#to be entirely honest i have made more small bits with him in the meantime and i have lots of bigger projects in mind with him but

[rox-of-iu]

Hey, just felt called to let you know that your MQF from SVSSS doodles give me such life and inspired how I write MQF in my fics. I love how you depict him and your art style is so refreshing and cute!

Just thought you should know. Hope you have a good day!

HELLO HI THANK YOU SO MUCH??? 😭😭😭💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜 GLAD TO BE OF SERVICE HAVE A FANTASTIC DAY OR NIGHT

[miralines]

I do not have the time or bandwidth to write a proper fic of this and there’s only like a 25% chance I ever will, but I keep thinking about a Cinderrose arranged marriage au and am finally posting about it for @mechtober-2024!

I’m thinking it happens as like. Part of a peace deal to end the war between Perrault and Cole’s empire. Cinders volunteers herself to make a marriage alliance in exchange for Perrault retaining more autonomy and freedom than they do in the canon timeline when they lose the war entirely. It’s her idea, a last-ditch effort to save her people, and her father finally agrees to allow it when it’s clear it’s their last chance.

The negotiations are made and Cinders is set to marry Rose Prince, a rising star in Cole’s army and the second daughter of His most noble family. From Rose’s end, this looks like Cole calling her to a meeting and informing her of this new honor. Rose isn’t thrilled with the idea, not least because of all the politics involved, but she’s nothing if not obedient to him. She knows her duty and has never refused his will before, and she won’t start now. So even as she complains to Snow, she agrees to marry the foreign princess.

Cinders is brought to Zantine to move into a guest suite of the Prince family estate, where she’ll live until the wedding in a few months’ time (it takes a while to prepare a celebration befitting the occasion). She’s an anxious wreck– away from home for the first time, stuck in the heart of her enemy’s power, and if she can’t follow through perfectly on this deal her father and all her people will pay the price. At least she’s away from her stepfamily.

The first time she and Rose meet in person is awkward. Rose is determined to be a gentleman about the whole thing, but she doesn’t know this woman or how she’s meant to interact with her in this context. Cinders is approaching it with gritted teeth and a barely-hidden air of self-sacrifice. They make small talk, try to get to know each other.

Both of them are pleasantly surprised by the other. Rose, despite being a tool in Cole’s hands to violently enforce His will, is respectful to Cinders, honest and gentle, and, in a turn of events Cinders has very mixed feelings about, the kind of woman who is exactly her type. Rose appreciates Cinders’ love for her people and her courage in coming here, and is intrigued by the hints of her true personality she lets through under the diplomatic mask. They both have a strong sense of duty and justice, even if it’s to opposite causes, and both have an appreciation for space– Cinders because of her enchantment with the stars and Rose through her hobby of driving and racing ships.

Right off the bat, Rose makes clear that they don’t have to be married in anything but name if Cinders doesn’t want it. They’ll be expected to live together, but Rose won’t touch Cinders without her consent. They quickly establish that they’re on the same page with their union being a business transaction, political theater. They’ll do what they must and try to stand each other in the meantime.

Cinders is still deeply unsure of Rose as a person, especially as she learns more about her career and the atrocities she’s committed in Cole’s name. And Rose remains privately a bit bitter about being pulled into a political scheme. But they get along well enough when they put the issue of the Empire aside (and they have to, both for personal and political reasons. Cinders is marrying into the Empire, and if they want this marriage to work in any way they can’t fight constantly). Rose takes Cinders on day trips in her personal spaceship, and Cinders shares music with Rose. They get closer.

I don’t think they would fall in love by the wedding– I picture this as a slow burn. Before they can fully enter a romantic relationship, Rose needs to learn that the cause she fights for and the tactics she uses aren’t as noble as she thinks, and Cinders needs to figure out how to live with Rose’s past acts and her position in the Empire. They’d need to compromise a great deal. But eventually, of course, they realize they do love each other and become romantic partners as well as wives.

I don’t know what happens next– their relationship would be a bit strained as long as they’re under Cole’s thumb. They also both have a lot of trauma to work through— Cinders from the war and her stepmother’s abuse, and Rose from the army. Rose would have to kick her rapidly-forming dependence on alcohol.

Perhaps Rose quits the army in this AU and Cinders works with Snow in parliament to secretly work against the worst of Cole’s power. Perhaps Cinders and Rose eventually run away together. Whatever happens I think would be delicious– there’s so much you can do with them in this context.

In conclusion. Cinderrose arranged marriage au my beloved <3

[outercrasis]

💀+🚁

Pairing: Frank Castle x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Word Count/Rating: 1k / EXPLICIT 18+

Warnings: PWP, M/F M/M dynamics, unprotected sex, double vaginal penetration, oral (f!receiving), handjob, praise kink

A/N: This is all due to @honest-shite (@honestly-shite) sending me an ask that haunted me about both of these men and how generous they would be with you. I stared at this ask for so long that I know without a doubt those are the gifs that were sent with the original ask. Also I can't come up with a proper title for this so emojis it is (although I did name the google doc Maia's Torment, so that could be an alt title). I'm sorry this hellsite is a nightmare, I hope this filth can distract you for a bit in the meantime wife😘

"Ffuuuck- Frank, please," you beg, toes curling.

You can feel Frank's chuckle rumble against your back. "Which one of us, darlin'?"

You don't know how to answer that. They seem to be in sync, working together to push you to your limit. Clarifying is pointless and you all know it.

Frankie towers over you both, relentlessly pushing every thick inch of him into you. His hands grasp at Frank's shoulder and your hip for stability. In mind-numbing contrast, Frank is barely moving beneath you, occasionally giving a lazy thrust for some extra friction. It's tight with them both claiming your pussy and somewhere in the back of your mind you're still shocked they both fit.

Then again, Fish had made sure they would, eating you out until he was confident you were wet enough. Frank had occupied his teasing mouth and rough hands with your tits, just to help things along. Those same hands are now gripping your trembling thighs, holding you open wide while the two men make a mess of you.

"Eyes on me, hermosa," Frankie demands from above you.

It's difficult, but you manage to peel your eyes open. Your head remains tilted back on Frank's large shoulder, unable to properly support the thick cotton weight of your own body.

Frankie's eyes are blown almost entirely black with arousal, flickering between you and Frank. His curls are sticking to his forehead, damp with sweat. "Good girl, look so pretty taking us both." Frankie snaps his hips harder as he compliments you, making both you and Frank moan.

You can tell they're both close. You can feel them both throbbing inside of you, edging closer to their releases.

"What do you need, pretty girl? What's it going to take to make you come for us?" Frank asks, his breath is hot against your cheek.

Your mind has gone foggy, barely able to focus on anything other than the two cocks stuffed inside you. "M-more," you manage to whine.

"Atta girl,” Frank says. He allows one leg to fall, a quick readjustment of his and Frankie’s arms, and the pad of his fingers are ghosting over your mound. He's barely touching you, holding out from giving what you need.

A needy, debauched sound echoes from your throat, vocalizing words your need where words are failing you. Frankie gives a small nod. "Give it to her. She's been good."

You can hear the smile on Frank's face. "Awe Cat, I was only teasing her a little."

Like a good soldier he follows Frankie's orders, finally rubbing small rapid circles over your clit. "Oh FUCK," you scream, not caring about the thin hotel walls.

"That's it, cum for us baby," Frank eggs you on, thrusting into you with more purpose alongside Frankie. You've been on the edge for so long that it takes almost nothing to let go.

It's too overwhelming you keep your eyes open like Frankie asked. They squeeze shut as your arousal floods them, legs shaking with pleasure. Your already tight pussy clenches around them and with a few more thrusts you feel them shuddering above and beneath you.

They both empty themselves into you, releases combining and spilling out. Frankie pulls out of you first. A soft grunt falls from his lips before helping Frank to move your nearly limp body from off of him.

Sideways and facedown on the bed, you barely have enough consciousness left to keep yourself from drooling. You've never cum that hard in your life. Hands are running over your sweat slicked skin, slowly grounding you and allowing your return to the land of the living.

Frankie's face suddenly appears before you. His cheek is smushed from the mattress, eyes shining brightly. "¿Estás bien hermosa?"

You give him what you're sure is an incredibly dopey grin. "I'm fantastic."

Frankie's smile widens and then disappears from your view. Frank's hands are gently grabbing at the globes of your ass, perfectly content to enjoy their softness.

"Good," Frankie says. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

Your question about what he means is on the tip of your tongue, answered immediately by the tip of his sinking between your cum slick folds. The greedy noises Frankie makes is enough to relight the spark of arousal you had just thought quenched.

Frank repositions himself on the bed, placing your head on his lap while Frankie cleans you with his tongue. Frank's knuckles run over your skin. Gently he traces the bridge of your nose, the edge of your jaw, before following your pulse down your neck.

You reach up and grip at Frank's hip when Frankie plunges his tongue deeper. He builds you up to a slow, sudden orgasm that you weren't even sure you'd be capable of. Overstimulation forces a few tears to slip from your eyes, the soft smile on your lips revealing your true emotion.

You look up to see Frankie's lips crash against Frank's, sharing the combined taste of all three of you with him. It's messy, all tongues and teeth, and if you weren't so blissed out you'd be getting turned on all over again. Frankie is obviously ready to go again, his time spent between your legs feeding his arousal.

Lethargically you twist on the mattress, keeping Frank's firm thigh as your pillow. You watch Frank's hand wrap around Frankie's thick length, working him towards a second release.

Frankie's fingers dig into Frank's muscles where he's holding onto him, sure to leave behind the most loving bruises Frank has ever received. "Shit, Castle," Frankie grunts.

You're still not sure you've regained full motor functions, but you reach out, carefully massaging Frankie's balls. He doesn't last long after that. Frankie pulls Frank in towards him, pressing their foreheads together as he spills over the marine's hand. You don't give Frank a second to wonder about cleanup, licking his fingers and palm clean.

You'd have to be blind to not notice Frank's proud erection next to your head. "Do you want me to-" you start to ask, Frank cutting you off with a quick shake of his head.

"Later, pretty lady."

The three of you reposition in the bed, arms and limbs tangled together. You don't fall asleep, instead enjoying the feeling of being pressed together, breaths and hearts in sync with each other. You press kisses into any strip of skin available, indiscriminate in who receives your love. They're equally indiscriminate with theirs and your chest swells with affection towards these two hardened men who treat you with so much affection.

+++

I'm only using my everything taglist for this filth bc I'm lazy 😅

@radiowallet @sergeantbannerbarnes @pilothusband @max--phillips @starlightmornings @moonlight-prose @practicalghost @mylovelycomandante @sharkbait77 @honestly-shite @shadesofnerdlygrace @salome-c @artsymaddie @paintballkid711 @niki-xie @hotchlover @doin-stuff @magikfanatic @astoryisaloveaffair @donnaa @linkpk88 @tintinn16 @mswarriorbabe80

[alaskasmonsters]

Patch-Up | Levi Ackerman

levi got injured and you clean his wounds and patch him up, feeling guilty about being the reason he got hurt.

pairing: Levi Ackerman x gn!reader

w.c: 2.665

warning: very minor description of injuries, mentions of blood, Levi is kinda very soft in this one

a.n: i wasn’t actually planning to finish this so quickly, haha, levi i love you. also, i feel like he might kinda be ooc??? i just idk, maybe? i hope it isn’t too bad, though.

A frustrated sigh left your lips as you inspected Levi’s face closer, trying to hide your concern about the head wound and the now dried-up blood that marked a trail from the man’s hair line down to his chin.

He’s been hurt during your fight against Kenny and his guys, hitting his head horribly at one point during, leaving a nasty cut behind.

You already felt bad about that, since it was kinda your fault he hit his head in the first place, as he had to protect you in a moment you weren’t entirely focused and would have certainly died if Levi hadn’t swooped in and saved your ass.

It didn’t help that Levi’s eyes, who were usually set in a cold and unbothered glance had grown softer, which smoothened out the frown he almost always wore on his face.

It was terrifying.

You hoped the man didn’t have a concussion because of your stupidity.

“I’ll clean the wound,” you mumbled weakly, repeating words you’ve already said once to remind yourself to keep moving towards him.

You were hyper aware of the captain’s eyes on you and the way the matratze softly bounced as you sunk down on the bed beside him. You reached for the bucket with fresh water and the cloth hanging off it and noticed in horror that your hands were shaking.

Calm down. It‘s only a little blood.

Dipping the fabric into the water and wringing it out you tried to focus your attention on calming your breath, scared Levi would notice you panicking and get annoyed by your sensitive nature as he once called it.

As you were sure your heart rate had slowed you turned again, sending the brunet a small smile, hoping it looked reassuring, as you moved the cloth to start cleaning around the area of the eyes first, so he could see again.

Your hands were still shaking, you noticed bitterly, but you tried your best to make it seem like it was fine.

A hand then took hold of your wrist in a surprisingly soft manner, holding your arm in place.

You froze in surprise, eyes glancing up to find Levi staring at you. His gaze studying you calmly.

“I‘m okay,” he said.

You averted your eyes, biting your lips.

So he had noticed.

Of course.

He was way too observant to miss your fidgety movements and shaky breath. You should probably be more surprised about the soft tone of his voice and the absent annoyance in his features.

„I know,“ you assured, trying and probably failing at putting a tone of certainty in your voice.

Levi studied your face once more, before he gave a slow nod of approval, letting go off your wrist again.

You hoped he didn’t see you visibly relax after he did.

Quickly, you went to work and started cleaning off the dried blood from beneath his left eye first. That proved itself more difficult than you had expected as the constant weight of his eyes on you made you feel nervous and short-breathed.

Silence fell between the both of you, the only sound being your breathing and the occasional water splashing, when cleaning off the rug.

“Close your eye,” you ordered as you had removed all the blood from his cheek.

Levi did what you told him without complaining, closing his eye while he continued watching you out of the other in the meantime.

You clenched your jaw, slowly growing frustrated by the eerie silence between you two and Levi’s uncharacteristic calmness.

Not that he usually screamed at you, but the aura of annoyance that enveloped humanity’s strongest most days, especially when interacting with you it seemed, had disappeared.

It kinda scared you.

His persistent glance on you, now out of two eyes again as you moved to clean off the cloth, would have felt more comfortable if he’d just rolled his eyes once in a while.

It almost seemed like he was expecting you to do something, or hoping maybe. Although you had no idea of what that could be.

Slowly the silence was growing heavy for you, the urge to fill it with words becoming unbearable. So when you turned back to move on to his forehead, softly brushing dark strands of hair out of his face you said the first thing that came to mind.

“I‘m sorry.“

The familiar frown appeared on his face again and your heart jumped in your chest.

“What are you talking about?“

You shrugged, trying to focus your attention on your task at hand instead of letting your eyes shift back to his.

“I was being stupid and didn‘t pay attention and you had to save my ass...now you‘re hurt,” you whispered, words dripping with guilt.

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes and you cursed yourself at being so hypersensitive. Levi hated when you cried about stupid shit, he hated it when you were being dramatic.

You bit your lips, forcing the tears back down.

„Tch. It wasn‘t your fault your ODM gear malfunctioned, brat.”

Levi did finally sound annoyed (his voice still had that soft nuance to it, though, so it didn’t completely count).

“If I wasn't distracted that moment, I wouldn't have been almost sliced up by one of Kenny’s guys despite my malfunctioning ODM gear and you wouldn’t have had to swoop in and save my ass and then you never would have gotten hurt...” i explained, hands moving faster to rub the blood off of his skin as my voice rose in frustration.

If you had only been able to save face, keep calm and not fall into utter panic the moment something didn’t work out as you had expected it, too. Then this would have never happened.

Levi was right. You were irresponsible and childish and hot headed and...

A cold hand snuck around your wrist once again, squeezing your skin once, twice. Your hand stilled. Turning your face away, you bit your lip in frustration.

You had been told often, by almost everyone you’ve ever gotten to know throughout the years with the Survey Corps, that you wore your heart on your sleeve. Some found it endeatring, calling you soft hearted and gentle, while others were (rightfully) scolding you for it, saying you’d never make it far in this kind of profession when you weren’t even able to hide your frustration with the smallest things.

Armin, one of your new recruits, had once told you you had an honest face. Said it was the reason many people trusted you, since they knew you couldn’t hide your lies or insincerities as easily as others.

Levi had told you many times that it was your biggest disadvantage and he was right. You’d never be able to rise in the ranks, never would be declared the leader of a squad or trusted in a position with responsibility. After all, nobody wanted to take orders from someone who couldn't hide their fear, anger, frustration or sadness.

You almost expected Levi to scold you for it once again, grip your wrist and tell you, no, order you to get a grip, not to let anybody see your weakness...

He didn’t.

“I told you, it wasn‘t your fault,” he told you sternly as his thumb softly stroked the inside of your wrist.

Your brain so gracefully short-circuited at the action and unwillingly, as if you were pulled towards a magnet, your eyes were drawn back towards Levi.

His facial expression was just as monotone as usual, but his eyes, they were different still. An emotion you couldn’t quite grasp hidden just beneath the surface. You didn’t know what exactly it was, but it made your heart flutter.

“I‘m still sorry though,” you protested weakly, smiling a little, hoping it would ease the thick tension.

Levi continued to study your face in silence for a few seconds before he finally let go, with a roll of his eyes and a scoff.

You could hardly hide the feeling of triumph that gave you.

“Brat.”

You grinned at him, turning your attention back to his wounds.

You hadn’t even noticed how long you’d already held his hair back, cradling his head in your hand.

The realization made your cheeks glow and you quickly sneaked a look at the man but noticed thankfully Levi had either not noticed or decided not to comment.

You went back to your job, chest a little lighter.

When you were finished cleaning off all the dried off blood you took a closer look at his injury. Despite the vehement blood loss the cut in his skin was relatively small. It didn’t even need stitches, although it might leave behind a bump, considering the velocity he had hit the roof with on his way down.

You sat back on your hackles and raised your finger. You gave Levi a stern (or hopefully stern) glance as you told him to follow your movements.

“Don‘t be an idiot, i don‘t have a concussion.”

You gave him a pout, unmoving as you eyed him stubbornly.

Judging by how easily he gave in, indicated by a sigh and another roll of his eyes, your worry might be justified.

You started moving your hand slowly and Levi followed the movement for a while, sending you a glare when you started drawing circles and spirals into the air.

You just gave him a grin.

“Okay, any dizziness? Headaches?” you asked.

“Why need a headache when you‘re around?” Levi answered sarcastically.

Seems like he was alright enough to be a little shit, then.

“Don‘t insult the person who‘s been cleaning blood off of you for 10 minutes!“

Now the only thing left to do was patching up his head, Thinking about it, a bandaged head would probably only add even more to his already above average appearance.

You started applying the cloth, carefully wrapping the material around his head. Levi endured your slow process like a champ.

You peeked at him from time to time, making sure the man had no complaints. He was very precise and hated sloppy work and you didn’t want him to think of you as unfit to fix him up. After all you had been the one offering, no, persisting to take a look and you didn’t want him to regret giving in to you.

“Stop looking at me like that, brat.”

You frowned, glancing down at him again.

“What? I don‘t know what you mean. I‘m not looking at you in any specific way.”

The corners of his lips moved up slightly, close enough to resemble a smile and your breath stuttered at the unfamiliar action. Your eyes were pulled towards them, the soft curve of his mouth was strangely captivating to you.  

“It‘s the way you‘re always looking at me,” he explained with a teasing tone and his smirk widened a little, making him look less and less like the Levi you’ve talked to every day.

Your face flooded with heat and you quickly snapped up your eyes, to no longer stare at the man’s lips (yes, you had been staring, how embarrassing) but instead into his eyes.

Big mistake.

The amused glint you found there made your face flush an even darker shade of red.

You could curse yourself and that you were once again acting like a smitten teenager instead of a soldier in front of your captain.

Trying to gloss over your embarrassment you shook your head, scoffing softly. Then you focused your attention on finishing your work with the bandage.

“I don‘t look at you any differently than I look at other people,” you declared in frustration.

He laughed. Levi Ackerman, emotionally stunted Levi Ackerman laughed. It was quiet and breathy, more likely a chuckle, almost inaudible, too.

But it shook you to your core.

“You have no issue declaring your love to me multiple times a day, but now you‘re getting shy?“ he asked in amusement, cocking his head to the side.

You huffed.

He wasn’t wrong, you were awfully direct with your affections towards the captain. Just like you couldn’t hide your emotions when it came to your face, you were horrible at concealing them in general.

How could you not comment on his strength and attractiveness when it was a blatant fact. Although you often did it in a joking manner, teasing Levi for having the prettiest face in the Survey Corps and acknowledging his skills with the ODM gear.

It wasn’t fair he was using this against you now.

“Shut up!” you grumbled, pulling at the cloth to straighten it out again.

Levi did shut up, although the smile didn’t fall from his face and his eyes watched you work with interest.

You finished quickly, partly because his gaze on you was nothing short of unsettling, partly because you hoped you’d get away before he started full on teasing you.

You couldn’t quite hide your frustration (as already established) and let out an exasperated groan.

“And stop smiling!” you warned, not sure where you’ve gotten the courage to do so.

Levi followed your movements as you picked up the bucket and brought it across the room to empty its contents into the sink.

“Is my smile bothering you? Didn‘t you say i should smile more?“ he asked in confusion.

“Yeah, but just in general. Not when i‘m in the room!“ you corrected him halfheartedly.

The chuckle you got in response made your brain short circuit once again.

How the fuck was this man so hot?

”Any specific reasons as to why, brat?“

You could only speak of luck that your back was turned towards Levi so you could hide the traitorous shade of red your face must be spotting at this moment. There would have been no denying it if the captain had chosen to comment on it.

Knowing him, he would have.

“Shut up.”  you protested again, subtly raising your hands to your face to cool your cheeks a little.

You couldn’t see his face this way but you were sure that Levi put his newfound ability of a smile, maybe even a smirk, judging by the goosebumps you felt on the back of your neck, to use.

While you were busy washing the bucket, Levi got to his feet to study your work in the mirror by the cupboard. He took a few seconds, and you believed he must be sorting the criticism he had by fatality, starting with the least life threatening mistake you made and moving on to the most hard hitting insult.

Despite what you had thought he gave his reflection a satisfied nod.

Okay, what?

“Decent job, brat,” he complimented and yes you might have combusted that moment.

You turned back to the sink, a satisfied smile growing on your lips. Your stomach felt all fuzzy and warm at Levi’s praise.

You didn’t notice the captain approach, only noticing his presence when he was already leaning into your personal space, whispering a soft “Thank you.” into your ear. His hot breath fanned over sensitive skin and you froze in your movement.

To torture you or maybe he didn’t get enough fun out of the situation already, he then proceeded to plant a small kiss to the corner of your lips, missing just enough so it wouldn’t count as a real kiss, before retreating again.

He left the room as if nothing of importance had just happened, leaving you behind, frozen in your spot and heart hammering in your chest.

Levi was already gone when you were able to shake yourself out of the shock.

You carefully touched your cheek, the ghost of a sensation of soft lips against your warm skin still prominent. The memory of him lingering for just a second too long now fresh on your mind.

A huge grin split your face, the urge to jump on the bed and hug your pillow while giggling manically overcame you out of a sudden.

You really were acting like a smitten teenager.

[thisismyhell]

With you, Safely

Pairing: Hotch x reader (criminal minds) FLUFF :)

Summary: You have a stalker, and it just so happens the BAU is in the right place at the right time. Can Hotch make you feel safe in your stressful state?

Words: 5k

TWs: blaming yourself, a gun is mentioned, making out!!!!!

Being honest about your personal life was never your strong suit. You always had the habit of leaving out sometimes small, and sometimes big, details about your situation. Whether it was because you found it way too personal, or just simply forgot about the idea of telling someone. You knew that theoretically if the people in your life were good, they would be there for you. But, you also knew that you had some people in your life who were not so good, and the lines often blurred in your mind. So when you started getting anonymous threats sent to your workplace, it took you a while to come to terms with the fact that you should tell someone. 

Taking your boss’s advice, you went to the police station. You have never had a reason to engage with a cop before, and if you were honest with yourself, you were not exactly thrilled at the concept. Especially under your circumstances. Not only did you hate the idea of talking about your personal life, but asking for actual help made you nauseous. It made you physically uncomfortable to put yourself out there like that, admitting to being vulnerable and not being able to take care of the situation quietly on your own. You understood that having threats sent to you like this was not a casual situation you could take care of, but you were still mentally trying to get out of this realization. Everything is fine if you just don’t talk about it, right?

“How can I help you today?” the receptionist asked, bringing you back into reality. “Um, sorry - I just..I think I may have a s-stalker? I don’t really know though, it might not even be that serious-”, “okay, what makes you think you have a stalker?” you were thankful she had taken the lead in this conversation. “Well, I-uh, I have been getting threats. Like, sent to my workplace? I don’t know, like, letters and packages from someone I don’t know. It might not be serious, my boss.. My boss just thought I should tell the police?” You were so uncomfortable, and the woman helping you could tell. “Alright well, how about you step into an office over here and we can take you information, and you can tell an officer everything you can. How does that sound?” Her kind eyes were easing your shoulders from their crunched up state. “That would be helpful, yes, t-thank you”. You followed her into an office where an officer wrote down everything you described to them. 

Taking the bus back to your apartment, you felt some tension leave your body. It had been maybe 2-3 months of keeping this to yourself, and you finally had the energy to tell someone. Someone who could maybe actually put you at ease. You probably didn’t have a stalker, let’s be real. That stuff never happens in real life, the concept was so far away from being real to you. Exiting the bus you kept telling yourself everything would be fine, and this would blow over in a week. You walked up the steps to your one bedroom, and found a stack of mail at your doorstep. Picking it up and entering your home, and flipped through. A bill, some junk mail, and some letter with no return address on it. Actually, it just had your info and nothing else, not even a stamp. You put the rest of your mail down and opened the mysterious letter. Your heart sank when you realized what it was. 

“Why did you have to tell them about us? Everything was going so well.”

That’s all it said inside the letter. You dropped it, and called the station asking for the officer you were just speaking to. They told you that you were lucky, because the FBI was in town that week and had just finished up another case. You were told they had some extra time on their hands, and you could come in tomorrow to speak with them. You sighed and agreed, hanging up in relief. This would blow over, everything would be just fine. 

The BAU team was getting ready to head back to their hotel room when Hotch was pulled aside by an officer at the precinct they were working at. “Sir, I’m sorry to ask about this on your way out. But a woman came in earlier about a stalker sending threats to her workplace. We took her story and information, but she just called me back. She got a letter in the mail saying she shouldn’t have told the police. The guy knows where she lives”. 

The team all gathered around the officer. Hotch reached out, “she came in today about this, and he escalated that quickly?”. “Wait, if she was here today, how did we miss her?” Reid probed. The officer shook his head, “the lady was so quiet, she seemed hesitant to even be here in the first place. As soon as she finished her side and said that was all she knew, she was gone. Quietest girl I’ve ever seen”. “She must not have thought it was serious,” commented Morgan. 

“Sure, but a stalker rarely sends threats to the object of his desire without preparing for some kind of meeting. Officer, tell her to come back to the station and we can make a profile”. The officer told him she was already on the way, and she’d be there in less than an hour. 

Feeling shook up, you entered the station for the second time that day. The receptionist recognized you, and walked with you to where the BAU team was working. You felt somewhat shameful that such a big deal was being made over you, but you had to keep reminding yourself that you were not safe in your own home at this time. So you swallowed your pride, and right when you were about to try and get their attention, a tall dark haired gentleman introduced himself. “Good evening, you must be y/n. You can call me Hotch, and this is my team-”, you listed as he told you everyone’s name, thankful for his close proximity to you. Sure it was cheesy, but having a man like Hotch around you made you feel safe. You looked up at him, “thank you all, really - you didn’t have to stay in town just for this”. Hotch cut you off, “Nonsense. We were already here, and having a stalker know where you live on top of where you work is not something to ignore. We will help create a profile for you, you might know who it is without realizing it. You nodded, realizing for the first time in the past 3 months just how tired you were of this. Hotch immediately picked up on your body language, leading you to where a couch was placed in the back of the room.

You sat down next to Reid, the young doctor. He smiled at you almost as awkwardly as you smiled at him. Feeling safe on the couch, you let yourself relax a bit more. The situation you had gotten yourself into was far from ideal, but at least now you weren’t alone in it. However selfish it made you feel, you were happier to be here with the overworked team instead of your lonely apartment. You looked around and it seemed like the entire BAU were trying to profile you. Maybe they were, it was their job of course. You made eye contact with Hotch, who nodded at you, giving you the opportunity to tell your side of things. 

“It started 2 or 3 months ago when I got some letter delivered to me at work. It was weird since like, why would I get mail at work? But I opened it and it was just a description of what I looked like, like in a poem. But I googled it and it’s an original. I couldn’t find it anywhere. So that threw me off but I didn’t take it seriously. I work in retail, I see a million people every shift, you know? I thought it was just some guy who was into me and was weird about it. But then I started getting them more and more often, but just at work. I got sent pictures of myself, presents, and they never had return addresses. And they all had the same handwriting so it was easy to assume it was the same guy. But today...I got a letter to my apartment. To where I live...alone. That’s never happened”. 

The team took in your words, looking like they had definitely seen this kind of thing before. Your gut had the mixed feeling of relief and worry. If they had seen this before they knew what to do, but that meant that they had to do something. Hotch looked at you, “luckily, we should be able to end this before he goes further. Can you tell us anyone in your life, no matter how small, that might want to hurt you, or even someone who holds some animosity towards you?”. You thought about it, and though you had a hunch, you were hoping it wasn’t true. “My..my ex boyfriend. I thought we ended things amicably, but I don’t think he ever got over it. I was hoping it wasn’t him”. The team all nodded, this was probably more common that you thought. 

You stood up, “I’m sorry, I just need some air”. You stepped into the hallway for some quiet, when you heard the office door open and close behind you. You recognized his cologne, Hotch came out and stood in front of you. “I know how uncomfortable this situation must be. Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable in the meantime?”. The man had the kindest eyes, even under his stern brows. You wondered if he practiced this expression, the perfect balance between intimidating and soft. You hoped you were that good and being readable, that way you wouldn’t have to open your mouth. Weirdly, the only thing you wanted in that moment was a coffee. Something to keep you warm and give you some much needed energy. Having yourself on display like this all day had been exhausting. You were amazed when Hotch spoke, “there’s a coffee place across the street. The machine in here is broken, thankfully. I’ll take you”. He gently hovered his hand on the small of your back, as if asking permission to guide you out of the building. 

He walked you out, opening doors for you on the way. Walking into the shop with an FBI agent on your arm made you feel safe for the first time in a couple months. You weren’t one to rely on others in any capacity, but in that moment, you let yourself feel relaxed with the man’s presence. It was literally his job to keep you safe, and you’d be lying if that fact didn’t give you butterflies. You were a little too engulfed with taking him in that you didn’t notice he was speaking to you. “Sorry? I’m sorry, I must have zoned out, what were you saying?” you stammered, and he just looked down at you and smiled, repeating his question. “I was asking what you would like to drink? I assume coffee, but I wasn’t sure what your preference was”, he was smiling down at you, and you forgot about every type of coffee that has ever existed. “Oh! Um, a vanilla latte. But you don’t have to get it for me, I can take care of myself-” he cut you off with a single look. “Although I am more than sure you are capable of taking care of yourself, I would like to give you this one thing, if you’d let me”. You swallowed, “I guess- I guess I can let you do this one thing. For me. Thank you, sir”. He ordered your drinks and the two of you stood at the next counter waiting for them. Hotch quietly spoke to you, almost like it was just the two of you in the entire building, “as much as I appreciate the title, please call me Hotch”. You found yourself suppressing a giggle at the feeling of his voice so close to your neck, you were definitely not used to this level of attention. “Okay, Hotch it is”. 

You grabbed your drinks, and he held the door open for you on the way out. He moved his hand from your back where you had gotten so used to it, and he walked right into the road. You watched as he lifted his hand, stopping traffic to let you cross alongside him. What you didn’t see, was Morgan looking out the window at you two, and beckoning the team to come see how Hotch was treating you. “Damn, he must really like coffee today”. Reid joined him at the window, “actually, Hotch always has a next level of confidence after a case ends well. Y/n must be his outlet for a good mood”. Rossi sat at his desk working on a file, “yeah.. Pretty nice outlet if you ask me”. 

The two of you came back into the meeting room, and you couldn’t help the blush you felt when you noticed the team all glance at each other at the site of you two. This kind of attention was okay you thought, as long as he’s the source. Hotch pulled out a chair for you to sit next to him, and the team gathered at the meeting table. 

After some deliberation, and completely downing your coffee, you all came to the conclusion that based on your ex’s habits and personality, it was almost definitely him. So you created a plan to lure him out and catch him in the act. Unfortunately for you however, this meant having to literally face your problem. The team seemed confident enough, but Hotch could feel your body stiffen at the thoughts running through your head. Since meeting you just a couple hours prior, it turned out he could read you like a book. You couldn’t tell yet, but he could. He caught your jaw tighten, and he gently placed his hand on your shoulder, “y/n, you do not have to do this. We can find another way if you cannot bring yourself to go through with this plan”. He was being kind, but you all knew that this was for the best. You softly grinned at him, “thank you, Hotch, but I can do this. I want to face him”. And with that, you all left to get into your various positions. 

The plan was simple. In one of the letters you received, he stated that once you finally realized he was the one meant for you, you would get a table for two at the restaurant you had your first date, and you would prove to him you meant it by waiting for one whole hour, sitting there. Alone, while he supposedly watched you and your body language, and would then arrive. You would be wearing a wire, and once he started threatening you in person and possibly making a scene, the BAU would swoop in and save the day. You were confident in your role, not that you had to do much. You borrowed some date-type clothing from Emily, and you were now heading into the restaurant wearing your wire. You knew that this could all go horribly wrong, but hopefully whatever did happen, brought an end to your unhappiness. 

Taking the 100th deep breath of the day, you told the hostess your party name and they sat you down at your table. Thankfully your waiter was in on what was going on, so they wouldn’t be asking you about food until your ex came and sat down. You felt so exposed, of course your table was in the dead centre of the restaurant. You weren’t aware of the agents stationed around you, Reid pointed out that if you knew too much then the stalker would be able to read your body language too well. So you say there, sucking on the ice cubes from your water knowing what a long night this was going to be. 

“How are you feeling, y/n?” Hotch scared the daylights out of you, causing you to swallow your ice cube by accident. You gasped, but recovered smoothly. You kept your face as straight as you could without openly talking to yourself, “you scared me, I didn’t know you’d be on the other end of this thing”. You heard him softly chuckle, easing the tension. “Well, having you wired would be pretty useless if we couldn’t hear each other”. You smiled to yourself. Obviously he was right, but for some reason you just didn’t clue in that it could be him, out of everyone on the team, to be the one consoling you tonight. Maybe they were in on how he made you feel. Mentally thanking Hotch for his presence, “you’re right, how silly of me. Here I am feeling all alone in here without realizing who has my back”. There was a small pause on the other end before he replied, “you are far from alone in there, y/n”. You didn’t think it was possible given the circumstances, but you felt safe here in that moment too. You swore you could feel his physical presence even through the tiny earpiece. 

Some time passed, and with talking as minimally as you could, you realized an hour was about to pass. Now you had to prepare yourself for the confrontation. You were fine, but emotionally and mentally, you were not thrilled for the exhaustion you knew you’d be feeling in the next few moments. Looking out the windows of the patio, you saw him. Walking oddly through the crowd to the front doors. You knew this was going to be some sort of confrontation, but honestly you didn’t think that far ahead of what you would be saying or doing. Sensing some heating tension between your ex and the hostess, you found yourself frozen to your spot. He was just supposed to come in, say his name and be escorted over, what was going on? The hostess knew what to do, so why was tension rising? “Hotch..” you whispered, trying to get his attention. You heard a very quiet “don’t move”, before seeing your ex flash a gun hidden in his waistband. If you weren’t frozen before, you sure were by now. He hadn’t seen you yet, which was good. Maybe they’ll get to him before he gets to you. Slowly standing up from your seat with no intention to do anything but drop dead, you felt yourself taking a step towards him. You didn’t know why but something inside you told you that this whole thing was a mistake, and whatever was about to happen was your own fault, and you needed to stop it. You could talk to him and calm him down, that’s what your whole relationship was based on anyway. He just needed to be with you, and he would stop the hostility. 

As you were taking your third step in his direction, Hotch stepped in front of you, holding out the side of his jacket to stop your ex from seeing you. You felt his other arm ghost around your waist, his cologne seeping into the dress you borrowed. “Don’t let him see me..” you whispered. “I won’t let him do anything to you, y/n”. You let Hotch take the lead and guide you into the kitchen, out of harm's way. You didn’t realize you were quietly crying until you were standing against the cool tile wall, and Hotch brushed a tear away with his thumb. He went to leave, presumably to help arrest the man who was going to kill you. Before he could take another step, you grabbed his hand more forcefully than you thought you had the strength to. “Please, don’t leave me”. Hotch saw the pleading look in your eyes, and leaned into his phone, “take care of it, Morgan”. You let yourself quietly cry against the wall, facing Hotch. You were so incredibly embarrassed, this was all your fault. You should have realized who your stalker was immediately and squashed this whole problem by yourself. The fact that someone was being arrested right now because of you, made you sick. Sure, it was in order to keep you safe, but you still felt like a burden. The FBI shouldn’t be here. This shouldn’t have happened. 

Hotch couldn’t bring himself to just stand there and watch you fall apart, so he put his arms around you, gently squeezing you enough to make you feel present. You let yourself get your tears on his uniform, it was just something else to apologize for later. You almost collapsed, having all this mental weight pulling you down to the ground. Before you could fall, Hotch steadied you, pressing you against the wall in his hug to get you more grounded. The feeling of the cold tile against the back of your neck helped center you. Hotch let you go slowly, testing to see if you would stay standing without him. It tore him up inside seeing cases like these, and yours was no different. Now letting you stand on your own, the two of you held eye contact. “Y/n, you are safe. You never have to see him again. He cannot hurt you. He can’t hurt you anymore”. It was like he was saying it to the both of you as a mantra, getting you to feel okay and safe, and to bring him back to reality. He wanted to keep you safe, to open every door for you and stop traffic for you. Bring you coffee whenever you asked and even when you didn’t. He wanted you to understand how important you were, and how this was not your fault. He knew you blamed yourself, he could see it in your face and in your tears. 

You weren’t crying anymore, but you were exhausted. You wanted Hotch to just pick you up and take you home, take you anywhere but here. There was something in his demeanor that made you feel like a flower next to him. This big FBI agent, holding you up against the wall making sure you don’t fall over. You were almost killed tonight and all you could think about was just how strong Hotch was. Not to mention how good he smelled. He moved his grip from around your shoulders, down to around your waist. He pulled you into another deep embrace, this one feeling more personal. You had your arms around him but under his jacket, letting it fall around the two of you. You pulled away at the same time, and you muttered a small “thank you”. 

He towered over you, and he still had a concerned look in his eyes. You could tell he wanted to say something, so you nodded to try and get it out of him. “We both know you are safe now. That man is going back to the police station to be processed as the criminal he is..” he stopped, but you knew he wasn’t finished. You let him breath before continuing, “y/n, you live alone and today your life was threatened. You deserve to sleep somewhere tonight where you do not have to worry about a single thing”. He was right. You wanted to stay awake all night, knowing the moment you’d step back into your apartment you’d feel like you were in a cage. Your parents lived just outside the city, maybe you could have a police escort. But it was so late, and you hated the idea of waking up your parents just to baby you tonight. You knew exactly where you wanted to be, but how can you ask an FBI agent to extend his duties into watching over you through the night? All these thoughts raced through your mind in the second it took Hotch to open his mouth again, “I have an idea but the last thing I want is for you to feel pressured into saying yes, or scaring you off”. Now you were interested, the evening seemed to be playing out in your favour afterall. He continued, “y/n, the team and I are staying at the hotel downtown. I would be more than happy to pull some strings, and say we need an extra room for the night. We leave in the morning, but you’d be on a floor filled with FBI agents”. You accepted the offer maybe a little quickly, but thankfully he wasn’t put off with your enthusiasm. You leaned in again and held his suit collar, “thank you, Hotch. All I want is to feel safe tonight”. Looking up at him, a million thoughts crossed your mind all at once. You wanted to hire this man as your personal bodyguard. With the look you saw in his eye, he might even say yes. The next few moments were only seconds apart, but they felt like an eternity. Hotch placed his hands around your jaw, tilting your head up towards him. He looked at you with ocean’s in his eyes and whispered again like you were the only two in the entire building, “I can keep you safe, y/n”, before leaning in and giving you a kiss so grounding you swore he had you in the palm of his hand. 

