#so happy to have this skin and be able to reference screens of it

[yaut-jaknowit]

Naww funny asf idea you might like, the reader having a thing for their male yautjas chest, you know overall like “BOOBIES, THE TIDDIES” and their mate just having to put up with their shenanigans

(Don’t forget to stay hydrated🫵)

Boobies, Yes

Pairing: Wolf x Reader

Word Count: 1808

Summary: A menace, a daring menace. That's what you are. Any chance you're given, you attack. How can you resist? They're right there! Your hands need to hold them. They look so heavy for your Yautja.

Author Note: This, this is gold. Tiddies are the best, no matter one who or what. Muscle or not, Yautjas have great boobies. Thank you for this wonderful ask.

Masterlist

Ao3

How could you ignore them? Especially when they’re right there! Even though Wolf was leaner compared to a few of his hunting buddies, he had enough to grab. You snickered quietly as you eyed up the lethal Yautja sitting in his pilot’s chair. He was none the wiser as you stood off to the side. Well, you believed he didn’t know you were there. But this is Wolf we’re talking about. He scented you the moment you entered the room.

One of the things he taught you from the time you’ve stayed with him, you were able to step lightly as you snuck over to him. You kept behind him, bare feet not making a sound on the warm metal floors. A poised hunter, trained from one of the best.

The chair sat about three feet in front of you. This was your chance! You took a step to the right, ready to spring around it and surprise Wolf.

“What do you think you’re doing, little hunter?” The question hung in the air. You tensed up, muscles freezing up. Damn… You stayed where you were, hoping he’ll just brush it by. ‘Hope’ that won’t do much for you in the situation. Wolf said your name, not a warning or anything. He just spoke it.

Air pushed out of your nostrils as airy scoff. Finally, you stepped out from behind the chair and relinquished your hiding spot. Wolf sat relaxed in his seat, one elbow resting on the arm rest. His other limb was messing with a screen. By the looks of it, he was checking his messages. As one of the greatest hunters out there, he was quite busy.

Wolf’s eyes glanced at you for a moment. The Yautja held a nonchalant gaze when he looked at. “What are you doing?” You placed a hand on his unused arm rest and leaned a little in. A playful grin growing on your smug face. You didn’t try to hide it once of ever.

“Oh nothing, nothing at all.” A total lie but he had no idea. Probably. Your eyes flickered down. Target acquired.

Today was a relaxing day. All Wolf was wearing was his loin cloth a leather shoulder guard. The leather band went over his chest and up his shoulder. He was free to show off his body that you loved. You were happy to drink it in. But that’s not why you were standing next to him. There was a special part you were after.

A scaled brow was raised slightly. His gaze was still on the screen before him, pointer finger flicking through messages. Wolf hummed his suspicion at your retort.

Perfect. The grin on your face widened more. Then you attacked. Your free hand surged forward and latched onto one of the pecs of Wolf. You squeezed, the muscle for the second soft, not being flexed. The very next second, they were rock solid in your grasp.

A massive, calloused hand wrapped around your wrist, easily swallowing it up. The limb tugged you forward towards Wolf. Instantly, you gulped and laughed softly, almost nervously.

Deep down, you don’t know how this alien tolerates your antics, but he does.

Said Yautja leaned in close, hot breath fanning over your skin. “What do you think you’re doing?” he reilerated and emphasized by pulling on your limb to get you even closer. Wolf flicked his upper mandible. It brushed against your cheek.

You kept that grin plastered on your features. “What do you mean?” you asked of him oh-so innocently. All of that was a lie.

Wolf huffed then his eye glanced down at your hand still holding his pec. You still pretended to not know what he’s referring to. This is what you loved about him. One of the many things you loved about Wolf. He let this happen. He let you fool around – safely of course.

Since you hadn’t moved the limb, Wolf flexed his muscle you were holding onto. He left it untensed once he was done showing off. This was a new opportunity. Your hand squeezed it again. You giggled excitingly. Afterwards, you were able to remove Wolf’s hand on you and walk off.

The entire interaction confused Wolf. He let you go though and returned to the screen before him. An amused smile on his face as he shook his head. Whatever will he do with you?

.

That was the first time you’ve done but it wasn’t the last. It’ll never be the last! No matter how many times you do it to him, no matter what he wears, your hands find his boobies. Soft, velvet skin continuous met the palm of your small hands. After so many tries, you’ve lost count of the successes. Not that it matters though. Mostly.

This time consist of a drive-by. Multiple success in one day. Four in total. Time to make it five.

Your feet carried you swiftly down the main hall. Wolf was lifting himself out of his chair and strolling down the same hall as you. Since the atmosphere of the ship is to his liking, he can freely discard his biomask. In conclusion, you could see his eyes closely watching you. It was like Wolf already knew what was to happen. There was suspicion floating in his eyes.

Careful steps lead towards your known target. Each one counted down. Wolf tried to keep a wide berth but he can’t escaped you. Not when he’s trained to be a hunter like him.

“Boobies!” you shouted and grasped his free pec lightning fast. One squish and you were racing down the hall away from him, towards the cockpit. Sometimes he’ll give chase after you. Other’s – like this time – he’ll stop, turn to face your direction, and quirk a brow. Nothing will be said in exchange. He’ll just watch you, trying to hide the minute smile on his alien face. But you’ve spotted it, twice. He likes this game you rope him into playing. Different, fun, and seeing you smile, that’s what matters to him greatly.

.

This incident consisted of the two of you back on Yautja Prime. Though, considered dangerous for you, a ooman. No one dared laid finger on you. Not when you smelled like Wolf or when he was around you. Many barely gave you a glance before giving you the space Wolf silently demanded. All the males, of course did this. The females, they were different. Thankfully, not many of them were out today in the shopping district of Wolf’s hometown.

While in the public’s eye, Wolf wasn’t the most friendly. As one of the most deadly hunter’s out there, he had to keep up his image.  With that in mind, Wolf couldn’t be touchy-touchy with you. No holding hands, not even a hand on your shoulder. That didn’t stop you from being extremely close with Wolf. Like any hunter, he knew the dangers of his own planet. You were kept in front of him at all times.

Wolf corralled you towards a vendor he was needing to visit. It was easy to keep you contained. Once the two of you arrived, Wolf began to speak to the other alien. You were expected to stay between Wolf and the table. The safest place to be. And that’s where you stayed, mostly peacefully.

The vendor’s table didn’t have much that interested yourself, computer components by the looks of it. You looked at what they had before quickly losing interest. Instead, you turned around to face Wolf. He had his biomask on, a way to hide his emotions better. But you could read his body language plainly.

Standing in front of him, about to his midriff, you couldn’t contain your smirk. It was your precursor to your actions. Your hand grabbed at his pec once again and squeezed. The Yautja didn’t even move or flex the muscle. You huffed and fake fell towards him. Now, your face buried between his glorious boobs. Mmm, best place to be!

Now, your Yautja stiffened slightly, spine tensing but he did nothing more than that. You happily stayed there. Wolf didn’t do anything with his hands. He let them hang at his sides, though his fingers did twitch. Not that you saw or even felt them move.

After the two of you were done at the vendor, Wolf stepped back. You weren’t expecting this and stumbled since your weight was pressed into him. He placed a hand on your shoulder for one moment to catch you. Then it fell away back to Wolf’s side. He turned around and started walking away. This sort of thing wasn’t unnatural out in public. You don’t take any offense to his actions out here. That didn’t stop you from teasing him. All with a smirk on your face.

He stalked away like a predator, like the hunter he is. You were quick to scramble after him, a pep in your step.

.

Two perfectly shaped breasts just sitting there. All of this has been going on for weeks. And it won’t stop. You couldn’t help but snicker quietly as you walked alongside Wolf in the ship. Dinner had been prepared. He had come to get you so the two of you could eat.

As the pair of you made their way into the kitchen, you spun on your heel and stopped in front of Wolf. He paused as well, head tilted down to look at your smaller frame. A brow was quirked up. Recognition flashed in his eyes. Yet, Wolf didn’t move. You giggled. Immediately, you placed a hand on his exposed pec and squeezed. You leaned in and stood on your tippy-toes. This was Wolf though, he stood far too tall for you to press a kiss to his mandible.

The wall met your back, a hand cushioned the back of your skull. Then, that limb pinned your hip. The other hand was firmly wrapped around your neck, promptly pinning you to the wall as well. You gasped harshly and stared up at Wolf in shock. Nevertheless, your fingers still grasping his chest.

Wolf leaned down, warm breath fanning over your face. Dark tresses creating a half circle curtain around us. His three mandibles twitching, dark eyes scanning over your features before locking onto your eyes. The upper fang caressed your cheek bone. “Are you going to continue doing that?” he growled. Internally, you knew that didn’t have a single bite in it.

You stretched out your neck to be closer to him. “Yes.”

Dinner was forgotten about.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #wolf

[ioniansunsets]

with all this new HEARTSTEEL stuff; i urgently NEED a scenario where f!reader is in the studio helping Kayn write a song or even Kayn doing a verse for reader!

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn Writing Songs With/For You ✖

✖ Word Count: 564

✖ Tags: Established R/S

✖ A/N: I decided to make it a scenario of Kayn writing a solo song in his room with you instead of one with Heartsteel in the studio, I think it feels a little more personal? Cuter? I hope I didn't make him too OOC >< I kept in mind that he was Heartsteel's rapper and instrumentalist. EDIT: There is now a Part 2, Here EDIT2: The confession in reference is here.

----

" Mmm...what rhymes with Love? Ugh, how does Aphelios do this!"

You couldn't help but laugh at your lover. He sits by his computer, face scrunched up in frustration. His hands tapping a steady rhythm on the desk, a tune playing in his head but no words to go with it. He spends a good few minutes whining and groaning as he types, deletes, pauses and does it all over again. Suddenly, he stops, turning to look at you.

" Babe come here I need you."

He turns to the you sitting on his bed. An arm out, inviting you close. As you walk over, he quickly pulls you in, dragging you onto his lap. His head leaning on your shoulder. Affectionately nuzzling his face into your neck, seemingly trying to shake away his writer's block. His hands leaving the keyboard to wrap around your waist. Slowly he relaxes. A soft tune? He's humming a song against your skin as his fingers play an imaginary instrument on your waist. As his feet tap out a beat he finally lets go of you. Words now coming to him in a perfect rhyme as he whispers his new song. A smile now on his face.

" Mmm~ I love you my muse, you're just so good for me you know that? The way holding you clears my head."

He laughs loudly, giving you a charming smile as he starts furiously typing on the computer. You giggle at his cute outburst, turning to look at the screen, slowly reading and digesting the words he typed. The scenario suspiciously reminiscent of your conversation with him when he first confessed to you. Wait, was this a love song about you? The feelings and emotions captured almost perfectly. Is that him writing about not being able to sleep the night before because he was so excited just to be in love with you? It almost feels like a sin reading the things he typed. It felt so deeply personal to him.

" Kayn? Is this about us?"

As you tease him, his face confirms it. His shit eating grin of pride from writing a good verse now turning into an awkward shocked look as a blush rises up his face. He has been caught in the act it seems. Forgetting that by having you on his lap means you have a very clear view of his screen.

" Ah! Get off me this is why I work alone!"

He tries to shake you off his legs, arms wrapping around you as he tries to lift you up. You let out a chuckle as you hold him tightly, refusing to let go. Reassuring him that you love it. He grumbles, your reassurance turning his embarrassment into a cheeky smile. Laughing, he effortlessly picks you up in a princess carry. Dropping you on the bed a few steps behind him. He climbs on top of you, leaning down to give you a quick kiss before lightly caressing your cheek and getting off.

" Now give me some space, a musical rockstar genius is at work! I'll show it to you when I think its good enough. Go go!"

He shoos you away, asking for privacy as he laughs and continues typing away. You can't help but smile as you see how happy he is now compared to his frustration from earlier. How lucky you were to have him.

#Heartsteel!Kayn #Kayn x Reader #Shieda Kayn #THANK YOU ANON I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM #i read this in the morning before school and had been thinking of this scenario the whole day #im shy reading this and i wrote it LMAO #THE NEW HEARTSTEEL ART REALLY MADE MY SCREAM #Anon Answer #KaynLeague #Kayn League #League of Legends Imagines #Heartsteel AU! #Kayn LoL #League of Legends Scenarios #SCENARIOS

[malarign]

hug me

(how hugs with them would be like)

contains: bf!ot7 x gn!reader | genre: fluff | tw! very very clingy enha, just like we all like, let me know if i should add something though! | wc: 2,6k

author’s note: i’ve seen so many posts about enha and hugs so i decided not to post it, but tbh i kinda like it so hope you’ll do too!

Lee Heeseung | 이희승

➶ cuddling *ೃ༄

something about heeseung screams to me

“i’m comfy, come here let’s cuddle 🥰”

ESPECIALLY since not a long time ago, jake said he’s like a teddy bear

and i couldn’t agree more

look at him

if you don’t agree go find some brains 🥱

“Babe…” Heeseung whined, dragging out the last syllable. “I’m cold without you,” he said more quietly now that you threw him a daring glare across the room.

“Please be patient, Hee. Once I’m finished with this I’m all yours,” you said, focusing on the screen of your computer.

You heard a long sigh behind you and couldn’t help but smile.

“Never thought it’s possible to miss your partner when they’re on the other side of the room. I guess that’s possible only if they’re a complete workaholic and don’t mind neglecting their lovely boyfriend,” he mumbled, curling into a small ball, a blanket covering his whole body, except his face.

“Are you done whining?” you asked, laughing at his dramatic reaction.

“Are you done neglecting me?” He faced you.

“Yes, can you let me under the blanket now?”

Your words made his face brighten and the next thing you knew was him pulling you into his warm embrace.

“Would be nice to be able to breathe, you know?” you spoke, voice muffled by the fabrics of his hoodie and blanket combined.

“Huh? Can’t hear you,” he said in a serious tone, uncovering your face and cupping it with his hands. “You have to either speak louder or not cover your mouth.”

His sarcastic tone made you close your eyes in fury, but it disappeared the moment he placed a few feather-like pecks on your forehead and eyelids. Pulling away he noticed your dreamy smile and closed eyes in serenity. Feeling his lips leaving your skin, you pouted, pointing to your lips.

“You forgot something.”

Without wasting any second he leaned in to plant a soft kiss, bringing you closer with every movement of his lips against yours. His arms around your form tightened their grip, leaving no space for a grain of sand between you, just like both of you liked it the most.

Park Jongseong | 박종성

➶ long hugs *ೃ༄

okay this might be unexpected

but cmon he’s a softie

a little longer hug makes him melt

would bury his face in the crook of your neck

and be happy for the rest of his day 😊

You peacefully started preparing breakfast when you heard pretty heavy and probably sleepy footsteps. You turned around and saw him, walking to the kitchen island with half-opened eyes. You smiled at the endearing view.

Taking a chance of him not beating fully conscious, you spoke in a baby voice: “Good morning. How did my baby sleep?”

He looked at you confused but proceeded to answer, matching your tone. “Good, but I missed my personal heater.” He squinted his eyes, referring to you leaving bed before him.

“Sorry, I wanted to treat you to some breakfast.” You turned around to continue cooking, now pouring pancake batter on the frying pan.

“But it’s always me who prepares breakfast,” he said with a hint of whine in his voice.

“Exactly. It’s my turn,” you said and threatened him with a spatula, waving it in front of him. He chuckled and lazily rubbed his eyes for clearer vision.

Soon you felt how his arms wrapped around your waist, stroking your sides with his fingers. His nose poked your neck, feeling tickles every time the air he breathed out hit your skin. You turned around to feel his warmth better and snaked your arms around his shoulders. He hummed in satisfaction of the closeness between you two and smiled dreamily.

“I could stay like this forever, y’know?” he murmured against your skin.

“Me too, but you need to let me go now, the pancakes are gonna burn.” Instead of loosening his grip around you, he tightened it. “Jay, at least turn off the stove,” you chuckled at his usual morning clinginess. His right hand reached to do as you said and quickly moved back to your waist.

“Pancakes can wait.”

Sim Jaeyun | 심재윤

➶ “don’t go” hugs *ೃ༄

he’s kinda like jay

but MORE you know what i’m saying?

the moment you hug him there’s no going back

doesn’t matter if you have to leave for work or go back to cooking

you 🫵 are not going anywhere 😇

You ran around your apartment while Jake watched you calmly, sipping on his morning coffee every once in a while.

“It would be quite nice if you helped me a little. You see I’m in a hurry,” you huffed, packing your stuff into your tote bag.

“That would mean you will leave earlier. Which also leads to me missing you earlier. And spending less time with you and…” he started counting all the cons of helping you.

“Okay, okay, I get it, you can’t live without me, I know,” you interrupted him. “But you’ll see me in a while,”

He rolled his eyes. “In a while? Meaning after your job so in like 9 to 10 hours, depending on the traffic.”

“You could also just pick me up after I’m done dealing with those pricks.” You sent him a pleading look.

“Weird way to call your clients. I’ll think about it,” Jake said and stood up from his seat and engulfed your body, trying his best not to rumple your shirt. “Did you eat your breakfast?”

“No,” you said honestly, laying your head on his shoulder, inhaling his scent.

“Well, did you at least pack some lunch?”

“I didn’t have time to prepare one.” You bit your lips at the thought of having to waste your time on break.

“Thankfully, your amazing boyfriend prepared you one, while you were maniacally looking for your ID. I don’t understand why you can’t just keep it in one place,” he said, continuously patting your back.

You faced him and pecked his lips quickly. “You’re the best.”

You tried to break free from his arms but the more you tried the more he didn’t want to let go. “Jake,” you said in a warning tone.

“Don’t go,” he mumbled and buried his face in the crook of your neck. “You still have a minute or two.”

“What should I do with you?” You shook your head in disbelief and just melted in his touch.

Park Sunghoon | 박성훈

➶ coat hugs *ೃ༄

okay, listen

sunghoon + cold days >>>

our ice prince just fits winter so perfectly

but seeing you freezing makes him just want to squeeze it away from you

that’s why he covers you with his coat and ugh it would be so warm :((

You waited at the train station, shaking slightly as the acute wind hit your body. Sunghoon’s train was a bit late, which he warned you about. Still, you being you, were there 10 minutes too early, since you couldn’t stand being late.

You heard a faint sound of a notification. “One more station, hope you dressed warmly.” You could already sense the scolding you were going to listen to once he sees you. Sunghoon knew very well of your habit of dressing not according to the weather, though without his help you weren’t able to choose how warmly you should dress. You tried to text him back, but your fingers were already frozen and you couldn’t aim to the right buttons.

Thankfully his train soon arrived at the station and once the passengers started to get off, you tried to spot your boyfriend. Squinting your eyes you spotted his tall silhouette, along with his displeased expression.

He walked to your shaking body and nodded slightly. “Now I see why you didn’t reply to me.”

“Well, hello to you too,” you scoffed at his comment. Without saying a word he unbuttoned his coat and engulfed you in his arms. You nestled up to him and wrapped your arms under his coat.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he said against your hair, and you felt how blood rushed to your cheeks. “Are you at least a little more warm now?” he asked and felt your nod in response. “Do you want to go now?” You shook your head. “Is this how we’re going to communicate now?” he chuckled and laughed when he felt another nod from you.

You raised your head from his chest to face him. Climbing on your toes you placed a cold and delicate kiss on his lips. You wanted to cup his cheeks but just when your hands touched his skin he hissed at the freezing feeling.

“Sorry!” you said in guilt and removed your hands quickly. You frowned as he took both of your palms in his and placed them on both sides of his neck. “It’s okay, I don’t want you to be cold,” you said, feeling how your heart melted at his gesture.

“Once you’re a little bit more warm I might treat you to some hot chocolate, so choose wisely.” Just as he expected, you stayed in his arms, warming up against his warm body.

Kim Sunoo | 김선우

➶ “i missed you” hugs *ೃ༄

tbh i don’t see him as much of a hug guy

BUT ☝️

just IMAGINE him running all excited after not seeing him for a while

all smiley and happy

once you’re in his arms he doesn’t let go because he misses you so much </33

Anticipation flooded your whole body as you waited in one of the dressing rooms in the venue. It was their last concert before comeback promotions and coming back to Korea, after weeks spent in the States. Just yesterday you called him and spent a solid two hours telling each other how you missed one another. What he didn’t know was that as you were talking you were about to board your plane to surprise him.

The last stage of an encore was finished and all the staff members who kept your company ran to collect their mics and in-ear monitors. Your heart started to beat faster as the familiar voices were louder and clearer. The door suddenly opened and you saw Jake, who was just as surprised as you were. His expression changed, giving you a very telling look, and backed off.

“Sunoo, somebody is waiting for you!” You heard him say and within seconds your boyfriend peeked into the dressing room curiously.

His eyes widened as his lips parted in shock, which soon was replaced by his endearing smile. Without a second thought he slowly wrapped his arms around your form, still in a big shock to see you there.

“Y/nie,” he finally said. “What… what are you doing here?”

“I just couldn’t wait another day without seeing you,” you whispered with closed eyes in bliss of the smell of his perfume and his warm touch. How you missed the feeling of having him so close. “Are you surprised? You didn’t suspect anything?”

“Not at all!” he exclaimed, excitement painting on his face. “When did you arrive?”

“Like, three hours ago.” You pulled away slightly to take a look at your watch. He pulled you back into his hug and placed his head on your shoulder.

“I missed you,” Sunoo confessed, not breaking the hug.

“I know, but I missed you more.”

Yang Jungwon |  양정원

➶ “i’m proud of you” hugs *ೃ༄

yes, jungwon and the “i’m proud of you” agenda continues 😀

in my defense,, he’s an aquarius and as an aquarian myself

i know the pattern, trust me

he might be pretty tough to others but to his close ones? Softie with capital SSS

he’s proud of your every accomplishment even those trivial ones like ordering a takeout 💀

(plus it’s another opportunity to hug you)

Jungwon peeked into your study room, for the nth time this evening, hoping to see you finally away from your computer. But once again he was disappointed with the view of you staring at the screen, writing the report maniacally.

“Love?” he started but you held your palm straight in front of him, eyes not leaving the document.

“Please, don’t. I’m almost done but I need to focus fully.” You said almost incoherently, trying to maintain calm.

He slowly nodded, leaving the room quietly.

To say that he was worried is not enough. He was just as stressed and nervous as you were. Seeing you in distress was probably the worst, but he believed in you. He knew you were going to accomplish everything you do, no matter how little time you have. Though he wished there was a way he could help you.

He walked his way to the kitchen and prepared your favourite tea along with some fruits for you to eat once you’re finished. Which you did, not long after you told him to leave.

His face brightened up at the view of you stretching your arms up cutely in the middle of the living room.

“All finished?” he asked.

“Yes,” you nodded and munched on the piece of the fruit he held in front of you. “Thank you, Won, and I’m sorry if I was rude. That report really drained me and I didn’t want to lash out at you.”

“You didn’t,” he said calmly and cupped your cheeks. You leaned into his embrace, nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck. “I’m so proud of you, Y/nie.” He swung your bodies to the sides, as his hand patted your head lightly. Your phone rang with a notification and you quickly checked out to see your boss’s compliment.

“I knew I could trust you with this, as always quick and effective.” You read the message out loud and smiled confidently.

“That’s my baby.”

Nishimura Riki | 西村力

➶ height difference hugs *ೃ༄

as much as he would want to be viewed as a tsundere bf

he’s not babe, we all know that

he finds you the cutest, no matter if you’re younger, older

what gets him the most? height difference obviously 🙄

seeing that just makes him want to pat your head and stuff

so to keep his image he just pulls you in a hug

“Riki!” Your voice reached his ears. He slowly turned around on your sofa, to face your annoyed state.

“Yes, my lovely Y/nie?” He asked sweetly, pretending to be oblivious. Just as he expected, you pointed to one of the shelves in your kitchen, well, more precisely to the highest shelf. Seeing that he slowly got up and made his way towards your fuming with anger expression, that he found nothing but cute.

“I swear to God, if you don’t stop putting those on the top shelf…” you started but he interrupted you.

“Woah, woah!” His eyebrow raised and he held his palms in front of you. “Do you know that threats are punishable?” He asked seriously, proceeding to put his hand on his chest.

Rolling your eyes you grounded out: “Just hand me that damn flour.”

He smirked and casually reached for the product you needed and put it on a kitchen counter. “My dear, what would you have done without me?”

“I would just get a chair.”

“Yeah, just so your clumsy ass could trip and you would whine to me that you’re hurting.” He said and bopped your nose. Before you could oppose, he continued: “And we don’t want that, do we?” he said as he pulled you towards his body. He naturally placed his head on top of yours and you couldn’t help but melt in his embrace. Your rage soon turned into bliss and calmness of his heartbeat and the occasional pecks he left on the top of your head.

“I just want to be helpful sometimes.” He said quietly.

“You could just also help me cook, and not place everything so high.” You chuckled at his silly argumentation.

“That would be no fun.”

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

taglist: (open) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @skzenhalove, @kpoprhia, @redm4ri, @yenqa, @heesitation , @candewlsy, @jaelaxies

#kflixnet #enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagine #enhypen fic #enhypen headcanons #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen x y/n #enhypen heeseung #heeseung headcanons #heeseung x reader #enhypen jay #jay headcanons #jay x reader #enhypen jake #jake headcanons #jake x reader #enhypen sunghoon #sunghoon headcanons #sunghoon x reader #enhypen sunoo #sunoo headcanons #sunoo x reader #enhypen jungwon #jungwon headcanons #jungwon x reader #enhypen niki #niki headcanons #niki x reader

[brisquad-unit-4402]

Hello it’s me again! It’s been a while, I hope you’ve been doing okay. I recently have been reading through a lot of angst to comfort and I have an idea for a request!

May I request an Ike fic where reader is a liver in NIJISANJI and has a crush on Ike but knows they have no chance with him. Then one day reader accidentally spills their feelings to Ike and Ike comforts them after hearing about readers feelings?

