STORE RUN !

c. yeonjun x black!f reader || (18+) || reblogs would be appreciated <3 !!

warnings: none really! fluff. mentions of vaginal bleeding (reader’s on their period), cursing, man buying lady stuff !!

Yeonjun’s nickname for you is Baba..don’t ask why, i think it’s very fitting for him (lol)

“What’s wrong Baba?” His lips are in a small pout while he listened to you whine on the other end of the phone, followed by a loud groan.

“My uterus is beating my ass..can you grab me some pads? The ones I usually get- oh, better yet, there’s this pad underwear I like to get too- can you get that as well?” As you’re talking, Yeonjun could only stare at the doors of the store he was in, thinking if he left now he wouldn’t have to go on such a complicated mission.

“Pads..right.” He finishes, a sudden fear running down his back at your silence on the other end of the phone. “Junie..” You start, followed by a small chuckle. “You know what I’m talking about right?”

“Yeah-yeah! Duh, cmon now. I can get pussy stuff for my girlfriend. Cmon, what else you need, some chocolates? I’ll get that too.” He huffs, grabbing a small basket and immediately heading for the snack isle to start filling it with your favorite snacks and his as well.

You start cackling at the “pussy stuff” comment. Yeonjun was always a sweet guy to you, you were similar in lots of ways which meant you bickered over every damn thing. But it was especially worse when you’re on your period, the way you’d quite literally be going to war with him.

He hums in your ear as you lay there in bed with him on speaker. You had freshened up, using the last pad you had until he returned. Another thing Yeonjun did was sing to you. The heating pad warmed your body but it didn’t help as much as you thought it did, like every month.

“You know, I watched this video once where this woman said that if you put your feet in warm water it’ll help. You wanna try that?” He gets the idle with the feminine products, eyes scanning for the ones he’s most familiar with.

“..Mm, probably.” You whine, feeling your stomach turn at the sudden pain. “It hurts..” You groan.

Yeonjun cracked a small smile, his fingers twitched instinctively. Usually he’d be there in bed with you, rubbing your body to help best he could. Once he finds the pads he goes down just a bit for the underwear you mentioned.

“What size for these? I don’t wanna get anything too big or too small.”

You yawn, telling him your size and he happily grabs two of the boxes. He listens patiently, looking over his basket of things while you tell him about some other stuff you’ve wanted to try that you’ve heard about. Not knowing that there were some ladies talking around him- about him.

He smiled and nodded anyways as if you could see him. “Mhm…eh- you want some food before i get back? I got snacks but I can get some takeout?”

“Yes please.” you squeaked, giggling to yourself on how spoiled he had you. “And when you get back you can finish helping me take down my hair.”

“What? Hang on baby i think you’re cutting out-“

“Yeonjun-“

“Ahhh i can’t hear you bad reception love you bye beautiful!”

You couldn’t even stop yourself from laughing, waiting on him to come back.

[callmelola111]

guilty conscience ☆ part one

⭑ part 2 , part 3 , part 4 , part 5 →

synopsis: it’s your first year at college and you’re 1,500 miles away from home. you’d feel completely alone if it wasn't for your attractive roommate ellie. will this attraction complicate the already uncharted territory? or will she be the answer to all your problems?

      |✯| pairing & wc: college!ellie williams x roommate!reader. wc: 1.4k

      |✯| cw (by part): 18+ themes (MDNI), fem reader, modern au!ellie, feelings of angst, sexual themes on like the verge of smut, some swearing

a/n: hey lovelies!!!! this my first time posting a fic so plz enjoy. feedback is appreciated as long as it is constructive. im new to all of this, and still learning. i plan on making this into a series so expect more coming soon. sorry if this chapter is very reader-centric. once reader gets to know ellie better, i’ll write more about her perspective. this will be a slow burn despite part 1 already having sexual themes (lol sorry, couldn't help it), but do expect eventual real smut <3 <3 (p.s: lets b mutuals, message me!!)

As you packed the last of your belongings into your parents' 2008 Toyota, excitement was the last thing you were feeling. When speaking about college, most people explained this coming of age experience with phrases like “change”, “hard work”, and “no sleep”. These pessimistic descriptions made the big move that much harder. Unlike your friends from high school, you were crossing multiple states to attend your dream school. You would’ve been stuck in your home state too if it wasn’t for your impressive art portfolio which earned you a full-ride. Art school is where you know you’re meant to be, but the anxiety of doing it alone lingered.

Of course you were happy to be escaping the grapples of your small Republican town, but you couldn’t help but wonder if 1,500+ miles would really be the solution to all your problems.

                                          ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★

“God where is she??” you grunt to yourself. The brown swivel chair provided as dorm furniture was your only source of entertainment. You spun around in circles, checking your phone every few minutes. You were anticipating a text from Ellie Williams. Through the cracked screen your phone read 11:03pm and the notification wall was empty.

Ellie is supposed to be your roommate. The two of you had met through the university's online roommate matching system. Your interactions were limited to the few texts sent back and forth about move-in times and who’s bringing what. Ellie was supposed to show up 5 hours ago to move in her stuff but she never arrived. You consider messaging her to check-in but Ellie’s previous texts wreaked of un-interest so you thought it best to leave her alone. You knew nothing about the girl, or even what she looked like, but with her stand-offish demeanor and your overthinking, a friendship didn’t seem in the cards.

Another half-hour passes before the sound of keys rattling pulls you out of your trance. Realizing you’re about to be face-to-face with your new college roommate, you snap up from your slouched position and push your hair behind your ears in preparation.

The slender door lazily swings open and your gaze quickly shifts to the faux wood floors. There was a sense of hesitancy, like you weren’t ready to see your fate just yet. A pair of dirty, black converse covered in writing sulk into your line of sight, triggering you to look up. As you did, your eyes were met with the most jaw-droppingly beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. Peeking through her messy auburn locks were piercing jade green eyes and an angular nose scattered with freckles.

It was Ellie Williams, and she was the epitome of “cool girl". Your head spun with all kinds of thoughts as your physical body went idle. You sat before Ellie gawking until she broke the awkward silence that had gone unnoticed by you. 

“Uh, hi… I’m sorry for coming in so late… some stuff came up. But uh, I’m Ellie Williams.” She held her right hand out towards you to shake it. It took you a second, but you snapped out of her spell and quickly shook her hand in return.

“Shit- Ellie, hey, it’s uh, nice to finally meet you.” You stumbled through your words as nerves overpowered your usual confidence.  There was an obvious awkward tension between the two of you. A typical feeling when moving in with a complete stranger.

Silence loomed in the air as Ellie took a stationary tour around the small, 12 x 20 ft. dorm. She surveyed your side of the room, taking note of any items that could hint towards who you are as a person. Her eyes stopped on a band poster you had hung up just hours ago. 

“You listen to Sleater-Kinney?” she inquired. 

“Hell yeah, they’re one of my favorite bands. Honestly anything in the riot grrrl music scene is right up my alley. Do you listen?” you replied with more enthusiasm and less nerves than before. 

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Ellie answered nonchalantly. You took note of her answer realizing what it could mean. Sleater-Kinney was like the gayest band ever, and Ellie definitely knew that. Maybe she just likes them for their music, but it's possible she also found the lyrics laced with sapphic pining to be relatable. Selfishly, you were dying to know her sexual orientation. Ellie seemed like too much of a stranger to ask her outright and so the game of reading between the lines began. Little did you know, Ellie was wondering the exact same thing about you. 

It was getting late and Ellie decided to save unpacking for the morning when she wasn’t so tired. You climbed onto your stiff dorm mattress and fluffed your pillows for sleep. Ellie did the same in her bed. 

“Is it cool if I turn out the lights now?” you asked, still navigating the new social dynamic as roommates. Ellie replied with a gentle hum and you hit the switch turning the room pitch black. As you lay in bed all you can think of is Ellie and the future. You didn’t know what it was, but you knew she was special, and you yearned to understand her. With these thoughts in mind, your eyes slowly begin to droop and you slip into a deep slumber. 

The next thing you know Ellie is sitting at the foot of your bed staring straight into your soul. Her beautiful green eyes felt especially intense as the rest of her face was shadowed from the dark room. 

“Ellie- I-” you could barely get out 2 words as you sat up from bed flustered. You felt like prey and she was the hunter… and you liked it. Ellie slowly inched her way toward you, crawling on hands and knees. She didn’t have to say anything, you knew what she wanted.

Your plush thighs sat between her knees and her crotch hovered over yours, heat being exchanged. You wanted her so bad. You needed her. Ellie took your chin in her hand and pulled you in close. You exchanged breaths as her lips brushed up against yours. She couldn’t wait any longer and pressed her face into yours, capturing your lips which she so longingly desired for. You fell back onto your pillows and she followed intently.

Her body lay pressed against yours and she desperately shoved her wet tongue into your supple mouth. It was ravenous and you wanted more. You knew she did too as you began to feel the rotation of her hips digging into your pelvis. The heavy breaths coming from her swollen lips were in sync with the fervent grinding. You bucked your hips towards her in a frenzy. Ellie took her veiny hand and ran it along your waistband. As she began to slip it into your pants... you woke up to discover your own hands cupping the heat below and Ellie nowhere to be found. 

“What the fuck.” is all you could say. You pulled your hand from your pants and stared at the slick spider-webbing between your fingers. God this was humiliating. You climbed out of bed to wash your hands and glanced at the clock. It was 7:15am and Ellie was already gone. That seemed kinda odd for a 19 year old college student. You wondered where she had disappeared to so early in the morning.

Soon, the over-thinker took over and you began to grapple with the possibility that you said something out loud during your naughty wet dream. What if Ellie heard you? God what if you moaned her name?? What would you even say if she brought it up? Before you could formulate a hypothetical response, Ellie walked right through the door.

“AHh-” you yelped, startled by her presence. Ellie backed into the doorway holding a coffee in each hand. 

“God, sorry, you scared me.” you explained. Ellie shuffled back inside, twiddling her thumbs trying to decide what to say.

“Sorry, I just left to grab some coffee early this morning. I couldn’t sleep.” She continued, “I brought you one too. As an apology, for any trouble I might have caused by showing up at almost midnight to move in…”. Your cheeks flushed with color and you hoped she didn’t notice.

“Oh, thanks Ellie, that's nice. I promise there was no harm done.” you answered, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Seemingly enough, this news meant she was awake while you were, ya know... dreaming. Ellie definitely wouldn’t bring a pervert coffee though. Right? Either way, you knew one thing for sure, you've got to have her.

  ← masterlist ⭑ part 2 →

[queercoshon]

So this next story I'll be posting in 2 parts. The second part will definitely be racier. Based very loosely on a prompt given by @bigtobiggest Sorry if it's not exactly what you were looking for! The story ran away from me lol.

Without further ado, I present

A Kept Play Thing Pt. 1

CW: teasing/name calling, intox

Life has been a blur since you moved in with your girlfriend. It had been at least a few months, but less than a year of living with Olivia. However, you aren't exactly sure how much time has passed.

You remember moving in. You remember feeling exhausted hauling all those boxes in, and your girlfriend telling you to sit and rest. You remember Olivia giggling, but still concerned, as you huffed and puffed, trying to help lift the new couch up the few front steps. You remember feeling like your little pot belly was getting in the way. You remember finally collapsing on the couch and the celebration that followed.

Everything was moved in, but not unboxed and certainly not organized. Olivia had lived in the house for a few years already, so there were kitchen utensils, but she claimed exhaustion as well and put in an order to your favourite pizza place.

While waiting for it to arrive, she grabbed a box of craft ciders from the fridge and plopped them on the floor between you. She handed you a cherry one, which you chugged back gratefully. God, you were thirsty after all that exercise. You let out a belch, and she smirked and patted your belly, shaking loose a few more burps. She handed you another can while she went and got your housewarming present; a brand new gorgeous bong. It was different shades of blue and looked almost like stained glass. By the time she had ground the flower and held it to your mouth, the second cider was gone.

A few bong rips and you were soaring, and so hungry. By the time the pizza arrived, you'd consumed half a bag of oreos and another 2 ciders to deal with your cottonmouth.

Olivia handed you your large pizza and kissed your forehead, making you blink your eyes and smile dumbly.

"Eat up, baby. You're starving."

