#well look at that i guess i did have some thoughts after all

[alchemistc]

Part One

The loft is sadly undecorated. He'd tried, is the thing. Gone to the same novelty store they'd found on a random walk after a date, in late September, where Tommy had spent twenty minutes worrying a foam pumpkin in his hands while Buck tried to decide what sort of decor would fit his utilitarian loft.

They'd spent so long lingering over the sculpted white candles, Buck thrilled because Tommy's straight face broke every time Buck pointed out which ones looked like incredibly expensive dildos, that he'd felt bad enough to buy a whole set of them just to appease the girl at the counter who'd been watching them with a half annoyed, half wistful expression while Buck made a comment about dragons that had had Tommy biting his lip so hard he'd actually gone red in the face trying to hold the laughter in.

But every time he'd picked up a glass tree and thought how much fun it'd be to try to make Tommy go full Tik Tok Paramedic on him, every time he'd found something soft or plush enough that Tommy wouldn't have been able to resist running his fingers over it, plucking it up to toss it between his palms - well.

It wasn't like there'd be anyone in his loft long enough to really appreciate his decorations.

"Why'd you kiss me?" he asks, rounding on Tommy as Tommy takes a tentative step towards the kitchen.

"You were being annoying." At Buck's look, he elaborates. "Force of habit."

The finger comes up without any input from Buck, his voice tipping into that same flirty, bickering rapport he'd always pushed as far as he could. "I knew you did it to shut me up."

Tommy expression shutters. He recognizes Buck's tone. A few months ago that tone would start with a round of banter that usually ended with at least one of them with their pants around their ankles.

He looks spooked. He's staring at the island stool closest to the door like he's replaying the last conversation they had here, and Buck feels all his ire rear back up.

"You promised me clarity, Tommy." It's an accusation, and they both know it, because he looks ready to fucking bolt.

Slowly, he steps in. Half a yard closer to Buck, close enough to curl his hand over the island, and Buck is struck again by how goddamn unfair it is that Tommy looks this goddamn good in a suit.

"I did."

Buck's pretty sure he has some muffins he hasn't frozen yet that wouldn't actually damage Tommy, if he threw them at him.

"Can we...?" He gestures, vague as his half a question, and Buck wants to throttle him. Or kiss him again, which is -

"I need a beer. You?"

Tommy sighs. His grip on the corner of the island makes his knuckles go white. "Evan."

"No beer, got it." He swings the door open and doesn't wait for the reaction to either his snippy little rejoinder or the stacks and stacks of baked goods filling up the shelves of his fridge. He pops the cap with his back still turned, let's the fridge door fall closed. "Not like you drove here, but sure. One of us should be sober, I guess."

The switch back to Evan doesn't do anything for him at all.

Buck leans back against the counter and tries not to think about how he'd had this half formed idea of getting a real tree this year, finding some novelty kiosk that made those hokey ornaments for people to mark the years they'd been a family. He'd thought -

Tommy blinks guiltily when Buck catches him eyeing the way he fills out his slacks, a toe to groin drift of his gaze that makes Buck ache for when he could respond to that by dropping to his knees.

"That's a lot of bread," Tommy notes, eyes focused somewhere over Buck's shoulder.

"Why'd you break up with me, Tommy?"

Tommy freezes. Shifts from foot to foot. Sighs, and takes a few steps to the fridge, swings it open to grab a beer of his own. It's still the stuff Tommy likes. Buck's not picky, really, and it'd been habit to grab the six pack he always kept for Tommy.

The last five times he'd restocked.

Tommy takes half a step back to lean against the island, just off center from Buck, so they both have to twist their necks just a little to actually look at each other.

"You terrify me," Tommy murmurs, a few swigs in, when the silence is just starting to make Buck's skin itch. "Evan, I'm not -." He grimaces, frustrated. "I'm not some Super Gay who fights for justice and equality and the ability to make horrible television with Hummel doll sopranists."

"I don't know what that means."

Tommy's smile is wry. He'd had a running list of movies Buck's never seen on a note on his phone - every time Buck missed a reference, he'd added it to the list. They'd gotten through maybe twenty before -

"I led on a good woman for years because I convinced myself I could live my life ignoring a huge piece of myself. I hurled slurs with my buddies just to make sure no one noticed me. I fed into every toxic stereotype I could just to avoid anyone realizing I wasn't one of them. I'm not - I'm not some Gold Star Gay, paragon of the community. I didn't do shit. And even when I made the decision to let myself just be who I always was, I waited until no one in my life was close enough to me to question that I hadn't always been this way. I -." He winces. Shakes his head. "I run instead of fighting. I hide every time someone tries to see me. I'm not - this comfort you're so convinced I have I took at the cost of other people who were braver and stronger than I could ever be. Do you - is that an admirable quality, to you?"

Buck wishes they'd sat, like Tommy seemed to have been hinting at. He wishes he'd spent the ride over preparing himself for this, instead of stopping himself from crawling into Tommy's lap and getting a horrible rider rating for his trouble. He wishes -

"Do you think I don't already know all those things about you?"

It's - actually, it makes him a little furious, to think that Tommy spent six months thinking he'd successfully hid all those things from Buck. And - sure, he hadn't exactly been forthcoming about more than a few of those things, but like -

It wasn't like Buck didn't actively find ways to pry stories from Howie and Hen, even Bobby on occasion. It wasn't like Buck hadn't noticed the clipped way Tommy spoke of his past, his family, always tucking away more than he revealed. It wasn't like Buck wasn't well aware that Tommy Kinard had the capacity to be a total fucking asshole, if he wanted. Just because he'd kept it cool around Buck, made it just flirty enough for plausible deniability -

"You deserve better than that. Than me."

"Then be better than that, Tommy." It's not the best way to get his point across, but... "I've had multiple serious relationships, Tommy. I'm - I've been in love, before, and I've had my heart broken before, and I've had my trust broken before, and I've made people I love feel like shit. You weren't new and exciting, Tommy, we were - we were boring and domestic and it was the best six months of my life. It was what I -."

And this, of course, is where the words start to crest over, too many at once while his mouth tries to keep up and his throat is too tight to -

He swallows. Stares at his toes until his vision swims. Maybe those are tears, or maybe he's just stared long enough to go cross-eyed. His throat feels like he might be able to scrape a few words out

"I go too fast sometimes. I - I get scared I'm falling behind and so I clear a few hurdles too fast to catch back up and it -." Frustration rises through him as he remembers the way Tommy had levered himself up, spun away, broken things off without even a hint of the careful consideration Buck had grown so used to. "And you just - you tell me you want more than anything to be my last but you can't even give me the closure of a clean break! What the hell was that about?"

"Evan, I -."

"No! Okay, no. It's my turn to - it's my turn to be mad. It's my turn to - do you know how lonely I've been? How - how much I'm in my own head about where I went wrong, and what I could have done differently, and why you won't just fucking text me when you clearly want to? Do you know - do you know what it's like to think you've finally found something worth the humiliation of being known and then have it vanish in a single night? Over - you never talked to me about any of the shit you brought up that night, Tommy! You never - if you were so scared of not being enough to keep me interested, or so sure you weren't a good enough man, or so sure I couldn't possibly know what I wanted out of this, you could have saved us a hell of a lot of time and - and hurt by not being exactly the person I thought I could spend the rest of my life with! If that was all a - a smokescreen, some act, then why did you - are you actually so cruel that you convinced me we were falling in love while you had one foot out the door the whole time?"

Tommy's grip on the bottle looks painful.

"It's your turn to talk," Buck snipes, and he takes a little satisfaction in the way Tommy blanches. Just a little. Just enough to ignore how much he wants to rip Tommy's suit jacket at the straining shoulder seams and bite a bruise into that spot below his collarbone that even Tommy's undershirts hid well enough to keep the team at Harbor from putting him on blast for coming to work covered in hickeys.

"Six months with you was more devastating than two decades of hiding who I was, Evan," Tommy says, and it's a horrible opening that makes Buck feel like he's being drawn and quartered but he'd given Tommy the floor, so -

Tommy's eyes are a little too misty to call them anything but welling, and Buck hates it as much as it satisfies the pieces of himself he's spent weeks trying to pick up and glue back together.

"Evan, I lived with Abby for years and I don't think I saw her as much as I saw you. You -." He swipes a hand through his hair, and rustles one of his Superman curls loose to drape tauntingly over his forehead. Buck wants to bite him. He wants it to hurt. "You burrowed in and you just kept digging and I didn't take a second to question it until it was too late."

"Too late for what?"

"For me to take the cowards way out and leave before it hurt."

"Maybe I should have dug further," Buck snaps, and Tommy's gaze flits to his. Holds, for the first time all night. He's breathtaking in the best and worst way possible. He's spent weeks now trying to imagine anyone else ever making him feel the way prolonged eye contact with this man makes him feel.

"You did," Tommy admits, a confession that sounds like it's been gut punched right out of him. "You still -." Another grimace, Tommy pulling back, pulling away, hiding, running, and Buck can't -

"So what is this, Tommy? Is this - are you -?" He shakes his head to clear the cobwebs. Rears up, pushes off the counter, and Tommy's eyes widen like he's just now realized he doesn't have an easy exit. Buck just stands there, though. "If this is it, let this be it. If you don't want - if you're not willing to fight for this with me, tell me now. I know I'm - I know I'm a lot. I know I push for more when I'm scared. I know I'm overwhelming, and I sometimes can't stop talking to save my life, and I know I'm jealous and petty and - I know I'm not perfect."

Tommy sets his bottle on the counter beside him. Worries his lip between his teeth and rolls his jaw.

"You snore. You're a bitch sometimes and every once in a while it's not even charming. You hog all the covers and then you complain that it's too hot. You're vague about every single thing in your past that you think makes you seem like a bad person. You always think food needs more garlic and sometimes you're wrong. Sometimes when I spiral you just give me that stupid indulgent smile of yours and I know you stopped listening two reddit threads ago. When you're grumpy sometimes it takes everything in me not to pick a fight because you're such an asshole. You get cagey every time I pick at a thread you don't want to unravel and I - I hate it. I wanted a life with you and you couldn't stick around long enough to tell me why you were too afraid to go for it. So if - if you think I'm seeing you with rose colored glasses, or whatever. If you think I'm not - if you think being the first guy makes you too special for this to be real then just..." He sucks in a breath. Blows it out through his nose and feels the ache in his chest that's half remnants of his earlier panic attack and half fear that Tommy will actually turn and walk out at the end of this. "If you don't wanna fight for this I'll fill in the hole I dug as best I can and I'll leave you alone, okay?"

The look on Tommy's face is one he's never seen before. They've done this dance, or parts of it, at least. Tommy'd left him outside Micelli's, breathless and confused and aching, before he ever knew what it was like to hold his hand, to press his nose into the join of his neck and shoulder, to curl a hand in his hair or be filled by him - with attention, with affection, with the weight of his body and the stretch of his cock. Even then, this had felt different. Real, in a way the misty edges of his time with Abby, or the way Buck's puzzle pieces had never quite fit with Taylor's had never been. Even then, he'd just wanted so desperately to know and be known by Tommy that he'd taken his second chance and run with it.

"I don't snore," Tommy says, when the silence gets too heavy, and Buck - god, Buck has missed that tone, the snappy little tilt of his head, the blatant lie that passes over Tommy's lips so smoothly it's hard to tell sometimes that he's not being serious.

"I have audio proof," Buck says, and then doesn't immediately admit that he'd played it on a loop two nights into the breakup when he'd wrapped his entire body around the spare pillows on his bed and still hadn't been able to sleep alone in his bed.

"It bugs me that you spent days following scraps of information about a dead outlaw you convinced yourself cursed you, but you didn't even know what a Kinsey scale was."

This is - progress. This is... not Tommy bolting.

"I'm a two. If that's - is that, like, gay enough for you, or...?"

"You go too fast for me, Buckley," he says, and Buck knows that's a fucking reference to something he doesn't have context for just as well as he knows he's willing to spend the next decade waiting for the reference to pop up on Tommy's list. It's a terrifying, exhilarating thought and it's probably exactly what Tommy means.

"I can slow down," Buck says, and he tries to mean it. Nothing about how he feels about Tommy is slow.

"I don't want you to," Tommy admits, and then lets the silence stretch. They're two and a half feet away from each other and the distance feels like the farthest he's ever been from Tommy and the closest he may ever be again. "Living together, making a life together..." He swallows. "Marriage." That stops him short just long enough to recall how he'd blazed right past the I love you and straight into how he could keep Tommy. "You scare the shit out of me every goddamn minute of every goddamn day and I've never missed being terrified as much as I have since I walked out that door."

"I'm in love with you," Buck tells him, and Tommy blinks back tears. Takes a shaky breath and nods.

"That's what scares me. It's never - it's never been enough, before."

He'd sort of expected this to end with either the echo of his KitchenAid or a frantic rush up the stairs, but when Tommy meets him halfway all he does is sink his nose into the curls behind Buck's ear and breathe.

His arms drag Buck closer, his feet shuffle beneath them, his chin hooks over Buck's shoulder and he breathes, and breathes, and breathes.

---

"Your morning breath is rancid," Tommy tells him, palm centered on Buck's nose when he leans in for a kiss, pads of his fingers curled just slightly so that his hand is nearly encasing Buck's entire face. He wants to be annoyed but it's mind numbingly hot and Buck has missed it. Missed the snark, and the comfortable way Tommy will shoot him down when his head is in the clouds, and exactly how fucking large Tommy is.

"I'm so tired of avocado toast," Buck bats back, and Tommy is distracted enough by his need to make a face at that for Buck to swoop in and press a kiss to his cheek. He makes sure to make it a little wet just to watch Tommy's face crinkle in mock disgust.

He's in one of Buck's hoodies, is wearing the pair of his own sweats Buck had buried in the back of his closet in a fit of pique three days post breakup. He still looks properly debauched and Buck wants to drag him right back to bed.

Except -

"You don't have to go," Buck repeats, for the fifth time since he brought it up somewhere between peeling Tommy out of his suit pants and rolling out of bed to warm a hand towel under the sink so that Tommy could clean the cum off his abs. "But I need to shower and leave in like - twenty-seven minutes."

Tommy catches him by the waist and drags him in. "I won't be able to stay. You baked and I took as much holiday overtime as I could, but if you seriously want me there -."

"I seriously want you everywhere."

Tommy raises a brow.

"I mean that in a horny way and a codependent way."

Tommy snorts. "Good to know we're approaching this in a healthy manner."

"You told me not to slow down," Buck reminds him, and he gets a smack to his ass for his trouble.

"When Maddie pulls me aside, do you think she'll just slip me a poisoned glass of wine, or is she gonna get up on a step stool and make me stand there while she strangles me to death?"

"She won't do that." Buck leans in again, rolls a loose curl between two fingers. "She'll just stab you in the middle of the kitchen and warn my parents not to step in the blood."

"That's comforting."

Tommy takes a utilitarian shower in the downstairs bathroom and doesn't let Buck join him, and then rifles through Buck's closet until he finds all three of his button downs Buck had tucked away.

He has to borrow a pair of Buck's slacks and Buck absolutely does not mind that his ass is definitely gonna stretch them out.

With about seventy seconds to spare, Tommy presses Buck to his front door and kisses him just long enough to screw up Buck's meticulous timing - by the time he pulls back and gives Buck enough room to glance at the time on his stove, Buck knows they're gonna hit just enough red lights to make them late.

"I love you too, by the way," Tommy murmurs, and just this once, Buck decides not to be a brat about being five minutes late.

[misswynters]

Jinx comforting depressed reader...as best she could

featuring. jinx x platonic! sister reader

requested by anon

Jinx wasn’t the best at handling emotions, well at least not the messy, quiet ones that didn’t come with explosions or screaming matches. But when she saw you, curled up on the edge of the old couch in the hideout, staring at nothing in particular, she couldn’t just walk away. It wasn’t the first time she’d found you like this, but it still hit her like a sucker punch to the gut every single time.

