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lovebugism · 6 months

Note

ok reader x eddie having a casual conversation about sex, talking about what they're both into, leading to some smut??? just hearing what eddie's into sounds so hottttt (i imagine its filthy,, sorry)

ty for requesting! hope you like it!! — a failed date with eddie leads to a night in and several confessions (established relationship, mostly fluff, talks of sex but no actual smut 18+, 1.6k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson is a hopeless romantic.

Not because he loves like it’s breathing (though some would argue otherwise), but because his attempts to be affectionate with you are complete and utter failures.

He had a whole romantic day planned. A late lunch, a quick walk, and then sunset at the park. Honestly, it probably would’ve been a pretty metal date if it was any day other than this one — the biggest flood of the whole goddamn year.

You got to the diner just fine but had to rush back to the trailer in the rain since he didn’t have his van. Thankfully, it waited to outright pour until he got you home. Now, his leather jacket — which you’d used as a makeshift umbrella — hangs beside the opened window to dry.

The orange autumn breeze rolls over your bare bodies like silk (because, of course, an innocent shower after getting drenched in the rain couldn’t not end in getting dirty again).

“Was all this just a ploy to get me into bed?” you tease, tracing the freckles on his back with the tip of your finger. “’Cause you coulda just asked, you know? I would’ve said yes.”

Lying flat on his stomach, Eddie laughs into his folded-up arms. His deep brown hair brushes his pale shoulders when he turns to look at you. His smile is swollen and rosy and crooked.

“You got me, princess. Making my girlfriend walk in disgusting weather was all a part of my evil plan.”

“I wouldn’t say it was evil.”

“No?”

“Sinful, maybe. Sexy, even,” you joke with a lopsided grin. “But no, not evil.”

“Is that so?” he lilts as he rises on his elbow to prop his cheek on his fist.

You shake your head and roll onto your back. Your eyes flit to the spotted ceiling. A smirk blossoms on your lips. “I feel like evil would imply that it was hurtful in some way. And that thing you did in the shower felt way too good to be evil.”

“What thing?” the boy wonders with pinched-together brows.

You shoot him a look. “You know…” you hum vaguely, expectantly.

“No. I don’t, actually,” Eddie laughs, mostly at himself. “I’m kinda dumb, in case you forgot.”

“You’re not dumb, Eds.”

“Stop being sweet. You’re deflecting.”

You concede with a small huff. “That… That thing. With your mouth. When you pressed me against the wall and— please, don’t make me describe it, Eddie,” you ramble, then cut yourself off to whine.

He meets your grimace with a boyish grin. “I don’t know. I kinda like hearing you talk about it.”

“I’ll die,” you deadpan.

“You’re so dramatic.”

His words are harsh, but his pink smile is kind. He kisses you with it after — a smacking peck to the corner of your mouth that migrates rather quickly. He sprinkles his lips along your jaw and chin and neck.

That’s where he lingers.

Eddie finds your pulse point and goes a half-inch higher, just like he did while he was fucking you against the shower wall. You nearly came the first time he kissed you there.

He sucks at the delicate skin until he leaves another faint mark. The feeling of his tongue and teeth on your newfound sweet spot makes your toes curl. It has you moaning out loud before you mean to.

His lips audibly smack when he pulls away.

“That thing?” he wonders, smiling down at you like he already knows the answer.

Your thighs clench together. Your bones are made of mush. “That thing,” you repeat in the affirmative.

“Well, if we’re sharing secrets…” Eddie singsongs, then leans in all close like he’s about to spill the latest gossip. His fingers spread out along your bare waist, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I really liked it when you got all mean.”

You hadn’t thought much of it, then — when Eddie edged you on the counter with his fingers and laughed when you writhed.

You didn’t even let him make it up to you after, just sucked him off and told him he wasn’t allowed to touch you. “Don’t cum ’til I tell you to, understand?” you’d said. “Or I’m gonna get myself off, and you’re gonna watch.”

He was a good boy for you, though, and you let him fuck you in the shower.

Your nose scrunches in muted embarrassment. “I wasn’t being that mean, was I?”

“No. I mean, you could certainly get meaner…” Eddie assures with a shake of his head, then grins as his fingers crawl up your ribcage. You fight back a shiver. “Which I think could be preferable from time to time.”

“So, you want me to be more… dominant?”

He shrugs a pale, freckled shoulder. “Yeah. Sometimes. I like watching you get all dumb for me, don’t get me wrong, but every time you get a little mean, I almost cum in my pants.”

The blatant confession makes you go slightly stupid. You just nod at him, lazy and unblinking. “Yeah. I can do that. You know, if that’s what you want.”

“I do want,” Eddie hums, matching your sloppy head shake. His nicotine-coated breath fans across your cheek. “Very, very much.”

“But not all the time, though, right?”

“No. Not all the time. Just… sometimes— when the moment’s right or whatever.”

“Sure…”

Eddie’s grin broadens when you trail off. A faraway look glazes over your eye. His brows raise expectantly. “What’s that look for?”

You blink rapidly as you descend from the clouds. Shaking your head, you dismiss him. “Nothing. Nothing— I just… I did kinda like not letting you come right away.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Eddie concurs, suddenly breathless.

Your gaze flits to his, mousy and twinkling. Your hands fidget above the covers. “And I kinda wanna try letting you cum and maybe… not stopping…”

Eddie’s eyes go wide. His mouth opens to respond, but he forgets how to speak. He barely remembers to breathe.

“Is that… Is that weird?” you ask, forcing a laugh at his unusual silence.

“No!” he blurts, sounding much louder in the honeyed quiet of his bedroom. “No, that’s… That’s really hot, actually. Like, really hot.”

He zones out just like you had. The imagery of it all makes his stomach whirl. He’s done it to you a number of times — brought you to the edge and kept on pushing you over until you pushed him away. But he’d never thought about ever doing it to himself till now.

Actually, there’s quite a lot of things he’s done to you that he might enjoy himself if he thinks about it.

The thought alone opens a world of possibility in his wild, wild head.

“Can I tell you about something I was thinking about the other day?” he wonders suddenly.

Though slightly startled by the blurted question, you nod. “Of course.”

His gaze flits away from yours. His hand fidgets at your waist, fingers softly scratching at your burning skin. “You know my handcuffs? The ones I clip on my jeans sometimes?”

Again, you nod.

“Well, I— I have the keys, you know? So it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if we— you know— if we used them…”

“On me?” you press, brows pinched in distant concern.

Eddie shakes his head immediately. “No. I know you don’t like that.”

“So… on you?”

“Yeah. Maybe. If you want,” the boy mumbles, suddenly shy in a way you’ve only seen a handful of times — including earlier, when he was begging to cum in your mouth. “I just think it could be cool, you know? Like, you could tie me up and just… use me. If you want,” he repeats.

“Use you?” you repeat with a soft laugh.

He shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, I don’t— I don’t really care about getting off as much as I care about you getting off, you know? I just… wanna take care of you. Want you to take what you want.”

You open your mouth to respond only to find that all words have lost meaning. Your brain is a jumbled mess of alphabet soup. So you just nod, dumb at the very thought.

Eddie’s hand rises from the covers. His palm settles warm at your jaw. His fingers smell faintly of sex as his calloused thumb smooths across your chapped lips. “You could, like, rub yourself on my cock. Get yourself off on top of me,” he murmurs lowly to you, a quiet and crooked grin pulling at his mouth. “Wouldn’t that be metal?”

“Yeah…” you answer with a sigh, getting lost in the daydream right along with him. “Wouldn’t put you inside me at first, either. Not until you’re begging for it.”

His smile widens. “Exactly.”

“Then I’ll ride you until you make me cum.”

Eddie nods, egging you on. He tucks his face into your neck, if only to conceal how ardently he’s blushing. He hides his pink cheeks between your jaw and shoulder and kisses you where he knows it’ll drive you crazy.

“Mhmm?” he urges, muffled.

You sigh a faint moan. Your fingers curl in his wild hair. You press your lips to his temple and continue. “And I’ll let you come, too. Eventually… But I won’t stop.”

“Fuck,” he groans into your pulse.

“Not until you’ve filled me up three times—”

“Oh, fuck…”

You tug at his hair with a soft, stern touch you think you could learn to master for him. His lips click faintly when he parts from you. He blinks down at you with glassy chocolate eyes.

“Something like that?” you wonder, feigning innocence with a sweet-sounding lilt.

Eddie nods, sloppy and stupid. He stammers. “Yeah… Yeah. Some—Something like that.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things smut #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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meowmeowriley · 2 months

Text

@sergeantwoods Sorry for the long wait, but here's the mer!AU

Think I'll call it Fish Out of the Sea

Ghost x Soap, blacktip reef shark mer!Soap, human Ghost, fluff, getting together (kinda)

Ficlet after the cut 😘

"No."

John sighed, he didn't seem surprised by Shepherd's hard rejection, but he kept trying. Simon had to give props to the fishing boat Captain. "You have the best mer rehabilitation facility in the country. It'd be a shame not to use it."

"You said you had a mermaid. That's not a fucking mermaid, John."

"I said I had an injured mer." He repeated himself from their earlier conversation.

"I'm not taking that thing into my facility."

"He needs help-"

"He's hideous, and aggressive." Shepherd barked. "That thing keeps lashing out, it'll scare patrons, attack my staff, and if that *thing* touches my mermaids, tries to mate with them, I'll have it put down."

"Mers are actually matriarchal, sir." The mer expert, Kyle, finally spoke up. "I've never worked with a shark mer before, but I do know he won't mess with Kate or Rosa, because they won't want him. Since they're together."

"Kyle. For the last time, the mermaids aren't lesbians. They're just fish." Shepherd was one of those who thought of mers as lesser than humans. Obviously.

Simon was standing near the door. No one had noticed him sneak in, but when he'd overheard that the mer was a shark variant, he'd needed to see it. Now, seeing the poor thing huddled in the corner of it's transport tank, curled in on itself, he felt so bad for it. He watched, any time someone went near it it flared out it's dorsal and pectoral fins. It would gnash it's teeth and charge the glass. All signs of aggression in a shark but... as soon as it finished its display it was right back to the furthest corner from the humans. It kept peeking at them over it's own shoulder when it thought they weren't looking. He quietly crept closer.

He took in it's markings, gray on it's back, white on its belly, black tips to it's fins. Claspers on its pelvic fins. A male blacktip reef shark then. His inferior end was all shark, something Simon was very familiar with, as he took care of all of the sharks here at the aquarium, several of them blacktips. His superior end, or top half, he supposed a visitor would (incorrectly) consider it, was new and interesting to him. Though he was vaguely humanoid, his skin was all two tones white and gray, like his tail. He had a wedge shaped snout in place of a human nose, a wider mouth with jagged teeth. Slitted eyes, and a black tipped fin atop his head that reminded Simon of a mohawk. Webbed gray and white hands with black claws rubbed up and down it's own arms in a self soothing gesture. One forearm had an odd angle to it, probably the injury that landed him here.

He retreated from the tank quietly before speaking, interrupting the squabbling of the other men. "He looks like a reef shark to me." Everyone else jumped. "Blacktip reef sharks aren't aggressive. Sure they can get a little iffy during feeding, but they're more curious than anything."

"He's been charging the glass, Ghost." Simon managed to suppress his eye roll at Shepherd's nickname for him. They all called him that here. "Fuck you mean 'not aggressive', you don't know mers."

"No, but I know sharks. He's injured, and defensive. You ever think he doesn't like us because it was something shaped like us that broke his arm?" John winced, he obviously felt bad about it. Not like he could've know he'd caught the mer in his net, but it was nice to see some accountability from a fisherman for once.

"Well we can't communicate with him, so he'll stay scared and defensive." If Simon didn't love the sharks, he would've left this place a long time ago because Shepherd was an absolutely abrasive cunt.

"Kate and Rosa can. And their English is excellent." Kyle spoke up again. "We have them pass on the message of our intentions, and Ghost and I tag team his rehabilitation." Of course he uses the dumb nickname too. "It's the perfect plan! And an incredible opportunity to be one of two aquariums to actually work with a shark mer. The novelty of something so rare will bring in patrons." Kyle was really leaning into Shepherd's true interests here, bringing up money.

Shepherd was quiet for a moment and then, "If anything happens, you're both fired." He then stormed out of the room.

"Thanks, Gaz."

"Of course, Cap."

Now the three of them had to get the shark mer into an appropriate tank.

***

They had initially tried to put him in with the other mers, but he'd seen the sharks in the tank across the hall and told Kate he wanted to be with his own kind. That would make Simon's job easier, anyway. Kate had explained that they needed to put a cast on his arm, and Rosa had wrestled it onto him, since the humans couldn't get too close. They decided to name him John, after Captain Price, calling him Johnny affectionately. Gaz explained to Ghost that part of rehabbing Johnny would be gaining his trust, teach him to communicate. To release him without a way to communicate could lead to him attacking humans and being a problem down the road.

Simon had a plan: ignore him. He was a reef shark, his own curiosity would get him to open up. It took a week.

Simon would feed his sharks from a catwalk above their tank, for safety reasons, dropping their food in in the mornings before they opened their doors. No need to scare any children. For the first week, any time he passed by, Johnny would posture aggressively and gnash his teeth, before snatching up his food and swimming off. When Ghost would gear up and go in the water for his evening shows, Johnny stayed far away. At night, Gaz and his mers would move over and Ghost would mostly just observe as the girls tried to teach Johnny how to speak, and he petulantly ignored them, with a little pout on his face as he refused to even make eye contact with them. It was cute.