I hope you’re not tired of me requesting Ike fics (ily him to much) and I hope you have a good day/night! <3

-🖋️

stars above your skin

oh 🖋 we're really in it now

how long have i had this request in my inbox? early march? and now exactly one day after blue light dropped, i give you a ~19.5k word ike fic. much love and effort has gone into this one, only seconded by the massive amounts of brainrot.

so yeah, i'm not tired of ike requests. i'm literally a quilldren that writes fanfic. this is the opposite of a problem

in fact this might be one of my favorite things i've written... the second half is such a good bedtime story for me...!

this is going to get NASTY to read on tumblr—as in my site is lagging so hard just typing these a/n notes. so i'm going to remind you all that not only is liking/reblogging recommended to keep track of this fic, but also that i have an ao3 account (same name as url but without dashsince it's much more accessible than tumblr for long fic. i recommend reading on tumblr if you can because of some formatting but to each their own!

here’s a funny story about this fic. i was working on it while a bunch of people sat behind me, you see, and one of my greatest irrational fears is that people sitting behind me will be able to see my laptop screen and laugh at what i’m writing…! and with these requests i usually title them the fandom name and my name, and a short phrase about the request, and this one was “workplace romance”, and i just got so afraid right then and there i changed it to the first thing i could think of, based off a clip i saw of pomu, selen, aia and doppio…!! and that’s why the wip doc is titled “nijisanji 4402 - pliskin”, and why i will always refer to this fic as "pliskin" much more than the actual title

by the way here’s a cover of iris that was pretty fitting for this fic. you’ll know when to play it. enjoy

tags: hurt/comfort, reader is a niji vtuber, gender neutral reader, off-collab, mutual pining, misunderstandings, fluff, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, cuddling, everyone in niji is your wingman, implied uki/ren if you squint but it’s mostly because uki will flirt with 80% of the men in this company

cameos: aia amare, alban knox, mika melatika, nina kosaka, ren zotto, uki violeta, vox akuma, fulgur ovid (mentioned)

⚠️ drinking/alcohol (unspecified if reader drinks alcohol)

⚠️ horror/gore mentions (non-detailed), out of context outlast spoilers i guess?

author's commentary here (spoilers) ↣

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There are dozens of these videos on YouTube, and never have you come across the same one twice. You would know. You have a bad habit of clicking on them. 

After all, they’re labeled with your name on them, and right next to it, Ike Eveland. You are smart enough to recognize it’s not worth your time and just another compilation of the same moments and fans trying to make a mountain out of a molehill, but your heart says otherwise. To be fair, the compilations were a much more recent development than the one you hid under lock and key. 

When you first joined Nijisanji, some of your senpais sent you messages full of greetings and offers to help you get on your feet as a streamer. Ike was one of those senpais, and whenever you popped into voice calls just to hang out, he was easy to talk to, like an old friend. Naturally, a fast friendship formed, and when you debuted, he was one of the first people you collabed with- and the one with the best reception. Your new fans (‘Bookworms,’ they called themselves, after your name Reader) loved how well your humor bounced off each other, and when weeks passed and you announced another collab on your schedule with Ike, your Bookworms rejoiced. 

Even when you weren’t working, you would still talk to him. He told you about his homeland in the past and his novels, both released and unpublished. He was a storyteller even when he was talking about something as minute as making a sandwich, and whenever you brought up your past and interests, he was an excellent listener. You had your differences, but he always knew what questions to ask so he could understand you better, and you loved the opportunity to ramble. 

It had been nearly three months since you debuted, and four if you count the day you were officially hired and began to build yourself as a streamer. Whenever you look at the endlessly long text history between you and Ike, you have to wonder: is it normal to feel so connected to someone you’ve only known for three-maybe-four months? 

You’re not an idiot. You aren’t about to say Ike is the most important thing in the world to you, but he gets pretty damn close. That terrifies you. You shouldn’t be so attached to someone you barely know. 

But then again, you trust Ike. He’s opened up to you about things he would never say to others, and he keeps your secrets buried in the grave. You’ve lost count of how much advice he’s given you, but you’ve never forgotten a single one, and whenever you feel lost about something you know you can count on him to help you out. 

You grimace, sip out of your drinking glass, and press ‘play’ on the next compilation. 

A cute intro plays with the clipper’s name. Above it are the words Pen and Paper, surrounded by puffy pink hearts. 

That was the duo name between you and Ike, but "ship name" was more accurate among fanwork.

You weren’t exactly unaware about it. Weeks ago, you were surfing Twitter and the site’s algorithm granted you your introduction into Pen and Paper. This was shortly after your first collab with Ike, and after you established your shipping rules with your audience (“I’m fine with anything, as long as the other liver is okay with it!”, you proclaimed, totally oblivious to how soon that would blow up in your face). The fanartist posted a messy black-and-white sketch, but you could make out the pattern of Ike’s scarf wrapped around you and him at the same time, forcing your bodies into close proximity with averted eyes and dusty blushes. 

You appreciated the fanartist’s passion and skill, but the thought of you and Ike as an item sunk in your chest like you swallowed a rock. You swiped past. You went back to your scrolling, found some good thumbnails, and retweeted some cute solo fanart, but before the week ended, you made a private account with a fake name and staked out the tags for Pen and Paper to follow that fanartist.

Damn fanartist. You tried to deny it, and told yourself that you followed their art because you liked the style. But their account was full of ship art, and when Twitter gave you similar users that all worked under the hashtag, you had to face facts. If you wanted to look at it optimistically, at least you figured it out early on before anything had the chance to sour while you were still blissfully ignorant of yourself; even then, that doesn’t make it any harder than it already is.

Besides all the texts, the meetings, the schedules and events, and then including the streams and collabs and the art and the fandom… 

“Why?” You ask out loud in the silence of your room. “Why did I have to fall for my coworker?”

And with audiences of over hundreds of people watching you fall for him, nonetheless!

It’s irritating. You have a job that keeps you motivated to work hard. It’s given you a dedicated fanbase, rare opportunities, and coworkers you all recognize as your friends. Really, finding someone to care for because of it should be a blessing, but it’s such a headache. What if your fanbases get jealous, or even worse, outright hate it? Would you be able to keep up a relationship when you and Ike are dedicated to your careers and streams? Why are you even thinking like this? You scold yourself. There’s no way this would ever work out. It’s all fantasy and smoke and mirrors, because fandoms love love. Shipping is never a reflection of the streamers, just the characters you play. You’re delusional if you think your stupid crush could actually go anywhere.

But fandoms love love. The only comfort you have is being able to pretend something could happen. The ship art is a lie, and so are the fanfics, and the clippers that tag their videos as Pen and Paper are just here for a possibility that never could happen.

The compilation is full of little hints and teases, and if you were being honest with yourself, most of it was more like two friends getting along than actual flirting. But you didn’t trust yourself to see your clumsiness for what it is when Ike’s little laughs are like music to your ears. 

Damage control, you tell yourself. It’s like studying how you play your favorite games. You can pinpoint where you stumble and leave yourself open for attack in Apex, Smash, even Crab Game, and then amend those mistakes the next time you pick up the game. Real life should be no different. Just stop acting so dorky all the time by finding moments of dork in your VODs and avoid them next time you talk to Ike.

This clip was from your second collab with Ike. Captions floated along the bottom of the screen. Ike's captions were in his signature blue.

IKE: You know, there’s a lot of content about us two as a duo.

READER: They call us Pen and Paper, right?

IKE: Yeah, my art tag is flooded with art of the both of us. 

READER: Oh my God, look at the chat. Mine’s full of people saying they love us together. 

IKE: Aww, thanks, Quilldren! I’m happy I can play with Reader too. 

READER: Thank you, Bookworms; thank you, Quilldren. Hey, there’s a lot more overlap than I expected.

IKE: They’re like Bookdren.

READER: Or Quillworms.

IKE: Quillworms, that sounds way better. They’re like our children.

READER: www

IKE: www

Never fucking mind about acting so dorky all the time. You kick yourself for bringing up Pen and Paper, and your giggly laugh. You hate it. A neon sign above your head that says “SIMP” would be less obvious than that stupid schoolkid laugh.

But Ike’s laughter is music, back in the moment and now as you revisit it, and his model’s eyes squint with a wide smile.

He really is an amazing man. If you didn’t know him as well as you do, you’d think he’s perfect. But you’ve seen him in moments of vulnerability, the parts of himself that never shows through on stream and even rarer among his friends. Through it all he manages to keep going, and you admire him so much for sticking to his guns even when he’s expressed all his doubts about himself. The fact that he trusts you enough to let his guard down only adds to how honored you are to know him, and at the same time, the fact that there’s so much trust between you two just makes you feel worse for having a crush on him. You hate keeping secrets like this when you let Ike read you like an open book for everything else, and even just wishing you were something more to him feels like a betrayal of all that trust. You wish you could just be satisfied to know him.

The compilation continues. The next clip is a totsu Fall Guys collab hosted by Fulgur Ovid that you and Ike joined in on. Fuuchan got eliminated early in the match, and spectated on you while the other livers ran around Roll On with players tugging them this way and that. 

You moved around the rotating levels at the perfect sweet spot between two rings, and balanced at the top of the roll as the slime level slowly rose.

A longer wall approached, so you shuffled from one level to another, but another player grabbed your bean avatar and dragged you along to the wall even as you yelled out in panic on Discord. You smashed your keys to struggle, but they had an advantage, and it was clear the wall would push you down to the slime for an impending elimination.

That is, until a familiar Miku bean grabbed the other side of your avatar, and pulled the other way towards the ring that would save your life. Resigned, your attacker backed off and barely dodged out of the way while Ike’s Miku bean brought you back to safety.

The other two livers in the game were too noisy to notice you. Fuuchan was commentating every move you made, and when Ike saved you, he said, “Ike coming in clutch, let’s fucking go.”

Your recorded self didn’t hear him at all, though. You swooned, “Ike, my hero!”

Meanwhile in the present, you wanted to puke. You meant for that to sound like an over-the-top joke, but you crush is getting so serious that it sounds less like a bit and more like how you gush about him in private. 

At least Fuuchan’s audio was louder than everyone else, since he was the host, and the other two livers were preoccupied with their own game to notice your lovey-dovey tone and how Ike laughed music at you. It was bad enough clippers transcribed your words in captions, but you weren’t sure how you would handle it if those three picked up on you and your dumb crush. The less that know about your workplace romance, the better.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

“Reader,” Aia coos. Even with audio only, you could tell her eyes were sparkling. “You didn’t tell me you had a workplace romance!”

Well, so much for that plan. You froze over. “Who told you that?”

Mika answers way too quickly. “It’s Alban’s fault.”

“Fuck off, Mika, you brought it up first!”

“You said it though!”

Man, you were already starting to regret joining VC today. You finished your offline work a lot faster than expected, so when you realized that three of your close friends in the company were all online in VC together while Alban privately streamed a rhythm game, you figured you would join the call while you prepared dinner. 

But if that was your greeting, you needed to mentally prepare for the wild interrogation you were about to experience. At least Aia, despite her love for drama, knew how to navigate these sorts of things delicately. And you don’t mean to call Mika and Alban bad friends—they were the exact opposite, in fact—but they were much nosier than Aia ever came across.

“Okay, but Reader just asked who leaked it, and didn’t deny it,” Aia says. “So that means it must be true!”

Scratch that. Aia is the worst out of all of them.

“I hate you guys. No hello or anything, just gossip about my love life,” you lament.

She gasps, and if her eyes were sparkling before, then roses bloomed around her as she spoke. “It’s love?”

Mika shrieks like a banshee. “Oh hell no, you’re in love and you didn’t tell us?!”

“It’s not love. It’s nothing!”

“Nah-uh, Reader, no running away from it, we know,” Alban says. “Better to just get it all out in the open than pretend like nothing’s up.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to snoop.”

“I’m being serious. Keeping stuff bottled up deteriorates you, especially when love’s involved.” He missed a note. “Shit. And yeah, okay, I want some gossip, but I have a point and you know it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, I blew a full combo just to say that!”

“Can I add? In case you forgot, Reader, we’re all in the same company,” Mika says. “Sure, I might be in a different branch, but who knows? Maybe we can help.”

“And fuck you too.” You sigh in defeat. As vitriolic as your shared humor was, these three were still some of your best friends, and you know they don’t mean any harm. “Ugh, I hate this. This is confidential information. Like, CIA levels of confidential. If I tell you guys, you can’t tell a single soul about it. Understand?”

The three all chime in agreement. And unfortunately, you trust them. You take advantage of your coworkers swearing themselves to secrecy to hype yourself up and just rip off the band-aid. “It’s Ike.”

“We know.”

“What the hell do you mean, you know?!”

“It’s obvious,” Aia says. Your heart hammers in your chest. Then she sputters for a moment, like she realized she might’ve hit a soft spot. “Well, you have to focus on it to see it, but once you see it, it’s hard to ignore. You two go well together.”

Alban pitches in. “Agreed. I’m not even gonna be subtle about it, you and Ike have great chemistry. I’m happy for you two.”

“Okay, I guess.” Your eyes drift away from your prepared ingredients to the corner of your kitchen. “But I don’t know. Are you sure? Because I feel like I always act like an idiot whenever I’m around him. And I doubt he’d ever feel the same way.”

“Wait.” Aia pauses. “You’re… not dating?”

“No. Just a crush. Not love, not dating, nothing. And it’s never going to be anything more than that because it’s just a big stupid crush on my coworker, who doesn’t even live close enough to visit, and this is all a recipe for disaster.”

She doesn’t say anything about that. Actually, none of them do. Even Alban pressed pause on his game, and the Discord stream went motionless as your words sunk in. 

Mika is the one to break the silence. “You’re shitting me.”

“That’s the truth. Happy?”

“No, like, you’re shitting me, there’s no way.”

“Mikaaa.” Alban drags out her name as he scolds her. 

“Hey, I’m just saying, that’s crazy, especially since—“

“Don’t tell Reader that!”

“Tell me what?” 

“We thought you were already a thing. You know, dating, in a relationship, whatever,” Mika clarifies. It hits you like a punch to the gut. “Or at least that you had something going on, and kept it secret so it wouldn’t be awkward for everyone else to work with you two. Which, by the way, we’re all chill with, so if, hypothetically, you decided to hypothetically go for it, we would hypothetically cheer you on and set off hypothetical fireworks. I’d rent a food truck.”

Alban resumes his game. “Yeah, what she said. Go get that hypothetical novelist bussy.”

“Don’t hypothetically talk about my brother like that.”

“You’re sure this is okay?” You ask. “Mika, I know you and Ike are close. This isn’t going to make anything weird, is it?”

“You’re fine, Reader. If I had problems, I would’ve cornered you and threatened you over text ages ago when I figured it out.”

“That’s another thing. How did you guys know?”

Aia pipes up first. “I know I said it was obvious, but I think that’s just because we know each other since we’re good friends. You two just go together, you know? It’s hard to explain, but whenever Reader and Ike-senpai are in the same room you think, ‘those two would be cute,’ and then you realize they are cute, right there in the moment. And you talk a lot faster on stream whenever you’re both on the same page. Almost as fast as me.”

 “Plus, it’s really common to see both of you on VC at the same time, and you’re always happy whenever he shows up,” Mika affirms. “Alban says whenever one of you enters the call the other is soon to follow.” 

“It’s true. You talk fast whenever you talk to him on VC too, not just stream. And your laugh kind of changes?”

“Dammit, I knew my laugh was my tell. This sucks. This seriously sucks.”

“It might not be all that bad,” Mika says. “Who knows, maybe things might end up better than you expect. You should tell him.”

“No way,” you fire back. “There no way he’d actually reciprocate. And I know you guys are fine with me asking, but Ike himself is just going to reject me, and it’s going to be awkward, and literally everyone in the company who has ever talked to us will be able to tell something’s up.”

“They won’t be weird,” Aia insists. “We won’t, either, and Ike-senpai is a good guy. Even if it doesn’t work out, he wouldn’t leave you out to dry like that.”

“You don’t know. None of you have ever been in this situation.”

“That’s true, but there’s always a chance.”

“If you ask me, it sounds more like you’re afraid of what you think would happen instead of what rationally would,” Alban says. He’s still laser-focused on his game. “I dunno. If you’re really set on getting over it, then go ahead and ignore it, but that’s just going to eat at you for who knows how long before your crush starts to fade.”

“Well, I didn’t ask.”

“Fine. Forget I said anything.”

You regret the acidic tone in your voice the second you said it, but Alban was off in his own world of music. He’d tell you if he had a problem with how you spoke to him, but you still feel gross about your knee-jerk reaction. 

You’re just… defensive. Yep, that’s the word. Whenever you’re this interested in someone, you put your walls up and protect yourself from letting anyone worm through and hit a weak point. 

Aia hums like an analyst. “Just keep it in mind, Reader. Not everything is out to get you.”

You know your friends just wanted the best for you, but things just aren’t as simple as they’d like to imagine it. It’s none of their business, anyways. It was pure coincidence that they figured out your thoughts on Ike, and that means none of them have any real authority to advise you on your love life.

“I think we’re done talking about this,” you assert.

“Well, you heard ‘em. Pack it up, show’s over.” Mika changed the subject. “Hey, did you guys know if you try to break open a freshly boiled egg, it explodes?”

Alban slams his hands on his keyboard so loudly that you hear the switches over his noise suppression. The stream goes from a string of Awesome! notes to nothing but misses as he abandons the game. “YES. Yes, actually, I DO know.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

“MEAT! WANTS MEAT! WANTS MEAT! MEAT!”

“AAAAAAAAHHHH!”

The stream is to the birds. Fuck that noise. Godspeed to the Bookworms, they’ll need it, but not nearly as much as you. 

When you were settling on a schedule, the last undecided spot for the week was Friday’s stream. That simply wouldn’t do. Friday nights kick off the weekend, and the break from school and work is prime time for a wide audience, so pretty much everyone in Nijisanji reserves their juiciest streams for the weekend. You’re no exception.

…Except for the fact that you didn’t have a clue about what to do for Friday’s stream. One Twitter poll and conveniently timed Steam sale later, you published your schedule with a game your fans voted on: Outlast.

You walked in knowing it would be a horror game, and you figured it would be fine. After all, you’ve played games from Chilla’s Art before, and a few quirky indie psychological releases here and there. You wouldn’t call yourself a stone-faced horror lover that can keep a straight face at anything, but aside from a few creepy moments in those game, you’ve kept your cool relatively well. 

Outlast threw all that out the window. You realized almost immediately that you had no idea how to handle the primal fear of the chase. 

Footsteps pound against a metal floor. You plead for help in the emptiness of your home as you smash the controls, as if that would make your character move the cabinet over the door any faster. Screams resonate in tune between you and the chained man in the room with you, and all the while, the howling of your pursuer grows louder and louder as he gets closer.

You finally uncover the door and dash through. Tremors run though all your thoughts while your heart beats overtime. 

You still haven’t gotten used to all the jumpscares, even though you’re at the edge of your seat and ready to start running yourself. A fork in the road approaches, and when you start off one direction, you’re greeted by a bloodied man in the distance. “AAAHH!”

Faster than light, you slam the key to the other hall and book it. You spot a new storage container to shove in front of the door just in time for text to appear on the screen: Look for pushable objects to block doors.

“No shit, why wouldn’t you tell me that before, oh my God, aaaaah!” The screams—from both the voice actors and your own cries—grate against your eardrums while chase music thunders in-between the gasps for air. 

As you grab the container and start to push, you mash the pause button. When the menu appears, you lean back in your chair and run your hands over your face. Your model pouts cutely while the real you whimpers. The mic barely picks it up.

You take a breath before groaning in fear and pain. “Guys. I don’t think I can do this…” Another groan as you trail off. “This game is so much. Give me a second.”

As you raise yourself back from your chair, it’s with a slump forward. Your chat is full of headpat emotes and hearts in your color, along with some quick words of courage. A few are recommending you take a break. “Thanks, Bookworms. I’m so afraid, but I’m committed and I don’t want to just leave it here.”

Your eyes flutter closed as you take a sip of water to clear your head. The cold drink startles you out of the dingy asylum atmosphere, but the screaming still lingers between your ears. “You know what? Who else is online right now? Maybe I need someone in VC to hold me to this.”

The emojis in chat slowly patter out as your viewers go back to text. Looks like most of your Bookworms like the idea of calling someone else while you stream the game. Some of their messages catch your eye. 

gatamiizuus: you can call ike :ReaderHeadpat: 

messXed-up!: ike!!

lunasmortas: what about ike?

A few more chats mention Ike, and while usually you’d be irritated they mentioned another liver out of the blue, your shoulders still relax at the sight of his name. “Wait, Ike? Is Ike here?”

You scroll back in the chat history, and search for any mod messages. Sure enough, barely a minute ago while you were still being chased:

Ike Eveland 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : GANBARE!

You cling onto that message like a lifeline. Ike is familiar. Ike is comforting. And most importantly, Ike would never call you a pussy.

Chat floods over with his name while you check the official Nijisanji Discord server. Almost everyone in Nijisanji sets their status to offline by default, and Ike is one of them, but you still scan through the member list anyways, praying a little green indicator will light up by his icon.

His status doesn’t change, but before you can even click on his profile, your Direct Messages tab gains a notification. He just messaged you.

Ike Eveland: Watching your stream right now

Ike Eveland: Are you okay?

You exhale. Ike is the most dependable guy you know, even when it’s pure coincidence he was watching your stream while you freaked out. 

With your heart still in your throat, you respond.

Me: uuuuuuugh i guess

Me: the game is really scary

Me: i don’t want to cancel the stream but i don’t think i can play it by myself 😭

Ike Eveland: 🫂    | 🫂 1 |

Ike Eveland: Would you feel better if I called you?

Me: i was just about to ask    | 👌 1 |

Me: you don’t have to if you don’t want to tho!! i don’t want to be a nuisance lol

Ike Eveland: Don’t worry I offered to!

Ike Eveland started a voice call.

“Ikeee!” The second the call starts, all your restraint goes forgotten. “Ike, I was so scared!”

You babble on about everything you’ve endured up to this point: the gore, the grime, and the patients in the asylum that hunt you like animals. 

 “I’m here, it’s alright now,” he assures you. “I’m here, okay? Take your time, you’re safe.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m relieved. But it was so scary.” You sink and bury yourself in the collar of your shirt. “You’ve streamed this before, and kept a cool head the entire time, right? How do you do it?”

“Well, it wasn’t my first time playing, for starters. Everyone gets freaked out at first. It’s a horror game, Reader, it’s okay to react to it. I remember the first time I played it, it scared me so bad I had to quit after half an hour.” He giggles a bit at himself. The sound is comforting. “That was a few years ago. I think I had nightmares about it, until I realized I needed to know the rest of the story. ”

Your voice is small. “That was really brave of you.”

“I avoided it for days. I doubt that’s brave.”

“It’s braver than calling someone just to get the guts to play the game.”

“Hey, don’t put my friend Reader down just to bring me up.” He keeps his tone light to let you know you’re allowed to smile. “Being able to face your fears is plenty on its own, and you shouldn’t be devaluing that. How long have you been at it?”

“A little over two hours?” You glance at the stream monitor, and ignore the chat as much as you can. You still register the hearts in your color and his signature blue. “I don’t know. I did a lot of pausing, too, so it’s probably less than that…”

“But you were still able to stream for that long. Remember, I could only play for thirty minutes during my first time! You’re stronger than you think you are.”

You avert your eyes from your stream setup. You feel painfully seen, but the chat is nothing to you. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Then I’ll be here to remind you. Is that okay?”

“I’d like that.” You return to the screen, and in the darkness of the blurred labyrinth, you see your reflection stare back. Your hair is disheveled from how you kept thrashing around in reaction to the game and your shoulders are high with tension, but only now did you realize how the corners of your lips rose after the call started. Ike really got to you. “Thank you, Ike, you’re so considerate. I appreciate you a lot. You’re a really good guy.”

He chuckles slowly, soft like a blanket. Your shoulders ease. Ike’s words are just as soft, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s nervous too. “Haha, um. Yeah. Thank you?” He doesn’t take compliments well, but they’re true, and you hope he knows it as well as you do. He clears his throat. “Ahem. Um, how are you feeling?”

“Not great, but better. I want to try again.”

“You’ve got this, Reader, you can do it.” Ike is still quiet, but enthusiastic. “You can do it!”

You go shaky. “Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.”

But you still press Return To Game.

And when you scream barely five seconds later, Ike is still calm, and you hone in on his voice as you persevere.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Just as you go to bed, you realize that you basically just made a fool of yourself in front of your crush by getting scared at a game he’s already conquered. 

You slam a pillow over your face and groan.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Ike lands an all-out attack just in time to check the chat and the swarm of viewers that just joined. “Oh, Reader! Thank you for the raid, it’s good to see you! Welcome, everybody.”

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : take care of my bookworms for me? i’m getting milk

“Of course. They’re our Quillworms, after all.” You go fuzzy. He remembered the fan name! “Have a good break, Reader! Rest well.”

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : 👍

It was the end of the week, and the stream you just finished was the last on your schedule. You announced a few days ago that you would take a break for a little more than two weeks so you could catch up on offline work as well as rest, and the Bookworms sent you off with a lot of love. It’ll be hard for some of your diehard fans, but you’re sure they’ll manage. You have a feeling it’ll be easier than they expect. 

“Speaking of breaks, I haven’t finished my schedule yet. I think I’ll wait a day or two to post it.” The stream cracks in red and black as Ike’s party in Persona 5 Royal clobbers the enemy Shadows. Monsters bleed out behind the protagonist’s cocky smirk. “I’ll be offline for the next two days, so I’ll have some time to think about it.”

Ike mashes through the battle results, and sets back off into exploring the palace. His stream fades into background noise as you get back to the task at hand. 

You sent a few messages to some of your other coworkers regarding your break. Next was finishing some paperwork for management, and reaching out to others that needed access to the files. Sure, your time off was for offline work, but the work you had to get done would only take an afternoon at most. You wanted to meet even the far-off deadlines as soon as possible so you could be properly free for the rest of your vacation.

By the time you finished your paperwork, your coworkers were able to respond to you. A group chat full of other livers had a new response every minute about the next two weeks, and Aia sent you a QR code that would let you save some time and money on your flight. 

Ike ended yet another super-long P5R stream just a few minutes after you grabbed all your luggage, got to the airport, and made it to your terminal. You had some time to kill, but you were sick of the headphones over your ears.

Not to mention, you were waiting for the fans to catch up on the real reason why you were on break.

Curiously, you log into your private Twitter—you don’t plan to interact with anything but you’re always paranoid about your online presence—and start searching for the code words fans think Vtubers have no idea about. Symbols replace letters and names morph into sounds while emojis speak volumes.  

The Stargazers don’t mention it at all. That’s to be expected, after all. Their oshi goes on break often, so nothing seems too out of the ordinary. Besides, you wouldn’t put it past them to have even more intricate subtweets than what you’re looking for.