She approached cautiously, her usual chaotic energy dialed back to something softer. The quiet shuffle of her boots against the floor was the only sound as she made her way over, dropping down beside you with a loud plop. She stretched her legs out in front of her, slouching dramatically, trying to fill the space with her presence alone.

“You know,” she started, twirling a strand of her blue hair around her finger, “I was gonna blow something up today. Had the whole thing planned out—fireworks, kabooms, the works. But then I thought…” She leaned her head back and tilted it to look at you. “Maybe explosions aren’t what we need today.”

You blinked slowly, finally glancing her way, your expression unreadable. “We?”

“Yeah, we,” she said with a shrug, nudging your leg with hers. “You’re my partner-in-crime, remember? What’s the point of causing chaos if you’re not there to laugh about it after?”

You let out a faint snort, the first crack in the wall of silence that had been surrounding you all day. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make Jinx’s grin widen.

“Ah, there it is! I knew you still had some life in you, sis.” She pulled herself up into a cross-legged position, turning to face you fully. “Okay, let’s make a deal. You talk to me—about whatever’s got you all doom-and-gloom—and I’ll make it worth your while.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s ‘worth my while’ supposed to mean?”

She smirked, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Guess you’ll have to find out. But you’ve got my full attention, which, let’s be real, is worth its weight in gold.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. Jinx always had a way of breaking through your walls, no matter how high you tried to build them. You hesitated, your gaze dropping to your hands, which were twisting nervously in your lap.

“It’s… hard to explain,” you murmured. “I just feel… heavy. Like I’m stuck in this fog, and no matter what I do, I can’t get out of it.”

Jinx’s expression softened, the teasing glint in her eyes replaced by something gentler. She reached out and took your hands in hers, her grip warm and grounding. “Yeah, that fog sucks,” she said simply. “I’ve been there. And it feels like it’s never gonna go away, right?”

You nodded, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

“Well, here’s the thing,” she continued, squeezing your hands lightly. “That fog? It’s a liar. It wants you to think you’re stuck forever, but you’re not. You’ve got me, and I’ll keep dragging you through it if I have to.”

Her words were unpolished, maybe even clumsy, but they hit exactly where they needed to. You felt a tear slide down your cheek, and before you could wipe it away, Jinx was leaning over to wrap you in a tight, slightly awkward hug. She smelled like gunpowder and oil and something uniquely her, and it was oddly comforting.

“Okay, okay, no more crying,” she said, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Because I’ve got a plan.”

You sniffled, your curiosity piqued despite everything. “A plan?”

“Yep!” She stood up and offered you her hand. “We’re gonna do something that makes you smile, even if it kills me. And I’m not talking about one of those fake, polite smiles you do when you’re pretending to be okay. I mean a real one.”

You hesitated for a moment before taking her hand, letting her pull you to your feet. “What did you have in mind?”

She grinned, her excitement infectious. “Oh, you’ll see. But fair warning: it might involve paint, glitter, and me being an absolute menace.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you laughed. A small, genuine sound that made Jinx’s chest swell with pride. “There’s my sis,” she said, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go make a mess.”

taglist. @writingwisterias @ekkosh @inguuuuu @themostlesbianever

[amiaclone]

I came to kindly ask something about the unmasked square boss that they take hostage in episode 7

*inhale*

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE 😭

You asked I’ll writeee!

*Just as In ho was about to shoot the unmasked guard you grabbed the gun down and turned to the guard*

*He looked to be about the same age as you early 20s or teens maybe? Either way he was young it was wrong but he has his whole life ahead of him!*

*The guard seemed shocked you took the gun and sighed* “Tell us where the headquarters of this place is. Killing you would make us just as bad.” *You spoke in a calm yet stern voice the unmasked guard couldn’t help but stare in admiration*

*As he took us to the place the unmasked guard stuck to you the whole time the others seemed he’d kill him during the first chance they’d get you however seemed different i mean he KNEW he deserved to die but….you gave a nice like home feeling he hasn’t ever felt that in ages…..if at all.*

*You decided to try talking to the guard as he was walking right next to you and maybe find out some backstory as to why guards are guards and hey…..he’s kinda cute.*

“Soo why are you a guard anyway?” *You asked out of the blue*

*The guard tensed he continued walking but he didn’t know what to say would you shoot him if he didn’t answer? What was he supposed to do just tell you?*

“Will you shoot me if i don’t tell you?”

*You quirked an eyebrow* “Why would i do that i need you to take us to the place…..ok and im intrigued that’s all how could they hire someone so young like you’re the same age as me dude….” *You stared at him and couldn’t help but observing his eyes….such beautiful eyes yet they seemed emotionless somehow.*

“Well if you really wanna know us guards are asked in a different way you players are.”

*You felt shocked for a second damn he was gonna tell you* “In what way exactly?”

“Well one thing we have in common is that we’re in pretty bad debt too…..if not more.”

*You quirked an eyebrow* “No way some guy here is in debt to 10 billion you’re telling me more than that?!”

*He didn’t say anything but you assumed he nodded*

“Oh well….what else?”

“Some of us are founded from places like let’s say we are homeless or in my case…..”

(Fake backstory incoming 🔥)

“I was an escaper from North Korea I had nowhere to go in fact i was pretty sure I could get sent back any day in the out world….”

*You frowned ah so he didn’t have anywhere to go that’s sad doesn’t justify anything but you can sympathise.*

“Ah so you had nowhere to go so you just took it?”

“Yes i….didn’t think i had a choice. That doesn’t matter anyway after all im pretty sure I’ll be killed after this….”

“Who said we’re killing you?”

*He quirked an eyebrow for once showing emotion on his face*

“No offense but I doubt this plan will succeed there’s too many guards and other workers that could and will come any minute and the manager….im not sure you’ll make it.”

*You shrugged* “Well if we DO fail why would they kill you?” “Number one rule is never show your face I’ll be killed even though im being forced.” *You pondered in thought you didn’t agree with anything this guy did no matter his backstory but you felt bad.* “Well why don’t you quickly put your mask on before they come?” *He sighed he couldn’t help but find your dumb questions…..cute.* “It’s not that simple.”

“Welll i guess this means you basically have to work with us then?” *Maybe lightening the mood was dumb but what else can you do in a situation like this?*

*Yet even though it’s something he never would of considered the unmasked guard couldn’t help but let out a small smile something he didn’t think he was capable of*

“That is so dumb….” *He stopped himself immediately afraid you’d shoot him for saying that you instead frowned*

“Heyy you could be a little nicer you know.”

“Im sorry-“ “Relax dude I’m messing chill out.” *He sighed in relief which you chuckled a bit out of pity and humour.* “You’re funny who knew a guard could be cool in some way…”

Sooo i hope you liked it sorry if it seemed short!

[swtsupernatural]

S.W || SILK & SHAPESHIFTERS

Sam Winchester x Thick!Fem!Reader

Content Warning reader being shorter than Sam, reader desc as having thick thighs, dean being annoying, swearing, reader wanting to fuck sam (but no sexual content in this fic)

Summary Fluff, (Sexual tension lowk) strangers to acquaintances to lovers(?) - You didn't work in the field. You did research. But when your good friend Bobby Singer asks you to help some friends of his by posing as a couple at a charity ball, you don't refuse.

W.C. 2.2k words

Playlist: ♫ Bed Chem - Sabrina Carpenter, Shoot to Thrill - AC/DC

A.N. sam fic ! i am curvy so i was excited asf for this req !!! part 2 coming soon... ;) - claire xx

Being a Lore-keeper has its perks. It let you put your literary degree to some use, and it didn't usually get you into too much trouble. But, tonight it had. Bobby Singer was one of your favorite hunters; always treated you well, housed you in sticky situations, and sometimes had books or information you didn’t know about that he offered for you to borrow. Usually, he came to you for information. He didn’t hunt a lot, but it was still more than you hunted. But, when he and his hunter friends did go out looking for trouble, he often came to you for information. When he’d asked you to help out some of his family on a case that was real serious, you agreed begrudgingly. But only after Bobby told you your outfit, dinner, and drinks that night would be paid for by this said ‘family’ of his. 

You’d already done a bit of research for him about this particular case and even you knew it was a tricky one. You’d spent the last week trying to piece all of the information together — running it through your countless trusted lore books, sites you favored, and even paper clippings and newspapers from the library. The place in question was only a few hours from Bobby’s in some fancy estate you’d mapped out by memory the last few days. You were guessing it was your least favorite of the supernatural creatures you’d perilously studied — shapeshifters. They made your skin crawl, and were tricky when they came in multiple. The family you suspected they were impersonating were the Bradys, a rich family that had lived in South Dakota for generations and hosted fundraiser parties each year for some organization their rich friends ran. Some of the members of the family had been photographed partaking in some suspicious activity, activity of which the police deemed fine of course; but you were smart enough to know this was your type of problem. A few of them had also seemingly gone missing, and either mysteriously turned up fine, or were still a missing persons case. 

You decided to use Bobby’s as a place to get ready the second he offered, he lived closest anyways. You thought it was best to come over in the morning to talk more to him and whoever you were going on the case with, plan everything out. He’d been vague about who it was, though, and when you walked inside and saw Sam and Dean Winchester holding suits, a shopping bag, an EMF reader, and a pack of Coronas, you knew why. 

You’d never given the boys information directly — Bobby had told you he relayed much information from you to them in tricky cases, but that the older one, Dean, was too prideful to ask you directly yet. Of course, like all male jackass hunters, he had eventually asked when he learned what they were dealing with and all the intricacies that you were extremely skillful in. The catch was that you hated field work, but also loved an excuse to get dressed up. You’d told Bobby your dress and shoe size, and sure enough, the taller one was holding a dark velvety blue dress over his arm. 

“y/n, this is Sam, and this is Dean.” The shorter one, though he towered over you still, stuck out his hand, that jackass smirk on his face you knew he’d have. 

“Heard a lot about you.” He spoke, the smirk still on his, admittedly handsome, face.

You didn’t like having your guard up. You hated it really, but being in your line of work and constantly dealing with men who dismissed your intelligence made you rightfully put up walls when you’d first meet them. 

“Heard a lot about you too, but don’t think that means I’m your best friend now. I’m doing this for Bobby.” 

The taller one smiled gingery, letting out a silent laugh watching Dean’s ego deflate. You turned to him, sticking out your hand. “Sam. Nice to meet you. And uh, thanks for coming out on this case, Bobby said field work isn't usually your thing so we really appreciate it.” You already preferred him. A lot, actually. He was tall, and looked way too fucking cute in that oversized brown hoodie he still had on despite being inside Bobby’s fairly warm home. 

“We’re taking off at five so we’ll be right on time, okay?” Dean said to the two of you, rolling his eyes at how you hadn’t made any sassy comments at his brother. 

“Sounds good. May I have my items, gentleman? I’m not doing this for free.” Sam smiled again, more noticeably this time, handing you the dress and shoes, and a purse, which you hadn't asked for but were not going to turn down. 

“Thank you. So, the game plan is…?” “Game plan is you and I pose as a date and distract people while Dean sneaks around and corners a couple shifters, ganks ‘em, and then we get out before all hell breaks loose.”

You shrugged, looking at Sam, “Sounds good to me.” Of course he was cute and smart. God, you usually never let some guy get between you and case work, but he was making it hard. But if all you had to do was pose as a couple…

“Wait. If you needed me for acting I don’t know why you couldn’t call someone else.” 

“We don’t know who's a shifter and who isn’t. That’s the problem. You know their tells, what makes them tick, how to trick them, the layout of the place. Bobby got some ear pieces for all of us so you can help me from afar, don’t have to get your hands dirty.” Dean grunted, losing his dark leather jacket and grabbing a suit, heading to the bathroom to change. 

“How thoughtful,” you mused, and he smiled annoyingly at you.

“We’ll talk more in the car, okay? Just get ready and we’ll be here if you have any more questions.” Sam said softly. HIs voice was deep and smooth, and it made you want to grab him by his collar and lock the two of you in Bobby’s guest room. Instead, you opted for pushing your thighs together and clearing your throat. “Sounds good. Thank you.” He smiled, going into the guest room with his own suit. You opted to lock yourself upstairs in the bathroom blasting music while you did your makeup in order to pump yourself up. You were a bit nervous, but you didn’t have to do dirty work, you got a nice new outfit, hopefully a nice drink, and a hot date? This was much better than how you thought your night was going to go — curled up on the couch, looking through way too many old files and books for another hunter, playing an old movie in the background and wishing you were elsewhere. You liked your job, you really did. But sometimes it drove you crazy how little you saw other people, people your own age especially. Tonight was like a gift sent from the angels. Well, ones that you hadn’t met; so far they had all been dicks. 

“y/n, ya’ almost ready?” Dean called up, just as you finished styling your hair in a classy style. 

“Coming!” You came down the stairs in a navy dress that hugged your curves pretty well, you thought. The dress was pretty low cut and the sides came up at a slit high up on your right leg. You honestly felt exposed, you usually didn't dress like this. Sam still had your heels, and when you came down, the first thing you saw was his eyes on your legs, stopping him from tying up his shoes.

You heard a low whistle behind you, and Dean’s gruff voice, “Damn, you clean up nice.” Bobby smacked him over the head with the book he was reading, going to the kitchen to get you an earpiece he had for each of you. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You smiled, walking over to Sam on the couch. He was still occupied with your dress, and his eyes were making your face burn up. Your brain couldn't decipher how he was feeling based on his face… you teetered between him wanting to rip off your dress and stay home with you all night, or that he thought you looked…not good. You knew you didn't have skinny model legs, but that wasn't you job. Your job was to decode, translate, find, and relay important information to hunters, stopping people from dying. That was you job, and you were good at it. There was so much more to you than your looks, and if someone couldn't see that then fuck them. But, with how stuffy the room was and how close Sam was to you, you wrapped your arms around your shoulders, sitting a bit far from Sam asking for your shoes despite the voices in your head telling you you were fine.

“Y-yeah, here. I’ll put them on.” Your mouth opened to speak, but it was dry and nothing came out. Sam leaned down from the couch, sitting on his knees right in front of you. You finally stretched out your left ankle, and he slid on one of the black stilettos they'd picked out for you. He set down your foot after buckling the straps, grabbing your right ankle and moving it forward gently, causing the fabric of your dress to fall between your thighs on one side, and on the very back of your hip on the other, your leg completely bare. Sam finished tying up your second shoe, his eyes flashing to your soft thigh before clearing his throat and offering a hand to help you stand up. 

Once you were stable, you flattened down your dress. You looked up at Sam and pouted at how much taller he still was than you. 

“Aren’t these like…almost 4 inches?” Sam looked down at you and chuckled deeply. 

“Uh, yeah. They are. Disappointed you're still shorter than me?” You rolled your eyes and glimpsed over him — eyes trailing his fitted black suit, the fabric clinging to his chest and legs nicely.  

“What are you, like part giant? 7 feet tall?” You said it as a joke, but you honestly thought he had to be close to that. 

“Please,” Sam said, a bit close to your ear, leaning down to talk to you, “I’m…6’5. Just about.”

“Jesus…” you muttered, and realized you’d said it outloud. “Uh, we should get going soon, I think, it’s almost five, right?”

Sam nodded, squinting his eyes at your lower body so quickly you almost missed it. Dean put ear pieces in each of your hands and showed you how to use them. You followed the brothers out to their car and said bye to Bobby.

“Be careful, idjits. Keep in contact.”

“Will do.” You said, smiling to Bobby before getting in the back of the car, Sam opening and closing the door for you before sliding into the front seat a bit awkwardly from how long his legs were.  

“Ready?” Dean uttered, putting his elbow on Sam’s seat. 

“As ever.” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, seeing Dean’s vividly green eyes through the rear view mirror. Shoot to Thrill by AC/DC came on, and Sam mused on your quiet singing.

“You like AC/DC?” Sam asked, turning around a bit to talk to you more clearly. 

“Yea, that, Metallica, some Guns N’ Roses, Rolling Stones....” Sam groaned, rolling his eyes, knowing Dean would have some stupid comment about that. 