And you were. So you dove in, swallowing so fast and chewing so little Oliva was afraid you would choke. She kept interrupting your hoovering with the bong and endless cider sips, which you accepted every time.

She finished her personal sized pizza as you got lost in a haze, freely hiccupping, burping, and letting out little moans. Her hands fondled your belly, now sticking out of your shirt entirely.

You both knew the other person was very into this. Part of moving in together was influenced by your desire to let go, and your girlfriend's desire to blow someone up into an obese play thing. She already loved the contrast of your plush, curvy body, now just a little too big for size L clothing, up against her lithe and visibly muscular physique. She held the last piece of your pizza to your mouth, desperately eager to make you so much bigger.

You don't remember anything else from that night. You don't remember much of anything since then, really. Day blends into night and back into day for you. You wake at random times. Sometimes Olivia is home, sometimes she's not. There is always food for you, and always paired with booze and weed.

If Olivia's home, she helps you gorge by feeding you when you lose momentum, holding your chin up to take another swig when your head starts to lull, lighting your bong and countless joints, and rubbing your expanding gut to make some room and ease the ache. She makes sure your mouth is never idle. Often, you'll pass out in a drunken food coma mid-chew.

If she's out, either at work, the gym, out with friends, or shopping, she's set the expectation that everything she set out better be gone when she gets back.

You'll often crack open your eyes, and belch as you try to roll over, still drunk and/or high. But that won't stop you from reaching over to the night table and popping the tab on a beer or chugging back whatever mixed drink Olivia left for you. Your head spins as you light a joint, and even though you're still stuffed from when you previously passed out, you salivate as you look at the push cart beside you.

You're not sure, but you think the amount of food on it is growing. When you started this, she would leave enough food for 2 people plus leftovers, like an extra large pizza or stack of pancakes with bacon and sausage on the side. You would of course do as you were told and devour everything, rendering you speechless and breathless, temporarily beached in your bed or on the couch.

As the amount on the tray grew, so did you, though you were barely aware of it. You knew you were gaining weight, but you didn't register just how much and how quickly it happened. Your pot belly grew into a rounded gut, always taking up real estate on your thickened thighs. Your arms fattened up and stretched all your sleeves. Your chin quickly grew into three that shook and jiggled with every bite. Your chest sat on top of your belly, little mounds of sensitive flesh Olivia loved to play with to get you riled up. You wore just your underwear, or constantly new sweatpants and t-shirts. Olivia never sized up any of your jeans or nicer clothes. You never left the house so there was no point.

[this-is-fox-speaking]

FANTOCCIO FACTS POST (from screenshots i found in my own interests server)

- His name is italian for puppet, but he pronounces it incorrectly and insists it’s the correct way to say his name if anyone else points it out and says he’s wrong.

- He’s not from Italy, obviously. Goes to show. But Ash imagines he knows a bit of italian. (“Not enough Italian to say his name right.” - Katie.)

- Fantoccio has a pet shark named Sharkspeare! Mentioned in the song at the line “‘Cause Sharkspeare’s looking mean!”

- Fantoccio has to make all his own props, set pieces, clothes, etc in the theatre.

- Would never smoke, and would hate being around it/people who’re doing it actively.

- Fantoccio was made by Ash as a fan OC for the game, and this (as far as I’m aware) is what got them hired onto the game, cause Katie loved their ideas so much.

- Fantoccio is not very good with kids.

- Fantoccio’s favorite food is churros. This came from the fact Ash once had a dream about him infodumping about them cause he loved them so much, so they made it canon.

- Don’t worry, he can indeed taste things normally. No traditional taste buds, but some, nonetheless. Same goes for touch!

- Fantoccio is canonically autistic, having many traits of himself heavily projected from Ash, themself.

- When asked what his meltdown triggers could be, Ash thought that some might be: too much touching, being without his hat, or one of his props breaking.

- Fantoccio likes wearing dresses! Wears them if he feels like it or if the role calls for it, during a play.

- Ash thinks he’d ADORE snow.

- Fantoccio would 100% love spicy italian from subway.

- Fantoccio plays violin!

- Fantoccio would chant “I’m sleeping” when struggling to fall asleep, like his own version of counting sheep.

- He would NEVER say the Earth is flat.

- He’d be the “How do you do that” of that one keysmash meme, if paired with Barnaby.

- Ash once said that Fantoccio is like Duck from Don’t Hug Me I’m Scared.

- When doing a personality type test (and actually answering truthfully instead of in character) for Fantoccio, he ended up with ENTJ-T, Commander. Fanto would answer untruthfully on some questions, like if he ever gets insecure (“PFFFT NO THE ANSWERS NO”).

- He can go uwu in the bbu lore, but he’ll hate it. (“THIS IS STUPID!!!”)

- Fantoccio would apparently be a “mac and cheese FIEND.”

- He’d hate pranks (specifically a hand zapper in this case), because they’re unexpected. (“NEVER DO THAT AGAIN”)

- This also means he’d never troll anyone, cause he feels above that.

- Fanto would HATE hearing people crack their knuckles, like Ash does.

- Fantoccio loves to carve wood. Specifically only by hand, that’s how much he loves it! He carved the two giant wooden hands used in his battle, but his favorite thing to carve is ducks.

- Fantoccio is very intent on ONLY eating the few foods he knows he likes.

- If he were an ice cream, he’d be coffee flavor! Which is ironic, because Ash has also said that it’d probably be terrible to give Fantoccio caffeine.

- Fantoccio would LOVE chicken nuggets.

- Hates pizza, though. Too greasy and messy.

- Would enjoy having an ipad “a little too much. He would be super confused at first but once he learns how to use it DO NOT TAKE IT AWAY”. (kinda like Peridot from Steven Universe)

- He would like spruce wood in Minecraft, but also acacia “just to look at.”

- Ash adores pirates, so so does Fantoccio!

- He has no nose, so no sneezes!

- Appreciates detail as much as Barnaby does.

- Fanto would love birds!

- Fanto is not capable of curse words. Sad.

- Fantoccio would COLLAPSE trying to lift someone without his powers.

- He stims by patting his face and spinning around. Fidgets with his hands in concepts for his standing idle animations, because he’s uncomfortable with standing and prefers floating.

- He’d favor Murder Mystery!

- His wood is alive and can grow like a real boy! (if you’ve seen my post being reblogged around, lol)

- He lives in the lost city of magic, which is abandoned and overrun my magical zombies who used to be magic users, now with a terrible curse. So he lives mainly in his theatre. He’s not trapped, anymore, like his old story!

- Fantoccio’s powers are based around telekinesis and teleportation. It’s how he moves his body around!

- He used to have a plush toy rabbit he carried around, when he was younger, seemingly. It’s unclear where that went, when he got older.

- Fantoccio’s been locked up in this city for 15 years, since he was 8. Completely isolated (save for those zombies, I suppose)! When Billie comes along, though, he’s so excited to have something new to play with!

- Fanto’s song is inspired by Weird Al. Like 90% of this game is, of course /lh. He was also inspired by the pied piper!

- He’d dislike the idea of seafood. (“He’d be like “Why would anyone want to eat a fish?!” And cover Sharkspeare’s nonexistent ears like “Don’t listen to them!””)

- The red feather in his hat is also used as a pen!

- Fantoccio is a being of pure magic, having an entire magic gem be his whole life source. This means he can use magic endlessly without getting tired (I believe)!

- Fantoccio is 23, he/him, and pansexual.

- His face is made using magic. It disappears when/if he’s magic-less.

- Fantoccio can absolutely feel pain.

- When it comes to nature, Ash said he’d kinda be like Rarity from MLP:FiM, but certain kinds of nature he’d still really love. He’d really dislike walking through the wild or camping in general, but loves things like snow or flower fields. Just depends!

- Fantoccio would main Bowser in Mario Kart.

-In terms of favorite Halloween treats, Fantoccio would like anything chewy and fruity (no chocolate)!

- Canonically wears eyeliner.

- Magic sparks from his fingertips when he’s very excited!

- If Fantoccio was an animal, Ash says he’d be a cat.

- No traditional gross human stuff inside him like others, just wood and sap. “Whatever trees do.”

- His original concept by Ash was him having a purple phantom head, being a ghost in a puppet’s body. This was changed by Katie, I believe.

(feel free to add on if I missed anything! i’ll edit this post if i randomly remember something)

[thosewickedlovelies]

Messenger Bird  |  Oberyn Martell x afab!Reader x Ellaria Sand

Rating: E for Explicit

Summary: Your flight path finally brings you to the bedchamber of the Prince of Dorne

Tags: SMUT: oral (f recieving), unprotected PiV sex, mention of bondage; Ellaria is in bed with yous but I wouldn’t necessarily call this a threesome; reader vaguely describes themself as being less experienced than Oberyn but I don’t think that should exclude many people lol

Word count: 5,991

Note: This fic is inspired solely by a scene in @radiowallet‘s fabulous Oberyn fic, to which I responded "10/10 would be the person who ends up in bed with Oberyn because he answers the door with his dick out 🤷🏻‍♀️”

This is like, a roughly canon au where Oberyn and Ellaria are married and the regents of Dorne. It's also mostly PWP, so. enjoy lmao <3

Masterlist

“There are few good reasons to be disturbing a prince this early-”

The door opens-

“-but there is one reason I am generally inclined to forgive.”

-and the first thing you see is Prince Oberyn’s hand, wrapped around his cock.

You gape, stupefied. Though cast in bronze, not iron, the wholly naked body of the Prince of Dorne seizes your attention like a magnet. All of your good sense screams at you to avert your gaze, but how can you? 

His hand, and the length it grips, are both shiny, smudged with damp. Is it the same fluid beading at the tip of his cock? 

Or has it a different source? In the background you hear sheets rustling, and a familiar feminine voice drawling.

“Oberyn darling, you know what your advisors say about answering the door in your skin.”

The prince’s eyes had widened infinitesimally upon seeing you, surprise and delight flaring for a split second. That hand moved- up and down, ever so slightly. The faintest motion, just enough to convey that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Something secretive sparkled in Oberyn’s eyes, just barely curled the corners of his full mouth. “What my advisors say, and what our little raven’s face says are two very different things, my love.”

“Oh?”

You wrench your gaze back up to Oberyn’s face, eyes wide. Heat prickles and swarms over your skin. Your tongue has dried up in your mouth, leaving you quite unable to address Princess Ellaria even had you retained the wits to.

“What are you doing up so early, my little messenger bird? Surely there cannot be any urgent demands of me with the day barely dawned?” 

Emboldened, Oberyn leans more comfortably against the door frame, titling his head as he awaits your response. He continues to tug on his cock, an almost idle motion- except his pace is decidedly deliberate. His dark eyes gleam.

Oh, gods, what could you say? That you’d been driven mad by your own need? That there was an itch under your skin which nothing could satisfy, one that had only grown stronger since the bloom of summer and the carelessly revealing fashions Dorne and its prince preferred?

The truth was that you’d barely finished your tea this morn, anticipating that indeed, there should be no important messages for the prince this early, when the Maester’s bark had startled you to wakefulness. Now the small scroll he’d given you was all but crushed in your fist, and doubtless sweat-stained besides.

Mutely, you lift your hand. Small mercies- the tiny seal closing the parchment hadn’t cracked in your grip.

Oberyn measures you for another long moment, eyes narrowing slightly. Scoffing, he takes the scroll from you, releasing his cock with clear displeasure.

A faint breeze blows past you through the open door. It carries the distant murmur of waves crashing, and the ever-present scents of salt and oleander. Silk hangings above the bed sway, glimmering in the rich, fiery colors of the Martell family, tassels fluttering.

Oberyn’s fingers are still wet. They leave fingerprint smudges where he adjusts his grip on the paper. His cock bobs with the faint shifting of his body, his eyes narrowing as he reads. Taking advantage of his distraction, you risk a longer look at the utterly bare body of Oberyn Martell.

Stripped of his usual flowing robes, the prince somehow appears taller. Every part of him is long and lean, rangy muscles stretched along his shapely frame. Despite his frequent act as the long-suffering hedonist forced to rule, there is a sharp intelligence about him- a calculating mind turning beneath hair often mussed by sleep, sex, or spearwork.