Only a few of Nina’s Honeybunnies put the pieces together at first, but then you check Quilldren subtweets. As it turns out, when Ike mentioned he’d be taking a few days off, a few of his fans noticed how Nina was going to be offline at the same time, and a smaller fraction of those compared how Mika had yet to release a schedule. 

Underneath your face mask, you smile. With the career being dependent on both anonymity and your voice, you wore a nondescript black mask through the entire airport in case someone recognized you, just as well as to hide the tiny giggle that always bubbles up whenever you watch your fans scramble around theorizing. They don’t have all the pieces, after all. None of the Aiadmirers nor the Renvaders even considered it.

They’ll figure it out in time nonetheless. Uki and Nina are close to landing, and Aia was the first to disembark her plane. The rest of your friends are set to arrive after you, and besides, Vox should be ending his last stream of the week right now. You’re sure the Kindred will start plotting in the next hour, provided their oshi didn’t give them too big of a hint about his plans for the next week as he’s known to do.

You board your plane and settle into your seat, ready to nap the flight away. You’ll need the rest, after all. It’s about time you join an off-collab.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Nina doesn’t even get the chance to look away from her phone before she gets a rush of replies on her first voice tweet.

She doesn’t bother to read them anyways. She’s too busy howling out the lyrics to “Wannabe.”

It’ll be hard to discern all the voices. Ike’s high range is always easy to pick out, but Vox blends in as a bass, and you can always hear Mika’s grin through her singing. Ren and Aia are the furthest from the phone, and as loud as they sing, they’re still drowned out along with you, Uki, and Nina herself.

Mika chooses the wrong time to look around the karaoke booth. While Aia sings passionately about what she wants (what she really, really wants), her body language crumples and rises like an electrocuted high school theater kid. The ghost has a hiccuping, sweeping laugh that overpowers half of the singers, and then Aia snorts at herself when Mika covers her mouth, which gets Vox to snort even louder, and before you know it, it’s just Uki and Nina doing their damndest not to break. Even then, Nina’s voice wavers along to the Spice Girls as she resists a laugh, and Uki’s eyes are squeezed shut smiling.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The bar stool slides out from the counter so quietly that you wonder if the Airbnb owner knew just how handy it would be for a house full of streamers on vacation. You lean forward while Mika tells a story about how she, Aia, Ren and you went out for a coffee run, and crossed paths with some teenagers with matching Iluna keychains on their backpacks. 

Speaking of Iluna, their represents sat together on the couch. Aia set her plate and fork on the coffee table, not a single pool of sauce left over from the pasta dinner Vox and Uki prepared together. Somehow Ren made enough room in his luggage to bring along a teal ukulele, and idly strums along. Uki sits between Ren and the armrest, swirling the last of his pasta between his fork.

Across from them, Vox and Nina took ownership of two plush chairs that could only fit one person each. Each chair was next to a corner table, and they stacked their plates on top of one another to make room for a jug of orange juice and two cocktail glasses. Ike took a bottle of rum and poured it into his soda, then slid it back to the corner table before pulling up the bar stool next to you. 

“It was like, one of them had a clear phone case and held it out to show the others a video,” Mika says. She perched on top of the counter itself, next to her travel microphone and the second-nastiest kitchen stream setup you’ve ever seen. She was no Scarle, but so many wires stretched across the island and along the way that it was just easier for her to climb onto the polished granite to keep an eye on the chat. “Smack-dab in the center was a PNG of Vox. And then a bunch of tinier Voxes around it. And here’s how you know it’s bad, you could see the color of the phone itself through the case because it’s clear, right? It was red. Red! That’s commitment!”

“I’m telling you, Mika, there’s no way they got a red phone just because of Vox,” Aia says. “That’s got to be a coincidence.”

Vox hums into his glass. “No, they absolutely did. You mean to tell me your fans don’t spoil you rotten and buy new phones just because they’re your color?”

“My color is white, Vox, like every phone ever is my color!”

“Still, I’ve never seen Aia go so quiet so fast.” Ren’s ukulele twangs as he grins. His fangs were just as prominent in real life. “It was awesome.”

“It was scary, but funny,” you say. “We saw the Vox case and the Iluna keychains, and all of us just went silent. And we all had masks, too, so it was like, one moment you could hear Ren’s fuckboy laugh, and the second we saw the case, we all put up our masks and went quieter than the grave.”

Ren palms the neck of the ukulele and mutes the chord in mock offense. “Hey! I’m not a fuckboy!”

“Didn’t say you were, but if you want to out yourself like that, be my guest. They’d chop off your horns and sell them like Kyo.”

“One of them had an Aster keychain.” Ren bitterly resumes playing. Uki sets his plate on the table and drapes himself over the alien’s shoulder as he opened up his phone to check the off-collab’s live tag. The stream was supposed to be a live Q&A, but was so easy to talk to everyone that the questions often turned into conversation before someone remembered the stream. “If Aia or I said anything, we’d be fucked.”

“Imagine how fucked we would’ve been if Vox woke up in time to go with us,” you say.

Ike snickers. “Is it bad that I would’ve paid money to see that?”

The two Luxiem members get into a playful argument over who would win in a fight: all the effort Nijisanji and its employees put into protecting their privacy, or one silly phone case. Ren’s riffing turns into a simple rendition of “Iris” and Nina hums along from across the living room. The ukulele is slow and unique enough to not be mistaken for the original, but you wonder if those two would be able to avoid copyright entirely.

Nonetheless, the vibe is comfortable. You’re miles away from home, but in a room with some of your closest friends in the world, it’s like you never left. Truthfully, it’s more like you’ve finally found your place. The music just feels right, like it was written for this moment, and Aia leans back into the couch while Nina sways in her seat to the jaunty little ukulele. Ren looks as cheery as his instrument sounds, especially with a peaceful Uki nuzzled up to him. 

While Ike and Vox go at it, Mika props her chin up with both hands and watches them like a reality TV show. There’s a glint in Vox’s eyes as Ike drums up a snide response, the only sane man to the demon’s goofiness. He brings his rum and coke to his lips like punctuation, a silent so, what? hidden in the boozy soda. 

Vox knows how to run his mouth, and he launches into one of his patented anecdotes. While all eyes are on the demon and the chat hones in on his voice, you focus on how Ike tilts his head up to drink. His neck stretches out from the collar of his black band tee, and with each sip, his Adam’s apple bobs. 

You’ve always thought he was good-looking on stream, but he’s gorgeous in person, all long lines and graceful features, and cameras can’t capture the tiny little freckles drizzled down the back of his neck. You didn’t even know he had freckles. It was only after you saw him for the first time that you noticed pale, reddish dots all over his nose and cheeks, fading out by his temples and the arch of his lips. Spending the day walking around in the sun from place to place revealed more whenever the wind flicked his jacket collar out right. They scatter at his nape, right below the blue tips of his hair, and meet one another further down his back, or so you’d presume. Without the jacket, you can catch marks spread out along his arms with distance between one another, and his shirt sleeve starts right where the freckles cluster together. You can only imagine how far down they go.

You avert your eyes. You can’t think about what’s under the shirt when you’re sitting right next to him, and certainly not while on stream, even if chat can’t see you check him out!

Unfortunately, the side opposite of Ike is the one with Ren and Uki. Those two are idyllic. Without a care in the world, it seems. You envy how easily Uki can act on what he wants, even if you know he doesn’t see Ren like how you see Ike. Ren doesn’t mind it at all, either. He literally lives by the rhythm of his own ukulele. 

Ike lowers his drink with his eyes closed, as if it would make the refreshing feeling last longer. His eyelashes are the same ashen color as his hair. Gold gleams between his ears and on the chain of his glasses.

Possessed by the music, and distracted by the rambling, you become one with the background and lean along Ike’s arm.

It’s an indulgent dip into the waters, but shallow compared to all you feel for him. Ever since you met Ike in person it’s been easier to control yourself around him, and if anything, you’re reminded that this is the man you’ve gotten the closest to in both career and friendship. The only barrier between your cheek and his body is his shirt sleeve, but your arm rests against his forearm, right where the freckles taper off. There’s no resistance at all as you make yourself comfortable in the crook of his arm. 

But you hold yourself back. Even though the off-collab made you feel gutsier than before, you think that you’d pass out if you tried anything else. Besides, you feel so at peace against his arm, but too afraid to look up and see his reaction. 

The blend of peace and fear churns in your heart as it dawns on you: you were wrong to call this a crush. It runs far deeper than you could’ve imagined.

Vox says something with finality. His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, but the words go unregistered. As he spoke, his eyes drifted around with his body language, but he snaps to look at Ike expectantly. You swear his smirk gets a little more mischievous as he does. 

The air stills, even though you know eyes aren’t on you, just the man you lean on. It stays frozen as Ike waits to respond. You still don’t have the heart to look up at him and break your selfish, unrequited fantasy.

You just want to stay here, unresisted.

Ike deadpans. “Anyways.”

Just like that, the moment is over, and Mika laughing at Vox striking out clears the air around you. But Vox’s eyes fall to you for just a split second as he moves in his seat. Frost settles down your back at the thought that he knows, but there’s a solid chance he hasn’t connected the dots. You pray he hasn’t.

Then you see Fox Mom herself right behind him, and she shoots you a shit-eating grin with a hand over her heart and a glass in the other. 

No doubt about it. You’re screwed. 

The frost turns to glaciers and burns into hot shame all at once. You love Nina, you really do, and you’d always consider her a good friend before coworker. However, she’s known for fishing around for any crumb of fanservice, and she gets straight to the point whenever she eggs it on, not to mention how she loves to tease her kids on just about anything. You are never going to hear the end of this if she can help it.

You really don’t know what you expected. It feels like everyone’s staring at you, even the chat. You can’t help but feel bitter. How come Uki can flirt with as many guys as he wants, you wonder, but I can’t even touch Ike without getting eyed up? 

You know the answer, but it doesn’t do anything to help the bitterness and the embarrassment, and how much you want to hide. On instinct, you take advantage of the warmth and nestle yourself deeper into Ike to hide your face, just in time as he curls his head above yours.

Nina makes a sound kind of like a fork stuck in the garbage disposal for the briefest of moments before smashing her lips together and bringing her glass to her mouth like a mute button. As if you didn’t feel seen enough. 

“Find any other questions, Uki-senpai?” Aia’s nose is buried in her phone, and God, you could kiss her for changing the subject. As much as she poked fun about you about Ike, she was still a total angel and a ride-or-die all at once. 

“Oh, I have questions,” Uki says. Luckily, he’s graceful enough to leave it at that. “Twitter wants to know first impressions for everyone that hasn’t off-collabed before.”

Ren speaks. “I think the only person I’ve done an off-collab with before is Nina, so is it cool if I go first?”

Aia gestures for him to go on. She’s still stuck on her phone as he continues.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, but you ignore it. Then again and again and again, and when you finally check it, you understand why. When Aia, Mika and Alban first heard you spill your feelings for Ike, they made a group chat dedicated to wingmanning—or at least, that’s what they pitched it as. They tease you more than anything else, and as irritating as it gets… you have to admit, it’s nice to confide in them, and nice to know they wouldn’t hold it against you.

Anyways, Alban’s going apeshit. 

Group Chat: 💙 PENANDPAPER REAL 2K4EVER 💕 (4 Members)

Aia Amare: image.png    | 📌 2 |

Alban Knox: AKDHSLSJDKSHSA

Alban Knox: AASDFSDF

Alban Knox: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Alban Knox: AAAAAAAAAA

Alban Knox: HAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAA AAAAAAA KYAAAAAAAA

Alban Knox: 💕💕💕💙💕💙💕💙💙💙💕💙💕💕💙

Alban Knox: 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

Alban Knox: HOW ARE YOU GUYSS NOT LOSING YUOR MINDSA BOUT THIS

Aia Amare: I AM

Me: omfg did you seriously get a picture of us 

Alban Knox: WHAT ARE YOU DOINGGGGGGG DONT CHDCK THIS GC    | 👆 1 |

Me: wtf did you expect you’re spamming 

Alban Knox: YOU AR ELITERALLY CUDDLNG GO FOCUS ON THAY JOT US

Me: we are not cuddling

Alban Knox: YOU ARE

Aia Amare: YOU ARE

Mika Melatika pinned a message.     | 🖕 1 |

Me: mika wth you too? 😭 

Mika Melatika: image.png

Me: did you srsly take a selfie with us in the background

Mika Melatika: YES this needs to be immortalized

Me: you people suck    | 🥰 3 |

Alban Knox: GET THAT NOVELIST BUSSY!!!!

Aia Amare: As if you aren’t about to save that picture yourself~

Alban Knox: NOVELUSSY!!!!!!!!!

Fuck, she got you there. You cast a pointed look at the angelic maiden herself, or at least as pointed as you can be with a man you’re scared to love wrapped around you. She looks as satisfied as a cat pushing a glass off a counter. 

You set your phone on ‘do not disturb’ and placed it behind you on the counter with a huff.

“Reader, honey, how about you?” Nina leans forward, half-lidded and as sultry as ever. She swirled her drink around in its glass. “It’s your first off-collab ever, right? I’d love to hear what you have to say.”

“Oh, well, um.” Your brain struggles to catch up. “First impressions, right…”

Aia slips you a thumbs up. You’re going to rip her a new one after this. Her, and Mika, and definitely Nina; this is the most subtle Nina’s ever been but you can tell she’s fishing for an answer here. You can take your friends figuring it out, embarrassing as it is, but you are not about to expose yourself to thousands of live viewers. 

“It’s kind of crazy actually meeting up with everyone,” you start. “I’ve known them for so long, but all online, and being able to match the voice to the face in real life, I don’t think I can actually describe it. It’s kind of surreal, but it feels so nice to just talk to them in person. Aia, Nina and Uki were the first people I met up with, and man, those three are a sight. I know everyone says it, but Uki is absolutely the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Nina and Aia are really pretty, too. Hey, Aiadmirers, did you know when your oshi laughs, she looks just as cute as she sounds?”

Aia yells. “Reader, shut up!”

“Then stop being so cute all the time, you dork!” 

“I’m not a dork! I’m cool!”

You resume, satisfied with your revenge. “Mika and Vox are both really chill. They’re kind of quiet, so if you’re just walking by, you’d think they’re two normal people just going about their days. But whenever we talk it’s always something insane. Vox sounds like a dignified gentleman and Mika is kind of like that cool girl that you want to be friends with, but if you actually pay attention, Mika’s showing Vox a picture of her insides during surgery while he’s reciting something about the Bite of ‘87. And Ren is probably one of the most straightforward people you’ll ever see. He’s so optimistic, and really expressive, too, even though most of the expressions are all different types of smiles.”

“What’s your impression of Ike?” Nina asks.

What does she expect you to say to that one, that screens can’t capture how the sun glitters through his glassy green eyes? Hearing him say your name in-person sends shockwaves through your body? How you want to kiss every little freckle he’s never mentioned before and keeps hidden under long sleeves, even though it’s the beautiful skin he lives in daily?

“Same old Ike. He’s exactly like how I expected,” you say. A total fib. 

She cocks her head. “Really? Even after all the time you’ve spent together?”

“I’m trying to hang out with everyone.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Cornered. Nina takes a long, slow drink from her glass as you scramble for a quick answer that won’t immediately out you. “Whenever I talk to Ike, he’s really emotive. You can tell what he’s thinking before he says anything. He also has a good sense of style, so he’s fun to go shopping with, and honestly, fun to do anything with. He’s someone you can always have a good time with, and always makes you feel so comfortable around him. Ike’s magnetic.”

Mika muffles a coo behind you. You’re going to kill her if you survive this stream.

“That’s very sweet, Reader,” Nina replies. “Hear that, Ike?”

“Yes, I did.” He sounds strained.

“Got any feelings about it?”

“Yes? I mean—er, thanks?” You feel Ike’s head rustle. “I, umm. What am I supposed to say about that?”

“I don’t know. I just think that about you, that’s all…”

“Aww, cute. I love that you love each other,” Nina muses. 

Ike spits out, “It’s not like that!” Just as you admit, “Yeah, I guess so.”

You process his words too late, though, and even as you sputter the ukulele music cuts out just in time with Nina and Mika’s unfiltered fangirl squeals. Ren’s palms mute the chord as his eyes go wide. Aia is already on her phone with her jaw to the floor and Uki throws a look at Nina while he mouths, did that just happen? 

“I-I mean!” Your throat goes dry and Ike lurches away from you when Vox gleefully shakes Nina like a rag doll. “I—wh—Ike, I mean, of course I love you—“ Mika screams again— “As a friend!”

When you turn to face Ike, he’s curled up into a ball on the barstool with his shirt collar over his face. Even as you feel the blood rush to your face, you keep shouting. That’s all you have left. You’re live. “Like, we’re best friends on and off stream and I love you!”

He mutters something, but you can’t tell what. Only his neck and the tips of his ears poke out from his shirt. Were they always that red?

You repeat yourself. “I said, we’re best friends and I love you, so much!”

“And I said, I know, thank you, I love you too, Reader!” Ike jerks out to face you as he cries. He looks like a tomato. 

Then he buries his face into his hands and squeaks like how he always does when something’s too cute to handle, or he’s got too many emotions he needs to let out. “You can’t see me, I’m too embarrassed. I’m hiding forever and I’m never coming out.”

You hope the ground swallows you up and you never have to confront this moment again. 

Uki hisses under his breath and muffles Ren's ukulele. You don't know what he said, but you realize all too late that the alien prince himself was laying down the first few notes of “Fly Me To The Moon.”

While you slump and fold your arms over your face on the counter in pure embarrassment, Aia stands up and commandeers the mic. She slaps a hand over Mika’s mouth to muffle the scream. “Man, bummer that Ike-senpai is gone from us forever, but you know what else might be gone forever if you don’t get it now? The sponsor for this stream, our current limited-edition Nijisanji voice packs!”

And as much as you could kiss her yet again for changing the subject, you can’t get over how everything blew up in the last five minutes, and groan into your arms instead. 

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The stream passed, luckily, without a hitch after that. No one asked any questions, but it was pretty damn clear everyone in the room had an idea of what just happened, and the impending shitstorm. In fact, it was so clear that when you stalked off to your room to sulk, no one made a fuss, and when you realized ten minutes into your sulking session that you left your phone on the counter, you figured it wasn’t worth it to show your face again until after you finished your pity party. 

The entire time, you laid in your bed with a pillow over your face so you could pretend like you were being absorbed into the sweet embrace of death. Overdramatic, sure, but you figured you were justified. 

Without your phone, you had no way to check exactly how bad the fallout was on Twitter. The poor Pen and Paper tags were sure to be flooded with fans imagining a happy ending to that stint you’d never be able to experience yourself, like salt in the wound. Not to mention, it was a huge seven-person off-collab! It didn’t just end with the Pen and Paper fans. No, it would extend past the Bookworms and the Quilldren, and certainly to the rest of the fandoms with an oshi in this Airbnb. Maybe even the offshoot viewers who don’t regularly watch your content, but made an exception for the off-collab, or, you know, the ones who have no idea who you or Ike are but can’t get enough of the whole accidental-confession-live-on-stream thing. Forget Nina; the entire Vtuber community is never, ever, ever going to live this down. 

Ike sounded so distraught, too. You wanted to kick yourself for it. Not only did you make a fool of yourself, but he got caught in the crossfire just because you didn’t catch yourself slipping. Not like he’d reciprocate anyways. He’s always been bad at taking compliments, but you keep thinking about how embarrassed he was about you loving him. 

All your frustration and humiliation coursed through the darkness under your pillow, and you stew so bitterly that you don’t even dream when you fall asleep. 

You just wake up groggy and exhausted, but too restless to go back to sleep. You look out the window, and the stars have barely come out to play in the early night sky. 

As much as you’d hate to admit it, that impromptu nap made you tired of brooding. Besides, you can’t hide from your friends forever. Hopelessly in love or not, they’re still your friends, and even if you decided to stream during the trip, this off-collab was always about spending time with them instead of worrying over your online presence. 

It takes you half an hour to hype yourself up, but eventually, you open your door and step out into the hall. 

You can already hear voices further away in the Airbnb. You place one of them as Nina, and after her, a baritone that could only belong to Vox. 

“…Fuck Twitter, they’re going to forget about it in two weeks or less anyways.” You overhear as you walk down the hall of rooms and closer to the living room. You’ve heard Vox passionate before, but never this serious as well. “Besides, what exactly did they say?”

A mumble. You can’t place the words, but you bristle when you recognize the voice. That’s unmistakably Ike. 

“See? Again, I’m so sorry. I was out of line, and I forgot my place. I shouldn’t have interrogated them like that,” Nina says. “But you’re overthinking what they said.”

Another mumble. By now, you’re in the kitchen. You lift your phone from where you left it, and hold your fingers over the half of the screen where your notifications appear as you check the time. It’s barely 11 PM. 

The kitchen and living room are connected, with plenty of seating space all around. That was why Mika’s travel laptop was still on the counter and plugged into the wall from the stream earlier, but on the other side of the wall from the kitchen, you noticed an open window and silhouettes from it. Four people sat on the shallow roof overlooking the uneven ground plenty of feet under the building. A pair of fox ears twitch at the night wind as they watched the stars grow brighter in the sky. 

You look through the fridge. You’re peckish, but if you were to be honest with yourself, you’re trying to stay quiet for a reason. 

There’s a huff. “Oh my god, dude. Just tell Reader already.”

You stand up a little straighter. Mika was with them? Were they talking about you?

“There’s nothing to be said, Mika!” Ike huffs back. “I’m screwed anyways. Just drop it, okay? I don’t need this getting in the way of what was supposed to be just a normal trip.”

“You can’t keep running away forever. Just act like an adult and tell them. It’s going to be fine, I swear.”

“And how exactly do you know that?”

“Well…” Mika trails off. “I can’t say. I just know, okay?”

“Uh-huh. And I know I’m screwed.” The wind rustles outside. You stay motionless. “Just two weeks. Can I please just have two weeks where I don’t have to worry about this until the trip is over.”

It’s a question, but he says it with such exasperation that no one can consider any other answers. 

“Fine.” Nina relinquishes. “Have it your way. I’m just worried for you two.”

“It’s going to work out, Ike. But I’m tired.” Vox stifles a yawn. “Tomorrow is going to be better. Let it go for the night and come back to it once you’re in better shape, and just remember. It’s going to work out.”

“Thanks, Vox.”

“Now get in here.”

You hear shuffling fabric before the two men start yelling. Vox cackles while Ike cries through gritted teeth. “Dang it, Vox, I’m going to shove you off this roof!”

“Get ruffled, idiot! That’s your fault for trusting me!”

“I just wanted a hug!”

You snicker under your breath. Vox loves to ruffle Ike’s hair despite the latter’s protests, though he tends to accept it instead of shove him off like anyone else that would dare. Besides, as dreary as Ike sounded during that conversation, he nearly sounded like his old self as Vox and the others laughed.

“I think I’ll go too. Mommy needs her beauty sleep.”

“Mm, I’m still pretty awake. Wanna keep looking at the sky with me, Ike?”

“Sure. Here, Nina, let me move out of the way…”

Shuffling turns to footsteps, and brings you back to reality. You busy yourself looking through the paltry groceries.

The sound of footsteps gets louder and louder, until they become a hollow click on the hardwood floor. Nina crawls through the window, but stops in her tracks with a startled noise.

You turn around and nod as casually as possible. “Oh, hey, Nina.”

Vox is also halfway through the window, and his eyes go comically wide as he forgets how to move. “Oh. Hey. Reader. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yeah! Um!” Nina coughs long enough to make you uncomfortable. “What are you doing here?”

“Took a nap. Got hungry.” It’s not a lie. You grope around in the fridge and breathe a sigh of relief when you see a stick of string cheese in your hands. “You guys just hanging out?”

Nina nods. “Yeah, we were on the roof. It’s getting late, though. You should get some rest for tomorrow—“

Vox elbows her. “But not after looking at the sky for a little bit. It’s beautiful. Very clear. Romantic, even. The architects did a wonderful job placing this house right at the perfect angle to watch the stars rise. Did I mention it was romantic?”

You act natural and take a big bite out of the string cheese. “Once or twice. Is it the seniors’ bedtime?”

“You got me,” Vox says. 

“I love going to sleep early and giving my kids private time before bed to reflect and hold deep conversations with one another about their feelings,” Nina says. “And also nighttime face masks.”

“Woo, skincare, what she said.” 

“Hey, by the way, Reader, honey, did you hear anything we talked about?”

“No,” you lie.

“Cool,” Vox says. You eat the rest of the string cheese in one bite. “Good for you. And goodnight, Reader.” He dusts himself off before casting his golden gaze down at you. “Be nice, will you?”

Shivers go down your back. You have a feeling he’s referring to something unspoken. “I will.”

“That’s my sweet thing,” he purrs. “Anyways, I’m going the fuck to beddy bye. Honk shoo, Reader, don’t stay up too late.”

Vox struts off with dark hair flowing behind him and the scent of his aftershave in the air. He leaves you to stand awkwardly next to Nina. 

Suddenly, she takes you by your shoulders and forces you in front of her. You blurt out an unflattering startled noise before she gets right up in your face and stares dead into your eyes.  

“Please be good,” she says darkly. Was that a threat? “Please be so, so good to my baby.”

“I will,” you say, more out of fear than anything else.

She blinks once, then she’s back to the doting mother you know and love. She squeezes your shoulders. “Thank you, honey! Sweet dreams!”

And just like the Voice Demon before her, Nina bounds off to her room. 

Huh. That was weird. Nonetheless, you’re alone in the living room, and you can see the outline of Ike and Mika sitting on the roof in silence. 

You lightly knock on the side of the window. They both perk up at the sound. “Cool if I join you?”

Mika responds quickly. “Sure! Watch your step, Reader. The roof isn’t that steep but it would be awkward if you ate shit.”

“Agreed.” You step onto the tiling, and shift your body to match the angle. You feel like a newborn deer learning to walk. Luckily, Nina and Vox leaving meant that there was more than enough space for you right next to the window. 

Ike sits between you and Mika. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah…” 

‘Pretty’ is putting it mildly. The stars are so clear tonight, and scatter across the sky like sequins. The Airbnb was located further away from the heart of the city, so the darkness only amplified how bright the stars shone against the stark night. A breeze drags through the air and fallen leaves rustle between the grass. 

