#you're not incomplete but you still hold half of each other

[zillychu]

woke up from a dead sleep last night realizing I could make soroku flavored pitch pearl and no one could stop me

edit: you know what? I'm feral and I won't apologize. more under the cut bc this is my house

I slammed this out all at once so I apologize for the quality but I'm having EMOTIONS

so imagine. bc of the way Danny was quickly resuscitated, his ghost only barely started forming. With the excess blast of ectoplasm from the portal being created, that little whisp was given form even after Danny's soul returned to his body.

except this ghost (Phantom) slowly comes into consciousness while trapped in Danny's body. they're separate entities sharing one body, but Phantom doesn't really have a sense of self right away. he pieces together vague fragments of Danny's memory to get a basic understanding of the world, and is mostly just observing like a backseat passenger.

Phantom starts reflexively protecting Danny, his powers and instincts bleeding through when his emotions are high. Danny doesn't really transform, and his personality doesn't totally shift that much at first because Phantom’s mind isn't complex yet. but as time goes on, and Danny has tense conversations with ghosts, Phantom realizes that's what he is. he's a ghost, somehow trapped in his old body. and even now, this early on, he already feels separate. he doesn't have all the memories Danny has.

this slowly turns into horror. into rage. sorrow, mourning a life he never got and will never get to have. forever trapped behind the eyes of someone else, never able to interact with the world. Phantom's rage eventually boils over until it allows him short bursts of taking over Danny's body. it starts out small–a stray hand moving without his consent, knees locking up, ghost abilities going awry. Danny can start feeling emotions that don't belong to him. get vague impressions, almost hears a voice inside him.

and eventually, Phantom is able to fully take over. this is when Danny “transforms". at first, Danny blacks out because his consciousness isn't used to being shoved into the back seat. but eventually, he's awake for these “episodes", trapped in the back of his mind while Phantom controls his body. this only happens when ghost stuff is happening, when Phantom feels threatened enough. he's not protecting Danny, he's protecting himself. Phantom knows instinctively that if Danny dies, he dies too. he's not a normal ghost, he wouldn't be freed. he'd simply disappear.

at one point after a fight, Phantom can feel Danny struggling to take back control. and he talks to Danny for the first time, acknowledges he's there. asks how it's fair that Danny is the one that gets to exist. but Phantom is tired and weak, he slips back into the passenger seat.

over the next few days, he's able to start talking to Danny even while he's not driving. though he's not chatty, it's only when necessary. and Danny knows, can feel it across the link between them–Phantom hates him. the ghost he created is desperate to find a way to take over completely. and as time goes on, Danny realizes with horror that it might actually be possible for Phantom to do that. he grows stronger every day, can stay transformed longer, controls Danny's body with much more ease.

it's only through a chance meeting with Frostbite that Danny and Phantom fully learn what happened to them. Danny feels sympathetic towards Phantom now. this isn't a malevolent ghost, it's a person who was never given the chance to live. who's trapped. who has to watch someone else live a life they're just as deserving of.

and Phantom feels that emotion from Danny. is so shocked by it, he doesn't know how to handle it at first. it takes him a while to contemplate, to talk to other ghosts like Frostbite. until one day, Phantom realizes… he feels sympathy for Danny, too.

neither of them asked for this. both of them deserve to live. Danny didn't do anything wrong. they're both villains to each other's story. and if anything… doesn't Phantom owe his life to Danny in the first place?

Phantom takes over less often. Danny doesn't feel hatred from him anymore. anger, yes–but not aimed at him. in fact, Phantom starts controlling their body in little ways in order to protect Danny from things that aren't even dangerous. just to avoid pain that would only affect the human tethered to him.

it isn't long before they're separated, either thanks to another ghost or Danny's parents. they're thrown apart in the middle of a horrific fight, and when Danny sees Phantom's equally shocked expression, he's terrified.

this ghost that hated him for so long–at best, Phantom would leave him defenseless. at worst, surely some part of Phantom still wants to kill him for stealing away his chance for autonomy.

and yet, when fire rains down on them, Phantom risks it all to grab Danny and get them both to safety. they're still both shaken and stunned this is even happening, but Phantom is able to nervously be like shit shit shit okay stay here don't go anywhere or I can't protect you, okay?

after the fight is over and dust settles, Phantom offers Danny his hand. they stare at each other and god if this isn't the weirdest thing. like, uh, okay, what now? they decide to go see Frostbite, who confirms that they're fully separate now. they ask if there's any chance of merging again and Frostbite assures it's impossible.

Phantom asks, even if I overshadowed Danny? or stay real close? yes, it's nothing to worry about. they leave, and back in the quiet of Danny's room, they talk. Phantom isn't sure what to do. now that opportunity is in front of him, he feels paralyzed. Danny does his best to let Phantom know that… they might be separate now, but if he ever wants help or even just a friendly ear, he's here for him.

Phantom is quiet for a while. then says maybe he just needs to rest first. he'll think about it tomorrow. they're both exhausted and injured. Phantom asks quietly… if he could rest in Danny for the night.

Danny's shocked, and–really confused. Phantom blushes and is like I don't know what my haunt is yet, I don't know where to go, but I know… you're kind of my home. now that I know I can leave whenever I want, it's not something bad anymore. I miss feeling your heart next to my core, just a little bit.

and Danny is just as surprised when Phantom overshadows him, then quietly nestles into the passenger seat again. he didn't realize how he got used to feeling Phantom with him. it's a feedback loop of contentedness, and Danny sleeps easily. (they also find out while sharing a body, Danny gets to reap the benefits of Phantom's supernatural healing)

anyway that's all I got for now thank u for coming to my ted talk

[justallmyfantasies]

been on tour for too long

the only thing keeping you sane whilst he was gone was his music.

contains: 18+ smut. (unprotected piv, oral (f receiving) praise, teasing. i think that’s all)

word count: 4.4k

MINORS DONT INTERACT

the room felt dark with only the sounds of music coming from the record player in the corner of the room. it was placed on a dark wood table with records in the storage underneath. you were playing one of his records, the one he’d recently published. you missed his voice, his face and everything of him.

alex had been on tour for months, not seeing you at all. you both came to the agreement that you had to focus on your work instead of going out, flying to each venue to watch him play. you hated it, he hated it. it wasn’t ideal, although you had called him each night without fail. it still wasn’t enough. you wanted him back in your arms.

you fidgeted with a lock of hair that was in your hand, braiding it slightly then undoing it. the sound of a new song playing entered your ear.

just as the music started playing, a soft knock could be heard at the front door. it was late, a bit too late for visitors. curious, you stopped braiding your hair, the braid just hanging in your hand as the knock rang again, a little louder this time, yet still soft. it was hesitant somehow.

after debating in your mind for a few moments whether to answer or ignore it, you decided to check who it was. placing the incomplete braid somewhere to one side, you stood up and walked to the front door. it was quiet in the hallway, only the soft music that filled the room still being heard. the knock rang again. louder this time.

as you approached the door, you could feel your heart starting to beat faster. you weren't sure why, it was probably just a neighbor or someone asking for something. you weren't in danger - at least that's what you told yourself. taking a deep breath, you reached out, grasping the cold doorknob and twisting it. slowly, the door opened, its hinges releasing a creak.

as the door opened, a small gust of wind brushed past you, causing a shiver to run down your spine. however, that wasn't what caught your attention. your eyes widened as they fell on what was visible through the half-opened door. there was someone standing there, a familiar face that you hadn't seen in months.

it was alex. he was leaning against the doorframe, one hand holding onto his luggage, the other resting in his pocket. his head was tilted, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he looked at you. he looked tired, bags underneath his eyes, but still handsome as ever.

at that moment, all your worries and the ache inside you seemed to disappear in the blink of an eye. seeing him there, standing in front of you after so many months felt surreal. you couldn't help but smile widely, your heart fluttering in your chest.

his smile widened as he saw your reaction, his eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and adoration. taking a step closer, he spoke, his voice gentle yet rough from the travel. "did you miss me, doll?"

a rush of emotions coursed through you. hearing his voice again, that pet name, the nickname that only he could call you, it was almost overwhelming. "missed you?" you repeated, closing the distance between you both. "i've been going crazy without you, baby."

his arms encircled you in a tight embrace, pulling you close to his chest. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, taking a deep breath as he held you. "i know, i know..." he murmured against your skin. "it's been tough on me too, love."

his words were like a soothing balm to your soul. just being in his arms felt like coming home. you clung to him, relishing the feel of his body against yours, the feel of his heartbeat against your chest. you inhaled deeply, taking in his scent - a familiar mix of cologne and sweat. "you're back early," you mumbled into his shoulder. "not that i'm complaining."

he pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. his eyes roamed over your features as if he was trying to memorize every inch of your face. "yeah, the manager moved some things around," he said, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your face. "wanted to surprise you."

your heart fluttered at his words. he had come back early just to surprise you. you smiled, eyes tracing the sharp features of his face. "what’s going on with the beard, hm?" you teased lightly.

he chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. "ah," he replied, using his free hand to scratch at the scruff on his jaw. "thought i’d try something new. you don’t like it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at you, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

you reached out, running your fingers over the rough texture of his unshaven chin. the new look suited him, made him appear more rugged and mature. "i didn’t say that," you said, feigning nonchalance. "just takes some getting used to, that's all." you then ushered him inside.

he chuckled again, the corners of his eyes crinkling. he stepped inside, closing the door behind him as you led him into the living room. he dropped his luggage by the door as he followed you, his gaze shifting around the room, falling upon the record player.

"you’ve been listening to my record," he observed, a hint of pride in his voice. he walked over to the record player, picking up the cover of the vinyl that was playing. he looked at it for a moment before glancing back at you.

you shrugged. "had to, didn’t i?" you replied, a smile playing on your lips. you loved listening to his music – the lyrics that he had penned, the emotions that he poured into each song. it was comforting, like having a piece of him with you at all times.

“anyway, do you want anything to eat?”

he set the vinyl back down, turning to face you. "no, I’m okay," he said, his gaze locking onto yours.

“anything to drink?” you asked, once more.

he shook his head again. "i’m fine, love." he assured, the exhaustion in his eyes replaced by a different kind of heat. he slowly stalked closer to you, his steps measured and purposeful.

you stared at him. “well, we can always just go to bed. you look tired.”

he reached out, cupping your cheeks between his hands. his thumbs gently traced your jawline. "i am tired," he admitted, leaning down closer. "but i’m not that tired." his voice had dropped to a lower register, that familiar huskiness that sent a shiver down your spine.

“right but-“

he didn’t let you finish, his lips coming down to capture yours in a deep kiss. his mouth moved against yours with a feverish intensity, his tongue seeking entry, his hands moving down to your hips, pulling you flush against his body.

the kiss was a storm, wild and passionate. his hands roamed over your body, touching you as if he was starved for contact. a low groan rose from his throat, reverberating against your lips. he was hungry, desperate, and you could feel the pent-up desire in his every touch.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. your fingers tangled in his hair, the once-neat strands now disheveled from travel and your eager touch. the kiss swallowed any protests you might have had earlier, replacing your thoughts with the sheer need for him.

he broke the kiss, his lips moving down your jawline, tracing a path to your neck. his breath was hot against your skin, his kisses becoming rougher, more possessive, as he found that sensitive spot near your collarbone that always sent electricity coursing through you.

you giggled a bit. “alex!” the feeling of harshness coming from his beard scraping across your face made it tickle. “that tickles.”

he pulled back slightly, a cocky smile on his face. "does it?" he asked, his lips curving into a smirk. he then proceeded to bury his face in the crook of your neck again, his beard deliberately rubbing against your skin, causing another bout of giggles to escape your lips.

he continued his assault, the rough bristles of his new beard creating a new kind of sensation as he nipped and kissed your skin. his hands traveled down again, palming your ass, pulling you even closer, his body pressed fully against yours.

“you’re evil,” you manage to say, the words coming out as a gasp between giggles. he had moved to that spot behind your ear, his lips and facial hair creating a maddening mixture of ticklish and pleasurable sensations. you couldn’t help but arch into his touch, heat pooling in your core.

he chuckled against your skin, a low, throaty chuckle that sent vibrations through your body. "i’m evil, hm?" he repeated, his mouth moving back to yours, capturing your lips in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. his hands squeezed your ass, pulling you even closer to him, grinding his hips against yours, showing you just how much he wanted you.

he tasted like whiskey and something distinctly him, and you responded in kind, your body molding against his. your fingers dug into his shoulders, wanting desperately to get closer, to feel more of him, all of him after being apart for so long. the kiss was frenzied, fueled by months of separation and pent-up longing.

he finally pulled back, breaking the kiss with a gasp, his eyes darkened with obvious lust. his hands were still clutching onto you, keeping you close like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. he panted slightly, his breath hot against your skin. “bedroom.” he said, his voice a low rumble filled with desire.

you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. the heat of his gaze, the desire in his voice had robbed you of the ability to form a coherent response. without a word, you grabbed his hand and led him towards the bedroom.

as you led him down the hallway, he laced his fingers with yours, his grip firm. you could feel his eyes on your back – his gaze like a physical weight, a reminder of the heat he had ignited within you. the walk to the bedroom felt like an eternity, each step heightening the anticipation building inside you.

by the time you reached the bedroom, your heart was pounding in your chest, your breathing coming out in shallow gasps. he followed you into the room, shutting the door behind him. the click of the latch was the only sound in the room, except for the soft whirring of the ceiling fan and the faint sound of his ragged breathing.

he stepped up behind you, his chest against your back, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you against him once more. his lips found your ear, and he whispered, his voice a rough, urgent plea. "i need you, doll. i need you so badly."

the words, coupled with the possessive way his body was pressed against yours, sent a shiver down your spine, heat pooling in your core. you leaned into him, tilting your head to grant him better access to your neck. "i’m right here." you managed to say, your voice betraying your own desire.

he took the invitation, his lips finding your neck again, his tongue tracing a path up to your ear. his hands moved under your shirt, his fingers roaming over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "you don’t know," he murmured, his voice low and gruff, "how many times i thought about this, how many nights i spent alone in a cold hotel bed."

his words were like fuel to the fire that was burning inside you. you arched into him, your body responding to the touch and the proximity of his body against yours. his hands moved up, finding the edge of your bra, and you could hear his breath hitch as his fingers grazed the lace.

he tugged at the fabric, a wordless request, and you obliged, allowing him to pull off your shirt and bra in one swift movement. he tossed them aside, his eyes raking over your exposed flesh. "god, i missed you so much.” he said, his voice thick with longing and need.

his hands returned to your body, his touch more urgent, more desperate. he span you around to face him, his eyes burning into yours as he pushed you backwards until your legs hit the bed. his hands were on your hips, holding you steady as he lowered you onto the mattress.

he followed you down, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the sheets. he captured your lips once more, his kisses hungry and demanding. his hands roamed all over your body, relearning every contour, every contour of your skin, as if he wanted to commit it to memory.

his beard grazed your skin, creating a new kind of friction as he nipped and sucked at your neck. his mouth traveled down, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your collarbone, your chest, his destination clear.

his hands found the waistband of your pants, tugging at the fabric. you lifted your hips, allowing him to pull them down and discard them somewhere on the floor. he settled back down between your legs, his body pressed flush against yours. you could feel how much he wanted you, how much he needed you, and the fact only served to heighten your own desire.

he continued his journey south, his mouth hot against your skin, his tongue tracing a path down your stomach, pausing here and there to leave a mark, as if marking you as his own. his hands, meanwhile, continued their exploration, mapping out every inch of you, making you shiver under his touch.

his hands were on your inner thighs now, pushing them apart, making room for him. he paused for a moment, his eyes finding yours, dark with lust, almost feral. "i need to taste you," he growled, his voice ragged. "oh fuck."

his words, the heat in his gaze, sent a fresh wave of desire through you. a moan escaped your lips, your body arching in anticipation. you were his, completely, willingly, and you let him know it. "please," you gasped, your own voice shaking with need, "please, alex."

he didn't need any further encouragement. his mouth was on you, tasting you, savoring you, as his tongue flicked over the sensitive bundle of nerves, you cried out, your hands gripping the sheets as pleasure shot through you like electricity. his hands were on your thighs, keeping them apart, his mouth working relentlessly.

"alex," you gasped, your body arching involuntarily as you tried to get closer yet away from the intense sensations he was causing. it was too much, yet not enough all at once. "alex, i can't- i-"

he seemed to understand. he pulled back slightly, his hands still holding your thighs in a firm grip, anchoring you to the bed. he looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours, his beard glistening with your essence. "you okay, baby?”

you nodded, managing a shaky exhale of air. "i just... it's just... a lot," you managed to say, your voice wavering. "in a good way," you added, quickly, not wanting him to stop.

he smiled, the sight of you, a trembling mess underneath him, giving him a boost of confidence. "it’s okay" he said, there was a hint of tenderness in his tone as well. "are you okay to continue?"

you swallowed, nodded again, unable to form coherent words. "yes," you whispered, your voice barely more than a gasp "yes, please. need you more than ever."

he chuckled softly, the sound sending a vibration through you, and then he was back at your core, his mouth working with renewed fervor. the moans and gasps falling from your lips became more frequent, more desperate. your hands found their way into his hair, fingernails scraping against his scalp, trying to pull him closer.

the combination of his mouth on you, his beard against your thighs, was driving you insane. you were close, so close. it was as if all sense of time, space, everything that didn’t involve him and what he was doing to you, didn’t exist. "fuck, alex." you said, your voice urgent, "alex, i’m gonna.."

his name was a desperate plea on your lips. you were hovering on the edge, just a few more seconds, a little more pressure, and you would fall over completely. "please," you begged, your words a mixture of need and desperation. you were so close, right on the brink.

he seemed to sense that you were about to fall over the edge. he redoubled his efforts, his tongue moving with a purpose, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you steady. the sound of your ragged breathing, the gasps and moans, the way you were writhing under his touch, was like music to his ears.

and then you were spiraling, tumbling over the edge into ecstasy. your body convulsed as pleasure washed over you in waves, your hands clenching in his hair, your back arching off the bed. he stayed where he was, tasting every bit of you, prolonging your orgasm until you were trembling, completely spent. slowly, he pulled back, his eyes meeting yours, the smirk on his face showing pride.

your breathing was heavy, your body boneless and spent. you looked at him, his face shiny with your essence, his eyes darkened with a mixture of lust and tenderness. it was too much, and yet not enough. you wanted more, needed more of him. "alex," you said, your voice hoarse, “i need more of you, please...”

he didn’t need any more prompting. he moved up your body, his hands on either side of your head, caging you in. his lips found yours, kissing you deeply, passionately, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. his hand suddenly moved, falling to his pants to unbuckle the belt, letting it fall to the floor. his pants falling after.

he was above you now, the only barrier between you a thin layer of fabric. he was hard, his need for you painfully apparent, and you knew he needed release as much as you did. your hands came up to touch him, running over his length through the thin fabric of boxer shorts.