“Guys, we’re good let’s head back - “ Morgan cut himself off when he saw Hotch removing his hands from you. Hotch cleared his throat, “y/n will be staying at the hotel with us tonight. I don’t think it would be wise for her to go back home alone”. You were hoping Morgan couldn’t see you holding on to Hotch’s forearm like your life depended on it. He got the idea, and the 3 of you left in the SUV back downtown. 

Once you entered the lobby, the team went up to their rooms as Hotch took you to the front desk. He enquired about getting an extra room just for you, and the manager handed you your key for the night. Slowly making your way up to the shared floor, you started to digest all the events that happened during your day. You almost got lost in your own brain, but Hotch pulled you back out when he placed his hand on the small of your back with confidence, leading you out into the hallway. You found your room, just a couple door’s down from where Hotch said he was. You were excited to be staying in a fancy hotel, even for just one night. As much as you wanted Hotch to come in with you, you knew he was technically still at work. But once again as if he could read your mind, Hotch was the one to open your door and see you inside safely. You took in your room. It was gorgeous with a king bed and a view for days. Putting your things down on the bed, you looked to Hotch, who seemed to be fidgeting slightly. He had been so confident in front of you all day, what was making him act like that?

“Is there anything else you need? I’d be happy to get anything-”, “thank you Hotch, really. But I have everything that I need right here in this room”. You gave him another soft smile, and you went to see him out. Your door was still closed, and Hotch was reaching to open it. He turned back around to you without realizing how close you were standing behind him. “If you change your mind, I’m just a couple doors down. I don’t sleep much, so it won’t be hard to get me”. You thought to yourself and spoke, “actually, I don’t sleep much either. I’ve had insomnia since I was a child”. 

“Really?” he asked you, returning a smirk. “Really”, you offered. You moved around him and leaned against the door, wanting to continue the conversation. Hotch took another guess at what you wanted, and he slowly pressed himself against your small frame, holding you in place. You let out a small sigh, showing him you didn’t mind at all. He took your waist in his hands for the second time that evening, and placed his lips against yours. He kissed you so softly and so gently, you thought you were going to float away. And his grip on you said he felt the same way. Digging his fingers harder into your waist asking permission to deepen the kiss, you granted him access. You opened your mouth to heat the moment, and Hotch was thrilled. He was pressing you into the door like he was afraid you’d otherwise fall through the floor. You were on your tiptoes kissing him and he wouldn’t let you feel any of your weight. You were completely pinned, and you loved it. You felt so secure between him and the door, knowing you were not going anywhere without him guiding you there first. He was protecting you with everything he could, never allowing you to go more than a split second without having his mouth on you. 

If the two of you couldn’t sleep, you wouldn’t mind being pinned all night long. Hotch was huge, towering over you from the moment you met. But he had the softest eyes you’d ever seen. He was kissing you like it was keeping you alive, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. You were gripping his shirt in your fists, seeing what he would allow you to do under his restrictions. He let you run your hands all over him, encouraging him to do the same to you. The two of you broke away at the same time for air. He looked down at you like you could break if he said the wrong thing. “If this is helping at all, I can stay longer if you need me-” you answered the lame question with a sloppy kiss on his neck, “Hotch, please stay with me”. With that, he gathered you in his arms and brought you to the bed.

_______________________

should i do a part 2?? 

[soliavenne]

Between Naked Souls - 1 (Gaara x Reader R-18 Fanfiction)

Hiii, everyone! :) <3 This long fic had been my baby since early September. It took really long, but I think a part of me is in agreement that this story really needed that amount time to develop, and I'm really proud and happy of what it has resulted to. This work really means the world to me. It had exhausted me beyond measure but I have really fallen in love with it.

Warning: NSFW work ahead.

Word count: 26.6k (I know, self-control is not my best suit.)

I hope you enjoy! <3 

Cover art by yours truly. 

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Gaara jolted awake with a choked gasp; the clawing sensation down his now hoarse throat as the strain caused by unintelligible growls for help that has been leaving his mouth for the past twenty minutes began to catch up with his dawning consciousness. He propped his elbows behind his back, his chest heaving up and down heavily as he tried to chase his breath. He continued to shift backwards until he felt the headboard press against his back in support to his weakening composure. Gaara brushed his forearms across his forehead, making him wince when he raked his fingers down his now, sweat-dampened hair. He really wasn’t able to conjure images just yet as his eyes were still adjusting to the almost pitch black darkness of his room, so he gasped in shock when he felt something touch the back of his hand, with his head automatically shooting towards the direction in which the surprising gesture came from.

“Hey…” Your voice croaked, followed by a yawn as you rubbed your knuckles against your eyes. “Gaara? Are you awake?” You slowly sat up, swinging your body towards the side of the bed to reach for the lamp above the nightstand. After turning it on, you returned your attention towards Gaara, whose chest was still heaving up and down, with his face angled towards the ceiling; eyes glued shut, skin pale and sweaty. Your blood ran cold out of panic, as his current state was unraveled to you. You quickly grabbed a fist of the blanket before throwing it out towards the floor to give him some air. The amount of concerned queries that rambled down your mouth without any sense of halting any time soon was cut short when Gaara placed his hand above yours, giving it a firm squeeze to snap you out of your agitated daze.

“Y/N,” Gaara breathed out as he was still trying to stabilize his panting. “there’s nothing to worry about...”

You leaned over towards Gaara, your knees pressed down against the mattress. You reached out for him and placed a palm against his forehead. “What do you feel, Gaara? Do you feel sick?”

“No,” Gaara let out a deep sigh as he crossed his arms against his stomach; palms sluggishly rubbing up and down his arms in hopes of calming the chills enveloping his body. “it’s just… another nightmare.”

Your eyes went soft at what you heard, and over the very sight that that was happening before you. He only had little to no time that was reserved so that he could take a proper rest, yet even that was being robbed away from him. You couldn’t help it, your stomach continued to drop in a bottomless pit of pity, as it felt like you could almost sense every fiber of fatigue and exhaustion from your lover.

Gaara doesn’t deserve any of this.

“Tsk,” Gaara groaned, as his head started to throb in pain. He pressed the pads of his index and middle finger against his opposite temples, massaging it in circles to alleviate the pulsing pain. “I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I didn’t mean to wake you up like that… I’m so sorry, my love.”

“Hey…” Your voice softened at him, as you reached out for the side of his face so that you could redirect it towards yours. “you have nothing to apologize for, okay?” You stroked his cheek as you smiled reassuringly before him. “None of this is your fault, Gaara.”

Another worn out sigh ripped from his chest. Gaara held your hand that was placed against his cheek, caressing it with his thumb before leaning his lips towards your palm to kiss it gently. “I will be alright, Y/N. You have nothing to be concerned about.”

“Well, that’s too bad… I’m kinda’ bound to be always concerned about you no matter what.” You chuckled at him, eliciting a small smile from your lover in return. You ran your fingers through his locks, a little surprised when you felt how soaking wet it was. “You’re so sweaty right now, Gaara. Let me grab some towel and water, alright?”

There was a sight of a slight pout on Gaara’s lips, his gaze anywhere but in direct contact with yours. “Stay…”

Your hand on his cheek travelled down his shoulder, and down on his hand, giving it a soft squeeze to ease him down a bit. “But you might suffer from colds if I let you go back to sleep like that, Gaara.” He seemed like he was about to speak another word, but he nodded in agreement after a minute of silence. You stood up from the bed, opening the closet and rummaging through his clothes before grabbing another pair sleeping garments for your lover; placing it on top of the mattress. Prior to walking straight towards the door, you went towards Gaara, who was now watching you from his side of the bed. You ushered his face closer towards yours by both sides of his jaw, before pressing a soft kiss on his forehead. “I won’t take long, I promise.”

“Promise?” Gaara mumbled, his soft voice feeling like he was tugging on your heartstrings.

“Yes, Gaara. I promise.” You smiled at him once again. “I will be back.”

The subtle sound of your footsteps echoed throughout the corridor as you walked towards the kitchen. Despite how dim it was, you somehow knew exactly where to walk through to get towards the switch; as it finally seems like you have already memorized the layout of Gaara’s house over the course of time you have spent inside it.

Gaara was indeed a busy man, he was the Kazekage of the village after all. He rarely comes home, as he never really found any reason to stay inside his house all by himself when he could just be doing paperwork instead inside his office. It did change, though, when the two of you had started dating one another. After a year of being together, Gaara finally invited you over to his house, and you swore that the whole vibe that it radiated off was as if his house was recently furnished, and was finally in commercial to be sold. It was spotlessly-clean, from up the ceiling, down the floor; a little monotonous and plain if you were to be honest; not entirely homey, as expected from someone who doesn’t really live much inside his own home; a decision with a much more deeper reason that you have just been recently informed of when Gaara offered you to stay with him for the meantime while you were looking for a new apartment to move in.

When you started living with Gaara, he offered you the luxury of having his bedroom to yourself, which something you disagreed wholeheartedly with. There was no way you were going to let him sleep on the couch when the two of you could fit snugly on top of his bed. The only thing that made you agreed to his proposition was when he said that he wasn’t ready to share a bed just yet; so as much as you wanted to tell him it was more than okay for you to sleep beside one another, the last thing you wanted was to put pressure on him.

It was when you woke up in the middle of the night to drink water, when you found him sitting alone in the couch in a sleepy daze, his elbows pressed on top of his thighs with his face buried into his hand. His hair was disheveled, and his breathing was labored. When you sat beside him, asking him what was wrong, the frustration and weariness in his voice was evident.

“I had a nightmare…”

According to Gaara, it seemed like he had started suffering from recurring nightmares a year after the Fourth Great Ninja War, confessing to you how he had been coping about it ever since. Gaara said that he tries to take short naps throughout the day in order to make up for little to no sleep that he gets at night. He tries to steer himself away from sleeping at the comfort of his home, because when the exhaustion catches up to him, he ends up losing control over the state of sleep, making him susceptible to another yet episode of a nightmare.

The next morning, you almost pleaded to Gaara to finally sleep beside you.

“Please, Gaara. If you were in my place, you know it yourself that you would do everything you can just so you could take care of me. We should always take care of each other no matter what.”

It honestly took a lot of convincing before you got Gaara to agree with you. He kept telling you that he didn’t want to disturb what should be a night of peaceful sleep for you, but you knew it yourself that having him beside you would not be the reason of you losing sleep, but the fact that you would always be worried sick about him. Who was he kidding? How could you even get an ounce of sleep now after knowing what he goes through at night? As much was you wanted him to give him the autonomy over his decisions, this wasn’t any matter that should be dealt alone with, and Gaara knows that himself. If you were to be the one in his place, he wouldn’t sit still about it as well.

After a minute of letting the kettle’s whistle tear through the quiet of the night, you wrapped a rug on the plastic handle before taking it off the flame. You leaned downwards to grab a small basin from the cabinet, filling half of it with cold water under the faucet before turning it off. You poured the hot water in intervals, feeling the water with your other hand now and then as you tried to bring it up to a proper temperature; the steam coming off of it feeling rather nice against your cold cheeks. You placed two bath towels over your shoulder, and just before you were about to lift the basin from the sink, you felt someone shift behind your back.

It was Gaara.

You felt his hands travel from your waist, towards on top of your stomach as he pulled you in for a backhug. “Let me carry that.” Gaara whispered into your ear before pressing a soft kiss on your cheek.

“You should be resting on the bed,” You mumbled, your voice laced with just a tiny bit of scolding. “I’m supposed to be the caretaker here, Gaara.”

Gaara smiled against your face, as he continued to plant gentle kisses upon your skin. “I will always take care of you… as much as you take care of me, even if I’m incapacitated to do so. We’ll always take of each other no matter what; that’s what you said, right?”

Your chest tightened with what you just heard, feeling a soft brush of warmth across your now probably flushed cheeks. Before you knew it, Gaara was already walking back towards the bathroom with the basin at hand, leaving you a flustered mess in the kitchen.

The windows were now opened, and the moonlight bathed the bedroom in a gentle, luminous glow. Gaara sat still on the edge of the bed that was facing the window, eyes trained on the side as you stood before him. The basin was on your right side, sitting above a wooden stool, with the bath towel now soaking the warm water inside it.

“Uhm… Would you rather have me take off your clothes, or you want to do it by yourself?”

After turning on the night lamp, you saw a clearer glimpse of Gaara’s face, which was currently laced with concern. After a minute or two of wondering why, that was when you realized what he had been thinking about ever since he sat on the bed.

“You have nothing to worry about, Gaara. I don’t mind… seeing you with your clothes off.”

Gaara’s chest tightened, as his face started to get as red as his hair. He pursed his lips subtly out of embarrassment, before pulling his dampened shirt over his head, folding it neatly above his lap before placing it down the floor. Gaara stood up from the bed, before pulling his pajamas down until it pooled down his feet. You redirected your gaze towards the walls behind your lover, your lips in a slight pout as you tried to release a subtle, drawn out sigh to ease your jittering nerves.

“I’m… I’m done.” Gaara murmured, his palms pressed down against the mattress on both sides of his body, as he was now left wearing nothing but black, cotton boxers, a messy hair, and a blushing face.

You smiled nervously at him before taking a sit beside him, the mattress sinking down a little in response to the movement. You reached for the bath towel lying on the bottom of the basin, and with both hands, you squeezed the excess water out, dipping it up and down as you continued to drain it just until it was damp enough to cleanse his body off of the stickiness of his sweat. Gaara rotated himself to face you directly, so that you could have a better access to his body. You grabbed him softly by his wrist, starting by his hands. You gently rubbed both of his palms, before cleaning in between of his fingers. “Your hands are rather pretty, don’t you think? They’re so soft… and slender.”

“I never took notice of that,” Gaara mumbled in between of trying his best to meet your gaze, but failing nevertheless halfway through it. “but, uhm… thank you, Y/N.”

You smiled back at him while you were rubbing the towel from his wrist towards his arm in firm, upwards strokes, doing the same thing with the other one before returning the towel into the basin, allowing it to soak up water for a minute or two before wringing it out once again, the sound of water dripping down the basin sounding rather relaxing as it consorted the quietness of the night perfectly.

“Uchiha… Sasuke, huh?” You asked curiously, as you were now rubbing the towel on top of his left shoulder, gazing intrigued at the huge scar just a few inches below the tail of his collarbone. There was an odd, circular looking-shape at the center, its edges jagged; seemingly appearing to be the epicenter of the attack. It seemed to branch out in different directions, some of it being three to four inches in length, finalized by extensions of smaller, thinner limbs of scar. The color of it was in between oleander and umber, rather a little glossy in appearance considering how old it was.

“Hmm…” Gaara sighed with a slight, amused smile on his face; remembering that he once considered his scar as a memento of the very day he met his first friend; Uzumaki, Naruto.

“What do you think about it?”

“…About what?”

“Your scar.”

You were now scrubbing the damp cloth against his chest, and you couldn’t help but get a little nervous.

Gaara wasn’t overly buff, his muscles were rather lean and well-defined. It wasn’t the type to put an exaggerated strain on the fabric of his clothes, as Gaara himself also opts for a looser approach of garments; so you were rendered surprised when you saw how toned his upper muscles actually were; specifically his shoulders and his arms, which may have probably been a result of the years he had spent carrying that heavy, large gourd on his back.

He really was… beautiful.

Gaara has been noticing how lingering your stare was over his body for the past few minutes, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him self-conscious. He tries to diffuse his embarrassment by answering your questions in return. “Well… it does bear some emotional significance to me, since during that day, a lot of what took in place changed my life forever.”

You nodded back at Gaara, knowing exactly what he was talking about since this wasn’t really the first time he told you about what happened during the final round of the chunin exams.

“Appearance-wise…” Gaara sighed in thought, “I guess I myself don’t really mind it that much, but…” Gaara trailed off, as he was now trying to avert his gaze away from you once again. You didn’t want to inquire further, even though the curiosity was killing you. If there’s anything that Gaara solidified in you, that was improving your ever short-lived patience. You smiled at him before dropping the towel once again, squeezing the water out as you hummed.

“Let me clean your face now.” You shifted closer to Gaara, as the side of your knee was now brushing against his. Since you have to lean a little closer to him, you ended up unconsciously placing your warm palm on top of his naked thigh, the abrupt contact eliciting an inward gasp from Gaara; his shock not visible at all to you with how excellent he was in trying to bottle every reaction he has behind his usual, stoic face. What he couldn’t hide though was how his other hand was clenched in a tight fist, his thumb rubbing against his folded index finger in hopes of calming down his nerves.

You pressed a palm against his forehead before flipping back his fringe towards his head, revealing his tattoo. You dabbed the towel softly against his skin, wiping in between. “Your hair’s getting a little long, huh?”

“Should I cut it?” Gaara asked.

“Well, that is up to you to decide. I think you look handsome either way.” You pinched his cheek teasingly before wetting the towel once again. Gaara couldn’t help how racy his heart was at this moment; he was still not used to positive affirmations.

“Close your eyes.” You whispered under your breath. You folded the bath towel around your index and middle finger, as your grip on his thigh got a little tighter as you continued to inch closer towards him. You started around the area surrounding his eyes. “I really think you have gorgeous eyes.”

Gaara, despite being a nervous wreck that he was, found humor in what you just said; as a gentle, chortle of laughter left his mouth. “I have… what…”

“You don’t agree?” You pouted.

Gaara sensed a hint of sadness in your voice, and he could imagine you pouting right at that very second. “It’s just… it’s the first time I have received such compliment. It surprised me, my love.”

“Hmm… well, I think it really strikes a very interesting contrast, you know?” You mumbled, telling him that he can open his eyes now. You smiled even more as you saw the literal proof of your statement just now. “It might sound odd to you, but I think your eyebags bring out your pale, seafoam eyes better. You have such unique-colored eyes.” You smiled genuinely at him.  Gaara tried to avert his eyes from the eye contact you were now trying to initiate, but you wanted him to know this wasn’t small talk; you were genuine about it, every bit of it. “Gaara?”

“…Yes?” Gaara flinched a little when you held him by the side of his cheek as you ushered him to face you once again.

“You’re beautiful.” You whispered quietly as your face started to inch itself closer to his. Gaara shut his eyes closed in response, a soft sigh staying behind his nervously, zipped-tight lips when he felt the softness of your slight pucker against him. “You are so beautiful to me, Gaara.” You grinned against his lips before pressing a lingering peck once again. When you pulled back from the kiss, Gaara’s eyes barely fluttered open; with the evident blush staining his cheeks red. He was rendered speechless of it all, and you were nothing but understanding of it. You grabbed the folded, black shirt behind your back that you’ve fished out from the closet. Gaara was still not speaking, but he nodded in agreement when you told him that you were gonna put his shirt on for him.

“Thank you…” Gaara mumbled under his breath.

“You’re welcome.” You grinned brightly at him before standing up to place the basin at the corner of the room, telling Gaara along the lines of emptying it out tomorrow morning. “Oh, you go change into your pajamas now. I’ll stand here for a bit until you’re done, okay?”

Gaara didn’t answer, but you heard him shift from behind your back. You hummed a tune to yourself as you allowed him to finish getting dressed, adjusting your shirt and shorts as well so that you can now go back to sleep afterwards. When you heard a soft signal from Gaara telling you that he was done, you couldn’t help but giggle at how cute he looked like; all tucked up on his side of the bed. A few minutes after you settled yourself underneath the blanket as well, you decided to change your mind, as you opted to sit instead; with your back pressing against the headboard. You couldn’t help but notice how awfully quiet Gaara was, lying on his side and facing away from you; not moving at all, but his way of breathing tattle-taled that he was still awake.

“Gaara?”

“Hmm?”

“We can cuddle, if you’d like…”

“…”

Gaara shifted in his position, the rustling fabric ringing to your ears as he rotated himself to turn towards you. He propped his palm against the mattress before situating himself closer towards you, earning a surprised reaction from you with his choice of position; before having it transition into a soft, endearing smile.

His cheek was currently resting above your lap, the back of his head pressing against your stomach. He laid on his side, his knees folded so that his legs weren’t going to dangle down the edge of the bed. Gaara felt a little stiff and awkward as he still wasn’t entirely used to being this close and affectionate under his very own initiative - but a part of him… a part of him wanted to reach out towards you at the moment.

He yearned to feel your warmth against him tonight.

Gaara sighed, his thoughts mixing in with the undecisiveness of what kind of words should leave his mouth right now, in contrast to the other side of him wanting to open up, because the last thing he wanted was to get you worried over him. You caught up to his internal plight, his eyes fluttering open gently to meet yours as you combed your fingerpads through his hair, softly cooing to him that he didn’t have to talk about it if he didn’t want to.

Truth be told, the obvious lack of communication skills on his behalf paved way towards difficulties; it had been a root to some of the problems you two have encountered during the earlier onset of your relationship. Of course, you weren’t devoid of the responsibilities over the dilemmas as well, and you are very much aware of that. The innate awareness itself, and the perseverance to let each other know which issues that you two have that render setbacks on the relationship is what made your connection be continuously resilient. On your behalf, you finally understood that you should not take personal offense over his predisposition to stay silent; as it was already an internal struggle that he himself acknowledges, and tries his best to overcome in order to be a better partner for you.

With his heart touched over your reassuring gesture, Gaara reached out for your other hand, which was currently resting above his hip, and held it in front of his face, eyeing it lovingly while he fiddled with your digits, as if he wanted to feel every bleed of comforting warmth that poured out from your skin. Gaara pressed the back of your hand against his lips, giving it a gentle kiss before placing it above his cheek, as his thumb continued to press and massage against your palm to return the favor. “Would it be a bother if I were to ask you to your read your book to me, my love?”

A slight surprise graced your face, as this was the first time Gaara had requested something like that. “Of course not, Gaara.” You smiled softly at him. “Would you like me to get something that you like? Do you have anything in mind?”

“You don’t have to,” Gaara trailed off, followed by a soft, fleeting whisper,  “I just want to hear your voice…”

Your chest fluttered at what you heard, and you could almost feel your stomach dropping in an unfathomable happiness. You reached for the book beside the lamp on your nightstand, opening it on a certain page you were reading into earlier. You cleared your throat, a little nervous, yet also wanting to give it your best shot. Gaara’s eyes were closed once again, a hint of anticipation gracing his peaceful face. “Rest for the meantime, okay?”

And with a slight nod from Gaara, you started to read to him.

"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on. "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you−− the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.”

And he went back to meet the fox.

"Goodbye," he said.

"Goodbye," said the fox. "And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."

"What is essential is invisible to the eye," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

"It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important."

"It is the time I have wasted for my rose−−" said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.

"Men have forgotten this truth," said the fox. "But you must not forget it. You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose..."

"I am responsible for my rose," the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.

“You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.” You repeated with a soft smile, your eyes sneaking down a glance at Gaara through the slight gap between the bottom edge of the book and your chest; his fiery, red locks reminding you of the said vibrantly-colored flower in the story. “I am responsible for my rose.”

Before you spoke another line once again, Gaara pressed his palm against the spine of the book, hooking his index and middle finger in between the partition of the pages and pulling it softly away from you. He placed the book on the side before sitting up, the faint sigh that left his mouth fanning air against your lips.

Gaara wanted to thank you, but the shock barred himself to speak even a single syllable right at that moment. He had underestimated how close his face would be, and the short space in betweeen the two of you had robbed him off of his capacity to speak as his eyes unconsciously glanced down at your lips.

He wanted to kiss you.

He wanted to kiss you so much.

…But, he stood frozen before you, his stomach and chest tightening beyond belief as he couldn’t move even an inch to close the gap that was preventing him from feeling your lips against him. He just continued to stare, taking in every line, corner and curve of your soft, glistening pout. Gaara felt his breathing gradually quicken, as he found himself leaning closer and closer to your equally, blushing face.

“Can I kiss you?” Gaara whispered under his breath, his deep, husky voice sending shivers down your spine. “Can I kiss you, my love?” Gaara nudged his face forward towards you, basking in the emanating warmth from your face.

You nodded at him, your heart racing uncontrollably beneath your chest. “You can kiss me, Gaara.”

Gaara pulled back his face away from you, his almost shaking hand holding you by the side of your cheek, a thumb sneaking in soft strokes against your lower lip. His heart fluttered at how supple it was to the touch. He closed his eyes before leaning in towards you once again, that being the last sight before you shut your eyes in return. It wasn’t too long until you felt his lips brush gently against yours; a little hesitant, yet the intimacy of it igniting his urge to feel more. Gaara inched his lips forward with a deeper pressure; as your tender pout continued to bathe his body in a calming sense of warm solace that he couldn’t get enough of.

When he pulled back from the kiss, he immediately dove his face towards the crook of your neck, his arms sliding down on both sides of your body before wrapping them around your waist; ushering you closer for a hug. His breathing was rather erratic, slow and deep. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your hand sneaking in a soft, rub across his scalp to ease him down. “Do you want to get some sleep now, love?”

Gaara hummed vaguely in response, his tone lingering with a hint of not wanting to let go of you just yet, coinciding perfectly with the fact that he just hugged you closer towards him.

“…”

“Do you want to kiss me again?”

Gaara buried his face deeper against your warm skin.

“Yes…”

You relaxed your shoulders against the headboard, your breathing almost hitching in anticipation as Gaara pulled his face back from the curve of your neck. His eyes fell down to the side, and just before you thought he was now going to lean forward for an another kiss, Gaara nuzzled his face towards your neck once again, his hug getting a little more tighter this time.

Gaara swallowed the lump in his throat, the beat of his heart getting tighter and deeper, like he could almost feel his chest sink as every pulse got heavier and heavier. He wanted to confess that his nervousness had skyrocketed beyond reach; and he wasn’t sure he could initiate another kiss once more with his weakening resolve. His jittering nerves were getting the best of him, making him mumble soft apologies against your skin as he cuddled closer towards you.

“I can kiss you, instead… if you want to.” You whispered to his ear.

Gaara faced you once again, his eyes glassy and heavy with anticipation.

“D- do you know how to kiss,” You scratched your index finger against your cheek embarrassingly before trying to meet his nervous gaze once again. “with our mouths open? Y- you know, using our… tongue.” The last word seemed to evaporate into thin air, as Gaara’s blush grew a deeper hue. “Don’t worry,” You chuckled nervously as you tried to comfort him. “I- It’s not like I’m an expert on that or anything. I have just… read about it,” You cleared your throat. “from the books I have.”

“I’m sorry… My lack of experience…” Gaara closed his eyes with a sigh.

“Hey,” You placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “like I said, I have only read about it. I don’t know how it’ll actually be like in real life, or something…”

“You can… you can practice on me, if you’d like.”

You shot Gaara a surprised look in response to his newfound tone of voice. Despite being a flustered mess of pink and red, there was an evident determination in his face. “I want to learn about it, and I want to be able to… please you. So… if you may, as long as you’re comfortable… let me be your guest.”

You nodded at Gaara, “…Uhm, can I sit on your lap?” You mumbled softly.

With an anxious swallow and a shaky nod, Gaara piled three pillows against the headboard before laying on his back comfortably beside you. You thanked him under your breath before letting a sharp sigh of self-encouragement rip from your chest. Gaara couldn’t help but mentally curse inwardly to himself when he felt your supple body press down on him.

“Nervous?” You giggled, both asking Gaara and yourself to ease the tension just a little bit. “Our first makeout session, huh?”

Gaara gasped when you shifted your position, as inching closer towards him paved way for your crotch to grind briefly against his. He clenched his fists tight in hopes of not getting a hard on and making you uncomfortable.

“I’ll start now.”

You placed both of your hands on both sides of his cheek, giving him a soft, endearing smile of encouragement as you dove your face slowly towards him. Both of your eyes weren’t entirely closed; just enough for it to have a small peek of where both of your lips would land on. You pressed a teasing kiss upon his upper lip; pulling back a bit before brushing another peck against his lower lip this time. With a smile, you planted a full kiss on his soft pout; the pressure gradually increasing as Gaara tried his best to respond bit by bit.

“Open your mouth,” You whispered under your breath. Gaara swallowed nervously before allowing a slight gap part his lips in between. “if it feels too weird, just tell me, okay?”

“Mhm..” Gaara answered.

With your drooping eyes trained on his pucker, you inched your face forward, slowly sneaking in your tongue inside his wet cavern, eliciting a soft whimper from your lover. You ushered your body forward, as you leaned in for a deeper kiss; the teasing exploration of your tongue inside Gaara’s mouth not getting intense any time soon with how tensed he was beneath you.

You pulled back from the kiss with a soft grin on your face.

“So…” You asked shyly, “I- I guess that’s how it goes?”

Gaara hummed in thought, brushing his forearm against face as he was still processing what just happened.

There was rather an awkward silence brewing between the two of you, as Gaara’s gaze was fixed on everything but towards you. He couldn’t help it, his heart felt like it was going to somersault out of his ribcage at that very moment, and the fact that you were so close to him for the very first time was just adding fuel to the fire.

“We should get some rest,” You cooed. “There’s no rush about this, alright?”

“N- no, I-“ Gaara cleared his throat immediately, as his immediate disagreement made him blush even harder. “I can still manage, Y/N.”

“Are you sure?”

Gaara nodded in response.

With a soft smile, you ushered your face closer again, your heart beating faster and faster as you got closer to his haze-lost face. Gaara was surprised when you landed your lips upon the corner of his mouth, his confusion spiralling tighter when you started peppering pecking kisses across his cheeks. “Making out isn’t really just about open-mouthed kisses.” You whispered in between, as your other hand went to stroke the other side of his face adoringly. “There are other sensitive spots in our bodies that we can… please, like… here…” You kissed the spot below his ear, tracing the outer shell of it with slow, teasing kisses; enveloping Gaara in a shudder; which was suddenly reciprocated by your own body in return when you felt his hand travel down your spine as he loosely gripped you in place by your waist. You mapped a trail of kisses downwards once again, his grasp getting briefly tighter as your lips got lower and lower down his neck. You halted for a minute, the sensation he’s been feeling not stopping even for a bit as he still felt stimulated by your hot breathe tickling the skin of his neck. “Can I suckle on your neck?”

Gaara’s face had never felt so hot, the heat was nothing in comparison to even the hottest rays under the sun in Suna that has been reflecting over his face for years.

“Yes...” Gaara mumbled as he pressed his face against the plane of your shoulder.

You brushed a gentle pucker against your chosen spot, peppering it with endearing reassurance. Gaara shuddered once more when he felt your hand ran upwards his spine; a barely audible gasp leaking past his mouth as he felt your fingertips rake through the base of his scalp, your fingers slowly threading through his locks as you tilted his face sidewards with a soft grip. With a whispered warning, you took in the skin of his neck into your mouth, suckling on it softly and kissing it in between before sucking it once again a little harder with every try.

“Ahh, Y/N…”

…

Your heart felt like it missed a beat.

“Did I hear that right?” You whispered breathily to his ear. “Was that a moan?”

Gaara nodded bashfully in response.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes…” Gaara mumbled under his breath. “Y- you’re so… good at this.”

“It doesn’t stop here just yet.” There was a faint smirk on your face. “There’s so much more you’ve yet to see,” You could feel Gaara’s labored breathing against you, his breathing hitching for worse when you brushed your crotch against his on purpose. “so much more you’ve yet to feel…”

“Y/N…”

“You can touch me too, if you like…” You mumbled suggestively, as you placed your hand on top of his hand that was resting upon your waist, giving it a soft brush of contact before dragging it under your shirt, the warm skin contact of his palm brushing against your bare skin making you bite your lip subtly in response.

You pulled back your face from the curve of his neck, initiating an effort to meet his shaky gaze once again. “Do you want to see me, Gaara?”

And with a nervous nod from your lover, you pulled your shirt over your head.

You reached for the clasp behind your back, unclasping it rather a little shakily as you were also nervous as well. You were kind of thankful that Gaara wasn’t there to notice how long you have been taking off the damned fabric off of you, as he was enveloped in a bashful shell of himself; with his eyes drifting towards the side out of respect.

With a satisfied sigh, you quickly placed your forearm below your chest in support before tossing the bra to the side.

“Y- you can look now…”

Gaara felt like the air he was barely breathing in was now taken away from him completely.

You quickly grabbed the discarded shirt, covering yourself in a frazzled mumble of words.

He was quiet, he was too quiet; his rapid breathing was the only response you were hearing from him and you would be lying if you said that the lack of verbal reaffirmations from him didn’t affect you at all. When Gaara caught up with how he might have made you feel, he quickly snapped back to his senses. Through his crippling bashfulness, he managed to look directly into your eyes.

…And with an adoring smile, Gaara spoke once again.

“You look so beautiful, my love.”

Gaara might be beyond a nervous wreck at this point, but so were you. He couldn’t help but coo soft apologies in reference to this thought, as he felt like all he did was sit back and let you do the work. You reassured him that it wasn’t anything like that, that it’s only natural to be high-strung at that moment since both of you had not done this before.

“Please,” Gaara said, although his voice was soft and endearing, you could still tell the deep-seated determination behind it. “if you’re comfortable with it… please, tell me how I could make you feel good.”

You tossed the shirt to the side once again.

“W- wait, let me… let me reposition myself a little bit, my love.” Gaara mumbled, as the squeeze of his hand placed on your waist got a little firmer in response to the movement. He straightened his back once more, allowing him to have a better posture; with a nod, you started to search for his other hand.

You guided his tad bit shaky hand towards your left breast, a soft sigh exiting your mouth as you felt the warm contact of his palm upon your nakedness. You tried to meet Gaara’s eyes, but a nervous tick sent him down staring intently down his directed hand as the brief eye contact with your heavy-lidded eyes sent shivers down his spine.

“Feel the weight of it first,” You mumbled. “Start slowly, allow your… fingers to wrap around the roundness of it…”

Gaara nodded studiously as he took mental notes deep into his brain. He was starting to get more comfortable around it, as the urge to please you was starting to get ahead of his tensing nerves.

“That’s it… Gradually increase the firmness of your grasp… Ahh.” You moaned softly under your breath, as Gaara’s firmer ministrations started to send jolts of pleasure down the rest of your body. Gaara felt like his breathing halted momentarily, but he knew better this time. You were now starting to feel good under his touch, and he would stop at nothing to ensure he wouldn’t keep you away from feeling that way.

“T- Touch my other breast too…”

With a swallow, Gaara followed through, repeating exactly what he had learned previously.

You tried your best to tone down your voice, but another pleasure-soaked moan ripped from your heaving chest as Gaara continued to play through his ministrations. He watched you in awe, as you stared lustfully down at your breast being toyed with by his very own hands. You knew he was starting to feel good as well, as you started to feel his protuding erection across your clothed slit.

“Wet your thumb with your tongue, Gaara.” The way you moaned his name at the very end of your sentence made him curse inwardly to himself. Gaara extended the tip of his tongue, licking the pad of his thumb diligently until it was appropriately wet. You propped your palms behind your back, placing them above Gaara knees as you arched back a little, allowing him to have a fuller view of your naked, upper body.

A budding, lustful sigh leaked past Gaara’s lips. Somehow, he did have a vague idea in regards to what was going to follow past your previous instruction, so out of instinct, Gaara rested his palm upon the side of your breast, and with a swift motion, Gaara brushed his lubricated thumb against your nipple, eliciting a sweeter moan from you.

“Not only a fast learner; you’re also quite the intuitive one, are you?” You mumbled with a smirk.

Gaara smirked back briefly, before wetting his other thumb to reflect the exact ministration on your other breast.

“Ohh, Gaara.”

Gaara flicked both of his thumbs teasingly, side to side, upon your now stiffening nub. Not depending entirely on your instruction alone anymore, Gaara went through his instinct as he rubbed the pads of his thumb in circular motions against your nipples; dragging out a drawn out, blissful mewl of his name from your lips as you started to unconsciously dig your nails against the skin of his thighs.

“Gaara, that feels so-“

Gaara’s hands went down your waist and without any foreword, he yanked you closer towards him, earning a surprised yelp from you.

“Can… can I put it in my mouth?” Gaara breathed heavily beneath you, his eyes glassy with impending lust. You raked your fingernails softly across both sides of his head, planting shivers all over his body at how stimulating it felt like for his hair to be played with like that.

“I’d love that…”

With a slight, nervous sigh, Gaara stared at your nub, a hint of curiosity pooling on his seafoam eyes. Gaara pressed a soft kiss on your left breast, his lips tiptoeing towards the other one as he kissed it just as endearingly. “You’re so… perfect, Y/N.”

Your chest and your stomach fluttered at his whispered compliments, as he continued to admire every bit of your nakedness.

“You look so beautiful, my love…”

You pressed a soft kiss against his head, as his utmost adoration continued to weaken every fiber of composure within your body… and after the lingering stare between the two of you, Gaara tightened his grip on your waist before parting his wet mouth; enveloping your nipple lovingly into his wet cavern.

Gaara shifted in his position, straightening his back better against the cushion of the pillow as the way he folded his knees towards his body elevated you a little, allowing you to tower over him even more. Gaara took back his mouth only to dive his face forward to your other teat, moaning adoringly against your naked nipple. Gaara used his forefinger and his thumb to stimulate your other nub in circles, eliciting strings of mewls from your mouth as you continued to moan his name selfishly.

“That’s so good, that feels so good,” You groaned above him, a blissful sight of you being thoroughly watched by Gaara as he shot his gaze towards your mewling stance.

Sneaking past your rational thoughts, your hips began to grind itself against his body on its own, as the pleasure of getting your tits suckled and toyed with by your eager lover’s mouth continued to stir your lust for worse. You pulled on Gaara’s hair, tilting his face upwards to face you, and with a swift motion, you initiated an open-mouthed kisses against his soft pout; your body feeling like you’re being enveloped in a feverish sensation as you continued to swirl his tongue around his mouth. “Touch me down there too…” You whispered in between your sloppy kisses as you redirected both of Gaara’s hand to fumble down your lower back, before shoving it under your shorts. The fabric was loose enough to give Gaara an ample room to massage and squeeze your backside, with the relaxing gesture passing a pleasured moan from your mouth to his. Gaara rubbed his palms across the roundness of your ass in circles before giving it a firm squeeze. The way he was touching you at the moment almost overwhelmed him to a certain point.

You shoved Gaara deeper into the pillow fort behind his back, lapping your tongue inside his mouth, eagerly intertwining it with his own; which was guided by his slight nervous attempt to kiss you back just as passionately. You smiled against Gaara, encouraging him with your soft whispers of approval in between your kisses, making his stomach flutter in a mix of slowly diminishing self-consciousness and the brewing desire to please you more.

You pressed your lips harder against him, deepening your sloppy kiss as you raked your nails through his messy, red hair; making Gaara shudder against you. You pressed your body closer against him, pinning and pinning him deeper into headboard. Dragging your lips past the corner of his lips, you planted pecking kisses towards his ear. “I’d like to… try something.” You whispered breathily, the hot air sending shivers down his spine.  

“W- what do you have in mind, my love?” Gaara asked back breathily.

“You need… stimulation down there as well, right?”

Gaara swallowed the lump in his throat with a slight, wide pair of eyes; processing exactly what you were trying to insinuate.

“I want to make you feel good too, Gaara.” You mumbled blushingly. With a coy smile, you started to grind your clothed slit across Gaara’s stiffened arousal; and the way it got harder and harder with every thrust almost sent you towards the edge.