“This is so nice.” Comfort settles into you like the breeze in your hair. “I love it.”

Ike sighs. “Right? It’s so peaceful.”

“And there’s so many more stars out here than there are in the city.”

“It makes you want to just zone out and cool down.”

“Yeah, totally.” Mika coughs. “Huh! Cool! Well, I’m tired now. Just keep staying out here and enjoy the sky, I’m going to bed. Enjoy yourselves.”

Mika inelegantly shuffles around your bodies and slips back inside before either of you can properly tell her goodnight. 

Ike cocks his head as he watches her stumble through the window. “She just said she would stay out…”

“Hm?”

“Ah, nothing. Just thinking to myself.”

With the extra space, Ike leans back and lays along the roof. The stars cast a dreamy glow over his soft smile as he continues. “It really is something that just makes you want to have a deep conversation, or just think, you know?”

You hum in agreement. You get what he means, but there’s only one topic you can imagine having a deep conversation about right now, and it’s the very one you brooded over earlier that day. 

But Ike is Ike. He’s rational and calm and kind, and laughs at your stupid jokes, and texts you first before any of your other mutual friends. The night turns the tips of his hair bluer than usual, and the stars remind you of the freckles hidden along his creamy skin. His glasses reflect the galaxy above.

Even though today’s stream was embarrassing, you know Ike trusts you enough to tell you if you’ve ever crossed a boundary. After all, it’s commonplace to discuss limits on and off stream as soon as possible, and your friendship was so strong that you’ve both opened up to one another. He’d let you know if the whole cuddling thing was too much. Besides, he didn’t resist. He even rested his head on yours. That has to account for something, right?

You snap out of your thoughts when you feel a gentle tug on the sleeve of your hoodie. It’s Ike. He asks, “Lay down with me?”

A wave of fondness washes over you like the tide. He’s cute when he’s earnest like this. You get as comfortable as you can on the tiling, and when you still, you hear something shift before your hand grows warm. Ike scooted closer to you, and placed his pinky finger over yours. 

This is bliss. A beautiful sight with a beautiful boy next to you. Your best friend. 

“I do love you,” you say. 

It just feels right to say. 

Ike is silent. He doesn’t make a single sound as you stare up at the stars and the blackened sky. The breeze rocks a tree, and as the leaves part, you see the moon for the first time: one thin, waning crescent that blends into the darkness. 

Ike’s head is turned away from you. You can’t tell what he’s thinking at all. 

“…I don’t know what you mean,” he admits. “You do? As a friend?”

“We’ve always been friends.”

“Just that?”

“I don’t know what you’re asking me, Ike.”

“N-never mind. I’m sorry, am I making it weird?”

“No, you could never make it weird.” The colors of the view gloss together. You feel like a balloon slowly deflating. “Feels like that’s all I’m doing lately, though.”

Neither of you say anything. 

This was a bad idea. 

You swear the rustling leaves mock you. 

“Wait.” Ike practically snatches your hand up. “Wait, Reader, are you saying you like me?”

“Yeah. I’m saying that I love you.”

Ike stares at you, and if you had to choose just one word to describe his expression, it’s stricken. His mouth is slightly parted, and his shocked eyes drive holes through your skin, leaving you exposed. The brief stutter that escapes him sounds like it was dredged out from frozen, murky waters. “I—”

He drops your hand and turns away. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, barely audible. “This is… this is a lot.”

“I’m sorry too, this was a stupid idea. What was I thinking?” You get on your feet, but the slope makes what could’ve been a fluid motion into a stumbling, slow rise, as if your legs weren’t jelly enough already. You inch to the window mortified. “I think I should go. Sorry to bother you.”

You don’t dare to glance at him before you step back inside, not even when he calls your name halfway through the window.

Once you’re back in the living room, you cover your face, then drag your hands through your hair. You can’t even begin to describe how exhausted you feel. This is heartbreak, isn’t it?

You blink furiously, and the outline of a figure by the fridge comes into view. 

“Reader?” Mika asks. She has a stick of string cheese in her hand, but walks to you. “Reader, what happened—”

You take her empty hand and pace to your room. You open the door. “Are you okay?”

The second it shuts, your breath hitches. Mika doesn’t hesitate to take you in her arms. She holds you as the first tear falls, and you begin to cry.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You wake up the next day sprawled in your bed, even though the blankets are tucked comfortably around you. On the floor is a pillow and another pile of blankets, and when you recognize the dark hair tied into a loose ponytail, the memories of last night come rushing back.

What an awful night. Awful decisions all day, really, and all of them ones you made. You really don’t know what you were thinking. You groan at the memory.

“Reader?” Mika perks up. Her phone is in her hands, but she sits up level to your face on the floor. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

Another groan.

“Yeah, I figured,” she says. “Nina, Vox and Ike went out to do their own thing, and I think Ren and Uki are cafe-hopping. It’s just you, me and Aia in the house right now.”

You rub the sleepy out of your eyes. “That’s cool, I guess.” You cast a downward glance to Mika’s makeshift bed on the floor. “Sorry for being a nuisance.”

“You’re not a nuisance, Reader, don’t say that.” She nudges you. “We’re friends. It’s what friends do. Speaking of, do you want Aia to come by? And Alban’s online, so I can call him, too. If you want.”

“It’d be nice…”

Less than ten minutes pass before Aia shows up at your door with breakfast sandwiches and orange juice. All three of you sit on the blanketed floor while Mika voice calls Alban on her phone. A pot of coffee brews over speakerphone as you recount last night. 

“...And to make things worse, we just streamed yesterday,” you explain. “God, I should check Twitter. There’s got to be a million people with eyes on our ship tag, and ugh, I hate thinking about how many weirdos are going to push a ship that can’t work out IRL.”

“I can check it for you,” Aia offers. You hand her your phone. “You remember your Twitter password?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Sorry in advance.” She deletes the app off your home screen.

You begin to protest, but she turns off the phone and sets it aside, out of your reach. “You’re off the clock, Reader! Work troubles can wait until you’re back online, and that includes doomscrolling. You can redownload it when you’re in a better headspace.”

“I really hate admitting you’re right.”

“Shit, Reader,” Alban finally says. “He seriously dropped the ball. I’m sorry.”

“I know. I really thought he would get it, but it took him so long to piece it together, like he never thought about us like that before. I should’ve known it was just me. I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, you’re hurt,” Mika says. “It’s understandable, but that still doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“Is it wrong that I feel like I deserve it? I mean, I knew day one that this wouldn’t work out. We work together online, and we have fans that ship us with each other and the rest of this company, for fuck’s sake. Getting heartbroken was inevitable and I still went for it. Either I’m a glutton for pain or I’m just plain clueless.”

Alban’s voice is distant from the phone as he messes with his coffee maker. You can’t properly hear him under his breath and over the pot, but if you could, you could’ve heard him mumble, Trust me, you’re not the only clueless one here.

But he returns back at the phone, and you’re totally oblivious. “You can’t choose who you fall for,” he says. “It was really that bad?”

“It took him like a minute to realize I was confessing. And then when he realized it, he apologized to me.”

Aia straightens. “Did he say no?”

“Not really, but why would he apologize if he reciprocated?”

Aia exchanges a look with Mika. Alban grumbles. “No fucking way.”

“Tell me exactly how he reacted,” Aia instructs. She plowed through her sandwich during the conversation, but she left the remaining half on her plate forgotten as she laced her fingers together and leaned forward like a calculated boss. 

“It was like he couldn’t comprehend what I was saying at first. He asked if I meant it as friends, until he asked me if I liked him. And when I told him I loved him in response, he was so shocked that he let go of my hand, so I left.”

“No fucking way,” Alban repeats, and groans as he drawls out his words. You can practically hear him drag his hands over his face. “No fucking way. Ikeeeee. He seriously dropped the ball.”

“I know. I can’t believe it.”

Aia takes both of your hands in her own. “Reader, I’m not even saying this to hurt you, but this is the clumsiest confession I’ve ever heard of.”

You squint. “Right, that makes me feel so much better.”

“I’m really not! You know what this sounds like? Miscommunication,” she declares. “You didn’t get a solid yes or no. So now it’s going to be awkward between you two until you get an actual answer to the confession, or at least some kind of resolution. You wanna know what I think? It sounds like he didn’t even believe what he was hearing before you left. Which, by the way, is a common response to not just confessions but other major news, so chances are you didn’t blow up your friendship as hard as you thought.”

“She has a point,” Alban says. “I believe you, Reader, but Ike isn’t the type of person to just crush other people’s feelings like that. You just woke up, right?”

“I haven’t even left my room yet. Mika says everyone else is out of the house. He’s with Vox and Nina, I think.”

“So then he hasn’t had a chance to talk to you since the confession,” he continues. “And those three are really close. I’m willing to bet they’re helping him manage it, ‘cause it sounds like he’s going through it just as confused as you are.”

You stare at the floor. Hope feels foreign, yet you can’t help but wonder. You struggle to remember the exact way Ike reacted last night, but you really can’t tell what facts were clouded over by the rejection. A rejection that possibly didn’t even happen, mind you. The confusion and regret blurs over everything like water on wet ink.

“You really think so?” You quietly ask.

Aia nods, and Alban agrees over the phone.

Mika pipes up, a glass of juice in her hands. “Here’s my take. We can theorize as much as we want, but none of us really know what Ike’s thinking about, least of all you. Especially since you didn’t actually resolve anything, and that tension is going to eat at you until you get an answer or it actually damages your friendship. You ask me, the next best thing you can do is bring it up.”

She takes a sip of her juice and leaves you to absorb her advice. 

You mull it over along with the memory of last night. “He called my name as I left.”

Alban chokes on his coffee. “He called your name?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t respond.”

“Oh my God. READER!” He shouts so loud that Mika turns the volume down. “I’m going to lose it. I’m actually freaking it right now. Reader!”

“What?”

“Fuck what Mika said earlier, you are stupid!”

“Hey!”

“I’m saying this in the nicest way possible, you are so stupid. He was trying to talk to you!”

Your face goes through a handful of emotions as you sputter. “Are you serious, Alban?”

“Yes! Mika, Aia, back me up.”

Aia crinkles her nose. “I did just say it sounded like a total miscommunication.”

Meanwhile, Mika twirls a lock of red-and-black hair between her finger, distracting herself. She hesitates, trying to figure out exactly how she wants to say her piece, before she simply shakes her head and stills. “Just talk to him.”

“Which is easier said than done.” Your shoulders roll back as you stare up at the ceiling, your hands supporting you as you lean. Even with your friends’ encouragement, the memory of how hard you blew it last night still haunts you. It’s even worse than starting at ground zero; you’ve already tasted failure once, and you’re hesitant to embarrass yourself again. 

That stricken look Ike gave you flashes across your sight every time you blink. What was he thinking when he stared at you like that? You can’t tell if the disgust is true or if your anxieties are getting the best of you.

The best solution to anxieties, however, is looking at the facts—or at least, what isn’t tainted by your bias. Your friends mentioned there was nothing wrong with a workplace romance, and as much as the stream made you want to cringe, no one seemed put off by it. Alban and Aia are set on getting you and Ike to talk, and so is Mika. In fact, Mika spoke with Ike as well as Vox and Nina last night before you entered, and even if you had no idea what those four were talking about, you still picked up your name and that apparently Ike had something to tell you.

Pieces start to fall into place when you consider the three around you, staging an intervention over a late breakfast. Aia always gets you in situations where you can be close to Ike and bails you out when it gets awkward, and as much as he won’t get off your back about it, Alban gave you great advice between all his teasing. Mika was nosy at first when she learned about your feelings, but now that you think about it, she’s been incredibly tactful ever since the off-collab began. 

You can’t help but snicker as you connect the dots. “Is this the first time you guys actually started wingmanning for me?”

Aia purses her lips. “Hey, not the first. Remember when we made that group chat? We’ve always been your wingmen.”

“I know. But you guys are seriously helping,” you say. “Thanks. Though I do wonder, Mika…”

She perks up as you say her name. “Be real with me. Do you know more than you’re letting on?”

She flinches. Alban’s fingers snap over the phone. “Busted.”

Mika holds her hands up like a criminal caught in the act, but there’s a loose, sly smile hanging on her face. “I don’t think it’s my place to say.”

“What do you mean, it’s not your place to say?”

“I’m sorry, Reader, but I made a promise not to spill, and I’ve been doing way too much behind the scenes to break the promise like that. Just do me a favor and talk to the guy, will you? That’s the best I can tell you.” Mika rests her head in a hand, and the smirk looks even more knowing. “And if you can’t figure it out after that, then you’re definitely stupid.”

You bluster. “I’m not stupid!” 

“Still remains to be seen.” Aia gently flicks your forehead. “But you do look a lot better. How are you feeling now?”

Aside from the fading pain on your forehead? You’re surprised at how much lighter you feel now that you unloaded all your worries with your friends. The rejection still stings, and you’re not exactly confident, but, well, you’re smiling. The clean, tangy taste of orange juice lingers between your tongue. Aia and Mika sitting on the pile of blankets reminds you that regardless of your love life, they’d stay by your side until the bitter end, and Alban’s voice keeps you connected with your friends no matter where in the world you are.

You snatch Aia’s half-eaten sandwich off her plate and sink your teeth into the bread. She cries out in protest. “Hey!”

“Better now.” You set the sandwich back where you found it. Even though your future with Ike looks cloudy, the smile doesn’t leave. “Don’t flick me.”

“Speaking of.” Mika picks up the phone and scrolls through her messages. “Nina just texted that she, Vox and Ike will come back in an hour or less. Reader, are you up for this?”

“What do you mean, ‘up for this?’”

“Just seeing Ike again. It was a weird night,” she says. “I stand by what I said, but if it’s going to be too much too soon, then Aia and I can cover for you until you feel better.”

“I don’t know.” That’s what gets your expression to sink from light to thoughtful. “I think I want to take your advice. I just don’t know if I’m ready to talk it out yet.”

“Still wanna hang out with us or take a moment to yourself?”

“I think I’d just go back to moping if I was alone,” you joke.

“Cool. Let me go grab some nail polish Nina gave me yesterday.” Mika rises and strides to the door. “You have a steadier hand than me. And Nina said the color suits me more than her.”

Aia’s face lights up. She happily cries ”Girls’ night!” even though it’s barely noon and Alban is decidedly not a girl, but then he croons something in a valley girl accent so strong you can’t even tell what he’s saying. Scratch that; he’s a girl by association.

When he drawls out one long “Yaaaaaas, bestie!” you can’t help but laugh. Your love life is in shambles, but at least your friendships are solid as hell. You’d give the world for these three.

Mika returns a moment later, travel-sized nail supplies in her arms and a totally unrelated topic on the mind. The sharp scent of the lacquer startles you out of your thoughts as you uncap the bottle and Mika splays her hands out, and Alban and Aia air their opinions on something entertainingly dumb. 

Nina was right: this color is stunning on Mika. You paint Aia’s nails too, and halfway through her second hand, you hear the front door open, the end of an intelligible conversation, and telltale footsteps, each diverting across the house. The girls’ eyes flicker to you. You know they’re trying to read your expression, but you concentrate on how the brushstrokes pool together into one smooth coat. Your thoughts are a storm and you can’t even pick out the emotion commanding it. 

So you keep joking along instead and focus on the nail polish, refusing to give the storm an opportunity to strike. Alban quips off of you, and the moment passes as Mika and Aia return to the conversation. 

That is, until half an hour later when you hear a knock on the door. Mika cocks her head, a silent question, and when you nod she stands. Her nails dried when you finished Aia’s, and dot the doorknob as she cracks it open. A tiny margin of light from the hallway shines into your room, and you realize she positioned herself square in front of the threshold, shielding you from the person on the other side. 

She talks evenly. “Hey, welcome back.”

“Thanks. Is Reader here?”

Your mind thunders as you register the voice. You can only see the leg of his jeans behind Mika, but you recognize Ike’s voice on the other side. 

Aia shuffles by as a second shield. “Need them for something?”

“Kind of,” Ike says. “Do you mind if I talk to them?”

“I don’t know, what’s it about—“

“Aia, you can lay off him.” You call from your corner of the room. “You too, Mika.”

“Whatever you say. Just let me just grab my stuff…”

Mika grabs the nail supplies and deafens on Discord, but doesn’t even think to pick up the blankets along the ground. Instead, she glides to you and whispers under her breath. “We’re rooting for you. Send us a text if you need anything, okay?”

You nod. Aia slips past the threshold, but not without shooting you a thumbs up and mouthing ‘good luck.’ Not even a second later, your phone buzzes, and you catch Alban’s contact sending you an encouraging message in all-caps. 

“See you later!” Aia chirps. “Play nice, you two.”

The scent of the lacquer follows them as they leave, and the sound of their footsteps fade in time. 

Still in the doorway, Ike raises a hand to fidget with the chain along his glasses. “Do you mind if I…?”

“Oh! Come in. Sit anywhere, I don’t mind.”

You stay planted on the floor like how you were with your friends, and Ike sits next to you. You face the wall in front while he gets comfortable.

No words are exchanged as Ike maneuvers around the blankets, and eventually settles down with his back on the floor and head resting on a pillow, staring up at the ceiling. The light is off, but the blinds filter in thin beams of sunlight that cross over the room and the edge of his collar like a grid. 

“Lay with me?” He asks. Then it strikes you like ringing metal; you sit next to each other in the same positions as that night on the roof. 

Suddenly Ike raises his hands like static. “Not that you have to! I just figured it would be good to get comfortable and all, you know?” Ike hastily explains, then clears his throat. “I wanted to talk. About last night, I mean.”

Your chest flutters at the mention of it, but you remember all your friends’ encouragement. Here he is, the novelist of your (heartbroken) dreams, already bringing up the topic you dread to mention. You need to take this chance to face it head-on, now or never. 

You glide down like the ceiling is full of stars. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

“A lot, honestly. I don’t know how to go about it, but first of all, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

You cross your arms. “You said that enough last night.”

“Not like that! I mean I’m sorry I acted the way I did. I think I made every wrong choice once you said that you… that.” He shovels a hand through his hair. “I’m making it weird again. I should apologize for that, too, it’s just kind of embarrassing saying out loud that you, um, you loved me. Not that you should be embarrassed. I mean, I get it if you are, but that took a lot of guts. You should be proud of that. I admire you for that.”

“Slow down. What are you even saying?”

“What I wish I said last night. More than anything else, I’m sorry I got caught off-guard. I must’ve been so standoffish, because my idiot brain just didn’t believe what I was hearing until it was too late and the damage was already done.” Hair the color of ash and ocean falls over his face. “Honestly, I can’t believe it now.”

“I get it. Bad idea from me. Can we move on from that yet?”

“I don’t think it was a bad idea at all. I just had no idea that you liked me.”

“Give me some time and I’ll get over it, eventually. I’m not going to let it get in the way of working with you, if that’s what you’re trying to get at.”

“No, that’s not it either! I—“

Ike’s eyes squeeze shut. His voice is so quiet, you can’t discern what he’s saying. “…Actually, I’m…”

“Repeat that?”

“I’m happy. Really happy,” Ike says. His pitch rises like a balloon floating up into space, struggling to stay composed. “I’m not good at saying it, but I meant it when I said… when I said it during the stream.”

You wave a hand in the air. “It was weird timing, and I know you mean it like a friend,” you reply. “I didn’t mean to pressure you into saying it, and just being friends is fine. Even though I’m a loser that messed up just about everything.”

The hand catches in midair. Doll-like fingers weave through your grasp, and turn your touch warm as Ike turns to look at you. “Not with me. Don’t say that about yourself, okay?” 

You stare at how easily he held your hand, and how his fingers cradle your heart between the palms. The corners of Ike’s eyes are narrowed, two beads of peridot stone that can see through every little line of text between your pages, but there’s gentleness under his glasses. Something uncertain and fluffy. Softened like a lamb even though he leaves you defenseless. 

You don’t know what to say. Ike is beautiful and kind and handsome and thoughtful when he’s earnest like this. He’s got you stupid in the head and wrapped around his pinky finger, and doesn’t have a single clue.

Peridot sparkles. “You’re so much more than that. You don’t mess things up, Reader. I’m in love with you.”

Your mouth goes dry and your tongue is still tied. Forget speechlessness; the man took your own damn thoughts away. Your hand remains frozen in air with Ike’s. If it weren’t for the light drag of one of his fingernails along your skin, then you would have figured he took your senses as well.

But the drag ends, and the fingers unlace themselves, and chilled air fills in the gaps Ike once held close. The tips of his fingers rest at the curve of your palm for just one second more before they drift away.

The glint in his eyes dulls. His hand falls to his chest, over his heart, just as slow as he parted. The uncertainty took over, and now it’s like staring at a cloud that doesn’t know if it should rain. Ike’s gaze lowers to his heart. There’s a stretch of silence and motionlessness as he stares at where your touch once was, and you’re paralyzed where you lay.

Ike's hand curls in on itself, too loose to make a fist, and his lashes sink over his eyes. His mouth is set into a flat line, but the cheeks are dusted in pinks and reds and peppered freckles in-between, demure and shy all the while.

He turns his face away soon after that. Another break of silence, and he shuffles again, with your vision on his back as if it were a hiding place.

It startles you out of your stupor. The gridded sunlight lets you analyze what you missed. After months of thinking your feelings would never be reciprocated, Ike thought of you just the same. He’s always been in your corner, and you would go to the ends of the earth for him, and everything is in its perfect position. But his back is still turned, and the memory of last night—your confession, and his inaction—it rushes to your head.

So you reach out instead.

Maybe it’s a little selfish. You’re tired of bumbling around and concealing your true feelings, and now that everything's out in the open, you aren’t about to let go without resolution.

But Ike is your best friend, and the man you fell in love with. There was no way you’d ever let go in the first place.

You wrap your arms around his back and hug Ike.

“I think I get why you were so taken aback last night,” you whisper. Even though you’re alone with Ike, you still say it like a secret. “I can barely believe it myself.”

Your warmth is inviting, and every second that passes is another defense downed. Your head perches right above his neck and along his shoulder. It’s not your first hug with Ike at all, but there’s only been so many since you first met him in person that it still feels special, and with your bodies flush to the floor, it’s intimate. His eyes are averted and one cheek lays down on the blankets, but the tips of his ears glow scarlet under his jewelry. 

“I’m glad you were patient with me. I really didn’t think I had a chance with you. You know, the long distance and the company, and you know, the standard pining fare. I’m really lucky.” A smile slips through your words. “I’ll stay with you, okay? So take all the time you need.”

Ike chuckles. Even his laughter is blushy-bashful. “I’m just so happy you feel the same, too. I don’t even know what to do with myself.”

His body curls as he lays, and your legs brush along his as you cuddle. Holding him makes it feel like he was made to fit in your arms. You sigh. “I love when you can’t contain it. It’s so cute.” 

Ike squeaks at that, and unwittingly proves your point. “It feels so good to say that out loud. I mean, you’re okay with it, right?” A nod. “And you’re okay with… I don’t know. Are we still friends?”

“Of course we are, no matter what. You said you loved me first, so let me say this one?” 

You have a feeling you know what’s coming next. You hug him even tighter.

“Reader, let’s go out. I don’t want this feeling to end,” he confesses, and your world turns into rose and blush. “Can we?”

Though you expected it, he still takes your breath away—until he taps you on the hand. “Come on, say something before my heart explodes!”

“Mine already did! I can’t even think straight, and—I’d love that. I really want this.”

Another squeal breaks out as Ike buries his head into a blanket, and your heart soars as he melts. He resembles a swaddled-up kitten, and the rays of sunlight line his silhouette. The fluffy blanket reminds you of an angel’s downy wings along his kitten features. You can’t even see his face between the blanket and his hair, but his squeal continues, muted through the blanket as he swoons. 

Somehow that only makes you feel even more flustered. “No, don’t hide! I want to see you!”

Maybe it would’ve been better for your heart if he stayed put, because when Ike rises—with disheveled hair and glitter in his eyes the color of seaglass, and jewelry that frames his red face, and that galaxy of freckles you hold so dear and shine like stars between his blush—you feel your heart stop. Again.

“When did you start having this effect on me?” You ask, mesmerized, and before you know it you thumb over one of his rosy cheeks. “Your freckles are so beautiful.”

He sheepishly grins. “They don’t really show up online. They’re pale.”

“Never noticed them until I met you in person. I love them. I love you.”

The grin gets a little wider. One of his fingers grazes along the corner of your ear. Has his hand always been along your jawline?

Ike’s eyes are shining under the grid of sunlight. The lashes flit just a bit lower from your gaze. “Reader, can we…?”

You close your eyes.

And when Ike’s lips graze your own, you smile on instinct before you remember to kiss back. 

Ike brings you near, searching for the taste of you as he continues. His touch lodges past your jawline and into your hair, and when one of the fingers grazes along your ear you’re reminded just how much you love Ike. All the yearning you hid for so long bleeds through as you sink down to his level with his head in your hand, gentle yet impassioned.

Then your face bumps against Ike’s glasses. The kiss breaks as you back away.

There’s a brief pause in the aftermath. Ike wordlessly adjusts his glasses, now knocked off-center. Despite finally getting on the same page on your relationship with Ike, you’re still as clumsy about your feelings as ever.

But the corners of your lips curve up as he inspects the lens you squished, then a barely-stifled giggle, and next thing you know, Ike’s laughing along with you, still underneath your body and with one hand in your hair while the other holds his glasses in place. He sounds as charming as he looks, and the fact that he joined you even when you chuckled out of the blue means that his mind is just as charming as well.

Not that it was breaking news. You know your best friend well, and now that you don’t need to deny your feelings any longer, you know you’ve got good taste if Ike’s under you with crinkled eyes and hearty laughter.

When you speak next, the giggles patter out between your words but the quiet delight hangs in your teeth. “Can we try that again?”

Then his lips are on yours again, and the laughter twists between the second kiss, and the third, and the fourth, all the way until you collapse on the blankets with arms around each other, staring up at the stars on the bland popcorn ceiling as adoration fills the space between you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

bonus.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Starting soon…

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The chat flickers alive as a four-pointed flower, a diamond, and a thorned heart give way to the stream and the novelist behind the stinger. 

Kaidororero: welcome back ike!

Min (Ikey’s Book): 💙 IKEY IS BACK 💙

A normal broom: HI IKE

lunasmortas: 💙💙💙

viperip: ike! :_heart: :_heart: :_heart:

Sun shines through a clear day in Ike’s room onscreen, but in reality, blackout curtains block out the day outside. A sweet smile graces both Ike’s face and his model as the Quilldren welcome him home. 