The first time he tried to speak was also the first time Simon saw him raise his head above the surface. He seemed frantic. "HAAAH!" He startled a bit at what was most likely the first time he ever used his lungs to breath air. "HAAAAH! AH! YAAH!" he was waving with his good arm. Stretching it out towards the platform between his tank and that of the other mers, thrashing his tail with his fins tucked in. Very distressed. Simon went to check, to see what could possibly be bothering him so much, when he found their elusive fourth mer. Simon had only seen Gary once. Gaz called him Roach, because he hid in the tiniest cracks in the reef in their enclosure, why on earth the isopod mer was on the platform, and not in the water, was beyond him, but he couldn't let the poor thing suffer. He had several of his little legs caught in a grate. Simon spent some time disentangle him. He tossed the infant sized mer into the nearest tank, which happened to be the shark tank, with Johnny. The larger mer immediately dove to catch him. He stroked Roach's antennae back like one would the hair of a small child, a soothing motion. Clearly not as much of a loner as he pretended to be. From then on the little isopod mer could be found clinging to Johnny's sides or fins with his many little periopods more often than not. After that, it seemed that Gary encouraged Johnny's more curious side. The mer's language was mostly outside of the human range of hearing, but Simon occasionally caught clicks, whistles or hums shared between the two.

Simon had left a bucket with soap close to the edge once, the two mers were clearly curious about it, but he didn't think anything would come of it. Which is why it was such a surprise when Johnny stuck a webbed hand in and scooped some out, popping it immediately into his mouth. Simon knew it wasn't enough to harm him, which is why he couldn't help but laugh at the poor creatures misfortune as it sputtered and writhed, making bubbles. While laughing he let his guard down, and was surprised when something struck him, knocking him off the catwalk and into the tank. He opened his eyes and looked around, seeing only Roach, floating downward, listing side to side, tiny head in his tiny hands. He surfaced to see Johnny. "Did you just throw him at me?!" Johnny sunk down so only his eyes and cranial fin were above the water. The little shit. "Not cool, Soap!" He forced his palm out towards the mer, sending a spray of water its way. That seemed to really break down the mer's walls.

Johnny started approaching while Simon would try and clean the tank. At first, darting away if Simon caught sight of him. Eventually however, he would get closer and simply observe. He'd watch Simon work at cleaning the glass or vacuuming the sand at the bottom. It was fun to see shark behavior and mer behavior collide. If Simon sat something down, Johnny would pick it up, and without a doubt if he could get it in his hands, it would end up in his mouth.

There was a small crowd, a child's birthday party had been held over by Gaz's mer tank, the girls were always a hit with the kids, and the little show they put on with Gaz was actually pretty funny. They'd harass him as he pretended to try and do his chores. Slapstick comedy was good for all ages.

Simon had his own show with his sharks, but it wasn't for a few more hours. He was actually just trying to clean. Apparently his cleaning sponge had caught Johnny's attention, as the mer had swam up and was watching him intently. He kept inching forward, eventually crowding Simon against the glass while reaching for his sponge. "Oi!" He said into his respirator, not that anyone could hear him. He shoved Johnny away and kept trying to cleaning, but the persistent bastard just kept coming back. He could vaguely see the crowd observing them through the glass. They were probably laughing. When he'd had enough, he got an idea. He turned when Johnny got close again and placed one hand on his dorsal fin and the other on the underside of his snout. He began to rub at the sensitive underside of the mer's snout, and just like his sharks, the mer entered a state of tonic immobility. He repositioned Johnny, nose down tail to the surface, Johnny's arms hung limply down past his head. Simon quickly withdrew his hands and watched as the mer continued to float for a bit, before blinking vigorously. He shook his head before righting himself, and slapped his tail into Simon's chest as he practically fled to his little cave at the other end of the tank. When he surfaced later, Gaz informed him that the kids were raving about how cool the 'shark guys' were.

Simon had to admit that Johnny was growing on him. He looked forward to seeing him each day. Johnny began trying to get Simon to swim with him. He'd grab Simon's arms and try to pull him into the water when he was on land, or he'd push Simon away from the glass and his cleaning supplies, towards the open water. Sometimes Simon would indulge him, and the two of them would make laps around the tank.

Simon realized, when Johnny began posturing towards the sharks and getting territorial about him towards them, that Johnny was attempting to court him. Worse, he couldn't bring himself to try and put an end to the behavior either. Johnny was getting touchy, he'd run his hands along Simon's sides or chest, in much the same way Simon would to per his sharks, but it felt different. He would push Simon until he floated horizontally in the water, then drape himself across the man.

Simon knew he was getting himself into some deep shit, but he couldn't help the small voice in the back of his head that urged him to reach out, to cradle the mer's rubbery cheeks in his hands. He wanted to kiss him. He was fucked.

***

I hope you liked it! Ngl, I really liked this one. If you don't mind, I might expand on this and make it a multi-chapter fic over on AO3? I wanna explore more of society's reaction to mers, specifically interspersed relationships and where this could go. Let me know what you think, and thanks for the idea!

#ive had this one on the brain for a hot minute #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #cod mw2 #fanfic #call of duty #text post #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare #mermaid au #mer!au #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #mer!john soap mactavish #shark mermaid

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avatar-anna · 11 months

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I vaguely remember you saying that prof slips up sometimes and calls Harry “Edward”. Do you have any examples of times when she lets a little Edward through instead of Harry?

It would definitely be early in their relationship, when she's getting used to the idea of him being Harry, not Edward. It's those moments when they're not in the same room and she calls out to him. It kinda just slips out.

"Edward, can you come here, please? I can't reach this."

Harry eventually enters her room with furrowed brows. He's not mad, maybe just a little amused. "You beckoned?"

"Yeah, Edward, can you just grab this off the top shelf, I can't—Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to call you that."

"It's okay. I mean it is technically my name."

"I know. But you're—you're Harry."

At the beginning of the relationship, Professor doesn't really know how to marry the two sides of Harry together. There's Edward, the friend she made in Cambridge who she eventually fell in love with, and then there was Harry, the celebrity. To her, it feels like Edward was hers and only hers, whereas Harry Styles belonged to the rest of the world, and she doesn't really know how or when she would see them as the same person.

"I am just a man who loves you very much," he would say, tipping her chin up with his index finger. "You can call me whatever you want as long as I can be that person forever."

It just takes time. Obviously, she knows he's Harry, and after a month or two, she doesn't really slip up anymore. Though, she'll revert back whenever Professor is particularly peeved at him.

"I can't believe you spoiled it!"

"What are you talking about?"

"The movie! You just blurted out a huge plot twist like it was nothing!"

"Y/n, how do you not know that Darth Vader is Luke's father? Even people who haven't seen Star Wars know that."

"Whatever, Edward."

That's when Harry knows he's begun to dig himself a hole. Y/n is a fairly patient person, but when she calls him Edward, he knows he's treading dangerous waters.