“Really?” Dean spoke up, turning down the music a bit.

“Yes. Don’t cream your pants.” Sam smiled at that. It wasn’t super often that women Dean hit on shut him down as unreservedly as you did. 

“I know you got eyes for my idiot brother, but at least entertain me.”

“Okay. Who was the one that picked out the dress? And shoes? And purse?” You smirked at the back of Dean’s head. 

“Sammy…” Dean mumbled begrudgingly. 

“That's what I thought. Can you turn the music back up?” Dean’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He’d never had someone come in his car and tell him to do something like that, but he did so without saying anything. 

Hours passed, and the Impala rolled to a stop in front of the biggest most obnoxious house you’d ever seen. 

“Jesus. Showoff much?” Dean voiced from the front seat, unbuckling and stepping out. Sam followed, opening your door before you got the chance. 

“So civilized.” You said poshly, seeing that adorable smile you liked seeing on Sam’s beautiful face. 

“Alright. You two go inside first. Use the earpiece to tell me when you know where one is, tell me which way to go. We don’t know each other, got it? You got your fake, y/n?” said Dean.

“My what?” Sam handed you an ID with a photo of your face, but it didn’t say your name. “How many of these do you guys have? Actually, don’t answer that.” Sam held out his right arm and you slid yours under his. He began walking, taking large spread out steps. You saw his face flash, knowing he realized you were struggling to keep up; not just from your heels, but from his obnoxious height. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, again, with that deep, smooth voice close to your ear. Fuck. This is gonna be a hard night. 

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Slenderman with a creative writing s/o who leaves little drabbles for him. Very dramatic ones. When they're upset they write about the world ending, when they're happy they write a lot of fluffy nonsense... Better when they're in a gossiping mood they'll write about the drama and make him guess who it's about before telling him the real deal. Just something cute where they'll even leave little notes around for him to find, including slipping some into his work when he's too busy to see them 🙏🙏

He loves it. This man fully adores you so much, and this truly just really adds to that on so many levels. Slender has always been a reader, so even if your stories could be incredibly short, or unusually long, he's always looking forward to finding the next one to read. He can't always be by your side due to the mountains of work he has to do on a regular basis, so it brings him very great joy to know you have a hobby you can keep up with, especially when it allows you to express yourself and vent your emotions in such a healthy way. I will say though, he did NOT get it at first, that you were leaving them specifically for him.

No, this poor man, he thought you were forgetting or losing your pieces of writing, and so he was just collecting and storing them for a little bit whenever he found them, before handing them back to you. "My dearest, it seems you've been improperly storing your writing. I have found them and cared for them for you, and so I'd like to return them to you." Cut to you standing there in confusion, an amused smile spreading on your face, before explaining to him that you had been leaving them out for him, and were wondering why he never mentioned his thoughts on them to you. He's a little flustered by the understanding, but then he proceeds to excitedly sit down and read through every single one, giving you his thoughts on all of them to make up for lost time. Following that moment, he starts collecting them again when he finds them, but he keeps them for himself (including the originals he tried to return to you), and he stores them in a folder so he can always look back on them and read them again. It really warms his heart, having a way to remember you and think of you when you're apart, and he fondly looks forward to the next ones. He does think it's a little silly where you end up hiding them sometimes.

He goes to make his morning coffee before the sun has even risen, and he finds a neatly folded story in his favorite mug. He goes to get dressed some mornings and finds them tucked away in shirt, jacket, or pants pockets, crinkling as he moves, chuckles leaving him as he already knows what they are before he removes them from his pockets. He adores everything you write, but he does also check in with you regularly depending on the contents. If he finds a particularly dark, depressing one on your sadder days he's quick to set aside his work and check in on you, visiting you and making sure you're alright, always reminding you that you can rely on him for everything. He cares so much for you, and he's learned to pick out little things in your writing that, even if not obvious to those who wouldn't know you as well, point to how you're feeling when writing. Although, much as he is loathe to admit it, he does love your gossipy ones. Especially when he's been having a rough day at work, and after signing another document he moves it to the side to find a piece of paper on it with a particularly juicy story scrawled across it. He's always down for tea, and you provide it so willingly for him, even if he'll never admit to being a gossiper. He also loves finding soft, fluffy stories the same way, though. If you notice he's the one having a rough time, leaving him little loving stories, filled with how much you love him, or reminding him of your favorite memories with him, slipped between his papers for the day. It does a lot to boost his mental health, and he appreciates it more than he can express. Eventually, he'll take after you, in turn leaving you his own stories and little notes hidden around for you to find. You'll both sit side by side with a warm drink at the end of the day, discussing your thoughts about the writings (and gossiping excitedly), and it makes him so unbelievably joyous to be able to have a lover who he can bond with like this.

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 35 - All Blends 6

Summary: Shanks and Mihawk re-familiarize themselves with you and get interrupted

Warnings: Smut Ahead!

Peppermint Tea Masterlist -> HERE

“I guess all it takes for you to admit your feelings is a life-threatening situation, huh, Mihawk,” Shanks teases, and Mihawk turns to glare over his shoulder at the redhead. You can’t help but laugh, finally feeling at ease with your boys after the admission of love and the easy way that Shanks poked fun at the other man. 

“Be quiet, Red,” Mihawk grumbled and then focused back on you. You can see the amusement that dances in his ringed gaze, “We’re having a moment.” 

Shanks scoffs, lips pulling up in a pout, “Ugh, can’t even wait for me. So selfish. I’m a part of this too, Hawkeye.” 

Mihawk rolls his eyes, “Do you hear anything, love? Because I don’t.”

You laugh again, cheeks hurting from how widely you are smiling. It felt wonderful to be surrounded by them again. You had missed their scathy attitudes and harness banter. You reach out, winding your arms around Mihawk’s neck, and pull him in for a much-needed kiss, lips moving against his own as you sag against the warlord. You feel Shanks slide up behind you, hooking his chin over your shoulder as he presses his lips to your neck, peppering your flesh with little kitten kisses that make you shiver. 

“I love you, too, Shanks,” You assure the redhead when Mihawk allows you up from the kiss. You lean back to rest your weight against the man behind you, sighing in relief when the distribution of weight makes your feet ache less. You look down when a hand curls around your stomach, heart softening at the sight. 

“How’s snowflake?” Shanks asks quietly, and you can’t help but huff at the nickname. 

“She’s doing good. Won’t be much longer until we get to meet her.” 

Both men catch on to your pronoun usage and share a look over your head. Mihawk had already heard this from you before, but Shanks hadn’t. The redhead turns you around with a careful hand and then drops to his knees, pressing his cheek to your stomach and grinning when he is kicked in the face for his troubles, “Well, she’s strong already, just like her daddies.” 

You smile, hand dropping down to thread your fingers through his hair, gently tugging the strands this way and that as you play with them. Mihawk wraps his arms around your middle, long fingers spread wide on either side of your stomach. He can’t help but the tiny smile that curls his lips when he feels the movement inside. 

“We need to find you a reliable doctor, darling. Nothing but the best for you,” He murmurs. They’ve talked about this before, and giving birth to your child had been the only thing that would have gotten you off your island, “How far along do you think you are?” 

You shiver when Shanks rusks your shirt up, pressing kisses to the underside of your stomach, and your grip tightens warningly in his hair. As much as you wanted your boys to lavish you with attention, you’ve had a very long, very stressful month away from your home and even longer away from them. You wanted a scalding shower and then to lay down with them wrapped around you. 

“Around 34 weeks, I think? Like I said, it won’t be much longer.” 

Shanks and Mihawk share another look, the redhead’s eyes wide as he slowly pulls away, though he keeps his hand tucked close, “Then we should hurry. Crocus will be able to take care of you.”

Mihawk frowns and licks his lips in thought, “He is at the very beginning of the Grand Line. Do you think you could get us there in time?” 

It’d taken Shanks three weeks and some odd days to make it from your island to Whole Cake, and that had been with him taking shortcuts. Mihawk didn’t think it would be possible for them to get to the lighthouse keeper before it was time for you to give birth. They could contact the Straw Hats, but neither man was ready to see Zoro or Luffy right now, nor did Mihawk think that the little raccoon dog had enough experience to help them. They could contact Marco the Phoenix, but last they heard, the man had holed himself off on Sphinx Island, but that was at least closer than Crocus. 

“Marco?” Shanks suggests. He would trust the other man with his most valuable treasure, and trust him to keep his mouth shut about why they needed him. No one needed to know that Shanks now had two weaknesses out there. The same could be said for the warlord. 

Mihawk purses his lips. He didn’t have as much experience with the other man, but they didn’t have a lot of options right now, “He’ll do.” 

You grunt suddenly, brows furrowing when you are kicked in the spleen, and decide that you are ready for your shower now, thank you very much. 

“I want it steaming,” you demand after they have detached themselves from you, and Shanks has left to go start the shower for you. The redhead sends you a lazy salute, a grin on his lips as he lopes away to do as you ask. Mihawk reaches for your shirt, carefully pulling the bright garment off your head and tossing it behind him. His eyes rake over your exposed front once you are bare to him, and his hand finds one of your perky breasts, cupping it gently and smoothing his thumb over a perked nipple. 

You hiss at the feeling, heat pooling between your legs, and Mihawk gives you a playful smirk before he does it again. Your toes curl in your socks, knees feeling like jelly just from the simple touch. 

“So sensitive, from the pregnancy, no doubt,” He murmurs and raises his other hand to cup your free breast, gently pushing against your nipple. Your hands find his shirt, teeth bared in pleasure as you grip the fabric tightly, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. You jump when you feel lips pressed against the middle of your back, and then a hot tongue laving at the thin skin just below your ear, and know that Shanks has come back from the bathroom. 

“Boys,” you whine quietly, and have to bite your lip to keep yourself from making any more embarrassing sounds, “Please.” 

Shanks grins against your throat, hand dipping low to dance his fingertips just above the panties you still wear, “Please what, baby? Please stop. Or please keep going?” 

He knows what he’d like to do. He wants you on your back, legs spread so that he could bury his face in your cunt and show you just how much he’d missed you. Mihawk is having similar thoughts, though he wants to see you atop him, hovering over him with his cock buried inside your pussy as you seek pleasure from him. 

You curse them both softly, bottom lip throbbing from how harshly you have bitten it, and crack your eyes open to meet molten golden eyes that are watching your every move. He gives you a small, teasing grin, tilting his head to the side with a soft hum. His thumbs massage your breasts, pressing and dragging along your nipples, and his voice is husky when he speaks, “Use your words, dear one. You must tell us what you want.” 

KA-BOOM!

The moment is shattered by the sound of cannon fire, and it is a good thing that you were stuck between the two men, or you would have fallen to the floor. Their haki spills forth, lashing and whipping like a hurricane, but you have never been safer sandwiched between them. Shanks pulls away, grabbing up your shirt and Mihawk takes it from him to slide it over your shoulders. 

“I’ll stay here, you go and find out who’s attacking us,” Mihawk orders and the redhead disappears after giving both of his treasures a quick kiss. You watch him leave, your heart in your chest as you look back at Mihawk. 

“It’s Big Mom, isn’t it?” 

The warlord leads you over to a chair and sits you down, kneeling in front of your chair, “Most likely, love. Shanks will deal with them, so do not worry.” 

You smile at your lover and take the hand that he offers you, “I know he will. I know that you’ll keep me safe, too.” 

Behind them, the door is ripped open and Perona comes stumbling in, Hank and Sukuna trailing behind her. Hank whines and drops low when another cannon goes off, crawling forward so that he lays under your chair. Sukuna takes up the spot in your lap, glaring at the warlord until Mihawk huffs and rises from his crouch. 

“Shanks looked pissed,” Perona comments and throws herself into a free chair. She had passed the redhead on the way to the captain’s quarters and had spotted the murderous look on his face. 

The warlord huffs a laugh and shares a look with you, “I’m sure he is.” 

Topside, Shanks glared at the approaching ships. There were three of them, all gaudy with bright colors and big sails. They obviously came from Big Mom, the woman most likely furious after finding out that he and Mihawk had found you, and he wondered which one of her children had cried wolf to her over Katakuri’s actions. 

“Yasoop, take out their main sails,” Shanks ordered his second mate, and the Red Force shook in answer. The captain watched in vicious satisfaction as a single cannonball sailed through the air and hit the main sail’s mast on the ship to the right. It tilted dangerously and then fell, hitting the foremast and causing the massive sails to fold into one another. The ship veered to the right and hit the vessel next to it, puncturing the stern and causing water to flood the inside of the second ship.

A tailwind catches the last ship and launches it forward, bringing it close enough to the Red Force that Shanks could see the terrified looks on the pirates faces when they realized who they had chased after. Shanks unleashes his haki, flaring it to the point that places on his own ship splintered and cracked as he step forward. The redhead stands on the railing at the bow, and once the other vessel is close enough, Shanks launches himself forward, sword drawn and intent to kill. 

Big Mom’s ship crumbles under his will, wood splintering, and the pirates hit the deck with a dazed look upon their faces. Shanks arches his sword up, and it comes crashing down with a boom, severing the vessel in half like a hot knife through butter. He listens to the pirates scream and plead, but it all falls on deaf ears. They had signed their death warrant the second they thought that they could even try and take you away from him. 

Once the commotion seems to have died down, Mihawk leads the way up to the deck, and you take in the destruction with wide eyes. You’d yet to see what your boys could do with the power that practically bleeds from them, but it was still more than you expected. You find yourself blushing, and shift your weight, not having expected that the sight of their strength would turn you on so much. 

You shove the feeling down for now and look around for your redheaded lover, and laugh when you find him standing in the very tip of the stern of the sinking ship, hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword and a smug look painting his face. Benn swings the Red Force closer to the wreckage and Shanks leaps up and back on the deck, loping over to you and sweeping you up for a kiss that takes your breath away. 

“Took care of ‘em,” Shanks says, and then notices the way your face is still flushed with arousal. He grins down at you like the pirate he is and then looks up to meet Mihawk’s gaze, winking at the other man as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close to his side. He cuts his eyes at Benn, and his first mates nod at him. 

“I'll get us out of here, Captain,” Benn assures him and then you are shuffled back down below deck, Mihawk following close behind the two of you. Once behind closed doors, Shanks pulls you to the bed where he snags your waistband and tugs your pants down, gently pushing you back on the bed after he drops them to the floor. You look at him with wide, desire-filled eyes, lip wrapped between your teeth in anticipation. 

You watch as Mihawk toes off his boots and coat before he climbs behind you on the bed, those golden eyes molten and heavy as he stares down at you. He pulls you further up the bed, your back resting against his chest as Shanks shuffles forward until your legs drape over his shoulders. You shiver when he smooths his hand up your exposed tight, leaning forward to press a kiss to your sensitive flesh, a smirk on his lips as he flicks his eyes up at you.

“Let me make you feel good, sweetheart. I saw that look in your eyes on deck. Didn't think you would like that kinda thing.” 

You flush and look away from Shanks, but a hand on your cheek turns you back to face the redhead. Mihawk strokes his thumb along your jaw, blunt nails gently scraping against your skin. 

“Well… it's new to me, too,” you mutter and feel their warlord chuckle behind you. 

“Nothing wrong with that, love. Red is quite striking when he wants to be,” Dracule rumbles and you give a distracted nod, eyes already eating up the way Shanks leans in to kiss up your thighs, tongue darting out to delve under the seam of your panties. He trails kisses up the fabric, humming when he notices the damp patch that only grows larger the longer he continues his teasing. 

Shanks slips his thumb under the elastic, tugging it lightly until you lift your hips and he can slip them off of you, and he grins when your cunt is finally exposed to him. You suck in a sharp breath when Mihawk gathers your arms and slides them up and around his neck, urging you to lock your fingers together. His hands delve under your shirt, one hand splaying over your stomach and the other cupping a swollen breast, fingers tweaking a peaked nipple. 

A soft curse falls from your lips at the touch, and you can't help but shift your hips, feeling greedy for the touch of both of your lovers after so long apart. You had tried once to pleasure yourself while they'd been gone, but you had gotten so frustrated when you couldn't because your touch wasn't near as good as theirs. You'd lain there, tears streaming down your face and stomach cramping with arousal for a long time, missing your boys. 