He greets them, and cracks open a can of soda as he quickly scans through the chat. Obviously, the off-collab is on everyone’s minds. 

juuuuuuuuuus: did you have fun?

Kaidororero: offcollab POOOG

lunasmortas: SO CUTE :_heart: :heart:

Johnclone: Hope you had a good time!

zZirasthingZz: PEN AND PAPER REAL

Hm. A mod will eventually bonk that message. But then again, it’s inevitable that the ship would come up in chat. 

Ike takes it in stride and ignores it like any other shipper, but his heart still skips a beat. Nonetheless, he doesn’t call any attention to it. “How about that off-collab, right? I met up with my friends! Where do I even begin?”

Ike recounts his trip from the beginning, and the Quilldren react to his stories with interest. He was one of the last to arrive, so Nina, Uki and Reader picked him up from the airport, and met up with Aia, Ren, and Mika at the Airbnb. Vox was the only one to arrive after him, hot off the heels of a flight delay, but the demon was a welcome party all his own despite his exhaustion. 

“We went to karaoke once Vox got situated,” Ike explains. “Nina put that song in first so we could all let loose, and so she would have a fun voice tweet for everyone. Might as well confirm everyone that showed up, right?

“But after that, we didn’t want to stress ourselves out to perform for voice tweets instead of just having fun, so that was the only song we recorded. I wish you could’ve heard Uki and Vox’s duet, though. And while we were singing, turns out Ren packed a ukulele with him! Sometimes he would learn how to play along by ear, like a jam session. Mika knows how to play ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’ too, so everyone joined in singing that while she played it. It was so much fun.”

Johnclone: Everyone sounded great!

sunblast99: uki’s voice >>>>>> everything else 💜💙

haabinae: :_tskr:

Festersk: WHAT I REALLY REALLY WANT 🗣🗣

A normal broom: what did you sing?

Ike leans back in his chair. He blows a lock of hair out of his sight as he tries to think. “I remember Vox sang something by George Strait, so then we all egged him on to sing ‘Country Roads.’ He only did it once I promised to queue up ‘Toxicity’ by System of a Down afterwards.”

lunasmortas: OMG 💙💙💙

gatamiizuus: ayo?

Y A M: YESSSSSSS :_tskr: :_tskr:

haabinae: I LOVE SOAD :_fanboy:

Thornmy: SO COOL 💙

“Thank you.” He says it out of obligation. If he thinks too hard about the compliments, he’ll get embarrassed. “What else was there? I think there was some Motionless in White, and Spiritbox. Oh, and My First Story. Can’t forget My First Story.”

K. K. Soda: ooooo

Alban Knox 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : what about mcr

asper ch.: METAL SCREAM?

deeboorgur: HI ALBAN

Y A M: MCR YEAAAAA  :_glowstick_1: :_glowstick_2:

“I’m getting there, Alban!” 

Ike takes a sip while the Quilldren greet Alban. He’s not too surprised Alban seems to know more than the other viewers. He’s close with almost everyone that went on the trip, and was super active on Discord during the off-collab. The novelist lowers his soda as the chat floods in orange hearts. He wonders how Alban learned so much as an observer. He should ask. 

But that’s a question for after stream. Ike continues. “Thank Nina for that. She queued up ‘I’m Not Okay’ by My Chemical Romance, and then shoved two mics in my hands and Reader’s.”

And the chat explodes. 

Kaidororero: OMGGGGGG 💙💕

Y A M: PEN AND PAPER SO CUTE :_tskr:

zZirasthingZz: PEN AND PAPER DUET

asper ch.: AYOOOO MCR

gatamiizuus: I LOVE READER

ystariya: PEN AND PAPER MY BELOVED

“It’s a really fun song! It’s almost all clean vocals, but there’s this scream in the middle. Up until then, we sang together, but then I screamed, and Reader picked up the slack and sang the parts of the verse I couldn’t. They’re amazing.”

gatamiizuus: READER SIMPS COME GET Y’ALL’S JUICE

Thornmy: THAT SOUNDS SO GOOD

lunasmortas: 💙💕💙💕

ystariya: READER KARAOKE STREAM WHEN

Kaidororero: AWWWWWWW

The model on the screen doesn’t have the same glint in Ike’s eye when he talks about you. That first day of the trip was all about getting comfortable after long travel hours, and the stories went on as the days went by. Sightseeing with Aia and shopping with Uki by day, and spending the night shooting the shit with Ren until it turns into the littlest hours of the morning.

“Vox wanted to try a bunch of different restaurants with me, but you know me, ya boi is not good with most foods. So Nina usually came along in case I couldn’t finish something. She and Vox would share my leftovers.”

Something fond crosses over Ike’s face. His eyes cloud over in fog descending over a clear-sky day. “We would always talk over food about anything. I appreciate it a lot. They really get me.” The fog stills. “And over breakfast one morning, they gave me some excellent advice over something I’ve been meaning to do.”

ver*batim: ❤️💙❤️

K. K. Soda: MILORDDDDD

nroneo: :_heart:

A normal broom: upcoming project? 👀 

Johnclone: I love Nina Kosaka!

“Not a project, no. It was something I was really worried about, even when I was supposed to be taking a break with my friends,” he says. “But those two seriously helped me clear my head about it. Mika, too. Vox and Nina had a lot of nuanced advice, but Mika told it to me straight, and helped handle what I couldn’t. I’m really thankful to have them.”

His set jaw loosens. “Maybe I’ll talk about it one day.”

The model cocks to the side. Motion blurs the foggy sobriety away. With a lightness to his voice and a knowing gaze, Ike looks straight into the camera and smiles, sentimentality forgotten. The air clears. “But for now, it’s a secret~!

“Ah, now where was I? Spending time with my friends, right? Reader and I hung out often. Sometimes with others, but it ended up being the two of us more than not.”

Birds chirp outside Ike’s window in time with the hum of his PC. The backlit keyboard in front of the monitors glows the same color as the computer, a healthy blue light that tints the tips of his fingers. He usually sets it to a rainbow spectrum in his own time, but static blue is reserved for going live. It gets him in the right mindset for streaming, and makes his little apartment feel fantastical like the noble background that accompanies his model, even if it only reaches his fingertips. 

He’s sure the Ike on the screen has fingertips tinged with blue just like him, an extension of the man outside the screen but without the grittier details. Smooth, pristine hands under gloves where his are callused from guitar playing. Nothing under the model’s eyes but lashes and a line of red that brings out the pink in his eyes, very much unlike the heavy bags and sunken face from an awful delay on his flight back home. No freckles, either, but even cameras rarely pick them up on video call. Nina cooed over them the first time they met, as motherly as ever, but behind closed doors Reader was utterly fascinated with them. They mentioned something about watching blush travel around his face with the smattering of freckles in-between once or twice… maybe more? Doesn’t matter when he’s never heard that before and it repeats in his head when he catches himself daydreaming. It’s one of the best things he’s ever heard.

Vtuber Model Ike’s face doesn’t heat up like how Real Ike’s certainly is now. He clears his throat. “The weather was really nice during the entire trip, so we would always get into good conversations while walking back to where we were staying. And sometimes we didn’t want to end the conversation, so we’d just keep walking past our Airbnb until our feet hurt or it got dark, whichever came first. 

“Oh, here’s something funny. Uki really loves cafes, right? Usually he woke up early with Ren to go check out some cafes in the morning, way before the rest of us would even think of waking up. By the time everyone else woke up, they already finished their breakfast, and Uki would tell Reader about the ones to visit or skip. Whenever Uki recommended one, Reader always wanted to go themselves, so I went along to keep them company.” 

Even as his skin returns to its original shade, the sweetness sticks to his throat like the soda he’s barely touched at all. He’s wistful. He didn’t expect to miss Reader this much; after all, his relationship with them has bloomed so much ever since you first started working together, but two weeks together (including mutual close friends) changes things. It’s only been two days since he returned home, but he feels out of rhythm with them. 

He’s gotten too accustomed to them. Over the last few months, he thought he did a good job putting aside his feelings for Reader, even when Nina would tease him after every Pen and Paper collab and Vox and Mika would be right behind her, hyping him up to make a move. The fear of rejection was what motivated him to keep his close friendship with Reader without ever confessing to them.

“Reader…”

The world around him is nothing. Paused to buffer as he thinks. He can’t remember the last time he felt so happy. Just being in the same room as them makes him feel stupid, and surely he’s been acting like it. Everything he says sounds clumsy when he’s with them. After all, on that day when he owned up to the feelings he repressed for so long that he couldn’t properly react to Reader’s confession, he couldn’t say much more than how happy he was. Words fail to describe what Reader means to him, yet he’s a novelist, for crying out loud! How ironic!

“...Reader is so patient with me,” Ike says. “And they’re so considerate and dedicated. I wish I told them that earlier. It’s hard to say things out loud like this, but you only meet people like Reader once in a lifetime if you’re lucky, and even then, there’s no one quite like Reader.”

ystariya: i love reader

Kaidororero: pen and paper awwww

Y A M: PEN AND PAPER

acklmystafoot: ike is so sweet!!!

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : 💙

“Aaah!”

Ike recoils like his keyboard is flaming lava. The model on the screen leans back and freezes in place while he nearly throws himself out of his chair. “R-Reader! What are you doing here?!”

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : FKJLJJSLKFJDKS LMAOOOOOOOO

Johnclone: Hello Reader!

Y A M: OMG

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : just wanted to say hi

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : hi!

Festersk: LMAO

Ike sputters out nothing but empty air and nervous laughter. “Haha. Um. Hi! Welcome!”

Stupid! He wants to kick himself. He’s made improvement on verbalizing affection, and he’s comfortable with Reader, especially now that there aren’t any secrets left, but he’s still so unfamiliar with affection being returned that his heart is still doing kickflips in his chest. 

haabinae: :_blush: :_blush: :_blush:

juuuuuuuuuus: most normal pen and paper moment

Thornmy: AWWW

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : check discord

A normal broom: Oh?

“Ah, okay! Give me a second.” Ike keeps his Discord on mute, and usually disables desktop notifications when he’s live, so he’s not surprised to open the window to unread messages and some non-urgent pings. Sure enough, Reader sent him something.

Reader: because you were talking about cafes

Reader: image.png (3)    | 💙 1 |

Me: Oh I recognize these from our first date!

It’s been over a week now, but just saying he went on a date with Reader has him squeezing his legs together so his feet wouldn’t start kicking in the air. 

Reader: ahh you remembered! 

Me: I should’ve figured you took more pictures than the ones you showed me

Reader: dw i have more i wanted to show you

Reader: image.png (8)    | 💙 1 |

Me: Seriously how are you so good at photography I don’t get it-

Me: You’re really pretty in this one!

Me: UGHHHH WHY DO I LOOK SO WEIRD    | ❌ 1 | 💕 1 |

Me: I DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE YOU TAKE THIS ONE

Reader: WTH YOU’RE NOT WEIRD

Reader: YOU’RE LITERALLY SO HANDSOME WHY DO YOU  T H I N K  I TOOK THAT PIC

Well, great, now he’s actually kicking in his seat. Ike is inclined to disagree, but when Reader says it, it’s a super-effective attack on his poor little novelist heart. 

Me: Akaslwdnja

Me: Thank you 😭

Reader: anyways i gotta go i stream in 20 min and i’ve barely eaten my food

Me: Go eat! Do you have enough water?

Reader: just refilled my bottle

Me: Good then don’t let me keep you! Have a good stream!

And before he can overthink it, in the moment—

Me: I love you!

His sights are set on his second monitor.

Reader is typing…

Reader doesn’t have to respond. Sometimes just saying it is enough. 

Reader: fdsjdfkl.

Ike’s been trying to relearn that lesson ever since he realized everything he repressed was reciprocated.

Reader: i love you too, ike

Words heard across the world, one of the people he holds most dear.

His heart beats loud in his ears, but he can feel it slow, somehow. Reader is exhilarating, but there’s security in them, too. The nerves kick in until he remembers they’re just as exposed as the other, and the vulnerability generate a sense of comfort. Reader makes him feel understood like no one else in the world does, and he trusts them more than anything.

He does. He does, he does, he does, even if he only has the strength to say it one at a time. Ike is in love.

Reader: i’ll let you know when i’m done streaming, we can watch a movie together after

Me: It’s a date!    | 💕 1 |

It takes him a moment to tear his gaze away from your messages. 

His streaming monitor reflects his movements. The chat moves along. Blue light spreads through his fingertips, just like how he imagines Vtuber Model Ike’s hands resting on his own keyboard, an extension of the man outside the screen, proof of the fantastical.

“They sent me something.” Ike’s laughter is gentle. “I really do love them.”

The chat zooms past, as expected. Surely that would get clipped alongside the off-collab Q&A, but he can’t seem to care. He doubts the fandom would really understand how deep the connection goes, and if they do? Some things are just meant to be private.

Besides, on the day Ike and Reader get comfortable enough in their relationship to go public, he knows the Quilldren have his back, just like Reader and their Bookworms. 

“Reader, if you’re still there, we need to meet up again,” Ike says. “I don’t know when, but one day.”

A flurry of messages, but only one truly matters.

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : i wouldn’t miss it for the world

The model onscreen grins. It pales in comparison to Ike himself.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊commentary ↣

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

#ike eveland x reader #ike eveland #ike eveland fluff #ike eveland angst #luxiem #luxiem x reader #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji #4402 writes #🖋 anon #fanfic is unrealistic and i know this because clippers would NEVER use semicolons in their captions #eating string cheese wrong is symbolic. it represents eavesdropping and shitty lies that go unnoticed #i hope i never see a typo in this thing this fic is literally impossible to edit on mobile #update: there were typos. and i had to wait 3 minutes for the editor to load on my laptop before i could fix them. rip #pliskinverse

[crosshairlovebot]

a tender homecoming / crosshair x gn!reader

pairing: crosshair x gn!reader (no y/n). reader has a nickname.

description: in which a tired crosshair returns home to you.

word count: 3,334

warnings: non-explicit nudity (i guess), mild sexual references. otherwise, this is just soft domestic fluff with crosshair.

seeing crosshair on mount tantiss broke my heart, and i couldn’t get the idea of crosshair loving having his hair washed out of my head either. so i wrote this <3 there are also not enough soft crosshair fics out there, so i’m on a mission to remedy that. 

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated <3

The sun had just set on Coruscant, and a holo was playing in the background as you did the dishes, humming quietly. It had been a long day, your boss had been breathing down your neck all day, and it was nice to finally be home in your little apartment, relaxing. You’d gotten home a couple of hours ago, had a shower, made yourself dinner, poured a drink, and caught up on some of your favourite holodramas.

Spending time alone was something you’d grown used to. You enjoyed it, but it was hard to ignore the moments when you missed him.

He was gone a lot. More than he was here. For the nature of his job meant that he was off with his brothers, fighting for the Republic. It was hard not to worry about him; not to worry if he was okay, whether he was hurt. He would send short messages when he could, but if he was on a sensitive mission, you might not hear from him for days, even a week. Those were the days your heart truly ached, the loneliness harder to bear.

Those days, you would lie in bed, unable to sleep, the soft hum of speeders unable to soothe you into a slumber. Staring up at the ceiling, wondering where he was. You would toss and turn, unable to get comfortable and longing for the one thing that would fix it.

Him.

You'd get up and grab one of his blacks he’d left here from the drawer and bring it to bed. Balling it up and holding it in your arms, imagining you were holding him instead. Your nose against the soft fabric and breathing in the smoky scent that lingered there. Only then were you able to drift off and dream of him.

It was a constant feeling; the aching, the longing, the wanting. A dull throbbing in your chest that remained there, unmoving. You carried it with you always, a reminder that he wasn’t here right now.

A constant reminder that you missed him.

Laughter rang out from the holo, filling the apartment as you washed your cup. There was a knock at the door, and you frowned. You weren’t expecting anybody.

You turned the water off and placed the cup on the rack, drying your hands, skeptically.

You didn’t live in the best neighbourhood. It was relatively safe, but there was the odd mugging every so often. So you were always weary of unexpected visitors or suspicious-looking people – especially since you lived alone.

Walking quietly to the door, you pressed the blue button on the panel next to it, and the screen lit up, revealing your unexpected guest. Your heart skipped several beats as you pressed the green button, opening the door.

“Crosshair?” you were unable to hide the shock and happiness from your voice, a grin exploding on your face at the sight of him.

“Hey, ca’tra,” he greeted with a small smile before you launched yourself into his arms. He grunted as he caught you, wrapping his arms tightly around your body. To hear that endearment from his lips, night sky, after so many weeks, you felt your heart expand and ache. You buried your face into his neck, breathing him in, and the vibrations of his words thrummed against your skin. “Good to see you.”

You gently drew back, your arms still holding him. “You didn’t tell me you were coming home today.”

A ghost of a smile graced his face at the mention of this tiny apartment being his home. “I didn’t know. We were rerouted at the last minute.”

You smiled at him. It was like the galaxy knew; like the galaxy how much you were missing him and delivered him right to you. “Come inside,” you pulled away and moved to let him in. “I can’t tell you how much I missed you.”

Crosshair turned to you and smirked as you closed the door. “You don’t wanna try?”

You rolled your eyes, his familiar snark so comforting it was almost like he had never been gone. “I can show you how much later.”

Crosshair raised an eyebrow and drew your hips to his, he hummed. “Well then, I’m looking forward to that,” he squeezed your hips in his hands, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Mmhmm, I’m sure you are,” you bit back a smile as he inched his face closer to yours, his lips brushing gently against your jaw before they slowly moved to capture yours in a long-awaited kiss.

The kiss was like taking a breath after being without air, where the pain in your lungs disappears and your chest expands and fills with relief. The kiss was like warmth from a fire thawing cold skin, the heat moving through veins and bringing life back into them. The kiss was like waking up in the morning and letting your body stretch out across the sheets, waking up your limbs after sleeping for hours and they have that tingly feeling that tells you they’re awake now too.

The kiss was like returning home.

Melting into each other; there was nothing close enough, as he pulled your chest against his, his signature black and red plastoid armour pressing against you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and clutched at the grey hair at the nape of it, scratching there with your nails.

Crosshair moaned into your mouth, and you smiled before gently pulling away. You looked into those amber eyes that you’d memorised, their familiar patterns lit up with a soft kind of joy that told you without words how much he was happy to see you. Just in case you missed it in the kiss he’d just given you.

You rubbed an invisible spot on his jaw, the beginnings of stubble scratching against the pad of your thumb. “Have you eaten?”

Crosshair shook his head and moved his lips to your ear, nipping at the skin there gently. “Not yet.”

You brought your shoulder to your ear to move his attention away, his touch tickling you. “I’ll put some leftovers in the oven.” You extricated yourself from his arms. “If I had known you were coming, I would’ve cooked something nice.”

Crosshair bent and leant his forearms on the island, watching you move around the kitchen, assembling the leftovers on a tray. “I don’t need something nice, ca’tra. Just you.”

You looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “You really missed me, huh?”

Crosshair only smiled in response, the one corner of his lips quirking up as he gazed at you.

You placed the tray in the oven and walked over to him. His whole body sagged against the counter, and you could see the tiredness he’d tried to hide in his eyes. When you reached him, he stands upright and places his hands on your hips almost immediately. “You’re tired, aren’t you?” you questioned.

He shook his head. “I’m fine,” he lied. You were good at reading him now.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” you looked up at him, tilting your head. Crosshair didn’t say anything, he only bent down and rested his forehead on your shoulder and drew you closer into his arms. You chuckled. “Why don’t I draw you a bath? The warm water will be nice,” you moved your hands to his hair again. “I’ll wash your hair for you.”

Crosshair groaned into your shoulder. “Kriff, that would be amazing,” he lifted his head up and meets your gaze. “Will you really?”

You smiled. “I will,” you gently push him away as the oven timer goes off, letting you both know the food is reheated. “Have your dinner and I’ll get the bath ready.”

Crosshair nodded and quickly dips down to give you one more chaste kiss before he moved over to the oven. You watched him as he grabbed his food, and swore under his breath as he pulled it out without oven mitts. You shook your head and made your way down the corridor to the bathroom attached to your bedroom.

The bath isn’t massive and is technically just a large shower bath that would barely fit Crosshair’s long legs, but it would do.

You pushed the curtain away and wipe the bath down with a wet cloth before turning on the water. Placing your fingertips in the stream, you adjust the temperature so it’s nice and warm before putting in the plug and letting it fill.

You rifle under your sink for some bath salts you splurged on and place a handful in the water, not too many, but enough to soothe his no doubt aching muscles. You then, in lieu of an actual bubble mixture, grabbed a bar of soap and held it under the stream of water so there would be some bubbles.

Just as the bath had filled and you turned off the water, Crosshair made his way in, now no longer attempting to hide his tiredness. A surprised look etched on his angular features once he saw what you had done.

“Did you eat?” you asked.

Crosshair nodded and looked at the bath longingly. You nodded at his armour. “Take that off.”

He smirked and started removing this armour. “Sir, yes, sir."

You rolled your eyes and retested the temperature of the water with your hand. Perfect.

Once Crosshair had removed his armour, he approached the bath. He removed the upper half of his blacks and placed the shirt in a pile with his armour. “Smells nice,” he remarked, his body brushing against yours in the small space.

You nodded, gaze lingering on his bare chest. It had been so long since you saw him shirtless. You studied the scars that were drawn on the skin, the small amount of grey hair nestled into his sternum; you wanted to run your hands over it, rake them over the skin. You swallowed. It wasn’t the time for that yet. “Take off your pants, the water’s getting cold.”

Crosshair arched a brow. “Somebody’s bossy tonight,” he hooked his thumbs into the waistband and then paused.

“What?”

“I don’t have the energy to remove them myself. You have to do it for me,” his lips curled into a smirk.

“Oh my god, Cross,” you laughed and shook your head and reached out to pull them down, his bare fingertips running over your collarbones.

You loved this side of Crosshair; the one that joked in this way. You so rarely saw it. You always felt special knowing he felt comfortable enough to show this side of him to you, and that it was yours and yours alone.

“Hmm, looks like you definitely missed me,” you remarked as he stood bare before you. Crosshair barked out a laugh that made his eyes crinkle at the sides, making your stomach flip over.

Crosshair stepped inside the bath, one foot at a time. He groaned as he sat down in the water, the warmth enveloping his skin. He sat back against the tub and closed his eyes. His legs were too long for the bath, but it didn’t seem to faze him – he just sat his heels on the lip of the bath.

Leaning on the sink, you watched his body completely relax, his face softening. The perpetual crease between his brow disappeared and you smiled. “Nice?”

Crosshair hummed and reached a hand out to you, the water dripping over the tiles. You pushed off the sink with your hip and took his hand, moving to the side of the tub, and sitting on the tiles next to it.

With the other hand, you grabbed a cloth and dipped it in the water before running it down his arm, down to the hand you were still holding. His head had lulled to the side, leaning against the wall as he watched you. You gently scrubbed his skin, wiping away all the remnants of his perils and missions. You felt him relax in your grip, and when you looked up, his eyes were closed. You placed his arm back in the bath and then moved onto your knees to grab his other arm, gently repeating the process.

You did this silently, just letting him bask in the feeling of just being. You knew he so rarely had time to himself, almost always in the presence of his brothers. And although he was not alone now, it was quiet. The only sound was that of the water dripping from the tap, and of you placing the cloth in the water and drawing it back out.

You heard his breathing slow and deepen. He had needed this more than he had let on.

When you whispered that were done, he cracked open his eyes and pulled his hand out of yours, and lifted it to your chin, placing a finger there wordlessly. You let him study you, his steely eyes were soft as they roamed your face.

He was being extra touchy tonight. He always touched you, but these touches were different. These were savouring touches, and you wondered what he had seen on those missions with his squad, what had made him come back and be so openly tender? You dared not ask. This was not the moment. And you would not ruin his ease.

You grabbed his hand and kissed it. “Should I wash your hair now?”

Crosshair hummed again. He seemed to have lost all of his words in his relaxation. You chuckled and grabbed the shampoo bottle before taking off your socks. You were already wearing your pyjama shorts, so you stepped into the tub. Crosshair looked up at you, blinking as if taking a second to register what it was you were doing.

“I need to sit behind you, on the edge,” you explained. Crosshair frowned in confusion as he sat forward, and you stepped so you were sitting on the small lip of the bath where his head was, your back flat against the tiles with your feet inside the water on either side of his shoulders. You cupped your hands in the water and wet his hair. “Now lean back for me,” you said, and Crosshair did as he was told.

He looked back at you, and a smile graced his face. “You could just get in with me.”

You chuckled. “Next time,” you promised before you squirted some shampoo in your palms and lathered it up. “Ready?”

When Crosshair nodded and moved his head forward, you placed your fingers on his head and started slowly moving them in circular motions, massaging his scalp as well as washing his hair. You smiled when he moaned softly, his eyes closing and his arms wrapping around your calves.

“Kriff, ca’tra, that feels so good,” he strained out.

You smiled, insides going warm. “Good, I’m glad. You deserve it.”

Crosshair shook his head, silently disagreeing with you. He’s too relaxed to argue with you. You go from circular motions to long-drawn ones, moving from the front of his hairline, down to the nape of his neck. You circle your thumbs there before you slowly circle them up. Crosshair hums as he enjoys your touches, he opens his eyes and looks up at you, a look on his face you couldn’t decipher.

“What?” you smiled.

“Nothing,” he said after a moment, then closed his eyes again and a soft smile etched on his face. Warmth bloomed in your chest for him.

After a few minutes, you pulled your hands away. Crosshair’s eyes opened and he looked back at you, so you leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips. “Okay, move forward, so I can grab some water to rinse this out.”

Crosshair sat up, no longer leaning, and you cupped your hands to grab some water, and let it fall over the back of his head, the shampoo running down his back. You repeated the action several times until all the shampoo was out.

And because you knew it would be funny, you smirked and took one last scoop of water and released it over the front of Crosshair’s head, so it ran down over his face.

He sputtered and gasped before he turned around, gripping the edge of the bath with a glare on his face. You laughed, but when he starts to smirk too, you knew you were in trouble. “Cross, no—!”