“Do you want me to touch you down there, love?”

Gaara, although a little hesitant due to his embarrassment, nodded through his bashful stance; as he would be lying if he said that the way his cock throbbed harder beneath you wasn’t starting to feel a little touch-starved.

Gaara left a final, parting squeeze on your backside before allowing you to shift your position; as you were now sitting beside him, your palm propped upon his other thigh to support your composure. “Can I?”

Gaara nodded again with a soft agreement leaving his mouth. You hooked your fingers into the waistband of pajamas before peeling it off of him completely, leaving him in nothing but a new, dark gray boxer shorts. Despite being the one who’s pulling the reins at the moment, you were indeed just as anxious as your lover; as both of you tiptoed towards your very first sexual interaction with one another. Nevertheless, the trust that both of you had for each other made it easier to settle in comfortably under one’s touch, and as foreign as it may be, it still felt like there was a strong, innate connection that bounded you and Gaara together; an undeniable bond that envelops you and your lover in a sense of solace despite showing each other’s naked vulnerabilities.

Everything just feels like… it was meant to happen.

With Gaara’s notice, you slowly undressed him from the lone, remaining fabric that was covering his body; making you flinch in surprise when his aroused cock snapped against the spot just below his clothed navel. You couldn’t help but swallow in anticipation. You left his boxer shorts just above his knees; so that if ever he feels the need to cover himself up, he’d have no trouble looking for his clothing. Gaara couldn’t help but smile to himself warmly with your caring gesture.

You rested your palm upon it, making you gasp slightly with the contact. “Wow, it’s… hot. I mean, it’s hot to the touch... I- It’s so warm?” You stuttered confusingly.

“Y- yes… it really is like that.” Gaara stuttered back nervously with a pleasured sigh, as you used the area between your thumb and index finger to rub against his throbbing cock, the silhouette of his hardness pressing a defined outline against the skin of his lower abdomen igniting a fire of arousal in his body as he was continuously reminded of how rigid his dick was under your touch.

“Oh? It’s wet up here…” You mumbled curiously as you brushed your thumb against the tip of his cock, making Gaara moan softly as you rubbed the pad of your finger against it in circles.

“Ahh… i- it happens… when I am aroused.”

Truth be told, the way you were looking at his cock with wonder in your eyes made his cock even harder. How you looked nervous and in awe at the same time as you took in the sight of his stiffened cock made him choke on his own breath.

“Do you play with yourself?”

Gaara’s breathing hitched after hearing your question, seemingly not knowing exactly how to answer it as his shock sent his brain into a haywire. A minute or two later, he seemed to retrieve back a sense of himself, as he was now trying to conjure up an answer to satiate your curiosity.

“Before I met you… I only saw it as a way of releasing… pent up stress. B- but when I got to know you, and my affections for you started to develop more and more, I…” Gaara sighed, as his nerves started to shake him up once again. Deep inside, a possible answer did plague him as to why sharing his deepest thoughts felt so difficult; maybe it was related to the fact that he doesn’t talk about himself as much as other people tend to do. He appreciates hearing other people’s thoughts and feelings, and finds comfort that they trust him to tell him those kind of things, but for him to open up himself was still a little off to him.

It was different with you. Other people would just go off and respect Gaara’s wishes not to talk about himself, and proceed to an almost one-sided conversation with Gaara just nodding in response. You always asked him, you always wanted to know more about him, but in a way that was not laced with any ounce of condescending pressure at all. Your words were calculated enough to encourage him, not to force him. He found comfort in the slight taste of curiosity that you offered to him, and in a way, it had made him much more open in regards to his thoughts and feelings.

Despite of being a nervous wreck at the moment, and as much as how embarrassed he was to admit it to himself, Gaara wanted to continue the conversation. A part of him wanted to selfishly indulge in it. He just needed a little breathing in between to get through it.

“I found myself… thinking about you. T-  thinking a lot about you, actually…” Gaara’s heavy-lidded gaze landed upon his cock being stroked softly against his abdomen, and the way you looked so encouragingly gentle on the contrary of literally playing with his cock at the moment was almost a complex combination of funny yet sexy in his view. “We were still friends at that time, and I… I actually felt guilty about it… because I was starting to have inappropriate thoughts about you, and I just… Y/N…” Gaara moaned your name, no longer able to continue, as the way you were stimulating him at that moment and the added effort of opening up for someone as private as him rendered him speechless.

“Just sit back and relax, love.” You cooed, as you wrapped a full fist around his pulsing dick, pumping your fist up and down as you found yourself leaning your face closer and closer towards it, taking in the sight of the muscle throbbing within the hollow of your fist.

“Gaara?”

“Y- yes?”

“Do you know oral sex?”

Gaara’s eyes were wide in surprise as soon as he heard what seems to be a potential proposition you could be speaking of minutes later. A thought so alienatingly foreign, yet somehow, he had already envisioned you doing it while he jerked off his cock deep into the sleepless night of having nothing but fervent, erotic thoughts about you.

Oral sex, huh?

He had read about it, probably twenty pages into that green book that the sixth Hokage himself; Hatake, Kakashi, gave him during his diplomatic visit in Sunagakure before opening his cabinet and shoving it inside out of panic.

…But through his jittering nerves, he did pick up the book from the shelf to take it home, and the provocative imagery that the book embedded into his innocent mind as he took in sentences of nothing but pure, lustful sex, did make his trousers tight in response.

The deeper he got into the book, the more he didn’t realize that he was already stroking his cock while he laid back on the comfort of his couch, legs spread open, back pressed against the cushion sluggishly as he continued to pump his fist slowly up and down his throbbing dick, moaning your name in between the wet, skin slapping noises that ripped through the silence of his house.

In his mind, you were enthusiastically bobbing your head up and down in between his thighs.

“I am… I am aware of it.”

You gulped in response, as the sight of the tip of his cock starting to glisten more with the erupting lust from his cock ignited a hunger inside you, and with letting your instincts tore through, you wrapped your other fist in his cock, before taking in the one where your thumb is wet his pre-cum, and putting it in your mouth to taste.

“Shit.” Gaara shut his eyes closed in an exasperated arousal.

“Do you want to know how it feels?” You whispered seductively, as you placed your dominant hand once again to pump his cock up and down.

“A- are you comfortable with it?” Gaara asked with concern despite the lustful haze he was starting to get lost in.

“I am,” A small smirk made its way on your lips. “I want to… I want to wrap my mouth around it.”

“Around… what?” Gaara asked, eliciting a surprised reaction not only from you, but from himself as well.

“Around your huge, throbbing cock.” You teased, earning another yet breathy cuss from Gaara.

Just before you were about to take his throbbing member into your mouth, Gaara whispered your name softly to tug on your attention, and you were met by the utter gentleness in his eyes. Gaara tucked a stray hair behind your ear, before allowing his thumb to brush across your cheek. “You don’t have to do it… if you don’t want to… okay? You’re the one who gets to decide what you want to do, my love… You can stop anytime you want to, do not mind me at all.”

Your chest fluttered at his caring reminder. “Thank you, Gaara…” You leaned towards him, as you pressed another peck of kiss upon his lips. “Don’t forget about yourself too, alright? If you want me to stop, tell me right away, okay?”

Gaara nodded with a smile as he thanked you back softly in return. After telling him to lay down and relax, you started to trace a trail of downward kisses from his jaw, and down his sensitive neck. You peppered the plane of his collarbone with gentle pecks in between telling him how perfect he was. Gaara’s flushed face was angled towards the ceiling, his breathing a little loud and laboured as he tried to meet your gaze after telling him to look at you. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, love. Every inch of you is more than perfect to me.”

“Y/N…” A shocked, breathy gasp escaped his lips when you flicked the side of your index finger against his nipple.

“Too ticklish?” You asked gently, getting an embarrassed nod from Gaara as he tried to cover half of his face with his forearm. “That’ll be reserved for next time…” You mumbled with a smirk, making Gaara shudder as his thoughts began to run wild.

“I- I didn’t say I didn’t like it… I was just-“ Gaara parted his thighs apart, the ample space it resulted to allowing you to rest down on your breasts and stomach comfortably.  I- uhm, is your position comfortable? Don’t hesitate to tell me if you need a pillow, or if you want me to… uh change my position...” He mumbled caringly. You nodded at him, reassuring your anxious lover that everything’s fine at the moment, there was no need to worry.

“Ready?” You asked with a slight, coy smile on your face, as you eyed the sopping wet tip of his cock while you sluggishly pumped your fist up and down his shaft. With a breathy moan alongside a nod from Gaara, you started to get down on your business.

You extended the tip of your tongue, pressing it flat against the underside; dragging your tongue back and forth before encircling it around the circumference of his pink, sensitive tip. Your fist remained as a slight grip around the base of his cock, with your index finger and thumb wrapping a loose, jerking off motion so that he doesn’t get too overwhelmed right away. As the encircling stimulation of your tongue got lower and lower, that was when you decided to take in the whole, pulsing tip into your wet mouth; earning another breathy gasp of your name from Gaara.

You allowed the soft, innerside of your pout to envelop the tip in a gradually tightening massage, sneaking your tongue in between the slight, back and forth motions of your head. Your attention was caught by the sound of rustling fabric, with your eyes falling down on to the side; only to see Gaara’s knuckles turning white as he placed a tight grip on the sheets in response to the bliss you were serving him. With the free hand that was resting above his thigh at the moment, you reached for his hand, brushing your palm above the back of it before intertwining your fingers in between his digits, pulling it over to rest it above his thighs as you placed your palm flat down above it.

His lower lip gradually dropped down in anticipation, as he locked his eyes upon the sight of your face, slowly taking in his arousal deep into your wet mouth. He gasped even louder when you didn’t bother stopping midway, as you went on to take whole length of his cock deeper and deeper into you, only halting when a loud, gagging sound ripped through the dead silence of the bedroom. You allowed yourself to choke around his dick once, twice, before releasing it with a lustful pop right before Gaara’s eyes, the teasing hint of euphoria of your airway being cut off making you mewl his name dirtily as you tried your best to chase your breath. Gaara’s whole body bathed itself in prortruding goosebumps, a reaction you saw yourself after seeing his thighs covered with the said bodily reaction.

Just before Gaara gets to speak a query of concern, you fixed your hair out of the way before diving his cock right into your mouth once again; as you have now decided to put an end in your teasing touch. You gripped the tip of his cock around the inner swell of your pout in place as you pumped your fist up and down the body of his dick; allowing your face to gradually dip downwards, your mouth slowly taking in more areas to suck and lick on while the rest of what’s yet to follow was still stimulated by the hollow of your fist.

“Y/N… w-what are you doing… ahh…” Gaara moaned helplessly before you as the increasing bliss continued to send jolts of euphoria down the rest of his body. “That feels… so good…” He felt so embarrassed to be mewling like this, but what you were doing with him at the moment, toying on his cock expertly just had him crumbling apart desperately under your touch. Gaara hastily sat up from having his back leaning against the pillows, with his palms now propped flat against the mattress on opposites sides of his body in hopes of supporting his diminishing composure. He shut his eyes closed, but a part of him wanted to take a peek on the real life counterpart itself of what he has been lewdly jerking off to for months. There were so many aspects of such acts that no amount of heavily-vivid imagination could ever come close, details that he took in carefully and mindfully.

Apart from the mind-wrecking sensation itself of having his cock be sucked off by his beloved, the consorting sounds it bears alongside with aroused him beyond anything. The way you breathed out helplessly as you release his cock with a pop, looking up to him with gently-innocent, yet ironically lustful eyes as if you were silently asking for further reaffirmation to settle down that you were making him feel good just drives him towards the edge. The sound of spit, rub, slurp and choke; the raw sound of wet-slapping skin as you jerked his rock hard cock before your flushed, glistening face, only to swallow his dick whole once again robbed him off of the capacity to communicate.

“I don’t think I-“ An uncontrolled moan interjected at his crippling ability to speak, as the established pace of your head bobbing up and down his sopping wet member started to tighten his lower abdomen in a familiar, addicting sensation. This was it, this was the feeling that he finds himself losing even the slightest ounce of rational thought. He folded up his thigh while the other remain rested upon the mattress. You frantically searched for his hand, placing it above your head and instructing him to lock his fingers in your hair. Gaara didn’t want to inflict pain on you, so he wrapped a loose fist of your locks, his fingerpads sneaking in to rub against your scalp in hopes of returning the smallest amount of favor in contrast to what you were doing with his cock at the moment.

He finds himself shuddering even more, as the wet, gulping sounds of your mouth coming down on his dick up and down continued to get louder and desperate with every down and upwards thrust. With a nervous swallow, Gaara tried to look down at you; and a barely audible cuss left his salivating mouth.

The increasing knot of impending orgasm in Gaara’s lower abdomen started to get tighter and tighter; his body jerking out of shock when you slyly brushed a thumb across his nipple once again. You stared at him back, giving him a sly wink before focusing on the task at hand once again. As you felt your jaw starting to get sore, you pulled his cock out of your mouth; jerking him off with your now, sloppy wet fist as you pressed his now overly sensitive tip against your tongue. Gaara’s chest was now heaving up and down desperately, his face angled towards the ceiling as his mouth gaped in utter, pure bliss. He looked back at you once again, and despite his blurring, lusftul gaze being blocked by strays of his messy, red hair, he saw how you arched your back, with your body now bending over erotically before his feasting eyes; and before any word of warning could have ever leave his panting mouth, you felt the tip of his cock pulse uncontrollably against your wet tongue; only to be followed by streaks of hot, thick cum jolting out of his convulsing arousal.

Your eyes widened in shock, as you look up towards Gaara whose face was contorted in what seemed to be nothing but raw and primal look of euphoria upon his flushed, open-mouthed face; an interjecting moan of bliss ripped from his heaving, sweating chest as his body convulsed against you. Gaara tried to pull away out of embarrassment, and the said gesture had only resulted to his what remains of his cum being milked down by his drawn out throbbing orgasm to paint a streak across your cheek; making you widen your eyes even more as Gaara continued to cum all over your face and your hair. Out of an instinctive flight response, Gaara quickly grabbed the pillow behind him, covered his face with it, and slumped down his back on the mattress.

As surprised as you were; the blur of Gaara’s muffled curses and heavy breathing against the pillow started to ring clearer towards your ears; his bashful response making you chuckle in return. You squeezed yourself beside Gaara, sneaking your hand underneath the pillow he had been covering himself up before hugging him from his side; your thigh placed above his as you relaxed your face against the supple pillow. “Are you okay?”

“…”

Gaara couldn’t still bring himself to talk, but with a soft, “I’ll be back.” He placed the pillow gently beneath your thigh in replacement of his as he stood up from the bed, yanking his boxer shorts upwards before confusingly walking outside the room. You wanted to ask him if he was okay, but he was so panickingly quick that even before you get to a speak a single syllable, he has already bolted outside the door.

“So that’s what it tasted like…” You thought to yourself, as a feverish flush painted your cheeks warm; your stomach coiling bashfully as your buried your face deep into the pillow. You weren’t going to lie, giving Gaara his very first blowjob was something you have been thinking about before. The thought itself alone was fervently erotic, but the literal act itself that just took place earlier was beyond anything your mind could have ever muster. How he moaned your name breathily as you slurped his cock into your mouth sent you addiciting shivers down your spine.

You snaked a palm down your stomach, your curious fingers inching and inching closer towards your arousal; you sneaked your digits underneath the constricting fabric of your shorts and your underwear; and you cussed inwardly as your fingerpads were met by how sopping wet your slick was. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts before lifting your ass from the mattress and swiftly discarding the said article of clothing off of you and tossing it on the floor.

Fuck, sucking your lover’s cock was indeed arousing.

Just after cleaning your face off of Gaara’s cum with your discarded shirt, Gaara entered the bedroom once again, both his hands busy as he carried a glass of water and a dessert plate on the other hand… containing a slice of… cake?

Gaara awkwardly tiptoed his way towards the bed. He placed the glass and the plate on top of the nightstand, his gaze and smile endearing yet still so… shaky. A soft creak of the bed responded as he sat on the edge of the mattress, facing you directly while you were now leaning your back against the headboard, your upper naked body covered up by the soft, fluffy pillow. Gaara placed his palm on top of your hand that was resting on your lap, his thumb giving an encircling rub. "I… uhm… I got you something.” Gaara mumbled under his breath. “I- I know that the taste of semen isn’t entirely too pleasing as I have tasted mine b- before-“ He almost choked on the last word of his sentence as he realized what he just said, making him whisper an almost inaudible “what am I saying?” to himself as he rubbed both of palms against his cheeks out of frustration.

Choosing not to inquire further to spare him the additional embarrassment, you chuckled to yourself as you reached out for the glass of water, drinking it halfway through before returning it on top of the nightstand once again; letting a satisfied sigh rip from your chest after the chill rehydration. “Thank you so much, Gaara. This was very nice of you.”

You leaned your body towards the nightstand, allowing Gaara to see the naked, graceful curve of your back as you unintentionally bent over before him, as you only wanted to have a bite or two of the cake; the decadence yet the muted sweetness of it rolling nicely upon your tongue. You sliced the fork into the dessert, placing a cupping palm below it in case it falls as you shuffled your way through the bed; facing Gaara once again.

“Have a bite, too.” You smiled softly at him.

Gaara’s blush grew a deeper hue, his eyes falling down to the side as he opened his mouth slightly to take in the slice of cake into his mouth. He chewed slowly as you watched him curiously while you took another sip of water before handing it to him so he could cleanse his palate as well; earning a soft worded gratitude from him.

You folded your thighs towards your chest, leaning your chin down against your forearms that was resting above your knees as you continued to gaze at him, and Gaara couldn’t help but be even more fidgety under your stare. “Gaara?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

Gaara sighed before nodding slowly in response. “Yes… yes, I am. I’m really sorry… I’m just flustered.”

“Really? Why?” You inquired gently.

“It’s… it’s my first time. A- and I know that it’s your first time too… It’s just… it felt so good.” Gaara trailed off, as he gathered his scrambled thoughts with a sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m just worried that I’m going to end up doing something wrong, or in my case at the moment… I already did something wrong… I’m really sorry, my love.”

“Gaara…”

This time, you held his hand, tugging on his attention as his quivering stare tried to meet your eyes once again. Your eyes were full of warmth, a very inviting sense of care that he couldn’t help but be drawn to; and before he even realizes it, he has already pressed a soft kiss against your forehead. He closed his eyes, savoring the emotions he was bathing himself as he continued to display such adoring act that you utmostly deserved.  

“There’s nothing you should be saying sorry for.” You held his hand, brushing soft strokes against it before leaning your face closer to kiss it gently. “Also, please remember that we’re not in a hurry. We can always take our time.”

Gaara nodded with a sigh, his eyes expressing what seem to be a tad bit of loneliness and disappointment in himself.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You whispered carefully, following  up with another statement in order to reduce the pressure on your lover. “If you don’t want to, that would be fine as well… we can just cuddle and sleep. If you do need some space to think about it, I wouldn’t mind that, too. Anything you choose to do would be fine, okay? Anything, love.”

Gaara’s eyes softened, his heart and stomach warming and tightening up in a coil as he couldn’t help but feel so vulnerably comfortable with you.

Your eyes widened out of curiosity when you saw Gaara peel his shirt off of his body, only to put it over your head as he gently reached out for each of your hand to assist it towards the armholes of the clothing. “Thought you might start feeling cold…” Gaara mumbled with a soft smile on his face as he continued to gaze at you with a pair of adoring eyes.

“But now… you’ll feel cold.” You poked his naked, toned chest teasingly.

“Not entirely so.” Gaara chuckled. “Because I know you’ll be here all night to keep me warm.” He mumbled with a genuine smile on his face before reaching out for the blanket on the bedroom floor and covering himself from the back before tackling you down on the mattress playfully as both you giggled under the fabric.

“I’ll keep you warm for the rest of my life,” You whispered softly as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders before pressing a kiss on top of his head; his face nestled in between your now clothed breasts. Gaara eyes widened after hearing such words, and with the overpouring gentleness and warmth that you continue to generously offer to him, he couldn’t help but close his eyes to allow himself to bask it in; in ardent hopes that your affections was something he truly deserved. To be adored and cared for in ways that he had given up on a long time ago as means of atonement, he was still far from being forgiving of himself at the moment; but your adoring words, your caring gestures had allowed him to warm up to such idea bit by bit.

You made him feel that he was worth loving after all; and in a complex, innate response that he somehow ends up feeling; he begins to love himself a little more than he’s been robbing himself of for so long.

Every ounce of emotions that he has tried to repress for so long started to gush through his system; and it placed him in a spiralling haywire of everything else in a blur in exception of you.

You.

You…

“I love you.” He thought to himself as his hands started to travel underneath your shirt, his lips peppering soft, pecking kisses towards your neck as he mirrored it himself how you shuddered beneath him when you traced the length of his naked spine upwards to his nape with soft scratch of your nails. “I love you.” The words never left his mouth as he continued to spoke it inwardly, all alone in himself to hear such confessions, “I love you, Y/N. I love you so much it almost hurts to say it.”

With his eyes heavy and his breathing labored, Gaara brushed his lips teasingly against your wet pucker; taking his time slowly as traced the outline of your lower lip with pecking kisses. With a soft sigh, Gaara closed his eyes gently as he leaned his face forward. He suckled on your lower lip; and with a gentle bite that parted your mouth ever so slightly, Gaara inserted his tongue inside your mouth.

Oh, how he fought through his nerves.

Gaara placed his thumb and forefinger above your chin, his other hand resting above the side of your face. Gaara halted the kiss for a second, his heavy-lidded gaze taking in the sight of you before shoving himself towards you once again. You felt his thumb stroke your cheek softly as his middle and ring finger brushed gently against the skin of your ear; the endearing gesturing weakening your composure even more as you found yourself succumbing to his affectionate kiss. His tongue unraveled the depths of your mouth with a slow, loving pace; striking an interesting contrast, as despite his hunger for you, Gaara couldn’t help but still find himself savoring you as if he would never, ever run out of all the time in this world.

The longer his kiss dragged on, the more he realized that it was as if the gentle taste of your wet mouth imprinted a soul-numbing addiction into him. And if you were to directly ask Gaara about it, he knew damn well that beyond the red face and the shaky effort to avoid your penetrating gaze, he’s just too honest to deny that he’s beyond smitten at this point, and the lone thought that he only he could conjure right at this moment is you, and the fact that both of you were basically making out with each other inside his bedroom.

With a firm suck on your tongue, Gaara released you from his fervent, smothering kiss; a smile cracking on his lips as he pressed his forehead against you.

“Am I deemed to be lacking in your standards, or do I somehow… pass just enough?” Gaara chuckled.

“Don’t sell yourself too short now.” You giggled back, sneaking in a pinch on his cheek to tease him. “You’re an amazing kisser. You’re already beyond skilled, to be honest.”

“Really?” Gaara’s cheeks were now rose-colored in bashfulness, as your compliments never failed to make his heart race.

You nodded at him encouragingly, embedding a deeper smile on his lips.

“I love you.” You whispered lovingly to him.

Gaara shut his eyes closed as he felt his chest tightened.        

“Don’t say it again, not now; not yet.” He pleaded silently to himself.

It scares him.

It scares him so much at how weak feels like, at how needy he was of your love.

It scares him, it scares him so much.

“Please, not now.”

“I love you, Gaara,” You mumbled with the most endearing smile he had seen in the entirety of his life.

Gaara shut his eyes closed, squinting his lids tighter and tighter in hopes of cutting off the impending tears that was starting to swell in both corners of his eyes. His eyes were now glassy and heavy, as he started to smother needy, pecking kisses all over your face, down the path of your jaw; licking and suckling on the skin of your neck in shallow and deeper intervals; Gaara traced a linear path down the middle of your clothed breasts; the thin fabric of his shirt allowing a soft silhouette of your naked body underneath to show through.

Gaara threw the blanket off of his body before placing a loose grip on both sides of your hips, his thumbs sneaking a caressing touch on your skin as he began to plant kisses upon your clothed teat; the continuous surge of shudders painting the rest of your body as you arched your back a little with a soft moan when Gaara took in your fabric-covert nipple; suckling on it with a gradual increase of pressure; his face delayed yet in synonymous motion with how the tip of his tongue rolled over the nub in circles. He spat on the fabric, allowing you to feel the cold wetness of his saliva to peer through the threads. Gaara snaked his other hand upwards he placed a soft grasp above your other teat, flicking the side of his middle finger against the other nipple before wrapping it around with his index finger and thumb; encircling and tugging on it occasionally as your stiffened peak began to protrude through the fabric of his shirt.

As his hands went lower once again, hooking his thumb into the waistband of your underwear, he halted momentarily; before trying to meet your equally heavy-lidded gaze; “Can I?” He whispered ever so softly. You nodded in agreement; arching your back upwards as he began to pull away the sole, remaining fabric covering your bare body.

As bold as you may seem to be most of the time, having been seen naked by your lover for the first time had you conscious as well; as you tried to hide your worsening, flushed face underneath the cover of your forearms. As starstrucked as Gaara may be; he knew better now than to stay graveyard-silent this time; as worded expressions of adoration was something essential in establishing comfort during such acts of intimacy. With both hands, Gaara brushed his palms slowly underneath your thighs, stroking it upwards until he gripped you in place by the back of your knees. He pressed soft kisses against it, whispering stuttered, affirmations with a soft, breathy voice.

Gaara leaned downwards to brush a caressing touch against your jaw; smiling ever so gently at your adorable flusteredness. You felt him shuffle above you, and you flinched in surprise when you felt his hot breath fan against the side of your neck; as he was now laying on his side next to you.

“I figured… I should be closer towards you,” Gaara whispered into your ear. “So that you can tell me right away how you want my fingers to please you.” He mumbled breathily as he snaked his arm underneath the back of your head as means of support. “If you’ll allow me, please let me return the favor and make you feel good this time.”

You reached out for his hand that was resting above your thigh, placing it in between of your faces before giving it a soft kiss. You held his index and middle finger, a soft gasp escaping his lips as he watched you take his digits into your mouth; suckling on it with your eyes closed before fluttering them open once again, your eyes darting below you as you guided his hands towards the sopping arousal between your legs.

Gaara watched his guided digits carefully; as you parted his index and middle finger apart, before directing it to press softly up and down the outer lips of your lubricated slit. Gaara felt your arousal tense up slowly underneath his touch. You held his hand by the back of it before shyly commanding his fingers to brush briefly against the sopping center, allowing his fingerpads to trace a linear path upwards until it halted against your now, pulsing nub.

“T- that’s called the clitoris,” You mumbled shyly against him. “Penetrative foreplay such as fingering, or the penetrative act of sex itself,” You cleared your throat, “I- I guess it feels good… but the easiest way to make me cum is by rubbing my clit.” Your breathing went erratic when Gaara started to slowly rub against it under his own initiative. “It could be like… what I taught you earlier. Increase the pressure and pace gradually, do intervals with light and… ahh…” You clenched your thighs together slightly as Gaara’s skillful application of what he’s learning at the moment began to crumble you apart bit by bit. “a- and firm touches. The surrounding area might be less sensitive, but teasing in between would feel just as good,”

“Have you tried doing it on your own?” Gaara whispered, his voice sultry and deep.

“Y- yes…” You gasped softly under his touch.  “A lot…”

A grunt escaped his lips as his stomach coiled tight with the lewd imagery of you teasing your pussy with your own fingers.“C- can I kiss you?”

“Yes…” You moaned softly as he steadied his rounded, rubbing pace against your arousal, alternating between pressing up and down the sides before tracing the inner of your slick itself, only to massage your clit once again. “I- I would love that. You can also play with my breasts, if you’d like…”

Gaara shifted your body a little bit by snaking his forearm behind your upper back, propping his elbow against the mattress before elevating your body by your shoulders as you ended up inching your face closer towards his; with your panting breath now fanning directly across his lips. After a soft, fleeting kiss against your lips, Gaara whispered breathily into your ear, “Lift up your shirt for me, angel.”

You shuddered in response, biting your lips shyly as you hooked your index and middle finger into the hem of the shirt before pulling on it upwards, revealing your naked teats before his eyes. “Hold your breast closer to my mouth…” Gaara mumbled against your ear before leaning his face downwards, snuggling in the side of his face against the suppleness of your breasts before taking in the perk nipple into his hot, wet mouth; eliciting a jolt out of your quivering body. You couldn’t help but cuss under your breath with how erotic it was to the sight to hold your breast for him as he suckled on it greedily.

Everything was starting to feel like you were drowning in a euphoric trance; Gaara, as nervous as he was, was more than willing to compensate for his lack of experience by being an excellent, attentive lover, an enthusiastic one at that; with how he was working your body inside out as if he was desperate to deliver you the utmost euphoria. Every timbre of moan, gasp, a soft mewl or a lustful groan of his name in response to what he was doing, he takes in all of it calculatingly. His pace and pressure has been steady up to this point, his index and middle finger as it being continuously bathed lasciviously by your juices while he rubbed circles against your pulsing clit allowed him to start hearing soft, wet schlick noises, and how your cunt seemed get wetter and wetter by the time he started to toy with your nipples simultaneously aroused him beyond belief.

He wasn’t one for dirty talk, but at least not yet at the moment, but his genuine curiosity at how your body ticks and reacts was something he couldn’t help but wonder about.

“You’re so… wet…”

You couldn’t help but moan under his ministrations; half of it being your honest response with what he just said. “B-because… what you’re doing… it feels so good.” Your body jolted upwards when he used the hand that was holding you by your shoulders to sneak in a teasing, left-to-right flick of his index finger against your other nipple. “Gaara…”

Gaara built up his suckling on your hardened nipple before releasing it in a slow, erotic pop. “Yes, my love?”

“I want you to…” You moaned breathlessly before him as you started to rub your palm against the back of his hand once again. “I want you to finger me…”

Gaara’s breathing hitched in response, the hot air leaking past his panting, open mouth sending shivers down your spine as it continued to fan against your bare neck as he looked up to you. “How would you like me to do it?”

“Insert it slowly, just one finger at first.”

“Do you want me to proceed after every instruction, or would you like me to hear everything first-“

“Gaara.” You chuckled against him, pressing the tips of your index and middle finger to loosen the wrinkle on his forehead as his face started to get serious once again.

“I’m sorry,” He mumbled. “I’m just… worried that I might hurt you.”

“Well… slight discomfort might be something that should be expected, since… it is our first time after all… But, I mean…” You pulled your hand away from guiding his for a brief moment, tucking in a stray of hair behind his ear before pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead. “What I just want to say is, I trust you; I trust you a lot. I know that you will always take care of me no matter what.”

Gaara pouted slightly in response, as he couldn’t help but be so calm and comforted with how you talk to him like that. He just feels so at ease and loved throughout the whole process, at how understanding you were of him. “Tell me right away if you want me to stop, okay?”

You nodded at him with a smile. “I will, don’t worry.”

And with a reassuring nod from both of you at the same time, Gaara rubbed fleeting circles against your nub before slowly slipping in his index finger into your wet slick, sliding it inch by inch, with Gaara halting right at the middle. “You can go deeper.” You chuckled. Gaara followed your instruction, earning a soft sigh from you when it finally entered you fully.

“It’s so… soft.” Gaara mumbled, his voice laced with a hint of wandering curiosity.

“Yeah…” You whispered back with a sigh. “You can explore it, just be gentle and slow on making your way around.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really… since I’m very turned on at the moment…” You whispered shyly.  

“Oh.” Gaara chuckled, his voice low and deep. A slight ‘o’ shaped your pucker as a blissful mewl escaped it when Gaara started to trace gentle, stirring motions inside your pussy, having it in intervals as he also stroked the upper walls of your cunt. Gaara took your response as a positive affirmation, making him a little more confident this time.

“S- slip in… another finger…” You mewled.

Gaara looked up to you, his face mixing in both parts of hesitance and impending lust. “Are you sure?” He whispered.

You nodded at him before another yet breathy groan left your panting mouth, as he begun to slowly insert his middle finger into you; the gradual stretch that followed becoming much more evident to feel. A whispered cuss followed through when you felt Gaara grind his clothed cock slightly against your thigh, as it started to get rock hard once again.

You ran your fingers down his chest, snaking down your palm against the plane of his stomach, tracing it downwards until you felt the waistband of his boxer shorts against your fingertips. With a sly smirk, you began rubbing your palm across his boxer shorts; feeling in the silhouette of his hardening arousal protrude through the fabric, making Gaara groan in response.

“Do this,” You gestured a sluggish ‘come hither’ movement with your fingers before returning it on top of Gaara’s boxer shorts. You moaned against him when he started to follow through, going for the gesture once, twice and thrice; retreating it out to rub teasingly against your clit before doing it again and again.

Schlick.

Schlick.

Schlick.

Even Gaara’s knuckles were soaking wet at this point, and he couldn’t help but have the curiosity in regards to how the taste of your pussy would roll on his tongue if he were to insert his fingers into his mouth. Gaara retreated his fingers, inching it closer to his face; parting his index and middle finger apart to see how far would the string of your wetness stretch out. In a lusftful daze, Gaara shoved his fingers into his mouth, suckling on it fervently; licking even the smallest trace of your arousal off of his digits.

Fuck, you taste so good.

Gaara raked his fingernails through the base of your scalp with his other hand, inhaling the scent of your locks as he continued to swallow in the sound of your sopping wet cunt being fingered and rubbed by his very own fingers. A gasp escaped his lips as he felt your palm crawl down underneath his boxers, and before he could muster a mewl of your name, you were already palming the pulsing body of his cock.

“Gaara…” You mewled desperately, making him shudder in response as he kept drowning deeper in the sweet sound of your moans. “I think I’m cumming, fuck…” You darted your eyes down, your heavy-lidded gaze taking in the erotic sight of his fingers entering and disappearing back and forth inside your cunt. The pleasure was beginning to get the best of you, and it wasn’t long until it began to overtake your sense of control over your own body; as your bliss-soaked cries began to get louder and louder to consort the increasing rock of your hips, almost riding against the curved digits that was plunging inside and out of your now tightening pussy. You took your hand from Gaara’s cock, sneaking in a desperate, circular strokes against your clit to coincide with his steadied fingering, “I’m cumming, Gaara! I’m-“  and with a loud, selfish scream of your lover’s name, you bucked your hips upwards; allowing your thighs to writhe and shake as you rode the heights of your orgasm in reckless abandon, whimpering Gaara’s name again and again until you could no longer muster anything incomprehensible. “Yes, yes… ahh…” You slapped your palm against your mouth, muffling out the continous drip of cries until it almost felt like you were choking on your unspoken euphoria as the length of your orgasm continued to render your body weak and shaking.

Fuck.

That felt so good…

“Y/N…”

Gaara was in shock.

His face might not reflect it at the moment, but he was genuinely stupefied by the intensity of it.

“Shit,” You cussed breathily as you tried your best to stablize your labored breathing. “Shit… that was amazing.” There was a hint of utter surprise in your remark as well, and it wasn’t long until you slapped your palms against your flushed cheeks as you began to laugh out of shock as well. “Fuck, did that just happen?”

Gaara sighed loudly as he slumped his back against the mattress, the realization hitting him just as hard as well like a punch on the gut. “Fuck.”

“What did you just-“ The way he cussed for the very first time made you completely erupt in laughter. You clutched your stomach as a slight hint of pain began to stir it, but when you tilted your head towards his face and you met Gaara’s gaze once again, you laughed even harder this time. You grabbed his arm by the wrist as you rested your weight on the side of your body, shifting your position and making him hug you from behind since your back was starting to feel a little sore and heavy. “I can’t believe you just said fuck.”

Gaara chuckled back as he playfully buried his face into the crook of your neck, eliciting a tickled reflex from you. He responded back by nuzzling his face deeper into the curve of it, nudging it left to right until both of you were giggling childishly together. “I loved it…” He whispered softly against the skin of your neck as he hugged you closer towards his body. The way his labored breathing started to calm down as you felt the heaving of his chest subside against your back relaxed you.

“You loved what?” You mumbled back as you entangled your fingers in between his digits, basking in the warmth and suppleness of his palm. You held his hand in front of your face, taking the sight of it with a loving smile as you closed your eyes before pressing a soft peck upon the back of it.

“The way… the way you get so into it…” Gaara retreated his hand briefly to tuck your hair behind your ear and to gently brush the remaining scattered mane away from your neck so that his face was directly pressing against your skin. He returned his hand back to your grip, entangling his fingers with yours on his own. You felt his chin rest upon the plane of your shoulders; his hot breath tickling your ear as he leaned even closer towards you. “Like you can’t get enough of it, like you want so much more… from me…”

“Gaara…” Your voice almost disappeared into thin air as a sigh tore through your sentence; the familiar warmth spreading across your cheeks as you began to feel something stiff pressing against your tailbone. An almost inaudible yelp escaped your lips as he pulled you even closer to him; his embrace getting tighter and tighter by the minute as his breathing began to function erratically once again.

Gaara’s body felt like it was being bathed in the warmth of a calm, burning flame. He felt so hot, so bothered, yet somehow the rising temperature seeps into his skin like a slow, gentle embrace. His chest and throat was beginning to feel dry and constricted, worsening his desperation to breathe. He could feel the deepening timbre of his heartbeat, and he would by lying if he said that he wasn’t terrified. This was all so new… so foreign, to him.  Gaara didn’t know exactly how to respond to it; his rational thinking process wasn’t in tact, leaving him with nothing but a jumble of words and phrases that barely scratched the surface of how he really felt at that moment.

Underneath the shallows of his confusion, he somehow recognized that there was an epiphany beneath it all; its edges jagged and blurry, all because he tries so desperately to see his emotions through a concise, logical standpoint; the one he can easily explain, the one he can support with facts. He has a hard time allowing himself to feel something he can’t comprehend because it feels like it cripples his sense of control; and that alone scares him.

But that wasn’t what he needed, that wasn’t the one who’s going to help him at all.

He was now dealing with a language that his own body speaks for itself; a language that wouldn’t drip perfectly-worded explanations from the tip of his tongue.

He just needs… to feel it as it is.

Every last bit of it.

“I want it bare against me…” You whispered under your breath. Your remark earned an almost exasperated groan from your lover; the build-up of excitement coiling his stomach in an increasing grip making him bury his face deep into your shoulder. A gasp tore through your shallow breathing as you felt the familiar warmth of his cock embedding a girthy silhouette against your lower back.

“Ahh…” He moaned into your ear; the ring of pleasure bathing the timbre of his voice sending mutual shivers on yours and his own spine. He didn’t understand why, but it seemed like allowing himself to verbalize his carnal desires outspokenly somehow increased his sense of euphoria. The way that his bare cock grinded against the supple curve of your tailbone sent him towards the edge. “Y/N…”

You shifted your body upwards and deepened the curve of your back; offering your ass as an enthusiastic opportunity for luscious friction reserved for his private gratification. You stretched your hand behind you, your fingers tiptoeing lines all over his skin before planting a firm grip above his toned ass, giving it a sluggish, relaxing squeeze before resting your grasp above his hipbone as you helped him thrust his body forward. A deeper flush graced his face, the slight shock of having his backside squeezed and the fact that he moaned in response flustering him even more.

“Gaara?” You bit your lip, as you could you feel your heat starting to desire more and more.

“Y- yes…?” Gaara halted the grinding of his hips.

“Would you like to grind it against… me?”

“B- but I already… am…” The realization that chased his scrambled thoughts afterwards had hit him like a whiplash. “Oh…”

“Y- you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, of course.” You quickly followed up as you felt him slightly tense up behind you. You placed his hand in front of your face before giving it comforting, repeated pecks.

“Y/N…” Gaara mumbled breathily against you. “I want it, too…”

“Gaara…”

“Tell me…” Gaara swallowed the lump in his throat as his mouth began to feel drier. “Tell me… where you want me to grind against… I- I need to know that I did not misunderstand anything.”

If it even was possible, the warmth in your cheeks continued to burn even more.

“Uhm… g- grind it…” The scalding heat enveloping the rest of your body was starting to make you feel dizzy. “Against my pussy…”

“Shit.” He cussed breathlessly, his barely audible voiced laced down with a mix of panic and arousal.