Your despondent thoughts are cut off when Shanks leans forward and licks between your folds, a gasp tearing from your throat and your eyes snapping down to watch the redhead. Shanks groans, eyes shuttering at finally being able to taste you again after so long. He licks up your cunt again, pushing forward to bury his face between your legs, lips kissing and sucks your folds and up to your clit until you are a whining mess. Your legs clench around his head, dragging Shanks even closer and he lifts his arm to wrap around your thigh, keeping you still when your hips jump. 

Mihawk watches with heavy eyes, his cock hard and aching in his pants. He wants to feel your cold hands wrap around his length, feel your mouth swallow him down until you're choking and teary eyed, but that would have to wait. Right now all of this was for you. You'd been alone so long, had become so spoiled from their touch and attention that you had to be pent up, and he wasn't wrong. You changed their names like a mantra, moans and huffs spilling from between your lips like the most lovely song. The warlord couldn't get enough. 

It doesn't take much more before you are wailing in their arms, pussy fluttering and coating Shanks’ face in slick as you come on his tongue. Your voice is rough, curses and hisses falling from your lips when Shanks snakes his hand between your legs, thumb dragging along your folds and pushing them apart so that he can drink you down like a man lost in the desert. He keeps going, tongue sliding through the cream that coats your folds and up to your clit when he gently teases the throbbing bud with the tip of his tongue. 

“Shanks- honey, please,” you whine and jerk your arms, but Mihawk keeps them pinned with ease, a mean smile on his lips as he leans forward to press them against your neck. 

“What's wrong, darling?” He coos softly, and pinches your nipple, delighted by the sound that you make, “Is it too much?” 

You jerk your head in a nod, lips raw from being bitten, head feeling heavy with endorphins as you try to weakly shift away from Shanks. The redhead isn't stopping though, not until he had his fill. 

He shifts his hand, his index finger circling your entrance before gently pressing inside and groaning at the soft heat that clenches around it. Shanks wants to bury his cock inside you and never leave, wants to feel you pulse and shiver around him while he fills you up with his seed. The sight of you rounded with their child already ignited a need so great that Shanks thought it might ruin him, and he thinks he would keep you this way if he could. 

Mihawk strokes his hand over your stomach, up to the other breast when he pinches and rolls both of your nipples between his fingers, mouth leaving behind open-mouth kisses along your neck. His voice is airy, full of want and devotion when he speaks. 

“You'll never send us away again, right, angel? We're everything that you will ever need, no one else will ever make you feel the way we do.” 

You nod wildly, eyes filling with tears as their touch doesn't let up. Your cunt feels over-sensitive and raw, folds puffy from Shanks’ stubble and the way he delves two of his fingers into you over and over. The pace is maddening, the feel of his tongue stroking your clit too much, the rough pads of Mihawk’s fingers on your nipples electrifying. 

“N-never again. Can't live without you,” you stumble through your words, vision going blurry as tears spill down your cheeks. You are overwhelmed with pleasure and the knowledge that you are surrounded by your boys, and it's seconds later that you come undone for the second time, clenching around Shanks’ fingers and coming with a tired whine. 

Mind blank, you feel yourself being released and then positioned to lay down on the bed, and then two warm bodies shifting to lay on either side of you in the too-small bed. You snuggle up to the closest chest, and Shanks snickers when you bury your face against him. Mihawk tosses his arm across both of you, hand on the redhead's hip and keeping you trapped between them. You feel content and jelly-legged for the first time in over a month, so relaxed that it doesn't take long for you to pass out with a sleepy I love you. 

The two men share a look over your head, and both quietly agree that after today, all of you deserve to have a good night's rest. They would wake tomorrow and see about getting into contact with Marco, but for now, they would rest with their treasure tucked secured between them.

@writingmysanity @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @anastasiyax @jaguarthecat @atricksterwithwings @black-swan-blog27 @breadedloafs @enpvrirnce @gottalovethefandom @mfreedomstuff @caniseethefourthsword @olenoname @glitterystarfishfestival

[pinkkop]

I've let my thoughts on Spare Me Your Mercy marinade a little in my brain and I'm now ready to try and put some words to my feelings about this show.

Overall I liked the show and I had a great time watching it. I thought the overall look was great and fit the theme and genre really well. Tor and JJ did really well and the whole cast was really just great.

It was just a really great attempt at more serious BL and it could have been amazing but it just fell short in some very important places.

I don't know if it would have fixed everything but a longer run-time would have done wonders because it would have given them more time to flesh out the plot and the relationships and fix any plot holes.

I'll go into the things I think were missing and my thoughts on them below.

The Missing Connection

A big part of what was missing from the show was more time spent on the relationship between Dr. Kan and Tew because the whole plot really relies on them developing feelings for each and that being a conflict in the murder investigation.

This interview with the screenwriter Lux that @clairedaring posted does make it seem like a longer screen time wouldn't have fixed this entirely since Lux spends a lot time making excuses about why they don't have NC scenes and how that would have detracted from the plot. I think this is absolutely ridiculous because the majority of BL fans would have been entirely happy with the amount of NC scenes we got if they'd just developed the relationship better and spent the right amount of time on the relationship to fit the plot and the emotions needed to make the plot land.

I'll give them the benefit of the doubt and believe that a longer run-time would have fixed it because otherwise I don't think Lux completely understands how important the relationship development, and any NC scenes needed or hinted at to make that believable, is for the plot.

Deceiving On Screen

A big problem with Dr. Kan and Tew's relationship and it's development on screen is that they were trying to deceive each other for a large part of the series. This makes it really hard to discern as a viewer when the characters are behaving or acting a certain way because of their ulterior motives or when they're doing so because of their actual feelings.

For the characters' real feelings to really come across on screen you need scenes where the characters are expressing their feelings in a situation where they don't need to keep up the ruse. This could be them alone reflecting on or reacting to the person, or conversations with people they are close enough with that they'll share some of their real feelings.

This is something that The Heart Killers has actually done a lot better than SMYM. Like Fadel's masturbation scene or the conversations between Fadel and Bison and between Kant and Style. They desperately needed more scenes like that in SMYM because it would have made it a lot clearer what Dr. Kan and Tew were thinking and feeling when it came to their relationship, because honestly, most of the time, I wasn't sure.

The Ending

I was very worried about the ending, especially towards the end, and it did end up frustrating me, but I think it weirdly fit the show because it was realistic, when Dr. Kan and Tew's relationship hadn't really been given a proper chance to develop or deepen.

Like with their surface level relationship(?) it makes sense that Tew would still try to arrest Dr. Kan even with all the reasons Dr. Kan gave for his actions.

It also helps that I understand the ending as being a little open. Like if you ask me, we never know for sure whether Tew actually brought Dr. Kan all the way to the station or not.

No matter what though it feels like a weird message to send after the show spent so much time advocating for euthanasia, but I guess they couldn't ignore that it's still illegal ... or something.

Again if they'd just spent more time developing the relationship and maybe even allowed Tew time to digest what Dr. Kan has been doing then it would have made more sense for Tew to not arrest Dr. Kan.

Like I would have even been happy for Tew to go back to Bangkok because he didn't want to arrest Dr. Kan but he still couldn't stay, knowing what Dr. Kan and Nurse Ohn were doing.

Then they could have given us a second season of Dr. Kan and Tew separately working towards making euthanasia legal in their own ways and then their ways could have crossed again and finally they would be in a place where they could be together!!

If I had any writing skills and the time I would be writing this canon divergence fic as we speak. Anyone's welcome to give it a go though!

Euthanasia

The one thing I think the show succeeded at, was showing exactly the good that euthanasia can do when it comes to terminally ill patients which also seems to be the most important point for Lux.

It felt like a weird side note though, when Dr. Kan euthanized Boss, and I've seen some people talk about how this feels like an ableist comment from the show. I don't necessarily believe that that's the case, I mostly just think this was another place where the show suffered from having only 8 episodes.

It makes sense that Boss had to die for plot reasons but I just wish they'd commented on it.

As I talked about in my previous post I think it was a risky choice to make to euthanize a disabled person without commenting on the act, especially since there's such a large difference between euthanizing a terminally ill patient and a disabled person.

With all this being said I still don't regret spending the time I did on following along with this show and posting about it. I had a good time doing so, I just hope that we can get a similarly more serious and crime related show in the future.

And in the mean time I just hope Petrichor the series turns out better.

[sports-on-sundays]

Hello!! I know the requests are closed, but when you can, could you write one about Pau Cubarsí having a girlfriend who races in the Formula 1 Academy or even other training categories. I really like your writing, it's very creative. Thanks!!

racer girl / Pau Cubarsí

Summary: Pau x Formula 1 Academy driver!girlfriend!reader - Pau is always there to cheer on his racing girlfriend.

Requested?: Yep! Thank you very much! Also, I really appreciate you saying my writing is creative; sometimes I don't feel like it is so I feel very encouraged to have someone say that! 😊

Author's Note: I didn't say it anywhere in here but it's basically implied that this is the reader's first race win!

After the best qualifying of your life, your entire body seems to be pumping with pure adrenaline, even long after you're out of the car and are now in the garage.

And if you thought things couldn't get any better, they do as soon as you feel your boyfriend's arms wrap around you from behind, and his proud voice exclaim, "Y/n! That was insane!"

You immediately start giggling and turn around to face him, saying with a little sigh as you use a towel to wipe a bit more of the sweat off your face, "I just don't know how I did it..."

Pau grins, saying softly, "I know how you did it."

You raise your eyebrows.

"An amazing driver like you isn't the kind to let a bad start set off your weekend." His smile softens a bit. "That's just one of the reasons why I feel so proud to call an amazing driver like that my girlfriend, too."

You grin, nodding, before settling down on one of the stools in the garage and saying with a little sigh, "It's just... this week has been so hard. With first, feeling sick at the beginning of the week, and then having two terrible free practice sessions... God, it's just been a lot."

Pau nods, gently resting his hand on your shoulder. "I know... But you were able to break through that. I'm so proud of you." He smiles, kissing the top of your head gently.

You let out a little sigh, glancing up to him. "Now let's just hope things go well for the rest of the weekend in the races."

He smiles. "I know you'll put your all into it. I believe in you." With that, he sits down by you in another chair in the garage, saying simply, "And just focus on the first race right now. After you win that one, then you can worry about the next one."

You smile softly, nodding a bit, though looking down at your hands clasped around your towel. "Yeah, you're right," you say with a little laugh. "One step at a time, right?"

He grins. "That's what you always seem to tell me when I'm too worried or too hard on myself in my sport. It goes the same for you, in yours."

"I guess, it's just... you know, you've been able to come this weekend. I'd hate to end this great start with some sort of terrible flunk."

"Oh, raise your eyes," he says gently, reaching over to place his hand on your shoulder again. "You'll do great. And I'll be proud of you whether you win both races or DNF both or anything in between. Because I'm impressed you do any of this at all. And I know that you put your everything into every single drive."

You smile softly, nodding. "Once again, you're right."

He nods, squeezing your shoulder. "Just as long as you're just as confident in yourself as I am in you, hm?"

Your soft smile shifts into a more determined grin as you nod, saying, "Oh, Pau, trust me."

And he just beams, exclaiming, "There you are! That's my racer girl!"

The moment Pau watches you spin out in the race, the first thing he feels is likely a much more dumbed-down devastation than what you must be feeling right now. And the next thing he feels is guilt.

Yesterday, he spent all that time reassuring you and telling you, essentially, you could and would win the race, and here you are, with your car in the barriers.

Before the race, you were so pumped, ready to do whatever it would take to stand on the top of the podium by the end of it and feel the pride swell within you to do so.

Now, as Pau watches you get out of the car, the emotion cuts in him to see your devastated figure walk off the track.

When you enter the garage with your helmet still on and your visor still down, Pau goes to you, trying to talk, or help, or something.

But you walk straight past him, ignoring his grab for your arm and even pushing him away a bit.

It has nothing to do with him. Of course you're not blaming him, or anywhere near being mad at him. You're mad at yourself, and the situation, and simply desperately need some time to cool off. Alone.

But Pau doesn't know that, and sits around with his head aching and his heart pounding for the longest time, in worry for you and regret for whatever he thinks he's accidentally done wrong.

After much too long for Pau's liking, though, you come wandering to find him, and as soon as you do, you say, your voice still tender, "Hey, Pau..."

"Listen, I'm sorry-"

But you look at him with such a look of shock and confusion that he stops talking mid-sentence. "What on earth have you got to be sorry for? You didn't do anything wrong! It was me who pushed you away without explaining!"

"O- Oh," your boyfriend says softly as he realises, quite honestly, just how extremely stuck in his own head he was. "Y/n, you don't have to worry about that..."

"I should have explained I just needed some time alone. I'm sorry."

His eyes grow more tender. "Hey. It's okay. I understand it completely."

You sigh, nodding, looking down. And somehow, seeing that crestfallen expression all over your face, Pau can't help but pull you into his arms.

You sigh again, deeper. "I screwed it up. One of my best chances of the entire season for a win, probably."

"Y/n, it happens. And the only thing that's going to keep that as your one and only best chance is the mindset that it was. This is only the beginning of the season. You have plenty more races and weekends to go to prove that different, including the race tomorrow."

You sniff. "I guess I've just had such rotten luck all week, and I thought maybe things were actually about to look good for me, and get better, but it just turns out in the end it all got screwed over anyway."

He sighs, stroking your hair. "I know. I know."

He holds you in his arms for a while in silence, just like you do with him after a tough football match, until you've had some more time to think and let the cut scab over, and he says gently, rubbing your back, "There's always tomorrow. And after that, there's always the next race week. I know it's a big bump in the road, and I know it will be tough, but I also know you're an overcomer, right?"

You nod slowly. "Yeah... I know. I know you're right."

He kisses your scalp before saying into your hair, "I want you to know, I'm proud of you. This happened, and it's tough, but you're dealing with it really well. And I'll be proud of you again when you get a better result tomorrow."

"But what if I don't?"

"We both know you can't entertain thoughts like that. I know you can, and you know it too. If I can have so much faith in you, don't you ought to have just as much, if not more, faith in yourself, in order to succeed?"

You sigh shakily, leaning away from him, your back strengthening. "I've got to leave the past in the past and press on to tomorrow. You're right." You stand up, and he understands you have to go now, for your other duties with the team. But it's then that you add, "Just as long as we can cuddle tonight, to help me feel ready for tomorrow?"

Pau beams like a boy on Christmas morning. "Of course, Y/n. And I can't wait for that, too."

After waking up this morning in Pau's arms and having him deliver a caring, gentle pep talk in the sweetest of tones before your freezing cold shower, you felt ready for this day. Ready to conquer it, ready to win. Ready to prove to yourself you can do it, because at this point, to you, whatever anyone else thinks really doesn't matter at all.

But of course right now, that is the very last thing on your mind. In fact, you have absolutely nothing on your mind right now.

Because a strange phenomenon that you've found, at least with yourself, that is, is that when you're feeling such an incredible amount of intense emotion, which it be good or bad, or even a mix, there comes a point when there's so much of it that there's absolutely no space left in your head to even think thoughts, and instead, at least in the case of this situation, the only proper reaction you can find in response to what you're feeling is to turn on your radio and squeal at the top of your lungs into it in your car as you fly past the chequered flag before every single other car on the track.

Because you have just won the race.

It's absolutely unbelievable, that for some reason, there, in the car, you begin to cry, just a little. Maybe just a few stray tears.

But the most glorious part of it is that when you thought you couldn't do it, in the end, you did. You did it for yourself, to yourself, and proved your negative thoughts and misfortune throughout the week to be completely, utterly wrong.

And as you make your way to the top step and stand on it proudly, you're soaring, and you're absolutely positive that this simply must be the best moment of it all.

But then you think that all the hugs and congratulations from everyone around who supports you no matter what must be the best part of it.