The name "Edward" also appears casually. Harry likes to write letters while he's on tour because he knows there's a better chance of her checking her mailbox than her inbox sometimes, and he knows she appreciates the intimacy of a handwritten letter. When he writes to her, he signs his name H.E.S. or writes his full name, just because. Sometimes Y/n addresses her letters to "Edward," with the explanation that there was a probability (and she knows the exact percentage of that probability) that someone could find and read it, so she uses it like an alias.

"I think you enjoy being secretive," he tells her over the phone after receiving a letter addressed to Edward.

"What do you mean? I'm just being discreet."

"Yeah, but it's fun being discreet. Sneaking around and all that."

In one of his letters, he makes a dirty joke/mentions something about their sex life, and when the Professor reads it, she immediately picks up the phone and just says, "Edward!" when he finally picks up.

#harry styles #harry styles x professor y/n #harry styles x professor yn #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x oc #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n

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whxre-bxby · 8 months

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Could you do a recoms x recom!reader where all the guys suddenly go into heat (?) at the same time and reader is like 'oh shit' and tries to run but they catch and Fuck her?

Kinda like cursed by blue but then with reversed roles lol

Yes my lady, here it is

F. Recom Y/N x Recom Lyle, Mansk, Prager, Lopez, Ja

"Get It Together"

Masterlist

Summary: read the ask :)

Warnings: smut, tiny bit of angst and fluff, cursing, non-con, breeding kink, mating, heat cycle, unprotected sex, oral sex, penetration

Word Count: 4085

A/N: sorry that the uploads are slower, I'm busy and losing motivation just a little. I've also revived my Harry Potter obsession

Today felt weird. Weirder than usual. Waking up in an Avatar is already odd enough, but something seemed even more different today. The team seemed different.

Quaritch is desperate for you all to help him successfully find and kill Sully, so you’re back in the forest again. The Deja Blu squad seems to be spending more time outside than anywhere else. But you’re not complaining. To you, the world of Pandora is beautiful. You’re not as afraid of it as before. Probably because you’re no longer human. But that’s your secret. You’re scared to find out what would happen to you if anyone found out you like this planet and its nature.

The Colonel split the squad into two groups again. He led his team while Lyle led yours. Lyle was ranking second highest out of all of you, so he was put in charge. He’s leading the way through the large leaves and past the hundreds and thousands of trees. Behind him, Mansk is following. You’re after him. Trailing slightly behind you is Lopez along with Prager and Ja is watching the back.

You were pleased with this group because you all got along well. But today is different. No one is talking. You’ve tried to initiate a conversation multiple times but they either don’t listen or just nod and hum in response. Even Lyle has his mouth shut today. Not a soul seems to be in a good mood, so you decide not to push it. There’s no need to start an unnecessary fight.

“You always wear that?” someone says behind you, suddenly breaking the long-lasting silence.

You recognise Lopez’s voice and when you turn around you see that he is looking at your lower half.

“The shorts?” you ask while continuing to walk. He glances up for a split second before fixating his gaze on your shorts once more. His head nods.

“No. It’s just warmer today.” you answer him, not thinking anything of his question. Maybe he didn’t even know the RDA provided shorts.

‘Fuckin’ right it’s warmer.’ Lopez thinks, wiping his hand across his forehead. It was warm but the temperatures here never reached the high of making their Avatar’s sweat. He doesn’t know what’s going on with him and why his body temperature seems to be through the roof, but he notices he isn’t the only one. Lopez had vaguely scanned the others and everyone seemed to be struggling. Everyone except for you. And he doubted it was because you’re wearing shorts.

As you keep walking, you can feel Lopez’s stare on your body. It never leaves and when you look over your shoulder, he doesn’t seem to notice or bother to hide it.

“Can you not?” you ask, making him suddenly lock eyes with you again. He looks confused. “I can feel you looking.”

Lopez internally curses himself for being so obvious. He didn’t mean to, but his judgment is not trustworthy today. His ears occasionally ring and his mind seems to go blank. Especially when he looks at you.

Prager lightly punches his shoulder, seeming to tell him off through actions.

“What’s he doin’?” Lyle asks, calling out his words from the front. You open your mouth to reply but Lopez quickly intervenes.

“Nothin’.” he says, making Lyle turn around and cock an eyebrow.

His words make your ears tip back. He never acted like this.

“Walk in front of me then.” you say, stopping so that he can overtake you.

Lopez shakes his head, taking your arm and pulling you along.

“So that Prager can get a look? No way.” he scoffs and Prager glares at him.

“The fuck does that mean?” you ask, pulling your arm from his.

Mansk had turned around and saw how Lopez held you. It pissed him off too.

“Keep walkin’.” Lopez says, avoiding eye contact.

“What is up with you, today?” you ask with a small chuckle.

But not even Lopez knows how to answer that. His behaviour is confusing him too.

You shrug it off, continuing to follow Lyle and Mansk. Many minutes go by in silence and you think that things have returned to normal again.

They haven‘t.

In the next few seconds, you feel your tail brush against something. Assuming it‘s a plant, you don‘t bother checking. But then it happens again. And again.

Finally, you turn your head and see Lopez much closer than expected. It gives you a little fright.

“Shit-“ you gasp, inhaling deeply to calm down. “Lopez, what are you-“

“Look at her tail.” He exclaims, interrupting you and taking your tail into his hand. Ja walks up next to him, looking down at it.

One of his hands is holding its middle while his free one caresses the tip of your tail, examining the soft hair coming out. You’ve also noticed that yours was longer. And your stripes continued all the way down. Everyone else had their tail partly shaved.

“Check out the stripes.” Ja chuckles, watching the odd pattern of so-called stripes spiral up your tail until their eyes reach its base. The rest is covered in clothes.

“Yours are different from ours.” Lopez murmurs and you stop walking, trying to snatch your tail away but they won't let you. Both of them are still looking at where your tail ends and you don’t understand why they’re so fascinated by it.

“What’s it look like?” He asks, looking up at you with a shit-eating grin. Your eyes go wide at his bold question and you frown.

“Doesn’t concern you.” You snarl. What’s under your clothes is none of his business.

“Hey!” Lyle calls from the front. He and Mansk both turned around, watching the interaction before Lyle felt like he needed to step in. “Let ‘er be.”

Lopez meets his eye, staring him down for a few extra seconds before scoffing and letting go of you. Once free, you’re being touched again. Lyle is guiding you by your shoulders to the front, not wanting Lopez around you anymore.

You just go with it, assuming he has some kind of plan. At the end of the day, you trust Lyle with your life, so you don’t question his decisions.

While walking away, you feel Lopez’s and Ja’s fierce eyes on you. Behind them you can hear Prager panting and nothing seems to make sense anymore.

You keep walking and you hear Lyle faintly call them both insulting names under his breath before he stretches his arm around you. He starts by throwing it over your shoulder and your walking pace stutters. Mansk is keeping a close eye on what's happening, as is everyone behind you. He doesn’t want Lyle crossing the line either.