His cock is as long and sturdy as he is. As bronze, too. A trim thatch of hair curls neatly around the base, climbing up and stopping teasingly short of his navel. You wonder if the prince sunbathes nude, to achieve such uniformly sun-dipped skin. The moisture coating the hair and skin of his groin shimmers and winks, scattering your thoughts, and you swallow thickly.

You look up again, but you’d lingered too long- Oberyn is watching you already, his mouth curved up the slightest bit. 

He drops the parchment carelessly to the floor. “Tell me true, now, messenger bird. It is only unfortunate happenstance that has kept us from meeting in my bedchamber before now, yes?”

If before there was mischief in his eyes, now it is tempered by a clear, hard demand for truth. Of all the whispers throughout the palace of the prince’s exploits, one unquestionable feature was always present: Oberyn didn’t take unwilling lovers. One entered his bed out of desire, not obligation.

You allow your professional façade to thaw, shaking yourself free of the shock and focusing on the other feelings that the prince always inspired. Delight. Desire. Hunger.

“Yes, my prince.” You dip your head coyly, lashes fluttering.

Oberyn’s smile is that of one who has just learned his long-laid plans have come to fruition- and he intends to savor the results.

“Would you like to come in now? I hope you will not mind my wife’s presence- it is the princess’s bed too, you understand.”

Oberyn steps back in invitation, opening the door wider for you. That hardness has not completely left his eyes- there is flint to it, an almost-challenge sparking.

But your attention is no longer on the prince.

His movement has revealed the princess, still abed behind him. Ellaria has turned on her side toward the door, supported by a cushion pulled to her chest. The fact that it covers the delicate parts of her otherwise bare torso is plainly more by accident than design- the outer curve of her right breast is clearly visible, tan skin an obvious contrast against the orchid-purple silk of the pillow. Her slim frame is barely a ripple in the sheets of the enormous bed, yet her presence commands- no eye could resist her allure. Your lips part.

Ellaria smiles lazily, hooded eyes shimmering with laughter at the knowledge between you.

“I can think of little I would mind less, my lord.” Ellaria’s reaction warms you, inspires a bit more confidence, and you manage to stand a little straighter as you enter the room.

Oberyn glances between you and his wife. “Have I missed something?” he inquires. 

The door closes, and then you’re aware of Oberyn behind you, so close you can feel the heat radiating from all of his bare flesh.

Your mouth goes dry again. If Ellaria was the encouraging warmth of an arm around the shoulders, Oberyn was heat- mercurial as a desert wind. A temperature vacillating on the cusp of dangerous.

Thankfully, Ellaria seems immune to Oberyn’s effect. “I’m afraid our sweet messenger bird made a rather…special delivery to me last week, while you were otherwise occupied, my prince.”

“My heart! You did not tell me?” You can feel Oberyn puffing up behind you, his tone full of indignance.

The princess presses her lips together, clearly stifling amusement. “It was entirely too brief an affair, in honesty. Everything was busy during that period- it must have simply slipped my mind. Truly, I’m sorry, my love.” Her dark eyes shine, but the apology is sincere. Sweet and simple as sugared almonds.

“Hmmm.” Oberyn’s considering hum rumbles through you, like the purr of a great cat. “This morn is my turn, then. After that we will be even.”

You jump at the brush of his hands on your waist. The prince was out of sight behind your back, and his touch was a surprise that sent gooseflesh rippling over you.

“How does that sound, sweet bird? Will you let me ravish you like such a one as lovely as you deserves to be ravished? Will you share a morning of pleasure with your prince?” Oberyn lowers his voice to a deep rasp in your ear; he toys with the raven-black sash of your messenger’s uniform, but does not loosen it. 

Your body tightens and warms from top to toe. Ellaria has not taken her eyes off you; her gaze scorches like a fresh coal in a warming pan.

“I would be honored, my prince.” 

It would be a lie to say you weren’t nervous. There were rumors, of course, of the prince’s inclinations in the bedchamber. If nothing else, his experience far surpassed your own; he liked things to go his way, but this, at least, would suit you fine.

Finally, Oberyn pulls free the tie of your sash. He draws it off your shoulders, but then, still holding it, comes to stand in front of you. The gather of fabric is just enough to block your view of his sex.

“You must promise me one thing, Bird. You will tell me, if we veer too close to anything you do not want. Any activity, any place on that lovely body. I do not force things on my companions.

“I am a man of many desires, but among them will never be thus. I am your prince, not your master.” Oberyn holds your gaze.

A fragment of uncertainty still holding tight in your chest dissipates. “I understand. I promise, my prince.”

Those obsidian eyes soften slightly. “You may use my name.”

You hesitate. Even your fantasies had not dared to dream of such familiarities. “I promise…Prince Oberyn.”

Oberyn smiles then, a wide, pleased expression. He tosses your sash to the side, revealing his cock still proud and alert. He moves closer, and you’re reminded of the great cats that stalk the mountains in the north of Dorne- all sleek, bunching muscles and a singular focus on the object of their hunt. In this moment, you suppose that would make you the prey. It’s a dizzying, thrilling  thought: that the prince of Dorne, the Viper himself, seeks you.

As his hands seek your jaw now, sliding along your skin with the slowness of one who knows well the effect his touch has. Oberyn cradles your face in his hands, lifting your chin, your mouth- a cup from which he intends to drink deep. His breath brushes your lips, syrupy with the taste of wine. 

Oberyn’s dark eyes bore into your face. “Sweet bird,” he murmurs. His rasp is the last thing you hear before his mouth touches yours, and then your head fills with wind. Blood rushing and roaring in your ears, blotting out all other sensation but Oberyn’s mouth, full and soft and confident, urging you to follow his motions, guiding you into his world of sensual wonder.

And you follow willingly. You part your lips to the prince’s tongue, and relish the confidence with which he slips inside, weaving layers of sensation into the kiss.

Oberyn still holds your face to his. His hands span the entire length of your jaw, and they are not idle: his fingertips stroke and massage in small motions, sending tingles down your neck, pleasure rippling through you like wind through tall grass. You become aware, suddenly, of Oberyn’s body- it’s easing gradually closer to your own, the entire burning mass of it sending heat through your clothes, like leaning against the chimney of a great hearthfire. You inhale sharply. 

The prince withdraws from your kiss. He studies your wide, dreamstruck eyes, your lips, now appropriately kiss-swollen. Smirking, he looks to Ellaria for approval. His wife’s gaze travels down your body.

“I didn’t get to see her last time.” The princess pouts. “Undress her for me, darling?”

“Anything for you, my love.”

Oberyn returns his attention to you. “Yes?” His hands skate meaningfully down your back, to the laces of your dress.

“Yes,” you answer, and his hands are already working. “-to both.”

Oberyn laughs once, loud and bright with surprise. “Careful, sweet bird, or I will think you are here only to steal my wife from me.”

Ellaria’s eyes sparkle. “Sweet words from a sweet bird, indeed.” She shifts to lie more comfortably, relocating her long fall of curls with the sweep of a practiced hand. The cushion is carelessly adjusted, and then her right breast is fully visible, as pert and lovely as you only briefly glimpsed during your meeting. 

Ellaria faintly smirks at your expression, but a moment later you are both distracted. Your gown sags in the familiar shapelessness of undone laces, and Oberyn is quick to take advantage. He traces the exposed skin up your spine, and you arch at his touch, your lungs filling. You move to help him remove the gown, but he stops you.

“Slowly, now,” Oberyn whispers in your ear. “Give the princess something to long for.”

He draws your dress slowly down your shoulders, and you mark the speed. As slow and languorous as a drizzle of honey pools on a cake. Your heart beats fast. You have never made a performance of undressing for a lover- surely the lovemaking itself ought to be the show?

But as you grip the bodice of your dress, lowering it with exaggerated slowness, pulling the fabric tight to emphasize your breasts about to spill free- you think you understand. Ellaria’s gaze rivets to your chest, growing hungrier the longer you and Oberyn take to bare you. What is a main act, after all, without the opening scenes?

Your own hunger rises as you witness Ellaria’s. You finally lower the gown to bare your breasts entirely, but Oberyn’s hands immediately cover them. You gasp. His movement was unexpected…and very distracting. A small sound of pleasure breaks from you as the prince’s callused hands massage the tender flesh in a way that feels entirely deliberate. Knowledgeable. Like he knows exactly what this will do- this squeeze, this twist of your nipple, this-

“Keep going,” Oberyn purrs.

-this command, given in his sensual rasp.

Between the prince at your back and the princess to your front, you have nowhere to hide. No way to. Everywhere you are confronted with something that stokes the flame of desire steadily growing within you.

Oberyn had told you to keep going. One by one, you free your arms from their sleeves, letting the morning sun play on your skin, the sea breeze raise the fine hairs. The prince’s hands continue to massage your breasts, exploring every dip and curve of your torso as your gown drops further. Finally it’s at your hips, and without any extra encouragement you push it down to pool around your feet.

Wearing nothing but the morning light, you stand before the regents of Dorne. 

Or you try to- Oberyn has molded himself to your back, mouthing at your neck, and suddenly your knees struggle to hold you upright.

Any self-consciousness you thought you’d feel fades away as you turn in Oberyn’s arms to kiss him, and are welcomed eagerly. The prince rewards your initiative with an approving groan, hauling you to him, encouraging you to get as close as you wish. Every inch of him is firm with muscle, standing sturdy against your desperate grasping. You can’t decide what to reach for first- you want to touch all of him.

Especially the burning length trapped between your hips. You reach for it, and Oberyn lets out another low sound of pleasure, breaking your kiss as you tip your head down to watch yourself touch him.

Oberyn wraps his hand around yours, stilling your motions. “Patience, Bird.” His eyes dance, warm and amused. “We have plenty of time. I think the princess is getting lonely, yes?”

He herds you gently toward the bed, where Ellaria is indeed waiting, with something like envy on her face.

What could she possibly have to be envious of? The princess had no reason to suffer such an emotion. She could end this, remove you from her husband’s arms, with but a word.

What you don’t see, as Oberyn's handful of your rear interferes with your tentative climb into the bed, is that Ellaria’s gaze is not on the prince, but on you.

Your elbows buckle and you squeak. 

“Hurry up, or I will assume you wish to be kept in this position,” Oberyn growls from behind you- from over you. He has clambered over your back, draping himself over you and planting his hands on your wrists.

His tone is light with jest, but you have no doubt he means it. This is a common theme in many of the oft-whispered stories- if the prince and princess like someone enough, they might keep them a whole day, or night, or any length of time, really. For their use and pleasure alone. Even restrained, if the guest wishes- and from what you’ve heard, enough have wished it to make you wonder.

The thought makes you shiver. As does Oberyn’s grip, dragging your hands gently upward, forcing your face and chest flat against the silk sheets. Your breathing quickens. Oberyn’s hips press into your rear, his cock rubbing between your cheeks, and with your knees spread the way they are, you can feel the wetness of your own arousal smeared cool against your inner thighs. 

Heat flares in your cheeks. Is Oberyn going to fuck you already?

“Mmm,” he rumbles into your neck. “That is very tempting, but I shall take my own advice, I think. Patience.”

And Oberyn demonstrates a great store of patience, indeed. You lie, belly down in slippery silk, for an immeasurable length of time as the prince drags his mouth along every inch of your skin. You squirm and pant and moan under the delicious assault, fresh slick welling when he lingers where your thighs meet. His weight lifts off you as Oberyn finally descends, imprinting new damp patches down your left leg.

You take the opportunity to shift, half turning on your side toward Ellaria. She’s watching you, eyes slumberous and knowing. Her fingers trace light paths across your arms and chest- the first time she’s touched so much of your bare skin.

“Will you bring us songs as well as messages in the future, sweet bird? You sound so lovely when you sing.”

“If the prince and princess wish it,” you answer honestly.

You yelp as Oberyn switches legs, nipping your right ankle. Your flinch draws Ellaria’s attention to your chest. Her hand moves lower, boldly caressing the supple, sensitive flesh, all the while watching your face. She thumbs your nipple experimentally, and you bite your lip. She pinches it, and you gasp, the touch zinging straight to your core. 

This time your motion twitches your thigh away from Oberyn’s mouth. With a growl, he crawls back up the bed, shoving himself unceremoniously between you and Ellaria. 

“You have already had your fun, my love.” The prince falls atop his wife, his teeth at her neck. “Do not make me restrain you this morn.” 

He swallows the princess’s giggles with a shamelessly wanton, thorough kiss. 