But you're only met with truly the best part of it all when your eyes set upon the adoring eyes of your boyfriend. It's then that you fly, that your pounding heart truly swells with the pride, the realization, the glory of it all.

And then his strong arms envelop you, and he kisses you all over and says so many lovely, perfect, amazing things to you, but somehow, it's one phrase that really sticks with you in the end:

"See what happens when you simply believe? Why, Y/n, it's then that we have the strength to move mountains."

[alexanderwales]

I've started playing Persona 5 Royal, my first Persona game, because it was ridiculously cheap on Steam. Back when I had GamePass, I installed it but never played past the opening, which I think is a bit weak. I'm about 20 hours in, through the first two palaces, and I'm not sure that my opinion is going to change too much, but I'm registering it now just in case (with some spoilers for the first fourth of the game):

I think having a division between the physical world and the mental world, which is physically represented, is super cool. I used it in Dark Wizard of Donkerk, and am overdue for using it in something else. Psychonauts did it too. Inside Out as well. I will always love this concept.

I don't think I like the gameplay. The last major JRPG I played was Final Fantasy VII Remake, and I thought the same there, so ... I don't know, maybe just a whole genre that I don't have that much of a taste for. It's mostly the random inventory items and pointless mob fights that I'm frowning at.

Severe lack of harmony between the battle stuff and the story. The mob fights have fuck all to do with infiltrating someone's mind. There's stupid elemental shit. The mob designs are interesting but mostly disconnected from each other and any theme.

So far, the psyche stuff has been surprisingly shallow, given that it's the main focus of the game. First palace was a gym teacher (Kamoshida) who's abusing students (physically and sexually), and sees the high school as his castle, but ... I don't know. I wanted more. We're literally walking around inside a character's mind, why is the character study so shallow? He should have layers, like an onion, each more horrible than the last. Kawakami is the other teacher we know best at the start, and there's no sense of how he views her, whether she's a sex object to him, or a non-entity, or someone he's worried about, or what, and I kept expecting that narrative beat to happen. I don't know, I think my fanfic would just radically change the entire palace concept so we get ten times the interplay between real world and mental world, and so we can turn these characters inside out and see all their gross bits.

I wish that Joker spoke more often. He's not really a blank slate protagonist, but there's very little personality there, as much as I'm trying, and that means that other characters are driving the plot and scenes and in general being more interesting than him. This is just a matter of personal preference, and a place where I definitely depart from what the average JRPG enjoyer likes.

I generally enjoy the slice-of-life elements, and to a lesser extent, the time management, though there's a part of me that's just screaming that I should be looking at a guide to maximize values. And if I do that, I'll no longer be playing the game, I'll just be watching scenes and doing inputs. I am definitely not playing this game twice, so if there's a difference in endings, or a big chunk of content I might miss, so be it.

It's relatively low on the anime shit that I hate, though there's still plenty of time for me to be disappointed. The way they're handling Ann is ... kind of not great. She was sexually harassed and then immediately after they have this whole "nude modeling" plot that's played for laughs and titillation, and it's possibly just a me problem here (avoiding spoilers for now), but "girl who was leered at and sexually pressured by her gym teacher being then jokingly pressured by her friends to do sexual stuff she's uncomfortable with" is ... not how I would write it. (The answer to "how I would write Ann" would certainly be pretty long, and I haven't finished the game yet, so maybe it gets better, or gets given more meat in the hangouts or whatever.)

There's still time, but I sort of assume that we're just never going to go into the minds of the protagonists, which is a shame. Tons of possibilities there, and I think if they were going to explore any of them, they would have done it by now. I guess I feel the palaces are underdeveloped enough that I probably wouldn't be satisfied by how they treat the protagonists anyway, but it's what I would have done. Let me see a physical manifestation of how Ryugi feels about his alcoholic father. Let me see Joker's defiance. Let me see Ann's self-image. Show me links between these characters, the differences in how they see the social web.

The frame story for the game is an interrogation by the cops, and I am not a fan. Half the time they're just yanking me out of the story I was in the middle of to signpost "hey, this guy is important". Possibly this will all payoff later in some interesting way, like halfway through the game we reach the "present" and the frame breaks. I usually like that. I've had thoughts on the interesting ways the frame story could be used, and so far they haven't used it in those ways. (Also, there's a bit of weirdness where ... I am pretty sure that I was fighting shadows and using powers outside the Metaverse? Unless the interrogation is actually taking place within the Metaverse. Unsure whether I can register a prediction on this basis, or if there are just more mechanics/wrinkles later on. So far, the interrogation taking place within someone's Palace doesn't seem like it would comport with the rules/expectations that have been set up, but there's still time. I'd prefer not being spoiled if there is a clever payoff or twist.)

This game is apparently 100 hours long, which means it's going to take me forever to finish it. I am enjoying it in spite of any quibbles above, but I'm also feeling like it's only 80% of the game that I want it to be, partly down to execution and partly down to personal preference.

[the-meme-monarch]

Hello, very big fan of the work you do and the art you make. Given the release of the recent dandy's world animatic, I'm curious! What are your HC's for the handlers? All of their designs are unique and well thought out enough I figure they must have some information behind them. -Despairing because I wish I had the confidence to make an animatic that good, from StarSailor.

hm ! I don’t think I really have many, i kinda just saw their in-game models and thought ‘1 those uniforms are atrocious, 2 lets get you some ears” i did change austin(astro’s handler)’s hair to be A Little More Cool I Guess. it’s kind of a side shave :] other than that just kinda giving them a little more varied body types

but as for Actual Headcanons I’ve got:

shanon(shelly’s handler) is shelly’s hypeman honestly. would tell the kids on tours how cool and smart shelly is and Don’t You Want Her Autograph Or To See Her Themed Room? There’s Bones In There ! bc "everyone forgets about shelly" hurts my heart. not her handler Please

veronica(vee's handler) seems a bit nervous about getting attention, going off of her portrait, so inversely i like to think vee is Her hypeman :]

devan(dandy & pebble’s handler) does weightlifting :] he’s fat and also jacked. i think itd be funny he was allergic to dogs. good thing pebble is a toon rock that just Acts like a dog. wait actually would it be funnier if pebble Still set off his allergies

sam(sprout’s handler) acted about like how sprout acts Now. sprout is coping with the situation by acting like them, just kind of distant/aloof and maybe a little irritable. also this Isnt a headcanon but sam canonically uses they/them that makes me happy and i just wanted to mention

its a little funny i dint think i have anything for austin but from the sounds of it he's the creator's favorite Of the handlers. hopeful to learn more abt him and the rest of them !

their portraits in the animatic are Of Course redraws of their in-game ones, but they’re technically redraws of the redraws i did of them originally ⬇️! i thought it felt off that 3/5 of the handlers didn’t look happy to have their picture taken, and with them all being in the same place like it was Planned and Set Up and everything didn’t seem right. like this is your job these are gonna be big ass pictures put on the wall lighten up a little HDHDHDH so the redraws i made it more as "this was kinda just jumped on them" like someone came up with a camera while they were on duty and said "smile!" and they generally didnt have time to react properly. little did they realize these were going to be made into big ass pictures and put on the wall

as for Other Handlers that we Dont know about yet Assuming There Are More, my sibling and i are thinking that Not Every Toon Has A Designated Handler. like it’s more than just the five as seen here but (from here idk their thoughts and dont speak for them) but so like i figure the mains get their own but the rest there's maybe 1 handler for every 3-4 toons, and they dont look after anyone specifically. just Someone has to be watching them it doesn't matter who. but like with cosmo and sprout always hanging out together its probably Just Sam supervising. they always have to remind the two to turn off the oven

[faghubby]

New Years Party

"I don't care, I am tired of everyone thinking I am a cheating bitch" Lynn told me. She had informed me she had invited Brent to our New Year Eve party. Brent was the guy she had been cuckolding me with for the past 15 months. It had started when I confessed that I wanted to see her get fucked by a well hung man for my birthday. After some discussion she made it happen. I watched as some guy she met online fucked her silly with a thick 8 inch cock. After that she was hooked. Although I didn't get to watch. Sometimes I got a video or Pic. But she was much more comfortable with me not there.

Then she met Brent. He was a nice guy. We had even taken him with us on our vacation to Mexico a few months ago. I got to watch Lynn take all 9 inches of his cock down her throat. They also let me watch as Brent fucked her up against a building as people walked by. It was all sex between them. After she would come to me to cuddle and be held. We had not had sex since the very first time she cucked me. Almost 2 years ago. I settled for a handjobs. On my birthday and anniversary. Occasionally another thrown in. Mostly she liked when I took care of it myself as she cuddled with me. Or jumped her leg as I licked her pussy. We had played with me eating my own cum. Lynn told me I could if I wanted to. But she didn't care either way. As for cream pies they always used a condom.

But even as discreet as we tried go be, people had seen Lynn out with Brent. My mother pulled me aside on Christmas to tell me Lynn was having an affair.

"Lynn please they won't understand" I pleaded.

"So I am the freak. You are the one who wanted me to find a lover" Lynn spat. I was rock hard at the thought of being exposed but at the same time terrified. Everyone we knew would be at the party. Maybe it would be okay, I could explain they where just good friends.

Lynn went to see Brent that very night. I masterbated to the thought of being exposed in front of everyone. Lynn came home with a wierd look on her face. I was already in bed reading.

"I did something" she smirked. She pulled up her skirt and her panties where soaked. "We didn't use a condom. She climbed on top of me she hovered herself right above my head.

"What do you think?" She asked I grabbed her and pulled her to me I sucked and licked her dirty panties. She lifted herself again and I tore her panties off. She dropped and let me clean Brent's from her. I was humping the air as I did. I couldn't get enough. Even after I had gotten all of Brent's spank out of her I didn't stop. Until she came three times.

"OH my god I am never using a condom again" she gasped catching her breath. "You didn't tell me you loved cum so much" she laughed as my dick bobbed in the air still. She grabbed my dick and stroked me. It only took a few strokes and I exploded. She caught some and had me lick her hand.

"It's all stuck in your hair. Maybe you should shave it so next time you can eat it all" Lynn told me. Getting up to get ready for bed. I was still up when she returned.

"Paul would you eat Brent's sperm out of my ass as well?" She asked.

I had not even know she had let Brent have her ass. She had never let me.

"I guess if you" I said meekly.

"Really, Brent loves taking me anally. Just thought you say no" she laughed. "Guess have to buy some edible lube then" then turned out the light.

In the shower the next morning I shaved my pubic hair off. When I came out Lynn noticed.

"Is there any other things you like to try, and are afraid to tell me?" Lynn asked. She was being very understanding she truly wanted to know. I just shook my head no.

"Are you sure, would you like me to play with your ass?" She smirked. I turned and looked at her. "Would you like to suck Brent's big cock?" She asked. "Maybe wear some of my things, panties prehaps?" I just shook my head. But made me think. Lynn didn't push it just kissed me good morning and went to make breakfast.

We had alot of work to do to get set up for the party tonight. Andy, Lynns sister and her husband Tom came over to help. I knew Lynn had told Andy everything. So I wasn't surprised when I walked in to them whispering about me eating Brent's cum.

"Welcome to the club" Andy smiled. "Should reconsider some nice soft panties" she laughed. I looked around panicked wondering where Tom was. Andy saw my nervousness "Don't worry I don't keep secrets from Tom" she smirked as I went pale. Who else knew?

I spent the rest of the day wondering what Tom thought about me. As usual my Mom arrived early. She gave Lynn the cold shoulder. I was busy playing host when Brent arrived it was about 11. Lynn ran over and gave him a big long kiss. Making several people stop and take notice. Lynn then lead him around the room introducing him to everyone as her lover. My mother rushed over to me.

"Stop her, the tramp is airing all your dirty laundry" my mother told me. Before I could respond Lynn walked up to us.

"Mary, I like you to meet the man your son begs me to sleep with" she leaned in and whispered something in my mother's ear. My mother excepted Brent's hand.

"Lynn I owe you an apology" my mother told her.

"Nonsense, anyone would of thought the same thing" Lynn told her. They all ignored me.

"I wonder if I should of had him talk to someone as a child when I caught him trying on my things" my mother whispered. I blushed as Lynn's eyes lit up.

"More secrets?" She smiled and shuffled off with Brent.

"Come with me" my mother ushered me upstairs. "You should of told me you couldn't satisfy Lynn. Did you think I wouldn't understand that" my mother told me. "Well now everyone knows so no more misunderstandings"

"I am sorry mom, I just" I almost started to cry.

"Brent seems like a very capable handsome man. So no worry about me getting any grandchildren" she told me. And went back downstairs. I was stunned my mother not only was okay with this she wanted grandkids from Brent? Before I could get myself together and head back downstairs. Andy barged in.

"Where is Lynn's panty drawer?" She asked me. Surprised I just pointed to the closet. She grabbed my hand.

"Pick one out?" She told me.

"For what?" I asked

"To wear, silly." She told me.

"Andy I am not wearing panties" I told her. She shoved her hand down my pants.

"When was the last time she touched you?" I was rock hard as my sister in law held my dick. "It's not very big. And feels like my finger is fatter then it. Lynn didn't tell me you shaved" she laughed.

"Pick out a pair" she smiled. I picked out a pair of black satin ones I loved when Lynn wore them. Andy pulled my pants and underwear down. She watched as I changed into Lynn's panties. She then lifted her skirt. And pushed my head to her crotch.

"Do you like my panties?" She asked. I licked her panties.

"Stop that, I am your sister in law. And I have a very satisfying husband" she told me.

"Should I make you go back downstairs or wait here till midnight. I think wait here for Lynn wearing just her panties. I locked the door after Andy left and sat there listening to the party. Hearing the countdown. Then a knock on the door.

"Paul, it's Lynn" I unlocked the door. Lynn quickly closed it behind her. She kissed me.

"I missed you for the kiss" she told me stepping back to admire me in her panties.

"Paul, you can wear my things any time you like. Or we could get you your own that fit better." She assured me. "Now Brent is spending the night. So you can sleep in the spare room." She told me. "I think Fran and Jack are staying over a bit to much to drink" she rubbed me thru the panties. "I want you to not play with this. Until you see me again in the morning. I will wake you up full of Brent's cum." She told me.

"Now I know you licked Andy, so as punishment I want you to kneel right here" I knelt down and Brent walked in.

"Lick his big cock" Lynn told me. I panicked as Brent pulled his cock out. "Shh you don't have to suck it just give it a kiss" she told me. I leaned in and gave it a peck. Lynn looked at me disappointed so I leaned in again and licked it from the base to the head and kissed the tip. I stood up.

"Thank you for all the pleasure you bring my wife" I said to Brent then rushed to the spare bedroom just wearing the satin panties. Between the drinking and stress I fell asleep immediately. I woke to the sun shinning in the room as Lynn climbed on the small twin bed. And lowered herself to my eagerly waiting tounge.

"Everyone knows now baby, so no need to hide anything anymore" Lynn told me as she spun around I continued to orally please her she teased me thru the satin panties.

"Maybe you like to clean Brent's big cock next time too" she told me as I made a mess in the black satin panties.

[high-qualitymoron]

Deep Space Discounts trailer breakdown? i guess?

In celebration of episode 1 releasing next week! (can you believe it guys? dsd, just a week away! /reference) it’s really just my thoughts on stuff in order it appears. but there are quite a few thoughts so Long Post Warning!!

‘congratulations!’ from previous video, 'deepblueink gets blackmailed.' idk how i didnt notice that sooner lol

I assumed deedee's head was a robot head and they're a robot, but i also noticed that it has what seems like an opening around the neck, so it might be a helmet of some sort. idk

INCARCERATION ALTERNATIVE PROGRAM in all caps, obviously significant. i also have the thought that what if this is in universe. because i think it'd be funny

the scribbly thought bubble. deepblueink moment

deedee looks at camera when thought bubble says deep space discounts. idk if that’s important or anything but i noticed it!