But it was too late. He grabbed your ankle and pulled you into the bath, pyjama shorts and all. You squealed as water sloshes over the sides and onto the bathroom floor. He then cupped his hands and splashed a handful of water onto your head. “Crosshair!” you gasped as you wiped your face.

Crosshair laughed, such a lovely sound it made your heart ache. He pulled you closer, moving the hair from your face. “That’s what you get,” a grin etched into his voice.

“My pyjamas are all wet now,” you pouted, pulling the wet material between your thumb and forefinger.

“Such a shame, guess you’ll have to take them off.”

You scoffed teasingly. “Oh, so that’s why you did it.”

He just shook his head. “Like I was going to have a bath without you in it with me.”

Crosshair helped you out of your pyjamas, plopping the wet garments on the floor.  You both manoeuvred so he’s resumed his previous position, but this time you were sat between his legs, your back against his chest. Crosshair grabbed the cloth you'd used on him, and he swiped it up and down your arms and your chest. You sunk into him, the comfort of his skin against yours was everything.

It was your turn to close your eyes as he drew patterns with soapy water over your arms. And then when he’d finished his painting, you traced circles on his palms as you talked about anything and everything.

You caught up on everything; telling each other things that you both already spoke about via messages but pretending it was the first time you’d heard it. He tells you about his brothers and their antics. You tell him about work and your boss who you think has a vendetta against you.

“Do you want me to take care of him? Because I can,” Crosshair said in such a serious voice as you played with his fingers that you collapsed into giggles – knowing that he was only half joking; knowing that if you asked, he would.

You both sat in content silence for a while. The water was growing cold, and you lifted your fingertips from the water, so they dripped in front of you. The sound echoed in the room. It was so peaceful, just lying here with him. To feel his solid chest behind you, to feel it move as he breathed in and out. To be caged in his limbs, his legs intertwined with yours, his fingertips dancing up and down your wet skin.

The water may be going cold, but your heart was not. Your heart was warm and full. You'd been hollow all these weeks without him, and now with him back, it was like he'd slotted back into you, completing everything and filling every crevice of you again. The emptiness was gone, consumed with Crosshair's return. You weren't sure how long he would be staying, but you were going to savour every moment of it. Every word, every touch. You'd memorise it all so you could file it away in your brain, and pull it out when he was gone again. These homecomings were precious, and you'd live in them for as long as you could.

“Crosshair?” You thought he may have fallen asleep when his hands had stilled, but he hummed in response, and you felt it vibrate against your back. You smiled. “I’m glad you’re home.”

Crosshair shifted underneath you, and his arms wrapped around your body, holding you close to him. He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “Me too, ca’tra. Me too.”

incase it wasn’t clear, ca’tra means night sky :’) it feels like a nickname crosshair would use, and i feel like he loves nighttime so the fact that he uses it...well, you know :’)

thank you for reading <3

taglist (please let me know if you would like to be removed/added): @32rotations @crosshairs-wife @seriowan @fives-girlfriend @starrylothcat​ @crosshairsnose​ @solitaryclone

#this was so comforting to write #i love soft crosshair so much #larissa writes #crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader fic #crosshair fluff #soft crosshair #tbb x reader #the bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #crosshair fic #the bad batch fluff #crosshair the bad batch

[ingravinoveritas]

MY GOODNESS THAT TV INSIDER SNIPPET WHERE YOU CAN SEE THEM MOVE PHYSICALLY CLOSER TO EACH OTHER IN ABOUT 20 SECONDS. UGHHH. DAVID WAS LITERALLY HALF OFF HIS SEAT TO BE CLOSER TO MICHAEL

Hi, Anons! Oh, gosh, I love both of these so much. Putting them together because I think there's a definite connection worth discussing.

So first, Anon #2 I know you must be referring to the new interviews with Michael and David that have come out the past few days (on Screen Rant Plus, Movieweb, etc.). Anon #1 is referring to another clip that just came out today, so I'll put the video up here for anyone who hasn't seen it and then discuss it further down this post:

Anon #2, how beautifully you have phrased your observation, and I could not possibly agree with you more. I've noticed a lot of people saying that Michael and David look sad or miserable, but I don't think that is the case at all. Well, a couple of things: 1) We have no idea when these interviews were recorded, though if I had to guess I'd say within the last month or two, and if that is the case, Michael was still directing/working nonstop on The Way, so that would explain him looking tired (along with running around after two little kids all the time). 2) I'm fairly certain that a large part of them not looking at each other is because they are trying not to give anything away about the second season, and Michael and David both know they won't be able to keep quiet if they make even the tiniest bit of eye contact.

3) I fully agree with your assertion that the lack of staring shows how close Michael and David have become, because to me, it also means that they no longer feel a need to be "on" around each other. They've both spoken in the past about how much they hate doing interviews/photo shoots, and that it became far more bearable when they had each other. That was the case four years ago, and now we've all gone through a global pandemic and some of the darkest times in our lives. That naturally strips away any sense of pretense--seeing someone at their worst, or when they're sick or afraid. I get the feeling that Michael and David have been through all of that and where so many other relationships/marriages fell apart, their relationship is even stronger now as a result. They love and accept each other exactly as they are, and it shows.

Finally, 4) What you said about Michael not staring at David makes my heart ache and seems so true. On the season 1 press tour, he was already in love, but didn't know when they would see each other again. I'm reminded of that one interview where they both suddenly seem to realize the press tour is coming to an end, and they don't know when they'll see each other next:

"Can we just...see each other? For no reason?"

He doesn't even have to ask that question now. Michael doesn't have to keep his eyes on David every moment because he has already memorized his whole face, the stubble on his skin, the softness of his lips. And he knows with perfect certainty that he will never be without David in his life again.

And this all fits in beautifully with the video you've mentioned, Anon #1, because they absolutely do move closer to each other in that video, and not only does it look like they did it completely unconsciously, but David seems to actually mirror Michael:

Michael is the first one to move closer, as we see above, and then right after he does, David moves closer. And again, they're not staring at each other the whole time. nor do they seem to be playing up their "personas"--Michael and David are just being themselves, and their natural inclination is to be close to each other. (Also, Michael's fucking wiggle right after he moves is killing me, because I think he only does that when he's very, very happy...)

Absolutely beautiful. I so appreciate you both sharing your thoughts with me, Anons. Thanks for writing in! xx

#anonymous #reply post #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #saying a lot by saying very little #so soft and lovely #the energy between them just crackles #so much warmth and affection #i don't know if i believe in fate but i believe in them #ineffable lovers #discourse #gif by me

[paracosmicparadox]

So I finished FFXV ages ago, but I've been thinking about it lately bc you know, I elaborated the chocobros' story far further than it was meant to go and got way more attached to them than I should have. So here're some things that the game did really well and some of the things it didn't. (you don't have to agree w anything here; I'm not trying to corrupt y'all w my opinions; I just feel like talking)

Let's start with the bad to get it out of the way:

CINDY. I swear to everything holy her character had the potential to be So Cool if she hadn't been so overtly over-sexualized. Like, I'm a woman-liker too and I get it, lady mechanics are hot af, but you know what else is attractive? Safety in the workplace. Cindy's outfit was not something any mechanic would be caught dead wearing. Yeah, it was designed to be sexy, but do you know how many burns she would've accumulated from the hot oil and metal she works with? There's a reason mechanics typically wear clothing zipped up when they're actually working on something. If anything, Cindy's character design just made me uncomfortable. Her character itself? Great. No qualms there. Her design? Please acquire more than two square feet of fabric I'm begging you. I just feel like Cindy deserved to be so much more than fan service.

Luna's brief time on-screen. Yet another potentially incredible and deep female protagonist who got short change from this game. People joke a lot that Luna wasn't at all an important character because the game never really treated her like one. She was MEANT to be important, clearly, but it felt like she existed just for her tearjerking death scene? Like there was SO MUCH overlooked potential to bring her into the storyline as more than Tragic Love Interest In White, and yet?? Idk it frustrated me.

The emotional aspect of the game felt rushed. There were a lot of emotional scenes covered throughout the plotline ranging from King Regis's death to the deal with Prompto at Zegnautus Keep. I feel like the game TRIED to cover them realistically and show the characters' grief, but it didn't quite get there. It was just sort of an "Oh, how sad. I'm so upset and angry. Hm, what's that? My friends believe in me without truly understanding and I can kill someone to ease my pain? Oh okay I'm better now." I get that realistic healing cycles are kinda hard to portray within a set timeframe, but having some lingering effects of the blatant trauma inflicted would've been nice. You don't recover from shit like that in a week's time.

Character personalities tended to be one-sided. Noctis was edgy, Prompto was happy-go-lucky, Gladio was tough-guy, and Ignis was... nevermind, Iggy was great--- HE had some on-screen depth. Personally, I've developed these characters myself far more than what the game gave us, but I wish we'd gotten more canon depth beyond their surface-level traits. I love them with my whole heart and they deserve genuine complexity.

Now the things I actually really enjoyed:

The graphics were on-point. The amount of detail put into character design and into monsters was insane. You could zoom in and see individual textures on skin and hair and feathers, bringing a level of realism to the game that I personally enjoyed.

All of the Latin and Norse mythological references!! As a Latin nerd, I found little gems everywhere in this game. Esp in the names--- (Noctis Lucis Caelum = Of-the-night Sky-of-light (the genitives in there make the literal translation kinda a mouthful ik) Gladiolus Amicitia = Sword-flower Friendship (the gladiolus is an actual flower that gets its name from the Latin word gladius, meaning sword, for its sword-like shape) Ignis Scientia = Fire Knowledge; Prompto Argentum = Ready Silver (the word prompto is actually in the dative (possibly ablative), making the literal translation nonsense, but if they'd made his name Promptus, it would've sounded awkward, so I can see why they picked the dative/ablative form of the adjective for stylistic reasons and I put the rough translation instead)) WOW THAT WAS A LOT OF PARENTHETICAL INFO WHOOPS

Ardyn's character. I'm not saying this bc I'm one of the fans who fawn over him---Ardyn is DEFINITELY NOT MY PREFERRED FLAVOR OF MAN, but character-wise, he made an excellent antagonist. He was witty, slick, and classy in an I'm-gonna-outstep-you-like-it's-hopscotch sorta way. He was a poetic villain done well, which made him an antagonist you could both sympathize for and absolutely detest given the situation. He was both the master manipulator and the pawn one space away from the edge of the board. He can sway a crowd, but you know deep in your gut just by the cunning greed in his eyes that You Cannot Trust The Man. He was definitely Not a good person (tragic backstory isn't an excuse), but he was a good villain.

I loved the bond between the chocobros?? This is probably bc I'm a sucker for the found family trope, but their interactions were so amazing to me?? Like, not even the cutscene stuff. Just their little sidebar conversations during fights or while you're walking around or driving the Regalia. They're Roadtrip Buddies™ and I think that's excellent.

THE FOOD. By god, the food in this game looked absolutely scrumptious and I would like to partake. The Daggerquill Soup? Give it to me I'll pay you. The Creamy Crustacean Omelet? Stop it right now I'll eat that so fast it'll be a criminal offense. Like I know I touched on the graphics earlier, but broski I was not kidding. I guess I know why the game took so long to make it to the market bc the detail that went into these recipes is absolutely mouthwatering.

#prompto #noctis #ff15 #noctis lucis caelum #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #ffxv #prompto argentum #ardyn lucis caelum #critique #fr this is just me talking to talk #you don't have to agree w anything here #there are more flaws than I listed for sure but I didn't feel like ripping the game to shreds

[just-horrible-things]

‘Verse: Box Boy Universe Story: A Girl Called Spider Timeline: Early in Spider's time with her owner

Fitting [ First | Prev | Next ]

The dress, she understands. It's basically a tube, there's not much scope to get it wrong. She has to do the zip up at the front and then inch the fabric round her body, but it works. 

Lacey panties, too, make sense, as do the heeled sandals.

The remaining garment is more puzzling.

There’s not much to it, just a lot of white elasticated straps, and quite a lot of embroidered flowers.

She looks inside the package for help, and is relieved to find a photo included of a model wearing the… body cage, according to the heading. She files the term away for future reference. 

Okay, it’s skin tight so the dress is going to have to come off again…

Even with the photo for guidance, it takes her a good few minutes to figure out where all of her limbs are supposed to go, and another few to adjust all of the straps to her satisfaction so that they sit evenly across her body.

She feels a moment of pity for her duller fellow trainees, imagining them faced with similar garments and facing punishment for not being able to put them on correctly.

A final careful rotation in front of the full length mirror, and she feels… satisfaction? She looks good. The elastic hugs her form in all the right places. The flowers are beautiful.

They’re azaleas, she realises, and she can’t help but smile.

Dress back on – sucking in her stomach to get into it. Body cage straps readjusted after the awkward process of rotating the dress tugs them all out of position. And another twirl in front of the mirror.

The dress is white too, a strapless thing that hugs her body tightly to the hips, then flares into a skirt that spins out as she moves. At rest, the hem sits a couple of inches above her knees. The embroidered azaleas peek out above the neckline and below the hem, teasing what’s beneath. 

The white fabric isn’t sheer, but it’s just thin enough to show the faintest hint of the body cage beneath it – a ghost of the embroidered colours, faint lines where the straps rest over her skin.

She returns to her Owner’s office, waits for him to lift his eyes from the screen, then twirls for his approval.

“Good,” he says. Spider smiles and bats her lashes. Praise is good. Praise means safety.

“The fit could be better.” He purses his lips. “I underestimated your size. I thought you were smaller.” Nerves flutter in Spider’s chest. “If Sir would prefer me thinner,” she recites, “WRU are happy to provide advice on adjusting my diet.” Her owner scoffs. “I think buying a larger size would be easier and quicker, don’t you?” “Whatever you prefer, Sir.”

He spins her again, more slowly, with a hand on her shoulder. He slides a finger under the top hem at the side of her bust, then at the front. The pet wets her lips and arches her back very slightly, but he shows no interest in proceeding any further.

“How are the shoes?” he asks. “They’re beautiful, Sir.” Another scoff. “How is the fit? I want an honest answer. I don’t need you getting sores from badly fitted shoes.” “A little narrow,” Spider confesses, “Sir. At the front.” “Hmm.”

He takes one knee, to her surprise, and runs a hand over one foot. A little tweak of the leather straps where they meet the metal, and the fit loosens.

“Oh,” says Spider, embarrassed. “Thank you, Sir.” “Next time I’ll take you to have them fitted. If you convince me you can be trusted outside.” A little moue of hurt at the implied accusation. “I’ll be so good, Sir,” she promises. “We’ll see.”

[Next]

#my writing #a girl called spider #654261: spider #avon #bbu

[piratemeansno]

I finished watching The Sandman a few days ago, and - as one does - have been scrolling through the tags and references on twitter and tumblr. A common opinion I've been seeing is that Dream's get up isn't "authentic" because he looks too human-esque / is quite different from the Comics. If I recall correctly, @neil-gaiman mentioned in an interview that they did try the pale skin & black eyes look, but it just didnt work out.

Regardless of whether it could have worked out or not, I'm really happy they stuck with the way Morpheus is shown on screen, and I have a bunch of reasons for that [outlined later]. But before that, I really want to talk about how ridiculous it is to expect a human become an absolute mirror of an illustration without it looking a bit off. Resemblance in terms of looks is important, yes, but only to fulfill the context/ reasons for why the character was drawn in a certain manner - and I think these are fulfilled really well. I want to outline three aspects about Dream that the show explores and how the makeup & eyes align with it. I have read the comics, but am writing this post on the basis of the show in isolation (as much in isolation as is possible)

1) Dream's Nature

We see right from the beginning of episode 1 that Dream is not someone who is particularly loquacious. Now of course it's understandable why one might not want to converse with their captor, but we see this throughout the season - with Death, with Hobbs, even with Matthew. Dream is someone, er, something, that only talks when it's required of him to do so - largely when he has to demand something or express authority. It's precisely because of his reticence that body language becomes the medium through which the audience is able to interpret his behavior and emotions.

In the comics, each reader has their own view of what Dream might look like, and there are the narrative / descriptive speech bubbles to help set the atmosphere & tone of a particular action or exchange of actions between the characters. In the show we only have the lighting, music, and of course, the way Sturridge carries himself. This is where the makeup & hair department shines.

In not giving Sturridge the big poofy hair that seems integral to Dream, it allows the viewers to concentrate on his face without any distractions. This is crucial, because anything the viewer wants to know about Dream has to be ascertained through Sturridge's eyes & facial expressions. In not giving him pitch black eyes, Dream is emotionally an open book - we see him flinch when Jessany dies, his eyes cloud up when he learns about the theft of his tools, and the twinkle of amusement everytime he meets Hob Gadling. So yes, for the audience to get a feel of what lurks behind Dream's seemingly emo boy exterior, it is essential for us to be able to focus on his face. And Sturridge does this portrayal exceptionally well [although that's for a different post]

2) Dream's Relationship to Humanity

I think unarguably, this season is about Dream understanding his position with humans - right from the torture & frustration at being kept in captivity by Roderick Burgess, upto him acknowledging his companionship with Hob Gadling. I'd put forth that this exploration was successful because of how human Dream looks.

Every moment in episode 1 when the camera focuses on him, we're able to sense the pain in his eyes, the intensity of losing Jessany when he flinches, and the anger of being treated so horridly while captive. He is stripped down to a fragile being, and the audience is compelled to view him as a helpless human. With the demonic like appearance as in the comics, it would be difficult for an audience to accept that he was truly captured and couls not escape. Interestingly, one of the few (only?) times across the season when we do see Dream's pitch black eyes is when he blows sand into the security's eyes after stepping out from his prison & when he goes to exact revenge on Alex. It's a reminder that Dream is not human, but more importantly it comes at a point where Dream no longer wills to have a relationship with humanity, his only aim is to destroy those that hurt him.

Dream understanding that his purpose is to serve humanity is a product of him interacting with humans, or being compelled to observe humans (by Death). His appearance (and costume) here becomes integral to how people perceive him as well. Johanna Constantine looks him over when he approaches her, and even goes as far as to ask him who he is. Hob Gadling is curious each century as to Dream's identity. Both these sets of interactions were able to play out because Dream looked human. Both these people played significant roles in reminding him what he should be doing - Johanna when she reminded Dream that humanity was right in front of him, and Hob by just being Hob. Dream having humanlike characteristics makes it convincing & believable to the audience that he wants to serve them because he genuinely cares and understands his purpose - and not just because it was an obligation given to him upon his creation. It also shows his growth from being someone who plotted revenge for a century to someone who wants to help people.

3) Dream is Not Human

One can argue that Dream is not supposed to look human because he isn't - he's a menace, he's terrifying, he's the lord of dreams and nightmares. But the humanlike appearance is exactly what allows the direction to focus on actions and qualities that make him not human.

Gwendoline Christie [for those of you unaware, she plays Lucifer] in an interview with Cinemablend mentioned that the complexities and conflicts of Lucifer portrayed very human qualities of the character. "You believed that was a person, you could see it." The same goes for Dream - the audience, although aware that Dream is a member of the Endless, still sees some human-ness to him, and views him as a person. And it's this human-ness precisely that shows us how much he is not. His moments of tenderness when he gifts Abel the gargoyle egg or helps Shakespeare achieve his dreams of being a playwright contrasted with moments of abject harshness when he unmakes Gault or takes Hector away from Lyta are marks of the power that rests with Dream. Power is such a human thing to want - but to have so much of it is decidedly otherworldly, and wr are constantly reminded of the same. Dream is terrifying because he looks human but has power beyond the scope of human capacity and imagination.

tl,dr; I like that they didnt make tom sturridge look like comics dream because we were able to witness all the wonderful eye acting and walk through Dream's journey with him, while still being reminded that he is a Lord of the Endless

#the sandman #neil gaiman #dream #lord morpheus #tom sturridge

[anime-kia]

Assassination/ Love Interest

HAPPY NEW YEAR! I hope you all started off your year better than I did 😅

I really love stories that keep Erik in his character.

No warnings.

Relationship: Assassin Erik x Reader

Assassination missions were quick and easy pay for Erik. Being the experienced tactician that he was made it light work, and a great way to make a fast million. All he needed was general information, and a face and before you could ask him the status of the mission, the job would be done.

Beau Easton. A man of high class, wealth and status who had his fair share of dirty secrets. Erik was referred to him through an old friend who also partook in undercover business. 

"The best assassin you can ever find. He's quick and clean." 

Beau sat in his office, elbows planted on the desk as his fingers ran over his freshly trimmed fade. The room was dark, only to be lit up by the computer screen, illuminating his chocolate skin.

All he had to do was hit enter on that keyboard and the task would be carried out faster than he could blink. 

"Think about all the money you'd be getting. You're gonna let one woman jeopardize that?"

This was a conversation he held with his best friend, upon discovering a landmine of wealth that his wife was seated on.

It ate at him for days as he watched her be the most loving and nurturing wife that she was. But at the same time, she was one of many. He could easily find another woman just like her if he wanted to.

Her father and her never shared a relationship due to his promiscuous ways. Her mother had left him before she could walk on her own two feet, never telling the poor child a thing about her wealthy father. 

Beau was going through the mail one evening and discovered a letter sent to her through an attorney. The old man had passed away, but she was included in the will. Before she even had a chance to look at the letter, Beau had torn it open and read all of the information and what was included in it. His eyes lit up as he saw the amount they would receive. If he were to combine his wealth with the old mans, his grandkids' grandkids would never have to work a day in their lives.

Beau called the attorney, stating who he was and was very cautious with the way he asked his questions. 

"If my wife were not able to collect these things, who would be next in line to receive it?" 

"Well it would be another parent or siblings, but if she has any of them, they were not included in the will so I suppose you or if you have any children would be the ones to inherit what he left."

This conversation came about due to the kind of person she was. Generous, loving and giving, everything he wasn't. 

When she finally got news of the will, she plainly stated that she wanted it donated to charity. She hasn't acknowledged her father then and she won't acknowledge him now. 

Beau slammed his fists onto the wooden desk. "Fuck! She always has to complicate things for me!" Inhaling and exhaling, his shaky finger clicked the send button. 

That was it. He traded his wife's life for more money and material.

Erik read the description that his client had sent. Erik normally enjoyed getting creative with his assassination missions, whether it was torture style or trickery. Depending on who it was, he would either make it painless and fast or agonizing and slow.

But this particular case had him a little stumped. He normally dealt with people who deserved to be killed (ironically enough), but this was just a normal woman. Or maybe he was being too naive in believing that she was just an ordinary woman, and not that her husband just didn't want blood on his own hands. 

The reward money was enough to let Erik disregard his concerns. It was near the highest he'd ever been paid for a mission. The client had left notes on the bottom, giving Erik tips on the easiest way to do it. 

The only issue was that the picture of the woman was not as clear as he'd like it to be. Fortunately though, the description was sufficient enough.

She is usually at home, I can leave a key. 

Erik scoffed, who the hell did he think he was dealing with? Erik was no amateur, he could break through any lock he wanted to. That was the easy part. 

The security cameras are on during the day, you might want to do it at night. She also likes to hangout on the balcony before going to sleep.

He read over the description one more time, sighing that it had to be a sister who was going to meet her maker in less than twenty-four hours. 

"Damn, it be ya own people." Erik shook his head and tossed his secondary phone to the side.

The following night had come and it was about ten o'clock. The moon illuminated the sky, stars dotted all over in aimless patterns. It was peaceful. 

Erik has perched himself on top of a neighbouring building that wasn't too far or too close. He had the perfect view of the balcony where the shared master bedroom resided.  

His sniper rifle was assembled, silencer attachment resting at the end of the barrel. He wiped off the scope and peered one eye through to make sure everything was good. 

Now all he had to do was wait. 

This mission would be a piece of cake.

He remained in silence for thirty minutes. He was getting restless though, as he'd hope that he would have spare time to make it to the club with his boys before the night was done. Erik had a moment where he'd almost said fuck it and just go through the front door and handle the business that way. But right before he could get up, the woman had stepped out onto the balcony, exhaling.

Erik lifted the rifle and stared through the scope. As he brought it closer to her head, he almost dropped the gun immediately. His eyes widened at the familiar face, one he thought he would never see again.

She's grown more beautiful since that last time he saw her. Her eyes still had the hopeful gleam to them as she looked into the night sky, her mouth titled upwards, slightly forming a grin. She looked so serene under the moon, like a goddess.

She was his first love, the only woman who he would make his Mrs. Stevens. He remembers as she use to doodle her first name with his last name on her notebooks during class when they finished their work on time and had more to spare.

(Y/N) Stevens. 

Erik was so overwhelmed he could faint. But he had no choice other than to do what he originally came to do. Especially since she was no longer his anymore, she was now carrying the title of Mrs. Easton. (Y/N) Easton. No longer Stevens. 

His breathing was unsteady, as he lifted the rifle back up. He centred the cross between her two eyes. 

Quick and easy, E. You got this. He coaxed himself. 

Seeing her fall in love with another man should've made it easier for him to pull the trigger, but his finger trembled. He couldn't believe that his first love was the one to test his will. 

This supposed simple assassination had proven much more difficult than he'd originally thought.

He continued to stare at her, so innocent and unaware of her situation. His finger slightly pressed on the trigger, but stopped the second her eyes had met his. 

He froze. 

Feeling like a child who just been caught red handed. His mind went into a frenzy of questions. 

Can she see me? 

Am I compromised? 

The fuck do I do?

Never in his life had he felt so helpless and lost. And all it took was one look from the same woman who he shared his mind, body and soul with. 

Her eyes were so gentle as they stared into his deep brown ones, but hers were aimless. She had not seen him, rather she was just enjoying the view of the night sky. He was way too far away and it was too dark. Even if he moved slightly, his cover would not have been blown. 

Erik bailed, he just couldn't pull the trigger. After her eyes had locked onto his, that was it. If he did pull the trigger, he would be haunted and tormented forever. 

Erik's new mission was to get her safe. Since he went off the grid after that failed mission, he knew Beau would be looking for a new assassin or he would do it himself. Erik would not have that. 

He knew that her life was worth more than a couple millions. She could bring happiness to the saddest man alive, and that's exactly what she did for him all those years ago. If Erik left her alone after that, he would never forgive himself. So he made it his mission to eliminate the real enemy and to keep his first love safe.

This was a quick fic idea that came to my mind last night. I like how it turned out and I hope you all did too! I'm finally starting school on Monday (sigh), but I hope I'll still be able to update. 

Also, there's no part 2 for this. You can probably imagine what happens next anyway. 