"ah fuck, baby." he groaned, his voice gravelly as he broke the kiss. he was panting, his body trembling with restraint. "i’m not gonna be..” he didn’t finish the sentence, instead letting out a guttural moan as your hand squeezed him.

you could sense his need, his desperation for release, and you wanted to give it to him. you tugged at the waistband of his boxer shorts, wordlessly telling him to remove them. he let out a shaky breath but obliged your silent request, pulling them down and discarding them somewhere on the floor.

he was bare now, his body pressed against yours, nothing separating you. his erection was hot and hard against your thigh, the feel of it making you shiver. he was looking into your eyes, his expression a mix of desire and vulnerability. "oh fuck," he said again, his voice a ragged plea.

the plea in his voice, the way he was looking at you, it was your undoing. you shifted, parting your legs to allow him access. your hands went to his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. “please,” you echoed, your voice shaky and urgent, “please, i need you inside.”

he didn’t need to be told twice. he shifted, aligning his body with yours, his eyes never leaving yours. his hips moved slightly, the tip brushed against your entrance, and you both gasped at the contact. he paused, his breathing labored, his eyes searching your face, seeking reassurance.

he pushed inside you, his hips snapping forward with an urgency that mirrored your own need. you cried out, your body arching to meet his, your hands clutching at his shoulders as if anchoring you to reality. he was bigger than you remembered, filling you completely, and it was almost too much but not enough.

he began to move, a slow, steady rhythm that felt like both a torment and a blessing. his arms bracketed your head, his body pressing into yours with each thrust. you were both gasping, your breaths coming out in ragged pants, your bodies slick with sweat, the room filled with the sound of skin on skin. "fuck, you’re doing so good." he groaned, his voice thick with lust and need.

"i've missed this, missed you. you feel so good..." his words were punctuated with harder thrusts, his pace picking up slightly, driving you both closer to the edge. your hands were everywhere, running over his back, through his hair, clawing at his arms, desperate for something to hold onto, to tether you to this moment.

his mouth found yours again, kissing you passionately, his tongue mimicking the motion of his hips. it was all you could do to hold on, to keep up with him, to not get lost in the sea of sensations that was building up inside you.

he was everywhere, surrounding you, filling you, overtaking you. his scent, his touch, the sound of his heavy breathing in your ear, it was all too much, and yet not enough. you wanted more, needed more. you found yourself meeting his every thrust, your body arching off the bed to get deeper, closer, impossibly close.

his hands were on your hips, holding you in place, his grip tight and almost bruising. your name was a repeated mantra on his lips, his voice ragged, filled with need and desire. "baby," he groaned, his pace becoming faster, more urgent, "i’m close, so fuckin’ close, i need-" he didn’t finish the sentence, his words lost in a low moan that rumbled in his chest.

one hand moved, his thumb finding your clit, applying just enough pressure to send you spiralling. you cried out, your body arching, your nails digging into his skin as pleasure overtook you. it was too much, too intense, the edge of pain and pleasure blurring together until you were unsure of where one began and the other ended.

he continued to move, his body shuddering against yours, his own release imminent. he was muttering something, words you couldn't quite make out, interspersed with broken phrases and gasps. his name was on your lips too, your voice a mixture of pleas and words you wouldn't remember he thrust once more, then twice, and then he was following you over the edge.

his body tensed, his movements becoming erratic, his head buried in the crook of your neck as he came, his breath hot and shaky against your skin. he trembled, his body shuddering with aftershocks of pleasure, his arms holding you tight against him, as if he never wanted to let you go.

for a moment, there was only silence, broken by your shuddering breaths. his body was heavy on yours, but you didn’t mind, relishing the feeling of him so close, skin against skin. he shifted slightly, moving to lie beside you rather than on top of you. he pulled you into his side, his arms wrapping around you in a possessive gesture.

you snuggled against him, tangling your legs with his, your body molding against his. you felt spent, blissfully exhausted, your body heavy and sated. you could hear his heartbeat, steady and strong under your ear. his hand was drawing lazy patterns on your back, both soothing and arousing at once.

"i’ve missed this." you managed, your voice barely above a whisper, he hummed in agreement, the sound more of a growl than anything. he nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling deeply, as if savoring the scent of your shampoo.

"i think," he said, his voice still slightly ragged, "it's been too long since we last did that."

"yeah," you said, your voice slightly hoarse, "way too long." you laid there in silence for a few minutes, simply enjoying the closeness, the comfort of his body against yours. the room was still warm, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

he was the first to break the silence, his fingers tracing a path down your spine, causing your skin to prickle in response. "you know," he said, his voice a little more steady now, "i missed you a lot while i was gone."

you hummed, lifting your head to look at him. his eyes were still a little hazy, his hair disheveled. he looked so handsome, so vulnerable, it made your chest ache. "i missed you too," you said softly, your hand coming up to trace his jaw.

he caught your hand in his, bringing it to his lips to leave a soft kiss on your knuckles. "i know i don’t say it often,” he said, his voice serious but gentle, “but i love you. more than you could ever know."

you smiled, feeling that now familiar flutter in your heart. "i know," you said, your voice mirroring his seriousness. "i love you too. always."

you leaned in, pressing a kiss to his chest, right above his heart. he groaned softly, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head, keeping you close.

you laid there together, listening to the sound of each other's breathing, the rhythm grounding and soothing. his fingers continued to draw patterns on your skin, lazy and absentminded, as if he couldn't bring himself to stop touching you.

your eyelids were heavy, your body relaxing more and more with every moment. the events of the night, the exhaustion, were catching up to you. you cuddled closer to him, your head tucked under his chin, your body enveloped by his warmth.

he seemed to sense that you were drifting off, his arm tightening slightly around you. "go to sleep, baby," he murmured, his voice soft. "i’ll still be here when you wake up."

you hummed sleepily, not even able to form words. the last thing you remember was the press of his lips against your forehead, and the sound of his murmured endearments as you drifted into sleep.

a/n: i lowkey love this. enjoy it as much as i did writing it

[greetingfromthedead]

16. Hand in Hand

Series: Apple Blossoms Pairing: Knives x GN!Reader Word count: 3.1k

Author's Note: I am back with new chapters a lot sooner than I thought! I just couldn't stop once I started! The love and support for this series on different platforms has been unreal! I am so grateful and inspires me to continue! I am a broken record, but idc, it's all I know to do, I just want to express my gratitude! Another reason for starting updates again is just because I could use some mental support for everything else I need to get done in the coming weeks and updating AB always brings me such joy!

« Previous | Next »

Your hand in his feels so warm as he holds on to it tightly. He turns you, your leg stepping back for his to take its place. His other hand rests on the small of your back, pulling you closer and keeping you in an embrace. He turns you again to the broken snippets of music that sound through this world. Your face is so close to his; in the light of the moons, he can see every speck of color that make up your irises. Like this he could count your eyelashes or every beautiful imperfection of your skin. He could get lost in your face forever. He could drown. His eyes trail down along the slope of your nose to the curve of your lips, where he finds solace and comfort. Everything about you radiates kindness. From the soft smile to your brave eyes. This is everything—paradise.

Knives turns you again, his grip firm, his hands desperate to hold you. Your steps echo on the stones, the starry sky the only canopy to witness this dance. Him and you, that's all there is: the whole world. He spins you, faster and faster, to the sound of an incomplete melody. Knives lets go of your hand to hold on to your waist. He watches as your body leans back, arching gracefully when you reach your hands out to the sides. You're like a crescent moon as the silvery light shines down on you, making your skin glow almost as brightly as your smile. You light up the night like this, illuminating even the darkest corners with your radiance.

The expression on your face starts to change; the bliss gets replaced by worry and anger as shadows start to overtake your features. Your eyebrows move into a frown, your nose seems to wrinkle in displeasure, and your eyes are overflowing with a mix of emotions. You lean closer and closer until your face is parallel to his.

"Half an hour! It's all it took for you to rip your wound apart!" you to yell at him, your voice laced with panic and worry. "You are an idiot! What did you do?"

Your name escapes his lips, a barely audible whisper. He doesn't call you Doc like he usually does, like everyone else does. It is your name he speaks so softly, as if it were a secret to be treasured. His hand reaches out, stained red with blood, to touch your face. Knives's thumb leaves a smear on your skin as he brushes over your cheek.

"You have completely lost it!" you spit out, the anger only growing in your panicked tone, "You better tell me that someone broke in and stabbed you!"

Knives seems to look past you as he lowers his hand. He is unsure if this is a dream or reality. When did he fall asleep? When did he wake up? Slowly, he begins to feel the pain in his side. It arrives like dawn, slowly at first and then turning brighter with each second. It radiates into his stomach and chest, and he looks down to see your hands putting pressure on the bleeding wound.

"Why are you on the floor? What happened? You fool!" You still look for an answer in his face, but he seems so far away; his lips move slightly as if saying something, but no words get formed. Knives's eyes fade further, eyelids fluttering shut until he slumps forward, his forehead finding your shoulder.

"Hey now! Don't pass out!" You call out, but get no answer; only the wind ruffles through your hair from the open balcony door next to you.

Slowly, Knives stirs from his dreamless sleep. His head hurts. His body feels heavy. Pain radiates from his side, creeping outward until every nerve ending in the area is on fire. He tries to lift his hand to reach towards the pain, but he is restricted, pressure increasing around his fingers the harder he tries to move. He opens his eyes, his vision blurry at first as he tries to make sense of the sight before him. Daylight creeps in through the caps of the curtains and casts a glow around your silhouette. It is easy to recognize you even when he doesn't see your face clearly.

"Are you awake?" you ask quietly.

His brain is still too fuzzy and cloudy to comprehend what's happening. It takes him too long to realize it is your warm hand that holds his down. What happened? Why does he feel this way, and how does he find himself in this situation? He blinks rapidly to clear his vision, finally able to see the furrow of your brow and the overly concerned expression on your face like when you try to treat something you don't completely understand. But it is slightly different. You look mad.

"Mind telling me what happened?" you inquire, your tone firm and demanding. You sound so different. Have you used this tone with him before? Knives can't recall. He doesn't even remember enough to answer your question. There was white-hot anger that burned inside him. But why? What happened afterwards?

His eyes move over your silhouette, from your shrouded face, down along your arm until he sees you holding his hand. Knives's fingers curl to slightly squeeze yours. Perhaps to make sure this is real, or maybe to remind you that you're holding on.

"You kept reaching for the wound. I didn't want you to rip it apart again," you explain, restraint clear in your voice. "I found you bleeding on the floor. You scared me! You clearly did it to yourself. But why? Why don't you tell me? I can't help unless I know! I stitched you up again. You're lucky! It wasn't as bad as I first thought. You didn't lose that much blood, and the rip isn't too deep. Why would you do that? Why would you hurt yourself? You set your own recovery back!"

"You're upset," Knives comments while looking up again, his hand still gripping yours.

"Of course I am, you big dumb log!" you exclaim, more angrily than you intended. "I don't want to see you hurt! Is it really so hard to believe? I care about you."

"You care about everyone," Knives sighs, looking up at the ceiling.

"So what?" You become somewhat defensive before turning to a joking tone, "And you messed up my handiwork! Not only the bandages I so masterfully wrapped around you less than half an hour before you decided to ruin it, but you also ripped apart the wound I managed to repair! Did you know that it wasn't just a gash, but you had a whole chunk missing there? You have no respect for my efforts."

"Sorry," he says quietly, but without looking at you. That simple word surprises you; he has never shown remorse so openly towards anything. You wonder if maybe he hit his head before you found him.

Knives's hand still holds lightly on to yours, and you glance down. His skin looks like porcelain, so pale and almost translucent. You can still remember the way they looked, covered in his own blood before you wiped them clean. Why would he do this to himself?

"I will let go, but I swear, if I so much as see you reaching towards that wound, I will not hesitate to tie your hands behind your back!" You scold him, looking at his distant expression. His grip loosens just as yours does. "We will have to stay put for a few days. I want to give you some time to recover before putting you on a tomas again. You're on bed rest until then! I didn't mean for this trip to take so long. I thought we would be home again by now. Or maybe at least be on our way back to Silvercrest. Considering how things are going, I don't trust you out of my sight either."

"Is that why you look so awful? You haven't slept at all tonight," his voice is soft but emotionless; he is just stating facts. "Is that why you look so mad, too?"

"I am mad because you hurt my friend."

There is a long pause where neither of you says anything, your eyes turned away, avoiding the other's. You feel embarrassed for saying something like this to him, especially after he has acted so oddly around you. Knives feels strange because that is not really a word anyone would ever have used to describe him before. Or perhaps you meant something else? No. He is quite sure you meant him. It is the second time you have said something like this. A friend. He feels his chest become slightly tighter again as the flutter of his heart beats a little faster.

"Come, try to sit up. Let's get you on the bed where you'll be more comfortable," you speak softly, your hands reaching out to help him.

Knives realizes only now that it is not a mattress beneath his back, but the hard floor. His mind starts to race as he feels your touch. You help him sit up, pulling on his arm and sliding your hand from his shoulder to his back. Knives tries his best to remain calm as both the pain in his side and the burn of your touch want to contort his face into a grimace that would show too much of his weakness to you. His head only starts spinning more as you lean your whole side against his, putting his arm over your shoulder, and you reach your arm across his back. You try your hardest with him. Knives realizes you give your all with everything, including him. He hears you grunt as you support his weight and haul him to bed.

Two words linger on his tongue. He is so close to letting them escape his mouth. A genuine thank you almost rolls off his lips, but before it can, you step away with a slight smile.

"I'll get us something to eat." You stop by the bathroom door. "Do. Not. Touch. Your. Wound."

With that, you exit his room, your heart beating a little harder in your chest.

Knives is alone again, a massive headache hammering against the inside of his skull. He pushes himself more into the bed and lays back, resting his head on the pillow you returned from the floor. He feels weighed down by everything, as if someone has piled sacks of sand on top of him. He lifts his arm up to look at his hand, the same one you held before. The same one that held yours. It seems significant. The warmth of your hand tug at something in his muddled brain. Your presence didn't leave him indifferent. The anger in your voice and the pain in your face made his stomach drop. He felt sorry for your tiredness and for your worry. Why does he care? Why does the room feel colder when you're not here? Why does his hand miss the feeling of squeezing yours? Why does he feel responsible for something so insignificant as causing you to worry?

He covers his eyes with his hand to shelter them from the light that only seems to make the throbbing pain in his head worse. Does he dare find the answers to his questions? Or should he continue to ignore them, to shove them into the deepest recesses of his mind until they get buried by time? Is he sick? Are these symptoms of an illness he could cure? You are the source of his afflictions. Severing every tie he has to you might release him from this madness, but you are the only guide he has. You drag him along a path where he would otherwise be lost and aimless. You are useful. You will patch him up until his body is as strong as it was before, and you will keep Earth's Forces off his back, or at least keep the locals from alerting the military police. It is not smart to get rid of such a useful tool. So he will endure. It is the strategic thing to do.

Loneliness still creeps at the edges of his mind. Why does he feel alone? He is alone. He has always been alone, with nobody to truly share his vision with, nobody who would understand his views. There has never really been someone to stay by his side. Not his brother, not Conrad, or any of the other followers he had. Their devotion was different. Fear, guilt, curiosity, convenience, misplaced gratitude. He alone carried the burden of his wish that he made for others of his kin. And for what? In the end he was cast aside by the Plants too, rejected by his brethren. Loneliness has never bothered him before. He has never really felt it. He sneered at Vash for his desperate search for connection. So why does this feeling linger within him now? Was it there before, or did it appear only once you left the room? Why does his mind keep returning to you again and again?

If only the headache would stop clouding his thoughts. How has he gotten this lost? Has he wandered too far? Has he followed you blindly for too long? What does it mean for him to be lost? He has nowhere to return to; all the bridges lie in ashes, and every road has been destroyed. He has nowhere to go. He has no more goals and ambitions. Nothing to fight for. With nowhere to return to and nowhere to go, is he completely lost or not lost at all?

Stop thinking! Knives's mind spirals out of control, filling itself with unanswered questions that raise ten more. The whole room seems to spin, and the pain hasn't subsided, neither in his head nor his side. It is maddening. His hand slides across his face, still feeling strangely warm from being held. At first he reaches for his wound, but then stops, remembering your words. You seemed so disappointed in him, your face angry. You sacrificed sleep for him again. Maybe he should listen to you. Perhaps he should do as you say so his wound can heal as quickly as possible. Then he can get rid of you and move on. That thought makes his chest feel heavier than before. Another imaginary sack thrown on top of the others. How annoying.

It is hard to be Knives in that moment. His body feels barely like his own: it is weighed down, it is in pain, and it tingles with the ghost of your touch. It is uncomfortable and cumbersome, not at all like it is supposed to be. Knives can't rely on his strength and power. His mind is muddled by things that don't belong there: doubt, confusion, and most of all, you. His head hurts and spins. Knives can't rely on his brain, his headstrong nature, and will. He has nothing left. Nothing except the empty pit in his stomach. Even pain doesn't mask it. It is a void filled with everything Knives doesn't know or understand: the feeling of loneliness, the wriggling monster that is awakened by your touch, the unyielding need to not seem weak, and so much more Knives can't even name yet. So much is hiding in the darkness of the hollow space within him.

Knives lies in his bed, feeling more defeated than he ever has before, and he doesn't even completely understand why. What battle would leave him in such a state? He tries his hardest to turn off everything that distracts him, choosing to focus on the pain radiating from his side. Silence never arrives in his head, but exhaustion continues to weigh heavily on his eyelids.

When you finally return from your quest, you're out of breath from the stairs and beyond tired, both physically and mentally. You assume Knives is awake as you drag yourself into his room with no regard to the amount of noise you're producing. He lies in his bed, and you're about to say something, but then you notice the closed eyes and calm breathing. He looks peaceful while he sleeps. His face relaxes, no longer busy with keeping an iron mask of composure.

You walk closer, leaving the tray of food on the little side table. The corner of a familiar book catches your attention. It is under the bed. You kneel down to reach for it and pull it out. It is slightly dusty now, and you wonder how it got there. You lay it on the bed next to Knives. Before you can get up, you see his arm shifting; you recognize the motion as him reaching for the wound, so you gently take his hand and pull it away again. It is always the same hand. He reaches across his body with it while it would be easier for him to touch the injury with his other one. You wonder why. You haven't seen him touch his side with the other hand. It seems strange. Instead of pondering for too long, you count yourself lucky; at least you don't have to fight off two of his hands. How would you even do that? Straddling his body and keeping both arms down? Restraining him to the bed? Both thoughts make your cheeks feel warmer. You shake your head, pushing the thought away.

Knives's hand in yours squeezes gently, bringing you back to the present moment. It feels the same as before, but as you look at his face, he still seems to be sleeping. His palm feels warm. His long fingers grip yours lightly, but tight enough so you can't just slip out. You keep watch over him for a little while, still sitting on the floor next to his bed, your hand in his. Knives's sleep seems more peaceful than before. He isn't reaching for the wound anymore. Soon enough it makes you feel somewhat at ease, and you settle more comfortably. You use your other arm as a pillow under your cheek while you keep an eye on his softened expression. The tiredness sinks into your bones, making your body feel like it is made out of lead. Before you know it, you find yourself opening your eyes when the blink lasted too long. And without noticing, you drift off into a peaceful sleep, hand in hand with Knives.