“That would be a terrible torture, indeed.” Ellaria is finally able to agree, teasingly, breathlessly. “Very well, my love. I shall not interrupt your designs.”

Oberyn kisses her again, quick and soft. Resting his forehead against hers, he turns his head to you. “Perhaps after I am through with her, you can give me a reenactment of your meeting.”

His eyes gleam wickedly as he looks at you while addressing his wife.

They are both impossibly beautiful. Inky hair and rich coloring- the very sun yearns to embrace them, its golden arms reaching across the bed. They appear all the more unearthly when gilded with its light; untouchable as muses, models which sculptors might strive their whole lives to do justice.

But they are as physical as you. The illusion is broken when Oberyn again slides his body across yours, pleasure striking like sparks over your skin.

“Come, sweet one. I wish for my messenger bird to perch upon my face.”

Oberyn wants you to…sit on his face? Why? 

The prince stretches out on your other side. You sit up, wanting to oblige him but unsure of his intent. You don’t understand until Oberyn reaches for your sex, stroking lightly in a beckoning gesture. He growls in satisfaction at the slickness that readily coats his fingers.

Oberyn reads the hesitation in your face. “You have not done this before.”

“No, my prince. I’m sorry.”

“Do not apologize. It is an honor to teach new pleasures to the subjects in my care.”

The sheets rustle as Ellaria strokes your thigh comfortingly. “Oberyn had much to teach me, as well, when I first came to his bed. You will like this,” she assures you.

Oberyn makes no objection to his wife’s touch this time. “What is going to happen is you, lovely bird, are going to sit that shapely bottom here-” he pats his chest “-which will allow me to taste your sweetness directly from the source.” He dips the tips of those beckoning fingers into your cunt, leaving no doubt as to his meaning.

You are stunned all over again. Although this time some of your bemusement is surely due to the way the prince’s thumb joins his fingers, pressing at the bud of your sex even while his fingers continue to rub at something divine inside you.

You arch and whimper. “Prince Oberyn-!”

He chuckles, a pleased, approving sound. “That’s right, sweet bird. Come, take your perch and sing.”

The prince tugs and maneuvers you just so, arranging you above his mouth. His fingers are wet on your thigh.

His mouth is wetter. You moan, high and long and helpless, when Oberyn’s mouth engulfs your sex. Past lovers have done this for you (albeit in more traditional positions), but Oberyn has clearly received a prince’s education even in the carnal arts. Slippery heat and suction, concentrated pressure and indiscriminate lapping- somehow he knows precisely what to do and where, and when, and for how long-

“Ah~!” you cry out again as pleasure rushes up all too suddenly, pressure about to burst like a geyser. You squirm and try to lift away from Oberyn, but his arms are wrapped around your thighs, keeping you firmly in place. Surely it would be rude to climax before the prince?

Ellaria’s grip above your knee has tightened. In your parted lips, your heaving chest, she reads the signs.

“Take your pleasure, sweet bird.” Her eyes are now wide, rather than sleepy. “You needn’t wait to reach your peak.”

Her intent gaze is all the permission you need- as is Oberyn’s tongue, twisting relentlessly at your clit. Your uncertainty snaps at his wordless demand. Pleasure floods your system, climax shuddering through every muscle, everything pulling abruptly tight before releasing

The onslaught of bliss gradually recedes. Accompanying the very last of it is a long, deep sigh- a confirmation of relief if there ever was one. Your thighs tremble suddenly, after holding tense for so long. Your hands fall to Oberyn’s head to support yourself, fingers instinctively stroking through the short, bristly strands of his hair.

The prince tips his head back into your caress, revealing his mouth and chin shiny with your release. His eyes glint with satisfaction. 

“Was that as sweet for you as it was for me, Songbird?” 

“I daresay it was, my prince.” You are breathless and overcome with the sudden urge to giggle.

You begin to ease off of Oberyn, your limbs clumsy as if affected by the same buzzing that fills your head. It’s a giddy, bubbling sensation; it reminds you of a party the palace hosted, not long ago. You don’t remember the reason, now. Only that the prince had used it as an excuse to share a marvelous new kind of wine he’d discovered on his travels- a sweet, white vintage which fizzed, in which bubbles rose endlessly, seemingly without source or cause. It sparkled in mouths and in spirits all night long. He’d invited all the palace staff to the celebration, to try this magical wine, and had caught your eye that night. Your spirit lifted by the bubbles, you’d smiled at Oberyn.

Nothing came of it that night, of course. But now, with your body loose as if that wine were still fizzing in your veins…you cannot find it in you to feel disappointed. 

Oberyn takes a second to ensure that you are again lying snugly between him and Ellaria. Then he leans over you entirely, his mouth still shiny, and Ellaria sits up slightly to meet him. She moans at the taste of you in his kiss.

Oberyn’s manhood presses into your thigh. It is insistently hard, a ruddy flush to it now, and leaking freely. The fluid smears onto your skin. Eyes wide, you are entranced by the prince and princess all over again.

The ends of Ellaria’s raven curls brush your arm, soft and sweet-smelling. Following them upward, your eye catches on a necklace encircling her throat. A slender gold chain rests atop her collarbone. From it dangles small stones, their polished surfaces catching the light in shades suggesting a sunrise: pink, lavender, topaz. It seems to glimmer with a light all its own, the chain links shifting and tinkling as Ellaria moves.

“Perhaps you will have to try our topsy-turvy position with her as well, my love.” Oberyn murmurs against Ellaria’s lips, and you’d swear her cheeks colored the slightest tinge.

Turning his head, the prince notices what has caught your attention.

“Do you like her necklace, sweet bird?”

Oberyn shifts his body over yours as he speaks. Distracted by his words, you almost don’t notice the prince’s body sinking between your legs- until you feel a cool brush of air where there hadn’t been, and something rigid, long, and hot settle at the seam of your cunt. You draw a startled breath.

“I like how it sparkles and chimes when I fuck her, “ Oberyn croons in your ear. His tongue flickers at your neck, every inch the viper; the sensation crackles down your spine like a whip-strike of fresh pleasure. “Shall we find one for you?”

Your mouth hangs open, but no air or sound passes in either direction. Perhaps there are too many sounds you could make, and not enough air in the room; all you can do is stare.

Taking your shock as assent, Oberyn directs Ellaria to pick something for you. “We keep a jewelry box by the bed for this very purpose.” The prince smirks.

Ellaria stretches toward the nightstand at Oberyn’s bid, the sheets slithering down her back. She could be a sea-nymph, reaching out from a pool of gold, the silk glimmering like water around her. It is a mesmerizing sight: Ellaria’s long back, a slim braid of muscles flickering as she rummages in a drawer. Her arm arcs upward suddenly, triumphant, and when she turns back the silk slips lower still, and you glimpse what you had only felt between her legs that day…

Ellaria dangles her prize before your face. A short chain of gold like hers, but from which hang smaller stones like clusters of grapes, winking in the light. You can’t imagine wearing something so fine- but then, you couldn’t imagine being welcomed into the prince and princess’s bed before this morning, either. Being adored and adorned by two such breathtaking individuals at once.

“Perfect.” Oberyn’s declaration is hushed and reverent. “This will shine like stars against your skin.” 

“Put it on,” he orders. Then he nearly whispers, “Let us get you ready for me, songbird.”

In his tone is a wicked desire that you realize had been banked, before now. But now- as he pins your legs open with his own body, with his own hand- you sense there is no stopping it.

Oberyn slips two fingers into you, the first rush of the flood he had thus far contained. You gasp, thighs spasming. But Oberyn had drawn from you a flood of your own earlier, and there was no pain, only sudden recognition of an ache- a hunger for more than just the prince’s fingers.

Ellaria drags the end of the necklace over your chest. The metal scrapes gently over your nipples, a startling but not unpleasant sensation, and you squirm at the onslaught of stimulation- Oberyn’s fingers filling you, Ellaria’s fingers brushing your throat- and finally, the close-fitting chain clasping snugly around your neck.

You swallow, and feel the resistance of the unyielding metal against the bob of your throat. Oberyn watches you intently, hungrily. His fingers still move inside you, experimenting with one motion, then another, tracking your reaction to each one. You hitch your thighs open wider as sensations compete for your attention. You tip your head back, exposing your now-bejeweled throat to Oberyn.

“Do I sparkle enough for you, my prince?”

One corner of his mouth curls up, but it’s an almost mocking effect combined with the glitter in his eyes. “Let us find out, little raven.”

Without further warning, Oberyn’s fingers withdraw from your cunt. Every muscle in you tightens, your awareness narrowing in anticipation. Oberyn strokes his cock through your sex, readying you. Your hips lift toward the sensation. Your eyes lock.

The prince of Dorne plunges his cock into you in a single, breathtaking stroke. Your head drops back; your eyes roll heavenward. Oberyn’s loud, satisfied moan fills the room. He relishes this moment as fully as he enjoys everything else he does, his hips grinding forward into yours like he cannot get enough of himself inside you.

Your eyes are squeezed shut, your breathing short. Oberyn’s cock fills you like nothing you’ve ever felt, until there is no room for you to focus on anything but the thick, burning length of him.

“Look at me, Bird. Open your eyes.”

How can you do anything but obey? 

Oberyn’s gaze is fiercely alive, shining with joy and triumph at the pleasure connecting you.

You can hardly speak, but he sees it in your eyes; you have never been so thrilled to feel like a mouse in the cat’s claws. 

After that there is nothing more to be said. Oberyn ravishes you as he promised, raining praises like word of law, scandalous declarations that make you blush despite your position beneath him. Every stroke of his cock is a work of art. The prince draws out your pleasure from a seemingly endless spool, until you are unraveled, trembling, teetering on the knife’s edge of bliss.

The necklace around your throat did indeed glitter like a chain of stars. Oberyn thrusts into you hard, taking it as a challenge to make the stones chime louder than you sobbed each time. He thoroughly enjoys the way each thrust makes your curves ripple. He enjoys, too, the sight of his wife plastering herself to your shoulder, cooing encouragement even as she contributes to Oberyn’s treatment.

“You’re doing so well, sweet bird. My husband does have stamina, doesn’t he? And this after he had me earlier this morn…” Ellaria’s voice is lush and silky as flower petals- and as erotic dragging over your skin. “I had no idea you could sing so sweetly.”

Oberyn slows his pace. “I should not be the only one to have you today, my heart. I wish to hear what songs you make together.”

Oberyn grips your chin in his large hand and turns your face toward the princess. “What do you say, Songbird? Will you eat my wife’s cunt when I’m through with yours?”

You would have agreed to anything as long he brought you back to that dazzling edge, but this was a bargain you’d be happy to fulfill.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Gladly.”

A small smile tilts up Ellaria’s mouth. “I would be most intrigued to experience the talents of this lovely mouth,” she muses. “But perhaps I would rather eat yours, instead. You know how I like to taste you, my prince.”

She direct the last words to her husband, sultry mischief in her dark eyes. Her fingertips dance between your bodies, down, down, to where you are split around him. You jolt at the targeted pressure she places on your clit. 

Oberyn groans, his forehead lowering to your shoulder. “I fear you shall not have long to wait, my love. This cunt is truly divine- it may deserve further worship after all…”

His words trail away, praises only half-formed grunted into your neck. His thrusts speed up again. The two of them on either side of you, commanding your pleasure so sweetly, overwhelms your senses- as do Ellaria’s fingers, pressing precisely where you need.

Your mouth opens in a soundless cry as you tip over the precipice. Oberyn jerks his head up to see, and the gorgeous pleasure-pain contorting your features, your cunt fluttering in time with your body’s convulsions, yanks the prince after you. 

Ellaria watches raptly. Her husband’s long body, muscles rippling as he pistons into another, was a sight she never tired of. Neither was his near-snarl as he climaxed, his body seizing and shuddering in ecstasy.

The prince continues moving until your cries turn to whimpers, and your thighs clamp around his hips. A sinister thought briefly quirks his mouth- if he had not been additionally sated by Ellaria earlier, it would have taken much more effort indeed to slow him. Oberyn is rarely satisfied unless his lovers are all but unable to rise from his bed. 

A good thing then, that a familiar gleam has appeared in his wife’s eye.