The way your heartbeat sank your chest deeper in every pulse paralleled his own bodily reaction; yours and his own breathing loud and labored. A subtle yelp of anticipation left your panting mouth when you felt his palm run a linear path down behind your thigh; halting upon contact against the back of your knee before parting your thighs apart; assisting you to plant your foot behind his body. You couldn’t help but blush even harder at the lewd nature of your disposition.

…And the fact that you loved it like that made it even worse.

“A- are you sure that you really want to do this?” Gaara cooed into your ear.

You hooked your thumb into the waistband of his boxer shorts to tug it down even lower.

“I am, Gaara…”

You darted your gaze down below, a bite on your lip tearing through your moan as you felt the stiff silhouette of Gaara’s cock hovered in between your sopping folds. You rested your back against Gaara’s body, tilting your face towards him to meet his gaze; with a slight nod from you, Gaara took a deep breath before thrusting his hips upwards.

Ever so slow… and almost unbearably shallow.

“Ohh…” You mewled as the wet, spongy tip of his cock brushed briefly against your still, sensitive clit.

I guess it could be said that there was almost a certain feel of fullness to it. His cautious pace allowed you to take a fleeting sip of what is yet to be unraveled and, it’s doing nothing but make you beg for more. “Grind it deeper, Gaara… Please…”

Gaara’s face was in a continuous wince of bliss; as he couldn’t help but almost salivate pantingly in response to the overwhelming affection and sensation that he was currently taking in all for himself alone. He could feel himself shudder in pleasure as you started to get dripping wet once again; making it easier for his dick to grind up and down your soaking slit. The starting point of his thrust would begin at the sensitive area just below the actual entrance of your slick before having his veined, thick-girthed cock separate the folds of your cunt ever so deliciously. The suppleness of your labia clung onto his stiffened member with a bare hint of grip as he continued to rub it lewdly against you. Gaara planted kiss upon the roundness of your shoulder before resting his forefinger and middle finger on top of opposite sides of your folds before spreading them apart, having your throbbing clit further out exposed; making it much more easier for the tip of his cock to grind against your nub.

Again and again.

“Fuck…” You shut your eyes tight before fluttering them open once again, groaning at the sight of the pink tip of his stiffness peaking through your groin.

“I- I’m a my limit, Y/N…” Gaara whispered weakly, his breathing rendered erratic for worse. “I think I’m going to cum again…”

You did notice that his thrusts were getting sloppier and shaky, but you wanted to keep the momentum and steadiness in tact so that your lover gets the best out of his impending orgasm. “L- Lay down… on your back…”

With a flushed face and a gasping mouth, Gaara nudged his face affectionately against your cheek before pulling the pillows closer to him. He laid on his back, a sense of nervousness and anticipation peeking through his heavy lidded gaze. You tugged on the fabric of his boxer shorts before peeling them all the way down. You planted your knees down against the mattress, straddling either side of his hips. The hem of his shirt hung way too low on your body, so you decided to pull the fabric over your head and set it aside. Gaara couldn’t help but sigh exasperatedly at such erotic sight of his fully naked beloved sitting on top of him. You leaned your body forward, placing your palm on top of the other as you rested it above his upper abdomen; the position of your arms rendering your tits squeezed together. “Y- you’re about to cum soon, right?”

“Y- yes, my love…” Gaara groaned as he began to feel your sopping flesh grind against him once again. The abundance of your juices rendered his groin and scarlet pubic hair to be glistening wet. You rocked your hips a little farther behind, allowing your cunt to not only stroke his pulsing cock, but his balls as well. A loud, uncontrolled moan tore through Gaara’s quiet cries when you began to thrust forward, the soft impact sending an electrifying jolt on his trembling body.

“K- keep going…” Gaara covered half of his face with his forearm, the intensity of watching you in such a compromising act becoming a little too overwhelming for him.

There was just something so… dirty and erotic about the whole thing. The fact that the act was nestling perfectly in between two, utterly separate things just felt so carnal. Both of you weren’t technically having sex, but at the same time, there was this bare feeling of your cunt being lusciously filled by the thick girth of his cock, and there was a teasing taste of what’s it’s like for his dick to be choked by the suppleness and wetness of your pussy. It was the state of not doing it but already feeling a rather addicting hint of it that drove both of you to the very edge.

“I’m cumming…” Gaara whimpered pantingly as he shrugged his shoulder tight, and with a firm, forward thrust of your body, Gaara shot his thick load all over his abdomen; some of it even reaching his chest. You retreated back your body to see how his dick trembled uncontrollably against his lower abdomen as it continued to spurt his thick cum before thrusting your pussy forward once again; earning a loud cry from Gaara’s panting mouth. His chest heaved up and down heavily, little breathy sighs of bliss escaping him as he let his orgasm run its course. “Ah… ahh… Y/N…” He mumbled in between his gasps.

Gaara flinched when he felt your index finger trace a line on top of his stomach. You brushed his forearm away from his hand so that he gets to see you tasting his cum of off your finger; the very sight of it covering his skin with goosebumps. Even with such an erotic face; you cracked a gentle, reassuring smile towards him before reaching out for his shirt, using the fabric to wipe the remaining cum off of his abdomen. Gaara’s eyes softened, the beat of his heart ringing with an affectionate and warm pulse as he watched you take care of him ever so gently. “That was great, Gaara…”

He didn’t understand why, his thought process at the moment was in deep shambles. Gaara thought that was all to it, but his chest was still getting warmer, and his stomach was still getting tighter. He was already begging himself to stop because it was becoming almost unbearable to feel, but his emotions still paced through and through. He was beginning to feel lightheaded due to his debilitating ability to breathe; worsening his impending meltdown, and with a soft caress of your hand on his cheek, and that ever so endearing, comforting smile; he might have shut his eyes tight as early as he was able to, but his tears were already streaming down his face.

A shocking jolt of panic sent your body to sit down beside him, your chest feeling like it was in a tight, choking grasp. “Hey, hey…” You whispered softly as you helped him sit down, relaxing his back against the headboard. You wrapped an arm behind his shoulders, cooing out affirming words as sobbed quietly into the back of his hand. You pulled him into a hug by the back of his neck, your other hand combing fingers through his hair as you pressed a kiss against his forehead. You felt his arm snake around your body from behind. “It’s okay, Gaara… I’m he-“

Your sentence was cut off when Gaara placed a soft grip on top of your jaw, gestured your face towards him, and pressed his lips against yours. Gaara’s kiss lingered with so much affection and longing that you couldn’t help succumb every bit of yourself to it. He propped his knee beside your opposite hip before shifting his position and situating his body on top of your lap without breaking the kiss even for a second. He was groaning audibly into your mouth as you were rendered almost drunk of how intoxicating the taste of his mouth was. You were already cornered by your lover as you felt the headboard press firm against your back, but Gaara was still shoving himself towards you, feral and starving as he lapped on your tongue selfishly.

“G- Gaara…” You whimpered breathlessly in between as he continued to tower over you, the sound of your wet mouth being explored by your lover’s tongue eagerly sending shivers down your spine. His kisses grew desperate by the minute as he chased the diminishing air in his lungs, and with a low growl, Gaara released you from his grasp; dropping his head down right away to his lap in order to avoid your gaze. The sound of his pants dominating over yours as his shoulder heaved up and down with his constricted chest. His knuckles turned white above his lap, a visible frustration being out in display as you stared at how he clenched his fists tightly into a ball. You reached out for it, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb. His eyes softened at the sight; your caring gesture making him hold your hand in front of his face before pressing a kiss against the back of it, and before you know it, he has already leaned his body forward; lips brushing against yours in a much more gentle peck.

“I’m scared…” Gaara mumbled under his breath as he buried the side of his head into your neck, his face angled towards the side so he could speak clearly.

“Of what?” You replied worriedly.

“Of this.”

His answer felt like it jabbed a sharp sensation into your chest, but you swallowed your reaction to allow him to speak his mind. You stayed quiet, the silence you offered paving way for his faint, nervous sighs to be much more audible.

“I’m terrified of this, Y/N.” Gaara said weakly as he reached out for your hand and rested it above his heaving chest. Gaara landed his gaze down upon your hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb as he allowed your palm to press contact against his skin. It was faint to the touch, but the familiarity of it made it easier for you to understand what he was trying to say. His heartbeat was slow, yet deep; the weight of its pulse making it harder to bear than a quick-paced one. It was a type that laced a hint of pain with how much love and affection it rung with.

You remained silent, but you brushed your lips on top of his sweat-dampened hair in hopes of relaxing him even just a little bit. He couldn’t help but shut his eyes tight as his chest hammered harder againt your palm; the smallest of your gestures enveloping him in so much tenderness that he had never had the luxury of receiving for so long.

“I had never felt something like this…” Gaara smiled to himself as he began to think of all the memories that you two had since the very beginning. “It’s so… warm… it feels like a lot of things all at once…” He chuckled as his words began to run out again. It was frustrating to not be able to express one’s self eloquently, but he was so flustered at the moment that he was beginning to derive the slightest humor in it. “I have never felt such joy, but at the same time, I have never felt such dread…”

You stroked his hair with your fingertips, not even a word leaving your mouth to allow him to speak comfortably.

“It feels like it’s reaching out to me, like it’s telling me that it was fine… it was a safe space that I can be vulnerable around with once again.” He breathed in before speaking once again.” That I can be happy without having to put up… so many walls…” His voice almost seemed like it was about to disappear into thin air. “But at the same time, I do know that once it disappears, I will never be the same again; and that terrifies me.”

“Gaara…”

“But… do remember that you don’t have to return my feelings for the rest of your life, you don’t have to promise me anything.” He mumbled with a weak smile. “I am already more than grateful for what you have graced my life with.”

Your chest got heavier and heavier by the second as you continued to listen to your lover.

“When the time comes… where being with me harbors nothing but pain and loneliness, you are free to be on your own.” He whispered faintly against you, his words becoming harder to discern in between his choked sniffle and heavy breathing. “I will not take that away from you, my love.”

“Gaara…” Your voice croaked as your tears began to swell up on the corner of your eyes. You knew it yourself that if he says another word, your crippled control over your emotions would fail completely.

“Either way, no matter where you choose to go,” Gaara pulled back his face from your shoulder, returning his gentle caress on the side of your cheek before pressing a kiss against your forehead. “For me, it will always be you.”

Your eyes fluttered open briefly before shutting them tight once again as your tears began to stream down your cheeks. In one swift motion, you pulled Gaara downwards and dove your face forward for a kiss. He entangled his fingers deep into your locks, his grip laced with a gentle firmness as you reciprocated it by wrapping your arms behind his nape to pull him closer to you. “I’m scared, too…” You whispered weakly in between his kisses. “But I can’t help it, Gaara. I just can’t.” You sniffled in between as you continued to tug his body downwards until you were once again in the same position as you were earlier; back pressed hard against the headboard, mouth wide open, breathless. “I love you, Gaara.”

Gaara growled lowly into your mouth as your words continued to set his body in flames. Hearing it again jabbed a crippling shot against his sense of control. “I love you…” You continued to moan pantingly beneath him.

“Please…” Gaara pleaded softly as he grew weaker and weaker by the minute, his voice cracking upon his pleas.

“I love you, Gaara… I really do…” Your voice broke as you stroked his cheeks softly.  

Underneath the entrancing, lingering stare he has you under, there was a deep-seated conflict that resides within himself. It was a beautiful imagery that he found himself embedding deep into his mind; the way your lips curved and parted as those three words left your mouth. He kept hearing it,; the exact, gentle timbre of your voice, despite the fact that you were now silently breathing under him as you stared back at him adoringly. It feels like he was nakedly vulnerable against it, it feels like a trance that’ll make him succumb every bit of himself just to hear it once again.

Gaara dove his face forward, his kisses emanating nothing but pure need, a raw desperation to remind himself that this was indeed happening, that this was his reality now; that after all the years he has suffered alone, he was now finally given the very chance to fall in love and to be loved back ever so genuinely. “You’re really here, right?” Gaara mumbled desperately in between his fervent kisses as he snaked his hand behind the back of your head, entangling his fingers through your locks gently as he angled your face better for a much more deeper kiss. He closed his eyes before leaning for another kiss, nibbling and sucking on your lip; swallowing your taste hungrily as if he wanted to own you all for himself. “When I wake up tomorrow, you’ll still be here with me, right?”

The further you swam in the very depths of his affections, the more you it terrified you; as his deepest conflicts and resolutions mirrored exactly how you felt about him; and to be so mutually entwined with one another almost felt too good to be true.

But, it was.

It was the truth.

“I’m never going to leave you,” You whispered back as you stroked the side of his face with your fingers, tucking in strays of his beautiful, red locks as you returned the urgency of his kisses ever so passionately. “When you wake up tomorrow, I’ll be the first one you’ll see. When you sleep tomorrow night, I’ll be the last one you’ll see. I promise, Gaara. I promise you that. You’re not going to be alone anymore, I’ll always be with you no matter what.”

His tears flew free now, basking in every ounce of emotions that he has repressed for so long. He was right, he thought to himself. Love really did feel like a lot of things happening all at once. He had never felt so free, adored, terrified, yet ironically calm at the same time. It was a complex emotion that so fucking consuming, and he no longer bring himself to stop. He had never felt so willing to surrender himself without any ounce of doubt.

A genuine smile graced his tear-stained face, a grin so truthful that he couldn’t help but bask it in with his eyes closed as he continued to press pecking kisses upon your wet face. “Take me as you please. I am yours, forever.” He held your knuckles in front of his face, fluttering his eyes closed as he dropped kisses on it endearingly.

“Take me as you please, too…” You mumbled with a soft smile before wrapping your forearms behind his neck once again, tugging his body down as you laid your back once again on top of the mattress. You raked your fingers through the base of his scalp as you continued to swallow his wet groans into your open mouth, moaning just as blissfully as his kisses continued set your body in fire. You pulled back from the fervent kiss, darting the tip of your tongue out to lick a path up his throat; making Gaara shudder breathlessly as he felt your pucker nibble and suckle the edge of his jaw before biting in softly the spot below his neck.

Gaara snaked his hand behind your nape, interlocking his fingers with your locks and planting a firm fist of it as he pulled it backwards, allowing him lap on the skin of neck your selfishly. A sudden moan from his wet mouth vibrated against your skin when you sank his hips lower and you bucked your body upwards to have a sly grind of your soaking slit against his now hardening cock. “Gaara…” You mewled breathlessly under him as he began to thrust his hips in return, the familiar feeling of having his member rub against you once again eliciting strings of curses from your lips. You halted for a moment, striking an unwavering gaze towards his own heavy-lidded eyes as both of you exchanged hot exhales of breath. “I’m… ready…”

The paralysing beat of his heart began to pound once again. “Y/N…”

“I’m ready, Gaara…” You smiled softly as you stroked his cheek. “I’m yours, forever…”

Gaara was not speaking, he was just breathing heavily above you; scarlet locks framing his beautiful face messily. His eyes spoke a thousand of words that will probably never leave his mouth, yet somehow, hearing it wasn’t something you needed at all just to understood what he wanted to say. His glassy, seafoam eyes continued to tear through you ever so seductively yet endearingly. It’s cripplingly intimidating yet ironically comforting at the same time. It was a pile of irony that you’ll probably never be able to explain in this lifetime. It wasn’t simply black and white…

He really was just simply a million of beautifully-threaded complexities.

“Make love with me…” You whispered lovingly underneath him.

Your words sent his brain into a haywire; the shock setting in making his chest heave nervously. Gaara swallowed a gulp before taking in a sharp breath. “Did I hear you right, my love?” He mumbled with an almost chuckling voice as manifested by a flustering panic.

You nodded before giggling back at his cuteness.

Gaara held your face by your jaw, his thumb gently rubbing against your wet lower lip. “Let me hear it again, my love… just so I am sure…”

You bit his thumb playfully; the surprised, wince of pain in his facial expression that made his one eye close making your heart beat faster. Gaara pulled back his thumb from your lips before plunging it into his mouth, sucking off the small trails of your saliva clinging onto it. “I’m listening.”

Your gaze drifted to the side before meeting his steady stare once again. “M… make love with me, Gaara…” The sudden realization hit you, making you whisper a soft “shit” under your breath, rendering your lover’s forehead furrow in confusion. “I… uh… That’s not really my decision alone. I mean, only if you’re ready. W- we don’t have to-“

Gaara pressed a firmer kiss this time, nibbling your lower lip into his mouth before parting your pucker apart with his curious tongue.

“You… really have the best way… of cutting me off when I speak…” You whispered in between his kisses, the way both his hands held either sides of your jaw in place with a gentle hint of possessiveness reigniting the warmth in your stomach.  Your amused, chuckling giggle against his kiss embedded a soft grin on his mouth as well. Gaara pulled back from the kiss with a gentle smile gracing his flushed face. He did not cry for long, but his nose was already flushed red; eyes a little swollen and pink. An embarrassed chuckle from your lover tore through the brief silence of just staring at each other.

“I am ready…” He whispered to you. ���But are you… really ready, tonight?” His arms was starting to get sore from carrying the weight of his body so he nestled his body softly above you. Gaara traced a line upon your cheek with the tip of his nose, before speaking once again. “Are you on protection? I might get you…” His breathing becoming gradually erratic, his voice ringing even deeper this time “…pregnant.”

“Shit…” You whispered breathlessly, the warmth in your cheeks getting more botheringly scalding. Your cuss elicited a deep, amused chuckle from your lover. Knowing that a part of why he said it like that was to tease you a little, and you knew better than to not clap back. “There’s no need to worry. You can cum inside me all you want.” You mumbled seductively, easily eliciting a flustered groan from your lover.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“W- would it be okay if… y- you were on top?” He asked, his voice a little shaky and worried. “I just… I just thought that such position would allow you to have a better control on how you want it to go… I want to give you that choice; I don’t want to hurt you, my love.”

Your chest fluttered at his caring words. “Stop making me fall in love with you more, Gaara. I wouldn’t be able to get out of it if you keep doing that.”

“Well… that is the point.” He chuckled before laying his back against the headboard and gripping you softly by your waist as you sat down above his lap. Gaara asked you to bent over slightly towards him, the curve of your spine pushing your ass up in the air as you wrapped your arm around his shoulder and buried your face into his neck. “I’ll make sure you’ll never get out of it.” Gaara whispered to your ear before plunging his index and middle finger into his mouth, coating it abundantly with his saliva before reaching out for the increasing heat resting between your legs. Acting upon what you have taught him, Gaara teased the either sides of your labia first; his touch barely even hovering with how light it was. In every passing second, the pads of his fingers began to gradually sink a little deeper against your skin; a look of subtle wonder gracing his face as he felt the muscle tense up bit by bit as he continued to stroke it. You spat on your palm before snaking it towards his groin, and before Gaara could moan back, you were already working his cock with your sloppy fist.

Gaara began to rub the length of his digits from left to right upon the sensitive center of the slit, the sly gesture resulting to a wet, slapping sound that made his cock twitch harder in between your sensually-pumping fist. Gaara traced a vertical path towards your throbbing clit before teasingly flicking the tip of his middle finger upon it. It wasn’t long until he began knead circular strokes against your nub, the intensity of its pressure crawling gradually as he swallowed your mewls of bliss directly into his ear.

“Finger me…” You panted as you redirected your face towards him. “Please…”

Gaara’s breathing hitched after hearing you beg. With a soft nudge of Gaara’s face bumping against yours, he carefully inserted his index finger into your pussy, a jolt of euphoria shaking your composure when the side of the knuckle of his middle finger brushed against your clit as he allowed your walls to get used to the feeling of his lone digit nestling inside. It wasn’t long until Gaara plunged his middle finger inside as well, eliciting a soft sigh from you as you continued to play with his stiffening cock in return.

Although his fingering was still very, very cautious, he was starting to get the hang of it, and is now slowly getting the confidence in himself that he could make you feel good under his touch. He maneuvered his digits gently in a stirring motion, and the way your walls wrapped around his fingers wetly and tightly was a sensation he was starting to get addicted to. Gaara’s cock was now significantly erected at this point, its pink tip beginning to erupt with a clear, slippery pre-cum that made his cock glisten wet under the soft light in the room. When he began to the flick his index and middle finger to stroke your sensitive spot, you began to lose your focus on toying with his dick.

Surprisingly, Gaara wasn’t just shoving his fingers back and forth. It was as if his cautious, patient nature rendered him to not be impulsive on his foreplay. He was taking his sweet… sweet time, his hand on your jaw caressing your face as he whispered how pretty you were; the tender, endearing words leaving his lips coinciding erotically with how slow and sensual he was; the thrust of his fingers hinting enough firmness, curling it up as he applied the perfect pressure against to elicit your impending cum bit by bit from your cunt. Not being able to bear it anymore, you crawled your lips towards his ear and gave him your permission.

“Gaara… I’m ready…”

With his chest tightening even harder with your voice dripping off like a sweet honey from an overpouring pot, Gaara pressed a soft kiss against your cheek. “Thank you… for trusting me…” He whispered with sa smile. Gaara assisted you once again in a sitting position, his erected cock pressing against your lower abdomen this time. “I- I promise… I wouldn’t do anything that will hurt you. Tell me everything, okay?”

You nodded before him with a reassuring smile. You lifted your body off of his lap before gripping the base of his cock, holding it in place as you grinded your clit against the tip of it before redirecting its angle and slowly taking it in inside of you.

You sighed breathlessly as you dropped your gaze down his cock, with the pink, wet tip of it slowly disappearing into your tight, wet cunt. Gaara carefully held you on place with his faint grip on your waist, the contortion of pain upon your beautiful face rendering him worried; but he trusted you as much you do with him. You bit your lip as you began to sink your body deeper into his length, the thick girth of his cock beginning to topple immensely in comparison to what his fingers had to offer. “S- so… big… Gaara…” You mumbled erotically, your remark reddening Gaara’s face for worse as he felt his cock twitch harder with how you complimented him like that.

There was an immense pressure that pooled upon your lower abdomen; a hint of pain in it, a burning discomfort as you may say. You shoved two fingers into your mouth before snaking it down towards your clit, rubbing it slowly and simultaneously as you continued to swallow in his cock into your pussy in order to ease yourself off of the discomfort. Gaara’s gaze dropped to the side, still wasn’t used to seeing you it right before his eyes for you to play with yourself like that while you’re literally shoving his dick right into your cunt. When you finally took in the rest of his length, your upper body collapsed above him alongside a relieved sigh ripping from your chest.

“Take your time, my love…” Gaara cooed sweetly as he brushed your hair away from your face before dropping a kiss against your forehead. “Y- you’re doing great, okay?”

His last sentence made your giggle against his neck.

“I’m sorry…”

“Aww, I didn’t mean it like that...” You propped your forearms against on both opposite planes of his shoulder before bumping your forehead against his. “In fact, I actually felt incredibly motivated.”

Gaara had a small pout on his lips. “You are being… sarcastic…”

“I’m not!” You pouted back before nudging your face against him playfully. “And I’d like to say that you’re doing great, too…” You giggled before pressing a kiss against his nose. “So, uh… what do you think, about this?”

He hummed in thought and cleared his throat, the flush in his cheeks getting tad bit deeper. “It’s so hot… inside you…” Gaara mumbled, his voice hinting with curiosity. “Soft, and tight…” The fact that he was literally describing how his lover’s cunt felt around his dick was enough to sent him to the edge.

“D- does it feel good?”

Gaara nodded bashfully, a gasp tearing through his supposed shut mouth when you grinded your hips teasingly against him.

“You feel good, too…” You replied. The burning sensation was starting to dissipate bit by bit, a tiny presence of it lingering still but the feeling of fullness was starting to arouse you more. “I’m going to start… moving a bit…” You mused, and with a nod from Gaara, he helped you buck your body upwards, allowing your slick to grind against the girth of his cock to increase your arousal even harder. “S- steady your cock in place, Gaara…” The way your words rolled off from the tip of your tongue made Gaara groan in response. He gripped the base of it immediately, gaze straight upon as he watched your pussy sank down to swallow in his dick; the familiar warmth and wetness making his face wince in bliss; making him cuss even louder when he darted his stare upon your face, a trace of euphoria gracing it as you felt the gradual pleasure nestling in between the pressure of his cock reentering your cunt.

“Ahh…” You moaned shakily, a satisfied sigh exiting your panting mouth before both of you groaned almost in unison when you stirred your hips in a circular motion, allowing the whole length of it to grind against the unexplored, sensitive spots all over in one move. Gaara couldn’t help the soft hiss that left him as the tightness of your pussy choked his cock even more. You planted a firm grip on his shoulder before raising your body once again and allowing yourself to get used to the newly-discovered euphoria of having your pussy by stretched deliciously bit by bit by the scalding, thick girth of his veined cock. “Gaara… fuck…”

Although drowning in bliss at the same time, his concern for you didn’t even blur for a second. “D- does it still hurt?” His voice gentle and sweet.

“A- a little bit sore, yeah…” You murmured back. “But it’s… it’s beginning to feel better, I think…”

“Can I do anything… that might help ease the pain?” Gaara wanted to touch you; he wanted to play with your breasts or stroke your clit in between, theorizing that the pleasure of such acts might distract you from the pain. But initiation wasn’t something that has sat comfortably inside his resolve just yet, and the last thing he wanted was to do something that’ll make it harder for you to adjust. “Tell me anything, I- I’ll do it, my love.”

“Kiss me…” You mumbled breathlessly. “Play with my body… everything you did earlier to make me feel good, y- you can do it.” Towering over him, you began to initiate a kiss, your tongue eagerly exploring the rest of his panting cavern. You felt his grip leave your waist, the suppleness of his palm spreading warmth down your hips before wandering gesture began to squeeze your ass. The way his pressured knead sank into your muscle almost sedated you to utter relaxation. “I love that…” You mewled against his mouth before leaving a teasing bite on his lower lip. “I’m going to start moving now.” You mumbled before beginning to rock your hips back and forth.

“Damn it.” Gaara cursed under his breath as the sight of your naked, glistening body on top of him, and the way his cock disappeared into the wetness of your pussy flashed before his very own eyes. A sight so erotic, a sensation so pleasurable, that he was beginning to blur his sense of control as he began to grab your ass a little harder.

You were beginning to get the hang of it, as the thought alone in itself of making love with Gaara started to bathe your body in bliss. Apart from the literal pleasure that your body is going through at the moment, to hear him moan your moan, to see his flushed face; forehead furrowed, eyes shut tight and a firm bite on his lip was another form of indirect stimulation that made your body writhe in bliss. With your back starting to feel sore from leaning over, you arched your spine, hands placing a grip on his knees before planting both of your knees inches before the opposite sides of his hips, spreading yourself wide open for his eyes to feast on.

“Shit…” Gaara whispered with a shaky voice.

“It feels so good…” You kept mewling, your throat beginning to feel drier by the minute.

“Ahh… ahh, Y/N…” Gaara moaned louder as you began to rock your hips in a steadying pace that had his arousal being milked tight on a carnal static. The sight of your tits bouncing up and down was a very sensual visual that he kept swallowing all for himself, and an even louder cuss left his panting mouth when you caught a peek of your swollen clit protruding through your folds. Taking back a hand from your ass, Gaara shoved his thumb into his mouth, suckling and covering it abundantly with spit before pressing his palm against your groin, stretching his hand out so his thumb is able to reach your throbbing nub. A loud moan screa m of his name escaped you, sending him in a jolt-awakening panic.

“N- no no no, please… keep going.” You moaned above him, your nails sinking into his thighs as the sensation of your impending orgasm began to crawl. “Please, please. Keep going, Gaara.” You cried out.

With a firm gulp, Gaara resumed his gesture. He shifted his initial approach, with his hand now laying a grasp on your inner thigh as his thumb sneaked in lewd, kneading circles against your pulsing nub. The sensation of your clitoris being toyed with adding to his cock stroking the circumference of your entire sensitive cunt, the familiar knot in your lower abdomen began to thrive; the burning eagerness to chase it embedding itself so fucking deep into your skin. You repositioned your body, your hands now gripping the plane of his shoulders as every firm bounce of your body sinking him deeper and deeper into the mattress. The weight of your body clashing down on him was another yet sensation he was starting to get addicted to. The words that wanted to leave his mouth at the moment was something he’s barely holding on to suppress.

The urgency was getting the best of you, but the rougher you chased it, the easier it made for Gaara’s to feel his orgasm dawning upon him. It was too much, just too much. Every inch of his body was starting to feel immensely sensitive and you yourself began to notice that his cock was starting to swell so much harder inside your cunt. Gaara was trying his best, but overwhelming sensation was starting to cripple all kinds of autonomy that he had on his body. The rub on your clit was starting to get unsteady, and it was as if Gaara was almost starting to pull his body away from you with the mind-numbing stimulation that had him throwing his head back against the pillow as he unconsciously bucked his hips upwards. “Y/N…”

It felt like a never-ending stack of pleasure that continued to pile over one another until he couldn’t breathe. He was almost ready to beg his own cock to just cum already because it was starting to feel so much to take. The foreign euphoria that was penetrating every bit of pore on his skin for the first time almost broke him.

“Y/N!” He growled underneath you.

Your focus on your orgasm wavered as soon as you heard what was leaving his mouth.

His moans were so fucking hot.

His voice rang with utter haste, almost breaking in desperation as he tried to apologize profusely that he was going to cum earlier than you. You kept your pace steady and firm, more than eager to provide him yourself the very first coital orgasm of his life. “Please, please kiss me, my love.” He begged with an open mouth, a dribble of saliva beginning to stain the corner of his lip. Before you could even muster a reply, he had already pulled you down with his arms wrapped behind your neck, sloppily letting his tongue lick everything he could as his thought process began to crumble for worse. When you noticed him starting to lose his breath, you pulled back from his lips and pressed your forehead against him, allowing the hot, shallow inhale and exhales of air fan across your equally gasping mouth. His chest, throat and face were flushed bright red as he continued to writhe beneath you.

“I- I’m cumming, Y/N…” Gaara rubbed his face needily against yours.

“I love you, Gaara.” You whispered back.

And that was it.

The last straw of fervent intimacy that drove him straight towards the edge.

“I’m yours,” He mumbled desperately in a hush as his face contorted with the deepest form of euphoria that had him furrowing his forehead and shutting his eyes tighter than ever. He fluttered them open once again, his glassy, seafoam eyes tearing through you in a passionate daze. “please… please t- tell me that I belong to you, Y/N...” He pleaded, his voice cracking in desperation as he felt another wave of tears swelling on both corners of his eyes once again.

“You’re mine, Gaara.” You moaned back breathlessly. “Y- you belong with me, you belong with me forever…”

He cried out again and again and with the last downward thrust of your hips colliding with his, his body shook beneath you, his toes curling in bliss before dragging his feet towards his body, the rise of his thighs elevating you slightly. Under his orgasmic instinct, Gaara shoved his hips upwards, burying his cock deeper into you as strings of hot cum exploded deep inside your cunt. Your eyes widened at the sensation; his cock was at its most rigid state and it was twitching so fucking hard you can feel it pulse against your walls. The pure sensuality of having your lover bury his cum deep inside you was a whole new level of intimacy and affection. Knowing that your orgasm was just a nudge away from coming; you slipped off of his dick, the thick cum leaving down your pussy adding another form of lubrication as you began to grind your slit desperately against his girth; and with a firm, fifth thrust, a powerful orgasm began to wash over you. You gripped the base of his cock and reinserted his still cumming dick into your cunt, the hard, clamping motion of your walls choking his length eliciting some of the remaining cum from his arousal. Your body writhed above him desperately, not even a moan leaving your mouth as the utter, raw bliss was so intense that you couldn’t even muster a slightest sound. You collapse onto him, both of you panting heavily as the immense, euphoric shock continued to linger inside the two of you.

Both of you whispered each other’s name endearingly in content.

There was a comfortable silence that tied you both beautifully, a moment where everything just felt so raw and perfect that no words were ever needed to leave each other’s lips. A faint sniffle woke you out of your stupor, and before you could even redirect your face towards him, Gaara hugged you tight to his chest.

“I don’t know why… I keep tearing up like this…” He chuckled as he nestled his face into your locks, his voice cracking up a little.

You hugged him even tighter, and when he heard a barely audible sob from you; evidenced by the feeling of dampness staining his chest wet, his chest throbbed harder and another yet quiet cry he desperately tried to restrain had left him once again.

You shifted in your position, situating your self next to him as you laid your weight on the side of your body. Gaara proceeded to mirror your angle, as you two are now facing each other directly with both, gentle smiles upon your tear-stained faces. He held your hand against his chest; allowing you to feel the very beat of his heart; calm, deep, and genuinely affectionate. What he proceeded to do after a soft, weak smile shakened your entire resolve.

“I love you…” He mouthed silently before curling his lips in another yet genuine smile.

Audible words had never left his mouth, but if there’s one thing you almost heard, it was the beat of his heart that throbbed even harder after those three words as he held your hand tighter against his chest.

“I feel so scared that I can’t say it,” He slowly mouthed once again before chuckling weakly. “But I love you, Y/N…”

“I love you, too…” You mouthed back with a soft giggle as you used your other hand to stroke his tear-stained cheeks; your eyes barely fluttering open as you allowed yourself to bask in every ounce of emotions you were going through at the moment, and suddenly…

It was harder to breathe.

You were beyond stunned, the overpouring emotions you did not expect for had suddenly washed all over you, body and soul, and it has robbed you off of even the tiniest bit of chance to speak.

There was nothing, really.

Nothing but heavy breathing, a shared grace of a gentle, fulfilled smile between the two of you, an affectionate nudge of your equally-flushed cheek against his as you allowed yourself to have the warm of his face plant soft kisses upon your skin.

It was as if everything had stopped, and there was nothing in this world at this very moment that mattered but you, and him.

Gaara’s hands roamed, fingertips laced with prudence yet ardent need to know you, to feel you, to be one, with you.

The connection binding the two of you began to feel ethereally transcedental…

…And Gaara felt it, too.

“Do you feel it, too?” Gaara whispered weakly, his eyes gentle and loving as he reached for your wrist and held your hand in front of his face. He shut his eyes closed before placing an endearing kiss upon the back of it; his pucker brushing soft pecks upon every tip of your five fingers before carefully dragging his kisses down your palm. Gaara’s eyes fluttered open to take in the beautiful sight of your face as you watched him caress your wrist with his soft, wet lips.

Gaara had the utmost respect towards you. He viewed with the highest reverence, and he had always seen you as strong, independent person.

But tonight…

Tonight was different.

He never knew he could feel so much for someone until he met you, but at this moment, everything he had ever known was almost incomparable to what he feels at this very moment. You were a gift to him. To feel your warm, supple skin, to hear you breath, to listen to your voice… was a gift. He was looking directly through the uttermost tenderness inside of you, a sense of delicateness residing within your very soul that has ignited the fire inside of him to to love and protect at all costs.

“I feel it too, Gaara…” You whispered endearingly before planting a soft kiss against his lips and pressing your forehead against his. “If you’ll have me, I would give my life to protect you, too.”

Your words made his chest tighten, and before you knew it, he was already holding your body against him; an arm snaking in between the side of your head and the mattress as he pulled you closer towards him. Gaara caressed the supple, roundness of your shoulder, tiptoeing the tips of his digits down the blades of it before petting you by your hair and kissing your forehead gently. “I will always keep you safe, no matter what.” He whispered.

Noticing the slight shudder on your skin, Gaara reached out for the blanket laying messily in between your bodies. With a gradually increasing loudness of cute, annoyed grunts as he tried to yank it out freely under his body, he was finally able to cover the halves of both of your nakedness under it. You couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement, but also blush at how endearing his gesture was.

“I feel so sticky right now.” You giggled. Gaara had that “me, too” look on his face despite the lack of verbal reply. “We went to bed at like… 10 PM.” You stared at your fingers as you tried to count. “It was probably around 2 AM when you woke up… It’s probably quarter to four now.”

“I think so too, yes…” Gaara chuckled back weakly. There was an obvious heaviness in his lids, but he still wanted to talk about what just happened. He wasn’t one to ask such daring questions, but it was as if some parts of him had improved for the better; it felt like he was more than willing now to initiate communication with you. “So… uhm, Y/N…” He trailed off. “How did it… feel?” Gaara asked, his voice a little nervous.

You hummed in thought. “Hmm… how do I put it in words…” You thought out loud as you traced lines and circles upon his naked chest.

Truth be told, it was probably something you could never, ever explain justifyingly with words alone.

As you continued your inward search for the perfect word, Gaara began to speak.

“I feel so connected… with you.” He whispered lovingly, his eyes gentle and endearing. “Body and soul…”

With a soft kiss and on his lips and an easing caress on his face, you pulled him closer to you as he began to nestle his face against the warm solace of your skin.

“And I feel so connected with you, too…” You repeated softly before caressing the back of his head as he began to fall asleep. “Body and soul…”

--

Your head throbbed painfully when you fluttered your eyes open and the not so gentle rays of the sun began to peek through the slight gaps in between the curtains. You quickly glued your eyes shut; and with the increasing awareness of your surroundings as your system began to wake itself up, you were almost shocked at the fact that there was still a familiar warmth and weight pressing upon your naked body at this time of the morning.

You were now lying on your back, and when you tilted your head towards your lover, you couldn’t help but giggle softly at such beautiful, rare sight.

The side of his face nestled upon the upper part of your breast, a heavy hand and leg pinning you down against the mattress, almost leaving you with no chance of escape. He had never looked so etheareally peaceful to you until now, eyes not so loosely shut and lips in a soft, curled pout. On top of that, this might just be the very first moment that you learned that Gaara actually snores… A really soft, baby snore, though. You couldn’t help but giggle when you noticed how there’s new, darker ray of eyebags pooling below his eyes… which is probably mirrored by yours, too.

Guess that’s what you get, making love so deep into the night where the moon itself is already close to losing its shine.

A soft, inward groan never left his lips but it was audible enough to hear, carving a deep smile upon your lips once more.

Finally, a very… deep, undisturbed sleep that he utmostly deserved.

You stayed still, even though your body was beginning to feel sore, apart from the expected one resting in between your legs; just in hopes of maintaining the relaxation he was currently pampering himself with.

Gaara really needed that more than anyone.

When he began to shift his body, and turned his back on you in a still, deep stupor, you began to carefully sit up and grab your discarded shirt off of the floor to walk to the bathroom.

After refilling the glass with water to bring on your way back towards the bedroom to give to Gaara once he wakes up, you took a short re-route towards the living room and sat upon the couch; dialing Temari’s number on the telephone before pressing the cold metal disk of its diaphraghm against your ear.

“Oh, finally!” You heard the familiar voice on the other side of the line.

“Good morning, Tem!” You greeted happily.

“Good mor- Oh?“ Temari’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise. “Y/N?”

“Yep.” You chuckled.

Temari chuckled back meaningfully at the surprising revelation, the familiar, teasing tone becoming something that was easy for you to discern.

“Come on, is it really that much of a shocker?”

“It is.” She replied amusingly. “The earliest you usually get up from bed is 10 am. You have beaten your record,” she shot a look towards the wall clock on her living room. “it’s 9:50 AM now.”

“How do you even know that?” You tried your best to stifle your usual, kinda’ loud voice when talking with her.

“Just a hunch.” Temari grinned. “Gaara had been asking me lately if there was a way he could maintain the warmth of the pancakes and coffee he makes for you at 6 AM. He says he doesn’t want you to have it cold because it might upset your stomach, but at the same time, he can’t bring himself to wake you up or to leave it up to you to cook your own breakfast.”

You couldn’t help but blush when you realized another yet undiscovered ways of how Gaara tries to show how much he loves you.

“By the way,” She cleared her throat as she shrugged her shoulder towards her, pinning the telephone against her ear as she tried to pull half of her locks into a side ponytail. “I have been ringing you guys for the last two hours. I was actually about to go on my way there to check up on the two of you because Gaara usually leaves for work at 6:30. It’s weird that he’s late.”