Thanks for reading!

(Start/Finish: January 4-5, 2020)

#killmonger fic #killmonger x reader #black reader

[mysteryman-17]

EDIT (12/2/2022): Be sure to check out the newest (and final) version!

* Moonstache EX pulls the strings!

* (Check) * YOU ARE OUT OF YOUR DEPTH, YOUNG ONE. * YOUR STATS ARE [[Weak Sauce]] COMPARED TO MINE. * TIME TO WAKE UP AND SMELL THE [[PAIN]]!

Time’s End is an AHIT/Undertale crossover AU of sorts, taking place in the aftermath of a timeline where you lose the final boss fight against Mustache Girl. You can find the write-up here! In addition to the AO3 link being updated with lots of new material, you can also find the write-ups for the Neutral Endings and TimeWarp Route requirements over on Google Docs! The art was made by @asterofthedeepforest. Be sure to support his Ko-fi!

Motifs:

The Badge Seller / Moonjumper’s Theme

Oh It's You + Your Contract Has Expired (modified)

Main Theme / Title Screen

Welcome To Mafia Town (modified)

Killing Two Birds (modified)

How Rude! (2:10 - 2:18)

Original

You can also listen to this track in high quality on my SoundCloud here! The rest of the description is underneath the Read More.

Moonjumper replaces Gaster. In the TimeWarp route, after Hat Kid's (well) TimeWarp attack creates a schism in the space-time continuum, Moonjumper is FINALLY able to properly break through back into reality... by overwriting Mustache Girl's soul with their own, becoming Moonstache EX in the process. Skin so blue, eyes shot red, they'll make Bow wish that she were dead.

Commissioned my boi Kristian (Wisteria Bird Studios,) I made changes, etc etc. I'll be perfectly honest tho; if I listed off the entire changelist for this version, this description would be too boring for its own good (cuz even between v5 and now, there have been a TON of adjustments!!) so I'll keep this short and mention the two most obvious ones. (If you do want me to go in depth with any other changes tho, feel free to leave your questions in the replies!) Ye I lowered the track's pitch by one semitone for shits and giggles. Wound up liking how it sounded more, so I ran with it. And also, with big thanks to Adamant's "How to recreate BIG SHOT" series being available to use as reference, I made some sweeping changes to the backing on this track to give it a better overall sound. That's defo just the tip of the iceberg tho. Am p happy with how this version turned out, and I hope you guys enjoy the new mix! (P.S. I do have an idea or two for new Time’s End tracks that aren’t just updates to stuff like this, and some tracks I commissioned for the AU are in progress.)

And for those wondering why the SC link in the first part of the description is the same as the one on the now outdated v5, yeah. I finally had enough of reuploading this from scratch all the time on SC and losing every single stat, so I decided to get a temp SC Pro subscription and replace the file on the original upload.

#a hat in time au #ahit au #ahit moonjumper #moonjumper #time's end moonstache #moonstache ex #non-canon #outdated #a hat in time music #ahit music #music #audio

[designtrip4]

Listed below are 7 Ways To better Minecraft Launcher

We've decided to build this little article for folks if its there first time starting a Minecraft server. If you are unsure what you want to select, it is highly advisable to run Spigot | 1.13.2. Spigot is the jar type and 1.13.2 is the sport version the place players in there clients can be a part of from. 2. Setup a server area, with the Domain field, all you do is kind your server name. A jar is an executable which Java makes use of to run your server, hence the identify Minecraft "Java" Edition. 3. Setup a server jar. Your server will not be ready to start up without launching a jar. Hit save then start your server. Start the Minecraft launcher in the server version that you selected on the list. You can enroll in a self-taught course of extremely obtuse pc engineering by downloading and loading up this Minecraft save file. He can combat towards a participant who's managed by the computer or one other player in the identical world.

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#Twitsoc #Just Another Blog

[laftoro]

Shooting Star

#hana song #watercolor #dva #dva overwatch #overwatch #overwatch skin #overwatch art #fanart #dvaskin #so happy to have this skin and be able to reference screens of it #blessed #illustration #painting #traditional painting #traditional anime

[violetlilysunshine]

Plenty of Times

Boyfriend Chris Evans x Female Reader

Requested - Anon: Hey! Is it all right to request for Chris Evans where reader comes in after a girls night and just dotes on him and loves on him and its sickeningly fluffy and he’s like what’s gotten into you? and reader breaks down because one of her friends vented that her husband is abusive and neglectful and she sees how important it is to have a good man in her life 🤍

WC: 1,619

Warnings: Pet names [bubba, babe, honey], talk of a bad relationship [neglectful husband - but not about Chris/reader], mention of phone sex [but it doesn’t happen here]

A/N: I’m so so so so sorry this took so long, I’m working on clearing out my inbox though! 

IF YOUR NAME IS SCRATCHED OUT I CAN’T TAG YOU - I’VE STARTED REMOVING PEOPLE, SO IF IT’S NOT WORKING AND YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED SHOOT ME A MESSAGE AND WE’LL FIGURE IT OUT

MASTERLIST - Join my TAGLIST

You haven't gone out with your friends in so long. You’re all busy with your own stuff - work and relationships, some with kids to care for. So, when the opportunity arises, Chris encourages you to take advantage of it. 

The night was pretty simple, dinner, a couple of glasses of wine, and a few shared desserts before everyone was ready to head home. Most of your friends were not night owls like you by any standard, so when dinner wrapped up early, it was no surprise. At least that meant you got to go home to your man. 

“Bubba?” you called as you walked through the front door.

“In here,” he answered.

You followed his voice to the living room, finding him lounging on the chaise sofa, Dodger soundly asleep next to him. Some movie played on the screen; you hadn’t paid attention to it long enough to know what it was.

You headed to the connected kitchen, dropping your keys and purse on the island, hanging your jacket on the back of one of the barstools, and slipping out of your boots before hurrying back to Chris. 

He paused the movie when he heard you approach him from behind. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, your hands splayed across his chest, as you pressed a long kiss to his temple. 

He hummed at the contact, placing one hand over the top of both of yours, before turning his neck to meet your lips with his. 

The kiss was sweet and simple, you could feel him smile against your lips as you lingered longer and longer into it. 

He chuckled when you finally pulled away, a big smile etched across his face and a glimmer in his eyes. 

You unraveled from his neck and stepped around the sofa. Dodger finally perked up when he heard you walking and you greeted him of course. 

“Hey, bub,” you whispered, scratching Dodger’s head for a second before turning to Chris, “can we cuddle?” you asked quietly. 

“Sure, babe, we can always cuddle,” he answered with a small smile, opening the blanket for you. 

You slipped under, resting between his legs with your back on his chest. He wrapped the blanket and his arms around you, splaying his palms over your upper chest and rubbing gently, just as you had done to him. You ran your nails over his arm as light as a feather with one hand, the other rested on top of his clasped hands, tangling your fingers with one set of his as best you could in this position. 

You tugged on his hand, pulling his arm further over your shoulder so you could place kisses on his bicep. 

“How was girl’s night?” he asked, placing a light kiss to the top of your head.

“Fine,” you whispered, squeezing his hands for a second, “was nice to see everyone. They all seemed to need a good vent,” you ended with a breathy chuckle.

You felt his laugh rumble through your body, “don’t they always?” he asked, another kiss being placed on top of your head as he looped his legs around yours.

“Seems like,” you giggled, stroking his calf with your foot. 

“Well I hope it was nice either way,” he said, “I’m glad you got to see them.” 

“Mm, yeah, me too,” you answered quietly.

He slipped one hand from your grasp to grab the remote, causing a whine to leave your lips, disappearing into his skin as you had your lips placed on his bicep again. 

He chuckled at the noise, “want me to start it over?” he nodded, making reference to the movie.

“No, it’s okay,” you whisper, pressing another lingering kiss to his arm. 

“You sure? I’m not that far into it...” 

“I’m sure, I won’t really be paying attention anyway.” 

“Why’s that?” he asked, you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Can’t focus with you wrapped around me,” you giggled.

“Mm, yeah, sorry not sorry,” he laughed, playing the movie again.

You giggled, bringing his hand up to your lips to give it a kiss.

He gave his other hand back to you and you entwined your fingers with it as well, giving both of his hands small squeezes every once in a while. 

You placed random kisses on his arms, pulling his hands up every now and again to press kisses to them as well. You didn’t want to do it too often, so you wouldn’t annoy him, but you couldn’t help but give him a few. 

You tilted your head to look up at him, his eyes focused on the movie before he looked down at you. 

“What’s up?” he asked, his voice sounding a little tired. 

“Nothing,” you whispered, passing him a small smile. 

“You’re lying,” he said, placing a kiss on your forehead, “what’s on your mind?” 

You sighed deeply, “have I told you how much I love you?” 

He reached over and paused the movie, quickly tangling his hand with yours again: “all the time,” he smiled. 

“And how great you are?” 

“Plenty of times,” he chuckled. 

“And how thankful I am for you?” 

“More than once,” he answered, a sense of questioning coming into his voice. 

“And how kind and good you are to me?”

“Never in those words, but you deserve it more than anything,” he said, “where’s this coming from?” 

“Jenn was really upset tonight,” you started. 

“And that has to do with me, how?” 

“She was talking about how rough her marriage is. And I know everyone says the first year is the hardest, but he doesn’t prioritize her, and never really has, and if I’m being honest I always thought she could do better; and she feels so disconnected from him and he’s so distant and she’s just not happy,” you rambled, tears pricking at your eyes, “and of course the whole time she was talking I felt so bad for her, but I couldn’t help thinking that I’m so lucky to have a guy like you and that made me feel even worse. Ya know? Like guilty because I was sitting there thinking ‘well at least I’m not in her shoes,’ and, god, you’re so good to me and I appreciate and love you so much. Don’t feel like I tell you that enough, but, you’re the best,” you finished, taking a deep breath. 

“Honey,” Chris soothed, “you have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about, first off. It’s not your fault he treats her like crap, and all you can do is support her with whatever she chooses to do about it. She can leave, or they could go to therapy, or she might just ignore it all together, but the only thing you can and should do is listen to her vent and offer support, or sometimes advice if she asks for it.”

You smile, “I know, but it’s just a shitty situation. Like I wish she wasn’t going through it, because she’s great, and I wish he was as good to her as you are to me.” 

“Well no one’s as good as me,” Chris joked, trying to lift your spirits.

You laughed lightly in response, turning over a little bit and scooting up so you could lay face to face with him. 

“Second,” he continued, “I’m only giving you what you deserve. Wish I could do a lot more sometimes, if I’m honest,” he said almost under his breath as he wrapped his arms around your back.

“Chris, you do more than enough! I should be doing more for you!” 

“Babe, you give me everything I could ever want,” he smiles, “you’re amazing. Wish I could do more, like I wish I wasn’t away from you so much. Don’t like leaving you, ever.”

“You’re the best,” you lean forward, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth, “you do plenty for me even when you’re away.”

“Not nearly enough,” he says, “gotta come up with something new for us.” 

“We’ve done plenty of new things while you’re away.” 

“Yeah? You think?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Hey, without you, I never would’ve tried phone sex,” you giggle, “love trying new things as long as it’s with you. Especially that thing...” 

He lets out a breathy laugh at that, “I love you too,” he says, referring back to your ramble but also your willingness to try anything for and with him.

You giggle, this time pecking his lips, “I don’t deserve you,” you whisper against his mouth. 

“No, you don’t,” he says shortly. 

You pull away from him, not expecting that to come out of his mouth. 

“You deserve better,” he smiles, a glimmer in his eye again.

“You’re so corny!” you laugh loudly, causing Dodger to grumble next to Chris. 

“Sorry, bub,” you laugh at Dodge.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?” Chris suggests.

“What about the movie?” you ask, tipping your head towards the TV.

“Eh, won’t be able to pay attention now anyway, and I’ve lost the flow,” he shrugs. 

“Sorry to interrupt,” you whisper, stroking a few fingers across his cheekbone. 

“‘S alright,” he whispers, “like you better anyway.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper, eyelids heavy as they start to flutter closed for a kiss. 

Chris closes the distance between the two of you, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, “I love you,” he whispers into your mouth. 

“I love you too,” you whisper back.

Your lips seal in a gentle kiss, and he brings a hand up to rest on your cheek before pulling back: “you can always make it up to me anyway,” he says, a smile giving away his attempt at being serious.

You laugh at him, “alright, bubba, let’s get you to bed.”

TAGLIST: @hogwartsmarvelmommy @tulipholland @cupids-crystals @sunwardsss @mrspeacem1nusone @elishi03 @golden-hoax  @patzammit @serrendiipty @katiew1973 @princess-evans-addict @high-on-darren-criss @gnemgn @amelia-song-pond @scorpiowidow @multixfandomwriter @wildxwidow @na-nou83 @fdl305 @gotbangtan @dumbhead1 @evansxchalamet

#chris evans #chris evans fluff #chris evans x reader #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x fem reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans oneshot #chris evans fanfiction #Chris Evans fanfic #cevans fluff #cevans #cevans x reader #cevans x female reader #violetlilysunshine #violetwrites

[imwiththefae]

Perfect

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky wants a little something to get him through a long mission.

Warnings: Nudity/photographed nudity, implications of smut and a sex tape/video (18+ older, please!), one bad language word, fluff

Word Count: Roughly 1680

A/N: This piece has got to be one of my favorites that I’ve ever done. Sweet and spicy at the same time! A big big thank you to Rose, @gogolucky13, for letting me bounce this idea off her and brainstorming with me! I really don’t think this piece would’ve reached its full potential without her help. She’s an amazing human and a fantastic writer, so go and check her out! Please forgive/ignore any mistakes you may find. Happy reading!

______________________

“Babydoll?”

You offer a small hum in reply, your attention still stuck to the weathered paperback book in your hands. To your right, Bucky snaps his own book closed and sets it on his bedside table.

“You know how I have this two week mission coming up?” You look at him now, a mixture of anxiety and sadness settling within you, where they would inevitably make their home over the weeks to come. You force a wary smile. Despite your own feelings, you want Bucky to know that you’ll support him endlessly. This time is no different.

“Yeah, what about it?” Turning back to his bedside table, Bucky reaches for his phone before facing you again. You watch him fiddle with the device, noticing how he doesn’t meet your eyes when he speaks.

“I was...thinking,” he begins, and a entirely new wave of worry overtakes you. Thinking what? Surely he couldn’t be ending things with you over a lengthy mission. The two of you have been together for three years, for God’s sake. Does he want to opt out of the operation? You don’t know the details, but do the risks outweigh benefits this time around? The thought sends you into another round of panic, and even though you’re good at hiding it, Bucky is quick to notice the shift in your mood.

“I was just thinking that I want some...pictures of us. Of you...just to have while I’m away.” A pink flush colors his cheeks. You quirk a confused eyebrow at him.

“We have lots of pictures together, Buck,” you say, and as if on cue, his phone lights up, revealing a selfie the two of you had taken on your date to Central Park. You’re laughing, a smudge of chocolate ice cream smeared on your cheek. Bucky is laughing, too, his own cup of mint chocolate chip clutched in his free hand. Even in a photo, the immense amount of love he holds for you is evident in the way he’s looking at you.

“I know,” Bucky cracks a coy smile, but it fades when he continues to speak. “I meant the kinds of pictures of you...that I can’t show anyone else.” Now, he’s pulling at a loose thread on the comforter. Still not quite following him, you cock your head to the side. He huffs. “Pictures of you...naked,” he all but mumbles. Now it registers.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you muse, a mischievous smirk playing at your lips. “Do you want to take my nudes?” The flush on his cheeks deepens and he finally chances a glance at you. Your reaction noticeably eases his nerves a little.

“If that’s what they’re called these days, then yes.” He reaches a hand to scratch at the back if his neck. “If it’s okay with you, of course.” Your heart flutters. Always the gentleman. Closing your book and depositing it on your own bedside table, you waste no time in stripping yourself of your (his) t-shirt. Bucky watches with wide eyes, ogling at you as if it’s the first time he’s ever seen you bare.

“What’d you have in mind?” you ask eagerly. He chuckles, opening his phone and selecting the camera. Before you can even register it, he’s snapping a photo of you cross-legged and bare-chested on the bed. “Hey! I wasn’t even ready!”

“Don’t worry, babydoll,” he smirks. “Just a quick test. You look beautiful, anyways.” You can tell by the way his smirk widens at his phone screen that he’s admiring his work.

“You should probably make a separate album for these, just to be safe. I don’t need Sam or Steve seeing my boobs.” You cringe at the thought. “Do you need me to show you how?” Bucky chuckles again, turning his phone to you. On the screen, the candid photo of you is displayed in an album labeled “My Best Girl”. Butterflies fill your stomach, and it’s your turn to blush a deep pinky-red. If you weren’t so flattered and in love with this teddy bear of a man, you’d be worrying about who taught him how to create a new photo album...and if they knew what it was for.

“Alright, come over here,” Bucky instructs, rising from the bed and padding over to the full-length mirror in the corner of your shared bedroom. You follow him eagerly, shimming out of your panties once you’re standing beside him. Again, he watches you, his smirk wide and his eyes hooded with desire. Still, though, the rosey blush hasn’t left his cheeks. You can tell that he’s nervous from they way he watches you, gauging your every move and reaction. This is new territory for him, and while you’re the only one he’d ever want to explore it with, he’d be damned if he upset you in any way.

“Gotta be nude for the nudes,” you giggle, taking in your naked reflection and Bucky’s half naked one beside you. His grey sweatpants are low on his hips, but his upper half is bare and muscular and absolutely perfect. Something about being completely exposed and vulnerable while he’s still somewhat clothed sends a chill up your spine and an aching desire straight to your core.

“Okay, will you hold this? And please, let me know if you want to stop at all.” You nod. Bucky hands you his phone and moves to stand behind you. He hesitates for a moment, and then his right arm comes around your body and across your breasts, positioning himself in such a way that only your nipples are covered. His vibranium arm snakes it way down your left side, cool fingers ticking soft skin, his hand coming to rest against the most intimate part of your body, shielding you from the camera lens. If you were turned on before, it doesn’t compare to the feeling that floods your body now. His large frame wrapped around you, his hands, both calloused and smooth, concealing the parts of you that are only his to see and touch...it’s enough to make you feral. You rest your left hand on his metallic forearm, leaning back into his warm chest. Bucky nuzzles his nose into your neck, his lips finding the spot where your neck and your shoulder meet. Raising his phone to the mirror, you snap the picture.

“Perfect,” Bucky whispers against your skin, and it’s obviously that he isn’t referring to the picture, though you’re positive that came out just as well. Gently, he guides your body to turn around in his arms, taking the phone from your hand. Now chest to chest, he drapes your arm over his shoulder. You follow suit with your other arm, reaching up on your toes and wrapping them around the back of his neck. Something between a squeal and a giggle escapes you when his vibranium hand grips your ass cheek, giving it a playful squeeze. Bucky laughs. “Stay still, sweetheart.” The camera clicks again.

“You’ve really thought this through, huh?” you quip, pulling back to look at him. Your arms still rest around his neck, your fingers tangling in his long brown locks. “You should be a photographer after you’re done avenging.”

“Only if you get to be my model.” He steals a soft kiss.

You continue to allow him to do what he wants, molding your body into whatever position he likes. Slowly, he sheds his nervousness and lets his guard down. Sweet nothings are whispered and giggles are shared. The level of trust and comfort the two of you have been able to find in each other never ceases to amaze you, or him, for that matter. Never did Bucky think that he’d ever get to a place like this. But now that he’s here, now that he’s with you, nothing else seems to matter.

Now he’s leading you back to the bed and laying you back among the messy sheets. He settles between your legs, his phone camera at the ready as you tuck your hands behind your head. “Wait,” he says, seemingly more to himself than to you. Your brows knit together in wonder as he reaches over and pulls open one of the drawers in his bedside table. A soft metallic jingle has you pushing yourself up on to your elbows. Your eyes go wide once you see what Bucky pulls from the drawer.

“Will you put these on?” He looks at you innocently, expectantly. You hesitate, eyes wide as your gaze flicks between Bucky and his dog tags that dangle from his hand.

“Buck...are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, sweetheart,” he smiles, the meaning of his words reaching far beyond the idea of someone else wearing his dog tags. He drapes the cold chain over your head and gingerly pulls your hair from underneath it. The two silver tags that bare his name come to rest perfectly in the valley of your breasts. “Perfect.”

Smiling, you lay back again as a warmth blooms in your chest. You’re fully convinced your heart will burst one day because you can’t contain how much you love your super soldier. Until then, you’ll spend every moment showing him just how much he means to you. Resting your head on your hands, you give him your best flirty smile. Bucky snaps a few pictures this time. Sitting back on his haunches, he scrolls through the latest pictures, pinching his bottom lip between his teeth.

“These are too good not to set as my screensaver, babydoll,” he almost whines. You giggle, poking your toe playfully into his abdomen.

“Fine,” you relent. “But only as your home screen. Keep your lock screen PG.”

“Deal.” You watch him as he fiddles with his phone, noticing his growing arousal that his sweatpants do nothing to hide. An idea pops into your head.

“So...you’ve got my nudes now,” you purr, sitting up and grabbing the drawstring of his sweatpants. “How about a video to match?” Bucky’s eyes go wide, his pupils blowing, the task of switching his screensaver forgotten now.

“Are you sure?” His previous nerves make a small reappearance.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Buck.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs.

————————-

Read part 2 here!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #bucky barnes smut #marvel #marvel fic #mcu fic #mcu fluff #marvel fluff #marvel smut #mcu smut

[mypoisonedvine]

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐥 || dark!tonda x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || everyone in your village spread horrifying rumors about the boys who worked at the mill— called them sorcerers, warlocks, devil-worshippers. maybe if you'd known the rumors were true, you would've thought twice before crossing one of them.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 7k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || smut (noncon due to use of magic), humiliation, unwanted creampie, clit spanking, spitting kink (brief), painful loss of virginity, cockwarming (mentioned), death/murder mention (off-screen), period-typical misogyny (if not significantly less than period-typical it's fucking 1650), a slap, another dude being super creepy to the reader, period-typical descriptions of servitude, brief 'master' kink, some mild religious references, accepting candy from strangers

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - obviously this does not require any knowledge of the book or film, though references are made to it that you'll get if you have consumed either. I used some brief, reconstructed upper sorbian just to be needlessly period- and region-accurate; lubosč is a basic term of endearment like 'darling' or 'sweetheart' and mały kurwa means 'little whore' lmao so yeah you have those to look forward to... oh, and a 'stay' is the medieval predecessor to the corset. sorry for the long-ass note lol

You tightened the laces of your stay until it was just the right fit— snug enough to hold your back straight, but not so restrictive that you wouldn’t be able to breathe right while working today. And there was plenty of work to be done today.

Firstly, the floor needed to be swept and scrubbed, then the tankards that had been soaking overnight needed to be dried before the first patron came in requesting mead or ale, and then after that it was just the usual barmaid tasks: keeping tables clean, keeping customers happy, and keeping the kegs stocked with booze.

The first half of the day went on without anything of note happening; in a town like this, there really weren’t ever ‘new’ customers, just a rotating list of regulars, so you knew what to expect.

It was all quite predictable, in fact: Korla, the man who owned the bakery and the big house on the hill, always ordered two ales and tried to make you listen to him brag about his wealth— but at least he always left you a few coins on the table when he left, the most beneficial way for him to show off to you. Handrij, a younger man with dark brown hair cut close to his scalp, hardly looked at you while you served him and his friends— Jan, Jakub, and another whose name you could never remember— and liked to dramatically order rounds for the whole pub when he’d had a bit too much himself.

And Jurij, the leatherworker who tended to be overdressed for a place like this, always gave you more of his spare change if you let him touch you just a little bit too much without making a face or telling him to piss off. You needed the money today, so you bit your tongue while you were cleaning his table and he ran the back of his fingers over your forearm, exposed by your rolled-up sleeve. “You’re such a pretty girl,” he cooed at you, “it’s a shame to see you working this hard.”

It took real willpower not to roll your eyes when he said that, but you just kept leaning over the table to wipe it with your rag, nearly shuddering visibly when he gently grabbed your arm instead and started to stroke your skin lightly with his thumb.

“Don’t you think you’ll ever get married?” he pressed.

“Why should I?” you smirked. “At least now I’m getting paid to clean up after a man.”

He laughed a bit, and even though part of you would’ve been relieved if he was offended and left you alone, at the same time you were relieved now that you weren’t going to lose out on your tip for saying that. “You’re a bit cynical, I see. But I don’t mind that— I think it’s good that a girl sees things for what they are, not just what she wishes they should be. A lot of girls your age are caught up in fancy and merriment, but not you: you’re practical.”

Did he really think insulting other girls would be a compliment? Did he really think you cared what he did or didn’t mind? “I try to be,” you answered flatly, hoping to bore him enough that he’d give up.

Having finished cleaning the table, you tried to pull back but his grip on your arm tightened, tugging you closer to him. “Hey,” he corrected quietly, “don’t go yet.”

“I have to—” you began to explain, looking to your side where more tables needed to be wiped down.

“Shh,” he interjected, his other hand pulling your face back to look at him again, “there’s nobody else here. You don’t need to serve anyone.”

You hadn’t actually noticed that he was the only one in the pub with you, and it made you want to squirm in his grip, though you resisted the urge.

“Anyone but me, that is,” he added, voice a little lower. You understood, then, that ‘there’s no one here for you to serve’ really meant ‘there’s no one here to stop me.’

His grip on your arm tightened again, almost painfully so, before he started to lean in closer to your face— like he was trying to stop you from getting away before you even tried. The hand on your face moved back to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, his chin tilting up with his crooked grin as he stared you down.

“You would make a good little wife, I think,” he hummed. “Sure, you like your independence now, but I think you’d like being married, too— someone to take care of you…”

He leaned in even closer, to speak right in your ear after he’d kissed it lightly.

“Someone to belong to…” he added with a whisper, kissing you again on your cheek, and just below where your ear met your neck, as you wished more than anything to get away. You already belonged to someone— the pub owner, and while he was stern at times, he was a just master and you would rather not anger him by delaying your work any longer.

“I-I don’t—” you stammered, struggling against Jurij’s grasp again.

“Shh,” he soothed, “don’t be rude, lubosč, I just want to show you how beautiful you are…”

Just as Jurij opened his mouth wider to suck gently on your neck, the front door swung open and you both pulled back slightly in shock.