As Oberyn lowers himself back down to your side, Ellaria takes his place, her body undulating atop yours like a serpent. The prince watches with lazy satisfaction. Despite both his recent releases, his blood maintains a low simmer at the sight of the two of you, the feminine swells of you squishing and spilling against one another. Like the overflow of cream from a bun, he thinks dreamily. Exactly how he likes his cream- overflowing. Perhaps he will be able to sleep now, and he can request some custard puffs from the kitchens later for a second reenactment…

You have barely caught your breath from Oberyn’s attention when Ellaria steals it again, her tongue slipping against yours in a familiar dance. Unencumbered by gowns this time, you are able to touch all of her, caressing down her spine and lower, marveling at the smoothness of her skin. She sits up slightly, and slickness that's not your own lets her rock easily against your sex.

“You sing too sweetly to release so soon, lovely bird. Have you any urgent appointments today?”

Your gaze falls to the black sash which Oberyn had so carelessly tossed aside. Before you can respond, another knock sounds at the door.

Oberyn lets out a half-hearted snarl. “By all the gods-”

Again fully nude, but appearing even more debauched than when you’d arrived, the prince stalks to the door and flings it open.

“Yes?”

It’s another messenger, although her reaction is very different from yours: she stares rigidly ahead, her voice quavering at the sight of Oberyn’s naked, recently exerted body. 

“My prince, the Maester sent me to look for…” she trails off when she spots you, her eyes flitting to you for a split second when Oberyn shifts impatiently. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, my lord.” She bows her head, her voice going squeaky.

“Tell him I have need of this raven for a special task today. I will answer his missive later.”

Oberyn is closing the door before he’s done speaking. When he turns back to the bed, he finds you with your head thrown back, writhing as Ellaria toys deliberately with your nipples. 

He chuckles. “And you tell me I am the incorrigible one, my love.”

Oberyn burrows languidly into the sheets again, stretching out comfortably by your side. You’re whimpering by now, a furrow in your brow rapidly taking the shape of disbelief. It’s a feeling he knows well. 

“Oh, sweet bird, my wife is a rare talent with her fingers, is she not? We have hardly begun all the things we would do to you…”

Thanks for reading 😘💗

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[grandmother-goblin]

And another thing I kinda miss about Early Access Wyll was one of his implied flaws: his drinking (potentially alcoholism).

There were two scenes in Early Access that kinda pointed out that Wyll might have had a bit of a problem (one of them might still be available in some form, but I haven’t seen it in a while so I’m not sure). Or, at the very least, turned to alcohol when things piled up.

1. The Wyvern Whiskey scene: I LOVED this scene! It was the first time the player got to see Wyll’s Blade of Frontiers mask really crack. Just him, sitting on the ground, drinking really strong booze straight from the bottle. I want to say this scene occurred after either dealing with Fezzrak or Spike, but I can’t remember.

2. The tiefling party: if Tav turns him down romantically, he tells them to go have fun and that he’s got a “tankard keeping him company” (I think there is still some version of this in the game?). Which, on its own, the dialogue doesn’t seem like much, but in combination with the Wyvern Whiskey scene, I was kinda like “uhhhh Wyll? You okay?”

Then, of course, with his idle camp animation where he always had a drink in his hand, it made it kind of easy to assume he might have a little problem.

Idk, I found that part of his character really interesting (maybe because I related to it due to my own experiences) and some part of my brain is still like “yep, when Wyll gets stressed, he goes for the booze”.

Anyways, I loved that Wyll had a really strong, obvious, flaw like that and part of me kind of misses it. I love Full Release Wyll, don’t get me wrong, but I remember the Wyvern Whiskey scene being one of the first things that really made my brain start rotating him around in my head lol.

(This is totally not serious rambling. Ignore meeeeee)

[wellthebardsdead]

Listening to Raphael’s idle dialogue or just his uncanny ability to pop up when needed, or even him breaking the fourth wall and addressing us directly, makes me constantly picture him with loony toons energy.

Like he is aware of the laws of reality, but he simply refuses to acknowledge them. The only laws he cares about are that of the hells.

If you left him alone long enough and he got hungry he would reach behind himself and pull out a still hot skillet and pick up a rock and crack it open like an egg and it would cook perfectly!

He’s always just somewhere in the background of my mind in scenarios being silly because he simply doesn’t care lol. Like my oc is arguing with the group while last light is still on fire from the fight, he just walks into view with a fire extinguisher and puts out his chair before tossing it away and sitting back down.

Even in game if you destroy that very chair in last light he’s sitting in he will sit cross legged on the floor like nothing happened.

He lives like a cartoon character in my brain and I love him for it!

[thedomesticanthropologist]

In game character bodies explained

We all have some issues with the barbie/ken body types but I tried to rationalize it 😂 for fun:

Astarion is ripped because he's literally dehydrated (This is my favorite take, cracks me up)

Halsin isn't chubby right now because the goblins were starving him, and he then goes after the Shadow Curse with extreme fixation and doesn't focus on nourishing himself. In times of peace he gets his Bara bod back

Karlach did not have a wealth of good things surrounding her in avernus. She had to fight every single day and you can see the marks that it left upon her body. She is trim because she has not had any opportunity to put on soft fat, only to build muscle, and her constant movement even when idle is calorie burning. She builds muscle but has no extra due to 10 years of hard training and only basic rations

Gale... I can't excuse it actually that man should have a soft belly, I can't even for one moment believe he would look like his in game model. Sorry lol

[bishopsbeloved]

she’d be with you 💌

lucy gray baird x fem reader

mornings spent with Lucy Gray and the Covey

supposed to be a drabble but got away from me a bit lol, so much fluff, maude ivory’s a little gem, i ❤️ the covey, hayley williams inspired as per, 1.1k words

Even when you can’t find Lucy Gray, you know she won’t have gone far.

You’ll still always frown when you wake to an empty bed, though. Waking in her arms is your favourite way to start the day.

Rays of gentle light stream in through the window. Lucy Gray has arranged little crystalline trinkets on the windowsill which, when caught just right by the sun, send rainbows dancing across the room. That’s how your bedroom looks this morning as you tug on one of Lucy Gray’s blouses and pad barefoot downstairs, into the Covey’s kitchen.

Barb Azure’s sat at the round wooden table, patiently teaching Maude Ivory how to read. She’s been making progress, in fairness. These things just take time.

“Mornin’,” Barb Azure greets you, and then looks to Maude Ivory. “Y’know how to spell that?”

“M-O-R-N-I-N,” Maude Ivory answers proudly.

You laugh softly. “There’s a G on the end o’that, baby.”

“No there ain’t,” she protests, and looks to Barb Azure, who only nods. “Well why’ve you gotta add it if you ain’t even say it?”

“It’s just… there.” Barb Azure pauses. “I don’t know, s’not my language, just write it down.” Maude Ivory reluctantly obliges, grumbling.

“You seen Lu?” you ask Barb Azure, and her lips curl up into a smile.

“You are so predictable—”

“Don’t tease,” you beg, “‘s too early.”

“Alright, alright,” she laughs. “She went out at the ass crack o’dawn with her guitar, I’m guessin’ she’s down at the Meadow.”

“How’d you spell ass? There a Y in there?” Maude Ivory asks curiously.

“Not telling.” Barb Azure turns back to you. “Muffins’re fresh if you want any.”

You hum your appreciation, taking one for yourself and one for Lucy Gray, mindful of how she can forget herself when she’s making music. She gets so absorbed in her songwriting that eating will often slip her mind.

You pad down the grassy path to the Meadow, barefoot and on your tip-toes. The walk is serene, filled only by the idle chatter of Lucy Gray’s mockingjays; the snowdrops lining the route kiss your ankles as you pass them. A rabbit — no, a hare — runs fleetingly across your path, and you smile. A good omen, you know Lucy Gray would say if she was by your side. (No matter what you’re doing, your thoughts are filled with her. She’s so soft, she’s so lovely, she makes your world go round.)

When you reach the Meadow, Lucy Gray is perched on a rock, guitar in hand. She gently plucks away at it, lost in her own melodies, just as you predicted. She’s usually observant without even really trying to be, she’ll often cotton onto events in the room before you, but today she’s so far succumbed to the writing process that you take her by surprise as you approach. A pleasant surprise, you’d wager, seeing how her face breaks into a smile more precious than any jewel you can think of.

“Hi, baby,” she says, her voice still filled with the raspiness the morning brings, and it sends a pleasant little shiver down your spine. “That my blouse?”

You shrug sheepishly. “Smells of you. Woke up alone, I was missin’ you.”

“You’re so cute,” she grins lazily, patting the empty space beside her. “C’mere.”

You oblige happily, settling down next to her. You produce Barb Azure’s muffins from the folds of your skirt and offer one to her.

“Oh, thank you,” Lucy Gray’s eyes light up, “I was starving.”

“Yeah, I figured,” you grin. “What you playing?”

“Oh,” her cheeks turn ever so slightly red, in the way that they only ever do around you. “Uhm, it’s not finished, darlin’, don’t stress it.”

“No, it sounded sweet,” you protest. “Go on, Lu.”

“Well, it’s supposed to be about you,” she admits. The colour of her cheeks only grows more prominent. “Only I can’t get it right.”

“Sounded right to me,” you say gently, “sounded gorgeous, Lu.”

“Yeah, but you’re meant to say that.” Lucy Gray leans in to lovingly nudge her nose into your cheek. “You’re my girl.”

You laugh loudly at that. “Maybe, but you know I’d tell you if you brought a bad song to me. Only reason I haven’t is cause you’ve never done it yet.”

“Yet.” She glowers at you playfully. “Today’s the day, I fear.”

“Enough,” you grumble. “Just play the song, baby. It’s about me, I have a right to hear it.”

She hesitates before ultimately giving in. She can never say no to you, and she was going to play this song for you eventually, only more… polished. She picks up her guitar, slides its capo back onto the fifth fret and begins to play. The melody is gentle and plucked, sweet in a way that’s reminiscent of but not as harsh as honey; it’s a subtle nectar, soft to the ear, soothing to the soul.

There was a bird who never flew,

But she still kept all of her feathers

So she could pluck ‘em out for you

And you could wear them in your hair, and

She’d be with you

Lucy Gray’s voice is hushed, and she trembles ever so slightly, as if the chords are hymns, as if the words are holy. When she’s finished, she looks up at you bashfully, her big brown eyes the warmest pools of love.

“‘S’all I got so far,” she says, “the other verses won’t go together right. Can’t make sense of it.”

“What are you talkin’ on, Lu,” you manage, eyes brimming with tears. “That was— you’re so—”

“Awh, baby,” she laughs, and pulls you into her arms. “You’re real sweet.”

“You’re the sweetest,” you tell her tearfully, and she kisses your forehead.

“I’m bein’ serious, though, I can never properly explain how I feel for you. Not in speech or song or anythin’. You’re the first thing in this life that’s stumped me.” Lucy Gray cradles you closer to her, littering little kisses across your hairline now.

“I think you made a good start,” you sniffle from where you’re nestled against her neck.

“Yeah, but it’s not enough. It won’t ever be enough, y’know? I don’t think there’s words for it.” She pauses. “You feel it too, right?”

“I do,” you confirm, holding her face ever so gently between your palms, “you’re so precious to me I can’t explain.”

“Exactly.” Her fingers trace gentle shapes on the skin of your shoulder. “I’ll keep tryin’ till the day I die, though.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes longer, utterly cocooned in one another, in love in a way that even bards cannot describe. And when you break apart, Lucy Gray Baird begins to thread flowers and feathers into the braids of your hair, and whispers promises that she’ll be with you forever.

[jazzycurls]

You belong to me - part 5.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: It's a surprise 😉🤫

Warnings/Tags: 18+ minors dni! Cheating, angst, hurt & comfort, smut, stalking, and pregnancy (let me know if I missed something)

An: Sorry this took so long you guys, between work and a serious case of writer's block lol... this took way longer than expected. Love you guys, and thank you so much for the support, hope you enjoy ❤

Word Count: 7,613

The ceiling fan circles overhead, emitting a soft hum. Used to the sound by now, Eddie barely notices it as he stares at the cracks forming in his ceiling listlessly. With a heavy sigh, he turns over to check the clock, once again reading the time to be 12:50 in the morning.