But your presence and the close physical contact have Lyle under a sort of spell. It makes him crave more from you and within minutes, his arm is around your waist and he’s holding you to his side. You’re body tenses and you stop walking. Everything is so confusing you can’t even think straight.

Lyle looks back at you and your concerned eyes before Mansk grabs his arm and removes it from your body.

“What are you doin’?” Lyle asks him, wanting to snake it around your waist again but you push it away.

“No, what are you doing? All of you!” You shout, looking around. You’re about to exclude Mansk from the lecture you plan on giving them but you notice his pupils dilate and target lock on you. It makes you forget what you were about to say. Luckily you recover quickly.

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you, but you need to sort it out right now so that we can focus on this mission!” You shout, folding your arms in front of your chest and glaring at all of them.

There’s a few seconds of silence. As if they need extra time to let your words sink in.

“All right.” Lyle growls. His voice is lower than ever. You want to nod and thank him for his agreement but the look in his eye tells you that you’re not both thinking of the same thing.

You thought that maybe they all got in a fight and didn‘t want to mention it around you. But the dark hunger in his expression suddenly makes you feel like you need to escape.

You don’t know why you feel the need to run when a part of you longs to be around them.

Lyle is walking back up to you and his arm stretches out to grab a hold of you once more but Mansk once again intervenes. It seems as though his last functioning cell of common sense told him to help you. But right after he pushes Lyle’s arm away, he’s just as lust-blinded as the rest of them are. You see it in him now too.

Which is why this time, you don’t hesitate to run. Your feet take off in the opposite direction and you’re sprinting through the forest.

You hear Lyle growl at Mansk before your ears pick up the sound of hammering footsteps behind you. They seem to be moving faster than yours which surprises you because a human’s survival instinct is the strongest.

However, you’re not human anymore and neither are they. It seems as though your new bodies have a stronger instinct than just survival.

Mating.

You’re fast, but unfortunately not fast enough. All weapons and tools have been dropped to chase you. They have to catch you by hand and force. The way nature tells them to. For once, they must give in to what their body craves and forget their human morals.

But their rut doesn’t just affect them. Being around them, hearing them, smelling them, seeing them, and feeling them kickstarts hormones in your own body. Ones you were suppressing until you started running. Running and chasing are apparently common during heat-cycles so the instinct that told you to run is also the one that betrayed your mind and gave all power to your body and its needs.

Lyle caught your arm, making you stumble and slow down. With his next step, he managed to wrap an arm around your middle and lift you off the ground but the sheer force of the turn had you both falling into the grass.

You shriek as he spins you both around once before you hit the ground first with him falling on top of you. Immediately, you struggle beneath his weight, trying to crawl out from underneath him but you can’t move him.

Suddenly, you felt like it wasn’t Lyle who was holding you down. You know it is, but he’s never growled and acted like this. It feels so foreign to you but then again, you feel your body doing things you would never do.

Almost instantly his large hands start tugging your clothes off of you but for whatever reason, you lean against his touch.

You’re still trying to hold on to your common sense, desperately attempting to not give in to his touch whereas Lyle is a lost cause.

Your last spark of hope forces you to kick Lyle’s middle but he is unfazed.

“Sorry- can’t help it.” he breathes out, pulling your shorts down your legs. Well, there you have it. You’re done for. Might as well enjoy it then.

The others have already caught up with both Lyle and you. Ja wanted to get closer but Lyle snarled at him, making him back off. You guess that since he has the highest rank in this team, he wants to go first.

Lyle’s body feels strange to him and foreign. It’s overheating as well and the only answer to help him feel normal again is in front of him. His large hand comes up to knead the flesh of your ass before he’s hastily opening his belt and clawing at his pants.

You know what to expect at this point. It’s inevitable really. There’s five of them and one of you. You can’t escape even if you manage to push Lyle off. And quite frankly, the longer you inhale his musky scent and feel him on you, the less you want to leave. It irritates you how easily your body is swayed by them but you can’t help it either.

Lyle grabs the side of your underwear, hooking his fingers underneath it and literally tearing the fabric off your body. If you were in your right mind right now, you would have felt exposed. But no, you don’t even feel the need to hide from their eyes. In fact, their presence seems to make you more aroused.

Suddenly ripping you from your thoughts is the feeling of Lyle pressing something right up against your entrance. Feeling its form, you straight away know what it is and without any hesitation, Lyle starts to push it inside you. He hisses as your walls clamp down on him, not seeming to be used to this intrusion. But it doesn’t stop him. The man is desperate for you and desperate for release.

Within seconds he has bottomed out, holding himself inside you for an extra few moments to contain himself. But it’s no use. The second he starts to move, completely loses himself and his motions become primal.

Lyle doesn’t start off slowly either. He’s already harshly fucking himself into you while his fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips. You spread your arms slightly past shoulder distance to steady yourself while your hips push back against him.

Everything suddenly feels sensitive and all his touches spark more excitement in you. Which is why Lyle knows he won’t last long. You feel too good and it’s been too long.

“Fuck- so good,” he groans, wrapping his hand around the base of your tail to pull you back against him. Small whines and whimpers leave your lips whenever it feels like he is pushing the air from your lungs.

“M’ gonna fill you up,” he grunts, speeding up his thrusts. You weren’t expecting any of this to last long, but you know that just because he’ll be done soon doesn’t mean you will. The other four men around you look even more interested in you than before. There is no way you’re leaving without having to go through each of them first.

“Gonna make this pussy mine.” he growls, not stopping his rough thrusts until his hips stutter and you feel him spurt his cum inside you. You still your small rocking movements, taking all of him into you. His large hands are holding onto your waist while Lyle gathers himself. His problem seems to be cured for now. But the others are still very bothered by it, so the second Lyle pulls out, Mansk takes his place. He pushes Lopez to the side because he can’t wait any longer.

Mansk falls to his knees behind you, immediately pushing your tail to the side to see your throbbing cunt. God, what a luring sight it is. Especially with Lyle’s cum slowly dribbling out. It just makes Mansk want to wash it out and replace it with his own.

To your surprise, Lopez settles himself in front of you. You can hear Ja complaining but Lopez doesn’t care. Sure, he would much rather be where Mansk is but right now he’ll take whatever he can get. His skin is glistening in sweat and he just needs to feel you on him in any way possible.

Mansk’s pants are gone faster than Lyle’s and he doesn’t even need to line himself up with your entrance to guide himself in. He’s so hard he just bucks his hips forward blindly while pressing his chest against your back. He feels his dick sink into you on his third attempt and it has him melting against you. Mansk is and has been desperate for this kind of relief for so long. The fact that it’s you he’s getting makes this so much better for him.