“Oh… uhm,” You couldn’t help but smile giddily like a teenager to yourself. “I’m sorry for not being able to answer right away. I called, too, because I was about to ask you if Gaara could take half the day off.”

“Why? Is he okay? Does he feel sick?”

“No… he’s just, sleeping really, really good right now.” You slumped your back against the sofa. “Like, the kind of good that’ll make you feel guilty if you wake him up from it. Out of all people, you do know the best that his sleeping schedule is still troubled.”

“I see…” Temari smiled gently to herself, her chest warming up at the thought of her baby brother being able to rest easy as he thoroughly deserves. “It’s okay. I could run some of his errands for him to ease his workload for today. I’m really glad to hear that Gaara’s sleeping well.”

“Yeah…” You grinned softly as you raked your fingers through your messy bedhair in hopes of fixing it up. “He’s pretty tired.”

“Tired?” Temari asked surprisingly. “He didn’t have much to do… yesteday…”

As sharp as she ever was, it was almost scary with how good she was at deducing things.

“So… what baby names are you choosing from?”

“Tem!”

Temari laughed hard from the other line. “I have leftover waffles here. I’ll hang the bag on the door knob, you don’t have to get up to greet me if ever you end up going back to sleep.”

“Thank you so much, Tem…” You couldn’t help but feel so thankful for how kind she was to you.

“No,” Temari said with a soft smile. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Tem…”

“Gaara loves you very much, Y/N.” Temari spoke so gently. “Thank you for giving him the chance to feel like that.”

After exhanging goodbyes, you flinched in your seat when someone grabbed and placed the telephone back on its cradle on your behalf.

“Do I have to carry you back to the bed?” Gaara mumbled, his voice a little grumpy. Before you could even answer, he had already made his way from the back the back of the couch, firm strong hands lifting you up from the cushion of the couch as carried you back towards the bedroom.

“Is this why you always try to wake up earlier than me?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you one of those people who are grumpy as hell when they wake up?” You teased.

Gaara dropped your body onto the mattress, the surprising edge of roughness in his action making your chest flutter in excitement. The heat between your legs started to burn harder when he towered over you, the familiar weight of his body cornering you down against the bed. “When you said… last night…” A satisfying yawn ripped from his chest before he pinned your hand softly against the bed, his thumb rubbing soft circles above your palm; the other hand stroking the side of your face softly as he leaned his face closer. “That you will be first thing I’d see when I wake up, I took it to the heart. But what I saw… was my boxer shorts…” His sudden, surprising dominance broke as he ended up giggling softly against the skin of your neck. You snorted back with a laughter, the odd, funny noise making him chuckle again.

“I called Tem… I asked her if you could come in a little late today. You looked like you were having the best sleep of your life, and I couldn’t bear to be the one who takes it away from you.”

“It really did…felt amazing.” He sighed, the way he breathed out hinting satisfaction on his end.

“The sleep?” You mused. “Or what happened before the sleep?”

Gaara buried his now flushed face deeper into your neck as he began to remember everything that took in place night.

Vividly.

“I’m sorry, though…” You whispered gently. “I didn’t mean to have your unromantic boxer shorts to be the first one you see in the morning.” You felt a smile against your neck before he props his chin above your chest, the vibration of your giggle pressing against his skin. “Would you get mad if I do it again? What if I had to pee?”

“You think I have the capacity to be that possessive?” Gaara asked, his voice hinting with amusement.

“I think you’d let me pee.” You smiled at him before brushing the messy locks from blocking the view of his eyes.

“I will.” Gaara began to press soft, pecking kisses upon your breast before dragging his lips in a linear path towards your neck, making you tilt your head to the side as he began to suckle softly on the skin. “But I wouldn’t shy from tying you down if it means I’ll be able to keep you in bed as much as I want to.”

--

[anonymousfiction211]

Handcuffed together: 15

A/N: The story continues. I had a wedding on friday, so a day later than planned :) Hope you like it. Let me know what you think :)

Moving on? The seconds passed by slowly from the moment Loki left you, again. The seconds turned into minutes, hours, days, weeks and eventually months. The first few days you were angry, waiting for Thor to come back so you could yell at him about Loki. But Thor never came back, at first you were angry about that too. But Natasha reminded you that Thor probably had other duties to perform in Asgard and that you couldn’t hold him accountable for his brother’s actions. True.

When you heard nothing, you became sad and depressed. You had thought that Loki would have checked in, maybe leave a message in time. But nothing. It was like he and your entire relationship had never happened. It started with you only dressing in lounge clothes. You stopped hanging out with the team, and were mostly in your room watching tv. You didn’t spend any time on your other hobby’s. Eventually Steve was forced to put you on a break, meaning you didn’t actively take part in the team or go on missions. It took five long months, but that was the moment you decided you were done. You needed to be yourself again.

‘Morning (Y/N), you are up early today? And even dressed in normal clothing?’ Natasha greeted you surprised.

‘Yeah.. thanks Nat’ you replied a bit grumpily. ‘Look, I’m done being lonely and I want to help again. Do you know where I can find Steve?’

‘Good to see you finally coming to terms with everything. Once you are fully over him, we can go out together and snatch you up a better guy’ she winked at you. ‘I think Steve is in the briefing room’

‘Thanks… maybe in a month or two’ you said. Leaving her to find Steve.

Natasha was right, you found him in the briefing room. You knocked on the door and he told you to enter.

‘Hey, (Y/N)’ he said surprised, clearly not expecting you.

‘Hi’ you said a bit sheepishly. ‘Can we talk for a moment?’

‘Of course, take a seat. You are looking good. How are you doing?’ he asked.

‘Better.. I ehm.. actually, wanted to apologize for my absence and the mood I have been in and –

‘(Y/N), don’t worry. It was all completely understandable’ Steve cut you off.

‘Still..’ you said.

The room was silent for a moment. ‘I’m just glad you are doing better. Plus, we already agreed as a team that if we ever see Loki again, let’s say it’s best if he doesn’t show his face around here anymore’

‘Thanks’ you forced a small giggle. ‘I think it’s time to pick up my life and I wanted to talk about the leave you put me on’ you started.

‘You want to come back?’ Steve asked.

‘Yes, I think it is best to have a certain rhythm and get back in the groove, don’t you think?’

‘As much as I love to have you fully back, it isn’t that easy actually’ Steve hesitatingly started.

‘What do you mean?’ you stomach started to tie itself in knots.

‘You need to be re-evaluated, before you can fully join. I mean, you can help us in the meantime. But not actively participate on missions before you are cleared again’ he started to explain.

‘How much time will it take?’

‘The re-evaluation consists of two steps. The first step is a physical test to see what level you are on now. And after that there is a mentality test, to see if you are in the right mind set to function on missions. If you pass straight away you can join next week. But I have to be honest, you were pretty out of it and missed a lot of training So, I think it will be a month or three. But like I said, there is still plenty you can help us with, without actively join the missions’

‘Oh’ you said a bit disappointed. ‘But can’t we just skip it? I’m fine now, and I really want to be back on the team’

‘(Y/N), that’s not how it works’ Steve sighed.

‘Please? I need this’ you begged.

‘Answer one question for me: if we are in the middle of the battle with Thanos, and suddenly Loki appears. What will you do?’

‘I eh.. I..’ you stammered, to be honest you still didn’t know what you would do.

‘Exactly. As much as we love you, it is important to go through these test. We need to be able to trust each other blindly. And as long as you do not have the right answer immediately to that question, we can’t. I’m sorry’ he said.

‘I understand’ you said softly, trying not to break down. That surely wouldn’t help your case.

‘I’m sorry. If you feel up for it, I will start up the whole process. But if you need more time, then take all the time you need. I’m already super glad that you are doing better’ he said.

‘Thanks Steve, ehm.. start it up. And what can I do in the meantime?’ you asked.

‘I will catch you up’ he said.

Then Steve started to explain what the team had been doing the past months. They had tracked a guy down, named dr. Strange. Apparently he was a bit like Tony. He also possessed an infinity stone, and they told him everything that Loki had told them. Thor would hopefully be back soon, and than they would no more about how Loki was doing and if he knew where Thanos was hiding. In the meantime, dr. Strange had tracked down another stone on a planet by someone called ‘the collector’. Apparently Asgard had given them the reality stone for safe keeping. Dr. Strange had set up a meeting and would try to come back with the stone. The plan was to collect the stones before Thanos and then imprison him with them, so he couldn’t go through with his plan. Kill him if necessary.

‘So, if you could drop of these documents at the sanctuary, that would be really helpful’ Steve said lastly.

‘Am I supposed to be everyone’s assistant until I’m cleared?’ you snapped

‘You’re no-one’s assistant. But this is the only task I can give you at the moment. This and ask for an update on his work, it really would help’

After some back and forth you reluctantly agreed to go to the sanctuary. Before that Steve had called everyone to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and tell them that you are working on joining the team again. To your relief everyone was supportive and seemed glad that you were doing better.

That afternoon you walked to the sanctuary with the documents. Wondering if you would get to meet dr. Strange and what he was really like.

‘And you are?’ he said answering the door you just knocked on.

‘I’m (Y/N) from the Avengers, here to deliver some documents you needed and to ask how your progress is’ you answered politely.

‘Ah, so you are the one sleeping with the enemy’ he joked.

After seeing your not-amused-face he cleared his throat and invited you into the sanctum. He told you about what this place was and who he was. He had actually an appointment with the collector in an hour, just to meet up. He didn’t expect that he would be able to get the stone on the first try.

‘If you really want to help, you could actually tell me about Loki’ he said.

‘I don’t want to talk about it’ you said.

‘Look, I have reason to believe that Loki has already been to the collector. And I know very little about the guy. Maybe you can interpret some of his actions for me?’ he asked.

You sighed heavily. ‘I’m not able to explain every choice he made. But if he has been there you can ask me when you return’ you said bitterly.

‘Or… you could come with?’ dr. Strange proposed.

‘I can’t. I’m not supposed to join missions. I’m on leave with the Avengers and need to be re-evaluated first’ you explained.

‘But I’m not with the Avengers. So, technically I’m hiring you as a free-lancer. So, are you coming with me? Could be helpful?’ he tried to persuade you.

‘I can’t. If the team finds out..’

‘I promise I won’t tell them. If Loki has really been there, aren’t you curious to what he is up to?’ dr. Strange cocked one of his eyebrows.

That argument convinced you. Besides, it was one conversation with some guy you would attend. It really wasn’t a mission, right? What could go wrong?

At the collector Dr. Strange, who said to call him Steven, opened a portal and the two of you went through. The collector was a peculiar being, his assistant also. He and Steven were talking about the stone and Thanos, while you walked behind them besides the assistant. Walking through the collection of the collector you saw some amazing things. It did disturb you that there were living beings held captive here, even after the collector assured you that it was fine. You were drawn back into the conversation when you heard Loki’s name.

‘Yes, he has been here’ the collector answered. ‘What did he ask you? What did he want? When did he leave?’ Steven asked.

‘Ah, a lot. Quite the mischievous guy, but that is to be expected I suppose. Unfortunately for him, someone else already had required my services’ that made everyone stop walking.

‘What do you mean?’ Steve asked.‘Well, to answer you earlier question, he is still here. Now Carina’ the collector said. 

Before you knew what was happening someone grabbed you and you felt a sharp needle in your neck. Steven looked shocked. You wanted to scream but every muscle in your body went limb. Your eyes felt heavy and you vision started to blur. Was the building tilting sidewards? Or were you falling? The last thing you heard was laughter and you saw Steven’s sparkling magic, and then it went black.

Some time later Your head was pounding, and your mouth was dry. Still foggy you tried to open your eyes. There was a familiar voice saying something in the background. One of your hands was immobile. Recounting everything that happened you tried to sit up right and open your eyes. It took a moment for your vision to fully return and your hearing to improve. The first thing you noticed was that one of your hands was cuffed. The cuff was attached to another hand. Looking up, you saw him. ‘Good to see you again, kitten’ Loki smiled. 

Permanent taglist:  @delightfulheartdream​ @the-best-phineas​ @pescadoavocado​ @theestorm​ @theaudacitytowrite​ @justacripple​

Story taglist: @l0nelyasian @mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes @ragweed98 @thehornytitties @oh-my-gerd @morganmofresh @saiyanstars @rahne85 @charistory @not-your-bitch @kamrynnnnn @kokinu09​

If you want to be added to a taglist, just ask :)

[anika-ann]

One Door Closes... (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, pretty much canon

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 2700

Summary: For Steve, your door is always open... or he thinks so. And even when it isn’t, it is.

In which one small Zoom mishap leads to an (un)usual ‘welcome home’.  

Warnings: brief mention of blood and violence, lightest angst, attempt at humour, crack-ish, fluff and language

A/N: For @anjali750, because this is totally her fault. Thank you for inspiring me :-* Have a little bit silly weekend reading, y’all!

“Tell me about it,” Steve encouraged you gently, soft smile playing in the corner of his mouth despite the pain it must be causing him due to his busted lip.

You couldn’t but grin at the lenient picture he made. Feeling blood rush to your cheeks at the thought of him probably calling you cute in his mind if his expression was anything to go by, you obliged, proceeding to tell him about the new project at work.

Your project. Because somehow, you finally earned your boss’ confidence and could bring the great ideas in your mind to life.

You felt so giddy just talking about it! So you started explaining, excitedly gesturing with your hands so Steve would get the right visual and you grew so enthusiastic that you almost forgot to keep an eye on him.

But you were watching him – always.

His lower lip was split, but already healing – it would have healed much faster if he stopped tugging at the healing skin whenever he talked or smiled at you from the screen. He looked a little drowsy, a shadow of a bruise forming on his cheek, but as far as you knew, those were the only injuries he had; that and many hours of sleep to catch up on.

Steve had a habit of calling you via Zoom whenever he got back to the Tower from a mission. He usually took a quick shower and was online until the last second before he had to leave for a debriefing; the only reason why he didn’t head straight to your place.

He admitted once that he loved seeing your face and talking to you even if for a moment after a mission, that it grounded him. On a very sappy and loveable moment, he even called you his sun; and the fact that after few minutes of being with you – as much as technology allowed – his face always seemed brighter, made you think that it truly was how he felt.

Even exhausted as he was now, you could tell his half-lidded eyes shined with life unlike when you started the call.

And so you kept rambling, feeling your heart bursting with love for your man and with euphoria, because goddammit, finally some recognition at work!

“Well, obviously, to reach as much general public as we can, we’re gonna launch a world-wide campaign! World-wide!” you emphasized with a blinding grin, throwing your hands wide to demonstrate.

---and your fingers caught in a cord from the laptop, pulling at it.

Steve’s benevolent face disappeared as your screen went black.

Because of course it did.

You had been talking yourself into buying a new laptop or at least having this one fixed for a few weeks now, because this was always the result whenever you accidently unplugged it. The battery was useless, ready to retire.

“Motherfu--- ugh!“

You wanted to be mad at the device – but this was totally on you.

Sighing, you hooked up the laptop again, waiting for it to wake up from a coma, shooting Steve an apologetic text in the meantime. Closing your eyes, you let your forehead lightly fall against your desk, mentally cursing yourself.

Dummy. If you only weren’t so lazy… and didn’t hate certain aspects of adulting with so much passion… you could have been talking to Steve-

Your eyes flew opened when it felt like it was quiet for too long; no reply to your text. Dread filled you and you quickly reached for your phone again, this time to dial.

You prayed you were wrong; but as the phone kept ringing with no one to answer it on the other end, you felt misery creep up you back and whimpered. Sliding your phone on the tabletop, your not-so-deft fingers stumbled over the keyboard, harshly welcoming it into the world of living by opening Zoom again to reconnect the call.

Your breath hitched in anticipation as the window opened---

An amused and yet somehow unimpressed face of Natasha Romanoff welcomed you and this time, you didn’t bother slowing down as your head hit the desk. It hurt, but that was only a presage of the real pain.

“Nooooooo,” you whined loudly, faking and not quite faking a sob, because shit.

“Oh yes,” Natasha hummed nonchalantly.

You straightened a bit in your chair, narrowing your eyes at her as you noticed the corners of her lips twitching while she pretended to be busy checking out her possibly-mission-broken nails.

“It’s not funny.”

She snorted and glanced at your no doubt desperate face.

“It really is. But also kinda sad,” the spy noted, something resembling concern flickering over her face before she scrunched her nose, irises twinkling. “And disgustingly cute. It has Rogers written all over it.”

You glared at her some more, not even bothering to roll your eyes.

“Tell that to my landlord,” you muttered under your breath, leaning your elbow on the tabletop and dropping your chin to you palm. A second later, a brilliant idea hit you and you tried to manipulate your legs from under you.

The thing was, even if you had a pretty good idea of what was coming if you didn’t stop it and knew that it would be a bitch to deal with, Natasha was right.

In a way, it was utterly cute, disarmingly charming and entirely heart-warming. Your stomach fluttered, the fabled butterflies flipping their wings, your face grew hot and your heart… well, it felt as if it was growing in size.

It was also sad, heart-breaking even; Steve, especially after a mission, was a man running on instincts. It was one of the reasons why he had developed a habit of calling you, why he wanted to hear you ramble about your either boring or exciting but always wonderfully normal day. A day which involved no shooting and no blood besides papercuts and a quarrel with your stubborn boss who shoot you glares at best.

On a mission, these carnal automatisms often meant survival. But back home, Steve didn’t want to be a sum of instincts of survival, fight and fear; he wanted to feel again. And with you, he did. He wasn’t just a Captain America, a soldier to be put on battlefield whenever the general found fit. He was a human being. A wonderful one at that, with beautiful soul.  

So yes. It was also rather upsetting.

And in a way, it was a little funny too. You knew it was totally your fault and that Steve was being kinda ridiculous, because he knew you and your inclination to wild gesticulations ending up catastrophically. On top of that, he was aware of this particular problem being almost a daily occurrence; hell, he tried to talk you into having Stark look at your laptop and failed.

And now... well. Here you were.

“You know, maybe if you get up and welcome him with door opened…” Natasha teased you with your own genius ides and you grinded your teeth, frantically trying to move your foot, which was pretty much on fire and yet dead.

“I would, but I… eh, pins and needles, was sitting on my feet,” you explained, embarrassed, testing whether your feet could carry you or not, naturally finding that without support, you’d be down before you could take as much as a step.

This time, Natasha didn’t snort in amusement.

Instead, she graced you with an outburst on honest full belly laughter, her red hair unfairly shiny for a woman who just spend week on a mission in damn Moldova and probably kicked more asses that you could imagine.

“You know what, Romanoff…” you grunted, forcing yourself to wobble towards the door. Very slowly. And cautiously. Knowing your luck, you might actually get hurt.

“I’m not even sorry,” she choked out and then continued to howl in laughter. “You so deserve each other. I finally know what the ‘idiots in love’ mean. Thanks for that!”

“You’re very welcome,” you huffed, voice dripping with irony.

Finally able to put full weight on both of your feet, you headed towards the exit – and entrance – of your apartment.

Halfway, you decided it was a lost cause. You would be willing to bet that the moment you’d touch the doorknob, you’d get hit to your face. It wasn’t worth it.

Yes, maybe if you did get hurt, it would make Steve think twice before coming all guns-and-shield blazing into your apartment; then again, it would probably cost you a broken nose.

Not to mention Steve’s tendency to get swallowed by the enormity of his guilt.

So not worth it. Best if you stayed put.

That was what you kept telling yourself when you stood there for about two minutes, in which you’d be able to open the door about forty times. Your annoyance – mostly with yourself and the cackling redhead – and the anticipation was becoming unbearable. As seconds ticked by, you were trying to convince yourself into taking the last few steps and opening the door and save yourself some trouble---

You yelped when the loud bang rattled your apartment the door sent flying of their hinges along with a spray of powered plaster despite knowing it was coming.

A glint of metal appeared next, the striking red, white and blue no longer there as it was covered in more bland colours for stealth missions.

And then a large figure cladded in blue shirt and grey jeans entered, his chest heaving, face flushed with red. Piercing blue eyes wiped of all previous traces of tiredness scanned the room, instantly falling on you as you awkwardly stood there, dumbfounded, startled and utterly speechless.

Also, much to Steve’s puzzlement, you were perfectly fine otherwise – even with both legs functioning, no remnants of pins and needles present.

Steve eased his posture instantly, eyes narrowing and then widening as he looked you up and down, lips parting in genuine surprise – and relief.

He said your name, clear and almost reverent, dropping the shield on the floor with a clang.

The ‘hi babe’ got stuck in your throat as you could see the tension leaving his shoulders, his eyes turning glassy and absent despite relief rolling off him in damn tsunami waves.

It hit you like a train – that you were delighted to see him, actually see him, even under these circumstances; and you truly didn’t want him to withdraw to some freaky brain-space after he had probably got one of the most ridiculous scares of his life due to the fact that his brain was not fully back in the normal world.

In the normal world where you abruptly disconnected a call without warning, because you talked too animatedly and not because some terrorist high on the FBI’s, CIA’s, NSA’s and SHIELD’s most wanted list found out you were Steve’s girlfriend and decided to take you out.

So to prevent another psychical horror trip of his, you went for distracting him – with a very relevant issue.

“You broke my door.”

Steve blinked, gaze refocusing on you fully, simply staring for a long moment.

“You went offline,” he objected quietly, a hint of accusation in his voice. God, you missed his voice.

“You broke my door, Steve.”

As if hearing his name was a spell, his frozen figure came to life and he took a cautious step closer, repeating his previous statement, this time with a hint of guilt.

“You went offline.”

“And you broke my door. That’s the second time this month, Steve! My landlords gonna k--- be real pissed at me,” you corrected yourself in the last second, not wanting say kill.

Steve ignored the slip and apparently got the message, his face twisting in genuine apology. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix it!”

With efficiency of a supersoldier, he spun on his heels and rushed to pick up the door as if it was lighter than a paperweight and swiftly put it in place.

Only for the door to slowly tilt his way again. He caught it with a loud curse and moved it aside, leaning it partly against the wall. The action sent more plaster down onto the floor, like the only truly white snow in New York City. Peripherally, you noticed Steve grimacing, his face an expression an epitome of yikes.

You let your eyes slipped shut, shaking your head with a sigh, but couldn’t but chuckle. When you looked at Steve again, he resembled a 240 pounds giant Labrador puppy, truly regretful, approaching you reluctantly as if he was afraid you would slap his big paws for being clumsy.

What he would deserve was for you to clip round his ear for impulsiveness, but could you blame him? God knew what he had seen in Moldova in the past week, what horrors he had lived through and what a nightmare his mind had created when you ‘went offline’.

Him barging in like this due to your own dumbassery was kinda sad; a prove of his demanding job full of terror.

It was cute and heart-warming, because he just cared for you that much.

It was a little ridiculous, because as Steve finally crossed the distance between you two, the head of your elderly neighbour peeked from behind the empty doorway, puzzled and rather concerned.

You snorted unattractively, the scene in front of you seeming epically hilarious all of sudden.

“I’m good, Mr. T!” you called over Steve’s shoulder after the poor man who gossiped like an old woman and was just as hospitable. “Just my boyfriend fussing because of a technology fail!”

A grin spread on his wrinkled face; a testimony to years of laughter and amiability. “Oh. Hi, Mr. America!”

“Afternoon, Mr. T! I am verry sorry for disturbing you.”

The older-looking man waved off Steve’s politeness.

“It’s fine. You keep taking care of your lady, Mr. America, and keep her safe!”

“Yes, sir,” Steve humoured him with a salute, earning a wink.

As your neighbour walked away with a fresh topic for his Sunday tea party, Steve turned his attention to you again, eyes searching, wide, apologetic – but also soft, taking in the view of you, revelling in it.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he whispered lowly, the lopsided smile you loved so much gracing his face, once again pulling at that damn split lip. You grimaced a bit, the sight of him almost brining tears into your eyes; the gentleness and the remnants of fight punching you straight in the gut.

His eyes fluttered close when you lifted your hand and traced the line of the bruise on his face with the lightest pressure you were capable of. This time, tears definitely prickled in your eyes, but you blinked them away, cupping Steve’s cheek and pulling him close.

“Oh come here, babe,” you breathed out, fingers carding through his hair as he leaned his head on your shoulder, lips brushing the crook of your neck, strong arms embracing around your form.

He was warm and big and held you a bit tighter than necessary and dammit, you loved your sweet of heart and occasionally dumb of ass boyfriend. Boyfriend, who was crazy in love with you. Sometimes with emphasis on the crazy.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he muttered, nose nuzzling the sensitive skin of your neck, breathing in deeply. You pretended it didn’t do things to you as he did everything to get lost in you and leave all the bad behind. You failed.

“You’re totally paying for fixing my door.”

Well, maybe not failed entirely.

“Of course,” Steve assured you dutifully, no hint of humour in his voice.

It broke you on a completely new level; he was serious. Dammit you loved this man!

“I missed you too,” you finally admitted and this time, he did chuckle, squeezing you even tighter, hand running up and down your back. Without any warning, he tightened his grip and lifted you from the floor so you had to cling to him entirely, causing you to gasp.

You never got the chance to gather your wits and comment on that, because an annoyed voice of a certain redhead sounded from your laptop.

“…alright, you crazy kids, you had your cuddles. Now, Rogers, should I tell Fury you’re coming back for the debriefing or should we just finally change with the times and do it over Zoom?”

Clutching Steve’s waist and shoulder, face contentedly in his chest, you voted for the latter.

Steve Rogers masterlist

Lovely divider by whimsicalrogers​.

A fic from collection ‘This was supposed to be a drabble.’  Also, I couldn’t for the love of god figure out a better title.

I hope you enjoyed at least a bit :-*

Thank you for reading!

[eirikaanemo]

I was wondering is I could get a scenario where reader is actually a descendant of decarabian and is out to get revenge on barbatos and take back mondstat and barbatos’s gnosis so they can become the anemo archon. They are a spy in mondstat trying to gather information before they put their plan into full affect but end up falling in love with venti in the process and don’t know if they want to get revenge anymore so they tell venti everything.

Of course, I would be happy to! Thank you for being my first request! This is a little long, but I hope you like it!

Child of the Storm

Warnings: Some angst in the middle

Venti x GN!Reader

2.8k Words

Decarabian had many children. These children are known as storm sprites. Quite a few exist, though their numbers are greatly diminished now that he has fallen and Barbatos became the Anemo Archon. They’re mostly peaceful, but not all of them. Not you.

No, you want revenge. Barbatos took what was rightfully your father’s, the anemo gnosis and position as Archon. Decarabian had only been doing what he felt was right. He was protecting the people from the harsh and cruel colds of the outside world. And this was how he was rewarded?

It’s not like Barbatos is a good Archon anyway. He goes missing for centuries at a time, sleeping his time away. He doesn’t actively protect and guide his people. He is lazy and irresponsible. He does not deserve what is rightfully your father’s. And so, since your father cannot take the gnosis and rise to his rightful station, you will.

This is not something that is easily done. Even though he is the weakest of the Archons, Barbatos is still an Archon. There is an inherent power and ability that comes from simply holding a gnosis. So you must prepare.

To do so, you become a spy in Mondstadt. It takes a lot of power to create a human form. But using the remnants of your father’s power and what power you have in reserve, you manage it. You integrate yourself in the city by becoming a knight of favonius and making many friends. Kaeya in particular is rather fond of you.

Why a knight? You may as well protect your people in the meantime. Hypocrisy is not a good look on you. And having many friends will help you get more information and have a better cover. So your plan begins. You do not actively speak against Barbatos, but you do not speak or act in his favor either. Your friends come to know you as a sort of neutral party on religion.

It baffled you how everyone in the city seemed to love Barbatos. How could they love an absent Archon? How could they love someone who abandoned them and hate one who was always there for them? Nothing about it made sense.

Your plan works perfectly. It was slow at first, but you’ve started to get more and more information on the going ons of the city. Most of it is trustworthy, but don't sources, like gossiping with Kaeya, tend to have mixed results. Sometimes his information is factual and completely true. Sometimes it is something he seems to have made up off the top of his head.

One evening you were waiting for Kaeya to meet you at Angel’s Share for another one of your information sharing (read: gossiping) sessions. As you wait you take a moment to enjoy the music played by one of the many bards that play at the tavern. The music tonight is particularly good and played by a bard in green.

His teal tipped braids, dark hair, and flower in his cap compliment his fair complexion. The tips of his braids seem to almost glow in the dark. His slim fingers seem to dance across the strings of his lyre. It’s an enchanting sight and you may have just fallen a little in love. Just a little.

Vengeance is your whole purpose, you cannot allow something like a little infatuation to distract you from that. And yet you can’t help but return to the bar over and over just to see him play. You start to tip him anonymously with apples and wine. It’s not your fault, he’s just too good at what he does. This is just you giving him the reward he deserves.

He eventually catches on and finds out who’s leaving the tips, because Charles is a dirty traitor. But it would be easier to be mad if Venti wasn’t so grateful and happy to have figured out it’s you who’s leaving the tips. The two of you formally introduce yourselves to each other and strike up a good conversation. You end up spending a lot of time together with him after his performances. He seems to enjoy those nights as much as you do. And sometimes you catch him staring at you with a dreamy look out of the corner of your eye.

But you start noticing a couple odd things. He has an absolutely ridiculous alcohol tolerance with no sign of debilitating hangovers. While singing, he doesn’t seem to stop as often to breath as much as other bards. It could be passed off as him just being better a better bard, except for the fact that it’s by a superhuman margin.

When you spot him turning into a wind sprite to sleep in a small shelter in an alleyway, it explains a lot of things. However, some of your questions go unanswered until one night when you’re playing around as a storm sprite. You notice him sitting on the hands of the statue of Barbatos and get curious. He seems to be speaking, so you hide behind the statue and listen carefully to what he is saying.

“Oh, Himmel,” he sighs. “Am I doing the right thing? Everyone seems happy, but would they be happier if I was a better and more active Archon?” Your world stops. How is this possible? Why him? Why did it have to be him? Could you even do this anymore? What in the world would you do with yourself if not this? If you’re honest with yourself you have to admit that you have come to love him.

This is your life purpose! But you love him! How can you fulfill your purpose if it requires you to harm the one you have come to love? What would your father think? Nevermind, you know what your father would think. He would call you a weakling for not following through. But he’s dead. So does what he would say even matter anymore?

Your existential crisis lasts for a solid week. Venti notices how distant you’ve become and does ask about it, but leaves it be once he sees that you’re not ready to talk about it. One day it becomes too much. He deserves to know, you decide. It may be hard and may drive him away from you entirely.

But you can’t keep this from him. Doing so wouldn’t be right and he should know the truth before the two of you even consider having more of a relationship than you already have. So no matter how much it scares you and tears you up inside, you choose to tell him.

“Venti, could you meet me at Starsnatch cliff tomorrow?” You ask him, nervously. “I have something I need to tell you.” He seems surprised, but is agreeable to the idea. “Sure,” he replies. “I’ll see you then!” The smile he sends you kills you a little more inside.

“I need to go,” you tell him as you hurriedly got up, paid your bill, and left. “Was it something I said?” Venti wondered behind you. Shrugging, he takes another sip of his drink. “Well, I guess I can ask them tomorrow.”

Tomorrow comes too soon, after a sleepless night of tossing and turning in your bed. There is nothing you want to do less than go to Starsnatch cliff, but you promised. So you go. You take your time getting there before sitting down with your feet dangling off the edge of the cliff. The day is beautiful. Much too beautiful for a day that may just ruin your life forever.

Taking a deep breath, you notice some footsteps coming up behind you. “Hey there,” Venti says. “It took me a while to find you. Be a bit more specific next time, won’t you?” You nod absentmindedly and pat the ground next to you. After he sits down, you start.

“Once upon a time there was a storm sprite, a child of Decarabian. They were created near the end of his reign, too young to join in the effort to protect him and his cause: protecting the people of Mondstadt from the cold blizzards of the outside. This was before the snows were blown away, and blizzards were abundant. Decarabian had created a barrier to protect his people from almost certain death.

“Yet his people did not appreciate his protection. They rebelled against him and he fell before them. If Barbatos had not risen to power, the people would have faced almost certain death to the harsh winds of Boreas.

“But, in any case, there was only one storm sprite left in the area to hear his dying wish. He wished for vengeance, retribution for the injustice he received for fulfilling his duty to protect. And it became that storm sprite’s purpose for existence. Or so they thought.

“They spent many, many centuries plotting the downfall of Barbatos, growing in power slowly. Eventually they were able to create a human form and walk among the people of Mondstadt. And walk among the people they did, collecting information and preparing for the date they would finally find Barbatos and take back what was rightfully their father’s.”

You stop a moment for a chance to breathe and glance at him to see how he was taking the story. He looked thoughtful and he gazed out towards the horizon. So you take courage and continue.

“But then, something happened- something completely unplanned. The storm sprite fell in love. At first it was just infatuation but it grew and grew until it became something stronger and more pure. They truly loved, for the first time since their father had died. And there were signs that the one they loved might even feel the same.

“Then something happened. Something that made their whole world fall apart. They found out that the one they had grown to love was Lord Barbatos himself.” There was a moment of silence. You don’t dare look at him. You are absolutely terrified. After you take a deep breath to steady yourself, you keep talking.

“They didn’t know what to do. Their purpose was to destroy the man and everything he stood for. But their heart would never let them do it. Eventually they made a very difficult decision. They would tell him.

“This is my story, Venti. This is my life and my past. It’s not pretty and it’s not kind. You have every right to hate me, despise me. If you no longer want anything to do with me, I would understand. I just… like I said, I just felt that you deserve to know.”

There’s another moment of silence, slightly longer, heavier, and more awkward than the ones before. When you turned to look at him, drawing your knees up to your chest, you saw him looking at you, pensive. What did he see? You wonder. Does he see a monster who was plotting his demise? Does he see someone unforgivable and unwanted? Will he send me away from Mondstadt forever?

As you looked down at your shoes, a thousand more thoughts running through your mind, he finally spoke. “Well, I’ll admit that this is not what I thought you’d wanted to talk about today. I was expecting something more along the lines of a confession, honestly. And I suppose you did admit that you love me as part of your story, but part of me wishes that you had stopped there.”

If possible, your head drops lower as you press your forehead to your knees. “But,” he carried on. “I’m grateful that you told me this. It really would have messed things up more if you waited until we were in a relationship to tell me. For now, I’d say you should keep going on as you are. Live your life the best you can. I would really prefer if you found a new purpose, one that doesn’t end in my utter destruction, but you’re free to make that decision.

“I won’t chase you out, if that’s something you’re worried about. You’ve proven that you love Mondstadt and cherish it’s people. But I will ask for some space. It’s going to take some time for me to process all of this. I’m going to go now. I’ll approach you when I’m ready, please leave me be until then.”

“Okay,” you whisper loud enough for him to hear. Then he gets up and walks off. You cry until you can’t cry any more. You’re not sure why, you deserve this and were expecting this after all. But it still hurts. The close relationship the two of you had was gone. And you miss it already.

After some time you pull yourself together, clean yourself up best you can, and head back to Mondstadt. You follow his advice and keep going with your life. Your new purpose, you decide, is to serve and protect Mondstadt and all its people. Kaeya and your other friends notice something’s different and ask about it in concern.

Most lay off after you say you’re not ready to talk about it. But Kaeya, being the persuasive and stubborn guy he is, didn’t give up until you admitted that you’d done something that messed up your relationship with Venti. He knew how much Venti meant to you and made time to be with you more while Venti took his time deciding what he’d do about it.

Then Dvalin started attacking, a traveler came to visit, and fatui were more abundant. You would have loved to take action against all of these, but Venti was so closely entwined with all of these issues that you didn’t dare. Things seemed to be working out okay without you anyway.

But then you felt a disturbance. A fatui was approaching the cathedral. That was odd because while the fatui aren’t exactly subtle about not respecting Lord Barbatos, they were never as bold as to go near his cathedral. Something was wrong and you were determined to find out what.

You arrived just as La Signora tore his gnosis out. While you froze in shock for a moment, you burst into motion the minute she stopped for a moment to look at it. With the speed of a burst of lightning, you snatched the gnosis from her hand and disappeared. You only stopped when you reached Old Mondstadt, but you could still hear her scream of rage.

You stash the gnosis away, hidden in a satchel that you usually carry with you. As you’re heading home you run across Kaeya. After talking with him for a moment, you get an idea. “Kaeya, could you deliver a message to Venti for me?” You ask. “Sure,” he said, smirking a little. “Are you going to try and make it up to him?”

“In a way,” you respond. “Just tell him to meet me where we last spoke, okay?” After a moment of fake consideration and stroking his non-existent beard, he agreed and the two of you parted ways. He went on to Mondstadt and you headed to Starsnatch Cliff.

You didn’t wait long, a four pair of footsteps came quickly. From their pace you could tell that they’d run all the way there. Once they came to a stop you turn to greet them. They were guarded and wary, which was understandable, but it still hurt.

When you pull the gnosis out of your bag, you see looks of shock. “What?” You question. “Did you think I would claim it myself or something?” The traveler nodded, Diluc shrugged, Jean wobbled her head back and forth, while Venti looked a little ashamed of himself. You smile ruefully. “I guess I deserve that. But here,” you hand the gnosis over to Venti. “I believe this is yours.”

He looks at the gnosis, then at you, then the gnosis, and repeats the pattern a couple times, his eyes wide. Eventually his eyes settle on you as he absorbs the gnosis. When the shine of his transformation was still wearing off, you feel a pair of arms wrap around you and hug you to a chest.

“Thank you,” Venti murmurs in your ear. “I think you’ve more than proven yourself to me. I forgive you. How could I ever thank you for this?” You smile and hug him back. “Maybe you could consider joining me for lunch tomorrow?” You smile even wider when you feel him kiss your cheek. “I think I can do that,” he agrees.

When the two of you part, he un-transforms, and you both turn to look his companions. Diluc has one eyebrow raised. Jean seems to have gone into shock. Traveler’s face is bright red and Paimon is covering their eyes and glaring at you. You both laugh, making Paimon glare harder. Diluc actually cracks a smile. And Jean snaps out of her shock and laughs a little with you.

Your date the next day goes wonderfully, and neither of you can wait for the next one.

[displacedentities]

Night Out

My quickfic for @doodledrawsthings​ Coffee Shop AU! In truth I had this in the books for months and just never got around to finish it ;u; Unfortunately only the muse can decide when it’s time to slap me with enough serotonin to work on this, so I rode the high from recent art and wrapped it up! It’s not as clean as I wanted, but you know what, have it anyway.

-Myst -----

Finally. Another shift in the books.

With a heavy sigh, Luka stretches his back as the clock chimes up on the wall over the glass doors. Deft fingers untie the back before he slips the fabric apron over his head. A light snap of magnets punctuates the white noise of steaming coffee machines, and Luka stuffs his nametag into his pants pocket.

Luka was embarrassed to think about how much of a struggle it was to steady on for the entirety of the workday. Stress ate at him all the time, over so many things. Harriet was priority number one - did he remember to prep her meals for the day? Was she still ok, back in the apartment? Was Professor Popcorn in need of more repairs? Luka would happily handle such a task, of course, but...

He wasn't guaranteed to have thumbs when the evening finally came. There was his time limit to think about.

"Hey Luka?"

Damn, but being cursed was such a pain. Chopping vegetables was a particular bane of his existence. How could he trust himself with a knife like that? Ugh. He hated to make Harriet do it - no child should be wielding a knife before the age of 13, for any reason. He'd just have to MacGyver a solution or something.

"Luka..."

And on top of that, he had the upcoming bills to fret over. Rent was due in a few days, and he'd made a decent amount in tips, but they could not afford to have their upstairs neighbor burst a pipe again. He and Harriet had spent the entire afternoon toweling up their poor carpets to avoid getting mildew. Or worse, bugs. Luka was a fan of bugs, but not in his carpets, or sneaking into the mattress where they could bite his daughter.

"HEY!"

This time, the voice manages to pierce the haze of worry writhing in Luka's brain. Jolting to attention, the auburn-haired adult turns around, blinking owlishly at his colleague, Clover.