You were supposed to have shown up two hours ago. Worry gnaws at him as he chews on his nails. He's called your house numerous times by now to no avail. Not wanting to seem clingy, he held back from racing over to your house after an hour had passed with no word from you.

His telephone rings and he jumps, bumping his knee against the end table. His astray falls to the floor dumping cigarette butts and ashes onto the ground. "Hello!" he yells into the phone.

"Hello to you too handsome," Steve says laughing on the other end.

"Ugh, it's just you. What do you want Harrington, I'm waiting on a call." Holding the phone in between his ear and shoulder, Eddie stoops down to pick up the fallen debris from his astray.

"I just wanted to check in with you. You know, since you've had a stick up your ass lately. I wanted to make sure you were okay," he says, feeling slightly offended at being rushed off the phone.

"I'm okay. Sorry for being an asshole lately. I've just been going through a lot and I took it out on you, sorry for that man." He dumps the ash butts in his hand into the nearby wastebasket, clapping his hands together to dust off the remaining pieces.

"It's okay, no harm no foul." The phone fell silent for a moment before Steve spoke again. "Sooo, who were you waiting to call?" Anyone who knew Steve knew that he could be nosy at times. It was in his nature to want to know everything going on around him, even if it had nothing to do with him.

"Y/n," Eddie replied easily. Unless it was something too personal, he usually didn't mind sharing. He and Steve complimented each other, whereas Steve liked to hear gossip, Eddie tended to overshare sometimes. Though they would never admit it, they often would call each other just to gossip like mother hens.

Steve let out a small hum. "She left work about two hours ago. You sure you didn't miss her call?"

"I'm sure, I've been glued to this spot waiting on her call all night!" Eddie's felt his stomach clench in fear, you should have called by now. Maybe he was jumping the gun but you didn't seem like the type to ghost him.

"Okay, okay, settle down. I'll call Robin and have her go over to her house, I think she lives close to her."

Eddie was already up, pulling on his shoes and jacket. "Fuck that, I can't wait any longer, I'm going to go check myself, thanks." He drops the phone onto his bed not bothering to put it on the receiver, racing out the door and jumping into his van.

It takes him less than 10 minutes to make it to your side of town. Gripping the tattered leather of his steering wheel, he pulls up to the curb in front of your home with a screech. Not bothering to cut the car off as he jumps out of the car, leaving it idling.

His nerves are shot, leaving a jittery feeling in its wake. The windows are dark as he pounds on the front door. After a few minutes pass, he walks around your house, peering into the windows.

He knows that if anyone saw him, they would call the cops with no hesitation. It's the one place he refuses to end up— well that and being stuck in this shit town. But at this moment that was the farthest thing from his mind.

That feeling that something was wrong kept nagging at him and he wouldn't be able to rest until he saw you in person.

After he had walked around your house a few times, he jogged back to the van, hopped into the seat, and began to head toward Family Video. Maybe you had stopped somewhere near your job and had lost track of time or maybe your car had run out of gas and you were stranded.

Countless scenarios run rampant through his mind as his foot pressed down heavily against the gas pedal. The entrance to the trailer park is a blur as he zooms toward the wooded highway. It's a straight shot from your job that would pass by his house on your way home. This road was known for its creepiness at night and he hoped that you weren't stranded on the side of the road somewhere.

Before he could reach the bend up ahead, the flickering of blue lights flashed in his rearview mirror. "Fuck me," he groaned as he reluctantly slowed down and eased to a stop on the side of the road.

Minutes tick by slowly as the officer takes his precious time before stepping out of the vehicle. Eddies lets out an aggravated huff of breath when the officer finally reaches his car.

Letting down his window he greets "something wrong officer?"

The man tips his hat upward revealing himself to be none other than the local town sheriff, Jim Hopper. "Where you going in such a hurry kid?" He places a large calloused hand on top of the roof as he leans through the window, peering around Eddie and looking towards the back of the van.

"I'm looking for someone," Eddie's response is short and clipped. It's not that he doesn't like Jim, to be honest, he liked him as much as he could like an officer of the law. His history with law enforcement was a shaky one. With him being the spitting image of his father and with his extracurricular activities, Eddie felt as if he had been doomed from the start.

With that being said, Jim was the only officer who had judged him on his merit and not his family name. Even though that merit was dead and buried after being busted a few times, he still treated him decent and he was thankful for that.

"Well driving like a bat out of hell won't get you there, it'll only have you in a hospital somewhere or God forbid in a grave. That's the problem with you kids, always rushing off somewhere, never taking time to just relax and enjoy life." Taking a cigarette out of his shirt pocket he quickly lights it and takes a deep inhale before exhaling the smoke into the night air.

"Yes sir," Eddie says in a monotone voice, tiredly rubbing at his eyes. His mind is too wired to focus on what the older man is saying, concern for your well-being is the only thing filling his brain right now.

Jim lets out a sigh at Eddie's response. He takes another drag of his cigarette before flicking it onto the cracked road. His eyes are soft as his gaze settles on Eddie. "Just drive more carefully kid. I don't wanna see another one of you out here tonight, crashed out on the road."

His eyes snap onto Jim's at his words. Ice-cold fear runs through his veins and his hands begin to shake in response. "What are you talking about? Who was out here!" his words are a rushed and jumbled mess as he waits on bated breath for the officer's response.

Jim jumps, startled by Eddie's outburst, before quickly converting back to his usual calm demeanor. "A girl crashed out here earlier," he says shaking his head sadly.

"What was her name," he demands shakily. His thoughts are static as fear takes hold of him, pumping throughout his veins leaving an ice-cold sensation in its wake. 'Please don't be Y/n,' he chants over and over to himself.

"Hmmm. I think it was a young girl last name Y/l/n. Why? Did you know—" His question is cut off abruptly as Eddie quickly puts his car in drive and takes off full speed down the desolate road. "Hey! What the hell," he jumps back from the car. The tire from the van narrowly missing his foot.

Tires screech against the asphalt as Eddie guns it down the highway leaving smoke in his wake. The sound of sirens can be heard behind him but Eddie is no longer in control of his actions. His body is on autopilot, tears streaming down his face as he heads toward the hospital. He's praying, something he hasn't done in a long time that it's not you. Hoping that Hopper had it wrong and that it was someone else. Not you, anyone but you.

He doesn't know how he makes it to the hospital in one piece but he does. Parking in front of the entrance he runs through the entrance at full speed. Unable to come to a stop, his body slams into the front desk, startling the old lady seated there.

She gasps loudly, holding her chest in shock. As her nerves begin to settle she pushes her wire-rimmed glasses up her nose with a pointed look at the young man in front of her. "Can I help you?" she asks cautiously. Sometimes strange people come into the hospital and she's usually the first person they come into contact with, so she's always careful of her interactions with people.

"Y/n L/n! Where is she? I need to see her!" His words tumble out of his mouth breathlessly.

Taking a quick look at the computer screen in front of her, she glances back at Eddie. "Are you a member of the family? I can't give out information if—,"

"Yeah! I'm her family, now where the fuck is she!" he shouts slamming his palm against the counter, attracting the attention of the people seated in the lobby.

"Sir, p-please, calm down and give me a moment so I can find her room number, okay?" Turning towards the computer, she quickly taps away on her keyboard, the glare from the screen reflecting off of her glasses. "3rd-floor, room 211 but you can't—," she trails off as Eddie takes off sprinting towards the elevators.

"Kids these days," she mutters to herself. With a shake of her head, she lets out a shaky breath before turning back to the magazine in front of her.

Unable to wait for the elevator, Eddie takes the stairs, reaching the 3rd floor in seconds. Bursting through the heavy metal door, he glances at the numbered halls as he skirts around the visitors and staff walking the halls.

Soon, he's at your door and he comes to a complete stop, unable to move any further. The chart on the door has your name on it, solidifying that you are indeed in the room.

Not giving himself time to think about it, he pushes the door open. Tears spring to his eyes as he takes in your small frame layered underneath the thin blankets. Shuffling forward he stops at your bedside and takes your hand into his. His gaze takes in the numerous dark bruises marking your swollen features.

"Y/n?" his voice is small, a sharp contrast to his usual boisterous tone. There's no response, only the steady beeps of the machines echoing loudly throughout the room. A choked cry breaks out as he hangs his head down, bending over the rail closer to you as the enormity of the situation hits him. Hot tears run down his face, dropping down onto the white hospital blankets.

He squeezes your hand, trying to find that sense of comfort that being around you normally brings. Your hand is cold to the touch, lying limp within his own. Your body doesn't react as he massages the palm of your hand tenderly.

Regret sits in the pit of his stomach as he thinks about all the time he wasted not being with you, not getting to know you better. He swallows thickly at the raw emotion flowing through him. He hasn't felt a pain like this ever since his mom died and even then he was too young to even process it, choosing to just accept that she was gone and never coming back.

He should've never gotten with Chrissy. He wishes he hadn't been a coward back then and had asked you out before you had moved away. It seems like as soon as you guys stood a chance at being together, life would come, and fuck it all up.

There's a knock at the door bringing him out of his thoughts. After a pause, the door opens and a middle-aged man enters, closing the door behind him. "Hello, I'm Dr. Raymond. Are you the patient's family?"

"Yes, I'm Eddie— her boyfriend," he states with a firm tone. His hands come up and wipe away the fresh tears steadily falling, uncaring that a stranger is seeing him in such a vulnerable state.

The doctor pauses for a moment, taking in the young man's words before continuing. Usually, they would only give information to immediate family but something tells him that the person in front of him wouldn't take that decision lightly.

Looking at his clipboard he starts rambling off medical terms, gesturing towards you briefly. Eddie stands there in confusion, not understanding a single thing he's said.

The doctor looks up in midspeech, realizing that he isn't following. "I'm sorry," he says with a small smile. "Sometimes I forget how hard it can be to understand all of this."

Eddie shakes his head in agreeance and the doctor continues. "Simply put, Y/n has suffered a severe traumatic brain injury. You've probably noticed that she hasn't responded to you being here right? The reason is that at this moment, she is unresponsive. When an injury damages specific parts of the brain, the nervous system sometimes doesn't send normal signals to the body. This can cause a person to fall into a coma." He stops, allowing Eddie to process the information he's given.

Putting on a brave face, he struggles to hold back the emotions threatening to break free. "So does this mean that she's not going to wake up?"

"We're not giving up yet. There's a possibility that she could wake up. However, there's also a chance she might not wake up."

His heart soars at the idea that there's a chance you could wake up. Refusing to think anything differently. "What can I do to help," he asks desperately. If he could do anything to help you, he would definitely do it, no questions asked.

The doctor smiles warmly at the sincere look plastered across Eddie's face. "The most important thing you can do is just be here for her. You can talk or read to her, believe it or not, it helps."

With a surge of hope, Eddie nods in confirmation, looking back over at you with a soft look. "I can do that. If there's one thing I'm good at— it's talking," he replied with a humorless laugh.

The doctor patted him on the shoulder before turning around to head out of the room. He stopped before the door, turning on his heel suddenly. "Gosh, I almost forgot," he says with a smack to his forehead.

"What's wrong?" Eddie's nerves instantly shoot back up at the doctor's words.

"That's the point," he says as Eddie stares at him in confusion. "The baby I mean— the baby's just fine. Although it's still early, it appears your little one will be just fine." His pager goes off and he darts out the door not waiting for a response.

"Baby?" He looks over at you in bewilderment. He stumbles, catching his fall by holding onto the wall for support. His air intake is limited as his breathing comes in deep harsh gasps. His vision begins to swim, and not wanting to pass out near you, he takes a step away from you towards a chair, before crashing onto the ground.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Eddie woke up with a low groan, blinking up at the harsh lights above him. He yells your name, sitting up with a jolt as his memories come rushing back all at once. Looking around the room he notices that he's in an entirely different room than before.

He tries to get up when he realizes that he's cuffed to the bed. "What the fuck? Hey! Let me out here! Heyyyy!!!" Panic quickly rises in him with his sudden predicament. He doesn't know what he did to get handcuffed to the bed and he doesn't care. The only thing that matters is you and the fact that these stupid cuffs are keeping him from you right now.

He yells again as he yanks on the cuffs, causing the metal to bite painfully into his wrist. Just as he's about to start up again the door swings open and enters Hopper.

"Fuuuck," Eddie moans throwing his head back onto the pillow.

"Fuck is right," Hopper quips, walking over to the wall and leaning against it.