« Previous | Next »

Author's Note 2: I am looking for beta readers for this series! Read more here!

You can check out the Apple Blossoms Masterlist for more info.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

[shhh-secret-time]

We're back with another Soulmate AU request AND another request from AO3, they're so rare these days! I wanted to do something special for Craig, I kind of feel like he'd be a fuck destiny kinda guy. Anyway y'all know the drill.

Warning: Hot Pokemon takes, Strong-Language, Clyde being a dork again

Pairing: Craig x GN!Reader

Crack

"Hm.."

Snap

"Dude. Stop."

Pop

"Dude! Stop!"

Clyde's voice pulls Craig's gaze over, the bored expression on his face would normally make anyone flinch back but Clyde's used to the look. Years of friendship with the stoic man will desensitize anyone to that kind of look. Craig swears it's just because Clyde's an idiot, no one else in South Park takes that kind of tone with him.

"You sound like a glow-stick over there! I swear you've already popped all those fingers a minute ago, are you on your knuckles now or something?" Clyde puts his DS down on his lap with a grumble.

He's slouched so far down on Craig's couch it looks like he's melting into it, the lower half of his body is barely on the couch at all. He's all but holding himself up with his legs while his back rests on the firm cushions beneath him. He looked like a slinky being tossed down the stairs, but if it got stuck going down a step.

"You're in my house." Craig responded so matter of fact.

Then he finished cracking the hand he was in the middle of working on. He presses his thumb against each finger on his hand. Once each little finger makes that satisfying sound, he wraps his hand around the other and squeezes. His thumb and index finger settle just below the knuckles, feeling the muscles and bone shift under his grip a shiver runs down his spine.

"Gaaaaaah! That doesn't hurt you? You're gonna fuck up your hands man." Clyde physically squirms at the sound, twisting and rolling back and forth as if he's trying to escape the sound.

"No. I like it." Craig picks his DS up from his lap and continues playing on the little handheld device.

"Alright but when you have old grandpa hands at the age of twenty-five don't come crying to me. Spongebob broken finger head-ass." Clyde smirks, returning to the game with his friend.

Craig side eyes him, shooting a small glare his direction but it goes unnoticed. Once again, Clyde is lucky he's one of his best friends. Being stupid makes you brave apparently.

The two fall into a comfortable silence, the music from Clyde's DS playing loudly while Craig's is shut off. The sound of both games going on at once drove Craig mad. If the music didn't line up it felt like someone jabbing him in the head. So, he settled for listening to Clyde's, he knew the brown-haired man liked the Pokemon sound track anyway. A small tradition they started in middle school that's held up. Playing Pokemon next to each other on the weekends, if one got Green the other got Red. If one got Sapphire, the other got Ruby. Right now, Craig has Diamond, and he has Pearl.

Craig was no means a perfectionist, but something about the incomplete Pokedex drove him mad. He hated looking at the black silhouette of a Pokemon uncaught, the taunting ??? made him want to spike the thing into the ground. They would spend hours next to one another talking about their teams, racing to see who could beat the Elite Four before the other, making fun of each other's favorite Pokemon. Craig long since beat the game and was just waiting on Clyde to catch up, he was still waiting on Clyde to catch his Slowpoke like he promised him forever ago.

Clyde was a Slowpoke.

He chuckles at the thought making Clyde look up at him with his brow raised but he chooses not to say anything. After a while Craig closes his DS and chooses to watch Clyde walk around the tall grass.

"You're using the Scyther I traded you?" he asks, resting his cheek on top of Clyde's head. Holding himself up right now sounded exhausting, Clyde made the perfect head rest. Even if he wasn't slumped down on the couch, their height difference allowed for it. To be fair Craig's height difference allowed him to do this to just about anyone. The only person he couldn't comfortably do this too would be Broflovski.

"Yeah! He’s my favorite! He's a handsome devil, reminds me of myself!" Clyde tucks his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, the smug smirk on his lips makes his face look stupid.

"Do you wanna evolve him? You can trade him over and we can turn him into a Scizor."

"Nah, then I'll lose all the affection I've been building him with! Look I've got two little hearts by his head! He loves me man!"

"You can build it back."

"Maybe you can toss away your Pokemon’s affection, but not me Tucker! He doesn't need to change! He's perfect the way he is!" Clyde exclaims as he throws his hand in the air.

Craig's about to respond but stops when Clyde encounters another Pokemon, a Pachirisu nothing out of the normal. But what was out of the normal was the stripe on its tail wasn't the typical baby blue, it was a bright pink. Craig's eyes widen as the sparkles swirl around the little animated creature.

And typical Clyde just button mashes through the whole thing, he's not paying attention to the DS, going on about his love for his Scyther. His thumb moves over the attack button and Craig wants to grab his hand to stop him. But once again he's not fast enough, and the low leveled thing is easily defeated by his level sixty something Pokemon.

"Um dude...you know I love hugs and all, but I thought you hated them?" Clyde's voice is muffled under Craig. Craig has him pinned under him against the couch, chest pressed into his side, arm outstretched to grab the DS.

"Dude! That was a shiny! You could have caught that!" Craig's exclaims shaking the man under him.

"What?! Oh man! I didn't know!"

"How the fuck didn't you know?! It sparkled! It's fucking pink!"

"Uh...was it?"

"What?" Craig stops shaking him at that, tightened fists around his collar loosen only slightly.

"I didn't know, you know I'm color-blind right?" Clyde takes the opportunity to sit up, he chuckles at Craig's expression.

Although rare, it's not unheard of. Craig isn't a robot, or a man born without emotions, he just has a hard time expressing them sometimes. Clyde knows that, but it's still funny every time he sees that crack in Craig's usual stoic nature. Even more so that it was over a stupid video game and Clyde's inability to see color.

So instead of responding to him Craig shakes his head and furrows his brows, confusion written clear on his face.

"Yeah man," Clyde takes a breath in between cackling. "I'm completely color blind, lost it when we were in high school. It's my soulmate thing. I see in black and white now." He waves his hand over his face with a dorky grin.

He doesn't respond at first, taking a moment to take in what his best friend was saying. "I just thought you dressed like that on purpose."

"Come on dude! Would it kill you to say something nice to me?! Just oNCE!?" Clyde smacks him with the cushion tucked behind him which Craig uses to beat him back.

After a brutal beat down using a couch cushion, Craig pulls back the weapon and looks down at the defeated pile of Donovan further pressed into his couch. He sits back with his leg pulled up towards his chest, arm thrown lazily across his knee.

"So, you can't see color because you haven't met your soulmate? That sounds rough."

"Yeah, it kinda sucks, it's gonna sound gay but I miss seeing things like the sunset and movies are kinda lame now. I still wear this jacket because at least I know it's red." Clyde collects himself and tries to fix his hair that's been flattened down.

"Hm." A low grunt and Craigs on his feet.

To anyone else it would be the end of the conversation, it would be their que to move on and talk about something else. But Clyde isn't just anyone. He's the guy who's been with Craig since they were kids, he knows that grunt. That shift in body language. Craig's uncomfortable but wants to say something.

"Come on Tucker Bear don't be like that, tell me what's going on." The nickname earns him a glare, but it stops the black haired man from going to the kitchen. He grins at him in return, telling Craig that he's getting what he wants.

"What have I told you about calling me that?"

"That you love it so much and you're so grateful that your best friend would give you the best nickname ever." The sentence is almost cut short from the way he scrambles back away from Craig, holding his hands up defensively. His voice is cracking from the way he tries to keep the giggle out of it.

Craig stops and sighs, his hands come up to the strings on the side of his hat. The frayed yellow rope splitting at the ends from how often he twists it between his fingertips. He does it when he needs to collect his thoughts, figure out a way to put them into words.

".... you didn't tell me you got your Soulmate thing." It finally comes out in a soft tone.

"Are you upset because I didn't tell you? I'm sorry man." Clyde's silly demeanor drops, quickly shifting to one that matches his friend’s tone. He stands up and follows him into the kitchen.

"No. I just..." A pause and he opens the fridge door. Scanning the inside for something to drink, his mouth is incredibly dry right now. "...didn't know. I thought you were like me."

"Like you?"

"Like...born without a mark or whatever."

"Oh."

That's all he can say, all that comes out of his mouth. Craig snaps the can of soda open and takes a sip and it feels like a rock settling in his stomach. His lips press together tasting the sugary drink on his lips. The rock in his stomach lurches up when he sees Clyde's eyes well up with tears, little beads of water spilling from his lids. For the second time that day, he makes Craig's eyes widen.

"Are you crying?"

He quickly goes to wipe the tears away from his brown eyes, the little orbs always looked like a baby cow's. Using the sleeves on his jacket, he sniffles and looks up at him. "It's just- you don't have a soulmate!"

"Yeah, I know."

"That's so sad dude!"

"I guess."

He sobs again, the tears spill faster and harder down his face. Craig sighs and gives into the over dramatic man an awkward pat on the back. The rest of the day was spent calming Clyde down and reassuring him that he wasn't actually angry at him for killing the shiny. They watch a few episodes of Red Racer where Craig describes the colors for him until he got tired of it.

All through the day the conversation gnawed at the back of his head. It followed him to bed and kept him from sleeping. Clyde refused to go home so he spent the night on the floor next to him. Didn't want to sleep on the couch but didn't want to sleep in the bed with him. Wanted to be near but not close enough to make Craig want to peel his skin off. He appreciated the idiot.

But it was that idiots fault he was thinking so hard on this. Why was he born without a soul-mate tic, or thing or whatever the fuck it was called. Were there others like him or was Craig Tucker really that just unlucky? Why did he care so much, he made it this far in life by himself. So why was it just now starting to eat at him?

With a huff he turned and rolled over towards the window next to his bed, staring up at the night sky. The moon was half full today, and it was cloudy out so he could barely see the stars. He was a grown man majoring in Astronomy, he didn't need a stupid mark to tell him where to go and who to be with. He could still see color fine. No flowers were blooming out of his face making his allergies act up.

No, it was just him. Just him and whatever was out there waiting for him. Right now, he really wanted it to be sleep.

Eventually he gave in to the tired behind his eyes, lids so heavy he couldn’t keep them open anymore but burned when he finally closed them. Clyde was gone the next morning when he finally woke up, he left him a text saying he was going to pick his sister up and do something with her.

It didn't matter he had class to get to anyway, the semester was in full swing, and he didn't have time to fall behind. As he gets ready, pulling his blue hat over his head and the matching NASA jacket over his shoulders, he peers down at his DS left on the side table. He picks it up and tucks it into the pockets of the jacket, in between classes he could wait in the lounge and play on it a little more. There wasn't much left to do but he could always grind his team to a hundred.

Once he feels ready, he steps out of his house and starts the walk to the bus stop. Ever since he moved out of his parents the walk to the college campus took a little longer than normal, so it was easier to just ride the bus there. He sticks his headphones in and settles in the worn-out seats of the dirty looking white bus. Somehow cleaner than the yellow ones from when he was still a teenager, but not by much. The music from his DS playing in his ears drowns out the sounds of people mumbling to themselves and whatever other weird thing South Park could throw at him.

It also drowns out your footsteps. Drowns out your question if the seat next to him was taken. So, it isn't until he feels you sitting next to him that he notices you're there. He side-eyes you for a moment, which you return with a little nod. A part of him is relieved when you don't immediately try to make small talk with him. Instead, you offer him a little smile and go back to the book in your hand. His amber eyes travel down to peek at what it is you're reading, and he's surprised when instead of a textbook he sees a comic.

Guardians of the Galaxy

From the angle you were holding it, he couldn't tell exactly what issue you were on, but the cover looked good. He cocks his head to the side a little to get a better look. Feeling his eyes on you, you look up at him and raise a brow. It takes a second, but you piece together what he's trying to do so you close the comic and show it off to him.

You're on an issue he's already read through. He removes the headphones from his ear.

"I didn't think anyone else read the Guardians series." Craig says, it's out of pocket for him to be the first to initiate but the thought of meeting someone who's a fan like him is actually exciting. It's enough to pull him out of his little mental funk.

"Yeah! I just started collecting these issues last week! Have you read this series?" You say with a smile that’s a little too bright for him.

He nods again at you, and that's where the conversation should have ended. You go back to your reading, and he goes back to his game. But it doesn't, you lean over and catch a glimpse at what he's playing. He watches the recognition sparkle up in your eyes.

"Oh, which one is that? Gen four, right?"

"Yeah. It's Diamond."

"Oh! Cool! I've got Platinum! I gotta default to the third one because I don't have friends who play the game!" You laugh at your own joke, eyes going from the DS to his.

Craig stares down at you for a while. He sets the DS in his lap and pushes the palm of his hand against his fingers. Hands popping and snapping again, the little tic making him relax. You don't comment like Clyde does, but you are still talking.

"Gen four has to be my favorite in the series! I just couldn't get into Black and White!" That makes him stop and look at you like you're crazy.

"That's the best one in the series though."

"That's what everyone tells me, but I hated the starters!"

Time slips past him, the way you pull him into the conversation so naturally. It isn't until the bus pulls up to the campus that he realizes he's been talking to you the entire time. You perk up when the bus lets out a sigh and a hiss, telling its passengers that they've reached their destination.

"Oh, this is my stop! Hey, it was awesome talking with you!" You grin and stand up, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

You give him a little finger salute and take off, you're so quick to scurry away he doesn't have time to tell you that this is his stop too. Of course he's never noticed you around campus before, Craig was never one to waste his energy on things that didn't require it. He had his select group of friends and was happy with that, but now here you were wedging your way into his mind. As he stands up to get off the bus, lazily throwing the headphones over his neck, it dawns on him that he didn't even catch your name.

Oh well, so much for that. Maybe he'd see you around.

The universe must have answered that for him because the next morning he sees you on the bus again. He watches as you push past the isle of seats and plop down next to him with another book in your hand. A different issue, a different conversation. There are days where you sit in silence doing your own thing. Then there are days where you talk his ear off and he just sits and listens, occasionally throwing in his thoughts on whatever you're talking about.

But he listens. That was new, normally he just tends to zone out if he doesn't care. Somehow you find a way to make him care, a way to make him invested in the conversation. He even goes out of his way to learn your name and what you're studying.

"Ah it's just general studies right now, a little bit of everything until I figure out what I wanna do. I wasn't even planning on going to college, it just kinda happened." You tell him leaning back in your seat.

"What, so you just woke up one day and decided that was it?" Craig scoffs a bit at the idea but the amused glint in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"Heh. Well Mr. Space-boy not all of us know what we wanna do with life from the womb." You snicker at his reaction, tallying another eyeroll in your head.

"It's Space-Man. I'm Space-Man Craig." He corrects you before moving on, so you don't comment on the little pink hue on his face. "I get that but how do you go from I'm not going to college, to just doing it?"

You smile, it's different than the dorky one you usually shoot at him or the one when you tell a bad joke. It almost seems sad. He can't put his finger on it, but he doesn't need to wait long for you to roll up your sleeve. On your wrist is a font that looks almost like an alarm clock, the block black ink reads "0:00".

"Had this guy I was with. Was with him for six years, we were high-school sweethearts, prom date, whole nine yards. They were my soulmate, the little counter on my wrist told me that much." You take a deep breath, and he watches the way your fingers move across the skin.

He pops his fingers again, pushing them against each other.

"Well, about a year ago I realized...I kinda hated it? Hated the fact this stupid mark on my body got to dictate who I fell in love with? I mean we didn't even have anything in common, and while we never really argued we just had a different outlook on life. I think a part of me still loves him, but...I can't really love him in the way this thing wants me to." You emphasize that you're talking about the marking on your skin by holding it up.

Little rays of sunlight brush across your skin and Craig can't help but follow it. You had a soulmate, of course you did. He feels that rock in his stomach again, weighing heavier than it did last time. The week he got where he wasn't thinking about this whole thing was nice, but now that he's reminded his body tenses back up.

He cracks his fingers again, squeezing the side of the palm.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to trauma dump on you." He raises a brow at you silently asking you what you mean by that. "Call it a sixth sense, or the fact that you pop your fingers and do that little Hm when you're thinking about something. So, I figured you were annoyed by the random dump."

You were more attentive than he would have given you credit for. He hasn't known you that long and you're already picking up on things that took Clyde years to. Then again, Clyde and attentive don't really go hand in hand.

"No, it's not you. It's the..." He rolls his wrist a few times trying to find the words, fingers eventually find purchase on the strings of his hat dangling by his face. "Soul-mate thing. I don't have one."

"Ah yeah, I can see how that's a weird topic for you then! But hey that's kind of cool!" You beam up at him, the sunlight slips off your wrists and onto your lips.

Wait, what?

"You get to pick who you wanna love, that's awesome. That means the connection goes deeper! You gotta build something with someone, nothing telling you to just jump straight into a relationship! No pressure, just you and the other person!" Your eyes are like little stars as you speak. A tiny galaxy that he can't seem to pull himself out of.

Wait, what?

Like clockwork, the bus stops and you go to get up. Except this time Craig is fast enough, he takes your hand. His fingers slip into your palm and stop you from moving. Your finger salute falls back to your side. He just looks at you for a while, the only thing he can hear right now is the collection of people getting off the bus and his own heartbeat drumming in his chest.

"If you're not getting off, I need you to sit down please!" The bus driver makes you flinch and sit back down next to Craig.

"Sorry sir!" You call back.

When you look back at him with a confused look, he freezes again. His mouth hangs open for a second, only to close. He almost looks like a fish out of water from the way he's trying to collect his thoughts. Craig expects you to get back up and tell him goodbye. To run off the bus and never speak to him again.

Instead, you sit there, patiently waiting for him to collect himself. You wait there even when the door to the bus shuts and the engine kicks back on. You look at him with wonder and he has to avert his gaze from you. Pulling his hat over his eyes for a moment because he realizes he's still holding your hand and the heat coming up to his face is too much.

"I... I’m sorry. I just wanted to-" What did he want? His mind was drawing a blank, he was floating and the only teather was your hand in his.

He knew he wanted to keep holding your hand. He knows your touch doesn't bother him like it should. He wants to steal a few more moments with you because these bus rides aren't enough time. Something he's never felt before.

"You're good. Take your time." You can't know what that means to him to hear you say that. To not pull your hand away and call him a freak for just grabbing you like that. Instead, you turn your palm over and give his hand a squeeze back.

"I want to...do that." He says it. With his eyes covered so he's not blinded by that smile on your face. He can hear it in your voice, the way you chuckle.

"Do what?"

"You know what I'm trying to say."

"Maybe. You better say it just so I can be sure." You're teasing him now, leaning forward so you can get a peek at his blushing face.

Craig huffs again, frustration building up in his chest. He moves the hat from his face and stares you down like a showdown. His brows knitted together with newfound determination.

"I want to build a connection past this." There. It's out. Out in the open, out in the space between the both of you. Confession falls from his mouth in that monotone voice he's so famous for.

"Hell yeah. I'd like that Space-Man Craig." You laugh and it sounds so sweet.