Lopez has managed to free his aching erection from its restraints as well and is now panting while watching you stare at him. He can feel your hot breath fan against his bare skin and it causes his eyes to flutter closed. He never thought he could get this close to you.

Mansk moves behind you, making your body jolt forward. Your cheek brushes against Lopez’s dick and you give up on staring. The sight has your mouth salivating. Not only are they all so big, but fuck he looks so needy.

You turn your head, opening your mouth and licking up his shaft. He groans and you notice the goosebumps erupt on his skin. Lopez is so hard it hurts so he attaches his hand to the back of your head, hoping to encourage you to finally help him out. You obey his silent pleas and open your mouth wider to welcome his tip. His breath gets caught in his throat and he doesn’t exhale until you’ve swallowed down almost all of him.

“Fuck, such a good girl,” he purrs his praise, gently rubbing your cheek before holding the base of your queue to help guide you along his dick.

Mansk’s thrusts are already getting sloppy so you arch your back to give yourself to him, making it easier for him to reenter you.

Then you focus on the heavily breathing man in front of you and decide to finally focus on him. You gulp around him, feeling his tip in the middle of your throat. Having something stuffed so far down your mouth is not a pleasant feeling, but seeing how it drives Lopez wild just gives you the equal pleasure he is receiving.

You don’t need to move your head, he’s already pulling his hips back and slowly pushing them forward again for you. All you have to do is not choke and not let him feel your teeth. This gets twice as difficult when you have fangs but so far you’re succeeding.

You flatten your tongue out and occasionally swirl it around him when he draws back.

Both of them have sped up their thrusts and you feel Lopez’s dick twitch inside your mouth which lets you know that he won’t last much longer.

Mansk is now hugging your waist and one of his hands digs into your thigh.

You start to feel your own orgasm slowly build up but with the way they’re feeling, you know you’ll still need more time until you start feeling euphoric.

“Shit, take it.” Mansk growls, biting your shoulder while he humps you from behind, shooting his load into you just like Lyle. But you honestly don’t care about that at the moment. You even doubt whether your Avatar is fertile.

Mansk is regaining his breath above you when Lopez hisses and throws his head back. His hips reflexively buck forwards and he covers your tongue in his cum, making it flow down your throat. You lick him clean after swallowing everything he gave you before gently pulling away.

He smiles down at you, lightly tapping your cheek in praise before getting up.

Mansk carefully pulls out, running his hand over your smooth back and humming appreciate before Prager is urging him to move. He listens. You display yourself for Prager byopening your legs and lifting your tail but he seems to have other ideas. The sight makes his stomach twist in excitement but he still turns you onto your back. You’re looking up at him and he flashes you a smirk before Ja interrupts your moment.

“Seriously, what about me?” he asks, not seeming happy with the sudden position change.

Prager’s ears flatten back against the sides of his head and he frowns at Ja.

“Work it out.” he growls. Then his hands find your knees and he opens your legs for him. He wants to properly see you, not just use you.

Ja huffs in annoyance before lifting your upper body and resting your back on his lap. Prager runs his fingers over your entrance, parting your lips before pushing some cum back inside you. His motions make you shiver and you roll your hips forward while Ja open his pants just enough to relieve himself.

Your body starts reacting to Prager's touch and you realise he’s helping you reach your high too. But since he’s having a hard time containing himself, he removes his fingers from inside of you and replaces them with his length. Suddenly, it feels so good. You’ve gotten used to the intrusion now and it’s becoming pleasurable.

You turn your head to the side, noticing Ja trying to win your attention over. His dick is next to your face and at this point, you’re too tired and too unbothered to question anything. You just do. They’ve already seen all of you, you have nothing to hide anymore.

You open your mouth for him just like you did for Lopez but right before you want to wrap your lips around him, a gasp leaves you. Prager has started moving inside you and the new angle and change of position have you enjoying all of it.

Quickly, you fill your mouth with Ja’s length to prevent moans from slipping out. Those are still something that makes you often feel embarrassed. You know it’s stupid because usually, you want to be able to hear how you’re pleasing someone. But then again, you happen to be in a forest full of creatures that may not welcome you. So you don’t want to be screaming and crying on his cock (you do, but you won’t).

Your head gets all fuzzy with how good Prager is treating your body. You feel so stimulated that whimpers and moans do leave your body. However, they’re muffled through Ja but the vibrations of it drive him wild.

He’s been touching himself while watching you with Mansk and Lopez, so he feels like he will spill any second now.

Prager is just diving into you at this point. His hand comes up to apply gentle pressure to your clit while his other lifts one of your legs onto his shoulders. Everything is good right now. You have no worries.

“You gonna cum?” he asks, knowing you can’t reply with words. You frantically shake your head, slowly arching your back off the ground in preparation for your orgasm.

He grins and his pace never falters.

Behind you, Ja is a groaning mess. He’s just watching you struggle to angle your head for him but he can’t help you with that. He’s so close, you just need to continue for a few more seconds. You do and in moments following you hollowing your cheeks for him, his tail trembles as he cums. Some of it spills out onto your lips but you don’t mind. You just need cum yourself.

Prager doesn’t stop, in fact he just slightly increases his touch on your clit and you cry out once before your legs tremble and your orgasm floods your senses. Feeling you clench down around him has Prager in pure bliss and he follows almost straight after you.

What an odd scene this is. You hadn’t expected your day to go like this.

Lyle comes to your aid while the two soldiers redress themselves.

“You alright?” he asks but he can’t hold back the cheeky grin on his face.

“Yeah-” you breathe out. “I’m just so done.”

He chuckles, handing you your shorts and helping you put them on.

“You fuckers, it’ll stain the cloth.” you mumble, knowing all the cum will just leak out of you for the rest of the day.

“Don’t worry, you can get a refill later.” Lopez smirks as Lyle helps you to your feet and you punch Lopez’s shoulder.

A loud sigh leaves your lips.

“I can’t even walk back now.” you whine in frustration.

“I’ll carry you then.” Lyle offers with a grin and Mansk smirks.

“No, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” you say, realising you’re contradicting yourself.

Mansk raises an eyebrow at you and you wipe your hand over your face.

“I just like to complain.” you mumble, starting to slowly walk ahead. Your first few steps are wobbly, but you manage because Mansk and Prager walk next to you, letting you use them for support. Lyle leads the way again.

He’s calling off the mission for the day. We just have to come up with some excuse as to what happened.

Tag List: @ken-dala @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @numarusworld @number1gal @ikranwings @jatwow

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thebigsl33p · 3 months

Text

Last Words of A Shooting Star (Part One)

A/N: this is the longest fic I've ever written, and this is only part one. A lot of love has gone into this, I'm super excited to share it! If there any mistakes or stuff please let me know. Uh, Aleksander's kinda OOC bcs it's early days and I'm not traumatising him yet but I am gonna make everyone so miserable in Part Two, I promise, and then he'll become a mardy bastard. Masterlist will be up with the second part, and my main will be updated.