"I don't have time for this. Y/n needs me!" Tears of frustration begin to slip out the corners of his eyes.

"She's okay— I checked on her after you fainted." Hopper's gaze is steady as he stares at Eddie under the perch of his hat.

"I did not faint," Eddie grits out harshly.

"Sure kid— whatever you say. So, you mind telling me why you ran off like that huh?"

Letting out a sigh Eddie explains who you are to him and how that was the reason why he had reacted toward Hopper last night.

Hopper stood silently, taking everything in as he waited for him to finish. Once he was done he stood still for a moment in contemplation. Never taking his eyes off of Eddie he pushed away from the wall, walking over to Eddie on the bed.

Eddie's eyes are wide as he watches Hopper dig a set of keys from his pocket and unlock his cuffs. Rubbing the bruised flesh on his wrist he hurriedly got up from the bed, making his way over to the door.

"Hey kid," Hopper calls out and Eddie stops in his tracks. "Drive safer next time. You won't do anyone any good if you're laid up in a hospital too."

Nodding his head, he throws a grateful look his way before slipping out the door. In no time he's back in front of your room. He takes a deep breath to steady the flutter of nerves in his stomach. The news of you being in a coma and on top of that you were pregnant had left him in a stupor.

He knew without a doubt that it was his. That must have been the news you wanted to share with him last night. A fresh wave of guilt sets in at the thought of you crashing because you were hurrying to get back and tell him. You had to be at least two months now. He wondered how long you'd known and why you hadn't told him sooner. You must have been so scared of how he would react.

He shook his head, causing his curls to swing wildly. It didn't matter why you didn't tell him, the only thing he cared about right now was you and his baby's health.

With another deep breath, he opens the door to your room, entering silently. An older woman sits near your bed with her head resting in your lap as she wept silently. He stood near the door, not sure what to do next. Her head popped up at the sound of the door clicking shut.

'This must be your mom,' he thought to himself as she looked up at him in confusion. "Can I help you?" She croaked, clearing her throat as she wiped away the tears coating her cheeks.

"Hi— um I'm Eddie. Eddie Munson, I'm Y/n's boyfriend." He knows that you would give him the side eye at the self-appointed title he had given himself but he panicked! He couldn't say you guys were two people who used to fuck each other and that he had fallen in love with you but he wasn't sure if you even felt the same. Shifting from foot to foot he stood nervously waiting for her to respond.

After what felt like an eternity she finally responds "Hello, I'm Y/m/n. I'm sorry but you're her boyfriend? I've never met you," she replied with a soft sniff.

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly "Yeah, our relationship is kinda new?" His eyes drift over to you and he couldn't help but move closer to you towards the other side of the bed.

She watches him as he carefully takes ahold of your hand, his thumb stroking your knuckles soothingly. The care shown in his movements and the sincerity in his eyes has her deciding right then and there that she liked him. However, she didn't like secrets and she wouldn't make it easy on him.

A knock at the door sounds off abruptly,  causing both heads to turn toward the source of the noise. The door opens and in walks the doctor from yesterday.

"Hello, good morning," he says looking over at Eddie. Turning towards your mom he extends his hand to her "Hi, I'm Dr. Raymond."

"Hello, I'm Y/m/n and L/n, Y/n's mother." She takes his hand and shakes it briefly before dropping it back into her lap. Her hands grip the small pocketbook on her lap nervously as she casts a glance at you. "Doctor give it to me straight. Why is my little girl not waking up?"

He proceeds to explain the same thing that he told Eddie yesterday. That you were in a coma and had sustained severe head trauma but that you had responded well to some of their tests, so they still had hope that you could pull through this. "Mrs. Y/m/n, the best thing to do is, be here for her and let her know that you're here for her. Also, as the pregnancy progresses you can speak to the little one as well. Studies have shown that the fetus responds positively to music and even talking."

"I'm sorry, did you say pregnancy," she whispers, cutting her eyes over to Eddie as he shifts uncomfortably under her cold gaze.

The doctor also begins to get nervous as he notices the shift in her demeanor. "Yes— um, your daughter here is about 9 weeks gestation. The baby is perfectly healthy from what we've seen so far but we'll make sure to keep an eye out for any complications due to your daughter's condition."

Sweat begins to trickle down the nape of Eddie's neck. This was not how he envisioned meeting your mom. He's glad that looks can't kill because if they could he'd be a goner.

"Did you know about this Mr. Munson?" Her stern eyes were locked on his, refusing to allow him to look away.

"No ma'am, I just found out yesterday," he replies with a grimace as he rubs the back of his tender head. "Kinda took me by surprise too."

Pinching the bridge of her nose with a tired sigh, she takes a moment to collect her thoughts. Not only did she just find out that her daughter was in a coma from a car crash but she was also pregnant! She wants to be mad but knows it's not the time or the place. "It's okay— I'm not mad. I'm just surprised is all," she replies a moment later.

"Ma'am, I plan on being here for Y/n and the baby every step of the way," Eddie states firmly,  doing his best to assure her.

"Oh, I know you will, Eddie. I wouldn't allow it any other way." Her tone is icy as a chilling smile settles across her face. "I guess we'll be getting to know each other very well, huh?"

A shiver runs down his back at her words. Nodding his head in agreeance he looks at the doctor who took that as his cue to speak again. Even though he had meant well, sometimes he couldn't read a room and had caused many uncomfortable situations. Clearing his throat he began to explain the next steps moving forward.

All issues pushed aside, momentarily, Eddie and your mom sat silently as they listened to the doctor explain the pending surgeries, treatments, and overall care needed for you and your baby. This was going to be a rough journey and Eddie was determined to be here for you every step of the way.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

Eddie hums quietly to himself as he walks briskly up the flight of steps. A habit he's formed over the past few months of taking the stairs to your room other than the elevator. It was just something about being trapped in a confined space that irritated him so he always chose the stairs instead. He had written you a song and couldn't wait to sing it for you.

To be honest he still hasn't really adjusted to you being unresponsive but he still comes to see you every day after school. Some days he comes late at night after work and would just spend the night, sleeping on the small pull-out couch in your room.

On those days when he had to work or had DND, Robin, Steve, or your best friend would come in his place until he was able to get there. It had become sort of a routine, to the point where they had memorized each other's weekly schedules. You had a great support system and he was forever grateful to them for the help they had given him and you.

In no time he makes it to your floor, giving brief nods to somewhat familiar faces along the way. This floor is for long-term care and most of the people who frequent here, have been here for just as long if not longer than you.

Holding the fresh set of flowers against his chest, he opens the door to your room. There you are laying peacefully in your bed. The bruises that coated your face have long since faded leaving a small scar running through your eyebrow.

Eddie was the first to notice the mark, he had commented to your mom how the scar resembled a lightning bolt and how metal that was. After switching the flowers out in the vase on the table with the fresh ones, he quickly crosses the room to you.

"Hey sweet thing," he greets you with a soft kiss. His lips linger on yours as he feels a faint twitch as your body responds to his touch. The first time that happened he had shouted for joy, causing the staff to come barreling through the doors at the commotion.

After examining you and Eddie to make sure he hadn't lost his mind. They had explained to him that sometimes your body would react to certain things and not get his hopes up. Eddie, however, knew that was bullshit, he knew that deep down, wherever your mind was, it was calling out to him and whenever he touched you he hoped that it was bringing you closer to him. So whenever he visited you he would talk to you while brushing your hair or he would sing to you as he massaged your limbs.

His gaze travels down your body stopping at the growing swell of your belly. Pressing his ear against your stomach he places his hand on your lower belly massaging gently. "Daddy's here," he says as he taps rhythmically against your skin covered by the thin blanket.

A sharp kick pushes against his hand in response and he grins "I missed you too angel." Your leg jerks at the movement causing his eyes to turn back toward you. "I think mommy's tired today, so take it easy on her okay?" He presses a sweet kiss to your stomach before turning his attention back to you.

With a smile, he goes through his usual routine of telling you about his day. He sings to you as he rubs your favorite lotion onto your arms and legs, pausing when he sees the subtle shift of your stomach causing your eyelids to flutter. You look so peaceful that he sometimes thinks that you're just playing a joke on everyone and will wake up at any moment.

A sad sigh escapes and he shakes his head in an attempt to war off the negative thoughts. He mentally shakes it off, refusing to think that you won't wake up.

Cuddling up in bed next to you, his legs bent slightly at the knees as his journal rests in his lap. His tongue rests on his top lip as he jots down some new ideas for his campaign. The first time he had climbed into bed with you, he was scolded something furious by your mom and the nurses. They told him that there was simply not enough room to hold the both of you without putting your safety in jeopardy, something Eddie had quickly debunked as he slipped in beside your small frame without disturbing your peace.

The doc was the one who had gone to bat for him, explaining that it might help you to have his presence as close as possible. So by your side was where he laid, unless your mom or dad was there and out of respect, he usually took the seat by your bed instead. Your mom and him had gotten close over the past six months, bonding over the gravity of your situation. Your dad showed up every blue moon, never sticking around long enough for Eddie to get to know him. He imagined that was a song and dance that your dad had perfected throughout your life, never being around to form an actual connection with his loved ones.

A knock at the door snapped him from his thoughts. Pressing a kiss to your cheek, he slips from the bed, making his way to the door. Whoever was knocking had to be someone who didn't visit often. Most of the regular visitors would knock and just come on in. He wondered briefly who it could be before opening the door.

Surprise spread quickly across his face at the sight of Chrissy standing there with a bouquet of flowers in hand. "Hi Eddie," she whispers, trying to sneak a look behind him into the room.

Not wanting to let her in just yet, he stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. "Chrissy," he replied, glancing at the flowers she held nervously in her grasp.

"How have you been?" she asks cautiously. They hadn't spoken ever since that day in the gym. Whenever she would try and speak to him at school, he would blatantly ignore everything.

"What are you doing here Chrissy?" His tone was short, not in the mood to play any of her mind games.

Taken aback, she pauses, before giving him a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I just wanted to check on you and Y/n of course," she adds quickly. "I think it's honorable how you come here every day to visit her."

"There's nowhere else I would rather be," he replies, shrugging his shoulders in response.

Silence ensues as she struggles to come up with something to say. Conversation use to come easy with Eddie and now it's as if they were strangers. Ever since you came along he had all but cast her aside to be with you. The thought still burned her up inside and she wanted nothing more than to go into that room and finish what she had started.

"Well, thank you for coming but Y/n isn't accepting any visitors at this time." Done with the conversation he steps back towards the door putting his hand on the knob.

"Eddie please I— I know that we aren't on the best of terms but I do care," a small smile sits across her face as she holds his gaze imploringly.

His instincts are screaming not to let her in but he can't help but feel that maybe you would want to make amends with Chrissy. Throwing his head back with a loud groan he mutters a short "sure" before turning on his heel, back towards the room. Before he can even step over the threshold, his name is called down the hall.

It's one of the friendly nurses at the nurse's station. They look out for him by letting him pick whatever he wants from the Cafe menu at no charge. His dedication and loyalty to you is something that has caused most of the staff to treat him kindly, despite the usual treatment he receives from his outward appearance.

Glancing back at Chrissy whose hands are held behind her back with the flowers crushed between them. A worried look flashes across his face as he halts mid-step.  

"It's okay, we'll be fine." She says sweetly, crossing her fingers behind her.

"I'll be back, kay?" He gives her a long and wary look before turning and making the trek down the hall.

As soon as his back is turned, the smile drops from her face, replaced with a sinister sneer. Gripping the knob she twists it, causing the door to open. Slipping inside the room, she shuts the door softly and scoffs at her behavior. She doesn't know why she's being so cautious, it's not like you would wake up from the sudden noise.

She cackles at the thought that you might not ever wake up, taking pride in her handiwork, before covering her mouth to stifle the giggles. You might not be conscious to hear her but that doesn't mean nobody else could.

She takes a minute to catch her breath before stalking over to you. The flowers hang limply by her side as she observes your current state. Your face is pale but still somehow holds a natural glow. It's obvious that someone has been taking good care of your appearance for you and the thought of it being Eddie sickens her. Her eyes travel from your face until they stop at the swell of your stomach.

Hot anger pulses through her at the sight of your baby bump. Although the thought of having kids this young didn't appeal to her, the knowledge that you were pregnant with his child made her green with envy.