Deedee is so suspicious. they are most definitely evil. However. they are also wearing a uniform. different than the others but still with the glowing armband which i assume is significant. So like, maybe they just work here too and have weird vibes?

walking scene. they all have different walks which show their personalities well and. augh i love the animation dbi did so good

shoutout to gub's arms moving more smoothly/wiggly-ly (??? in a wiggling manner) instead of normally like everyone else. because slime man

multiple shots of immy being stressed and doing weird stuff. idk what to say about this

another shot of the team walking, this time dancing! again, they all do it differently, with much personality! (except immy who is just walking normally/stressed)

but also where is clayre in the dance scene. i’m worried about them. and also who is this robot guy???

shots of characters doing stuff

clayre throws some guy across the room (good for them), gub is on drugs i think??, vee gets some sort of message from deedee and is sad after, and immy looks into space

voice actor reveals! if only i knew voice actors lol. anyway im going over all of them with the note 'its interesting that this is what they those to define the character'

immy is holding some kinda critter i think? we'll see them again later. vee is also there

vee is in... bed? to me it looks like they're lying down in bed with how they grip the thing in front of them, but its probably not. idk what it is

deedee talking to camera. guy (mannequin?) in front of deedee has 'i <3 dsd' shirt on. probably something they sell?

honestly idk what kip is doing. some weird hand motion

gub looks like they're whining about being told to do something. based on surroundings probably cleaning the bathrooms?

clayre is about to throw something again i think. they like to do that it seems

i was saying that deedee has a uniform and armband so i think they're less suspicious. yknow who doesn’t have a uniform or (visible) armband? xancis. they are also no where else in the trailer, and all they do is turn towards the camera. even more obviously evil than deedee

immy holding the weird creature-thing again. it moves a bit and others in the background have reactions. clayre and vee look pretty happy, but kip and gub seem upset

another walking loop, not on screen long enough for me to tell if it's the same one, and deedee winks at the camera

the end!

thanks for reading so much, and also sorry. my phone wasn't loading anything else one day and a whole class period with nothing to do but watch this on loop may have driven me a bit insane (positive). also um does anyone know these character's pronouns. do we have that officially anywhere? because i dont want to assume

[nineteenninety-six]

Hi! I’m not sure if you write for the pesky blondes anymore but I loved all your word with them! Could you do one with daughter reader, who tries really hard at school or a sport (like comporting or winning lots of medals) to impress Tommy who is distant with her but end up giving up after a while because he doesn’t pay attention to it? And he only notices because Polly or another family member asks about and she goes “oh, I dropped it.” And they realize why and confront Tommy about it? It can end however you want otherwise, thank you!

AN: Hi, omg can you believe it's been almost 2 years since I last posted something and I have tried to write over the last couple years but I struggled. Anyway, hopefully this is good and you like it as it's been forever since I wrote and it's probably ooc since I haven't watched PB in forever either.

Born years before the war to a mother that died shortly after, and her father sent away to the war when she was still a child, YN’s relationship with her father was almost non-existent. She was too young to have any memories of him before he left and when he returned, he wasn’t the same man, a shell of his former self.

She had been mostly raised by her Aunt Polly even after her father and uncles return from the war and her father had his moments of trying to be involved with her life but those moments never lasted long, usually inspired by some near death moment that reminded him of the preciousness of life before he pulled himself into some other sort of all encompassing drama that had him disappearing from her life for months on end.

YN was eager for her fathers acknowledgment, not even approval but the mere recognition of her existence and so she decided to try and prove herself to him, to show how smart and what a good daughter she was.

Things changed when Charlie was born and her father married Grace but once again that didn’t last once Grace died as her father disappeared once again and she was left at Arrow House with her baby brother and the house staff and so she focused on helping the staff with Charlie and studying hard at school, getting some of the highest grades in her year but even that did not capture the attention of her father and so she tried something else.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

“Horseback riding?” Her father glanced up at her from his seat behind his grand desk in his office.

“They offer it to year ten and I thought…” YN nodded, referencing the expensive elite private school that her father sends her to.

Her father pursed his lips and sighed, “You have more than one bloody horse out there…”

YN glanced out of her window to the vast paddocks and fields that surrounded Arrow House before turning her focus back to her father, “It’s not the same father. You rarely allow me to take Sweetcorn or Biscuit out for rides and you certainly don’t allow me to have a hand in their care but at school I’ll learn how to ride and compete with them along with taking care of them”

Her fathers gaze was heavy but she did not buckle under its weight.

”And what about your other classes? Tennis, ballet, swimming, golf…”

YN paused at the mention of the extra classes she was participating in, not even realizing her father knew but she guessed that since he was paying for everything he had to.

“Well, I’ve been managing with my classes so far, what’s one more” YN shrugged, shooting her father almost a sheepish smile

Tommy watched her for a few more moments before he sighed and signed her permission slip before holding it out for her, “If this is what you wish”

YN grabs the slip with a thankful smile, hoping that this is what will hopefully get her father to become more involved in her life.

”Thank you, father”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

YN scanned the crowds looking for her father, her eyes darting from left to right, eyes peeled wide open as if it would help her find the brooding brummie but to no avail, but she did see her younger brother, her aunt and her uncles all cheering from her in the stands not far her and while she smiled and waved back at them her heart sunk at the non-appearance of her father.

Here she was at a national competition, competing against the best in the country, yet her father was nowhere to be seen. A whole year of hard practice, six days a week along with juggling her other sports and school, to try and impress her father and he hadn’t even bothered to show his face.

Feeling eyes on her, YN looked around and found her aunts scrutinising eyes on her and so not to arouse suspicion, YN swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth and sent her aunt a smile that she was sure that the older woman did not believe for a single moment, before turning around and heading to her stall where her trainer was waiting for her.

Two hours later and still no sign of her father, YN stood at the top of the podium with her trophy in one hand, bouquet in the other and a grin forced on her face after she won and she kept her eyes on her younger brother, on his bright smile and loud cheers and not on the space that should contain their absent father.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Christmas Day at Arrow House was always a grand event with all of YN’s uncles, aunts and cousins travelling to Warwickshire on Christmas Eve to start their annual celebration and though YN was quite a bit older than her cousins, she enjoyed spending time with them anyway.

The whole family sat around the large table in the dining room, everybody talking over each other and YN was brought out of conversation with her aunt Ada by her aunt Polly asking a seemingly innocent question.

”YN, when is your next ballet recital? The last one was a joy to watch.”

YN took a nervous sip of her water before she answered, “Oh, I um stopped ballet.”

Polly look at her in surprise as Esme chimed in,

“Oh with all the extracurriculars you do I’m surprised you managed to keep up with everything at once”

“I dropped those too…I’ve dropped all my sports.” YN murmurs, “Figured it’s best to focus on school and my studies only”

All of the adults at the table had overheard what she had said and were in an uproar. It was well known how much YN loved her sports and competing, so to hear that she was suddenly quitting made no sense.

”Whaddya mean 'quitting'?!" Arthur asked, his voice carrying loudly.

”Well good exam results will take me to university, so I’ve decided to focus on that only” YN tried to explain.

”You’ve never had any problems with balancing it before, why now?” Polly asked.

YN’s eyes flicker up to her fathers face, no-one catching it other than her aunt Polly.

”Classes are getting harder”

That’s all YN had to say before she changed the conversation topic to something other than her.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Polly made her way into Tommy’s late into the night that evening, knowing the man barely slept and would be up and in his office.

“Are you planning on talking to your daughter?” Polly asked as she settled in the seat opposite her nephew.

Tommy raised a curious eyebrow as he poured his aunt a glass of whiskey and passed it over to her, “About?”

“Quitting all of her sports…?”

”Yeah well you heard her, she wants to focus on school”

Polly huffs a disbelieving sigh, disappointed in Tommy,

”When was the last time you saw that girl struggling with her workload hmm? Not to mention the countless amount of times she’s helped out with Charlie on top of everything else she does”

Tommy paused at her words, realising that he hasn’t really paid YN any attention recently.

“When was the last time you even went to one of her shows, competitions or award shows hm?” Polly drilled him, “This girl of yours is amazing and you’re ignoring her Tommy”

“I’m not ignoring her!” Tommy became defensive, “She almost an adult, she can do what she wants”

”Don’t you see it?!” Polly’s patience wears thin as she snaps at her nephew, “You barely spent any time with her when she was a mere child and still now you don’t! You hardly know the girl while she’s stretching herself thin trying to prove herself and you don’t even pay her enough attention to realise!”

Tommy was left speechless at the rightful telling off he had received as after all, Polly was correct.

Tommy barely spent time with YN when she was younger and as the years went by he spent even less. Stilted conversations over dinner was their relationship and he had no one but himself to blame.

“I-I didn’t…” Tommy stumbled over his words as he tried to settle the thousands of thoughts that were racing through his mind, “I didn’t think to…”

Polly stood up and faced her nephew, “This is your last chance. After tonight, the door that she has kept open for many years will be closed and locked with the key thrown away. You have one chance Tommy, do not squander it.”

With that, Polly left Tommy’s office, hoping that her words spurred him into action.

Tommy didn’t wait long before he was speeding out of his office and darting upstairs to his daughters room hoping and praying that she was still awake and when he knocked on her door and she called him in, the slightest of weights was lifted off of his shoulders.

“It’s me,” He announced, poking his head past her door.

Surprise flashed over YN’s face as his appearance as she beckoned him in, sitting up straighter as she placed the book she was reading to the side.

“Is something wrong?”

“I wanted to speak about what happened at dinner” Tommy took a seat on the edge of YN’s bed, “About you dropping your extra classes”

“It’s nothing” YN tried to dismiss it. “Just thought I should focus on school more so I can get into a good university, that's all”

“YN, you’re the smartest person I know” For the first time in a long time, Tommy spoke to YN one to one, in hopes that this conversation will be the first step in repairing their relationship, “Not only that but you are the most talented and hardworking person I know.”

YN paused for a moment after he finished before she spoke up, “Yet you never attended an award ceremony or performance or competing…how am I meant to know how you feel? …I did all of this to get a sliver of your attention, always hoping that one, just one of the many things I laden myself with would finally be the thing that’ll make you pay attention to me and you can’t even be bothered to show when it matters”

“I know nothing I can say to fix what I have done but all I ask for is one more chance and most of all, don’t give up on the things you love, not for me, not for anyone. Ever.”

Tommy knew words would not mend the hurt he has caused his daughter over the years but he hoped that she would give him this one last chance to fix it through his actions and behaviour.

YN takes a deep breath and nods, “One last chance”

[a-court-of-lust-and-stardust]

Love on Ice Chapter 21: The Confessions

I’d say this is the chapter everyone has been waiting for 🥰

13 Days until Competition

Elain’s head had never been more…clear. As she strolled through the ice rink with an air of serenity she’d never had the pleasure of experiencing, her body finally felt light, weightless. Almost as if she were floating. 

It’d been a few days since the night in with her sisters, and since she’d last seen Azriel. Elain had used those days to skate alone, make cookies, journal, and simply…be. It was the most free she’d ever felt. 

The sound of a stick on ice broke her from her thoughts, and there he was, completely lost in his element. Azriel was covered head to toe in his black and purple equipment, although she knew his late night practice had ended more than thirty minutes ago. 

From the side of the rink, Elain settled her back into the glass and permitted herself this one moment to admire him while he was distracted. To reflect on their friendship and budding romance, because they had gotten to that point. To remind herself that yes, she wanted him, and wanted him longer than she was ready to admit, and that was okay. To assert that she was done running from her feelings and done letting a dead woman’s unattainable expectations control her.  

Azriel noticed her a minute later, peeling off his helmet and tossing it to the side, face framed by damp black waves. His smile, that slightly chipped, adoring smile, would never fail to send her heart soaring. “Hi, Elain.” 

Elain gracefully skated toward him, stopping just a few inches from his chest. She glanced up at him, nuzzling her cheek into his palm when he delicately brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hi, Az.” 

“I haven’t seen you in a few days,” Azriel noted, lip pulled between his teeth. “Are you okay?” 

Always wondering and worrying about her. This beautiful, attentive, selfless man. How lucky she was to know him. To have him. 

Elain nodded, taking his hand to lace their fingers together. “I’m okay. More than okay, actually. After I spent the night with my sisters, I did a lot of…soul searching. Or reflecting, I guess.” She ran her thumb over his knuckles, mirroring all the times he’d done it to her. It’d been surprisingly soothing, and Elain hoped she could provide him with the same comfort. “I don’t know if I’ve ever truly thanked you.” 

Azriel swallowed thickly, nothing but unrestrained adoration in his hazel eyes as he whispered, “For what, sweetheart?” 

“From the start, you believed in me. More than anyone ever has. You never let me falter, never pushed me to the point where I broke. You’ve always looked at me like I’m worth something, treated me like it, too.” Elain inhaled sharply, ignoring the pesky tears that made their escape from her eyes. “And for someone who spent her life believing she was worthless…the way you speak about me…the way you think about me and look at me…means everything. So thank you. For being the only person to ever truly see me.” 

Their sighs mingled together as Azriel pulled her into his chest, cheek pressed against the top of her head. Elain squeezed his middle tightly, which was difficult due to his hockey gear, but it didn’t matter so long as she was tucked away in his arms. Right where she preferred, right where she belonged. 

“You’re perfect, Elain,” Azriel murmured, dusting a kiss on her brow. “And you’ve always been worth it. You will always be worth it."

Her heart squeezed as she pulled back and asked, “Are you okay?” 

Azriel nodded and forced a smile, but Elain was well aware of the tension between his brows, in his jaw. She itched to smooth those lines from his skin. “I’ve been doing some..brooding over the last day or so.” 

“Is that why you stayed after practice tonight?” Elain snickered, swatting his gloved hands that dove to lovingly pinch her hips. “To blow off steam?” 

“I did,” He affirmed, looking between the hockey net, the lone puck, and Elain. “Would you like to see how?” 

She nodded enthusiastically, eager to acquaint herself with his world, his talent. 

Azriel skated off the ice momentarily, fetching a few spare supplies from the locker room. He emerged back on the ice with a bucket of black pucks and a smaller stick. Grinning, he handed Elain the stick and dumped the pucks on the ice, watching as they slid in every direction. 

“What are we doing?” She asked through a laugh, round eyes bright. 

“Watch,” He instructured with a smirk, gathering a puck on his stick as he positioned himself at the blue line. And maybe he used this opportunity to show off his skills, flipping the puck in the air a handful of times and catching it on the blade before shooting it in the net with lightning speed. It soared into the back of the net with ease. 

Elain blinked. “You want me to do that ?”

“No. That skill is for day two,” He joked lightheartedly, nudging a puck toward her. She stopped it with the toe of her skate. “Today, you can just shoot the puck.” 

She frowned, glancing between the stick and Azriel’s face. “How do you hold it properly?” 

Truth be told, he could have verbally instructed her. It would’ve been easy to tell her how to grip the stick and walk her through the steps, but his fingers were aching to slide over any part of her body. A body he hadn’t seen or felt in days. 

“May I?” He skated behind her, waiting for permission to touch. When she agreed, he positioned her hands along the shaft of the stick, not too close or spread apart. He assisted her in taking a few practice shots, rough hands guiding soft ones or dancing over her waist to help position her stance. This close, he could smell her shampoo or perfume, the combination of vanilla and something distinctly floral dizzying. He fought off the urge to nuzzle his nose in the crook of her neck or run his tongue along the side of her throat in that primal, claiming way he’d only ever felt around her.

“I want you to channel everything into that puck,” he whispered, lips ghosting over the shell of her ear. He heard her swallow. “Every time someone doubted you. Every time someone made you feel like you weren’t good enough. Each and every time you felt angry, hurt, heartbroken, pressured, used. Think of it all, and shoot. that. puck.” 

He skated back, watching Elain’s jaw clench as she recalled some of her worst memories. Sharp eyes zeroed in on the puck, and with a crack, she sent it spiraling across the ice, sliding right into the net. 

She yelped joyously, head snapping toward Azriel with a proud grin stretched across her cheeks. He clapped, posture easy as he leaned against the boards. 

“Az, did you see that?” 