Main Masterlist

people I thought might appreciate being tagged: (If not, sorry!!!):

@augustwithquills @myanmy @noortsshift @archangelslollipop @vaguekayla @budugu @inlovewithfictionalmen444 @weallhaveadestiny @dreamlandcreations @bookloverfilmoholic @lost-tothe-centuries

Warnings: Violence - murder, not too graphic, I don't think. I think that's all, if not please let me know. tbf, canon level I think but maybe I'm delusional

Word Count: 8260

Fic Playlist:

Aleksander has always had a fascination with the night sky. He can’t help it. It’s the darkness, he thinks, it runs in his blood and makes up his flesh, how couldn’t he be absolutely enamoured with it?

Maybe it’s because it was the only constant.

So much of his childhood, his years as a teenager and as a young adult were spent travelling, creating new identities, learning new landscapes, new faces, new names, new buildings, all of which would disappear and be replaced every two weeks. And sure, the daytime was nice with the sun and all. But it wasn’t as peaceful, didn’t bring him that same tranquillity as when he would lay down in a field, gaze up and try to name all the constellations, find new shapes and make up new stories.

Perhaps it all changed due to the incident at the Grisha camp. He had loved sunlight, the dark had scared him. But now, something was different - that air of peace was replaced by a penchant for the tenebrosity that the night brought with it, and a love for the small lights which decorated the dusk.

No matter where he went, whether he was North, East, South, or West, the night-sky was the same. Always that deep monumental blue speckled with little dots - little lights, little moons, little stories - which people like him called Stars. There was nothing quite like laying in a field, feeling the cool summer breeze or the biting winter gusts and knowing that you were so small, so insignificant compared to everything that burned up in the cosmos.

He was young then. Young and naive. And it was before her.

Looking back on it, Aleksander should’ve known better. Hadn’t the incident at the Grisha Camp taught him that? Wasn’t it what his mother drilled into him constantly? Trust no one. Never show your abilities. Touch no one. He was, politely put, a fool.

He was a young man when his life changed, for the better and for the worse. It’s hard to remember exactly, but he believes he was around nineteen, and he remembers it was a hot summer’s evening. The day had been spent working. He couldn’t have known then, but that ‘work’ was the beginnings of The Little Palace. But back then, it was him being - as his mother would put it - foolish, and helping other Grisha travel across Ravka. They were hard to find, and even harder to trust, but gradually, slowly yet surely, he was building a good network.

But during the nights, just for a little while he could let that go. He could lay in the tall grass, head tipped towards the dark vast sky and he could stare up at the stars and pretend he was normal, that shadows weren’t absentmindedly curling around his fingers.

For some reason he struggles to remember memories before that time. They’re blurry and vague, little snippets and days that he’s lost with his extended age. But that particular night, he remembers it vividly - his long hair brushing his cheek in the wind, the hard dirt under his head, the hum of nature and bugs, the bustle of a town not so far away carried on the wind, and the stars. They were the brightest he’d ever seen them, almost restless, buzzing in their eternal placeholders. Something, he could feel, was wrong.

The image of the star falling to Earth is eternally seared into his memory.

It appeared faster than he could comprehend - one second it wasn’t there, and then one second it was. He sits up on his elbows, completely transfixed and stunned by, what he at first presumes, is a shooting star. But gradually, he realises it’s getting bigger, faster… closer.

This burning bright ball of cream yellow light, tumbling through time and space and existence, tumbling towards him. Sitting there in the field, stunned by the sight, he’s sure he can hear it fizzling and crackling, knows it’s completely impossible from this distance, but he’s certain of it. Something tugs in his chest, somewhere between unbridled intrigue and panic, his mother’s words of warning echoing in his head. The intrigue wins, it’s an easy internal battle of common sense and childlike wonder which he thought he had long abandoned.

Aleksander scrambles to his feet, accidentally getting dirt on his palms and his trousers but he barely notices, head still tilted to the sky and his breath caught in his throat. He can see the trajectory of the star, where it will land in a section of the forest just a bit off from where he’s camping out. His eyes widen, a small smile, and before he knows it he’s stepping towards the tree-line, his black boots thudding on the ground as his footsteps get quicker and quicker.

To anyone else, the forest might’ve seemed daunting, especially so late at night. But the Shadow Summoner stepped into it without hesitation, the wizened terrain underfoot switching to a softer crunch of twigs and leaves. Once inside, he loses sight of the star, the canopy of the forest shielding it from him, its only indication being the unnatural light it shines through the leaves onto the forest floor, making his journey easier. He dodges twigs, branches, spider-webs, ducking and batting them out of the way quickly, balancing looking at the floor and where he’s going with gazing up at the foliage covered sky for any indication he’s travelling the right way.

He doesn’t know why he’s following after the star. He doesn’t know how he knows it’s a star. It feels more akin to when you’re in a dream, and you just know something is. Something about it compels him, drags him forward and pushes him on, deeper into the forest.

When the star makes impact, he feels it. In fact, Aleksander’s sure the entire world might’ve felt it, the shake in the trees and the ground, the birds disturbed from their midnight peace quickly fleeing their homes at the rattle of the branches and leaves, the dust-like dirt stirring. And it guides him to the star - the cracking noise it made as it hit the ground unmistakably came from a fraction to his left and so, he followed that way.

He knows he’s getting closer when the damage becomes more destructive. It’s no longer just disturbed birds and dirt, it’s entire trees tilted at an angle as if God had pushed a finger into the dirt and tilted them, their roots peeking through the soil. But in the middle of the makeshift clearing it is dark, the disturbed dirt floating and drifting through the air and concealing his surroundings. The ground is severely dented and compacted, forming a large dark crater which Aleksander can barely peek over.

He shuffles from the damaged treeline, his boots creaking on the soil as he tries to catch a glimpse over the edge of the vast crater, but it’s wide and deep, and the edges are loose. He’s careful, his Shadows waiting obediently for his hands to move - for some form of attack or defence. But it never comes.

Instead, as the clouds of dirt clear, the centre of the crater gradually became more visible. The middle was, overall, smooth but it slopes and nicks here and there. He had expected to see a rock, some large grey bland thing which ultimately would’ve made this all less exciting. But what he sees instead has his eyes widening. There, in the middle of the crater, is a young woman. She’s asleep - passed out maybe - her arms loosely stretched outwards, her hair splayed, messy and white. It’s not even like he can say it’s grey, or silver, or blonde. No, her hair is white, paper white, as white as the dress she’s wearing. It fits her well, skims over her body without constricting too much movement. He notices she has no shoes on. It dawns on him that this sleeping woman, this girl, is the Star and his brow furrows softly.