The braided redhead is giving him a wan smile, her brows furrowed in worry as she sets down a large bag of coffee beans under the counter.

"You spaced out again, buddy. Did you hear a word I said?" the barista asks, folding her arms over her stained apron.

"Uhh... you said my name," Luka replied, feeling a bit awkward as he chuckles once. "Sorry, I probably missed anything you might have asked me."

"I was asking if you ever go out."

"Ah- what?"

That was unexpected. Go out?

"You know-" Clover holds up her hands to gesture to the world in general, and beyond the coffee shop doors "-out! Like, with friends or anybody?"

Ah.

Luka laughs once, rubbing a hand on one side of his face.

"You mean since I moved into town? Nah, not really. Me and my daughter have only been here a few months - can't say we made many friends just yet."

Nor was that a risk they could take. Who knows how long they could stay here, before he was inevitably found out? One could argue it was a risk just- doing what he was doing now. Trying to hold a job, staying in an apartment; a semi-permanent living situation. They'd been on the road so long, old habits were quite hard to break. And if he was entirely honest with himself, Luka didn't know yet if he felt safe, even six months past the first day he arrived in the rural town of Subcon.

Clover's frown deepens, her arms dropping back to her sides. Her dropped guard betrays her worry, before she tries to play it off with another lighthearted smile and upbeat words.

"Oh come on, it can't have been that long since you've just done something fun for the sake of it. When was the last time you went out with friends and enjoyed yourself?" she asks.

"Why is this important?" Luka asks, his own guard slowly rising. He didn't quite see where she was going with this, but he wasn't sure he'd like it.

Oops- maybe not the most polite way to phrase that, as he sees an awkward flinch on Clover's face. Quick, recover! Luka chuckles once, also trying to lighten the mood.

"You and MJ never really asked me that kind of stuff before. I thought I was hired to serve coffee, not tea."

"We serve both, ya doofus," Clover smirks, rubbing one of her well-muscled arms with the other in a self-conscious gesture. "You should know that, since you've been working here almost four months now. And uh- well, MJ just kind of noticed you always seem very tired whenever you leave work."

Luka smiles back, but it's forced. Careful. Don't give any hints that it's anything serious. Don't be suspicious.

"Oh, that? I uh- I'm not used to the retail scene. I'll probably adapt to it soon."

Clover doesn't seem convinced. Still, her expression is sympathetic, rather than judgmental or suspicious. She leans her back on the counter, looking over Luka's exhausted demeanor and baggy eyes with a skeptical smile.

"I'm sure you will." She rests her hands on the counter. "In the meantime, you should go out for bowling with me and MJ! We were planning this outing for about a week, and maybe you'd wanna come with?"

Luka stops mid-folding of his apron. He turns toward Clover with surprise.

"Bowling? As in- knocking over pins in an alley, bowling?"

Clover rolls her eyes, amused. "No, as in rolling cereal bowls. Yes, that kind of bowling, Luka. It'll be fun! Eat some cheap pizza, knock over pins, watch the uncanny valley animations on the TV screen, the whole shebang. You up for joining us?"

"I uh- I didn't know there was a bowling alley here?" Luka says, his voice pitching up as he gives a sheepish laugh. "I- I don't know..."

Shit.

He could already feel the first touches of his curse starting to well up. A quick glance to his hands- okay, no purple yet. But it was coming.

Luka tucks his hands behind his back just in case.

"I'm not sure, I have Harriet to worry about..." he fumbles, rushing to think of excuses. It hurts his heart a little when he sees the disappointed expression Clover wears.

"Are you sure?" she asks, her tone gentle. "It'll only be a for a couple of hours - I could ask Cookie next door if she'd be willing to handle your daughter for the night. She's a fantastic sitter, and your daughter would have Mu to play with."

Luka opened his mouth, preparing to turn it down- then closed it again, brows furrowed as he chews over the thought.

Only a few hours... hm. His curse's current time limit was somewhere a little short of eight hours, he was sure. As long as he didn't have to pick up a shift at work, he would have most of his day free to spend out of the motel. An outing to a bowling alley couldn't possibly last eight hours, though he'd... never actually gone bowling before.

"I.... don't know... I've never been bowling, I'll just hold you back-"

"Nonsense," Clover says, waving off his excuse immediately. "MJ and I aren't professionals or anything, Luka - it's just for fun! You've never been?? That means you've gotta try it, at least once. Please?"

...mmh. Luka would be lying if he said he wasn't very tempted. But he had so much to worry about! His daughter, his curse... keeping his job, being able to support the two of them. Not to mention, getting used to his slow camaraderie with Clover and MJ. That sort of outing would throw their friendship into first gear.

"It's ok," Clover interrupts his thoughts, standing back up straight as she grabs a rag and finishes wiping down the counter. "You don't have to come, we just thought... you know, it might be fun. You look like you need some serious time to unwind, dude. All we ever see of you is showing up to work, dealing with customers, then you leave. And hey, if you change your mind, the offer's still open."

Luka curls his fingers, foot tapping the floor in small fidget.

"Well, I'm gonna start closing up the back," Clover says, tossing the rag into a laundry bin next to the employee break room. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Wait!"

Clover stops, turning around with the laundry basket.

"What day were you planning to do it?"

What am I thinking?? I can't go on an outing with them!

Unaware of Luka's silent stresses, Clover beams, her smile lighting up once again.

"Saturday! Would that work for you?"

"Mnhg- maybe?" Luka concedes, forcing his own sheepish smile despite his brain screaming No nO this is a bad idea! His mouth continues to run away from him. "Saturday is my errand day - me and Harriet go out for groceries in the morning, and eat out at whatever lunch restaurant she picks. I wouldn't be open until the evening, and Sunday's game day for me and my daughter."

Bad idea, what are you doing?!

"That's perfect!" Clover says, delighted and still not privy to Luka's inner struggle. "If we close the shop at five, we can drive to the bowling alley around 5:30, play a game or two and eat. Should go until about... eight-ish? How's that sound?"

Say no, say NO!

"Sure, sounds fun."

AGH!

"Great!" Clover says, a skip in her step as she lopes off to the back room with the laundry basket. "I'll text MJ to let him know - he's already gone back to his apartment."

"Yeah, I'll uh- I'll text him too," Luka chuckles, scratching behind his head with one hand- and immediately putting a stop to that action, as he feels the points of sharp claws dig at his scalp. Both arms are dropped and tucked behind his back, a big smile on his face. "Gotta give him the full details and everything, haha..."

"No problem- see you!" Clover bids Luka goodbye, waving one hand as she cheerily hauls the laundry bin off into the back.

"Bye!" Luka says, his voice cracking from nerves.

Oh thank god she's gone.

Luka pulls his hands back out into view, and sees the telltale purple staining begin to creep up his flesh. Peck. It was already starting- Clover left just in time. He could already feel the sharp ends of his canines starting to poke into his bottom lip. He didn't have much left of the day in human form- he had to get home right now.

Snatching up his belongings from his locker, stuffing his work apron inside, Luka loops his bag over his shoulder and leaps over the service counter. He missed the rack of sugar packets this time, thankfully, his sneakers squeaking on the tile floor as he bolts out the door. The bell rings as the glass entryway opens and shuts, signaling his departure. Car keys are whipped out of his bag, a slowly deforming finger just managing to push the button to unlock the vehicle as he clambers inside. Just five minutes- he could make five minutes.

The engine of the car roars to life, and Luka zips off out of the employee parking space, trying his best to ignore it as his fingers swell and fuse together, and his eyes reflect golden light in the rear view mirror.

------

MJ's car putters up to outside the bowling alley, fixing his blue-dyed hair with a sigh. Clover, in the passenger seat, drums her hand on the door handle with excitement.

"This is gonna be so much fun," she says, turning to look over her shoulder at the stiff and uncomfortable Luka in the backseat. "I'm so glad you decided to come, Luka- we'll show you the ropes of bowling!"

"Great," the young man says, putting up another shaky smile as his fingers tense around his kneecaps. "Can't wait!"

"That's the spirit," MJ speaks up, giving Luka a quick smile of his own before twisting the key in the ignition. The car's engine dies down, the doors unlocking as MJ shifts the gear into park. "Clover told me you were nervous about hanging out, and that's completely fine by me - if you feel uncomfortable and don't want to stay, just let us know, ok? We'll drive you back to the apartment building, no hesitation."

Luka inhaled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh from the back seat of the car. It felt like his nerves were trying to shake him apart. A glance at his watch-

Was he really going forward with this?

...Yes. He was. As much as Luka worried, Clover had been right. It'd been far too long since he'd taken 'me' time.

Luka puts a hand on the door and pulls the handle, stepping out of the car before he has a chance to psyche himself out.

It's just a couple hours. He still had plenty of time, after his midday outings with Harriet.

Stay calm. You can do this.

The sign above the brick building shines with neon lights, saying 'Pins & Cushions' in bright blue and red. The backdrop is a painting that Luka can swear was painted in the 80s, displaying a bowling ball as it barrels into pins and knocking them askew with a cartoony impact mark.

"Pins & Cushions?" he says aloud, smirking a little bit.

"Kind of silly, right?" MJ speaks up, locking the car behind him with a click. "Sounds more like a sewing parlor than a bowling alley."

"It's because they boasted having cushioned chairs," Clover says, snickering. "You've never been, but most bowling alleys have these awful plastic chairs that hurt to sit on for too long."

"You mean like the chairs in high school?"

Luka's joke earns a quick bark of a laugh from Clover.

"Couched seating areas in a bowling alley was, sadly, a craze that never caught on," MJ says, ascending the concrete steps up to the building. "But this one did, and the place is like forty years old and too stubborn to change, so your butt will thank you later."

When the doors open, Luka is immediately washed with a cocktail of smells he didn't think could- nor should- ever go together. First and foremost is the thick smell of plastic and rubber, followed by the chemical odor of cleaning sprays, and the sizzling smell of burning cheese. Air conditioning blasts them from above as the three young adults enter the bowling alley, the doors sliding shut behind their backs. The sounds hit next - a cacophonous mix of rubber soles squeaking on polished floors, heavy objects falling and rolling, and the clatter of pins falling into the trap at the far end of the establishment.

It was loud, smelled strange, and the carpet looked lifted straight out of an arcade.

Luka was torn between anxiety, and a strange sort of excitement he hadn't felt in a long, long time. This was something new, something unfamiliar- he had hours to enjoy himself, and spend time not worrying about stresses of life. Harriet had a sitter, paid in advance with an alarm for when he would return, and he was out with- friends? Had him accepting this invitation solidified their friendship at this point? ...the thought made a happy butterfly flutter in his stomach.

This would be a great evening, he could feel it.

"Earth to Luka." MJ's amused tone causes Luka to jump. "Something on your mind? You're smiling."

"Oh- uh- nothing," Luka says, scratching behind his head sheepishly. "Just- thanks. For inviting me. I think I really did need this a lot."

"YEAH you do!" Clover thumps him on the back with one hand. "Come on! You have to give your shoes to the clerk so they can give you your bowling shoes."

"Ah, what? I have to take off my shoes on this carpet?" Luka complains, lifting a foot with distaste. "I feel like I'm stepping on twenty-year-old candy."

"It's part of the charm!" Clover sings, already removing one of her sneakers. "It's either this, or slip all over the place on the actual alley floor. You're getting the full bowling experience whether you like it or not, coffee boy."

"Ex-CUSE me!" Luka says with a dramatic gasp, hopping on one foot as he works to remove his own shoes. "I think you will find I'm a coffee man, thank you."

"Coffee twink," Clover counters.

"No, that's MJ."

"HEY! I will call lion's share of the tips for that one," MJ shakes a sneaker at them both in a mock scolding gesture.

"YOU'RE BOTH COFFEE TWINKS," Clover declares to the entire establishment as she fights off her last sneaker, racing for the counter before the others can catch up. "HURRY UP, COFFEE TWINKS, WE NEED TO PICK OUT BOWLING BALLS."

"I have dibs on the galaxy patterned one!" MJ yells after Clover.

Clover gives MJ an evil grin as she takes her bowling shoes and pays the rental fee, tying them before sauntering over to the racks of bowling balls. Her hand hovers over the selection, giving a teasing pause over the bowling ball made with swirled star plastic.

"Don't you dare," MJ hisses from the counter, pointing an accusing finger at Clover as he hands over the money for both his and Luka's rental shoes.

"It's either the tips share, or the bowling ball! You decide!" Clover yells back, drumming her fingers on the coveted starry bowling ball.

"Fiiiiine," MJ says with a dramatic tone, though his smile gives away his mirth. "You know I wasn't going to take the tips anyway, Clo."

"I know~" she says, giggling while she moves on to a different rack of bowling balls. "And you know I wouldn't do that to your poor weak arms, either, Moonie."

Luka finishes tying his rental shoes, thanking MJ before he makes his way down the small stairway to the alleys. It's very bright in this section of the building, with cushioned couches surrounding tables and standing consoles. Metal railings and a chute of some kind were positioned at each alleyway, some with bowling balls sitting idle atop the metal racks.

"So, what now?" Luka asks, the excitement of wading into unknown waters welling in his chest again.

"Pick a bowling ball!" Clover says, gesturing to the racks of heavy plastic spheres. "You'll want a heavy one, but not too heavy for you to lift and throw."

"Go easy on us, Clover." MJ shakes his head as he picks up his favorite starry ball. "Ms. Gun Show and her fourteen-pound bowling ball."

The redhead leans over and scoops up a swirled green bowling ball, hefting it on one arm and pumping it like a weight.

"You might get some guns yourself if you helped me landscape and move sod around my garden, Coffee Twink #1," she says, flexing a bicep.

"I refuse to acknowledge that nickname."

"Sorry, it's our team name now," Clover laughs, "the Coffee Twinks!"

"Hey, I thought our team name was the Comets?!"

"That was before Luka joined the team - now it's a 2-to-1 twink majority, I don't make the rules."

Luka just has his face in his hands, laughing through the whole exchange as he leans on the metal racks.

"You're just as bad as Harriet!" Luka laughs, pushing his hair back out of his eyes with one hand. "I don't even know where she learned that word - Cookie's daughter, probably?"

"Definitely," MJ says with a thousand yard stare, earning more laughter from Luka. "Go pick a bowling ball, I'll get the console up and running for our game."

Wiping tears from his eyes, chuckling under his breath, Luka turns to the racks and peruses the selection. The bowling balls come in all colors - most are black or dark brown, but there's a rather delightful mix of brighter hues like pink, blue and yellow. Some are marbled, some have glitter in the plastic, and a few very beat-up bowling balls have graphics of cartoon characters that were popular in the 90s. Well-loved by the children who patronize this establishment, he was sure. Harriet would love the Scooby-Doo ball - oh no wait. The one themed after a Pokeball, for sure was her poison of choice. And clearly the pick of the litter for many other children, as it was covered in scratches and dents from decades of use.

Ah- there was one themed after a jack-o-lantern! How fitting. He loops his fingers into the grip holes of the bowling ball, and heaves it off of the rack- only to almost crush his toes as the weight yanks his arms to the floor.

That was- heavier than expected!

"Oooooh, nice pick," Clover says, spinning her own bowling ball in her hands. "You sure you can carry it, though? That's a 10-pounder."

"I'll be fine-" Luka says, grunting as he lifts it back up with both hands this time. "Just- caught me off guard, is all."

"Alright, game's all set," MJ announces from the console.

Above their heads, a large tube television flashes blue before displaying a score board.

A loud k-chunk k-chunk k-chunk of machinery draws Luka's eye toward the other end of the alley. Metal rigging and machinery descend from the covered roof of the pin trap. Resembling a large soda crate, the rig drops an array of ten white bowling pins, before unclamping and ascending back into the darkness of whatever creation of god resided in that ceiling.

"You're up first, Clo," MJ says, waving a hand to indicate she should move forward.

"Watch and learn," Clover throws Luka a smile, the competitive taunt dampened by her genuinely helpful tone. "You want to throw the ball so it rolls like this-"

Stepping forward onto the squeaky, smooth polished wooden platform, Clover lifts her bowling ball to her chest. With a quick inhale, she lopes forward two steps, swinging her arm back with the bowling ball, before reeling it forward on the last stride and underhand throwing it into the aisle. The heavy green bowling ball lands with a tHDD before skidding its way down the oiled track, rolling in a long, smooth line. The swirled green sphere smacks into the bowling pins with a loud tHWAKK!!, sending all but one of the pins flying into the darkness beyond. The ball disappears into the hole, and Clover puts her hands on her hips with a huff.

"Damn, almost got a strike." Clover snaps her fingers, shrugging. The green bowling ball clatters back up the chute. She grips her fingers into the trio of holes again, and goes for another throw.

The bowling ball rolls down the course, straight as an arrow for the last pin. The pin spins off the wooden platform into the darkness, earning a whoop from Clover.

"Nice, got a spare!" Clover declares, throwing her arms up in triumph. She sashays her way back to the couches. "Who's up next?"

"I'm up," MJ says, standing from the console. Looping his fingers into his own starry bowling ball, MJ rolls his shoulders and steps up onto the oiled wooden planks. "I'm going to get the first strike of the day, just wait."

"Sure you will," Clover snickers as MJ winds up.

When he releases the ball, it rolls at very high speed- before curving halfway down the track, the topspin he put on the ball causing it veer off course and land in the gutter.

Face flushed, MJ coughs into his hand, suddenly very invested in fixing his shirt as Clover grins. The galaxy ball returns to the trough, and MJ pointedly picks it up again, winding up for his second throw. The bowling ball rocks down the course, and knocks over about six pins, leaving a corner of the triangle still standing.

"Woo!" Clover cheers, clapping as MJ returns to the seating. She reaches over and nudges Luka on the shoulder. "You're up, Luke! Show us whatchu got!"

Heart in his throat, Luka stands from his seat and steps up.

The bowling ball grins up at him, daring him to chicken out. It was heavy in his hand. Still, he walked up onto the polished floor, feeling the rubber on the bottom of his shoes as it grips the oiled surface.

Fighting the weight of the heavy bowling ball, Luka takes a step forward, swinging his arm back before bringing it back around like a pendulum. The ball hits the track with a heavy thDD as it’s released, sent rolling off down the track. Around the halfway point, it spins off course and lands in the gutter with a clunk.

“Aww,” Clover says, leaning over the chair cushion. “And you had such good posture, too.”

“It’s ok,” MJ speaks up, seeing Luka’s visible embarrassment. “It’s your first time bowling! Nothing to be ashamed of. You have another shot before we rotate players.”

Disappointed, Luka rubs at his arm. Well, that was a less than encouraging performance. But he noticed the angle of the spin on the ball. Maybe he could fix that.

The ball clatters up the chute back into the return trough. Luka picks it up with a huff of breath, holding it to his chest as he does mental calculations. If he turned his wrist at just the right point...

Stepping forward, Luka swings back and releases the ball, putting a top spin on the ball at the last possible moment-

The jack-o-lantern face rockets down the alley, the path straight until the very last second. It curves to hit the front pin from the side, knocking every single pin into the abyss beyond.

"OHHHHH!" Clover and MJ exclaim, clapping with enthusiasm as Luka looks stunned.

"You got a strike!" Clover says, applauding with a big grin. "You were totally pulling our legs about being a newbie to this, huh??"

"I think I just got lucky," Luka tries to play it off, feeling an uncommon shyness as he smiles.

Clover shakes her head, not having it.

"Luck nothing! That was pure talent, and you got a strike, dude!"

"Technically that was a spare, but still a strike in my book," MJ says as he rotates the turn order on the console, giving Luka a smile and a thumbs up.

"Oh let him have it, Moon Moon," Clover laughs as MJ throws her a pout. "Our new boy's got game!"

Luka hunches his shoulders, an awkward smile curling across his cheeks as he walks back over to the couches. Clover jumps to attention and makes her way to the track, picking up her green bowling ball for another round as he sits down.

This was... much more fun than he had expected it to be. The background noise of the bowling alley was surprisingly pleasant. He found he could get used to the dull odor of plastic and cleaner- and honestly, that hot cheese smell from what must be the pizzeria was tempting his stomach. But best of all was the camaraderie he could feel sparking between him, Clover, and MJ. Were they officially friends now? Or had they been already, and he was just- in denial? If Luka was entirely honest with himself, probably the latter. MJ and Clover had been nothing but kind and understanding, to him. His sporadic hours and excuses had done nothing to faze them with regards to their treatment of him at work. They still offered him drinks and invited him on this outing, offering even to pay for his expenses, didn't they?

"Hey Luka!" A call from MJ breaks him out of the small reverie. "You're up, again."

"And after this round, we can hit the arcade! I bet I can out-dance you on DDR, Coffee Twinks," Clover smirks.

"No betting. I know you can."

Maybe- maybe he had nothing to worry about.

---

The evening is going fantastic.

The first bowling game had been a pretty close match between Luka and Clover. Clover had the arm strength to pull off some mean and fast throws, but Luka had developed a system. Figuring out how to spin the bowling ball just the right amount had made up for his noodle arms and less weighty bowling ball. It wasn't long before he figured out how to roll a pretty straight record of spares and strikes, with the occasional 7-10 split. After bowling around, they went into the arcade section, with an entire paper roll of quarters to blow on games. A vicious Ms. Pacman multiplayer match had led to MJ smoking all three of them, and as predicted, Clover out-danced both of the boys on the DDR and Stepmania machines. Luka had to collapse over a nearby chair with exhaustion after his matches. He'd finished off the arcade run with a very lucky pull from a claw machine, winning a black cat plush with big yellow eyes that he was definitely going to enjoy giving to Harriet.

The three of them sat around their table at the bowling console again, laughing over a hot cheese and pepperoni pizza.

"No way, you didn't!" Luka gasps, wheezing for air.

"I did! I punched his goddamn lights out!" Clover laughs, slapping one knee. "The guy was being a huge creep, so I introduced him to my fist."

"I hope you didn't get in trouble with the cops or something for that." Luka tilts his head, giving her an impressed and worried look.

"Can't get in trouble if nobody reports it," MJ chimes in, smirking past his soda cup. "He complained to me, but I had the security tapes AND plausible deniability because I wasn't on the floor. Corporate took our side on this."

"Nobody from the city wants to drive all the way out to podunk Subcon for a random dudebro's complaint." Clover sits back on her cushioned seat, chomping into her pizza happily. "Mmmmm- delicious melty cheese."

Luka chomps into his own pizza, exhaling and blowing on it as it nearly burns his mouth.

"Easy, tiger!" MJ smirks around his own mouthful of pizza.

"I know, it's just so good," Luka says, laughing into his hand as he sips some of his cola. "But in like- the way you know it's not that great? Does that make sense?"

"Night in the Woods taught me the Pizza Scale, and I stick by that," Clover says, crunching through her crust to grab up another slice, washing down the bread with some soda. When she reaches for another piece of the pie, she pauses, and lets out a huff. "Oh, that sucks. I guess they didn't clean the bowling balls that well this time. Gross."

"Hm?" Luka says through a mouthful of pizza.

"Your fingers are all oil-stained from the finger holes on the bowling ball, Luka. Big Al needs to wash the bowling balls properly."

Confused, the law student shifts his attention down.

The ends of his fingertips are discolored with ebony purple.

Luka can feel as his brain zeroes in on the first sign of his impending transformation, and begins to shift into emergency mode as it relays the steps he must take in order to avoid further exposure. He'd gone over this information with himself many times over the past five years. It was ingrained in his mind, what he had to do, the information practically screaming at him. But he can't hear it. His ears are filled with buzzing as reality breaks into the facade he'd slowly built up over the course of hours.

No-

No no no-

His pizza slice drops to the paper plate as he fumbles with his bag, pulling out the cell phone from the liner pocket. Shaking fingers tap the screen with frantic speed, trying to turn the damn thing on-

9:17?

They'd been here nearly four hours?!

He'd spent the morning out with Harriet, doing their grocery shopping and walking around the town's outdoor mall as much needed father-daughter time. Eight hours of being in disguise had long since passed.

His time limit was up.

This couldn't be happening. Yet the numbers stare back at him from the glare of his cell phone screen. They even have the nerve to tick over to 9:18 right before his eyes.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening! It wasn't fair!

"Luka, you ok? You're turning pale..."

Clover's question just barely manages to pierce the haze, causing Luka to jolt in his seat. Posture stiff and breath shallow, he lifts his head to meet Clover's questioning eyes. She's staring at him with building concern, her smile becoming a frown of worry.

The tension is palpable in the air as Luka struggles to find words. Finally, he manages to say something.

"It's- it's a quarter past nine-"

"Oh shoot-" Clover says, sitting up abruptly as she grabs her own phone.

MJ checks his watch, wincing. "Oof. Sorry, Luka. I guess we lost track of time passing. I'll apologize to Cookie for the overtime, we can finish this round and go-"

"Don't feel good- going to the bathroom-" Luka wheezes, scrambling to his feet as he scoops all of his belongings into his bag and races past MJ's seat.

"Luka!" Clover yells after him, her heightened concern audible in her voice. "Ok, we'll- we'll start cleaning up! Let us know if you need-!"

Her words are cut off by the slam of the bathroom door. Luka's bowling shoes slip over the slick tile floor, his hands gripping onto the cold porcelain of the bathroom sink to steady himself. He brings his shaking hands up to view in the mirror. The blackening purple skin was spreading up his finger joints, reaching his palms.

No- not now! Why now?

Luka clenches his fists and his jaw, focusing every ounce of his will on making the purple go away. He can almost feel a vein pop on his forehead- if he still had veins, anymore- as he strains to make his unwilling body follow his desires. The purple starts to recede at a caterpillar crawl... but it slows. And the harder he tries, the more he can feel his arms struggle to hold their shape - becoming less solid.

"No- no!" he whimpers, clenching his hands into the sink again. The action splatters small droplets of purple sludge against the porcelain, which vanish moments later as the purple staining once more consumes his fingers - and now his palms. "Stop it! Just- let me be human! Please!"

He lifts his head to the mirror. Despair fills his gut as he sees amber eyes staring back at him in the reflection, and the beginnings of an inner glow fighting to come out from the back of his throat.

Luka lets out a wordless sound of sorrow, lifting an arm to pound one fist against the mirror in vain. The reflection is unfazed in its destitution, tears beginning to gather at the edges of its eyes and mouth set into a sob of clenched teeth. The reflection's canine's lengthen several inches as the eyes stare back, accusingly. The purple was starting to spread up its neck, just poking out the collar of the shirt.

"No..."

This wasn't him. But it had been, years ago. This was SUPPOSED to be him.

He curls his fist, watching as the fingers start losing their shape. Fusing together, becoming single digits and his thumbs vanish back into the purple sludge of the limb.

"I was finally-..." Luka whimpers, "...I finally felt human again."

-bang bang bang-

The sound of a fist knocking on the bathroom door causes Luka to yelp and jump back from the mirror.

"Luka? You ok in there?"

It was MJ.

Peck!

Grabbing his bag, Luka books it into the furthest stall of the bathroom. He slams the metal door behind him, fumbling to lock it with his swelling mitten fingers. Alarm shot through his gut as his shirt felt tight around his torso. Already?? This was faster than usual! Had he really pushed it that much?

"Hey man, are you sick? Clover and I are really concerned. Do you need any help in there?"

"NO! NO I'M GOOD!" Luka yells from the bathroom stall, clapping a two-fingered hand over his mouth as he hears the slight reverb echo to his own voice. Dammit! "I'M JUST- I'LL BE FINE!"

He was not fine, he would most certainly not be fine!

"Luka, you sound croaky." It was Clover this time, probably a short distance behind MJ. "Dude, are you sure? MJ, maybe you should go in and check on him-"

"NO!"

No, the reverb was stronger!

"Luka, I'm coming in."

"MJ it's fine!"

Luka could hear the seams of his shirt starting to stretch and strain. The seconds were ticking by as strings started to pop at the neck.

Shit, shit!

Luka turned left and right, the stall cramped and uncomfortable as the ruff of fur around his neck thickens and threatens to burst his shirt open. He needed a way out!

Aha! A small window, to the outside! Wow, that was probably the worst location for a window. And it was so small-

The door creaked as MJ started to turn the handle.

NO TIME!

Luka makes a dive for the window. His fingers catch on the sill, and he hauls his body up onto the tiny ledge, his head pushing up the glass and emerging out into the open air. Squeezing through the narrow space, he struggles to pull his feet through, kicking off the bowling shoes and hearing them clatter to the tiles below.

The door comes unlatched, and MJ enters the bathroom, looking around with a frown.

Luka was gone. And for some reason, his bowling shoes were abandoned on the questionably cleaned bathroom floor.

Just outside the window, tucked next to the wall of the alleyway outside the bowling alley, Luka is panting with adrenaline. He can feel his chest expand further with each breath, the fur mane around his neck already splitting apart his shirt. His fingers had fully lost their human shape by now, coalescing back into the familiar mitts he hated so much. A reminder that, no, he wasn't human. No matter what those people in the bowling alley thought of him, and what he thought of them in return... no matter how much he wanted to be human, again.

"Luka?"

His entire torso now fully drenched in purple, Luka hangs his head, listening as he fights to strip off the shirt suffocating him.

Footsteps, in the bathroom.

"...Luka? What the-... Clover, he's not here?"

"What?? But he- went into the bathroom! He was just-!"

"His shoes are here..."

"His shoes??"

Luka forces himself to stand, wobbling a bit further away from the window as he focuses all of his efforts on keeping his legs. He can't lose his ability to walk, not in the middle of town!

God dammit... god dammit! Why couldn't he just enjoy his night? Now he was wandering alleyways, half transformed, and MJ and Clover were no doubt worried to hell and back. What could he even say? 'Sorry, had to take a break to wolf out in the bathroom'?

-brrring brrring-

The buzz of the phone in his pants pocket- which was getting tight against his waist, he noticed. Luka quickly extracts the phone before it can be damaged by the fabric.

MJ's caller ID stares back at him from the screen.

The decision to trust these two with his information was biting him in his rapidly purpling behind. He'd been so careful not to slip up, and the ONE TIME he makes a mistake... He had another decision to make. He could not respond, and just be a complete asshole, but he could protect his secret a little safer, for just a little bit longer. Or he could pick up, and... he didn't know. Bullshit something? Would they even believe whatever malarkey he could cook up in seven seconds for bailing out of a bowling alley restroom? God, he was terrible at improvised excuses! He was a lawyer, not an actor! But if he answered the phone call, maybe- maybe he could hold on to that feeling again. The warmth of companionship of peers his age, that he hadn't felt since law school. Since... Vanessa. But he couldn't think about her right now. What mattered was his safety- his daughter's safety.

Peck. He didn't even think about that part. Could he really rip Harriet out of a somewhat stable home life, again? She was just starting to get along with Cookie's daughter, and he didn't want to take that precious first friendship from her.

Luka was only pulled out of the downward spiral by the vibration of the phone, which he only now realized had registered a missed call, and was now on the second call. It was still MJ, the picture of him in his Horizon employee cap still smiling from the bright phone screen.

He had to do something. He could feel his legs protest the form they was struggling to hold.

Survival instinct set in. First, he had to get away from the scene.

Stumbling to his malforming feet, Luka jogs away from the alley, ducking away from the Pins & Cushions and avoiding the bright neon sign on the side of the building.

As he walks, a headache hits, and Luka just knows his face was losing more of his familiar features. Didn't need a mirror to know that he was definitely the shade of a bruised plum, and that his eyes were glowing like gold beacons. The sharp teeth at the edges of his mouth were digging into his bottom lip as he dodges and weaves to avoid line of sight from storefront apartment windows.

The woods were so close by, just a few more blocks.

Faster. He had to run faster. But his legs- were fighting him! Already he could feel his steps become lighter, movement more fluid. It was a struggle to keep a walking stride, rather than just- leap into the air. No way was he going to fly a block from pecking main street.

His phone continues to vibrate, threatening the call to drop.

Right when he reaches the sidewalk, Luka pants for breath, collapsing beside the pole for a street lamp while avoiding the amber spotlight. Taking one last rueful look at his phone, he sighs, and presses the answer button with a doughy purple finger.

"Luka?" MJ's voice patches through. The reception isn't great, but it's sufficient. Maybe that was a lucky break, considering what his voice was going to sound like in a second.

"Hey," Luka answers. Yep. He sounded like a toad that swallowed a brass tube. "Sorry- about that."

"Dude, are you ok?? Where did you go?" MJ spoke so quickly it almost interrupted Luka, concern clear and evident in his voice. "You ran or something and- you left your shoes at the counter, and the cat plush for your daughter. Clover got them for you-"

"It's ok," Luka says, wincing. "I can pick them up tomorrow. I- don't feel well, and I have to go get Harriet."

"Luka, we could have driven you home for that," MJ responds, a hint of hurt and confusion. "You know you can tell us if you're uncomfortable, and want to leave, right?"

"No- this- I was having fun," Luka responds, cupping a hand over his mouth to try to muffle the echo. He had to wrap this up. His voice was getting less natural by the second. He really hoped the poor reception would mask it. "Look- I'm sorry MJ. But I really had to go."

"You're not getting kidnapped or something are you?" Clover's distant voice suddenly patches through in the phone. MJ must have his phone on speaker. "Because if you are, I'll hunt them down! Just yell where the car is taking you!"

"I'm not- look, I'm sorry, but I just had to go, ok?" Luka says. "Harriet needs me."

"I thought you were feeling sick?" Clover says, her worried tone now tinted with... suspicion. "You ran to the bathroom, and we were all worried about you, dude." Her voice becomes just a bit distant, as she turns to speak to MJ, but the phone picks it up. “Actually, did we ever hear anything from Cookie...?”

"No- I am-" Luka can feel his lies crumbling, nearly becoming true as he experiences a sensation similar to his stomach heaving from the anxiety. "Thanks for the wonderful evening, I'll pick up my stuff later- bye!"

"Wait-!!"

-click-

MJ's protest is cut off, and Luka set the phone down on the grass, putting his head in the other hand. That was terrible. But he couldn't back out on it now. He would just have to deal with the consequences of that phone call tomorrow.

Not like having shoes or not bothered him, anyway.

Exhausted and resigned, Luka slides away from the lamp post into the chaparral, and begins rapidly pulling his shirt over his head. No way was he going to lose another shirt, not after the last one. This was his last nice shirt, and he intended to keep it as long as possible!

A quiet gasp jolts him out of his frantic folding.

Luka whips around, shirtless, half de-pantsed, and his body a full shade of deep shadow purple. His golden eyes glow in the reflected street light as he freezes on the spot, making eye contact with another human being across the road. It was the stocky mustachioed man from the coffee shop- the regular who came by and sketched quietly in a corner. Pinstriped suit- which seemed to be the only outfit anyone ever saw him wore- an apron, and grey khaki pants. The thick glasses would make it difficult to tell where he was looking, if the man wasn't standing with his square jaw hanging down at his chest, head angled directly toward Luka. Everyone dismissed him as a paranoiac, a hermit who stopped by for his morning caffeine fix and quiet atmosphere to indulge in his imagination. Rumors flew that he used to work for some sort of tabloid magazine, and was fired- or promoted?- for how crazy his stories were.

Whatever the reason, this man was now standing, groceries dropped to the pavement, and staring at Luka. A very half-naked, absolutely not human-looking Luka.

Face suddenly burning hot with embarrassment and fear, Luka grabs his belt loops and bolts into the trees.

The movement causes the man to only gape more, making a wordless noise of astonishment before the forest breaks their line of sight and Luka retreats into the safety of the woods. Luka just barely remembers to grab his shirt and belt from the bushes. Vanishing entirely from sight, stumbling over debris as his transformation takes full hold of his body, Luka wheezes as his heart beats in his chest. After all that, he was seen! Peck! Did he just ruin everything because he wasn’t paying attention? But- but it was just the local hermit, the resident conspiracy nut. That wouldn’t be so bad, right? This wasn’t as catastrophic as being spotted by a teen with a cell phone open. Surely, this was the safest possible person in town to accidentally spot him mid-transformation. Repercussions would be minimal.

Thank god the man didn't have a camera.

[persepholline]

I've read that article about the romanticization of the Darkling and while I absolutely understand people who are pissed off/sad and I agree that it's shitty, I find LB's attitude towards Darkles stans very funny in a "girl what are you doing" sort of way because it's so petty like I've never heard of a bestselling author writing a portion of their fans into their books as a crazy cult before, it clearly hit a nerve

I'm new to the fandom but the feeling I get is she wrote something problematic ten years ago and became very embarrassed about it afterwards so she turned on the fans that liked it as a way to absolve herself. Especially since fandoms in general have become a lot more focused on discussion of what constitutes healthy/acceptable relationships to write about. And in a way I get it I had a huge Twilight phase in high school and afterwards I was super embarassed about it because of how problematic and cringe it was. But now with distance and more maturity I'm able to both still see why it was problematic and also why I was drawn to it (mostly the very unhinged representation of female desire) and like...it's really not the end of the world and no it never made me believe that breaking into somebody's room at night to watch them sleep was actually ok in real life lmao. This feels so obvious to me but apparently it needs to be said.

(More under the break this is turning into an essay, I've been thinking of this a lot recently)

And of course it's good to have these discussions about how historically romance tropes have echoed social dynamics of men's shitty behavior being romanticized and excused. But these days they often are so simplistic and focused on chasing clout that they become this weird new puritanism and moral panic about oh now women are reading novels it's going to make them hysterical or something

So you have these weird assumptions that you can't like a character and also be critical of their actions, or enjoy certain parts of a character and not others, or wish they were written differently and like them more for their potential (which I'm sure stings a bit for an author lol) - it assumes that if you like a character it means you would approve of their actions in real life, or that people just stupidly reproduce whatever they see on TV. That tendency to treat fictional characters like real people is the thing that actually worries me, to be honest, because it indicates a lack of distance and critical capacities regarding how stories are used and received. But people - fans and authors - are so scared of being called out as problematic and harassed for it that they're going to shy away from any nuance.

And yeah I think that it's good that standards of what constitutes an ideal relationship are evolving and becoming more feminist and communicative and all that and we definitely need more of that. But not all fiction has to be aspirational! Sometimes you just want to read about fucked up shit, because it's cathartic or fascinating, even healing at times because with fiction you are absolutely in control and can choose when to close the book. Toxic relationships in fiction can have an appeal specifically because they go to extremes of feeling that we don't want to go to in reality, in exactly the same way as horror movies or very violent action movies - which I don't see a lot of people besides fundamentalist Christians argue that they turn you into violent psychopaths (and that feels very obviously sexist). And for women, who are often taught growing up that love is the purpose of life, the "saving someone with your ability to love" can be a power fantasy in the same way that being a buff superhero who saves the day with their capacity for incredible violence can be a power fantasy for men. Still doesn't mean those women are going to fall in love with actual murderers or that those men are going to start beating up people at night. And love is scary, and weird, and weirdly close to horror at times, with all the potential for loss of self and being vulnerable and overwhelming feelings and potential for being horribly hurt and it should be possible for stories to explore that without anybody screaming about how this is going to Corrupt the Youth or something

And I mean I get it LB wanted to write a cautionary tale for teenagers, but it just did not work for reasons a lot of people have already written about - the fact that the Darkling is the leader of an oppressed minority and is the only one with a real political agenda to end that oppression in the first trilogy, the fact that he helps Alina come into her own power while her endgame LI is someone she keeps herself small for, that she's shamed for wanting power after growing up without any, a generally very wonky conception of privilege, and a lot of other stuff with yucky regressive implications to the point where stanning the villain actually feels liberating and empowering which is a surefire sign that the narrative is broken (unless it's a villain focused story lmao). But of course that Fanside article makes almost no mention of the political dynamics, it's all about interpersonal stuff which is an annoying trend in YA, there are those massive events happening in the background but it's made all about the feelings of the hero(ine) ; war as a self-development quest (which is kind of gross). Helnik is kind of an example of this too - I like them, I think they're fun ! But Matthias spends a big part of the story wanting to brutally murder Nina and her kind, and he mostly changes his mind because he finds her hot. Like you don't feel there is some sort of big revelation that his entire moral system and political framework is completely rotten ; it's all better because of feelings now.