He smiles down at you, and it feels like a gift. It's the first time you've seen him look at you like that. You make a silent promise to yourself that it will not be the last time you see it.

"So, any idea where the bus is going now?"

"No idea. Wanna get off at the next stop and walk to campus?"

"Nope! You stopped me from going to class so now you're taking me out. I want food!"

Craig scoffs at you and takes the headphones off his neck, he offers you the other bud. He sticks the one in his ear and pulls out his phone. His fingers slide across the screen going for the music app. He hands you the phone and gestures for you to pick something.

You excitedly take him up on the offer, sticking the bud in your ear. You begin going on about whatever album you’ve been listening to, and the whole ride he sits and listens to you. Nodding along so you know he’s listening, not that he really has to. You can tell from the way he looks at you that you have his undivided attention.

So wrapped up in the music and your voice he doesn’t even notice the font on your wrist change. It’s not that boring clock anymore, it shifts and swirls around. A moving tattoo that eventually turns into a painting melting down your arm. The deep darkness of space with a little astronaut sitting on the moon, just watching the sun.

[abitohoney]

Insatiable

CH5 - Craving You AO3 link

CH1 || CH2 || CH3 || CH4 || CH5 || CH6 || CH7

Vampire Sevika x female reader

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, NSFW

Story Tags: Vampire Sevika, Soft Sevika, liaison reader, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Grinding, Sexual Tension, Biting, Drinking, Smut, Clothed Sex, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Assault, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Minor Character Death, Vampire Silco, vampire Ran, definitely took some creative liberties on vampire lore here, Menstrual Sex, Menstruation Kink, Strap-Ons, Overstimulation

Word Count: 3.8k

Story Summary: As the new liaison between Piltover and the Undercity, you've been guided by the enigmatic escort Ran to meet with their boss- and fearsome criminal kingpin- Silco, as well as his alluring right-hand woman Sevika. You're well aware that plenty of shady things take place in the depths below, but there's something particularly mysterious about these three that you can't quite put your finger on.

AN: This is already in process over on AO3.

When you awoke the following day, not only did you realize you hadn’t asked the questions you’d intended to- not to mention missed holding the actual meeting- you had gained more questions. Yet another night with only tiny, incomplete memories. Memories that blurred with dreams that blurred with visions.

You still had no clue as to why you had now passed out twice on Silco’s settee, but you were starting to suspect Ran and/or Silco were playing a part. Both times you had accepted a drink from Ran. A drink that came from Silco’s bar cart. And Silco’s disinterest in trying to hold the meetings was equally as suspicious. He seemed far too at ease with just pushing them off for another week. Odd especially considering he was paying for half your wages in this deal with the Piltover Council.

Speaking of the Council, they were becoming rather perturbed, understandably so, at the lack of progress. You’d managed to placate them. Explained you’d been experiencing medical problems. They thankfully believed you. Your weakened state, which had worsened even more since your last visit to Silco’s office, was evident in your appearance. You looked as if you’d been bled nearly dry. Skin sunken in and several shades lighter. Eyes dry and bloodshot. Not only your appearance had been so poorly affected though. You spent even more hours in your bed. Too tired and weak to do much of anything else.

Then there was the matter of the marks. First on your neck. Now on your shoulder. Two, perfectly spaced, puncture wounds. As if something- or someone- had bitten you or used some sort of tool. You were aware of Silco’s involvement with Shimmer. His use of the drug in ways that were not most ethical. It had you wondering if he was extracting your blood for some strange experiment. It could also explain your weakened state.

But would Sevika really allow that?

She seemed entirely too concerned with your safety to play a part in that. Maybe she didn’t know.

Whatever it was, you were determined to get answers at the next meeting.

By your next ‘meeting’ you had only managed to gain a fraction of your energy back. Your determination and will were the only things moving your feet across the Piltover bridge to the lift and the subsequent walk to the Last Drop. Determination and maybe just a hint of desire to see Sevika again.

Following Ran up the stairs leading to Silco’s office, you caught sight of the man himself descending the stairs. His attention was on one of his henchmen beside him, but the moment he stepped in front to allow room for you and Ran to pass, you reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Silco! Sir,” you exclaimed, “If I could have just a moment of your time please.”

His cool gaze dropped to where your fingers wrapped around his wrist, then rose back up to your face.

You quickly removed your hand and uttered an apology.

Ran and the other henchman stopped beside each other several steps above, both turned to watch the display with obvious interest.

“It’s been several weeks since we’ve been able to speak,” you started to explain.

“And whose fault is that?” Silco drawled, that teal eye of his regarding you, calculating.

“I’m not looking to point fingers,” you replied. You swallowed, nervousness quickly building under his scrutinizing gaze. “The Council is growing impatient. There’s quite a few negotiations we haven’t made progress on-”

“You can speak with Sevika,” he interrupted, “I have other more pressing matters to attend to.” He attempted to walk past you, but in a moment of bravery- or perhaps stupidity- you stepped in front of him. His undamaged brow raised at your audacity.

“Sir, please. I- I don’t believe Sevika and I are going to be able to solve this.”

“Are you implying my second in command is not competent enough to handle these talks?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. “Janna, no!” you exclaimed. “She’s very intelligent. It’s just-”

“Then I see no problem here. Now if you would step aside before I have you removed myself.”

Realizing you’d pushed your luck far enough, you relented and stepped aside. Before you could resume your climb, Silco paused at your side, bringing his mouth uncomfortably close to your ear. Your breath caught in your throat, heart skipping a beat before starting to race.

“You’re quite a brave little mouse,” he drawled, “I can see why Sevika has taken such a liking to you.”

You slowly turned your head to the side, face coming so damn close to his you could feel his calm breath. You were met with the unnerving orange of his damaged eye. But more terrifying than that was the flash of red in the other eye as it rose from your neck to your wide eyes.

And then he was gone. Descended the stairs without so much as a goodbye. You stood frozen in shock, unable to comprehend what you’d just witnessed. His words nor the way he’d looked at you.

Janna, you had to be losing your mind.

The sudden touch of Ran’s cool metal hand on your shoulder broke you from your daze. You peered up at them, clearly still shaken, relaxed only slightly by the small crooked smile they offered you.

You released a shaky breath and followed Ran the rest of the way to Silco’s office.

“Drink?” Ran offered.

As much as you needed one, you decided to test your suspicion that Ran or Silco may have been drugging you. “No thank you.”

Ran regarded you for a moment, but eventually nodded and headed for the door.

That odd little pause only worsened your suspicion, but at least they didn’t push the matter.

“Sevika will be here shortly,” they said before leaving and shutting the door.

The predictability of these ‘meetings’ was becoming unnerving. It seemed too obvious. Like this was all planned. It was as if you were never really meant to speak with Silco. You were brought here for another purpose. Problem was, you had no idea what that purpose was.

Your thoughts immediately went back to what Silco had said to you on the stairs.

“You’re quite a brave little mouse. I can see why Sevika has taken such a liking to you.”

That memory immediately triggered another. The blue-haired girl. Jinx. She had said something seemingly similar.

“Should I go tell Sevika her pet is awake?”

It had to mean something. But what?

Looking for something to preoccupy yourself with, you headed straight for the gramophone beside the settee. Several records sat in a crate just behind it. You crouched down, thumbing through the records. Silco seemed to have quite the collection. Much of it you didn’t quite recognize, likely before your time. However, one managed to catch your eye.

After pulling the record from its sleeve, you slipped it onto the gramophone. You turned the volume down, not wanting anyone outside to catch you playing with Silco’s items. The last thing you needed was to perturb him any more than you seemingly already had.

With the needle in the track, you stepped back and listened as a smooth, slow song started to play. It was surprisingly nice. Catchy and sweet. Not something you would have imagined Silco listening to. Then again, you had a difficult time imagining such an intense and bored looking man listening to anything really. Probably had more than his share of music from the club below.

You started to sway in place to the music, letting your thoughts melt away for a moment.

Soon enough you found yourself lost in the music, dancing and slowly turning as you let the tune carry you.

Apparently a little too lost.

You failed to notice Sevika’s entrance until you had made a full circle to find her leaning back against the door, a crooked smile pulling at those delightful lips.

You froze immediately, heat rising into your cheeks. “Sorry,” you said with an awkward laugh. “Got bored and a little carried away.”

“Leave it,” Sevika gruffed before you could make it to the gramophone. “I like watching.”

That warmth grew hotter, but you turned to her with a playful smile. “Only if you dance with me.”

She chuckled– deep, warm, and sultry. “I don’t dance, sweetheart.”

“Oh come on. We both know Silco won’t be here anytime soon,” you prodded, striding towards her with a sway of your hips. “Won’t be anyone here to see.”

Sevika remained unmoved, her eyes tracking your hips until you stood before her. She met your eyes. “Not gonna happen.”

“Please?” you asked sweetly, running your fingertips from her bicep down to her hand. “Just for this song. Then you can have whatever you want.”

Her gaze flitted between your pleading eyes and seductive smile. She said nothing, but allowed you to gently pull her hand and bring her to the center of the room.

Eyes locked on hers, you placed her flesh hand on your waist, then gently took her metal hand and did the same with it. With your arms wrapped around her neck, you began to slowly sway with the music, your smile growing when she reluctantly joined in.

You could feel the tension in her shoulders and neck where your arms rested against them. It was honestly so terribly cute to see such a strong, confident woman so nervous. “Relax. You’re doing just fine,” you assured her.

“I am relaxed.”

You had to bite your lip to stop the laughter that threatened to bubble to the surface. She was most certainly not relaxed. Taking a step closer, you pressed your body into hers, hips swaying just a bit more sensually than the music called for. Sevika seemed to take notice though, the tips of her fingers digging into your waist and her pupils widening. With just a little more distraction, you were certain she’d ease into the dancing.

“Sevika,” you asked softly as you peered up into her intense gaze. “I’ve been wanting to ask you. The past two meetings- or rather what was supposed to be meetings- I can’t fully recall what happened. Just bits and pieces. I’m pretty sure you and I-” you paused, heat returning to your cheeks. “-did things, but I honestly can’t recall exactly what. Or how I ended up on Silco’s settee. What happened?”

Sevika said nothing. Merely stared down at you with an ominous look you couldn’t quite identify while you both continued to sway.

“Sevika?” you asked, brows knitted in worry. It was as if she had spaced out.

Her eyes dropped to your neck, flashing that startling red-purple before darting back up to your face.

You watched in awe as her tongue slipped out to wet her lips. She looked…

Hungry.

The song ended and it was as if a switch had been flipped. Sevika immediately ceased her swaying, her grip on your waist digging in deeper.

“Sevika?” you tried again, this time with a hint of worry in your tone.

The next thing you knew, she was pushing you backward. Your eyes went wide, fear and excitement overtaking you.

Your back bumped into Silco's desk, knocking a startled gasp from you and several items on the desk to rattle. Sevika's lips crashed into yours and your hands slipped down her front, grasping the collar of her top to keep yourself upright.

Without breaking the kiss, her hands slid down to grip the back of your thighs, just below your ass, before hoisting you up onto the edge of the desk. She stepped between your legs, forcing them to spread so she could press against the apex of your thighs. She slipped her hands beneath your top, cool metal and warm flesh gliding up your stomach to grasp at your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra. She took the opportunity of your parted lips to delve her tongue inside, hungrily swirling around yours.

You tried to match her fervor, but she pulled away to suck your bottom lip into her mouth. Teeth- two of which felt oddly more pronounced and sharper than the others- clamped down on the plush of your lip, pulling yet another gasp from your throat. When she finally released your lip, she ran her tongue along the length of it.

“Sevika,” you said breathlessly. “Wait! I- I want you to answer my questions.”

Her mouth had already found the side of your neck, sucking deep bruises into the skin and sending your mind reeling. You tilted your head back, giving her more access, silently begging her to take her fill despite your protests.

“You said I could have whatever I want,” she growled before scraping her teeth down and across your throat. Metal and flesh fingers pulled and twisted your hardening nipples.

You whimpered and squirmed, inadvertently grinding against her waist. The ache in your core spread clear down your legs. A wanton moan fell from your mouth. But you refused to give up. Not yet. “I- I know but-”

“I want you ,” she grunted, rocking her hips against you. She licked a stripe from the center of your collarbone clear up your neck, pulling away just before reaching the underside of your chin. She straightened up, her glowing and pupil-blown eyes locking on yours. “I’ve been craving the taste of you every fucking night. Nothing else will satiate me.”

That’s when you lost it. To hell with whatever questions you’d been so desperately wanting answers to. There was no denying her. And you had no desire to.

Her lips met yours again, tongue immediately slipping between your lips. Her hands slid beneath the backs of your thighs again, lifting you up off the desk and pulling your body against hers.

You wrapped your legs around her waist and your arms around her neck as she carried you to the opposite side of the desk. Her mouth remained on yours until she set you back down on the desk in front of Silco’s chair.

You struggled to catch your breath when she pulled away, but she left you little time to recover as she slipped her fingers beneath the waist of your pants and began tugging them down. With your palms pressed against the desk, you did your best to lift yourself up and aid her before she could tear your pants to shreds in her impatient attempt to remove them.

While she pulled them down the rest of the way, chucking your shoes aside, you sat in shock. There was no doubt in your mind that her eyes had that frightful glow to them. It was no trick of your mind. And as she rose back up to grasp your soaked panties, that’s when you saw something new. Something far more peculiar and unexpected.

Her lips were pulled back in a ravenous snarl, revealing two obviously pronounced and sharp teeth.

Oh dear Janna.

She didn’t bother giving you the time to help her remove your last barrier. She slid a single sharp, metal talon beneath the gusset of your panties and tore them to useless shreds in one fell swoop.

The startled yelp that pulled from you was met with a threatening glare. One that should have had you second guessing your choice to be there with Sevika. Instead it made the knot low in your belly pull tighter. You could feel the warm, wetness of your arousal already seeping down the inside of your thighs.

“What did I tell you last time?” she growled, forcing your legs to spread wide as she stepped between them.

Breath caught in your throat, you peered helplessly into her glowing eyes. Your heart hammered in your chest, so hard you swore she’d be able to hear it. “I- I-” you stammered, unable to recall what she could be referring to. Even if you’d actually had all those memories, there was no way in hell you were capable of processing anything in that moment. You swallowed hard, your gaze dropping to those two, sharp teeth again.

Had they grown even longer?

“I- I don’t remember,” you managed to squeak out.

Cold, sharp metal fingers wrapped around your neck, another move that should have sent you running. And yet, all you did was moan softly and allow her to pull your head closer to hers. She leaned in, her wet lips pressing against your ear as she whispered, “I need you to keep that pretty mouth of yours nice and quiet.”

Your hands gripped the front edge of the desk, nails biting into the unforgiving wood.

She stood back up, but only enough to meet your frightened gaze. She teased her parted lips across yours, intently watching your expression as you nearly fell apart right then and there. “Can you be quiet for me?” she asked, lips brushing over yours as she spoke.

Not trusting your ability to speak, you gave her a very small nod.

“That’s a good girl,” she husked, “Now lie back for me.”

You hesitated, hoping to get another kiss from those soft lips before following her orders. They were only a hair's breadth away. You could just lean forward. Take what you want.

You watched her arch a single dark brow. The metal fingers around your neck held tighter. Not enough to harm you, but enough to send your eyes fluttering shut and a breathy moan spilling past your lips.

“Needy girl,” she chuckled darkly, her breath mixing with yours. “You’ll get my mouth. Just not here.”

You whimpered in protest, but allowed her to gently push you back until you were leaning on your forearms. Your eyes slowly opened, glazed over with lust as you watched her take a seat in Silco’s chair and settle between your thighs.

She locked eyes with you, then lifted each of your thighs onto her shoulders.

For as damn impatient as she seemed that night, she took her sweet time sucking marks up along the inside of each thigh. Her eyes only left yours for a moment to admire her handiwork. That, and your resulting arousal. She didn’t even need to say anything. The sinful curl of those lips spoke enough.

Your cheeks burned, but the heat quickly flooded your lower half the moment she ran the flat of her tongue over your weeping cunt. Your head fell back, a soft moan falling past parted lips.

Sevika’s appreciative hum sent vibrations through your throbbing clit. You instinctively bucked towards her face, but the hands she’d been sliding down the tops of your thighs held you tight in place.

Her tongue made another pass, slipping between your wet folds before teasing over your clit.

You gasped, body making another attempt to grind against her face. Sharp nails sunk into the flesh of your thighs, a silent warning to lie still. “I- I’m sorry,” you whined, but Janna, it was damn near impossible to sit still while she used her tongue to tease and taunt you. She merely lapped at your wet hole, kissing and sucking on the soft folds. Just the faintest of touches over the aching bundle of nerves above, but never quite enough.

“Sevika, please,” you begged. You lifted your head, your pleading eyes meeting hers. Her pupils were almost entirely blown out, leaving just a small ring of glowing iris.

She said nothing, simply delved her tongue deep inside you until that wonderful nose of hers pressed against your clit.

“Shit,” you breathed out and your head fell back once again.

She worked that wet appendage in and out, nose bumping against you each and every time.

Your breathing quickly became ragged. The tension drew tighter in your core with every passing second, every drag of her tongue, every brush of her nose. With the muscles in your arms no longer able to keep you up, you let your back collapse against the desk. Your head hung off the edge, leaving you with nothing but a blurry vision of the door from beneath your hooded eyes.

Sevika ran her hands up under your thighs, then pushed them up to the sides of your chest, leaving you completely exposed and open to her. She wrapped her lips around your swollen clit, sucking and licking hungrily.

The closer she brought you to the precipice of bliss, the more your vision started to blur. Drowning in pleasure, all you could manage to vocalize were breathy whines and desperate mewls. She must have sensed your impending orgasm, her fingers sinking further into your thighs as she held them in place and her mouth worked more aggressively.

A familiar, yet indescribable feeling started to wash over you. It was as if something had entered your mind. The room began shifting, rocking like the waves of an ocean. You closed your eyes just as the waves of pleasure crashed over you.

You fought to close your thighs around Sevika’s head as pleasure wracked your body, but she was simply too strong. You helplessly dug your nails into the wood of the desk beneath you, trying to stave off the pathetic cries ripping from your throat.

She relentlessly continued to suck and lap at your weeping cunt while you rode your high, dragging it on longer than you thought possible.

Just when you thought it was finally coming to an end, your body falling limp against the desk, that’s when you felt something pierce the inside of your thigh.

Your eyes flew wide open as pain scorched through your veins, emanating from the points where Sevika had latched onto your flesh. Tears streamed down the side of your face, blurring your vision of the door. You tried to cry out, but with your head tilted so far back, all that escaped was a sharp release of your breath.

Your hands flailed helplessly, trying to grasp at anything you could to stop the pain, but with your legs pinned down and your strength rapidly depleting, you couldn’t manage to sit up to reach Sevika.

Choked sobs echoed in your head as you lay there helpless. Thick, dark red started to take over your vision, slowly painting the door in the color of blood. Before you knew it, the pain was replaced with a warm ache. Pleasure washed over your body just as the red washed over your vision.

You’d been here before. You’d had these sensations before. The visions. The pain. The pleasure.