“I did El,” he said softly, angling his head toward the spare pucks. “I’m impressed. Try it again.” 

And again she did. 

Over and over, she set up pucks and shot them. Some went terribly wide, some dinged off the posts and ricocheted off the crossbar, but many found their way buried into the back of the net. Each time she missed, she’d pout. Every time a puck touched the net, she’d grin or laugh or dance. 

Her elation was infectious. Her shoulders were weightless, and there was no sign of tension straining her face. She needed this. Time to be silly and carefree without worry. Azriel was glad he could give this to her.

“Think the Ice Warriors will let me take your spot?” Elain quipped, eyes full of mischief as she twirled the stick.

He snickered, pushing off the boards to retrieve the pucks from the net. “With the way I practiced, they very well might.”

Elain dug the toe of her hockey stick into the ice, balancing her arms on the end. “Can you tell me the story of how you discovered you loved to play hockey?” 

It was evident by his face that Azriel wasn’t expecting that question. But he’d tell her anything she ever wanted to know about him. Sharing parts of himself wasn’t frightening. Not with her. 

“I only ever played when I was permitted to visit my mother,” Azriel started, mimicking Elain’s stance. “Illyria was one of the poorer places in the Night Region. Our hockey sticks were thick tree branches, our puck was a crushed tin can, the net was a bunch of taped pipes, and since there was no rink, we played on concrete. Me and all the other Illyrian children, Cassian included, loved it. We would always split off into two teams, but never took it seriously. For most of them, it was just a way to pass the time. But for me it was the one time I felt like a kid. I’ve only been playing for a few years.” 

“And you’re good at it,” Elain confirmed, eyes soft. 

Azriel winked. “The best.” 

Elain chuckled. “When did you actually learn how to skate?

“Not until I moved to Velaris as a teenager. Rhys and Morrigan grew up knowing since their families had enough money to afford lessons, so they taught me and Cass. I fell in love with skating, but there wasn’t an official hockey team until a few years ago. Morrigan couldn’t enter the ice dancing competition alone, and since I just wanted to keep skating in whichever way was possible, I agreed to be her partner. Once there was news that hockey was making its way to Velaris, I stopped competing.” 

“Which do you like better? Hockey or ice skating?” 

Azriel shrugged. “Both. For different reasons. Hockey for the athleticism and sportsmanship, and ice skating for the artistry and techniques. They serve two purposes in my life, and I couldn't imagine not loving either sport.” Sheepishly, he added, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent.” 

“I don’t mind,” Elain answered. “I asked. And I–like listening to you. Learning about you.” Her eyes flashed up toward him. Pools of hazel were already staring at her, pupils significantly dilated as he took her in. She imagined her eyes were similar. 

Before he could act on his desire, Azriel cleared his throat. “How about I get the pucks from the net, and you and I can have a little competition of our own, hm?” 

Elain shot him a devious look. “You’re on.” 

Quick as he could, Azriel launched himself to the net and pushed the pucks back toward the blue line, a laugh bubbling to the surface when Elain pleaded for him not to send all the pucks toward her at the same time because she couldn’t stop them all. When he assumed he’d gathered all the pucks, he stood from his crouched position, only to see a lone puck behind the net. 

He slid around to catch it on his blade, and before he could send it back toward Elain, he heard her cry out. 

“Az, duck!” 

Of course, he did the exact opposite. His head snapped up, and he couldn’t react quick enough before the puck smacked against his eyebrow and fell dully on the ice. 

He felt the blood before he saw it, wincing at the sting of pain. Elain gasped, throwing the stick and skating toward him, crystalline tears hanging on her lashes. 

“Az, I’m sorry,” She croaked, hands covering her face as she watched the blood pour from the gash. “I thought you’d gotten up and were skating away and–.” 

“Elain, breathe,” Azriel said gently, pulling her into his chest. He kissed her hair once, hoping the gesture would soothe her. “It was an accident. I’m okay, sweetheart, I promise. Come with me so I can clean this up.”

She didn’t protest when he took her hand and skated them off the ice toward the locker room. Not wanting to bloody his practice jersey more than it was, he shrugged it off and tossed it to the side along with his shoulder pads. 

“What can I do?” Elain asked through her tears, eyes darting around the room for something she could do to be productive. Also so that her eyes did not linger on Azriel’s bare chest and the blood smeared across his tattoos.

“If you can grab a few clean towels from the bathroom storage closet, that would be–.” 

She didn’t even let him finish. As fast as she could on skates, she wobbled to the nearest bathroom to gather a handful of towels, blinking away the new wave of tears. When she returned, she found Azriel sitting down on the wooden bench, fiddling with a first aid kit. His head shot up when she came bursting in through the door. 

“Elain, please be careful. I don't need you breaking your ankle because you’re running around all frantic.” 

She rolled her eyes so far back in her head she could’ve seen her skull. “Will you shush and stop worrying about me for three seconds?”

Azriel huffed, criss crossing his legs on the bench to face her. He’d shucked off his skates before she emerged from the bathroom.

Elain settled herself on the bench, kneeling as she pressed a towel to his eyebrow. Her arms were a bit weak from shooting pucks, but she hoped the pressure would be enough to stop the bleeding. Her legs grew tired after a minute of awkwardly kneeling on the bench. With one hand, she shifted her weight to hastily untie her skates, letting them drop to the floor as she assumed a cross legged position herself. This position, however, strained her back enough to where it was uncomfortable, not tolerable. 

“I–do you mind if I come closer?” She requested gently, goosebumps skittering over her skin.

“Do what you need.” The thickness in his voice shot straight through her core. 

Elain scooched forward, forcing his legs to open and hang off the sides of the bench. She settled her own legs overtop of his thighs, close enough to his body where she could feel the heat through her own shirt. 

In this proximity, there wasn’t much else she could focus on. She had her choice of his bloodied chest, shoulders, throat, neck, or face. Every part was equally attractive as the next, even covered in crimson. Elain figured a knife would be able to slice right through the tension in the air. 

Thankfully, the pressure she applied to his brow clotted the bleeding within a few minutes. Removing the towel, she studied the gash and then rummaged through the kit for a damp towelette. With gentle fingers, she began cleaning the dried blood from his face. 

And Azriel watched her. Hazel eyes track her every movement, fists clenching and unclenching in his lap with barely concealed restraint. 

Once the area around his brow was cleaned, Elain opened a small butterfly bandage. She titled his head downward, smoothing the bandage over the cut, which was more shallow than she’d originally thought. 

Azriel swallowed as she retrieved another towelette and ran it over his neck. His warm breath exhaled over her cheeks. “You asked me three questions,” He began hoarsely, gripping her wrist to hold it against his skin. “Please just let me ask you one.”

She nodded, tongue absentmindedly darting out to wet her bottom lip. 

Azriel squirmed beneath her as he tracked the movement. 

So she did it again. 

“Elain Archeron,” he groaned, voice utterly wrecked as his other hand slid around the back of her neck, pulling her close until their foreheads touched. He licked his own lips once and asked, “why haven't you let me kiss you yet?” 

Her breath hitched, doe eyes peering up at him through dark lashes. “Azriel–.”

“I need you to tell me if this– thing between us– is all in my head,” he begged, pads of his fingers gently massaging the skin of her neck. “I need you to tell me if I’ve read all the signs wrong. If I’m in way over my damn head. Because the way you look at me drives me fucking wild . Sometimes it looks like you want to kiss me.” A hesitant swallow, followed by a confession that could change everything. “And I know I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you so bad I'd wait years for it. I know how you feel about dating and I know how you feel about mixing business with pleasure and I respect that. I really do. But I need you to know that I want you. I want you, and I would be so good to you, Elain.”

She couldn’t breathe. Her heart was racing and her head was screaming and her body was positively aching as she scooted forward, now seated fully in his lap, towelette discarded somewhere on the floor. His hands slid down to her hips, thumbs brushing over the skin that’d been exposed when her shirt rode up her stomach. 

“I’ve thought so much about this,” He went on, nuzzling into her neck. “About us and what we could be.” Softly, he pressed just one kiss to her burning flesh. “I want to take you out. I want to hold you and kiss you and make you laugh. I want to see how you look first thing in the morning when you wake up. I want to cook you breakfast and dance in the kitchen. I want to watch you accomplish every fucking goal you’ve ever dreamed of. I want to support your passions and hobbies and talents. I want to make love to you. In bed, in a garden, under the fucking stars. I want everything, Elain,” Azriel murmured, removing his lips from her skin. “And I want it with you.” 

There was a miniscule piece of her that believed she didn’t deserve this. His desire, his devotion, his…love. But a far greater part of her, the part that had started to heal the moment he set foot in her life, pushed back against the voice that called her undeserving. 

Because she wanted him and she wanted those same, beautiful moments with him. And she deserved to put herself first. 

“Am I wrong?” Azriel asked cautiously, and her brain short circuited at the raw pain in his voice. “Elain, if I’m wrong, please tell me and I will walk away right now and we will never speak of this again. We will go back to being skating partners, and we will never have to see each other after this competition if you don’t want to. It’s your choice. It is always your choice.” 

Azriel was right. 

It was her choice. 

To touch him. To taste him. To want him.

She slid a hand around his neck too then, fingertips playing with the ends of his dark hair. His eyes struggled to stay open as her fingers grazed his skin. “I think I’ve wanted you for far longer than I was ready to admit.” 

Azriel’s eyes snapped open almost comically. He rasped, “Elain… ”

A finger to his lips silenced him. “I thought denying my feelings for you would ultimately help me remember my goal,” She explained, eyes softening. “But then every day you would do something or say something that made me fall so much harder. And I finally decided that I’m done pretending. I’m done depriving myself of the things I want, the man I want.” 

The corners of his lips twitched, thumbs still lazily circling over her hip bones. Elain wanted him to touch her forever. 

“So to answer your question… No, Azriel,” A shaky breath passed her parted mouth. Elain’s hands slid down his chest, across the dark ink that curled over each ridge of his toned chest, brushing against the E chain she’d made him keep. She let her fingers trace the outline of each intricate swirl. Then she said quietly, “You’re not wrong at all.” 

And Elain finally, finally , kissed him. 

She kissed him hard and fast to make up for all the times their lips should’ve met. Her fingers grabbed at every exposed inch of his skin, pulling him close yet not close enough. She clung to him like a lifeline, the space between their bodies entirely nonexistent as they kissed as if they’d never get another chance.

Azriel’s tongue ran over her bottom lip, and there was no hesitation as she gave him permission to explore her mouth. Elain hadn’t had many kisses in her life, and truly maybe that was for the best, because nothing would ever come close to the way Azriel was claiming her mouth. His lips were confident, calculated, and she moaned when he softly sucked her tongue. 

“You’re so beautiful, Elain,” Azriel whispered in the split second they’d both pulled away to breathe. Lovely scarred hands cradled the sides of her neck as he stared into her eyes and said with conviction, “You are so beautiful and you’re mine. Today, tomorrow, and for however long you wish.” 

Forever sounded good to her. 

“I’m yours,” Her voice was void of hesitation. Only an unwavering proclamation of belonging to him and him alone. 

But Azriel tentatively swallowed, hazel eyes darting between her warm brown ones. He gazed at her carefully. 

She knew he needed to hear it, too. 

Gently, her lips dusted a kiss over his mouth before saying, “You’re mine, Azriel. For today, for tomorrow, and for however long you wish.” 

And something told Elain forever sounded good to him, too.

Azriel had driven them both back to Elain’s apartment. Like lovesick teenagers, they had stumbled through her front door, giggling softly with kiss swollen lips. The plan had been to order takeout and browse through Elain’s selection of movies, but in their frenzy they’d fallen to the sofa, where the last twenty minutes had been spent with Elain straddling Azriel’s lap as he alternated between biting the hollow of her throat or kissing her sweet mouth. 

At a slightly harder nip to her skin, Elain let out a groan that had Azriel chuckling and shifting his hips beneath her. Against her neck, he said, “That one was pretty. I do wonder what other sounds you can make, though.” 

Elain breathed a laugh, pulling back only to gently push his shoulder. She didn’t think she’d ever tire of the way he made flirting look so easy. 

After a moment, Azriel’s smirk settled into something softer, more reserved. “Is this real?” He whispered more to himself than anything, palms splayed open on her thighs. She felt the heat through her dark leggings. He hadn’t stopped touching her since they left the rink.

Elain’s heart fluttered. She nodded once, delicate hands sliding up his arms, the breadth of his shoulders, to cradle his cheeks. “This is real, Az. You’re here. I’m here. We’re together. This is real.” 

With a slight tilt of his head, he pressed a kiss to her inner wrist. His eyes, those gorgeous pools of hazel, were so open and warm and loving. Elain imagined hers looked the same. 

“And you don’t…regret this?” He wondered aloud. The unspoken words rang in the air. You don’t regret choosing me?  

Elain’s fingertips slowly massaged the back of his neck. A purr rumbled through his chest. “No. Quite frankly I’ve grown tired of not prioritizing myself. It’s about time I learned to go after what I want, don’t you think?” 

Azriel dipped his chin. “And I'm what you want?” 

“How could you not be?” Elain shrugged, all the while a beam lit up her face. “You came into my life at a time when I needed you the most. You, Azriel, showed me what it’s like to fall in love with living. You encouraged me, supported me, and placed my happiness above all else.” Elain ghosted her lips over his. “If I lived a thousand lifetimes, I'd choose you in them all.” 

She could have sworn she felt him shudder in relief. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Azriel murmured, hazel eyes glossy. “When I agreed to be your skating partner, I never thought it would lead to this. I just wanted to help in whatever way I could.” Rough hands gripped her waist, pulling her body even further into his own. “I wouldn’t change the outcome for the world. You’re it for me, El. I haven’t wanted anyone else in the years I've known you, and I'm never going to want anyone else.” 

As sweet as it was, Elain cocked her head. “What?” 

Azriel realized his mistake, evident by the red tint on his cheeks. Elain smoothed her hand over his skin as he whispered, “I’ve been smitten with you for seven years, El. Nineteen year old Az thought eighteen year old Elain was the prettiest girl in all of Prythian.” He tucked a piece of hair behind her shoulder, smiling shyly. “She still is.” 

The kiss she gave him stole the breath from his lungs, and soon they were laughing and smiling and rearranging their bodies on the plush sofa to lie beside each other. 

And they simply…talked. 

They talked about their new relationship, mostly. The expectations and the fears and the boundaries. How they feel most loved, most appreciated. Their goals and what they envision for their future. And how beautiful it was for them to be on the same page. 

They were also very briefly interrupted by Nesta’s frantic voice on the phone, begging to see if Elain was available tomorrow to whip up two dozen cupcakes for the end of the year party Nesta was throwing for her dance students. Azriel had been marking her collarbone at the time of the call, and Elain grumbled a quick “Yes, yes they’ll be done by noon, now leave me alone” , before ending the call. 

At some point during their conversation, Azriel let out a loud yawn. He shifted on the couch, no doubt about to stand and grab his keys before Elain pressed a hand to his chest and said, “Stay.” 

Azriel blinked, surely misunderstanding her word. “You…want me to stay?” 

Elain nodded sheepishly. “Yes. I uh…I have a spare toothbrush. And I’ve stolen enough of your clothing over the last few months, so you can change into something fresh.” She bit her lip. “Only if you want to.” 

And if she thought he would pass up the opportunity to fall asleep beside her, she was sorely mistaken. Because fifteen minutes later, showered and ready for bed, Azriel and Elain slipped into her pink satin sheets, limbs tangled with content, sleepy smiles painted on their cheeks. 

It was the most blissful sleep either of them ever had. 

ARTWORK FOR THE CHAPTER BY @chachachai17: Here

DIVIDER BY: @saradika-graphics

[aldisobey]

The Veilguard's Gift

AO3 link for you all

Set some months after the epilogue. Rook is feeling rested and visiting Neve at the Cobbled Swan for some easy work. Unfortunately the conversation doesn't get a chance to stay light.