As a teenager that kind of sanctimonious bullshit would have annoyed the hell out of me ; I read those books in my early twenties and I found the ending so stupid I wouldn't have trusted any message or life lessons coming from them. And I liked reading/watching dark stuff as a teenager, as a way to deal with the very intense inner turmoil I was dealing with - and I turned out fine ! Meanwhile I've seen several times women in very shitty relationships being obsessed with positive energies and stories ; they were so terrified of their life not being perfectly wholesome they ended up being delusional about their own situations.

Like personally I think the Darkling is a compelling, interesting, alluring character and also a manipulative, murderous piece of shit and that Alina should get to punish him (like in a sexy way) - but he's also the end result of centuries of war, oppression and trauma and reducing that to "toxic wounded boy" feels kind of offensive ngl ESPECIALLY since the books don't offer any kind of systemic analysis or response to oppression beyond "the bad guy should die" and "now the king/queen is a good guy our problems are solved!!!!"

In Lives of the Saints, we see how Yuri is abused extremely badly and almost killed by his father, and so when his father dies when the Fold swallows Novokribirsk, he thinks the Starless Saint has saved him. Later in KoS/RoW he's turned into this fanatic who explains away all the Darkling's crimes. The other followers talk about how the Starless Saint will bring equality for all men. Then the Darkling comes back and actually thinks his followers are pathetic, which feels again like a very pointed message to his IRL stans. Which is absolutely hilarious to me. Like oh no, if he was real he would not like you and think you're pathetic ! Yeah ...but he's not. Real. Damn right he would not like the fics where Alina puts him on a leash. I'm still going to read them. What is he going to do about it, jump out of the page ? Jfjfjjdhfgfjfj

Anyway I think the intended message is "assholes will use noble political causes for their own gain and to manipulate people" and "being abused/oppressed is not an excuse to behave badly." Which. Sure. But that's kind of like...a tired take, honestly ? A big number of villains nowadays are like this ; either they've been bullied as kids, or they're part of an oppressed group, or they have "good ideals but too extreme". This is not surprising because a lot of mainstream heroic narratives present clinging to the status quo as Good and change as chaotic and dangerous. And like sure in real life people often do bad shit because they're wounded and in danger. But if you want to do a story like that, you have to do it with nuance, talk about cycles of violence, about how society creates vulnerable people to be exploited, about how privilege gives you more choices and the luxury of morals, etc. The Grishaverse does not have this level of nuance (maybe in SoC a little bit but definitely not in TGT). So it kind of comes off as "trauma makes you evil" and "egalitarianism is dangerous" and "if you're abused/oppressed you're not allowed to fight back". And ignores the fact that historically, evil generally comes from unchecked privilege.

I guess my point is that there are many things I like about LB's writing, she knows how to create these really exciting character dynamics, and the world she has created is fascinating. But these stories are not a great starting point for imparting moral lessons. And her best characters tend to be, at least in canon, the morally grey ones. I hope one day she'll be at peace with the fact that she wrote the Darkling the way she did and leave his fans alone but in the meantime I'm just not going to take this whole thing seriously I'm sorry

[lloydskywalkers]

any port in a storm

Pixal and Lloyd and the evolving nature of friendship, as highlighted by the regular burning down of your city. 

(desperately trying to break through writer’s block and classes again, this was supposed to be under 2k and it is...very much not hdfjkgh but! i’ve been meaning to write for Pixal and Lloyd for a while so here are a whole bunch of feelings about the two of them and s8)

Pixal meets — truly meets — Lloyd Garmadon shortly after his brother’s been blown to pieces.

She says truly, because if you ask her, Pixal will tell you she met Lloyd Garmadon at exactly 8:48 in the evening outside his father’s monastery, moments before a horde of nindroids led there by Pixal herself descended upon them.

But Lloyd argues that since they said about two words total to each other, it doesn’t really count as meeting, and by the time Pixal’s spending the better part of her day with him running high and low around Ninjago City, she’s learned that it’s easier not to press the point.

Lloyd can be stubborn, like that.

She’d first learned that when she’d met him, just after they’d lost Zane. That loss hadn’t lasted long, especially for Pixal, but the immediate aftermath of it had been devastating. She’d watched with blank eyes as the team had fractured, splitting at the seams as they all fled their separate ways, too heartsore and dizzy with grief to do much otherwise.

All of them had fled, save Lloyd. She hadn’t paid him much attention before that point, the surprisingly small bearer of the Golden Power. Of course, he wasn’t the bearer of that power anymore, but his eyes alone had shown the experience of it. There’d been a brief, lost look that had crossed his face as the others had mentioned leaving, before it had been swept under a mask of stubborn, determined blankness. He wouldn’t be leaving. Someone had to stay behind and watch out for things, he’d claimed, even as the loss had bled through his voice.

Pixal hadn’t quite grasped the concept of empathy at that point, but she’d felt something dangerously close to it.

At any rate, the only interaction they’d had alone was brief. In fact, the only one Pixal can truly remember — and her memory never fails — is the quick exchange they’d had in the hospital lobby directly after the battle. The hospital was for Mr. Borg, and for the ninja’s minor injuries.

There was nothing any hospital on earth could do for Zane.

Pixal had found herself next to Lloyd in the waiting room, trying to distract herself from those thoughts while Lloyd stared at the stark white tiling with dull eyes.

“They never mentioned what your power was,” she’d asked him, almost absently. Collecting data, processing information — anything she could do to distract from the crushing grief.

“Oh.” Lloyd had blinked, startling back into awareness. He’d suddenly looked painfully young. “It’s, ah, I guess it’s just green, now.”

It had been Pixal’s turn to blink. “Green.”

“Yeah.” Lloyd had bit his lip, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, two habits he’ll never quite lose. “I mean — it’s more than that, but it’s like — energy, I guess, is the best way to put it?”

“Interesting,” Pixal had remarked.

“Yeah.”

They’d stared at each other in silence after that, before they’d both been called off to other errands — and then they were having Zane’s funeral and then Pixal was making realizations she never got to tell anyone, and that had been that in her early introductions to Lloyd Garmadon. Quiet, awkward, and possessing an incredible power he hardly even knew the name of.

Looking back, Pixal figures her introduction hadn’t gone much better.

They’d continued as passing acquaintances as time went on, separated by danger and the confines of Zane’s head, and Pixal had figured that’s all they’d ever be. But then their Sensei goes missing and, despite Pixal’s increasing disappearances on Zane as she rebuilds her own body, she’s been given the role of watching out for Ninjago city along with Lloyd.

She quickly learns that quiet is not a term fit for Lloyd Garmadon when you’re trapped alone with him.

************

“How is there not a single station playing actual music?” Lloyd seethes, flicking through the channels almost manically. “It’s two am, who’s gonna be listening to your stupid commercial for toothpaste now, are you kidding me?”

“Statistically speaking, this is the prime time for long-distance driving near Ninjago City,” Pixal supplies, her voice a hint scratchy where it comes through the his car’s radio speakers. “Or, if you factor in the construction in the east district, there could still be traffic from late-night bars.”

Lloyd groans, thunking his head against the steering wheel as another ad screeches through the small space. “Wonderful.”

“Your vocal tones suggest you find it otherwise.”

“Dont trust ‘em, my vocal tones are traitors.” As if to solidify his point, Lloyd’s voice cracks in the middle of his sentence, shooting up an octave higher. Lloyd goes bright red, and thunks his head against the steering wheel again.

Taking pity on him, Pixal aims for reassurance. “It is normal for your voice to break, Lloyd. It shouldn’t last too long.” She pauses, momentarily scanning through another article. “On second thought, this one suggests it could also take two to three years for your voice to stabilize.”

Lloyd gives a strangled moan. “End me.”

“Unfortunately, that would defeat the purpose of why I’m here in the first place.”

Lloyd tilts his head, cracking an eye open as he glances at the camera feed he knows she’s watching him from. “Unfortunately, huh,” he muses. “So you’re saying if Zane hadn’t made you promise to look out for me, you would end me?”

“That — no, that is not — of course I wouldn’t end you,” Pixal backtracks. An odd feeling flickers through her, almost as if she’s lost her place, floundering.

Or embarrassed might be more accurate, she thinks wryly. She briefly considers projecting a a glaring face at Lloyd from the monitor. This is his fault. She rarely stuttered before Lloyd started teasing her at all hours of the morning.

“I mean, you wouldn’t be the first,” Lloyd continues, conversationally. “And if we’re being honest, I’d definitely rather you be the one to off me, instead of like, random bad guy number eighty-five—”

“I know you think you are funny,” Pixal cuts over him. “But casually planning for your death is something Kai listed I was not to let you do. Also, it is not nearly as funny as you think it is.”

“Ouch,” Lloyd mutters, though he looks chastised. “Never mind, you just took me out in one sentence.”

Chastised might be the wrong term.

Pixal studies him through the monitor, then sighs. “I am, however, honored you think highly enough of me to offer the right to murder you,” she gives in.

She’s rewarded as Lloyd breaks into a bright grin.

He still looks painfully young these days, but it’s less obvious. His voice is pitching lower and he wears his hair different, and he’s gained a whip-like tendency to quip at people, as Pixal’s experienced firsthand. Kai calls it sass in grumbling but fond tones, and Nya calls it snark somewhere between the fourth book series she’s sent for Pixal to try.

The ninja have been kind like that, sharing the interests they have in an attempt to make her feel…well, more human, she supposes. Less confined to a voice in a computer. Of course, Pixal isn’t confined to a voice in a computer anymore, but they don’t know that yet. She’ll tell them someday soon, she promises herself. Any day now.

In the meantime, it’s easy enough to keep up with Lloyd by lurking in his car radio, as he spends half his time in there anyways.

************

“You’d think we’d have found their hideout by now,” Lloyd notes, as they wait in a darkened alleyway again. It gives them an excellent view of the major highways, so if the rumored biker gang does show up, they won’t miss it.

If they show up being the key point.

“Whoever their leader is, they certainly know how to keep a low profile,” Pixal answers, closing out another dead end police report in frustration.

“It’s weird,” Lloyd says, propping the notebook he’s sketching in on his knee as he squints at the paper. “Normally the boss types aren’t this quiet. They like to show off, y’know? Make a big scene, dramatic speeches and all.”

“Are you referring to the villains, or yourselves?”

“Touché,” Lloyd snorts. “But still, you gotta admit it’s weird they haven’t even made any demands. What’s their end game here, elaborate advertising for motorcycle design?”

“I would hope not,” Pixal says. “Their color coordination is lacking.”

Lloyd fights back a smile, his pencil scratching as he shifts his notebook again. “I don’t know, I kinda like the punk look.”

“I noticed that, when you tried to redecorate the car.”

“Hey, skulls are cool.”

“They are also conspicuous, especially when they come in acid green colors.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Lloyd sighs, making a face as he scrubs the eraser across the paper. Pixal tries to tilt the camera further, to see what he’s drawing tonight, but the angle he’s holding it at remains just out of sight.

She could probably guess what he’s drawing, if she tried. The notebook is one they’ve been steadily working their way through on these late-night patrols, the pages filled with little hangman games and Lloyd’s sketches of animals and his teammates. He’s drawn her a few times from memory, and she’s been tempted to ask him to draw her in the new Samurai X armor more than once.

Soon, she tells herself.

“What are you drawing?” she finally asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

Lloyd’s cheeks tinge pink, and he quickly plasters the notebook to his chest, hiding it entirely from view. “Nothing.”

Pixal waits, letting the silence fill with her judgement. “Lloyd, I have seen your drawings before.”

He doesn’t reply, and Pixal tries again. “It gets boring, being stuck with the car monitors for eyes.”

“I know you can hack other cameras,” Lloyd mutters, but he sighs, relenting as he turns the notebook over. Pixal’s eyes rake over the detailed sketch — it’s a comical little thing of her and Lloyd, jammed together on a tiny lifeboat in the middle of a darkening ocean. She can spot the smudges where he’s redrawn her head several times, and the numerous attempts he’s made at his own hair. Pixal studies Lloyd’s portrayal of himself, which is noticeably lacking in facial features. While Lloyd draws the others plenty, it’s a rare occasion that he draws himself, and she can’t help but be curious.

“I thought you were drawing the others again,” she admits.

“They’re on the ship,” Lloyd says, absently. “I’ll draw them when they remember to pull us back in.”

There’s nothing bitter in his tone to suggest it has any bearing on their actual lives, but the lost expressions Lloyd ends up giving their tiny caricatures feel familiar nonetheless.

“Zane has assured me they will be back as soon as they can,” Pixal speaks ups quietly.

Lloyd finally looks up fully, and flashes the monitor a smile. “I know,” he says. “So we better have this thing busted by the time they do, or they’ll never let us run a city on our own again.”

“If only we were truly running the city,” Pixal grumbles. “I could do a better job in two days than the current leaders could do in a year.”

“I’d vote for you,” Lloyd says, sincerely.

It’s a sweet gesture, but Pixal is unable to resist. “You don’t know how to vote.”

“Yes I do, it’s not hard!”

“Really? Then why are you not currently registered in the Ninjago voting system?”

Lloyd makes a strangled noise. “That’s a thing?”

She’s unable to keep the smugness from her voice. “I make my point.” Lloyd scowls, and scribbles a mustache on his drawing of her in revenge.

Pixal thinks it looks nice nonetheless.

************

She can’t really hold it against Lloyd for talking as much as he does, considering she does the same. It gets dull, sitting on patrol for hours on end, and there are only so many hours of light reading they can do before the silence begins to drive them both insane.

Pixal finds herself talking about more useless things with Lloyd than she has in her existence, pointless conversations in circles with each other. She also finds she doesn’t entirely mind. She’s become quite good at quipping back and forth with him, at least. It’s different than the kind of talk she has with Zane, lacking in the depth of feeling with the love they share. Her exchanges with Lloyd are lighter, though that’s not to say they’re less sincere.

For example, Zane hasn’t tried to teach her how to redesign a gi in poor lighting in the early hours of the morning because he’s bored out of his mind, that’s for sure.

“I’m teaching you how to sew,” Lloyd corrects, wincing as he accidentally stabs himself with the needle. “And I’m not redesigning the whole thing, I’m just adding some designs to spice it up.”

“I did not know you were allowed to wear colors other than green,” Pixal comments.

Lloyd pauses, squinting at the monitor. “You’re teasing me,” he finally says. “You’re making fun of how much green this gi has in it.”

“I would never,” Pixal replies, her tone flat and even. “The intricacies of your human humor evade me—”

“Human humor, nice—”

“—unlike the unusually bright shade of green you’ve chosen will fail to evade any eyes of your enemies.”

“I knew you were making fun of me!” Lloyd accuses, then flinches as he stabs his finger again trying to point at her. “And bright colors are our thing. Being subtle is, uh…not. Usually.”

Pixal is losing the battle to laugh at his expression by the minute. “I am shocked.”

Lloyd glares at the monitor, shifting his sewing to rest on his knees as he slouches in the car seat. “How’d you even get so good at sarcasm, anyways,” he mutters. “Zane still doesn’t get it half the time.”

“Perhaps it is part of my glowing personality,” Pixal says. Lloyd gives a huff of laughter, relenting.

“Fair enough,” he says, shifting in his seat again. “Fine, you win. The green is probably too bright, but that’s not the point. I’m gonna show you how to do a backstitch."

Pixal falls quiet, letting Lloyd gesture with the needle as he explains. There are a hundred, a thousand tutorials she could pull up online, digitized knowledge instantly learned on all the countless types of stitches she could use, sorted and categorized in neat columns of use and effectiveness. All of them more detailed, more easily understood than Lloyd’s absent rambling and unsteady hands as he struggles with the end of a knot.

Not one of them will care whether or not Pixal learns the odd way Zane likes to loop his stitches, or will quietly add which stitches knit skin back together quickest.

So Pixal ignores her programming, and does her best to follow Lloyd’s rambling instructions, watching as his scarred fingers tug another thread of dull gold through the green mess of fabric, the city quiet around them.

“You never did tell me where you learned how to sew,” Pixal says, as Lloyd starts up a new thread of black on the other side of the gi. “Was that something the others taught you in training?”

“They’d have to know how to be able to teach it,” Lloyd snickers. “And, uh, no. I taught myself to back at Darkley’s.”

“Oh,” Pixal falters. She’s heard about Darkley’s, both from Zane and the legal reports she’s read online. Neither gave a positive impression of the place. Her mind is suddenly filled with images of a younger Lloyd trying to give himself stitches, and her heart twists.

Lloyd starts, seemingly having picked up on her train of thought. “I mean, I did it for fun, mostly. I like sewing,” he explains. “It’s useful. You can pull things back together, and fix ‘em.”

Pixal is quiet, but she hopes Lloyd takes her silence as agreement with his motive. She likes to think he knows her well enough for that, by now.

************

Pixal finds, somewhere during their fourth month alone, that she’s glad the team elected to stick her and Lloyd together. Not because she doesn’t want to be with Zane — there’s never a moment she doesn’t miss him, and with every day that passes her resolve to keep her secret from him grows weaker, as the longing for actual connection grows stronger.

But there are conversations she can have with Lloyd that she can never have with Zane, and the dangerous thing about spending time with Lloyd, Pixal finds, is that they’re more similar than she’s realized.

“Sometimes I think I’m jealous,” Lloyd whispers to her one night. It’s one of the bad ones, the ones where their enemies struck too sudden to stop, and the mission ends in the hospital. “I think I’m jealous of Zane, and I hate myself for it.”

Pixal is quiet, trying to pick apart the tone of his voice in the words he’s just spoken, and factors in the victims they’ve just left behind at the hospital. She finds herself no closer to an answer.

“Is it the metal skin part?” she finally asks, though she knows that’s wrong. “The, what was it, technical immortality?”

“No,” Lloyd shakes his head. “I’m not afraid of dying,” he says emphatically, his fingers fluttering at over the steering wheel, tapping incessantly with unspent energy. “I don’t want to, but that’s — it’s not what I’m scared of. I’m more scared of how I go out.”

He swallows, and his fingers move to dance over the woven bracelet on his wrist instead, twisting at the tiny beads and tracing senseless designs in constant, steady movement. It’s a motion he does often, and it had puzzled Pixal at first. She’d decided to write it off as an odd tick, a way to spend excess energy.

Now, she recognizes the desperate kind of reassurance that movement gives. She understands too well the need to remind yourself that you can move — that your body will obey you and you alone.

Pixal thinks back to the other factors in tonight’s accident, of the way the drugged man’s eyes had cleared when they’d finally turned him over to the police, the way he’d sworn he’d never do such a thing in his right mind. She thinks of the way the first victim had thrown themselves over their companion.

That victim hadn’t made it to the hospital.

“Ah,” Pixal says, quietly.

She’s silent again, and she thinks back to when she’d met him, the very first time. She recalls the way her programming had rebelled against her in favor of the Overlord, corrupting her body and forcing it against her, twisting everything she was and wanted to be into something different.

She thinks back again, to the searing-hot anger, the terror, the despair as she was torn apart, piece by piece like a machine, burning out at the whims of another. Her end purposeless, her demise belonging to someone else, just like every other part of her.

She thinks of the last glimpse she’d caught of Zane, bright and beautiful as a supernova. Burning with the terrible brilliance of his own, determined choice. Terrible, because the death of something always is. Beautiful, because it was his own. Zane died, not a machine, not a weapon, not a tool of anyone or anything, but as himself. Zane died to save the ones he loves. Pixal could’ve died for spare parts.

Never again, she promises herself. If she goes out, she goes out on her own terms. This time, they choose the end of their own destiny themselves.

In hindsight, it’s the kind of promise they’re both too young to make, but neither of them have ever seen themselves as such, and promises like that are easy.

“Love can be terrible, sometimes,” Lloyd murmurs. Pixal watches him scrub at the blood on his uniform, and thinks how ironically well-timed it is that he finished the stitching on his new gi this morning. “Sometimes I forget how ugly it can be.”

************

The end of their nighttime stakeouts begins with a break-in at Mr. Borg’s tower. Lloyd argues that she should get to call it her father’s tower, if she wants, but the ninja aren’t the only ones Pixal’s hiding herself from.

And then Lloyd gets very tense at the thought of fathers very fast, and they never finish the conversation.

They stay at the edge of the bridge long after the parachute, emblazoned with the unmistakable visage of Lloyd’s father, disappears from sight. Pixal wonders if it’s burned into Lloyd’s eyes, like the way she’s read black spots linger in humans’ vision after they’ve looked at something too bright. The way Lloyd stares at the river, his shoulders tense and his teeth worrying at his lip, she thinks she might be right.

They’re waiting on the report from the commissioner —they’re waiting for anything, anyone who can offer them any explanation of what’s going on. Pixal’s reminded of how much she loathes this kind of waiting.

“It could be—” Lloyd begins, then breaks off, his voice wavering. He swallows, and Pixal can see the way his fists clench tightly from the cameras they’ve put in his car. There’s a fierce part of her that longs to reveal herself, to meet his eyes herself and offer some semblance of comfort. But there’s a time and place for things, and Pixal isn’t ready.

“It could be anything,” Lloyd finally continues, his voice small. “It could — it doesn’t mean anything. It could mean nothing, right?”

Pixal is silent, her mind racing. She’s run the calculations over and over in her head already, scouring the internet for anything related to the bikers. She’s been foolish, she realizes — they both have. Letting the gang go unnamed for so long, thinking nothing of it. Now, with the name flashing vibrant across Pixal’s vision, a part of her wants to let them go nameless just a bit longer.

Before she can answer, Lloyds phone goes off with a sharp ping, just as Pixal’s sensors alert her to the message from the commissioner. Lloyd snatches for his phone like it’s on fire, and Pixal’s already scanning the message frantically, as if she can salvage this if she’s fast enough, save Lloyd from this one pain.

Lloyd’s gotten much better at reading quickly though, these days.

She can pinpoint the moment he reaches the last paragraph, because his breath hitches. There’s a long, pressing pause of silence, Lloyd’s hands trembling as they clutch weakly at his phone. Then it’s punctured by a reedy, wheezing gasp, and Pixal’s suddenly wishing she’d revealed herself after all.

Instead, all she has is her voice as Lloyd crumples, crouching over in visible distress. Pixal’s mind races, recalling everything Zane’s ever told her about his team, the way their panic manifests in different shades. Lloyd’s is quiet but desperate, rapid breathes that stutter as his eyes slide more and more into a frightening kind of blankness.

“Lloyd, please, listen to my voice,” she begs, trying to reach him in the only way she can. “Please, you have to breathe—”

“He’s gone,” Lloyd rasps, unhearing of her words. “He’s s’posed to be gone, it’s supposed to be over, I’m supposed to be done—”

Pixal fights back the sense of overwhelming helplessness. She knows loss. She knows how to finish his sentence. He’s supposed to be done grieving, done mourning, done clinging to false scraps of hope that his father isn’t lost forever only to be met with heartbreak.

And now, to be met with the possibility of something so much worse.

“We’ll stop them,” she tells him, unflinching. “We won’t let it happen.”

Lloyd’s eyes are a vivid green where they stare at her through the monitor, almost ghostly in the misting light reflecting from the river.

He’s silent, but Pixal is, too.

Pixal remembers the way her head had spun when she’d first picked up the traces of Zane in the system, how the world had rushed then steadied, flooding with color as she’d realized he might not be lost after all. She remembers the surging, overwhelming flood of joy, that someone she’d thought she lost might live after all. She remembers being so happy, at even the smallest chance to get him back, because the voice was Zane’s, without a doubt.

She watches the color seep from Lloyd’s expression as his shoulders shudder, the words from the commissioner’s message almost echoing through the air. Watches the terror as the both of them fill the silence.

Will we?  

The radio scratches, as if echoing Pixal’s anxiety. Love can be terrible, sometimes. She’s underestimated how it also be so cruel.

************

She’s also, apparently, underestimated how the universe on the whole could be so cruel.

She should’ve revealed herself to them from day one. That way, when Harumi’s corrupted programming suddenly ravages through her like an electric shock, she could be reassured they’d at least be familiar with the person they were fighting.

Instead, she doesn’t even get to scream. Pixal’s only able to force out a desperate, broken warning before she’s lost again, drowning in her own body as she’s forced under. Furious panic grips her as she screams without lungs, bashing herself against the overwhelming helplessness that’s taken over her.

Not again, not again, not again—

Her limbs creak and jolt against her will, lashing out at the people she cares most about, and Pixal can’t even rage back in her own voice. She’s sworn, she’s promised herself she’d never let anyone do this to her again — she’s sworn she’d die before she let someone reach into her head and snatch control away, and yet here she is, frozen as her body’s used to target her friends.

If she could cry, she might.

There’s not much more to say than that. She breaks free, her body her own once again, but by then it’s too late.

************

If Pixal had the same gift of foresight that Zane did, maybe she would have seen it coming. Maybe she’d have remembered how similar her and Lloyd are, and that this kind of pained desperation always yields impulsiveness and mistakes.

She doesn’t, though. She barely even manages to do what she’s trying to, which is convincing Lloyd to join the others while they celebrate their victory. Their off-key singing is something he normally wouldn’t hesitate to join in on, she thinks, and she hates Harumi a little more.

Maybe she’ll try his mother next. The expression on Lloyd’s face screams unapproachable, and remains fixedly sullen.

Almost to her surprise, he meets her eyes as she draws near— it’s odd, being able to meet his back — and his own eyes are dark, from despair over Harumi or despair over his father, Pixal isn’t sure. She’s thinking it might be both, when his eyebrows crease, and a flicker of concern cuts through them instead.

“You good?”

It takes her a moment to realize why he’s asking, but the answer is obvious. Her head tilts downward, and she watches as her fingers curl and uncurl. Her movements, her choices. She lets out an even breath.

“As I can be,” she replies. Lloyd nods, and his eyes are understanding. His lips twist in a scowl.

“She shouldn’t have done that to you. That was a low blow.”

Pixal’s mouth curves into a humorless smile. “That it was. She’s rather good at those, isn’t she.”

Lloyd’s eyes shadow again, and he looks away, crossing his arms. ���This isn’t supposed to be about me,” he mutters.

“Yes, it is,” Pixal counters. “It is why I came over here, in the first place. She hurt—”

“All of us, and who’s fault is that,” Lloyd snaps, his arms crossing tighter.

“I would hope you know it’s hers,” she says, holding firm.

Lloyd looks away again, biting his lip, and Pixal shifts anxiously, rolling her wrists. The sensation of control sliding away still haunts her, worse than it had the first time. She should be better than this, she tells herself hotly. She’s lived without a body long enough that losing it so briefly shouldn’t effect her this much.

Curse her programming, she thinks, tapping agitatedly at the banister. She knew she should have reinforce it sooner.

“Hey, um.” Lloyd is looking at her again, hesitant. He twists at his bracelet, and his eyes lose a fraction of that darkness. “Kai made this for me, after Morro,” he says. “I kept shredding the sleeves of my uniform, so he told me to mess with this instead, when I needed to remember that…that I was in control.”

He shrugs, hesitant. “We could make you one too, if you wanted. It helps, having something.”

Pixal lets out a steady breath, despite not actually needing to. The action is grounding, she’s found. “I would like that.”

Lloyd gives her a ghost of a smile in return. “Soon as this is over, then.”

There’s a heavy weight to his words, and Pixal’s eyes narrow.

“Lloyd,” she says. He looks at her, his eyes dark. “Don’t do anything foolish.”

He’s quiet, not meeting her eyes, and this is where Pixal should stop him. This is when she should see the end of the road they’ve been on since they started this, and force him to turn before it’s too late.

“I know what I’m doing.”

She doesn’t.

************

Lloyd is battered and bleeding by the time they drag him onto the ship, a gruesome portrait of cruelty. Pixal is frozen as she watches him writhe in Kai’s hold, his screams cracked and wet as he thrashes erratically like a broken thing.

Nya is already barking orders before they’ve even gotten Lloyd fully on the ship, and Zane is running scans with a horrified, wavering focus. Pixal follows Cole as he carries Lloyd to the medbay with a blank numbness, the rush of wind streaming past the Bounty sails thunderously loud in her ears.

This isn’t Lloyd, she thinks, staring at his crumpled form. Lloyd isn’t this battered, broken shell of a person. Lloyd isn’t hazy eyes that fail to recognize them and frantic murmuring through bloody lips. Lloyd is bright-eyed and gentle and would rather die before he screams the way he does when Cole moves him to the table.

Lloyd is her friend, and this is where that promise they made has led them. She knows why Lloyd set out for the prison, hot on the collapse of his own star. She also knows he wouldn’t have chosen to burn out like this.

Cole calls out for Zane, his voice ringing in panic as Lloyd screeches in pain again. Pixal thinks of quiet words in the safety of his car, and she feels sick. This is the ugliness of love, the terrible, hideous side of it.

And Lloyd would hate it, if he could see himself, if he were any semblance of lucid. He’d hate to know just how much better he was at breaking himself than Morro ever was.

Zane is gentle as he pushes past her, but Pixal can feel the tremble in his hands. He’s every bit as rattled as she is, if not more so — Zane’s heart is larger and softer than hers has ever been, and he cares about each and every one of them with a painful intensity. It’s a cruel thing, to have to pull those same people back together with your own hands.

Kai’s eyes are streaming as he clutches at Lloyd’s wrists, pinning him in place. Zane’s hands waver again over one of the jagged wounds near Lloyd’s ribcage, the green of his uniform already dyed dark in blood, soaking over the careful stitches Pixal watched him put in himself.

Pixal finally finds her footing, reminding herself of the solid wood beneath her feet. She recalls the steady, smooth stitch Lloyd’s scarred fingers traced out for her.

“Here.” She takes the needle from Zane’s hands, squeezing his briefly before letting go. “I can do it.”

She sets the needle against Lloyd’s skin and wonders what kind of stitch it’d take to pull your heart back together.  

************

Pixal cannot cry. It’s one of the features Mr. Borg spent hours debating, weighing the pros and cons of giving her the ability before he was truly sure how rust-proof she was. He’d never gotten the chance to, as the Overlord had interrupted him, then Pixal had lost any body to give the ability to cry to, which had eliminated the need entirely.

She cannot cry, but she can hurt, and the rain that streams through her hair, dripping down her forehead spotting raindrops on her cheeks, could be tears if she pretended.

She doesn’t, though, because tears are a waste of water and overall useless in the grand scheme of things. She doubts they’d have helped her fare any better in the battle with Colossi, either.

Tears won’t bring anyone back.

Lloyd cries anyways. She can’t see him, but she can hear it in his voice, the way it wavers and breaks over the radio, nasally tones pronounced.

He’s barely able to gasp a few coordinates to her before he cuts the radio off abruptly. Pixal’s spent enough time with him to envision his scarred fingers snapping it off with a particular desperation, green sparking from his hands in distress.

She reminds herself those sparks are gone, now, bled away into nothing like the vivid green of Lloyd’s eyes had. The thought makes her sadder than she’d expected. She had a joke, about his eyes, she had wanted to make. Now that she has a body, and her own set of glowing green eyes, she’d — there was something he would’ve laughed at, she thought —

It doesn’t matter, now. Neither of them are likely to laugh anytime soon.

The coordinates blink brightly in her vision, and she’s almost surprised she managed to key them in. She’s running on autopilot, she supposes. It could be ironic — she’s been so desperate for control, it’s been so important that she’s the one feeling. Now, she’d give anything not to feel at all.

She lets out a shaky breath, dispelling the mist in her vision left from the rain. She leans forward, just over the edge of the building she’s crouched on, and her loose hair falls forward, silvery and synthetic and horribly tangled. Irritated, she reaches for another hair tie, and her hands falter around her wrist.

Lloyd had promised her a bracelet there. But he’d promised Kai would make the bracelet, hadn’t he, and Kai couldn’t make the bracelet if he was dead, could he.

Pixal blinks, her breath hitching. She’s been so numb to the pain of Zane’s loss, it hasn’t yet occurred to her that she’s losing Kai, too. And Jay, and Cole, and—

She sucks in the same shuddery kind of breath she’s seen Lloyd do, and carefully fists her hand in the area of her uniform above her chest. Her fingers dig in tightly, clutching in a hopeless attempt to feel some sort of comfort she knows she’ll never find.

But perhaps, for these few seconds, she can pretend the action is holding her together.

************

“It was inevitable,” Pixal tells Lloyd blankly, as he rasps out his third apology in the dark cover of their small hideout. “That one of us would fall, eventually. It had nothing to do with you.”

Lloyd swallows thickly. “It could’ve — it should’ve been—”

He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t need to. Pixal’s hand shoots out, clamping tightly around his wrist, and there’s a beat of gratitude that she doesn’t need to rely on her voice alone anymore.

“Don’t.” Her voice is strung tighter than the tension in their shoulders. “You cannot change anything. You can’t, Lloyd, and you should not wish to — to change it that way.”

Lloyd jerks his hand free, wiping miserably at his eyes. He sets it back down within her reach, though, and if Pixal were any different, she’d take it.

But Pixal isn’t that different from Lloyd at all in the end, and neither of them reach for the other’s hand, no matter how desperately they crave the contact. Fear is more familiar, and it’s easier to give into it than it is the clawing need for comfort in your chest, after all.

“Still,” Lloyd finally whispers. “Still.”

Pixal swallows. She doesn’t disagree. If one of them had to fall, she knows she gladly would have taken it upon herself. She knows the others care for her, certainly, but she also knows her place in the grand scheme of things. They were six before she came along, and even now she’s kept far too many secrets to be fully counted among them.

She listens to Lloyd’s quiet, cracked voice, and she wonders if he’s thinking that they were five before he came along, younger than Pixal got to know him as.

Now they’re three, hollow and heartbroken. Though counting herself as one whole feels like cheating, right now.

Pixal squeezes her eyes shut, and wonders what it’s like to cry. Perhaps it helps, though Lloyd doesn’t look any less miserable.

************

“I was thinking,” Lloyd tells her, during one of the precious few quiet moments they have while trying to overthrow Garmadon and Harumi. Pixal’s turning the tiny tea flower he’d given her over in her hands, a part of her mind already marking articles about flower-pressing, another part wondering if it’s already too late to save the blossom. “About that promise we made, before all this.”

Pixal finally tucks the flower into the pocket of her uniform, pressed close to her chest. If anything, it can be a reminder of the lives that are safe — the life that’s coming back to her, if she has to drag him back from another realm herself. “And?”

Lloyd’s hands twist together. “Maybe we should focus more on staying alive.”

Pixal coughs out a laugh, breathless and startled. Lloyd wrinkles his nose at her, but his eyes are amused, even with their light lost. “I mean, the emphasis would be on keeping everyone else alive, but it’s kinda hard to do that if we’re dead, so…yeah. Priorities.”

“Staying alive should always be a priority,” Pixal corrects him, but she tugs the edge of his armor out of place with a smile.

“Why didn’t you teach me how to graffiti?” she nods at the designs on the green leather. “Or was this another Darkley’s tradition.”

“This is a refined art, called whatever I had on me that showed up on dark green,” Lloyd grumbles, fixing his armor. “I’ll teach it to you when we get out of this.”

“Another reason why staying alive would be a more productive focus,” Pixal points out. “I’ve heard teaching is easier when you’re alive.”

“And I’ve heard you’re a real riot,” Lloyd mutters. “It’s a promise, okay? I promise to teach you how to do cool armor design if you promise not to disappear into another realm on me.”

Pixal nods, adjusting her own armor tighter as screams ring out from a street nearby. “A promise, then.”

She keeps both the promise and the flower, the tiny blossom dried and faded by the time she’s escaped from the prison, heart racing with leftover adrenaline as Zane sweeps her into his arms. She clutches back every bit as tight, listening to his breathless laughter as cheers rise from the streets behind them, the smoke drifting across the early morning sky above them pale against the lightening blue. Pixal buries her face in his shoulder and breathes, tucking the moment away in her heart where it won’t fade. There’s a future stretching out before her, and she’s got the limbs to walk her path on her own, but all she wants right now is the steady ground beneath her feet and the bright laughter of what she’s managed to keep.  

Lloyd meets them shortly after, his own promise kept as he tears his gaze from his father, handing him off to the authorities before sprinting for the others. Pixal barely snags a moment alone with him, and even then no one’s particularly keen on letting him out of their sights.

He meets her eyes as they pick their way through the wrecked streets, the city more alive around them than it’s been in weeks. In the dark of the early morning, Pixal’s eyes glow a bright green, reflecting oddly in the windows they pass. It’s always been her preferred color, in contrast to Zane’s bright blue. Lloyd glances at her, his own eerily green eyes glowing back. He bites his lip, but it’s to hold back real laughter this time.

“My eyes were green first,” she tells him.

“Sue me,” he shoots back, before Kai’s throwing an arm over his shoulders again, tucking Lloyd neatly in between him and Nya. Pixal smothers a laugh at the look on his face, and tightens her own arm further where it’s linked firmly in Zane’s.  

It’s going to be an easy promise to keep, she thinks.  

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

Amour à la française...

For the sweet @strudelcreme​ 🍨🥧🎀

I hope you’ll enjoy the story

In Dordogne, the Basterds had settled in an abandoned house to await orders for their next mission.

But for now, they were all enjoying the beautiful spring days and relaxing. 

Sitting on a stump, Aldo watched his team relax: Donny, Utivich, Zimmermann and Omar played cards while Sakowitz read a book in his corner. Hirschberg napped under an apple tree, Kagan smoked his cigarette while drawing in his notebook, and Hicox read the newspaper. As for Hugo and Wicki, they were chatting in their native language.

But someone was missing. Fortunately, she arrived!

"Here I am!"

Aldo turned his head and smiled as he saw (Y/N) (L/N), the only woman in the group, arrive. This young 21-year-old woman was recruited for her spying and code-breaking skills. 

If to the Allied secret service she was Agent (L/N), to her fellow soldiers she was (Y/N), their "little fairy."

They all fell in love with her pretty face and her adorable smile. And of course, all the Basterds loved to play the role of her servant knight.

Even Hugo, the most taciturn of the group, would smile in her presence!

But the one who had the biggest crush on the young woman was none other than Lieutenant Raine. Ever since (Y/N) joined their group, the former bootlegger had fallen under the spell of the young spy.

His men had noticed this and loved to tease him about it, especially Donny.

And they knew that (Y/N) was not insensitive to Aldo's charm. According to Utivich, they would make a charming couple if the Lieutenant could find the courage to admit his feelings.

In the meantime, Lieutenant Raine was making a pretence of courting the young woman, and that was fine.

Aldo smiled as the young woman greeted the other Basterds, even surprising Hicox with a kiss on the cheek.

She walked over to Raine and said:

"Here I am again, Lieutenant!"

"Please, (Y/N): I already told ya that ya could call me Aldo. When ya say Lieutenant, I feel like an old jackass!"

"But because ya're old!" shouted Donny, causing his comrades to howl with laughter.

"Shut up, Donowitz!" snapped Raine.

Fortunately for Donny, (Y/N) came to his defence.

"Don't take it the wrong way, Aldo: he was only joking!"

Aldo would have railed against his sergeant, but the pleading look in her eyes made him give in.

He grumbled:

"Well, that'll do for this time, Donowitz. But if ya do it again, ya'll be on night duty for the whole damn week! Do I make myself clear?"

The other Basterds just snickered: all it takes is for (Y/N) to make eyes at the obstinate Aldo Raine to give in.

A little later, the Basterds were eating their provisions around a campfire, chatting happily. While eating a piece of bread, Aldo did not take his eyes off (Y/N). He smiled fondly at the young woman joking with Omar and Hirschberg.

He would never admit it to his men, but he was in love with (Y/N) (L/N). Only, did she feel the same way about him, or did she only appreciate him as a friend? 

There was only one way to find out...

The next day.

"Are you sure this is necessary, Lieutenant? I mean, this meeting with French Resistance is a bit suspicious, no?"

"Since I'm telling you, Wicki. Anyway, the Krauts never come around here. Besides, who would suspect a pair in love to be members of the Resistance?"