Your eyelids grew heavier. You tried to fight it. Tried to force them open, but Sevika was sucking you dry.

Sevika.

“Sevika,” you breathed just before giving into the darkness.

CH6>>

[ceescedasticity]

Unforsaken, 12a

(All sections on tumblr)

(AO3, lagging behind but more polished)

Alphsîr and Alphlîn say farewell for the moment in the morning; they mean to go fly with the Geese for the day.

(Celeborn is not hung over, or at least not hung over enough to show it.)

As they set off, Glorfindel waves for Elladan and Elrohir to join him. "I want to come up with a list of all the Ainur-power-related things I did or Elrond did that might be teachable."

They also need to figure out how they're going to adjust group combat strategy to account for big magic swans in the middle of everything — and make sure they don't reflexively attack the orcs.

They also also need to demonstrate the Wizard's Clay again.

Gimli was hoping to demonstrate placing it in rock anyway.

And they still need to come up with those hand signals.

******

Maglor falls in beside Sharlinnu's wagon.

"Oh, good," she says.

"Let's talk about noise."

Sharlinnu has a lot to say about the noise — how pervasive it is, how wrong, how noxious, how exhausting. The ebb and flow of it according to the Dark Lord's moods and fortunes. She tries to mimic it so Maglor can get a better idea of it — he gets how she feels about it, but that's about it.

She talks about seeing the effects of the noise in others, how it manifests in their hearts rather than their heads and twists them up.

She talks about the loneliness of being cut off from the Song, of not being able to hear the trees and the earth and the sky and the Sea, what should be familiar and comfortable made alien and strange.

Then she screws up her face and says, "I have spent more orc childhoods aware than any of the others. But you'll have to bear with me while I… extract the memories from where I put them."

(An incomplete list of aspects of orc childhood Sharlinnu usually works very hard not to remember:

The hunger, overwhelming all reason and feeling and impulse control until you will eat. Anything.

(Dead Men, dead elves, dead dwarves, dead orcs, live prisoners, smaller orclings if the minders get careless, wounded orcs, wounded wargs, orcs who got careless around a large group of orclings, half-rotted carrion, leather clothing, dirt that had blood soaked into it.)

(After relating all those, she struggles for a few minutes before haltingly relating a time when the orc den was overrun and the few escaped orclings scattered each alone in a desolate land, and… she died. Of blood loss. After one of the bites she took out of her own arms hit an artery.)

The horror of maturation inevitably accompanied by pain and deformation.

The complete lack of, of…

Usazila of the Hirnedhrim spent her childhood alone in a pit and came out biting everyone and not knowing how to be a person. Orclings were not left in pits — together in pits they would have killed each other and there really was not the space for a pit each — but that's the comparison that feels right, as far as being raised. Orclings aren't raised. They're fed and guarded and kept from dying until they can figure out how to be a person from whatever shreds of their past lives they can find.

There are a few exceptions, probably. But not many.

"Treating Mist like that would have killed him, probably. But I'm pretty sure it never crossed anyone's mind. Mist was— Even before we realized Mist was an elf — which I thought was obvious from fairly early on, but not everyone did — even before we knew he was an elf, we all thought of him as a child. Children are to be cared for and treasured." She shrugs. "Orclings aren't— No one sees orclings as children. Not orcs, not orclings, not anyone."

"…Are they, though?" Maglor asks.

"No, because they have entire lives of experience available to them and they grow up immediately," Sharlinnu says. "…And yes, because not all of them know that, and…" She holds a hand a foot or so from the wagon seat. "When you're about so tall and can't stand or focus your eyes properly, I think — I think you should probably get to call yourself a child even if you can remember a dozen lifetimes perfectly."

It's probably still easier than talking to Celegorm will be.)

******

Dyn and Gimli, with intermittent assistance from Turgon, Whiterot, Risyind, Zena, and Legolas (they can't all gather at once because there are eight wagons to drive here), come up with hand signals for the following concepts:

"We're ready"

"We need more time"

"Can we get some technical assistance over here"

"Please hurry up"

"Watch out, we're being attacked"

"We need backup for being attacked"

"DRAGON"

"STOP ABORT ABORT WHAT ARE YOU DOING"

"IT'S GOING TO BLOW GO RUN NOW NOW NOW"

"Curse the Dark Lord(s)"

That last one is not expected to be very relevant to the Wizard's Clay-laying; Risyind invents it just to see if it gets around whatever stops the orcs from cursing the Dark Lord(s) generally. It does! At least for the moment.

(Cover your eyes with your hands briefly, then point down with both thumbs, then both pointer fingers, then both middle fingers, etc. — when you've gone through all the fingers, mime retching. Curse the Dark Lord(s)!)

[bunnakit]

last twilight episode 4 thoughts, feelings, etc.

as always, i'm just some foul mouthed gremlin online.

holy shit. the episodes keep hitting us like a truck immediately.

do you think Mhok's hands smell like jasmine? do you think someday in the future they'll lay in bed at the end of their day and Day will hold Mhok's hand gently to his face, press a kiss to the inside of his wrist, and smile because Mhok smells like jasmine from all the blossoms he has picked for him throughout their time together?

sorry, i'm mentally ill. anyway.

the correction from boss to friend, oh fuuuuuuck. and Mhok asking Day if he's coming with - once again as Mhok always does he gives Day a choice and make sure Day is an active participant in his own life. kissing him on the forehead, Mhok you're doing such an amazing job as a caretaker. you're not perfect, but fuck you're better than most trained professionals i've seen to be honest. and Mhok doesn't just turn the radio on for Day, he guides Day to turn it on himself. UGH. UUUUGH.

I can't look at you, look into your eyes, or confront you

Oh. Ough the pain is unending and forever. Day quite literally can't do those things, even if he reaches that point emotionally where he might want to. Life is great because there are so many vegetables you can saute, but also, the horrors.

Once again, Porjai and Mhok's friendship is so important to me. Porjai is just so important to me (ignore the fact that I'm half in love with her fuck she's so beautiful-) it's so important for Mhok to have this support system and this friendship and UGH. I'm so glad there's no fallout from the fight.

AND AGAIN HE ANNOUNCES HIMSELF TO DAY. Mhok does this every single time he returns to Day's side, he very rarely forgets to announce himself to Day. He's so fucking good about it.

AND DAY ONCE AGAIN TRYING TO ESTABLISH HIMSELF AS A FRIEND. AND MHOK'S SMILE. CHEWING THROUGH MY DESK.

I also love Porjai not making assumptions of how she should act, she just asks Day what she should do to make him comfortable. Punching my desk, punching my desk, punching my desk. It's so funny how these complete strangers to Day have treated him with so much more dignity than his own family (however, it is difficult for family to navigate a newly disabled family member because there is this inherent need to protect and sometimes that protection goes too far into coddling, so I don't want to shit on his family constantly. It's a really tricky situation to navigate for the people closest to you.)

His voice is like the scent of cigarettes.

I'm never writing fanfiction again because nothing I write will top this, hey Day what the fuck. I also think this is a good example of Day's major; we know he was majoring in journalism and the sensation he creates here is incredible - and it shows he's still fully capable of capturing the essence of the world, of a story, without his sight. He offers a new perspective that is no less beautiful.

MHOK'S BAG SAYS 'I LOVE TO HEAR YOUR VOICE' RIGHT AFTER THAT CONVERSATION I'M GOING TO THROW UP WHAT THE FUUUUCK IS THIS ALLOWED

Oh, the way Mhok guides Day where to look when he's taking the photo so it looks natural, so he can keep his secret from the general public until he's ready. Ouuugghhhghh.

Oooof. The trophy only having one handle; only one player remains, half of the duo is missing, an incomplete set. And Day can't even read the plaque anymore. He can no longer see his own accomplishments.

This isn't important but the transition from part 2 to part 3 being all Namtan fuck I'm so bisexual.

WHY WAS THAT HAND TOUCH SO SENSUAL- YOU'RE JUST GONNA STROKE EACH OTHERS HANDS LIKE THAT IN FRONT OF MY SALAD???

FUCKING RIGHT THERE ON THE BED WOULD HAVE BEEN LESS INTIMATE. I feel like I'm fucking intruding. Holy shit. Holy shiiiiiit.

Staring unblinkingly at every red flag Porjai dodged. Also want to point out the only times we've seen Mhok get violent has been to protect the people closest to him - even back at the garage. He's never once been violent for his own gain, it's always been to protect.

Oh, Porjai. The circumstances are absolutely shit but there's no doubt in my mind that your child is going to be so, so loved by everyone around them. I just know Mhok is going to adore that kid.

Coming into this scene at the party makes me so anxious. Reintegration into society can be so, so scary. Day has been dipping his toe into it but this is a big, chaotic gathering. This is so scary and I'm so proud of him but like hhhggg makes me nervy.

Ugh I have a feeling Day is going to be exhausted after this. He's already having to field (I don't want to say stupid questions) a whole slew of questions and over the top concern. It's going to be a lot.

"To our blind friend" bro I'm gonna kick you into the sun.

Oh Mhok you want Day to want you so bad it makes you look stupid, I love you.

I knew he was going to sing that song, I knew it in my heart, but it still makes me emotional with the rainbow background. (I also love "I don't sing that well" and then proceeds to sing with the voice of an angel. [What if he actually isn't that good of a singer but it sounds that way to Day because of his affection for Mhok???])

Tell me why my ass is crying at Day trying to see Mhok on his phone, and looking up and barely being able to see anything of him. He wants to see him so bad.

OH NOW I'M GENUINELY SOBBING.

I love that while the show emphasizes that Day can see Mhok in a way no one else can, he still has that desire to see him physically. It hurts and it's so painful to watch but it's just another element of this show that makes it so real. Just because Day is starting to adjust, just because he can gauge a lot about people from the sound of their voice, it doesn't magically replace the sense he's losing and it doesn't make him miss that any less. I'm just gonna blanket apologize for how long these are getting. I feel like I don't have much insight lately rather than just raw reactions but this show makes me feel so fucking much. for my tag loves (just lmk if you want me to remove you from these, or add anyone idk) @benkaaoi @callipigio

[formulaforza]

masterlist

multi-part works

miss americana & the heartbreak prince [in progress]

seasons of love [completed]

bite-sized fics

one-shots

said something stupid, instead of 'i love you' (cl16)

"When you were young, your mother once told you she thought you and Charles were each one half of a puzzle--incomplete without the other. You’re lucky to have him, she told you, people spend their whole lives looking for the other half of their puzzle."

this one and the next (cl16)

"You see him for the first time at a café. You’re sixteen and don’t even like coffee, but your best friend is dragging you in. He’s working behind the counter, flustered and busy, running around mixing drinks and taking orders. "Que voulez-vous commander madame?” He asked your friend, and she ordered. “Et vous?” I don’t drink coffee, you told him. He smiled, goofy, something familiar in his eyes. You noted his nametag, carefully drawn on with a chalk marker. Charles."

you gotta move, or move on (cl16)

"I feel like I barely know you anymore, you said once, on the phone, in the middle of the night because it was the only time you got calls from him anymore. He’s in America, racing with Sauber now and you haven’t been to a single race outside of Monaco." 

oh, simple thing (cs55)

"“It’s dead,” you said, took it from him and tossed it aside. “It’s not nice to pick flowers, Carlito. It kills them.” He burst into tears and your mother scolded you the rest of the way home, even though it was her who always told you to leave the wildflowers wild. After some time and consideration (a plate of dinosaur nuggets, half of Cinderella, and a bedtime story) you’d decided maybe Carlos was right to cry about the dead flower."

blonde hair, lemonade tea (mv33)

"Max has been working in the nursery since the two of you got home from Abu Dhabi. He won’t let you anywhere near it, and makes you wear a mask when you even walk down the hall past the freshly painted bedroom. Each night you think he couldn’t become more protective over you, and each morning you’re surprised to find that somehow, he is." 

strawberry wine (dr3)

part two: everywhere, everything

"Danny also moves around the place like he owns it, which, if it was up to him he probably would. He hums your name as he moves past, taps the opposite shoulder to the one he leans over, reading your textbook over your shoulder. “It’s seventeen,” he quips."

you can take it off (lh44)

"And then there was Lewis, the last to arrive, who never called you kid, who never viewed you as one. He sits adjacent you in the red, high back leather booth and takes up a seat and a half, the toe of his shoe brushing against the side of yours, flashing you apologetic puppy dog eyes every time he bumps against yours." 

if walls could talk (cl16)

"He drags you into the living room, towards the rest of the evening festivities, with his arm tossed over your shoulder. Between that, and the whole let me get your eyelash thing minutes earlier, you’re as close to certain a person can get that he and his girlfriend are still broken up."

caught in a blue (cl16)

"You take a seat on your porch steps. Voices pour out louder, now. They’ve gotten rowdier with every lap you’ve done. A cousin pulls the old squeaky door open behind you, and you jump in your seat, turning around to see who’s busted you. They hold their hands up defensively, mouth a quick sorry like they’d walked in on you changing, and disappear back into the house. You pull your braid over your shoulder, twirl it around your finger carefully. Nervously, you ask: “Do you think we speak too often?”"

blurbs

love letter (cl16) cupcakes (ms47) snowflakes (cs55) carousel (cs55) rainy days (cl16) puppy (ms47) daddy-daughter dance (dr3) furniture (cl16) diamond ring (cl16) lunch date (ms47) it will come back (cl16) coming home (cs55) the nearness of you (cl16) jupiter (mv33) when you're ready (cs55) nowhere in particular (ls18)

social media aus

curveball (cl16) birthday (cl16) vlog (ms47) a bet is a bet (cl16) jpg (dr3) take me down (cs55) summer lovin' (cs55) in the club (aa23)

head-cannons

max and dating lewis and yearning

copyright © 2023 formulaforza and absolutelynotmate-archive all right reserved. do not under any circumstance plagarize, edit, repurpose, or repost any of my original work. this includes fics, blurbs, aus, headcannons, and edits.

[evilwickedme]

I saw in the tags you mentioned spideypool fic recs 👂 I'm listening

breaking the DC streak to go to Marvel because fun fact I've been into DC for six months and into Marvel comics for eight years so

anyway a majority of my spideypool bookmarks are from 2015 and I have no idea if most of them are any good which is an interesting problem to have but I still have a solid list for y'all

Say Anything...Except That - I was following this from the first chapter and I'm now mutuals with the author which was very fanboy moment for me (if you're seeing this, hi!). it has a lot of old school fanfiction.net quirks to it which might be a bit difficult to swallow if you've only been reading fic for a few years, but honestly I think this fic is really good and holds up to this day. it's been a while since I read it last but iirc Deadpool has to protect Spider-Man or Peter from assassination attempts and there's a lot of pining involved. also mattfoggy ended up having a nice arc because this was 2015 and Daredevil had just aired (this is technically incomplete there's one chapter left but if I had to reread it multiple times when there were only like ten chapters you can handle it)

under attack - more fics by people who are wayyy too cool to have followed me back and yet somehow did? anyway this is part of stackthedeck's team red slash series (ELITE ship fyi) but this one is spideypool focused and has some nice fluff. fighting as flirting idk what else to say it's golden

#NoPlaceLikeHome - do y'all know ask-spiderpool? you should it's one of the best blogs on this damn website and a must-read for spideypool shippers. anyway this is that version of spideypool's first time together which is cute :D short and sweet basically. sciderman has a lot of fics for the spiderman fandom in general and their ask-spiderpool au in particular and they're all worth reading

Dissonance - another longfic that took half a decade to write about deadpool protecting spider-man from harm. I actually don't know why this trope is so good peter really can defend himself but there you go

Perfect Enough - ohm y gOD this fic series is so good. this au hinges on such a tiny difference in peter's history but it makes ALL the difference. anyway in this world basically nobody has a functional secret identity anymore except for spider-man. meanwhile, wade wilson and peter parker start dating. so much plot, two separate longfics each around 140k, good luck this CONSUMED my life

speaking of consumed, rippling - this is part of a series called Into the Multiverse and is based on the Spiderverse film so it's Peter B. which I LOVE (spideybpool FUCKS). the series spun out of the authors' other series and it is, in fact, a pain to read the main entries in the series without reading the other serieses which means that I did spend two weeks doing little to nothing except reading deniigiq's work, but a. it was worth b. this one can be read as a standalone! wade jumps in front of a bullet for peter b and he angsts about it I love it

finally ahem speaking of Peter B, did you know I've been writing spideypool fic since 2015 and I wrote one specifically for spiderverse? I'm a mess (but I'm the mess that you wanted) is really a mix of spiderverse and comic canon like, five years into the future, and deals mostly with like, depression and suicidal ideation on Peter's behalf, but hey there's also a plot AND a happy polyam ending which, what else could you want really

anyway sorry the list isn't longer I didn't bookmark so many of my favorite spideypool fics and now they're lost in the void forever :/

[p3rf3ct10nn1nj4]

Fuck you, nobody is sending in asks rn so I'll write stuff for myself then.

For a small explanation to what "insomnia" esk-thing im talking ab is; (i have no clue what the medical term for this is nor do i care all i know is that i deal with it nightly) I literally cannot fall asleep properly unless someone is besides me, there's background noise, and in physical contact with me. If they stop talking or move away from me i kinda wake back up? Again, no clue what this is, could be insomnia mixed with some other shit I've got going on (like insomnia mixing with my autism/adhd mixture) but yea... there's an explanation ig?

Yan-Boys (plus the cryptid that is John Doe) with an S/O who has difficulty falling asleep due to a condition

Jack

Lucky lucky, he's not leaving your side.

Who that's lucky for? Both of you honestly

It gets you to sleep since he'll ramble about how good of a job you did at work today

And it get's him a free pass to excusably pull you closer so you are laying up against him at night

As well as giving him an excuse to lay with you EVERY night (if he didn't have one already)

If you're like me and overheat quickly and get uncomfy when you do, he'll move his hand to different spots during different times if you seem warm

although he does have to sleep eventually

meaning again, if you're like me, you might wake up a little

he'd kinda have that...idk "go back to sleep, it's okay" type of vibe while he's asleep though?

you will end up getting at least semi-decent sleep around him though

i feel like he kinda.. hums a little in his sleep? idk how to explain it because its not like "the annoying girl at a sleepover who makes some noise every other minute while she pretends to sleep and then tells us that she's possessed next morning" (met a girl like that before, it was weird) more of a "you can kinda tell if you pay attention that this is supposed to sound more like a lullaby but its kinda incomplete so it just sounds like random humming"

John Doe

Doe can manage the background noise and constant contact

however while i personally feel that Doe doesn't sleep... like at all

they'd be terrible at keeping a genuine conversation

eventually any conversation with you, if it goes on long enough, just devolves into her complementing you or him talking about things that are not helpful to sleep to

like, if you think sleeping to true crime podcasts is kinda creepy because how much gore they talk about

Doe takes that to like... five levels higher

she'd go into unreasonable detail about teeth and other such things

if you were half asleep you'd have to wake up a little to tell him maybe just switch to complements

they would...only once you tell them that its kinda difficult to sleep to facts like the definition of voluntary apnea or the fact that "drowning" in concrete burns more than it suffocates (may or may not have learned some of these things from killing someone)

the only consistent "conversation" would be the slight cryptic repetition of "I love you" being said over and over but that'd still sound more like background noise

Peter

He's canonically an insomniac, if you really can't sleep he'll stay up with you

although he likes the idea of helping you sleep better

he also likes the special moments you two have with each other during those hours

it's like secret moments just between the two of you

would gladly hold you close, whether in broad daylight or to help you sleep, he'd cling to you whenever honestly

would probably have his phone with him and would play music for you, it'd be quiet but you could still hear it

already knows your music taste & has like... three different playlists with music you like for different occasions

the talking part...it'd be a little bit of a hassle, but compared to the two above, he'd be the only one on the list so far who could talk about normal-ish things

it wouldnt just be a bunch of complements, it could be weather, your ideas on [blank thing; for example fate], etc

[keity-devil]

I have this idea like, two days ago, and now it's here.