A group of boys had dashed in, and though you didn’t recognise their faces, you knew who they were just by the way they were dressed and the air of foreignness— of unsettling strangeness itself— that seemed to follow them in.

The boys from the mill. The ones that made everyone uncomfortable each time they came into town for essentials. The ones that were said to practice unspeakable evil in their secretive mill, closed completely to all outsiders, even though no one really had much proof past old folk tales.

They were generally considered unsavory customers, and your master had forbidden you from serving them, but right now, they were your saviors.

The boy that seemed to lead them— he was walking in front, and he’d been the one who was talking when they all saw you and Jurij and everyone fell into uncomfortable silence— gave you a little smirk beneath his stubbly beard as he observed the situation you were in. Shame burned on your face as he looked at you, and you looked back at him. Jurij was looking at him, too; glaring at him as if he’d interrupted a private moment. But the boy only stared back at you, and though his face was somewhat neutral, you saw his judgment… or maybe it was just that him looking at you made it impossible not to judge yourself.

As the boys moved along and took their place at one of the empty tables, you cleared your throat and finally wrenched yourself out of Jurij’s relaxed grasp.

“I should get back to work,” you mumbled awkwardly, scuttering away to get behind the bar and furiously scrub some tankards to look busy.

Unfortunately, the group of new customers didn’t seem to pick up on the implications of your ignorance. “Barmaid?” the one you’d made unwanted eye contact with before called out, waving outward to try to catch the corner of your eye, which he did. “Miss?”

You frowned and sighed, but walked to their table, standing beside it and staring at them silently as they each looked back at you.

Although they were young, and at present acting generally harmless, they did still intimidate you slightly just for sitting there. Especially the leader, who seemed to see more than he necessarily let on; he had his curls of sandy-blonde hair pulled back into a small tail, and a few smears of soot dirtying his cheeks and forehead. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I want to drink?” he wondered, smiling a bit like he already knew the answer and was just harassing you with his question.

“No, and I think it would be better if you left,” you answered.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

You decided just to ignore his tone, and humor his feigned confusion. “Barkeep says we don’t serve your kind here.” You felt a little guilty, and a little scared, when he glared at you. “His words, not mine.”

“And what kind would that be, specifically?” he asked, raising his brow as if to challenge you.

“Mill boys,” you answered confidently. “You know everyone thinks you’re Satanists. They think you hide there to learn your dark magic… it scares them.”

He sat up a little taller, spoke a little quieter. “Are you scared of me?”

“No,” you shrugged, “I’m more worried you’re gonna stiff me than curse me. A poor mill boy can’t afford to tip, anyhow.”

That seemed to hit him harder than accusations of witchcraft had. “I didn’t expect you to be so inhospitable,” he snapped. “You seem to be quite accommodating with your other patrons.”

The other boys snickered and you swallowed thickly, hating that they’d seen you letting Jurij all but feel you up, but that was different. It was just for a better tip; you weren’t just some floozy barmaid who let customers get handsy for the thrill of it. “I’ve asked you to leave,” you reminded them firmly. “If my master finds you here, he won’t ask.”

There was a pregnant pause before the leader stood up from his seat with a reluctant sign, and the others quickly followed. Quietly, they filed out and started to leave, but apparently the curly-haired blonde wasn’t quite done with you yet. You gasped as his hand grabbed your sleeve at the shoulder and pulled you close to him. “Tell your master that his prejudices might give him trouble someday,” he growled at you, “and that his bar girl should remember her place.”

He let you go roughly, shoving you back slightly so that you stumbled for a moment, and in a flurry of silent rage the boys were gone from whence they came.

Thankfully, the rest of the night went off without a hitch after that, although you were so shaken up that you took the liberty to close the bar early. After some more cleaning and preparations to open tomorrow, you finally took a deep sigh and scanned the empty pub, checking for anything else that needed to be done before you could get to bed for the night.

Thankfully, your quarters were just down the hall; since your full-time dedication as your master’s servant was to upkeep the pub, you simply lived in a small room in the back with a cot and oil lamp. You had one purpose, and though it was simple, you took pride in it. It was no wonder, then, that you felt yourself smile slightly as you appreciated your day’s work and admired the spotless room, every surface cleaned and waxed, each tankard and keg carefully cleaned, each table arranged exactly perpendicular to each wall and each chair upturned and placed on it.

In fact, you were the only dirty thing left in the room; so, with a wipe of the sweat off your forehead with the back of your rag-laden hand, you retired for the evening, beginning to untie your apron on the way to your room.

Your eyes landed quickly on the one thing you didn’t expect: a small fruit tart on your table, one clearly left by a visitor while you’d been at work.

You beamed as you saw the snack beside your bed, laid on a cloth napkin. There wasn’t any note to indicate from whom it might be, not that that would’ve been much help to you considering you’d never been taught to read. Besides, it was quite obvious that it was a gift from your master’s wife: she occasionally brought you extra food from the dinner table, though rarely something as nice as this. Having gone most of your shift without eating at all, you were happy to hop onto your bed and chow down.

Perhaps it was worth savoring, but you didn’t have the time or self-control to do that, especially once you tasted the first bite and involuntarily moaned to yourself at the delicious sweetness. You decided you’d find time to thank Cecilija for the kind gift in the morning, because she was likely already gone to sleep for the night.

As you shamelessly licked your fingers after finishing the last bite, even using your wetted finger to pick up every crumb from atop your blanket, you heard a rushed and heavy knock at the door— not your room, the front door of the pub.

Furrowing your brow in confusion, you waited a moment until you heard another one to get up and start re-tying your apron strings on the way back. “Who is it?” you called out as you exited the back hall and approached the front door, getting no answer.

Thinking it to be your master (most likely and best case scenario), or Jurij claiming to have left something behind even though you’d scrubbed the whole place down on your hands and knees and knew for a fact that wasn’t possible (less likely and slightly concerning to imagine), you swung open the door and gasped at the sight of the boy you’d turned away before. “You know, I don’t think I ever actually introduced myself,” he greeted with a tilted smirk, “my name is Tonda. What’s yours?”

You’d heard that telling a sorcerer your true name was dangerous, gave him greater chance to control you with magic. You remained silent and he laughed a bit.

“Right, can’t be too safe in times like this,” he relented. “Wouldn’t want to go around giving supposed warlocks the chance to cast their devil-magic on you.” He wiggled his fingers at you as if to pantomime a silly spell.

His brow raised, though, when you lifted your tongue inside your mouth to suckle at your teeth.

“Did you already eat the tart?” he asked, and your stomach dropped. He must’ve seen it on your face; he laughed coldly as he stepped inside right as you stepped back. “You won’t give me your name but you’ll eat any treat you just… find lying around. Gluttony is a sin, didn’t any church elders tell you that while they were lecturing about how you need to fear the Satan-worshippers from the mill?”

“I— I thought—” you stammered weakly over your defense, but he heard none of it, only sneering at you as he slammed the door behind himself.

“You shouldn’t’ve been so rude earlier,” he explained darkly. “It’s a shame you don’t know how to treat paying customers— someone really should’ve taught you some manners.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” you defended, “my master told me not to—”

“Apologise to me.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurted before you could stop it. Why had you said that? You weren’t even sorry, really, though you did feel a bit bad for him.

“Hmm, I think you should be more effusive than that, you need to really grovel,” he decided, smirking proudly to himself.

“I think you need to go back to where you came from and get the hell away from me!” you shouted back.

"Shut up and get on your knees," he demanded, and instantly you fell to kneel before him— you couldn't stop it, couldn't fight it, couldn't even question it, you just did it.

He laughed a cold, hollow laugh as he looked down at you. "Are you trying to get up? Don't resist the magic, it'll injure you if you try too hard."

You believed that, unfortunately: you could feel the threat of pain around the edges of everything, like an aura that would shock or prick you if you moved outside of his will. And you couldn’t speak, because he’d told you to shut up.

Your eyes started to burn with fresh tears as you realised your fatal mistake; some would say your mistake was eating the tart without questioning too thoroughly where it had really come from, but you knew you were doomed long before then. This somewhat-unassuming peasant boy really was the warlock all the village people claimed he and his fellow mill workers were, and from the moment you’d refused to serve him, he made it his mission to humiliate and punish you. Sooner or later, he would’ve found a way to get to you— though it was embarrassing that it ended up being so much sooner.

“Now,” he began again, “I think you’re ready to apologise to me properly. Start by saying you’re sorry for being so disrespectful.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeated soberly, “for being so disrespectful.”

“Hmm, I’m sure you are,” he nodded, stroking his chin as he stared down at you kneeling on the floor, “but you’re just not sorry enough quite yet. Get up.”

You rose to your feet quickly, though you lost your balance as he pushed you back: he didn’t push you very hard at all, it was probably almost no effort for him, but it was hard enough to send you stumbling backward until you caught yourself on the edge of a table, between two chairs stacked on it, leaning against it for support.

He stalked forward and cornered you against it as you shrunk away instinctively, though you couldn’t stop him from pressing his body up against yours. You looked away but he demanded that you look up at him and, without any choice, you did. “I’m going to teach you a lesson,” he promised, cold but firm.

“Y-you can’t,” you stammered, “my master will be back soon, and he’ll—”

“He’s already been dealt with,” Tonda interrupted with a snarl. “I’m your master now.”

He didn’t give you any time to process either of those realisations before he gave you first command, speaking right by your ear as his fingers began to push your dress off your shoulder delicately.

"Spread your legs for me," he whispered, "and lift up your skirts, nice and slow."

Against every desire that begged you not to, you sat back on the table and propped your legs up on it as you spread them wide, beginning to gather up your apron and skirt while he leaned back slightly to watch you with a bemused smirk.

The fabric sliding over your legs made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, your heart beating faster with every inch higher you moved your dress. He hummed and ran his hand over your leg; you wished more than anything to kick away from his touch, but the magic was there, waiting, threatening to hurt you if you disobeyed.

Finally you held your dress up to your hips; a draft in the room was uncomfortably cool on your unprotected legs, but it wasn’t the only reason a chill ran up your spine.

He grinned at you with crooked, rotted teeth, and you hardly managed to swallow down your grimace. Being exposed so lewdly made a sick feeling tingle in the pit of your stomach and, oddly, made further wetness gather at your entrance.

“Oh, mały kurwa,” he mocked, “do you enjoy showing me your pussy?”

“N-no,” you choked out your reply, even though you weren’t exactly in a place to deny it when he could see the proof of your arousal.

“Perhaps I should’ve cursed that tart to make you honest as well as obedient,” he joked. “Loosen your stay.”

With a swallowed whimper, you reached behind your back and untied the bow, loosening the strings until you could take it off— and the apron with it— such that you were left only in your chemise. Finally he did something himself: he stepped forward and grabbed the garment at the neck, snarling as he roughly tore the front open and exposed your chest. He kept his eyes trained right on yours as he roughly groped your breasts, his hands hot and calloused and entirely too brutal on your delicate skin.

For your credit, you tried to put on a brave face; you just looked back up at him and tried not to look shy and scared, because that seemed to be exactly what he wanted. When he’d asked you before, hardly half a day since now but so long ago, if you were scared of him… he wanted you to be. But you refused to be.

He sensed it. And it angered him. “You think you’re better than me,” he sneered, pausing his assault to grab you by the torn collar of your chemise.

“No, that’s not—” you denied.

“Some peasant bitch and you think you’re better than me?” he continued anyway. “What, just because you’re clean and you’ve got some cushy servant’s job working the bar and letting any old creep feel you up for a tip? You’re not gonna be clean anymore when I’m done with you… you’ll remember your place after I dirty you up a bit.”

You decided not to disagree with him anymore, since it just seemed to anger him further. He let go of your collar and stood up straight with his arms crossed smugly.

“Take my cock out,” he demanded. Instantly, your plan not to disagree was dashed.

“No, please,” you spoke quickly, though you were only barely managing to stop your arm from reaching out to do it.

“Don’t test me!” he warned sharply. “Don’t make me say it again, either.”

With a little grunt, you gave up your fight against the curse controlling your body and reached forward, slipping a hand into his trousers and almost yelping when you felt his hard member bump against your palm. You used one hand to hold it, trying not to think about what you were doing, while the other tugged his trousers down.

Well, it was hard not to think about what you were doing when you could see it, thick and veiny and flexing against your grip. You sighed as he stepped forward, suddenly pulling your hips closer to the edge of the table.

“W-wait,” you pleaded quickly, but he ignored you completely as he pushed your hand aside and suddenly speared himself right into you, making you yelp and grip the edge of the table hard enough to carve the shape of your fingernails into it.

“Fuck, are you a virgin?” he breathed. “Or, were you a virgin?”

You bit your lip to try to stop from crying, nodding quickly.

“Oh, good girl,” he grinned, leaning in to bury his face against your neck as he began to move. You sobbed and reached up to push at his shoulders, desperate to make him stop.

But he hadn’t commanded you to stop fighting, not yet; he wasn’t wielding his paranormal, Satanic power over you anymore… just his physical strength, just his power over you as a man who had a woman pinned to a table and could do anything he wanted to her and get away with it. “You’re hurting me,” you informed him shakily between your pained cries.

He let you beat on his back for a while, tug on his tunic and claw at his shoulders, before he finally lost his patience and grabbed you by the wrists, pinning you down to the table.

He made a point of thrusting even deeper, grinding his hips up against the back of your thighs each time he was completely inside you, and you let out a long cry every time. “Stop, please!” you begged.

“God, what a precious fucking cunt you’ve got,” he praised roughly, letting his head fall back for a moment as he sped up yet again. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You were only such a bitch to me before because you wanted me to ruin you, right? Admit it.”

“I was only such a bitch because I wanted you to ruin me,” you agreed against your will.

He kept you repeating after him for ages, and as awful as it was, at least it gave you something to do to distract you from the pain.

I wanted you to fuck me, Tonda, I wanted you inside me— this is all I wanted, for you to come back and make me yours. I just needed your cock to make me a pathetic, sobbing, drooling mess…

When he tired of that, he moved on thoroughly abusing your breasts, pinching and tugging your nipples until they were so hard they were sore, then suckling on them eagerly while you tried not to notice that it actually felt rather nice. Each time his tongue swiped over a sensitive bud, your walls clenched around his cock and he smiled against your skin, taunting you for giving yourself away. “The pain must’ve gone by now,” he decided, “it feels good, doesn’t it? You like it.”

Though he was right, in a last play for your dignity, you shook your head; all that got you was him pulling away from sucking on your nipples to frown and slap you across the face.

"Say you love it," he growled.

"I love it," you repeated through your teeth.

"Tell me that you love the way I fuck you."

"I—" you choked on it, trying more than anything not to say the rest of it but failing quickly, "I love the way you fuck me…"

"I can tell, you're gripping on to me so tight— you like it, wench? You like being fucked like the dirty fucking slut you are?”

"I hate you!" you spat.

"But you can't answer my question," he noticed with a grin. "It's all right, you don't need to be ashamed. It's okay to like it. After all, I like fucking you like the dirty fucking slut you are. I love the way your sweet, innocent little pussy feels, so warm and soft inside."

He leaned down to speak quieter and closer to you, staring right at your face.

"I love seeing this cute body take my cock so deep. I love watching your tits bounce and your cunt stretch out wide to fit me: it feels good, you're so, so good…"

The praise shot straight through your body like a lightning bolt, making your back arch up off the table and your toes curl inside your shoes. Pleasure was building and you had no idea what to do with it— you'd never felt anything like this before, and it felt like it was powerful enough to consume you if you let it.

"Tell me that you want to be good for me," he instructed you.

"I want to be good for you, I want to do whatever you say," you moaned, and he let out a deep noise of raw, primal pleasure while he started to really slam into you, brutally claiming your body for himself.

"Look up at me and open your mouth, little girl, stick your tongue out," he grunted his demand, looking down at you with dark eyes as you obeyed. He pursed his lips and spit right into your waiting mouth, growling for you to swallow which you did quickly to get it over with.

As disgusting as it was, somehow it made your body writhe harder beneath him, his cock inside you stirring something deep and painfully intense.

"Stop trying to hold it back," he ordered with a low voice, and unfortunately it was not only his magic that made the command impossible to resist. "I can feel how much you want to come for me. Go on, then, and do it— come."

You couldn't be sure then if it was his curse that made the dam within you break and your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, but at a certain point, it didn't really matter. You cried out loudly, struggling under the grip of his hands pinning you down, and felt everything within you tense up all at once. Just barely past your own screams you could hear him moaning at how tight you'd become, and just beyond the tingling numbness inside you you could feel him fucking you even faster.

All your strength left you and your body went limp on the table, moved only by his thrusts rocking you back and forth. He laughed, though the sound was strained from his own exhaustion, as he admired your total surrender. "I knew you'd like it, just had to help you learn how to take it," he informed you, glancing down at where your bodies were joined with a little sigh. "You're fucking dripping, kurwa, you're making a mess on this floor you just cleaned."

Sadly, you believed him completely; you could hear the sound of your own wetness echoing lewdly around the empty room. You yelped a bit, your body weakly jolting, when he reached down to pinch your swollen clit.

"Come on, I wanna feel you come again," he purred.

"I can't," you breathed, "I— oh!"

He'd given you a spank right on your clit, hence the gasp, and when he gave you another your legs began to quiver. "Hurry up," he demanded impatiently as he kept hitting you, "I wanna feel it one more time before I'm finished."

There was something enticing about that: the idea that he might be done soon and leave you to your shame. It already felt like he'd been using you for ages and you just wanted to soak in the bath and try to convince yourself it never happened. You couldn't have known, yet, that just because he'd finish didn't mean he'd be done with you quite yet.

Though it reawakened a deep soreness, and took more energy from you than you knew you had, with enough encouragement and brutal stimulation to your clit, you came again— with a whimper rather than a scream.

"Fuck," he cursed as he felt your channel pulse once again, "you're gonna milk my cock, little barmaid— is that what you wanted? You want to milk my cock?"

Your eyes shot open as you realised where that 'milk' was bound to end up. "No—" you began with a gasp, but he interrupted immediately.

"Oh, don't play innocent, I know you want my come in you," he mocked, "I know you want it deep in this dirty fucking cunt."

"N-no, pull out, please," you whimpered, choking on a sob when you saw his grin and knew he was going to ignore your plea. "Tonda, please!"

He leaned down to speak right against your ear, still smiling smugly. "Beg me to come inside you," he instructed mockingly.

"Please, come inside me," you heard your voice obey, "please— I need every drop of your seed within me, I need you so desperately…"

"You can be even more pathetic than that, come on, get creative!" he encouraged.

"I'm nothing without your come, master, please!" you spoke suddenly, compelled by the magic but ultimately coming up with some of it all on your own. "Give me so much that I never forget who I belong to, I know I don't deserve it but please, please come inside me!"

"Such a faithful servant you are," he groaned, releasing one of your wrists so he could use the hand to grab at your breasts again instead, "and you'll get your reward— you'll get your master's come, just stay still and take my gift…"

You shut your eyes tight, biting down on your tongue to stop from sobbing, as he moved faster and more erratically while his cock started to flex against your channel. He moaned loudly, squeezing your wrists where he kept them pinned by your head, and finally you knew he was coming inside you when you felt a new kind of heat spread in your core and start to drip from your opening. You sobbed near-silently, eyes shut tight, as he slowed his movements to a stop and breathed heavily.

"Look up at me," he pleaded softly, and you blinked open your eyes and turned your head to see him— face stained with soot and sparkling with sweat— staring back at you darkly. "You're so good, my pretty little servant, you did so very good for me."

"I—" you began.

"Say 'thank you'," he prompted, "'for teaching me.'"

"Thank you," you repeated with a defeated sigh, "for teaching me."

"You're a quick learner— no wonder your master was so unwilling to give you up," Tonda shook his head.

With a small groan he pulled out of you, and you instantly felt a gush of hot, sticky wetness pour out of you: the only thing worse than the physical feeling of it was the metaphysical feeling of his eyes on you, watching your abused hole leak out his seed.

You tried to close your legs but he stopped you with his hands, kneeling down to get a closer look. "I really stretched you out, hm?" he mumbled, mostly to himself.

"Can't you just leave?" you groaned, and he stood up again.

"What? Why would I do that?"

"You've done the deed, you can go and let me bathe and sleep," you posited.

He smiled, almost giving you a look of pity, as he pulled you up by your arms— you were so weak he had to keep holding your waist to keep you sitting up. "I can," he agreed, "but why would I leave when I've got such an obedient servant right here?"

He leaned in to kiss your cheek, and your neck, as new tears began to fall down your numb face.

"I have a feeling you're gonna ask me to take you again before the night is through," he chuckled.

"Do I have to do what you say forever?" you wondered aloud.

"Yes," he answered, moving to kiss your neck.

"Just because of a blasted tart?!"

He chuckled again as he held the back of your head, sucking lightly on your pulse before standing up straight to look down at you again. "No, not because of the tart— I'm not quite that powerful. The curse will wear off eventually, probably by the end of the night,” he explained, “but there are other ways to make you obey, some much more effective than black magic.”

“Please, don’t hurt me,” you whimpered, shuddering at his laugh.

“Oh, I don’t have to,” he shook his head. “I can just remind you that your master is dead and you’ll starve without someone to serve who can feed you.”

You swallowed thickly, saying the smallest prayer in your mind for your master, hoping that he hadn’t suffered too greatly at the hands of this evil sorcerer that held you close to him now.

“Or,” he continued, “I could threaten that if you try to run from me, that I’ll let any of the boys at the mill have their way with you.” He smiled darkly as you whimpered at the suggestion. “Nearly two dozen young men who’ve been locked away from the world for years.... they’ll tear you apart,” he added with a wistful sort of look in his eye— he was imagining it, you realised with disgust. "So, as long as you behave, all you have to do is serve me. I think it's a pretty favorable deal, if I'm honest."

He could make you say yes, agree to anything; he could make you sign your life away. But he didn't use the curse to force you, waiting instead for your true answer.

Not that you exactly had a choice. For all his deception, he was being truthful in expressing that he was your only hope. A servant with no master is doomed, and after he'd defiled you your village would probably banish you not only for losing your maidenhead but for it being taken by a dreaded mill body— shit, they'd probably burn you at the stake, now that you thought about it, if they knew he'd put his seed in you and thought you might be carrying the spawn of Satan.

So you gave in to him, and somehow it was more humiliating than ever— because at least the first time, you had no choice but to do what he commanded, but now… now you had no curse to blame. "Yes," you breathed, looking up at him with watery eyes, "I'll be your servant."

He had you change into untorn clothes and pack your things— of which there were few— and follow him back through the dark forest to the mill where he showed you his bedroll: he couldn't give you another of your own so you were meant to share. You recognized a few of the other boys; you shuddered to feel their eyes on you, hoping they didn't notice the way you had to limp… not that it wouldn't be obvious what Tonda had done to you either way.

You didn't sleep that night: it was much too hot pressed up to his body under the thick wool blanket with his arm draped over your chest, though somehow you were shivering violently as well. You didn't sleep because you were afraid to dream; if you dreamt of freedom, of the life you had before, of any fate but this, it would be too cruel to wake up and remember you belonged to a sorcerer who intended to use you only for his own pleasure. It would be too cruel to have to open your eyes and see the gray stone walls— nothing like the soft wood of your quarters at the pub— and know you could never leave this place.

Tonda stirred and awoke after a few hours, pulling you closer drowsily but waking more when he realized you were wide awake. "Why aren't you sleeping?" he whispered under his breath, right by your ear.

"I can't," you whispered back.

"I can help you," he offered, "there are spells to make you—"

"No," you interjected quickly, "please, I don't want to sleep."

You felt him smile against your ear as he turned you onto your back. "Is there something else you want to do?" he asked coyly as he carefully climbed on top of you, slotting his body between your legs.

"Wait," you gasped, knowing you were still horribly sore.

"Ask me to fuck you," he instructed, and to be totally honest, you couldn't tell if the curse was still on you; did it really matter?

"Fuck me, Tonda, please," you whispered shakily.

His come was still leaking out of you from before, leaving your thighs slick yet sticky, and you shuddered when his cock slid over your folds with such ease.

Ease, however, was the last thing that came to mind just a moment later when he entered you. You yelped sharply when he pushed forward and gave you all of it at once— it stung so painfully to be torn open again by his cock, you couldn't help it. He grunted and clapped his hand down over your mouth, whispering in your ear. "You have to be quiet, you don't want to wake the others, do you?"

But you probably already had; they were probably listening now, hearing the blanket shift and your labored breathing and his skin rubbing against yours. They probably knew exactly what he was doing to you, and you tried not to imagine what they might do with that knowledge.

He kissed your tears away as they fell down your temples, cooing quiet praises to you, calling you his servant as often as he felt you needed to be reminded.

But you didn't need to be reminded, you knew damn well that you were trapped and owned. You'd never forget it, not with him forging a new path inside you again and promising to keep you full to the brim with his seed every chance he could get.

He made a lot of promises, actually: promises to keep you safe in exchange for your devotion, promises to pleasure you ("Not that it's any trouble, you're so sensitive and submit to me so easily," he felt the need to add mockingly), promises to keep you in his bed for days on end, promises to train you into the perfect servant.

And to his credit, he kept all of his promises. He proved to be somewhat… unpredictable; emotional, even. Some days he was rough and careless with you, taking whatever he needed, ignorant to your pain. Other days, and much more frequently, he seemed to crave your love even more than your body. He liked to whisper to you, telling you to say that you loved him, right as he filled you; sometimes he didn't even fuck you, just sliding himself inside you and telling you to keep him warm for the night.

He never did curse you to do his bidding again, but you were susceptible to his magic in other ways— some mundane, some rather lewd. But it wasn't quite witchcraft that made you learn to care for him, with time. It wasn't quite love, either, but something eerily similar.

It felt like love, sometimes; after a while, he stopped calling you his servant and started calling you his wife. Not that he treated you much different either way. At least he didn't make you wash clothes or work a farm or raise a hundred babies— frankly, you had more freedom than the average wife, in the end. A little less than the average maidservant, though. You weren't permitted to do much without him, and you only ever left the mill with your hand held tightly in his.

Once, the two of you even visited the nearby village together; you vaguely remembered it as once being your own.

You visited the pub. It was under new ownership. And this time, even though they cast a hateful glance at the devil-worshippers still, they served you.

#tonda x reader #krabat #dark!tonda x reader #daniel brühl x reader #daniel brühl dark fic