"Why don't you just say that this mission story is just an excuse to have a date with Miss (Y/N)?" asked Hicox mockingly.

"Shut up, you rosbeef!" snarled Raine.

"He's not entirely wrong, Lieutenant. You'll have to admit that this story is very timely!"

"Stay out of it, Kagan!"

The voice of (Y/N) interrupted this bickering:

"I'm ready!"

As she walked out of the house, all eyes turned to the young woman. She was dressed in a flowery dress and wearing a white hat.

"Damn, girl! You look like an angel!" exclaimed Zimmermann.

"He's right: you are beautiful!" grinned Sakowitz.

"A real beauty queen!" smiled Hugo.

"My dear, you look stunning!" added Archie.

The young woman blushed with pleasure at so many compliments and thanked her companions before turning to Aldo:

"And you, Lieutenant: what do you think?"

"Waddaya want me to say? It's all been said before, doll!"

(Y/N) burst out laughing.

"Are you always this charming with the women you meet?"

The Lieutenant replied with a smirk:

"Nah, only for ya, (Y/N)!"

"If you say so... Well, I think it's time to go. Shall we go?"

"Sure! Well, guys, I'm counting on ya to watch the house! Got it?"

"YES, SIR!" replied the Basterds.

Satisfied, Aldo left for the city with (Y/N) on his arm.

Once their leader had left, Donny asked:

"Well, guys: I don't know about ya, but to me, this dating thing sounds like an excuse to have a quiet date with (Y/N)!"

"I would have been surprised if it wasn't. If you want my opinion, he is going to use this opportunity to confess everything to her!" remarked Wicki.

"What if we were to spy on them? That would be fun!" suggested Hirschberg.

"Why not? It will be a good occupation!" smiled Hicox.

"Let's go, then!" exclaimed Utivich.

They all rushed to the small town where the meeting with the French resistance fighters was supposed to take place. They managed to see Aldo and (Y/N) sitting on the terrace of a small café. 

They hid near a bush, right next to Aldo and (Y/N)'s table.

"Well, what would ya like to drink, princess?"

"Well, I'll have a grenadine. I know, it's not very original..."

"Don't worry about it. Don't feel obliged to order something ya don't like when you're with me! As for me, a good scotch won't hurt me!"

"I didn't know he was so gallant!" murmured Utivich.

"I think we're in for a surprise," replied Donny.

Aldo and (Y/N) sipped their drinks in silence before the young woman asked:

"Do you know how long it will be before we meet the French resistance fighters?"

At these words, the lieutenant became a little embarrassed:

"How can I explain this to ya? Well, let's say they won't come now... Nah, I'll be honest: that rendezvous thing was a fake!"

"What?" exclaimed the young spy, surprised.

"It's true: there is no meeting scheduled with the French Resistance."

"But then, why are we here?"

Aldo massaged the back of his neck, blushing a little.

"Well, how shall I put it? I wanted to find an excuse to spend time with ya... away from the others!"

"I knew it!" chuckled Hicox.

For her part, (Y/N) was surprised.

"You want to spend time with me? But why?"

"Because I want to get to know ya better, (Y/N). Ya've been on my team for a year and a half, and everyone else loves ya. But I don't know what ya like, if ya have a family, what your dreams are, and what ya want to do after the war is over!"

He sighed.

"Besides, I can see that you're more comfortable with the guys. When ya talk to me, I feel like you're distancing yourself! Do I scare ya?"

"No, not at all! It's just that you're my superior! So I have to show you some respect!" the young woman answered shyly.

"That's what bothers me, (Y/N): I don't want to be just yer superior anymore. I would like to be someone ya can trust..."

"But I've always trusted you!"

"I know, I know. But I wanted to say that I would like ya to see me as a friend..."

"Yeah! I say he'd like to be more than a friend!" sneered Hirschberg.

"Hush! I'd like to hear the rest of the conversation!" Sakowitz lectured him as he listened carefully.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) and Aldo continued to talk.

"I must admit I'm a bit surprised, Lieutenant..."

"Please, (Y/N): don't call me that anymore. I wish ya would call me by my first name!"

"All right, Aldo. I was saying that I don't understand why we came here: if not to meet resistance fighters, then what are we doing here?"

A little embarrassed, Aldo replied:

"If I chose to come here with ya, it's because I'd like to be able to tell ya some things without the others being there!"

"If only he knew..." quipped Hugo.

"And what do you want to tell me?" asked (Y/N), a little stressed.

"Where to start? First of all, we're all happy to have ya on the team. Your presence alone is enough to cheer us up, and that's great. Secondly... Well, it's not easy to say, but when you're around me, I feel different."

"What do you mean?"

"Whenever ya talk to me or stand next to me, I feel like I have butterflies in my gut. It's a strange feeling, but not unpleasant. And I haven't felt that way in years!"

The young woman smiles shyly.

"You sound like you're in love with me!"

Seeing Aldo's shifty look, (Y/N) understood.

"Wait... Is that so?"

He nodded.

"It's true, I admit it!"

At these words, the other Basterds were overexcited!

"Oh my gosh! He did it!"

"We noticed it, Donny!"

As for (Y/N), she was speechless: so Aldo Raine was in love with her! On the one hand, she was happy to know that the man she secretly loved felt the same way about her. But on the other hand, she was afraid of how the others would react: would they be happy to know that the only woman in the group was the girlfriend of their leader?

These two contradictory feelings were tugging at her mind, and she didn't know what to do.

On the other hand, Aldo was nervous: this silence from (Y/N) stressed him. Did she love him too? Or was he mistaken?

Suddenly he heard the young woman whisper:

"Can we talk about this somewhere else? I wouldn't want the other customers to hear us."

"Okay, let's go!"

The couple left the restaurant and headed for a small park, followed by the other Basterds.

After a few minutes of walking, Aldo and (Y/N) sat down in a shady corner, out of sight. The other Basterds hid behind some bushes and listened to the rest of the conversation.

There was a silence before (Y/N) asked:

"How long have you loved me?"

"Probably since day one. In any case, it does not just talk: I love ya, (Y/N). And I want to be able to survive this fucking war to stay with ya until I've got more air in my lungs! I want ya to be a part of my life if ya'll let me!"

"Well, what a romantic!" laughed Hugo, making his comrades laugh.

For his part, Aldo asked:

"And what do you think of me? Ya can be honest: if ya don't like me, I won't blame ya!"

Biting her lip, (Y/N) muttered:

"To tell the truth... I love you too, Aldo. But I don't know if it's a good thing to be together!"

"Why is that?"

"Well, for one thing, neither you nor I know if we'll make it out of this war alive. Secondly, I'm afraid that if we ever got together, the others might take it badly!"

"The others? Wait, is she talking about us?" asked Omar, surprised.

"Looks like it..." muttered Wicki.

Aldo was intrigued by this answer.

"And why would my guys take it the wrong way?"

"I wasn't thinking of your men in particular, but the other soldiers. But if you want to know, well, they might think I'm getting special treatment. And if anything happened to you, I know they would blame me for it. I couldn't live with the pain of losing you and the weight of my shame!"

Seeing the distress in the young spy's eyes, the American understood how afraid she was of losing everything.

Gently, Aldo put his hand on (Y/N)'s and said:

"Ya know, doll, I'm telling ya all this because I know we'll get out of this war alive. So don't worry about what other people think!"

He smiled:

"Besides, I'm glad to see that ya like me!"

"You are incorrigible!"

"That's what makes me so charming!"

Behind their hiding place, the Basterds were waiting for the outcome!

"Normally, this is when they kiss!" remarked Andy.

"The suspense is at its height, gentlemen!" whispered Hicox.

Aldo and (Y/N) seemed ready to take the plunge.

"I'mma going to speak seriously, (Y/N): it makes me happy to know that ya love me."

"And I'm happy to see that you like me!"

"I don't just only like ya if that makes ya feel better. I truly love ya!"

Leaning towards her, he asked:

"Can I kiss ya?"

"I've been waiting for this..." smiled (Y/N).

Pleased with the answer, Aldo closed the distance between their lips and kissed the young woman fiercely, who responded to the kiss with the same passion.

This moment was extraordinary... until they heard an enthusiastic voice!

"YEEHA! FINALLY!"

"Hirschberg, shut up!" roared the other Basterds.

Recognising the voice of his subordinate, Aldo leapt to his feet and stomped towards the bushes behind him. 

He pushed aside the branches and found that his men had followed him. 

Annoyed, he ordered sharply:

"Get outta there, right now!"

And under (Y/N)'s surprised eyes, all the Basterds came out of their hiding place.

"Are you all here?"

"Yeah, we didn't want to miss this!" joked Omar before freaking out at his lieutenant's glare.

The latter asked, trying not to get upset:

"May I ask what you're doing here instead of watching the camp?"

They all looked at each other embarrassed before Donny spoke up:

"Well, we all suspected that the whole dating thing was an excuse to have a date with (Y/N). Of course, we wanted to see how you would do..."

He started to giggle.

"And to say the least, you're very cheesy when you want to be!"

"Me, cheesy? Cut the crap, Donowitz!"

"Ooh, come on! Admit it, you're a real softie!" laughed Michael.

The laughter of her companions made (Y/N) want to laugh too, but she tried to calm it down:

"It's not very nice to make fun of your lieutenant, gentlemen. Especially at a time like this!"

"We'll say it's fair game, considering the times he loves to mess with us!" smiled Wicki mischievously.

"Anyway, if it makes you feel better (Y/N): we all accept your love affair with Lieutenant Raine. And if anyone finds anything wrong with it, let him come and tell us to our faces!" declared Utivich.

"Private Utivich is right, my dear: we will defend your honour, don't worry!" added Hicox.

"And if you can calm the lieutenant down, we won't say no!" laughed Hugo.

"Don't start now, Stiglitz! Well, now that ya all know about me and (Y/N), I can say my date is over! C’mon, everybody back to camp, and hurry!"

"Aye, aye, Sergeant Love!" sneered the Basterds.

"Silence!" grumbled Aldo.

On the way back, as the Basterds chatted happily, Aldo and (Y/N) walked behind them, their hands tightly bound.

Suddenly the American leaned over to the young woman and whispered:

"I almost forgot something!"

"What was it?"

"Well, since we're in France, I had to say it the right way: Je t’aime à la folie, (Y/N) (L/N)!"

Amused by this answer, (Y/N) turned to her lover and replied:

"In that case: Je t’aime aussi, Aldo Raine!"

As they headed into uncertain days, Aldo and (Y/N) were sure that, no matter what happened, they would be able to overcome anything as long as they were together...

Thanks for the reading!

I do hope you really enjoyed the story!

Can’t wait to read your reviews! 

Take care! 😘😍🥰🌹

[alistair-blackwood]

MoMM Chapter 5 - The Storm, Part 2 (Preview #1)

(Note: this is not the finalized draft; anything featured is subject to edits or deletion!)

The Storm, Part 1

All he could do now was outlast this storm. Stay sane. No use agonising over the things he couldn’t change. Mum was …

He let out a long exhale, pushing through the weight that lingered on his chest.

Mum was going to have to carry on without him. She was a survivor, after all. He had faith. He just hoped things didn't change too much while he was gone– that the world will still be recognisable.

With Jon’s help, his eyes full of light and concern, and his small, scarred hand gently holding Martin's, he might stand a chance of making it.

The Storm, Part 2

Dear Mum

How have you been doing? I’ve been well. I’m sorry my letter’s a bit late this month, but things have been a little topsy-turvy. I wish I could tell you more about what was going on, but I hardly understand it all myself.

I’m out of a job. Things ended badly and I’m sure I won’t be welcome back at the Lord’s estate, but I’ll do my best to find something else as soon as I can. Something better. I’ll work twice as hard. I know it won’t make up for the missing payments, but I’ll try to make things right. 

I’m trying to keep a stiff upper lip in the meantime. I’ve met someone, and he’s been helping me through all this. We’ve started working on a garden together. I know you’ve always hated gardening, but maybe he and I can grow something remarkable that’ll impress you. Jon doesn’t have much hope, but I’m sure there’s a respectable gardener somewhere between the two of us.

I think you’d like him. He’s kind.

Love,

Martin

 ~

“Jon, these all look the same to me.”

“This is a tulip seed. I’m certain of it.”

“Are you? Because on the pamphlet, it looks like an azalea.”

“Those don’t look anything alike.”

“Just drop it in the pit, will you? We’ll figure out what it is at some point.”

With a sigh, Jon did as told, settling back on his haunches as Martin filled the pit back in with soil. “Is it just me, or does this not strike you as proper gardening?”

“Would either of us know what proper gardening looked like?”

“… That’s a fair enough point, I suppose.”

Taking a deep breath, Jon closed his eyes, shaking out his shoulders. Wiggled, honestly. Did he even know he did that? The wiggling. Like a cat preparing to pounce. Martin had to bite his inner cheek to keep from grinning at the image.

Jon had hung his cloak at the greenhouse entrance and once again Martin was able to appreciate how small the man was, for all the space he took in Martin’s head. Dirt crusted his clipped fingernails and he’d smeared a streak of soil on his cheek. A child begging to be scolded for ruining their Sunday best. Martin didn’t think the man would be so comfortable being filthy.

Comfortable. Perhaps that’s what captivated Martin.

After everything the man had been through – years of loneliness and years more of a nightmare come to life – he still managed to be so … normal? Martin didn’t like how that word tasted, but it was the only one he could think of. Martin had only suffered a few weeks and that had been enough to make him go a bit looney. But Jon …? 

“How did you do it?”

“Hmm? Do what?”

“Stay … I don’t know, yourself?” Martin rubbed the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the plots. Maybe this hadn’t been the best time to start this particular conversation, but the question had poured out of his mouth. “I mean, I’ve only been here a month and I've already almost gone off my rocker at least once. I guess what I’m trying to say is you’re … remarkably well-adjusted?” 

An eyebrow popped up. “Who says I’m well-adjusted?”

“I– Well–”

“Should I have a wild beard, then? A mad glint to my eyes?”

“Well, I’m not sure about a beard, but you haven’t seen yourself chopping radishes.”

“What? It’s satisfying. You understand, don’t you?” Jon scraped the shadowy stubble on his jaw. “Could never grow a beard, anyway. Too patchy.”

“I’m sure it would look brilliant.”

Jon hummed as he absently dug at a pit with the trowel. Martin fidgeted with the azalea seeds in his palm (maybe tulips?), before he bit his lip. Bit of a rude question, after all. Hey, why aren’t you insane actually? Probably not the best time to ask.

But as Martin opened his mouth, Jon sighed.

“To be honest, I barely noticed the difference at first. I’d already spent so much of my time alone in the archives, so by the time I was truly alone, I … supposed I’d already gotten used to it?”

Martin struggled to temper his expression, heart shattering in his chest. He hadn’t expected a nice answer, but something about Jon’s casual shrug made it all a little bit worse. Could Martin, for all his own loneliness, even imagine what that’s like? Being so alone that by the time his house has been emptied, he didn’t even notice the difference? 

A chill crawled up Martin’s arms, far too familiar and unwelcome in the warmth of the greenhouse. There had to be something he could do or say that could be helpful here. Something that could ease Jon’s burden, if only slightly.

“Well, it must have been nice not having to wear trousers all the time, at least.”

“… What?”

Martin blinked, processing his own words, and his face blazed with heat. “W-well, you live alone, you don’t have to wear trousers. That’s one of the perks, right?” 

“No! What would even– What purpose would that serve?”

“I mean, you’re basically doing the same thing already. Just, you know, in the opposite direction.”

“I have no idea what you could be referring to.”

“Right, sure. And you just like swanning about in that great big billowing cloak of yours, because …? It’s silk, it’s not as if it’s keeping you warm.”

The undertones of Jon’s face glowed. His eyes dropped to his fingers, picking the dirt out of his cuticles.

“I … That’s different. I just enjoy the way it feels.”

“Not that different. It’s about the indulgence.”

Jon rolled his eyes. With a lurch, he plucked up one of the seeds and stuffed it into the soil, and Martin leaned back as he tamped the pit with manic zeal before he settled back down with a huff, crossing his arms.

Martin gave the satchel a little shake. “Was that a tulip or an azalea?” 

Jon stiffened, eyes widening. “I-I, uh … I’m not sure? I wasn’t really looking.”

Their eyes met and the air hung heavy between them. Jon’s lips quivered. Martin’s cheeks grew sore holding his expression in place.

Then, a burst of giggles erupted between them. Jon keeled over, clutching his sides, and Martin quickly ran out of air, chest aching as he gasped for breath.

Jon recovered first, wiping his eye and smearing more dirt onto his cheek. “I … I suppose I can concede that the logic is similar.” He looked unhinged, deranged, and his eyes sparkled brightly as he sheepishly dug out the seed that might have been a tulip.

At least Martin could make him laugh. Not the most helpful thing, but it was something.

That chill didn’t go away, though, not entirely. It lingered on the tips of Martin’s fingers and the chambers of his heart, even as they both stood, wiping their hands of dirt. Did Jon notice it, too? His expression remained content and tranquil as he prepared the watering can, a gentle, absent-minded smile tweaking his mouth.

Martin tried to shake off the feeling.

It was probably just his imagination.

Check out the Monster of Magnus Manor here!

[fific7]

There May Be Trouble Ahead - Part 2

John Whittaker x Reader

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s all lemon zest 🍋 because the world deserves more of the over-eager puppy that is the handsome Johnny Whittaker. And puppies need discipline.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected sex between consenting adults*. Some drinking.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(Not my GIF, credit to owner)

The following weekend, John parked his car with a flourish, jumping out of it and bouncing up the front steps of her mansion flat in town, noticing that it had a nice view of a small park across the road. Ringing the doorbell, he fervently hoped that she hadn’t changed her mind since he’d telephoned her during the week to reconfirm the details for today. He was excited about this second date. He’d been pleased when she’d given him both her address and home number without hesitation on the night of their first date, and she hadn’t said anything adverse during the midweek call. That had to be promising.

Surely that would have been the perfect opportunity to belatedly decline his invitation?

When she opened her front door, he wished her an exuberant ’good afternoon’ while being much taken with the vision of loveliness which presented itself to him. She was resplendent in a pretty floral dress, matching high heels and a floppy sun hat in a contrasting colour, and he thought she looked absolutely adorable. And told her as much, which made her blush. He loved it when she blushed. He was, in the meantime, admiring her curves and he could see a little more of her shapely legs today, her dress being very slightly shorter than the skirt she wore previously.

He was still gazing at her when he felt a stirring in his loins. It really had been quite a while since a woman had elicited that response from his now usually dormant manhood. With all the recent emotional upheaval, his libido had been truly and utterly extinguished.

Oh! he thought, looking down quickly at the growing bulge in his trousers, I’m very pleased to be in this state but… umm. He quickly clasped his hands in front of his fly.

Looking back up at her, he could tell by her expression that she was feeling very anxious and indeed, instead of greeting him, she burst out, “Do you really think this is a good idea, John? We have only just made our acquaintance but you’re taking me to meet your family? They may hate me!”

He smiled at her, “Believe me, it’s entirely possible that it will be the other way round!” She smiled back at him, “I’m sure it won’t be.” Grinning, he said, “You haven’t met them yet!” “John! You’re not exactly reassuring me!” He reached out a hand, “Come along, it will be fine, honestly. Don’t worry about anything!” She turned slightly and picked up a clutch bag from the hall table. “I’ll try not to,” she replied.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your first thought on opening the door was, ‘how handsome he looks!” He was wearing cream trousers, a stone-coloured shirt and a cream waistcoat, very dashing. You noticed his dark eyes staring at you, and hoped that what you’d chosen to wear was suitable for a tea party with his family.

However he’d immediately complimented you so hopefully that meant you’d passed muster. Then you couldn’t help mentioning how anxious you were feeling and while he didn’t exactly make you feel less so, by the time you took his hand and let him lead you down to his car, your nerves were beginning to subside a tiny little bit.

His car was a really rather smart sports number and he opened the passenger door for you, not letting go of your hand until you’d seated yourself in it, gracefully you hoped. Then he leapt into the driver’s seat and started up the engine, a loud purring sound in the quiet street. You saw a curtain twitch at the next-door window and smirked. Good! This’ll give that awful Euphemia girl something to think about. She was always making snide passive-aggressive remarks about the lack of gentlemen in your life - as if she had any herself! It twitched again and you cheerily waved at her, the lace curtain instantly dropping back into place.

“Neighbour of yours? A friend?” John nodded towards the window. You gave a rather unladylike snort, “God no. She’s ghastly. I avoid her like the plague.” He laughed, and as the car pulled away from the kerb you glanced at him, “So. Who is going to be at tea today?” He was concentrating on navigating the car through the streets but replied, “Oh, let’s see… just Mother and my two sisters Hilda and Marion. Although I do think mater might’ve said something about Sarah possibly dropping in too.” “Sarah?” you questioned. He shifted in his seat, “My ex. We were almost engaged at one point, but…” he shrugged, “…Larita happened.”

You got a sinking feeling in your stomach. His ex? Why on earth was she joining you? And who was Larita? You asked him as much and he cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable, “Larita is my ex-wife. And Sarah - although we’re no longer involved - has a kind of big sis thing going on with me, I think. To be honest, our whole relationship was always very much like brother and sister. No hanky-panky, you know?” He gave a nervous laugh. “She’ll be over to have a gander at you, no doubt - make sure you’re not going to steal the family silver.” You couldn’t stop yourself laughing out loud, “Have no fear! I’ve concealed my burglar’s Swag Bag very well.” He joined in your laughter, “Hate to disappoint you, darling, but we’ve got no silver left to steal!”

Darling? you thought… he’s forward! “That’s not a problem,” you replied, “filthy lucre’s not really my scene.” His head turned towards you, “What’s your scene? Tell me,” he said. “Oh… you know. Someone with a brain so I can have a decent conversation. Someone who can make me laugh. And treat me like a princess.” He pulled up momentarily at a crossroads and his eyes met yours, “I can do all of those,” he said earnestly, “I promise you that I can.” You laughed, suddenly slightly shy due to how sincere he sounded. “Can you? That’s encouraging, John.”

“Yes, I can. I’ll prove it to you, if you’ll let me.”

You smiled at him. “Well, it’s very early days but we’ll see, shall we?”

He nodded, eyes gazing into yours, “We shall indeed.”

A car horn tooted behind you. He changed gears and turned the car towards the fields and meadows.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

(Flintham Hall, the Whittakers’ residence)

The car tyres crunched over the gravel of the wide driveway and he drew the car to a halt in front of “The Family Pile”, as he called it. When he’d turned the car off the road and driven between two huge gate posts and then past a gatehouse, you knew that his house was going to be rather large. And it was. It wasn’t quite Blenheim Palace, but it wasn’t too far off.

“John,” you said, slightly in awe, “…what a beautiful house.” He grinned, “The original part of the house was built in 1798, not by us though. It was extended first of all in… um, 1820 I think. The Whittakers eventually inherited it through marriage in the mid-1840’s, and they extended and remodelled again a few years later. Been in the family ever since. Bit shabby round the edges nowadays,” he gave a self-deprecating laugh, “…somewhat like myself.”

He jumped out of the car in typically energetic fashion, coming round and opening your car door, “I’ll give you the full guided tour after we’ve had tea.” He took your hand again and led you towards the main entrance. “They’ll all be on the terrace, no doubt. Or… maybe in the conservatory. Come and meet them.”

You smiled, “You’re not, you know.” He stopped in his tracks, looking back at you, a confused look on his face, “I’m not what?” “Shabby,” you answered, and began walking again.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

John’s heart gave a little leap. She sounds…. interested, he thought. Could she possibly like me? Oh, I do hope so.

He led her inside the house, spotting their butler gliding towards them and waving him off, “It’s fine, Furber, it’s just me and my guest,” and giving her a quick smile, guided her through the large hall and into the large, high-ceilinged conservatory. “Oh, no sign of them in here after all. The plants are probably too overgrown to take tea amongst. We’ve only got one doddery old gardener left now, and it takes him all his time to look after the grounds never mind in here. Poor old Bob.”

He tugged her hand and gently pulled her back out into the hall then cut through a grand sitting room, where French windows were already lying open. He propelled her swiftly towards them; he could tell by the tenseness of her hand in his that she was getting nervous again, and he really didn’t want her to take flight in the opposite direction. “Terrace it is then!” he sang.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your heart was in your mouth as John all but shoved you through the French windows and out onto the terrace.

A large round table was set out there, complete with crockery, cutlery, napkins, plates of sandwiches, two cake stands each filled with a selection of tea cakes, a large teapot, along with several tea cups and saucers. What a spread! you thought.

Four female heads turned towards you and John, but their eyes were drilling into you and you only.

Taking a deep breath, you dropped your hand out of John’s and stepped forward, a smile - but a reserved one - on your face.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

John took in the four staring women, and had a fleeting moment of deja vu. They didn’t look very welcoming, any of them. But he squared his shoulders and hurried to stand next to her, his hand on her arm.

He cleared his throat and firstly introduced her, before indicating each of the still-silent women and introducing them in turn to her. He gave her a tentative smile and a comforting squeeze of her arm. She turned back to the women, smiling and said, “Very pleased to meet you.”

There was a further moment of silence, and he saw their eyes travelling down to look at his hand resting on her arm. But he didn’t remove it.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You noticed them all staring at John’s hand, which had remained on your arm, then finally Veronica nodded at you and returned your greeting with the smallest of small smiles. This seemed to open the floodgates and the others echoed her, with accompanying smiles. Hilda jumped up (it seemed to be a family trait) and came over to you, claiming your arm from John and leading you over to an empty seat between her and Sarah, who looked up smiling as you approached. At the same time you didn’t miss the intensely scrutinising look she gave you. Well - this isn’t going to be uncomfortable at all is it?! you thought, smiling back through slightly gritted teeth.

A housemaid appeared from nowhere and began pouring tea for everyone. Marion, with her tightly permed hair and her mustard-coloured pleated skirt and mustard-coloured twinset and pearls, was busy passing the now-full cups round, spearing you with her sharp stare as she did so. Had these people never seen anyone from outside the estate or something? The way they were examining you! - as if you were a specimen on a laboratory slide or something. You decided to put on a brave front, smiling and thanking her as you took your cup from her. You would not be cowed by these women.

Sarah lifted her cup to her lips and sipped, before placing it carefully back in the saucer. You took a moment to study her. Well, you were just returning the favour, after all - she’d had the opportunity to scrutinise you for rather longer than that when you’d been paraded in front of them all. She was pretty, with soft brown eyes and wavy dark hair in a short bobbed style, however you felt that she was perhaps the kind of woman who just tended to fade into the background. Not that you were saying she was insipid, but… well, maybe you were.

But perhaps you’d better reserve judgement until you knew her better, you cautioned yourself. You yourself used to be a timid little mouse until you went out into the wide world. You either had to toughen up or else the world would eat you up, you’d learned that lesson pretty quickly. Perhaps Sarah had lived all her life in the rarified air of a country estate such as this. That would certainly explain why she had an air about her of one of those flower arrangements the Victorians liked to keep under glass domes in their parlours.

Hilda was a bubbly little thing, a few years younger than you. She was babbling happily away to you, asking where you got your dress, your hat, your shoes and who did your hair. Sensing that you had a new fan, you caught John’s eye over the tea cups and he smiled conspiratorially at you. Your lips lifted slightly in response. You could tell that he’d been trying to distract his mother’s attention from you, but that was only going to work for so long.

She turned towards you like a galleon in full sail and bared her teeth at you in a forceful smile. It reminded you of a visit you’d made to the Aquarium a few months ago. You were almost positive you’d seen the spitting image of Veronica there during your visit - flashing past you in one of the shark tanks with that same chilling grin in place, as you stood there gazing into that underwater world.

Under her regard, you very much felt like an item on that particular shark’s food chain. “My dear,” she intoned, “…my boy has told us literally nothing about you!” she glared at John, before switching her eyes back to you. “Pray do tell us something of your life to date, I’m sure it must be very interesting!”

You smiled at her, “Not really, Mrs Whittaker, but here goes! I got my degree - a First - in History of Art at Oxford, then I came down and now work at the Art Gallery in town. I’m a conservator. Well, I’m still a trainee but it’s not too bad. Eventually it will be fairly interesting once I’ve learned as much as I can about it from my mentor.” Veronica’s eyebrows rose, “Oh… an academic.” She smiled slightly more kindly at you then turned to John, “Well, that’s an improvement at least,” she said directly to him. His face pinked up and he cast an apologetic look at you.

However Veronica was not finished. She turned back to you and asked, “And your family, dear? What about them - what do they do?” You hid a smile. Pedigree was everything to the Veronicas of this world. “My father was in the army…” you noticed the frosty shutters coming down on her face again and wondered what that was all about, “…and then after the war, he started an antiques and artwork shipping company. It’s global now, doing rather well.” You saw interest spark in her eyes and her expression warmed again. “Oh, how interesting. And where do they live?” “In Sussex, on the Downs. We have a house there. And as Father’s offices are in London, a flat in Mayfair. And I have my flat here. Well… in town.”

Her expression was positively glowing by now. “How lovely!” she exclaimed, leaning forwards and motioning at one of the cake stands. “Do have a tea cake.”

You noticed John’s eyes rolling heavenwards.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

After half an hour of continued small talk, you were wondering why Veronica looked so pleased, Marion and Hilda looked anxious, and Sarah didn’t look particularly pleased at all. John suddenly stood up, smiling round at his relatives and their family friend. “I’m going to give this lovely lady the Grand Tour!” he announced, holding out his hand to you.

Taking it, you nodded to the other ladies and thanked Veronica for the delicious afternoon tea. Once again, she bestowed a smile on you and then John was tugging impatiently at your hand.

He towed you along behind him, whizzing you in and out of rooms and along corridors all the while delivering a staccato list of what their functions were. Eventually he pulled you upstairs and began the same whistlestop tour you’d had on the ground floor. He arrived at one particular door and stopped. He grinned at you, “This is my bedroom. D’you want to see it?” You nodded, grinning back at him. So he opened the door and you stepped inside, taking in the ornate damask curtains, the large carved bed and heavy dark-coloured oak furniture.

“It’s very…” you ground to a halt, not sure what to say. “Last century?” he laughed, “Don’t worry, I know it is. Most of the furniture in this house is ancient.” He shrugged, “Can’t afford to replace it.” You saw a momentary flash of anxiety across his face and moved to stand closer to him.

“John? Why did your mother suddenly warm up to me?”

He sank down on the edge of the bed, a defeated look about him. “I did mention this place was sinking like the Titanic, didn’t I?” You nodded, watching him closely. “My mother desperately wanted me to marry Sarah because the Hursts have actual money. Real, folding money. Not pie-in-the-sky money, tied up in land and bricks and mortar which swallow up any available funds just by existing. Then I met Larita. She was an American racing driver at the time but had no money whatsoever, she scraped through from race to race. Like a damn fool I married her in France, and brought her back here. Can you imagine how that went down?”

You thought back to Veronica’s original icy demeanour when you first arrived. “Um.. taking a wild guess here… not very well?” He nodded, sighing. Lying back against the pillows all of a sudden, he linked his fingers behind his head. “Like a hundred-pound bomb went off. American? No money? And as far as Mother and my siblings were concerned, no class. So of course in their book, that meant no chance!” He gave a harsh laugh. “What the hell was I thinking?”

“Well, I suppose you were in love?” He shook his head, dark eyes seeking out yours, “No. I was infatuated. But definitely not in love, although I thought I was to begin with. And the infatuation quickly wore off. She was bored here, but this is my home. I wasn’t going to leave it and go off gallivanting across the world with her! Spending all the money I don’t have.” He leant up on one elbow, propping his head up on one palm, “The weirdest thing was, I come swanning back here - supposed to be almost engaged to Sarah - with another woman on my arm as my wife, and Sarah was really calm and gracious about it all. She actually became quite friendly with Larita, that’s the weird bit I’m talking about!”

He gazed up at you, “She should’ve hated her, no?”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

His logic regarding that was spot on, you thought.

Of course Sarah should’ve hated Larita, that was just a normal human reaction. By rights - and without doubt if it had been you in Sarah’s position - a huge tantrum would definitely have been thrown. So huge and enduring, it would’ve registered on the Reichter Scale.

You suspected that the supposedly shy and retiring Sarah had known exactly what she’d been doing. John’s next comments merely reinforced your viewpoint, but you kept silent.

“I mean, I was moaning to Sarah one evening about how Larita’s behaviour was beginning to grate on me, and she actually told me to be quiet and go and look after my wife!”

That was the icing on the cake as far as you were concerned. Sarah was playing some kind of long game, you decided. One of the most ancient games around in fact, ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer’.

John had admitted to you that he and Sarah’s relationship had always been sibling-like, and she was probably only too well aware of that fact. When he came back from the Riviera with a wife, there wasn’t very much she could do about it at that point but had decided to bide her time. She thought exactly the same as John’s family thought about the marriage (poorly) - but she never admitted it.

In fact she played it exactly the opposite way and ‘befriended’ the wife, who was probably only too happy to see a supposedly friendly face in amongst all the hostile Whittaker ones.

Well, well, you thought, clever little Sarah.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

John had continued, “So you see, my darling mama - and I do apologise most profusely for this - is now of the opinion that you are a very good prospect indeed. She and my sisters will be worried that I’ll say or do something to frighten you away! But I assure you that in getting to know you, those are the absolute furthest thoughts in my mind.”

Her eyebrows were steadily climbing as he spoke. Seeing this reaction - John, as he was fond of doing - had moved swiftly along to another topic of conversation.

He was grinning up at her, as she stood there deep in thought. “But on another and more interesting note… the bed itself might be old, but I just had a new mattress delivered a few months ago. It’s very good.” He patted the quilt next to him, “Like to give it a try?”

He didn’t truly expect her to agree so he wasn’t too disappointed when she laughed and shook her head. “I think we’d better get back downstairs, John!” Turning and walking out of the room, she sent him a smile over her shoulder which made his heart leap again.

Sighing, he got up off the bed and followed her.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Additional A/N: In the film, I never found Sarah’s smiling acceptance of John getting married to the brash Larita believable. She either never really loved him or else she was a seething mass of jealousy under that calm exterior. And I think the latter! Also, for anyone who’s a stickler for accuracy, Easy Virtue was set in the Roaring Twenties and the Reichter Scale wasn’t introduced until 1935, so that’s fiction writer’s licence right there 😉 😁

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@paracosmenthusiast

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

[greentrickster]

For @doodledrawsthings‘s new ‘Coffee Shop’ AU, because I started thinking about how Luka might react to meeting his ‘minions’ for the first time in this story, and then this happened! Enjoy!

Luka ducked behind the nearest tree with a sigh of relief – he’d just made it into the forest before the transformation had taken him completely. Now all he had to do was wait a bit until the mere thought of making himself look human again didn’t make his… whatever he was made out of in this form ache, and he could get back to the apartment and make sure Harriet knew he was okay. For the moment, though, best to move a little deeper into to Subcon forest, make sure he wasn’t spot-

“Holy crap!”

He turned with a jerk and found himself almost nose to nose with a shocked looking… probably teenager? They stared at each other a moment before nature reasserted its unyielding order and the screaming started.

…if questioned later, he was going to deny that he was the one who screamed louder.

In the meantime, the teenager (was it even legal to be a teenager if you were still that small (…he needed to go over some legal texts again, at least pretend he still believed they’d find a solution to this, if only for Harriet’s sake)), took several steps backwards before going flying straight up into the air, which… definitely not normal. Oh, wait, no, completely normal, the kid had apparently found one of Mu’s ‘Snatcher traps’ the old-fashioned way – by activating it.

…he was also going to blame how this turned his screaming into laughter on nerves, because he was a respectable(ish) lawyer with a daughter and would certainly never laugh at something like this, no matter how funny it was, especially not to the teen’s face-

“I fell right into your trap, didn’t I?!”

“F-!” Luka Thatcher Princeton, you are a father and you will NOT swear in front of someone that small! “-OOOOOOOOOOOOOL, YES, YES YOU DID!” THAT WAS NOT BETTER!!!!! “So, um. Yes. You’re my prisoner, so you have to do what I say now, or I’ll… um-”

“Eat my soul?!?”

“WHAT?!? No- I mean, um, yes, I mean,” he paused and narrowed his eyes at his ‘captive,’ “You’re seeming awfully enthusiastic about being captured by some forest monster that may or may not be planning on consuming your soul.”

“That’s because I’m your loyal minion, Mr. Snatcher, sir!” the teen tried to squirm more upright in the net so they could face him better, but succeeding more in just spinning the entire contraption gently around.

“…my what?”

“Your loyal subject, Subconite 24!” the teen reported cheerfully, “But mostly people call me Cherry. Honoured to meet you, sir!”

Well that- that was- “I’m not going to remember that. And you can’t be my minion! Or my servant or subject or any other synonym you can think of!”

The teen actually drooped (at least, as well as they could from within the net trap), “Aw, why not?”

“Uhhh…” somehow he got the feeling that ‘because I don’t want any minions’ wasn’t going to cut it with this kid, “Because you haven’t signed a contract agreeing to abide by my rules! Can’t be a minion without a whole lot of paperwork, very tedious.” When in doubt, make things sound as boring and legal as possible – Harriet might be onto this ploy of his, but most people didn’t pick up on it, especially if they were under twenty.

“I’ll sign anything you want me to, Mr. Snatcher, sir!”

“That’s great, kid,” Luka growled, rubbing his forehead with one hand and gesturing with his other, “But it’s not like I have any pockets, so where exactly do you expect me to get a contract for you to be my minion and do my dirty work fro-” A puff of smoke in front of the teen’s face and an honest-to-god scroll dropped into their lap, leaving Luka to wonder yet again exactly what the peck was in whatever Vanessa had slipped him to land him in this mess- “HEY, WAIT, AT LEAST READ IT FIRST-!”

His self-proclaimed minion looked up just in time to finish signing the contract he’d apparently magicked into being (because of course they had a pen with them, why wouldn’t they, this was his life after all). “Is that an order?”

No, it was common sense! “…yes, it is, always read your contracts before signing them from now on.”

“You got it, boss!” They rolled up the scroll again and stuck it through the net for him to take. As soon as it was in his hand, it vanished, so that meant he was going to spend a fun night trying to figure out how to make it reappear so he could find out what he had apparently coerced a minor into doing for him-

Wait, no, the teen is a teen, no adult witnesses, that meant the contract wasn’t legally binding, so that would… probably do absolutely nothing to help convince the teen they weren’t now his official minion. Peck. Well, might as well make the most of it- “Ahem, yes, I’m your boss now. So I’m going to let you down and you’re going to go straight home and not tell anyone about this! Got it?”

‘His minion’ wilted and shot him a pleading look. “Not even Lance? Please, boss?”

…why were they so small, he was too much of a dad for- “Okay, fine, but you can only tell Lance! Now stay still, I’m letting you go.”

“You got it, boss!”

Luka heroically didn’t betray any hint of how he really felt about the situation and set to work on Mu’s knots (which would have been so much easier if he had more than four digits total, he’d learned how to cope over the years, but snod, what he wouldn’t give for thumbs in this form…). The whole contraption came loose in a rush, dropping the teen on the forest floor too fast for him to catch them. “…I did that on purpose.”

“Wouldn’t expect any less of you, boss!” they replied, standing and dusting themselves off, “You sure I can’t do anything else for you before I go home?”

“Nope, I’m fine, get going right now or I’ll… eat your soul for real?”

“Okay, got it!”

He watched them go, still looking far too chipper for someone who had just encountered, well… him in a dark forest, let alone been threatened with soul consumption. At least they were gone now-

…he hadn’t ordered them to tell Lance not to tell anyone.

…

…at least he was feeling good enough to become human again long enough to get home, because he hadn’t needed to scream into his mattress this much in years…

 ------

(It’s their AU, so I figured Mak’s subconite should get to be the first one to ‘meet’ their new boss! And Lance is, naturally, a reference to @mindboogling‘s SubconKnight, because he’s darling and also has a human name)