Context.

From @breathlessmorro beautiful SCP (Ninjago) Au.

--

After Nine Days After Suffocation

--

The first day after suffocation.

Morro was waiting, he didn't know what he was waiting... Oh, Kai. He still felt awful after that.. suffocation.. that he was forced to do to Nya. He didn't want that, but it happens. It was awful, he didn't think he was ever going to do that to anyone he cared about ever..

Half the day had passed and no sign from Kai. Morro's wind had become choppy, as had his form of air. An equally agitated smile had appeared on his face, a hurt one.

"It's okay. It's with Nya. It's okay.. H-he needs space. To calm down. Yes.. A day or two is fine. Mhm. I can resist.."

The day after suffocation.

Morro felt suffocated, smiling in pain. He flew slowly from one corner to the other, looking at the bars with sadness every time, after at his hands. Transparent.. wounded.. Criminal.

"..With these hands that possess power I made her unconscious.. I hurt her.." His voice broke at the end. "I'm really a monster."

The third day after suffocation.

"I'm sure he'll come tomorrow, I'm sure of that!" He was lying to himself. He knew deep inside, but he still hoped... a lot.

He could feel the soul that was still in him alive, breaking in two. It was painful how the person he cared about so much, loved him with all his heart, trusted him... to hate him, not to talk to him, not to want to look at him at all. It hurt terribly. He could feel a terrible pain in his heart, causing him to fall into a dark corner of the cell and lie there for the rest of the day.

The fourth day after suffocation.

He had not appeared.

Morro listened in horror to the silence around him, from the same place where he had fallen the day before.

'I lost him... he hates me..'

The wind had become cold, sharp, beginning to hurt him, making visible signs on the human side of him that could be seen a little in its incomplete form of wind.

'I deserve it... fully.'

He closed his eyes, letting the depressing, brutal wind in him to hurt him.

The fifth day after suffocation.

A sphere created of sadness, despair, hatred of oneself and other thoughts and feelings that Morro could not decipher, is created overnight in that cell filled with pain.

The wind became uncontrollable and brutal minute by minute. No one touched him or approached at all. They did not know what was happening to him if he had succeeded, but they were interested in his evolution, in the evolution of his inexplicable pain for them.

Surprisingly, Kai hadn't found out about this. He hadn't heard anything about it. If he had, he would have been with him already.

The sixth day after suffocation.

"It's ok.. it's ok! I knew this relationship will not stay.. It's OK!! It's ok..! It's ok..!"

If you went inside, you could feel yourself running out of oxygen. He was cold, sharp, brutal, full of sadness and other negative emotions in him. You could tell that his condition was slowly getting worse. A broken heart is the deadliest, it can kill you easily, slowly... but lethally.

The seventh day after suffocation.

The wind stopped a little. The sphere slowly evaporates overnight. Morro now possessed wounds on his skin, and others would soon accompany them.

The eighth day after suffocation.

The wind subsided, leaving a windless owner with no strength or hope in him. He stared blankly into the outside of the cell.

"Heh.." A small shattered smile appeared on his lips. "He hates me.. hehe.. he..."

However, some of him zealously refused. In his mind.. come as if by a miracle the desire to go to him the next day, at least to see him..

The ninth day after suffocation.

Morro had had enough, having the courage to escape containment. There had been gusts of wind. The gusts were sluggish. They were not fast and agile as usual, they were wounded and easy to catch.

Crossing the hallways to Nya's cell, there.. he had seen Kai with his sister. Morro felt himself suffocate again with fear, but he was also calm that Nya was better.

He approached her, slowly playing powerlessly with her hair.

Kai felt something strange suddenly enter the atmosphere of the cell. He look around for that. Nothing. When he returned, he could see how his sister's hair was lightly beaten by the wind.

He sighed.

He realized who was, it wasn't that hard. He was trying to remember/count how many days he hadn't spoken and seen Morro. Nine days.. nine days. There were many. What if Morro hadn't appeared now? Would he have continued to avoid him?

He sighed again.

"Morro, I know you're here. Come out. You don't have to hide." He said calmly.

The Soul of the Wind perishes for short seconds. It didn't matter how calm or gentle Kai's voice was, how he was.. he was scared. He become visible.

Kai looked at him for a while. Something was... off. But he didn't know what. He couldn't see what was it.

"Morro, I.. I'm sorry I didn't stop by your cell. I wanted to calm down.. I knew that my sister's suffocation was not intentional, it was forced.. but I felt like I was getting mad there."

'Because of me... It's my fault!'

"Angry that you were forced to do this and because Nya was in pain, not at you." He finishes, now looking at Morro's own scared and guilty eyes. "No... don't tell me you thought- Morro.. Oh no, no, no! I'm not angry at you, hey."

Morro could no longer control his emotions. No longer hearing the voice of his love, he wanted to cry there, to run, to disappear from the face of the earth. That's not because of his destabilized emotions.

The wounds were visible. Kai hadn't noticed them, he was too worried about Morro's emotional state. But Nya.. YES. She put her hand to her mouth in shock, she couldn't believe what she saw.

"Morro," Kai continued.. until he looked closely at Morro's appearance. "What.. what happened to you..?! Why- " He had taken his hands, still looking at the wounds. "You would... no.. you wouldn't do that. You wouldn't do that. Right? Morro, right? Right?!"

Morro looked down, nodding. Kai felt that he had made a huge mistake to stay away from his love for so long, especially after what happened...

"Nya.. can I.."

"Of course. Go." Nya understood what he wanted to say, and she agreed. He also wanted Morro to be emotionally well.

"Thanks."

He took his boyfriend from one place to another. Kai sat down, and Morro sat down next to him. He would usually put his head on the fiery shoulder and hold his hand. But now Morro was afraid to do it. What if it hurt him too? He would not forgive himself till his death.

Kai took Morro's hand in his, squeezing it slowly. "Hey, I love you. I'm not leaving you, I'm here.. with you."

Morro stared at him, feeling that pain in his heart again. He leaned over Kai, slowly tucking his head under his neck. The gusts of wind were just as weak.. but gentle.

"Everything's fine.. okay?"

Morro approves with a kiss, after.. they start to enjoy each other..

After Nine Days After Suffocation.

[moonflowerlesbians]

Jamie is trying to ignore the new au pair. She doesn't need to fall for this beautiful and straight girl. But then Flora asks her to clean the pool after months without using it because "it's a perfectly hot and beautiful day and we need to have a pool party. And you're invited too".

Dani. The pool. Bikini. Jamie doesn't know how to react to this, so she decides to keep ignoring her. But she can bet Dani is looking at her... A bit too much.

took me a second but I offer you almost 3000 words as penance. also I sort of extended it because it's apparently impossible for me to write pure fluff.