------

A muse fairy visited me tonight and put this in my hands. Normally spend way longer with stuff before putting it out there but I know this'll be in wips way too long if I don't offer it up now and I think it's fun enough to share (or not we'll see how the morning hits haha). Full story below because it's shy of 2k, guess I wanted to practice Neve for the future.

“Rook. It’s good to see you.”

“Neve!” It’d only been a few months but he couldn’t help it. Rook took off dashing and engulfed her in a hug. Nearly sent them both tumbling into the muddied street at the violent joy of it.

“Whoa,” she responded with a dry laugh and a smirk, “must be doing well.”

Rook released her, still beaming and laughed in reply, the sound deep, and for once, maybe in all his years, rested. “My head’s finally quiet, I think I slept four weeks straight.” He hadn’t. Emmrich had made sure to wake him as much as need required, but those had been blissfully quiet moments, soft remembrances lost in fade of melding dreams.

“Aw, you’re thinking of him aren’t you?” She still smirked, dug an elbow into his side. The touch was grounding, made Rook blink and snap his head to the side where she walked with him. Their feet led them up the steps into the Swan as he gave a characteristic shake of his head.

“What?!” But he smiled, others might guess what subject his mind had retreated to when he spaced out, but Neve had a knack for knowing just what each glazed look was. Or…did she always guess Emmrich? Was it always him? Rook screwed his face in thought, and Neve chuckled low again, seemingly aware that she’d lost his attention to the lich once more.

“You’re still with him right? Where is he?”

The smile returned, but Rook kept the memories and distracting thoughts free from his mind as he and Neve made way to the preferred spot for the day in the Cobbled Swan. It shifted after all, and today the mood suited here. Sometimes intuition was the thing to follow.

“Of course! Neve we’re soulmates.” Said with his full chest, he cleared his throat, covered the sincerity with a chuckle. That was too loud, oh lord don’t think him too serious. Maker help him. It felt that and more.

“He’s back in Nevarra dealing with…” he nearly said lich business out loud. In the middle of Docktown's most prominent bar while accompanying someone that always drew eyes. He took a seat opposite the detective. Naturally Neve would meet him somewhere safe from enemies and their gossip. But it wouldn’t be uncommon for friendlier eyes to have an eye on her, for protection at the very least. Best not spread that ‘secret’ further than needed. “...Mourn Watch business.”

Rook muttered as he settled into his chair and folded his hands in front of him on the table. Nodded. Pleased with the answer and seeming importance of his partner. “You know classes and stuff maybe start…”

Neve copied his movements, leaned onto the table in much the same way, perhaps stoking a conspiratorial spirit as she made direct eye contact. It broke off his thoughts, paused his words. Rook felt a shiver on his neck, something in her eyes was dire, insistent, and he couldn’t turn his gaze from it as she spoke even, slow. “Soulmates or not, you should think about breaking it off.”

She wasted no time. Rook confirmed it. Emmrich wasn’t here. Lucanis had checked, double checked. The Warden was here alone. And she didn’t know when that would happen again. If ever? Didn’t feel like bringing up the subject around the professor. Oh he would understand of course, give them space, but could he listen? Would he still hear every word? Friend or not, the foundations of the patterns taking form were troubling, best nip this early if possible. If it wasn’t dealt with…

Rook was in shock, jaw dropped, folded fingers coming loose as he drew back. His breath escaped hushed, surprised, and without any thought, “Neve…what…I’m…life is perfect?” Pained. It was like he’d been slapped.

He figured they would be swapping stories of their work. Well, his tales were mostly rest, but he could share such things after some of those dreams. And this meeting was supposed to be his first foray into some relaxingly safe work. Like building a park or something. And surely she wanted to talk about Lucanis, the Threads, detective work…anything other than whatever this was? It started with pain, to confusion, and was simmering into irritation, why would she say that?

“Listen, Rook. I love Emmrich, we all do, sincerely. We’re happy for both of you. And we know he’s obsessed with you.” Rook wanted to mutter obsessed with each other thank you, but her flat tone was as sincere as ever, and the gravity of the moment kept him silent. But for once, the hint of a tremble entered her words, “Where do you think that’s going to lead as you age? If you ever choose to put yourself in real danger again?” she paused, something had caught her eye, a flit of magic or some thinning of the Fade.

Thankfully a Thread mage outside the Swan had seen the same and dealt with whatever it was, but for the briefest moment her eyes widened in rare shock, and her voice dropped to a whisper, “It might take you a while to realize, that’s fine…” this was taking too long, too painful to say aloud and to make real, she groaned, “...just, if you ever need to disappear, I specialize in that work, know people that do. And I’ll always be here to help you. Okay? I’ll leave someone in my place if I’m too old for all this, so know that it’s always. Even if you’re in Nevarra.” With that said she pulled something from her pocket.

“You know how to use some magic items right?”

Rook nodded. Steeped in silence at the ‘attack’ or whatever this was.

Neve revealed a ring, pressed it into Rook’s slack hands before he could protest. He picked it up from his palm. It had a thick gold band, set with a large deep purple sapphire, and within it glowing soft, without shedding light, was the elven rune for rebellion. But when it caught light just so it threw soft purple in the room. Rook didn’t have the keenest eye for such things, but even he could tell this was a princely gift.

“Lucanis paid for this.” Rook muttered as he turned it in close examination, at times searching for that spot where it threw the light. Neve laughed light at that, eager to soften the conversation as well.

“Oh? Looking to take my job are you?” Rook looked up from the ring to Neve’s winking face, and found that he could smile again.

“Consider it a gift from your Veilguard. Wear it at all times. Never take it off. Grave gold is a thing for you now right? If you're buried...well...it needs to be with you.” She spoke halting, slow, firm. Many things left unsaid.

But the Warden heard them, and the warmth of sentiment over receiving such a grand gift faded, replaced with a feeling tight in his throat, a shiver that ran from head to toe. He closed a fist around the ring, he didn’t dare wear it until this picture came into focus. “Why? Neve. It’s magic?”

She sighed, looked ready to reach for a pipe as she leaned back in her chair. Content enough that Rook held it for the moment. She took a deep breath and briefly held up two fingers, “It’s got two uses I need you to learn. And its magic nature shouldn’t be detectable. Dorian helped with that.”

Rook blinked, “Why’s that…but…is this a secret?” His heart beat fast. The ring suddenly felt cold where it sat digging into his palm.

“First use. Tilt it just so, it doesn’t need light just the right angle for that rune, then whisper ‘whatever it takes’. We’ll try to get to you as fast as we can. A safety precaution. It’s likely Emmrich already gave you something of the sort.” She nodded to an expensive new piece of gold on Rook’s right index finger that he’d started rolling with the thumb of the same hand. The Warden gulped, brain rebelling against fitting the pieces to the pattern Neve could see so clearly.

“A beacon.” he muttered.

Neve nodded once, “Mhm. And when you activate it, it should be undetectable, that light is attuned to you, I can’t see a thing. Dorian struggled with that but seemed satisfied by the result. It won’t alert Emmrich. It…” She refused to voice any doubt. Shrugged, a brow furrowed, sighed before a firm, “It won’t.” Silence came between them as drinks were delivered.

Rook stared down at his fist, the ring hidden from sight. Mind reeling at the implications of it all. So much thought that had gone into this. All that work. And from the best people he knew? Why? Why go through all this trouble? Spend all this money? On magic that was hidden from…Rook bit his tongue, nearly bled, but once they were alone, servers absent, he spoke, his voice flat, a certain irritability building, “The second use?” his knuckles were white, clenched hand nearly shaking.

“Instant conflagration. For the wearer.”

“What…” a whisper of horror, a burn of bile in his throat, Rook coughed, settled it, but his face fell. He could feel a roiling in his gut, wanted to throw the damned thing as far as he could, but something caught, he couldn’t. He grasped it tight, went pale, sweat beading his brow. “...why…what…Neve…” pleading for her to spell it out, at the same time he seemed likely to bolt, his eyes wild, round, looking for some way out of this conversation. Out of all this.

Neve reached across the table, placed her hands over Rook’s quaking fist, over that princely magic ring meant to protect him. Protect him from? The Warden's nails were digging deep into his palm, nearly cut into flesh before the Tevene stilled him. He expected cold hands from an ice mage, the warmth surprised him, but calmed the uncontrolled movements. A shudder ran his skin, a warm touch. He closed his eyes, calming, breathing, and then looked back at Neve.

“Rook. I’m sorry." He could hear the pain there, the true grief. Perhaps even disbelief that she had followed through, had made this happen. But then she cleared her throat, and Rook could see determination take hold. A confident resilience that knew this might seem extra, but precautions always did seem silly when the storm you prepared for had never been witnessed. At least not of the specific type, she had seen…other varieties.

"I need to be quick, I want you to know it’s perfectly safe to wear.” Neve squeezed his hand, gentle, reassuring as best she could, “Like I said, Dorian helped. It’ll only happen in very specific steps. It'll be instant. Leave nothing behind. I need to know that you’ve learned the steps.”

The Warden swallowed. Blinked back the heat threatening again. Neve withdrew her hands as she felt him still. Rook choked down the rising anger towards her, at this, and looked down again. Opened his hand, once bruised and cut, twisted, calloused. Now, he noticed with a soft smile and shining eyes. Scarred, but soft, still rough, but not so harshly calloused. He hadn’t had to fight in months. Was that so bad? The ring looked blurry in his vision.

He blinked at the loving gift, the cursed thing. Picked it up. Turned it again in the light, noted that hue of the sapphire, they'd captured a favorite, and that rune what it meant for them all, that weight, and there that cast of light. And he felt warmth again. Love radiating from the rest of that family he finally found. They were warning him. He didn’t believe them. Almost hated Neve for this.

He slid the ring onto his left index finger.

“What are they?”

[lovebeatriceplz]

Marcid - (adj): withered, incredibly exhausted

Geto x Gn! Reader. Tw! Intrusive thoughts, mention of taking one's life. Comfort/ angst. A short drabble

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. The ticking of the clock and his heartbeat move in sync. Sleep, it's all he wants at the moment but it doesn't come, he doesn't allow it to. Tick. Tick. His heart slows down when he dozes off, so much so that at times he feels like it may stop, so he stays awake.

The hard marble floor steals his warmth, but he can't bring himself to move. A gentle tap on his shoulder pulls him back "Suguru". He knows it's you but he looks anyway. He's a total mess, but it's not the tied up hair and the dark circles on his face that alarm you. It's the look in his eyes. Dread, anguish and something else, you almost wish that they were empty instead. Wishing that he was numb instead of feeling so deeply.

He quickly averts his gaze before you could analyse him further. "Aren't you going to bed?" You spoke softly, yet the words sounded loud in the otherwise empty room. "Huh- oh, right" he sounds so unsure, you're not convinced that he even heard what you said. Everyone else had headed back to the dorms, even Gojo. You did too, that's what he guesses judging by your sleep attire. That also means that you came back just for him.

"I'll be there...in a minute". Not wanting to leave him alone, you take a seat beside him, shoulders and thighs touching, sharing some of your warmth. It made the throbbing in his bones a little less painful. "It's finally the weekend, we can just sleep all day" you say in a light tone after some beats of silence. The promise of a break is supposed to make him feel better, but it doesn't because it isn't true. They'll spend their weekend exorcising curses. He's so sick of it.

His gaze is fixed on an invisible force in front of him. "If by sleeping you mean battling demons" he mumbles dryly. Demons that didn't even belong to us. You let out an amused huff, stretching your limbs and resting against the wall "well someone's gotta do it no?". Did you even realize what you were saying? That vile, churning feeling starts to bubble up in his stomach again. He glares at you through his peripheral silently. He couldn't even get mad, just look at who he was speaking to. You've made the sacrifices, took punches and lost sleep to do your work, time and time again he's watched you throw so much away. And for what? for the sake of those.... non - sorcerers.

"Those bastards don' t deserve us" it's a quiet, muttered statement, but it slipped out anyways. "Geto!" Of course he wasn't okay you knew that, but it never crossed your mind once that resentment might be what's killing him slowly. "I just- what if we burn out?" he shifts to face you completely, grabbing your arm "hm?".

The words you want to say stick to your throat like bread. "What are you saying? we don't get to burn out-". The physical reaction he has stops you immediately, and he lets go of your arm, not meeting your eyes. "I-" you sigh quietly, the previously comfortable silence became heavy. You place a hand over one of his resting on the ground, running your fingers over his knuckles, his heart lurches. "Is that what's been bothering you, Suguru? is it getting too much?".

He shakes his head. "I don't want this, i can't do it anymore". When he makes eye contact again, he's met with understanding and affection, one that makes him feel safe, like he could tell you anything, he can. Your other hand moves to his face, finger pads running along his jaw. Suddenly everything for Geto is too much, the clock was too loud, the floor too cold, his skin too hot. When your hand shifts and you have your palm against his face instead, his lips press to the delicate skin of your wrist. His hand placed on the ground allows you to thread your fingers together, and that's how it is for a while. If it was up to him, he'd stay like that for the rest of the night.

You suck in a sharp breath "you should get some rest" you whisper. He doesn't reply. He wanted you, so bad that it was awful. These thoughts, they hit him out of nowhere some days. Violent, nefarious thoughts that cause him to lose his dinner. However, they always get quiet when you're around, when you laugh or keep him company. You reduce his monsters to mere pests that he can manage for a while. It almost makes him feel like you can fix him. Almost.

"Come with me?" He murmurs into your skin, eyes still shut. You look up "to your room?" That wasn't a good idea, but the night was freezing, you're tired and his thoughts are deafening. Without giving an indication or reply, Suguru simply rises, hand still hooked unto yours. "just come with me" he murmurs again, heading to his room and taking you with him.

Tangled limbs, and gentle caresses. His shirt is discarded and replaced by your touch, his hands slip under your clothes, but that's as far as it goes. When that dark place starts to claw at his feet once more, he presses kisses all over you. His lips connect with your neck, your nose, the corner of your mouth, focusing on how tender you feel. He only stops when he catches a glimpse of how you're looking at him. "What?" he breathes out, oh how he wanted to kiss the crinkle in between your brow and watch it disappear, he wanted to kiss all your worries away. "I feel like i'm losing you" you say quietly.

His face twists into a grimace, and he rolls off of you, laying on his back and running a hand over his face. He felt like he was losing himself, too, but he couldn't say that. He's so tired, it's kind of tired that sleep won't cure. He has thought about running away, leaving everything behind, leaving you behind. To make the thought even more unlike him, he's accepted the fact that he might have to kill to live the way he wants to, lives would have to be lost, and sometimes he feels like he's willing to make that sacrifice. To make that sacrifice for all of them.

You turn. Getting on top of him this time. Your fingers find and undo the clips keeping his hair together, untangling his unkempt locks. He chases after your touch, wanting to feel more of the things only you could make him feel. His mind wanders once more. There's always the other option, the one he's been trying to avoid. Going to sleep, maybe the next time his heart starts to slow down he'll let it, maybe he'll speed up the process, rip it out of his chest and squeeze it until it stops beating, until he stops living. But then what? He'd get away, and you'd be left here, heartbroken, a part of him hopes. But unhappy, and nothing would change, it had to change, he was going to change it.

The feeling of your fingers against his lips pulls him back, and he looks at you with a half lidded gaze. "Hey, we'll be alright" you say quietly, the words sounding loud in the otherwise empty room. Liar. He doesn't say it. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "Oh you're wrong, you're so perfect...but you're so wrong" his tone is breathless, like it's painful to speak. You brush away his tears, and you lean down to capture his lips with yours.

A strangled, choked up sound slips out of his mouth, and he pulls you close, fingers exploring the expanse of your back. The kiss is slow, and the most softness he's allowed himself to indulge in, in a while. You were kissing his worries away, if you tried hard enough you could scrape together his broken pieces, and place them back into the order he's lost.

You can't fix him entirely, though, and he hates himself for it. But for now you can ground him, prevent him from losing his mind and losing even more of himself. That night, the lines between friendship and something more intimate are blurred. And no matter what you call yourselves after this, you have each other.

Habromania - (noun): delusions of happiness