Taking a step closer to you she rests her hand on your stomach, snatching it back quickly at the sudden movement she feels beneath her hand. The silence of the room presses against her as she's suddenly filled with the urge to end you, once and for all. She's sure that with you gone, her life can return back to normal. Hopeful that these negative feelings threatening to overwhelm her would be gone, once and for all.

She hasn't ever stopped to think that the foreign feelings she constantly feels may be the result of something much deeper than the feud between you two.

Placing one hand on the oxygen tube near your nose, she pinches it, cutting off the flow of circulation. The beeps of the machines start to rise as your heart rate accelerates steadily. She can see a slight movement beneath the lids of your eyes but other than that, you still show no signs of reaction.

She begins to wonder just how long this will take when a series of noises begin to sound off as the machines send off alerts of your distress. Your heart rate is dropping and before she can take joy in that, she hears footsteps running down the hall towards the room. She keeps ahold of the tube, wanting to be sure this time, when she sees a dark wet spot spreading over the blankets where your hips lay.

Before she could get a grasp on what that even meant, the door swung open, slamming into the wall behind it with a loud smack. Yanking her hand back she looks behind her to find Eddie glaring at her with an accusatory stare.

"What the hell did you do!" he shouts as he rushes to your side, knocking Chrissy out of the way.

"Nothing! I was just standing here!" she yells back. She drops her gaze at the intensity of his eyes on her, while creeping towards the door.  

A flood of medical staff fills the room and just as she is about to make her exit, her eyes meet Eddie's. His eyes are dark and cold, filled with silent rage as he stares her down. He doesn't know what happened but he's willing to bet that whatever it was had been Chrissy's fault.

She leaves the room not turning back. "Good riddance," Eddie thinks as he turns back towards you. Concern and worry are etched deep into his face as Doctor Raymond and several nurses check your vitals.

One nurse takes note of the wet spot on the bed, mentioning it aloud to the doctor. Eddie looks on, feeling helpless as he watches the doctor take his place at the end of the bed, lifting the sheet. He mentions something about checking a cervix but he has no clue what that means.

With a sense of urgency, the doctor begins firing off orders sending the nurses scrambling. "Doc! What the hell is going on?? What'd happening??!!" Eddie's hand holds onto yours tightly but is still delicate in a sense. It gives him a small sense of peace as he tries desperately not to freak out.

"She's dilating and I believe she's having contractions which would explain the spikes in her heart rate. Plus her water broke which is always a sign that the baby is coming," he answers while scooting past Eddie, to maneuver the bed, causing you to sit up slightly.

"But I'm not— I mean, they're not ready yet. She's only 8 months and she still isn't awake yet," he yells, grasping the lapels of the doctor's coat with his free hand. His eyes are big and wet as he struggles to keep ahold of his emotions.

The doctor's look is one of pity as he stops what he is doing to try and calm the young man down. "The baby is coming whether we want her to or not. Be strong you got this." He sets his hands atop Eddie's shoulders giving them a firm squeeze.

"But what about Y/n? Will she be okay," he asks in a small voice, sick with the thought of what this is doing to you.

Uncertainty is written across the man's face. "I'm not sure, medically speaking this could cause even more trauma to her body." He turns back towards you as the nurses begin to prep you for delivery. "But off the record, I believe that Y/n is strong enough to overcome this. She's made great progress over the last couple of months."

His words quell the fear coursing through him and with a look of resolve he grips your hand firmly with his. He whispers words of praise into your ears, praying that you can hear him. Soon your mom hurries into the room, taking her place on the other side of the bed. Your best friend and dad sit in the waiting room as your body attempts to deliver your baby naturally.

Hours pass as the team of doctors and nurses oversee the delivery, while also staying out of the way to not overcrowd the room. Eddie stands in the same spot, not having moved an inch since everything started. Not trusting that something terrible won't happen as soon as he leaves.

He takes a small towel handed to him by a nurse as he wipes the thin layer of sweat coating your brow. "Doing so good baby," he says, pressing a small kiss between your brow.

The high pitch beeping of monitors takes his attention from you towards the foot of the bed where the doctor sits perched on a stool. "Alright everyone, it's showtime." His head disappears underneath the high tent of the sheet where your legs sit perched with the assistance of your mom and a nurse.

His heart thunders in his ears as he waits on bated breath. A small twitch against his hand catches his attention immediately. He whips his head towards you, noting the faint look of pain on your face. If he hadn't spent the past few months staring at you incessantly, he wouldn't have caught it.

"Sweetheart— can you hear me?" He says, feeling small petals of hope bloom in his chest. He signals to your mom who looks at you with a hopeful expression.

The look of distress grows deeper and deeper until finally, a tiny cry fills the room suddenly. Eddie's gaze snaps towards the sound as he sees the doctor hand off a small bundle to the nurse, who rushes off to a small station to clean the baby off and suction out any fluid from the baby's airways.

At that moment a loud hoarse cry fills the room, bouncing off of the walls, and sending echoes down the hall. All eyes are on you as your eyes spring open.

"Baby!" Eddie says in a soft voice filled with joy. He doesn't want to scare you with any loud noises but he can't help the onslaught of feelings coursing through him right now. His eyes begin to water as his emotions began to get the better of him. Your eyes meet his and it feels as if a piece of him falls back into place.

"Who are you?" you ask as tears leak out the corners of your eyes.

Dread fills Eddie from head to toe as he realizes that you don't recognize him. You try and snatch your hand away from his but your body is too weak to do so. Eddie knows he should give you space but he can't bring his body to cooperate.

Your mom speaks up, laying a kiss on your forehead "Hi sweetie, mommy's here and so is Eddie." Her eyes flit over to Eddie's with a look of pity as you don't react to his name.

The nurse appears at Eddie's side with a small bundle wrapped in a pink and white blanket. "Here you go dad," she says with a small smile.

The frown on his face is replaced with one of adoration as he stares at the baby lying in his arms. Any doubts he may have had are quickly dispelled at the sight of his daughter. Black curls peek out from under the pink-striped hat on her head. Deep brown eyes stare curiously back at him as he looks at her in awe. She's a perfect mix of you both, the best parts of both of you.

"Hey princess, I'm your daddy, and this is your mommy," he says in a sweet tone. Eddie turns toward you and his eyes meet yours again. Uncertainty clouds your eyes as you look from him to the baby in his arms.

You don't know what's going on but something inside you tells you that this is right. That this is your family, even if you can't remember the strange man in front of you or the fact that you had been pregnant. "Can— can I hold her?" you wince at the strain the words have on your throat.

"Of course sweet— I mean Y/n." Eddie catches himself before the pet name falls from his lips. He leans over you slightly as he places her into your arms gently.

His fingers rub against your arms softly as he moves away and it feels as if lightning is coursing through you. You ignore it for now and focus on the baby lying against you. Her eyes are big and brown, an exact copy of the boy next to you. Warmth spreads in your chest as a feeling of love begins to overwhelm you.

Eddie looks at you both with tears streaming down his cheeks. He feels a slew of emotions, the main ones are a sense of joy and sorrow at the irony of it all. He had prayed every night for you to wake up and when you did, the fact that you didn't remember him anymore hurt worse than when you were in the coma. At least then he had hope that you two could be together again someday but now that seemed impossible.

He looks over to you again and your eyes meet. You stare into his eyes, holding his gaze with a small smile painted across your lips. He feels so much love for you at that moment and although he may not know what tomorrow will bring, he knows for sure that he will never leave your side again, no matter what. He vows that he will do whatever it takes to protect you both.

Taglist: @bibieddiesgf @tlclick73 @seventhlevelofhell @emmysuebull22 @adequate-superstar @vintagehellfire @sidthedollface2 @blue-eyed-lion @hazydespair @fly-on-the-wall @nicolaj1978 @sinczir @starrywhitenight @merciiss @hanahkatexo @kellysimagines @hargrovesswifee @simp4rengoku @igglepiggle22 @isimpforeveryonee @urdad-hot @thikkiesixx @billyhargrovesfuturewife @sammararaven @yogizzz @micheledawn1975 @munsonenthisiast @kissmejoey @klea221 @ms1oftheboys @whoahoney @foreveranexpatsposts @maysrains @alanamarie @emmalee-01 @kaitebugg03 @angel-jz @hereforshmut

[octomae]

Goggles and Rider with the prompt: "You can admit you're hurting, you know? It's okay to not be okay."

GORAI <3 as a note, i think the way i write goggles is... different than how people usually write him? mine is more down to earth so uh. lol, be aware of that.

-

He found Rider sitting on the railings outside the Squid Sisters' studio, up on the second floor viewing platform in the plaza.

It was overcast and hazy grey. It was supposed to rain, and most inkfish weren't willing to risk being caught outside. The few who remained outside walked around with umbrellas hooked over their arms. When Goggles stopped to look, Rider didn't have one.

"Hey Rider," Goggles greeted as he drew closer, offering a small smile. Without waiting for a response, he sat down on the platform, letting his legs hang freely off the side of it and resting his arms on the railings Rider was sitting on. "We missed you in turf today."

Rider grunted, but said nothing. He wasn't a talkative person by any means, but he always had at least something to say. The silence now felt wrong.

Goggles looked up at him, taking in the sight of him. Rider wouldn't even look at him, and wasn't even making any efforts to be his usual standoffish self. He just looked upset, in a way that only he could be.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Goggles asked.

Rider huffed out a deep sigh from his nose, and finally, turned his head to look down at Goggles.

"Nothing to talk about," he said, a terse edge in his voice.

Goggles stayed silent at that, looking out over Inkopolis plaza. He wouldn't hesitate to be his usual silly self if Rider wasn't so off. Somehow, he knew acting like everything was fine would serve to tip this delicate situation into something worse.

"That's okay," he said instead. "I can just... stay here with you."

"Do what you want," Rider grumbled, which was about as close to a yes as he was going to get.

Goggles smiled again, scooting a little closer and resting his chin on the fold of his arms. He let his feet swing idle and free over the edge of the platform and gazed down at the plaza. There was hardly an inkfish in sight by now, which probably meant it was going to rain soon. Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he checked the forecast.

"It's about to storm," he said, pocketing his phone and lifting his head. "Specs told me it would before I left home this morning but I forgot so I didn't bring an umbrella."

Rider grunted again, and said nothing.

"Hey," Goggles said, scooting closer again. Gently, he nudged his head against Rider's leg. "If something's hurting you, I won't judge. It's okay to not be okay."

Rider lifted his head to look down at Goggles again. The stoic expression on his face was cracking, but Goggles didn't point it out.

"Just... had a shitty morning," Rider finally said, his voice quiet. "Didn't feel like being around a lot of other people after that."

Goggles nodded, but didn't press for any more details. Instead, he let his head rest against Rider's leg, staring down at the plaza. "I get it. We all have bad days. But, I've always got my friends to get me through it, because I know they care more about me being okay than anything else."

"You suck at being subtle," Rider said, and Goggles shocked himself with a laugh. The yellow-green inkling huffed out a sound that might have been amused, shaking his head. "I'm surprised you even tried."

"Well, I thought you wouldn't like it if I just said stuff the way I normally do," Goggles protested, still giggling despite everything. "I can be blunt if you want."

"I thought being blunt was the only thing you knew how to do," Rider said dryly, and Goggles laughed harder.

"Sorry," the blue inkling wheezed, wiping at his eyes and grinning up at Rider. "I just care about you a lot."

Rider's face twisted up into something funny, and he quickly turned his face away. Goggles had already seen the yellow-green tint in his dark cheeks, though.

"I care about you," Goggles nearly sang, and watched the pointed tips of Rider's ears turn that same yellow-green color too. He nudged the other inkling with a grin and a giggle. "And I'm totally here for you if you're ever feeling not okay."

Rider sighed, lifting a hand to rub at his cheek. He still wasn't looking at Goggles, but Goggles could imagine the flustered expression on his face.

"Thanks," Rider murmured, the tension in his shoulders fading away. He didn't say anything else, but this time, the silence felt right.

Goggles pulled himself up to stand, offering a hand to Rider. "C'mon, we should probably get inside somewhere before it starts raining."

The yellow-green inkling looked at him, a tint of ink lingering in his cheeks. It made the hearts in Goggles' chest flutter.

Rider reached out.