AO3 link in reblog if that's your preference :)

~~~

“Ah, yeah, it’ll be perfectly splendid,” Jamie grumbles between pants, yanking the tie of the pool cover over one shoulder with a huff. “Sure, perfectly splendid to swim in. Have t’ get it clean first. Can’t just jump in.”

At half eight in the evening, she’d been trying to beat the bizarre heatwave that had befallen the English countryside, but she’s failing rather spectacularly if the moisture gathering at her hairline is any indication. She swipes an arm across her forehead and listens to the faint chatter from the open sitting-room window, where the other grown members of the household bask in the glorious company of electric fans. Meanwhile, Jamie swelters away the evening spraying down pool filters and vacuuming leaves from the tile floor because someone had the bright idea to remind an eight-year-old that she has access to a pool.

“Oh, please, Jamie, please!” Flora had pleaded, practically bouncing out of her seat at the dinner table and coming terrifyingly close to tipping several drinks onto Hannah’s pristine tablecloth. “It’s dreadfully hot and a beautiful day, and we simply must have a pool party.” She had gasped so abruptly that Dani nearly dropped her fork, Jamie noted with a subtle grin. “We’ll all have a pool party! And Owen can make sandwiches, and Mrs. Grose can bring picnic blankets, and you must come, too, Jamie, won’t you please?”

Then Jamie had made the poor decision to lock eyes with Dani from across the table. The desperation plainly written across her face had been enough to convince Jamie to concede with a faux exhale of annoyance.

Thus, the weary gaze of a haggard au pair run ragged by herding two children indoors is the reason Jamie finds herself skimming the pool’s surface for any leaves and algae that managed to weasel beneath the cover when she should be driving home.

“Sorry,” a voice comes from behind her, “I’m the one who planted the idea in her head.”

Jamie turns to find Dani, a glass in either hand, peering at her with the expression of a woman who is half-tempted to change places and take up the skimmer herself simply to have a moment to herself.

“S’alright, needed to be done anyway. Won’t be ready until at least tomorrow,” Jamie sighs, accepting the proffered glass with a grateful nod. “Kids tired of being cooped up?”

Dani puffs out a laugh that says, you don’t know the half of it. “You’d think they don’t have a house the size of my old school to explore.”

“Bet they haven’t even found half the secret passages,” remarks Jamie over the smooth rim of her glass. Dani sips from hers, and Jamie endeavors to ignore the bob of her throat as she swallows.

“The what?” The wrinkles that appear on Dani’s forehead are surprisingly charming. Too charming. Jamie shoos the thought away before it can land.

“C’mon, Poppins. House this size? This old? There at least have to be servants’ tunnels.”

“Have… have you found any?”

Jamie hums noncommittally, noting the way Dani shifts her weight on her heels as if she cannot bear the thought of standing still. “Did you come out here just for this?”

“Partly, yes, but,” she lowers her voice, “I really just needed to get away from the kids for a few minutes. Owen’s got them playing a board game, thank God, and after that, I can put them to bed. I adore them, but sometimes…” she shrugs.

“We all need space,” Jamie finishes, a bit more brusque than she intended, which she chalks up to the evening hour and the heat, and Dani takes a step back. Shit. “Meant to say,” Jamie salvages with a wince, “it’s nice to be alone sometimes.” She grimaces, doing her best to focus on the cool glass in her hand rather than the heat in her face and the flutter low in her belly.

“I know what you meant,” Dani says softly. Then, after a moment’s pause spent glancing from Jamie to the pool and back again, “You need any help out here?”

Jamie raises an eyebrow. “Lookin’ for excuses to avoid work, are we?”

“No, no, I, um… No?”

“Relax, Dani,” Jamie chuckles, setting her empty water cup down in the grass. Dani visibly settles. “If you’d like to drag the garden hose over, we’ll need to rinse the filters.”

“Got it,” Dani says seriously, and she practically marches to the nearest hose rack as Jamie watches with a quirk of the lips. The au pair completes tasks as if the world will fall apart if they remain incomplete a moment longer. It’s a quality Jamie admires in her, the passion and fervor with which she undertakes the seemingly mundane tasks in her life. Jamie also finds herself mildly amused by the way Dani stalks across the property like she might break into a run at any moment, always on high alert. Always tense.

Might be nice to see her take a full breath for the first time in her life.

Might be nice to see her at ease.

Might be nice to see her relax.

Very nice, indeed, it turns out.

Almost too nice, two days later, the way Dani lounges on a patio chair she’d dragged to the poolside, with a book in her hand and one leg propped on the seat.

Too nice, the way her hair looks beneath a sun hat, casting dappled shadows over the tip of a tongue poking out between pursed lips as she turns a page.

Too nice, the way she lowers her sunglasses over her nose to keep an eye on the children splashing and shrieking in the water.

Too nice, in fact, far too nice for Jamie, who tries and repeatedly fails to keep her gaze off pale, freckled skin and eyes as blue and clear as the water. She can’t sit still. Can’t seem to cease the bouncing of a leg or the rote twirling of hair between twitching fingers. Can’t seem to stop flitting from superfluous task to superfluous task long enough to catch her breath, stolen against her will each and every time she catches a flash of exposed skin dancing in the midday sun.

But the worst part, by far, is when she looks at Dani… Dani is looking back. Four times now, Jamie has cast a fleeting glance at the lazing au pair only to find her peering at Jamie with equal intensity.

Odd, Jamie thinks, fiddling with the stem of a bush a few meters away from the pool, to catch Dani staring so often. But coincidences have been stranger, she decides, chalking it up to amicable concern. She can’t allow herself to dwell on the occurrence. Too many possibilities that open doors to too much trouble. Far more trouble than Dani is worth.

But what if… a niggling voice at the back of her head chides.

No, Jamie reminds herself with a mental kick and an outward shake of her head. She had a fiancé.

Hannah sits with her trousers rolled to her knees, ever one for modesty, with her legs dangling in the shallow end of the pool, while Owen and the kids do everything short of pulling the poor housekeeper in the water to utterly drench her. Hannah, to her credit, is taking their antics in stride, no doubt due to the mustachioed mastermind currently huddled with two overeager children.

The promise to Flora had been a pool party, and, never one to give up on her goals once they were set in her mind, the girl had hounded the adults with unrelenting chipperness until, one by one, they had been worn down. Which is surely the only reason Jamie hovers at the edge of the pool deck in an oversized t-shirt tied at the waist and old running shorts--the only sort of swimsuit she could throw together on short notice.

“Thought I might get in. Care to join me?”

Slender legs enter Jamie’s field of vision, then Dani is only paces away, a hand resting on one hip. She’s removed her hat, left to save her empty seat, and her sunglasses rest atop her forehead, pushing her hair out of her face and onto her shoulders. Her cornflower-blue swimsuit hugs her figure, and Jamie forces her eyes up, her throat terribly dry. She swallows thickly.

“May as well.”

Dani leads the way to the water’s edge, dipping one painted toenail into the water and producing a satisfied noise. She turns to Jamie standing a few feet behind and sweeps the sunglasses from her head, shaking her hair out. “Hold these for me?”

Wordlessly, Jamie delicately grasps one temple of the white plastic frame as Dani steps forward, her arms over her head, hands meeting in a V-shape. The hidden muscles in her back ripple, and she executes an elegant plunge into the pool, emerging with a gasp and a whoop of elated laughter. A smattering of applause rises from the opposite end of the pool, the others having apparently stopped their scheming long enough to watch Dani’s flawless--at least in Jamie’s opinion--swan dive.

“Oh, Miss Clayton, that was splendid!” Flora’s shrill voice chirps.

Hannah remarks, clearly impressed, “I had no idea we had a professional in our midst."

“I’d hardly say professional,” Dani says with a modest roll of her eyes. The water swirls where she treads. She pushes water-darkened hair from her eyes. Then, to Jamie, she explains, “I was on the community pool swim and dive team for a few summers before I could get a job.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Jamie replies. She passes the sunglasses to Dani’s outstretched hand and takes a seat on the sun-warm grey concrete at the edge of the pool. Dani swims up and places crossed arms beside Jamie on the deck, resting her chin on the intersection and looking up at Jamie. Lean legs kick out behind her into crystalline depths, and golden sunlight refracts in the water, bathing beneath the surface in an ethereal glow.

“You’re not getting in?” Dani asks.

“Not the biggest fan of water, if I’m honest,” Jamie confesses nonchalantly, as if by some miracle this admission will end the conversation.

No, Dani’s desire to learn, to understand, is far too intense for that. It’s another quality of hers Jamie admires, even if it feels as though she’s laying herself bare by sharing the tiniest details under her scrutiny.

“I knew plenty of kids afraid of the water back in the day,” Dani says easily, tracing lines in the small puddle that has formed from the droplets on her skin, “it’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“‘S not that. I just,” Jamie searches, somewhat defensively, struggling to convey the message without saying the words that reveal a weakness she is loath to expose. Her silence evidently speaks volumes.

“Jamie,” Dani says quietly, a furrow forming between her brows, “can you swim?”

Damn those observant eyes, that sharp mind.

Jamie looks away, shrinks just a little, scoffs with false bravado, “‘Course I can swim.” Then, “Can paddle… float….” Heat rises in her already flushed cheeks, and she picks at the skin surrounding the cuticle on her thumb.

“It’s… You know it’s okay if you can’t, right?” And Dani’s voice is soft, so soft, a murmur really, a whisper that makes Jamie’s heart ache. It keeps the sound from carrying across the pool as it does hold Jamie in her destitution.

She thinks back to a childhood of coal dust and dirty sofa beds and scavenging for food. Thinks of summers spent doing odd jobs to pay the rent, of sleeping on the porch because it was cooler out there than in the house. Thinks of covering herself with as much clothing as she could despite the rising temperatures to fend off roving eyes, to appear a larger threat than a scrawny eleven-year-old girl actually was. Thinks of boiling pots and scalding showers spent scrubbing her skin clean, as though maybe if she rubbed hard enough, the memories would wash away with the grime. Circle the drain once, twice, and disappear forever.

“Never really learned, I s’pose,” Jamie forces a weak laugh. “Didn’t have anyone really keen on teachin’ me.”

Dani is quiet for a moment. “I could.”

“Could what? Teach me? ‘S not your problem to worry about, Poppins.” The thought nearly sends her mind into overdrive. Nescience of an essential life skill is ignominious enough, but to have Dani bear witness to the reality is unthinkable.

“Well, sure it is,” Dani shakes her head, affronted at the mere notion. “What would we do if you fell in and drowned? Someone needs to keep Owen in line.”

Jamie notes the ‘we’ in her statement. We need you. Not I. Distinctly not I, Jamie repeats to herself. She fidgets with the knot in her t-shirt.

“Already told you I can paddle. I’d be fine.”

“Still.” Dani is staring up at her with a pointed look. She has the glint in her eye that Jamie recognizes from the instances Dani deems it necessary to hold her ground with Miles or persuade Flora to clean up her dolls at the end of a long day. She will not give in.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Jamie raises an eyebrow, approaching Dani’s determination as one might a chest of buried treasure, hesitant, disbelieving, a bit curious.

Dani shakes her head again, the ghost of a smirk upturning the corner of her lips.

A beat, during which Jamie’s thoughts wage war amongst themselves. One team screams at her to take the opportunity to spend time with the woman that another batch reminds her is not interested in the least. Another group acknowledges the practical benefits of developing a skill beyond aimless paddling, while another still acknowledges the persistent flutter in her stomach.

At last, “Reckon you’ll be putting that fancy teaching degree to use again,” Jamie acquiesces with a sigh. “Doubt this is what you signed up for, though.”

“I know exactly what I signed up for.” There’s a mischievous lilt to Dani’s words that sends a bolt of feverish perplexion through her. Dani pulls back from the side of the pool and holds out her hands. “We can get started right now.”

Jamie must look as if she’d rather snip off a finger with her garden shears than get in the water because Dani laughs.

“Or not,” she says with a sincere smile, and she ducks back under the water before popping up at Jamie’s feet, wiping the water from her eyes.

“I’d rather not embarrass myself in front of the kids,” Jamie says with a chuckle. “Lord knows I’ve never done that before, and I don’t intend on starting now.” It’s a half-truth. The real issue stems from the moderately disconcerting realization that breathing on land is hard enough with Dani so close, and Jamie really isn’t keen on finding out what will happen if she tries to slip underwater.

A brief flash of her sputtering to the surface, limbs flailing in all directions, crosses her mind, and she shakes it away.

A whooping from the opposite end of the pool catches her attention, and she looks up.

It seems whatever Owen and the children plotted had worked. Hannah is, much to her presumed consternation, sopping wet from head to toe, though she merely wrings out her blouse and kicks a lighthearted splash back at the children, who, having completed their mission, slink out of the pool and wrap themselves in paisley towels.

“Finished already?” Dani calls, and Flora nods from the deck, a yawn splitting her face despite the clock only reading three in the afternoon. “I’ll be right there!” She turns back to Jamie, says softly, “Another time?”

Jamie nods. “Another time.”

Then, Dani is off, gathering her things and herding the children back across the stretch of grass and into the house, leaving Jamie to watch in delirious bewilderment as her heart pounds far faster than it ought to, given the situation. And yet, Jamie cannot fault it, nor can she calm her racing pulse, though she tries.

Dani is the cause, she knows. Dani is always the cause, and no amount of fervent internal reminders seem to dull her effect. No incalculable quantity of mutterings about ex-fiancés will stop Jamie’s breath from catching when Dani settles down for dinner. No collection of whispered slim chanceswill convince a weak heart to cease its clamant pattering at the sight of a column of silky skin. No platitudes can dissuade Jamie’s longing soul from going against her better judgment, from going against her learned experiences that say this will only lead to heartbreak.

Love is sink or swim, she has learned, and Jamie has been treading water, head just barely above the surface, for far, far too long. Dani has offered to hold her hand, quite literally, to guide her through the risk, if only Jamie will make a move to reach out. Perhaps… Perhaps, Dani can guide her to shore to rest among sand beaches and good company. Perhaps, Dani will not let go along the way.

Another time, then.

Another time, yes. But soon. Soon, because Jamie is rapidly growing weary of condemning her wayward heart to fruitless excitement, of shutting a thing down before it can even begin, like cutting down a sapling before it emerges from a seed.

It’s sink or swim, and, at last, Jamie chooses to swim.

[ssa-sugar-tits]

Last Words

Request: this one

Spencer Reid x Reader where they both get shot and think they’ll die in eachothers arms and confess feeLinGs and than wake up in the hospital👀

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Bau!Reader

Content warnings: near death, blood, gunshot wounds, hospital, murderer mention

"Put your hands where I can see them." Spencer inches closer and closer to the unsub while you cover him from behind. You know you should've waited for backup, but you couldn't risk letting this guy get away. First mistake.

"Bryce, my name is Agent Y/L/N. We just want to talk to you about what you did. Put the gun down like Dr. Reid asked and we can do this peacefully."

What was certain from the profile was that he wouldn't give himself up, no matter what. You and Spencer decided to stall him until the rest of the team got there. Second mistake.

"We know what your mother did to you. It was awful, nobody deserves that. But killing these women isn't the answer. Agent Y/L/N is right, you can still turn yourself in."

The profile didn't give much to go on. It was incomplete and you went to apprehend him anyway. You didn't even consider a partner. Third mistake.

"You killed those women because they-"

You're cut off by the gunshot that pierces your shoulder from behind. You collapse and the world starts to blur. You feel like... well like you've been shot. All you hear are your own screams and Spencer's as he runs to your side, somehow momentarily forgetting there are two psychopaths with guns in the room. Only focusing on you.

"Y/N!" You could see his heart shatter. Tears well in his eyes and he cradles your head in his hands. Crimson blood soaks his vest and covers his arms while you fight to stay with him. He murmurs frantically, voice breaking and heart racing.

"You're going to be okay Y/N. I'm going to get help. You're going to be just fine."

That's when the second unsub laughs and you both turn, suddenly remembering the rest of the situation.

"No Y/N you aren't. And neither is Dr. Reid."

Spencer's grasp on you tightens as she points the gun at him and fires again. His body weight all falls beside you and he struggles, trying to grasp at his phone but it slips right out of his blood soaked hands. Both of your blood starts pooling around you and the two unsubs leave you there to die. Laying on the ground, covered in each other's wounded final state, you know what you have to do.

"Sp-Spence..." Doing your best to ignore the worst pain you'd ever felt, you groan and position yourself to face him. Even in the face of death he was so beautiful. You'd never guess he was thinking the same thing about you while holding on to his final breaths.

"Sa- agh!... Save your... e-energy Y/N." He starts to cough and blood trickles down his jaw. Your chest is tightening and the metallic taste stabs at your tongue, threatening to worsen by the second.

"I... I love you. A-Always have..." You finally admit it to him, after so long. His eyes meet yours weakly and he moves his hand to cup your face. The movement prompts a pained groan from him and a series of soft whimpers.

"I love... I love y-you too. God, I-I always did..."

Trying to muster a smile, you fail and cry his name out of fear.

"Sp-Spencer..."

This is the end. You're forced to accept that this is how you die, on the field in Spencer Reid's arms. There are worse ways to go. Using all the strength he has left, he brings his lips to yours. It's soft. Fragile and delicate at first but quickly escalates. You both scream and wince against each other but this is the last chance you'll ever get to do this. Your mouths meet again, this time Spencer brushes his tongue against your bottom lip begging for entry. Tongues dancing around each other, tasting each other and tears melting together. The two of you try to messily proclaim all the unsaid passion, intimacy, and tension that's built up over the years. Trying to say everything never said in one kiss. Arms wrapped around each other and melting into one another, everything goes black. Spencer's the only one still somehow managing through the pain, his eyes still fluttering barely open. Resting his head against your forehead wishing you'd done things differently. Until the world goes black for him too.

Your eyes open and immediately shut, the bright light blinding you.

"Oh shit. I think I'm dead."

Emily's laughter echos through your ear and you realize you're in a hospital. More alert now, your eyes dart around the room looking for Spencer.

"Where's Reid? Did he make it? Please tell me he did Em."

"Slow your roll babes. He's in the next room, behind that curtain." She motions to a divider hanging in the room. "Morgan's sitting with him. JJ, Hotch, Rossi, and Penelope are outside. I should let them know you're up. I'm glad you're okay Y/N."

"Wait what about the unsubs?" You ask before she goes.

"We got them, I'll explain later. For now though, after the others come and see you we'll let you get some rest." She smiles and goes to get the team. You're peppered with phrases of relief, hugs, and smiles but Spencer still hasn't woken. After what seems like hours, JJ whispers with a nurse and the divider is pulled back. You look at the man you proclaimed your love to while you thought you were dying in his arms, who to your disbelief loved you back. He's the first to speak.

"We have a lot to talk about, don't we?"

"You mean our love confessions and half dead makeout session?"

"Technically the half dead thing isn't entirely accurate, but... yes that is what I was referring to."

"Well now that we're not dying. Take me to dinner?"

Slightly grimacing and rubbing his shoulder, he grins at you.

"I'd love to Y/N."

[primordialsquirrel]

Sunshine in the Night pt.4

  It was futile to push through the crowds of students, but you still tried to weasel your way into the heart. There were reporters and students all swarming the front gate, all trying to get into the school for some reason or another.

You just wanted to get through and find your friend.

Somehow you managed to slip between the heated bodies and ran past your fellow students, ignoring their confused faces as you raced up the stairs to the 1-A classroom. You are out of breath, heart thudding against your ribs as you see the students mingling outside the doors. Some were already inside while others lingered outside, talking amongst themselves. Few had signs of injuries, most looked completely fine. The only sign of something having gone on is the vaguely haunted look in the students eyes, the way their eyes shifted about.

You hold a hand to your chest, panting and gulping in breaths. “Toko- Tokoyami!”

A student looks your way, her golden eyes bright compared to her black sclera. “Tokoyami?”

You try again, tears in your eyes, the panic rushing up your throat and curling around your vocal cords like a fist. “Tokoyami! Is he okay?”

The pink skinned girl jogs to you, placing a comforting hand on your back. “Woah there! It's okay. He’s not here yet but he's okay.” She frowns, “This is about the attack two days ago right?” They had closed the school the other day, wanting to go over security protocol before letting the students back on campus.

You nod. Any embarrassment you might have felt about acting so strongly- or strangely to some- was overrun by your worry for your friend. You had been hanging out with him more often, his presence always soothing. He acted dark and mysterious, but he was sweet and courteous. He never judged you when you spoke passionately about your interests, or had too many questions, or even the rare times you had nothing to say at all. He was a good friend.

Hearing about the attack on the U.S.J. with the students of 1-A being at the center of it all shook you to your core. You hadn't thought to exchange numbers with your friend so you had no way of knowing if he made it out safely.

"Look- my name is Mina Ashido by the way- you can stay here with me until he gets here okay?" She strokes your back soothingly, something you greatly appreciated. You were a stranger to her yet she treated you so kindly. Later on you would be thankful Tokoyami had such a nice girl in his class.

"Thank you." You tell her your name, your breath now evening out as you wait for the familiar face of your friend.

Mina moves the two of you closer to the wall to keep from blocking the door for the other students. She twiddles her thumbs before speaking up. "So, are you and Tokoyami a thing?" She questions in a playful tone.

"Us?" Your mind blurs. "No- we- we're friends. We only met this semester. I hope we're close but I don't think we know each other well enough for that." You didn't mind her question. In elementary when you were but a shy wallflower, it would have sent you into a blushing fit. But you've grown from that! Still, you felt your heart race just a bit at the thought of your chivalrous friend having some affection towards you.

“Do you want to know him more? So you can be like that?” She hints with a small smile. It was a small nudge. A sly suggestion.

Did you? Well, you could imagine it. He was a good person, a very good person if what you had learned so far had anything to say.

But there was something that held you back from exploring the idea any further.

“Maybe.” You respond quietly, eyes on the floor, hands now gripping the strap of your satchel. “I- I'm just afraid I'm not enough.”

“What do you mean by that?” She asks. But before you can answer her, she nudges you gently on the ribs, pointing to the end of the hall. “There he is!” She cups her hands over her mouth. “Tokoyami!”

The boy startles, his gaze first going  to Mina before snapping to you. His sharp eyes immediately soften. He quickened his pace, reaching you in a matter of minutes.

“Is there something wrong?” 

Rather than answer him you take hold of his hand and twirl around him, lifting each of his arms, searching for injuries. There was nothing, luckily, as you heard a few students had been in the heart of the battle as well as the homeroom teacher being badly injured. 

You exhale a sigh of relief and lower his arm. “You're alright.”

“You were concerned over my safety?” He inquires. “I was away from the heat of the battle, safe for the majority of the fight.” 

Calm washes over you, your shoulders losing their tension. “Thats good..” 

The bell rings, signaling class was to begin soon. You look to the stairs behind you, knowing your class was rather far from his. “I have to go, but I’m glad you were- are safe.” Remembering the pink skinned girl next to you, you quickly add, “And you too Mina.” 

The girl laughs, knowing you had forgotten she was there, but she wasn't offended. Watching your interaction with the boy in front of you both was amusing for her. He acted so aloof in class, it was sweet seeing him invested in another person. 

Tokoyami reaches out to you, his hand lowering from reaching for your shoulder, to your hand, then to his side. He clenches it into a fist. “I will see you at lunch, yes?”

You nod, “Yeah.”

“Until then.”

You nod to then both before turning and heading to class. 

- - - 

At lunch, you wait for Tokoyami underneath a tree in the grassy area behind the main school building. You hadn't touched your food, even your favorite meal wasn't enticing enough to urge you to eat. 

You thought of what Mina had asked you earlier. 

What was stopping you from wanting Tokoyami’s affection? You knew the answer. It wasn't him. In fact, you felt warm when he was around. You felt every metaphor for love you've ever read. Every single one.

But your indecisiveness was what stopped you.

He had a goal on what he wanted to be. You didn't. 

You were afraid you would drag him down, be a weight instead of someone who could grow with him. 

“There is something bothering you.” Tokoyami starts off as soon as he sits down next to you, setting his tray aside. “Tell me.”

“I’m starting to become a poet.” You lay back on the soft grass, tilting your head to look at him. “You've rubbed off on me and now I can’t stop thinking.”

“That’s good.”

“Not really. It’s like I have to run a marathon to grab a cup that's right next to me.” You poke his arm. “And you're the cup.”

Tokoyami lays down next to you, Dark Shadow pooling next to him, lazily dozing in the shade. “Tell me.” He repeats in earnest. 

“I think I like you.”

From beside you, you could feel him tense up. Out of awkwardness or shyness you can't tell. But it was out in the open now. You couldn't swallow your words back up. 

“It would be really easy to love you.” You look up at the branches of the tree above you, arms forlding over your chest like a mummy. “You're the kind of boy I read about in novels. Sweet and mysterious. Like dark chocolate with a creamy milk chocolate center. But I’m just a bitter truffle. I’m not at the point where I can be in the same box as you.” You look back at him. “Does that make sense?”

“It does.” He says in an odd tone, as if he was surprised that it did in fact make sense. 

You trudge onward. “I don't want my bitter to unbalance you. If I were to be something to you- or to anyone, I would want to be an anchor. A helper, not a weed that stunts their growth.” Your eyes flicker away from his. “You're my friend. I like it this way. If I can’t like you that way, I’d be satisfied with this.”

Now it was up to him. You felt you said your piece, the thoughts that had been swimming in your mind since you first heard his laugh. It was a small infatuation, but you weren't lying when you said it would be easy to love him. 

You could imagine days of sunshine and rain, and they would all be full of life with him by your side. It wasn't obsession. It was comfort and sweetness. It was calm in the eye of an unknown storm.

You hear the sound of ruffling as he moves onto his side, laying on his side to look at you properly.

“You are bittersweet. You are incomplete. But we can balance each other, piece by piece.” He offers to you, his words a soothing balm to the aching in your chest at the thought of him potentially pushing you away.

“I’m not too much for you?” You whisper. “I know I can be nosy and straight forward. It doesn't bother you?”

He chuckles. “No. I think you're just what I need.”

- - -

Extra:

“So, does this mean I can technically call you my boyfriend?”

“Whatever you are comfortable with.”

You give it some thought, turning over phrases of affection in your mind. What fit him? Boyfriend felt odd. You liked it but it didn't feel like the right word..

“My better half?”

He chokes on his apple, covering his beak with his elbow.

“Are you acting shy now?” You giggle, feeling lighter now that your feelings were out in the open.

“I- I am not against it in private.”

“Okay.. how about.. Romeo.” You shoot him a wink.

A smile tugs at his mouth. He nods in acceptance. “I will take it.”

You pick up your bottle of water, pausing to add a small note before taking a gulp. “As long as we don't go through with the whole poisoning bit.”

“I wouldn't dream of it my dear.”

- - -

Tag List: @evierena , @aradias-crypt 

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Can I pls get Fuegoleon with number 5 for the quote thing?

Ps. I love your writing 💖 You're so talented and also congrats on the follows🎉💖

Certainly you can! 🤗🥰 Ps. Awww thank you so much anon 🥺 💖

Quote/prompt:  “I’m in love with you and your entire being. Your hands and the way they hold mine. Your eyes and the way they smile at mine. Your lips and the way they fit with mine. Everything about you. And it’s all mine.” -k.v

Pairing: Fuegoleon x reader

It was one of those mornings. Fuegoleon hadn’t had to wake up at an ungodly hour and you had managed to convince him to stay in bed, as you were quite certain that had you not voiced your wish, he would’ve gotten up regardless. Morning sun filtered through the window, cascading onto the floor, making the air glimmer like vapourised gold.

You laid with your head against his chest, his arm wrapped around you, legs tangled as your chests heaved in unison. Your eyes closed as you floated in the twilight zone, only feeling your skins pressed against each other and the silken sheets around you. Only the sound of his beating heart echoing in your ear as you took a deep breath, inhaling his scent and breathing out as if you were still savouring the smell.

Your newly placed engagement ring glimmered on your finger as you ran your fingers across his skin, light as feathers, hoping to imprint all of him into your mind. Every groove and imprint on his skin, you loved each and everyone of them as they belonged onto the body that contained the man you loved. And he was perfect in all of his imperfection as a human being, incomplete just as you were. But all of those bits and parts that were imperfect combined into an entirety that was perfect, and you wouldn’t change any of it as all of it was adored by you.

His hand drew circles on your skin, gracing across you even more carefully than you did over his. You could feel his head shift as he looked at you, eyes half open and a smile on his lips, his gaze travelling across your relaxed form. The sight was one he wanted to burn into his mind so vividly that he would never forget it, not for as long as he lived. Because this, you and him, was the highlight of his dreams and what he cherished the most.

His head moved again as he stared at the ceiling, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “What?” you giggled and turned your head to look at him, allowing your eyes to meet. You looked deep into each other’s eyes as you always did, letting the other know that it was all true and genuine. “I’m just thinking about how happy I am. About how I’m in love with you and your entire being.” His hand took a hold of yours, his fingers intertwining together fondly, holding together firmly but gently. “Your hands and the way they hold mine,” he continued, his gaze unwavering from yours. “Your eyes and the way they smile at mine.” The look he gave you with those words weren’t short of worship, as if you were a piece of heaven on earth. “Your lips,” he paused as his hand cupped your cheek, imploring you to lean closer, mirroring his movements. You did as he asked, your lips taking a hold of each other for a timeless moment, which was left too short like each and every time you kissed. His taste lingered on your lips as he continued: “ and the way they fit mine.”

You rolled on top of him, placing your head on his chest, and keeping your eyes on his with your head tilted to the side. “Everything about you,” he grinned as he dreaded all of it to be a dream and waking up alone. “And it’s all mine to love and to hold.” He whispered as he brushed off a lock of your hair and wrapped his arms around you, embracing as hard as he dared, not wanting to hurt you. You sank into the embrace, not knowing how to reply to a confession as grand as that, but feeling a burning need to do so regardless. “And the beat of your heart, matching mine,” you spoke with a tone that competed with the softness of the sheets and the warmth of the cascading light. “Our souls tangling together, as one,” you finished, seeing tears of joy forming in his eyes. His overwhelming love for you spilling over the edge of his being.

Neither of you fully knew quite what to do with all of the emotions swirling inside of you, but you had the rest of your lives to figure it out. And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[tirednotflirting]

you're the one to help me get to sleep // maybe i fell in love when you woke me up

oh boy that title looks a lot longer on tumblr than it did on ao3. anyway.

i got stressed out yesterday and finished some fluff bc that’s what we do here at tirednotflirting. forgot to post it here yesterday though so i am doing that Now post-first cup of coffee of the day and halfway through the french toast i made. 

random side not but i’ve been listening to my time capsule playlist on spotify and i highly rec checking yours out bc this is So Fun.

here is this on ao3 if you wanna read there.

The sun is just beginning to set over LA and Alex is in love.

The day had been long but good. One of those California summer days that stretched on long enough that it made him wonder if the sun would ever start heading toward its resting place below the horizon. Warm but not hot, the slight breeze allowing them to spend the afternoon writing outside instead of stuck up in the studio. 

He’s out on the balcony now, already changed into pajama pants since they decided they would stay in for the night, and a glass of wine dangles between his fingers in between sips. The city is somehow quiet from his spot above it though he can tell it must be loud from all the activity he can see on the street. It’s nice, Alex thinks, to find peace among the blaring white noise of Los Angeles. Today had been his last full day in the city, his flight back to the farm and his furry friends sometime in the early afternoon. He has his boarding pass loaded onto his phone and could easily wander back inside to find his phone and triple check the time so he could make note of when they need to be up in the morning but he’s not quite ready to start thinking about how he has to leave again yet. 

Jack would also just immediately kick him back out to his current spot if he tried heading inside right now anyway. Over coffee that morning Jack had declared he would be making dinner for Alex’s last night (It’s romantic, Al, and I only have one more night to romance the fuck out of you). At the time Alex had assumed it was the still half-asleep side of Jack speaking but when Alex arrived back at the apartment after spending part of the afternoon writing, he’d been handed the glass of wine currently resting in his hand and ushered to the balcony door by an apron-clad Jack. 

It was rare for Alex to feel this much peace on his last day of a trip to see Jack. Usually there was some element of sadness or anxiety over the impending time apart until more band things or another trip to either coast. But as he tips back the last of his wine and stares back out toward the last bits of light in the city sky, all Alex can feel is a fullness in his chest. 

He decides he’s going to want more wine with dinner and given the time, he figures Jack must be close to finishing things up. Alex pulls himself up and pushes the sliding door open to call out toward the kitchen. 

“Jack, babe, am I allowed into the kitchen for more wine?”

Jack’s head pokes out from the kitchen with a pout on his lips. “Five more minutes, Alex. You have to give a chef space to work.”

“Bring me the bottle then, please,” Alex says in his sweetest voice, his lashes fluttering. He can see Jack’s dramatic eye roll from where he leans against the door frame before he steps back into the kitchen, emerging a few seconds later with the bottle of white he had poured for Alex earlier.

“Here you go, you lush,” Jack says while passing over the bottle once he’s close enough. Before he has a chance to step away, Alex pulls at the front of his apron to briefly press their lips together. Jack drops a hand to the bottom of Alex’s back to hold him close, his fingers pressing into his skin through his t-shirt. 

“I like the apron. It’s cute.” Alex compliments as he smoothes out the wrinkles in the fabric.

Jack’s hand runs up and down Alex’s spine as he hums. It’s an action that mimics the way Jack had been waking him up most days, and a lazy smile pulls at Alex’s lips at the memory of the fond moment. “Thank you,” Jack muses. “I only wore it because I figured you would think that, so it’s nice to know I was right.”

Alex laughs. “You wore something just because you thought I might find it cute?”

“I like being told I’m a cute boy. Sue me,” Jack says, his hand wrapping more securely around Alex’s waist. “Now go back out. I’m just putting things into bowls, I’ll be out in a second, handsome.”

Alex feels himself blush as Jack leans forward to press his lips to Alex’s temple before spinning on his heel and heading back toward the kitchen. As he steps back outside, Alex can’t help but hope that they never leave this phase of their relationship. This not quite honeymoon but not quite settled phase, where they’re so damn comfortable being with each other (in a way Alex used to spend hours awake at night worrying they would never find the path to) but compliments like the one Jack’s just thrown his way still make him blush. It’s a nice spot to be in for now, he thinks.

He pulls the cork from the wine and gives himself another generous pour before leaving the bottle in the middle of the table they’re meant to be eating at. The sky is just fading into dusk, the city draped in a blanket of purples and blues when the light above him clicks on. Alex turns from his spot to find Jack sliding the door open mostly with his foot, two bowls somewhat precariously balanced in each of his hands. Alex jumps up and ignores Jack’s whines as he takes the bowls from him and wanders back to set them on the table while Jack jogs back through the apartment to return with plates and silverware and another wine glass.

“Alright so if this sucks, we’re blaming my mom because she basically walked me through the whole thing step by step,” Jack says once they’re back at the table while he pours wine into his own glass. “Also the caprese salad was her idea since I wasn’t feeling leafy but I feel like romantic dinner date is incomplete without salad.”

“You called your mom to have her walk you through a recipe?” Alex smiles as he lets his head drop to rest in the palm of his hand while he watches Jack spoon some kind of pasta onto the two plates.

“Listen, you know I’m helpless in a kitchen,” Jack says while pushing one of the plates in Alex’s direction. “And it’s your last night here and I wanted to do something nice for you, damn it.”

“That’s very cute,” Alex replies before taking another sip from his wine glass. “You’re very cute.”

“You already told me I was cute. You gotta get more creative with your adjectives, Mr Songwriter.”

Alex shakes his head in mock protest. “I said the apron was cute before, not you.” Jack scowls at him while gently kicking his ankle. “Hush, I knew what you meant.” A smile pulls at Alex’s lips when he notices how Jack leaves their feet all tangled up together under the table after the kick. It’s silly, he knows, to get all blushy over such a simple, nonchalant action but he can’t help it.

Jack points his fork across the table at Alex after taking a bite. “Also my mom said to call her when you get back. She wants to catch up and probably bug you again about when you’re going to propose.”

Alex laughs brightly. “Well my mom was asking that I get you to Facetime her when you’ve got some free time likely for the exact same conversation.” He gestures down to his plate with a nod. “This really does not suck, by the way.”

“Our mothers really ought to be more strategic in their approach on this,” Jack says while shaking his head. “I mean it’s completely impractical that we both propose. And thank you, I try.”

“I think they figure if they double the effort they have a greater chance of success or something.”

“Fair enough, I suppose.”

The banter back and forth over their meal continues well into the night. After a while, Alex insists on clearing the table and taking things inside. He quickly cleans the dishes before grabbing another bottle of wine from the fridge and clean glasses and heading back out. Jack has moved over to the couch he keeps out there and has a blanket pulled over his bare legs, the nighttime breeze dropping the temperature enough to call it a cool night. Alex fills their glasses and leaves the bottle on the table before wandering over to where Jack has decided to lounge. 

“For you, sir,” Alex announces while handing over one of the glasses. He takes a seat next Jack, scooting closer to his side to steal some of the blanket and drops his head to rest against Jack’s chest.

Jack hums his thanks as he takes a sip and wraps an arm around Alex’s shoulders. His fingers immediately move to play with the sleeve of his t-shirt as he sighs. “Is it selfish to ask you to cancel your flight and stay longer?” 

“Not selfish but also not really a possibility, my love,” Alex says while tilting his head up to press his lips to Jack’s jaw. “I’ve got animal friends to attend to and you’ve got that trip out to see Zack to pack for.”

“Mmm, yeah you’re right,” Jack says while swirling the wine in his glass. “The goats and Zack need cuddles too, I guess.”

“Exactly.” Alex sighs as he lifts his shoulder, asking Jack a silent question that he thankfully knows the answer to. Jack drops his hand to rest in his lap and Alex reaches over for it, his fingers slipping into the spaces between Jack’s and squeezing to press their palms together. He smiles lazily at the action. It’s the little things about time with Jack that stick in his brain when they’re apart. The weight of Jack’s hand in his own, the steady sound of his heartbeat below Alex’s ear, the tapping of Jack’s foot against the ground since even in the quiet, still moments Jack has to find a way to expel the extra energy he always seems to possess. It’s all so familiar and warm. Alex isn’t sure what life would be like without the small details that make up them.

He isn’t sure how long they sit there, sipping and resting against each other while staring out at the light polluted LA night sky. Long enough that Jack eventually lets out a yawn that breaks Alex out of the daze he’d fallen into, the gentle rising and falling of Jack’s chest beneath his head acting as a lullaby of sorts.

“Bedtime?” Alex asks with a gentle laugh. He lets their hands fall apart in favor of moving to cup Jack’s jaw. His thumb runs across the top of his cheek, just below his sleepy eyes. 

“Think so, yeah,” Jack slurs his words slightly as he leans into Alex’s touch. “Don’t you need to pack? We’ll probably need to head out at like eleven since your flight is at one.”

And of course Jack remembers what time his flight is at when Alex hasn’t bothered to check all night. He’s always taking care of him in the little ways. In the ways that Alex didn’t realize he needed taking care of, really. 

Alex moves to stand and smiles at Jack’s pout when he reaches to pull him up with him. “I can pack in the morning. Right now I just want to cuddle my boy.”

Jack grins at his words and rises without any more protest. They gather the glasses and shuffle back inside. Jack steals them away from Alex once they reach the stairs and gestures for him to head upstairs while he goes in the direction of the kitchen. Alex pouts at the action and leans against the railing to wait for Jack to round the corner again. 

Jack jumps a bit when he finds Alex in the same spot he left him. “And you thought I was a sleepy boy?” Jack laughs, something warm and soft behind his gaze. Jack takes a couple steps up, his hand reaching back to loosely link with Alex’s to guide them upstairs.

They get ready for bed quickly despite the half asleep state they both drifted into and soon enough Alex is crawling beneath wrinkled sheets. He’s just barely plugged his phone into the charger when a pair of arms pull him toward the center of the bed. 

“How are you always so warm?” Jack mumbles into the back of Alex’s hair as his arms wrap more fully around Alex’s middle. He turns in his arms and Jack settles against his chest. “Not that I’m complaining since it’s freezing in here. But still.”

Alex laughs as he tries to keep his eyes open while Jack nuzzles his cool nose against his collarbone. He reaches a hand up to thread into the hair at the back of Jack’s neck. “Somebody’s got to keep you warm.”

“I’m glad it’s you,” Jack mumbles almost incoherently. Alex waits for him to say more as he continues drawing short patterns through Jack’s hair but he only softly hums and nestles further against his chest.

Alex is moments away from falling falling falling to a peaceful rest when Jack’s hand settles against the bottom of his back beneath the sweatshirt he stole from his closet, the extra layer of Jack’s familiar scent providing some additional security on his last night in this bed. Alex feels Jack’s sleep steady breath puff against his neck and in his final moments of consciousness, all he can think is Jack Jack Jack. His gentle laugh and warm gaze fills Alex’s mind as he lets his eyes finally flutter shut.

And maybe that’s what love is, falling asleep already in a dream.

*

It’s pouring down rain in Maryland and Jack is in love. 

He’s only just woken up, his mind still cloudy from sleep and his eyes still locked shut. Jack isn’t sure what time it is but given that he’s rising naturally and not from an alarm or kisses being pressed against his cheeks, he assumes it must be pretty late into the morning hours. 

It’s his first morning on this visit out to the farm. His flight the previous night had gotten in before dinner so Alex had declared it date night (Is every night we’re together not date night, Alex? Romance mode 24/7, baby.) and insisted they stop at the store for ingredients before heading back to the house. Once they were at the farm, they tended to the animals (or Alex did while Jack sat on the floor and let the goats chew on his hoodie strings) before heading back inside where Jack sat at the counter and told Alex stories about his airport adventures while watching him cook. They had tried to start a movie after food but Jack kept falling asleep every few minutes with his head in Alex’s lap so it wasn’t long before he was being pulled in the direction of the bedroom.

He sighs as the last moments of sleep drift off and he settles back into the land of the living. He’s yet to open his eyes in case the sun is peeking in anywhere in the room since he knows he’s not yet awake enough for true daylight. Two thoughts enter his mind almost immediately though: it’s cold as hell and there’s coffee brewing in the kitchen. Both of these things are a result of a third thing that Jack notices and it’s that Alex has left him alone in bed.

Jack would get whiny about the third thing but he knows that given where they are it would be pretty selfish of him. Mornings at the farm are loaded with more responsibilities than mornings in LA, and Jack knows the animal friends deserve breakfast and Alex’s bright, sleepy smile just as much as he does. Plus, his boy did make him coffee. 

Jack takes a deep breath and catches the scent of dark roast mixed in with the scent of Alex (his cologne and the same laundry detergent he’s used since his mom would pack it for him on their early tours) before finally pushing himself up from the mattress and opening his eyes. The room is thankfully still dark since Alex left the curtains closed for him but he can hear the rain beating down against the windows even through the heavy fabric. Jack pouts then, suddenly worried about Alex having to wander around out in the January rain by himself. 

He finds a hoodie and the slippers his mom gifted him for Christmas a few weeks earlier on the floor beside the bed and pulls both on before shuffling from the bedroom. Jack immediately pulls at the sleeves to cover his hands and considers going back to the bedroom to steal a shirt to throw on underneath the hoodie but the coffee hits his nose again and he continues in the direction of the kitchen.

The only light on in the room is the one over the sink and because of the rain, the kitchen remains pretty dark despite the clock on the microwave reading that it’s a little bit past ten. Jack wanders through the room to the drying rack by the sink to get his mug (the one he found in some little thrift store somewhere in Texas with the painted butterflies) before turning back to the island. He fills the mug from the mostly full French press that must have been made pretty recently, Jack thinks, as he burns his tongue a little on his first sip. Fresh coffee means that Alex has already been out to the stalls for the morning so Jack turns then, having a good feeling about where Alex may have wandered off to, and lets his hip rest against the edge of the counter.

From where he stands leaning against the kitchen island, Jack can see Alex’s head poking out from the back of the couch out on the front porch. He’s got a blue beanie pulled over his head and Jack can see his hands cupped around a mug and he can see the steam rising against Alex’s face. He pulls his phone from his pocket to check the temperature and rolls his eyes at the number shown on the screen but it doesn’t stop him from lifting his own mug to head in the direction of the front door.

Alex looks over in his direction as Jack pushes the door closed behind him to join Alex out in the cold morning air. The rain had settled mostly and a thick fog blankets over the property, the trees at the end of the road and pasture just barely visible. A soft smile pulls at Alex’s lips as he pats the cushion beside him. Jack returns the grin as he takes in the crinkles beside his boy’s tired eyes. Sometimes Jack forgets they’re getting older but then notices a gray hair when he’s looking in the mirror while brushing his teeth or notices Alex’s laughter lines deepening ever so slightly and it reminds him just how long they’ve been on these wild adventures together.

He takes the spot beside Alex and pulls the blanket he’s got covering his lap over his own before letting his head drop to rest against Alex’s shoulder. Jack turns to press his cold nose against Alex’s neck and smiles when he hears a soft whine in response to the action.

“Why are we having our coffee outside when it’s nearly freezing out?” Jack mumbles against Alex’s skin. He feels a hand reach up to card through his bed head and smiles at the feeling.

“You’ve been in California too long,” Alex teases. “We would have been calling this a warm morning back in the day.”

“Jesus, are we really old enough for things to be back in the day now?”

“We’re definitely getting there, love.” Alex laughs before pausing to take a sip from his mug. “Anyway, I finished up feeding everybody and wanted to keep listening to the rain.”

Jack figures that’s a fair enough answer (at least coming from Alex) so they sit in silence for a little while. They sip from their respective mugs and Jack cuddles impossibly closer to Alex for warmth as he searches for patterns in the sound of the rain against the roof. Jack notices the shapes Alex has been drawing through his hair change suddenly and he sits up a bit to see his face and pouts at the expression he’s met with.

“What are you thinking so hard about, huh?” Jack asks as he reaches a hand up to rub away the lines across Alex’s forehead. “Is everything okay?”

“Do you want to move in together?” Alex asks in a somewhat rushed voice while his hands pull at the ends of his sleeves. “Like here? On the farm?”

Jack’s hand falls from Alex’s forehead to cup his cheek. “What?”

“I mean, you should probably keep the place in LA since we’re over there enough for work stuff. And I’ve just been thinking that this feels like a good place to settle down and,” he pauses to take a breath and looks up to meet Jack’s gaze. “And I don’t know if I’m moving too fast but I want to settle down with you.”

“Al, I’ve known you for like, half my life. We’re not exactly operating on a normal relationship timeline here. I’d love to move in,” Jack says into the space between them and he can’t help but lean forward to brush their lips together when Alex’s eyes widen. “Though you’re going to have to teach me how to actually be helpful around this place rather than just sit and look cute while petting the goats.”

“Having someone to sit and look cute with the goats is an essential part of farm maintenance, Jack. Don’t sell yourself short,” Alex says while reaching to cover the hand Jack still has against his cheek. “But don’t worry. We’ll teach you to be a proper farm boy. Get you some boots and everything.”

“I want a cowboy hat, too. But sounds perfect.” Jack says before leaning in to press their lips together again. Alex pulls him closer and Jack feels himself smile into the kiss. Alex’s warmth almost makes him forget about the cold winter air surrounding them and his mind is flooded with the thought of a future where everyday is spent with the eternal summer’s day that is Alex Gaskarth.

Alex pulls away first and a giggle leaves his lips as Jack whines at him. “Guess we should go ahead and actually get the day started then?”

“Has to happen eventually, I suppose.” Jack sighs as he sinks further into the couch. 

Alex laughs as he stands up, his hand reaching down to link their hands together. “Come on. We’ve got brunch with the mothers in an hour and now we’ve got good news to share with them. Moms love good news.”

Jack allows himself to be pulled up from the couch and in the direction of the front door. He leans against the wood once they’re back inside and pulls Alex into his hold while his arms move to hang over his shoulders. “We smell like farm and wet dog. And since we’re going to be sharing a home now, I think it only makes sense that we try to conserve resources. What do you think?”

Alex rolls his eyes and slides his hands up to rest against Jack’s chest. “Thank you for the invitation but I figured I would make up another pot of coffee for us while you go get ready?”

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“I keep asking myself the same thing.”

With a final press of his lips to Jack’s cheek, Alex heads off to make the promised coffee. Jack watches him head into the kitchen from where he stands in the front hall. He sees Alex leave the mugs on the island in favor of pulling his phone out to connect to the speaker next to the sink and a second later a song starts playing that immediately has him bouncing on his toes as he fills the kettle from the sink. Jack smiles as he leans against the frame into the dining room while he watches Alex dance around and softly sing while scooping new coffee grounds. He turns then and Jack is caught as Alex smiles and winks in his direction, a mouthed Go while pointing in the direction of the bedroom being his parting gift. 

Jack blows a kiss and starts making his way down the front hall to the stairs. He pauses for a moment at the table where Alex had left a mess of different holiday cards he’d received throughout the season. Bright colors and happy smiles meet Jack’s eyes as he spots friends and their families and pets. He sighs and continues down the hall after a moment, wondering if maybe they could get the goats to sit still long enough for a holiday card sometime next fall. It’s a swirling, dreamy thought, but he spends the rest of the morning stuck on the idea of seeing their smiling faces and well wishes mixed into their loved ones’ piles of cards.

And maybe that’s what love is, waking up to the beginning of another dream.

*