He barely hesitates before he’s sitting on the ledge of the crater and sliding down it, his boots landing on the compacted soil with a thud. In a few strides he’s standing over the sleeping girl, and then in another quick action he crouches down and picks her up, the back of her knees bent over his arm, her waist in his other as he supports her back and her head lolls. He huffs in soft amusement, and walks back the way he came, gently hoisting her up the wall of the crater with as much care as he can, using his shadows when he has a spare hand. It’s hard, and takes a bit of manoeuvring, but he gets there eventually before he pulls himself up. It’s a surprise to him that she hasn’t woken up yet.

He didn’t feel comfortable leaving her there like that, asleep, vulnerable and barefoot where anyone could’ve found her and not have known what they had stumbled on. He picks her up again, and begins his journey back through the forest, a little slower and with a little more care, mumbling to himself - to her - as they go. She doesn’t stir once, her head propped against his chest, her hair tickling his arm slightly.

The journey back to where he was camping out is peaceful. It’s quiet, save for his footsteps or the rustle of clothes. Occasionally, the moonlight catches her and she sparkles a bit. Literally sparkles, reflects it like a goddamn mirror. It really is a sight to see and it makes his lips quirk up a bit.

When they get back to the field, he’s careful. Aleksander lays her down on his mat, adds a few more logs to the fire and covers her with his coat. He thinks of checking her for injuries or damage, but decides that can wait until she wakes up. He doesn’t want to be a creep, and if she’s in pain she’s probably better off telling him when she wakes up, than him finding out for himself.

And so, he settles himself on the other side of the campfire. He leans his head on his pack - considering the girl next to him has his mat - and tries to get what little sleep will come.

When Y/N wakes, it’s in unfamiliar surroundings. The first thing she’s aware of is the cold. It’s not freezing, but it’s uncomfortable, and she tucks her legs up under her until she’s in a ball, tugging the blanket under her chin. Blanket? No. She shouldn’t have a blanket. It shouldn’t be cold…

She sits up fast and quick, all lethargy gone from her body as her eyes widen and she takes in her surroundings. She’s in a field. On a mat. And someone’s dark, large coat is over her body. It’s early morning, the sky a pale grey, a low mist settling on her surroundings and a light dew coating the grass. She can feel heat on one side of her, but her head is turned towards the foggy treeline. She tries to recall the last things she remembers… being in the sky, existing, and then a sudden gap which she can’t figure out, and then she wakes up here.

She’s caught in thought, trying to make sense of her surroundings when a voice says, “You’re awake.” and her head whips around. On the other side of a fresh campfire is a young man, dark eyes, long dark hair, pale skin and dark clothes. He’s roasting a rabbit over the fire - no doubt freshly caught from the knife that sits beside him. His pack sits beside him, his eyes never leave her, even as she expresses soft panic.

She tries to get up, but her body aches, and he holds out a hand, “Easy. I’m not… I’m not going to hurt you. What’s your name?” he asks softly, waving to her to relax.

She answers hesitantly, her eyes scanning the boy, “Y/N.” she says eventually, “You?”

“Leonid.” Aleksander lies, looking between the campfire and her, “Are you hurt anywhere? You took… quite the fall.”

“Funny.” Y/N says drily, “How long have you been working on that one?”

From the grin that splits his face, he’s clearly secretly pleased with his dad-joke, “Just this morning.” Leonid - Aleksander - turns a bit more serious, “Are you, though? Hurt?”

She shakes her head, kicking the coat off her and putting it to one side so she can sit up properly, “No, I’m fine.” she mumbles, “Just achy.”

“Mhm, I suppose that’s to be expected.” he holds the cooked rabbit out to her on a makeshift fork, “Here, eat. You’ll need it.”

Y/N takes it hesitantly, sniffing it before picking a bit of meat off it with her fingers and eating it, “Thanks… who are you?”

“Leonid.” He repeats.

“No, I meant like - where am I? Who are you - like - how did you find me?”

“Well,” he leans back on his elbows, glances around, “You’re in a field, near Vernost, in Ravka.” he says, “and I am…” his brow furrows softly as he figures out how to phrase this. She’s a Star - would she even understand the difference between Grisha and Otkazats’ya?

He says it anyway.

“As I said, my name’s Leonid, I’m…” he’s hesitant - would a star really have prejudices? He hopes not. He takes a foolish chance. “Grisha. You know what that is?”

She nods, offers him what remains of the Rabbit. He waves it off, indicating that she finishes it. “Why are you helping me?” She asks, tilting her head.

“My, you’re just full of questions.” he sighs, “I saw you fall. I wasn’t just gonna… leave you.”

“Right.” Y/N’s eyes narrow slightly, “is this your coat? Here you can have it back.” she nudges the coat towards him.

He gives her an amused look, his eyes moving down, then back up, “I think you’ll need it more than me, zvezda.” he muses, smug almost.

She glances down at the dress she’s wearing. It’s simple, plain, and he’s right. It’s too thin for the current weather - she’ll be better off as it warms up during the day - but for now, she accepts the coat with a small, amused huff.

"C'mon, eat that fast," he says, indicating to the rabbit, "We've gotta get going before the sun is too high." He's already tucking away the few things he got out, "I'm gonna walk you to the nearest town, Vernost, leave you somewhere safe, okay?" he glances at her, "Get you some shoes and some more suitable clothes. Until then…”

He reaches into his pack, produces a spare undershirt and hands it to her with an almost apologetic look, "Better than nothing." she nods in thanks.

She takes the shirt with a grateful nod. Once she's finished the rabbit, she stands and hands him the mat, watching as he rolls it up and tucks that away too, and then they're set to travel. She pulls on the undershirt over her dress and while it hangs loosely it provides a bit more comfort, and then she shuffles on his coat. It’s too big for her, completely contrasts her bright eyes and white hair, the sleeves hang loosely and she has to roll them up.

He wants to make her as comfortable as possible, and so shows her the map he’s using, highlights the path they’ll be travelling with his finger, showing their way through the woods, worries a bit over her lack of shoes and then they’re walking.

The path to the town is simple, through the woods, past her crater, and then a little further for about fifteen or twenty minutes. He’s careful to go first, his harsh boots making some attempt at flattening the ground for her barefoot condition. Aleksander considers picking her up - no, too weird for someone he’s just met - and she doesn’t seem to be in any pain.

They keep walking. The sun rises higher, the morning beginning just as they make their way into Vernost. It’s a small town, but a good town. The hustle and bustle of people, farmers, artisans, builders and blacksmiths is accompanied by the gentle murmur of the small local market, travellers and locals who move between stalls and shops, horses’ hooves on the cobblestone, the crowd parting for an occasional rickety wooden carriage.

He glances over to her. The look of awe on her face is somewhere between sad and endearing. She’s struck completely by this tiny town, the smallest, simplest form of inhabitance, and yet it brings nothing but awe and wonder to her gaze. There’s a sense of yearning in the way her eyes run over everything as they walk, as if she’s desperate to take it all in, to retain it, keep it held to her chest - to make life hers. To have all of it - to know the joys and the sorrows like the back of her hand. Aleksander could practically see the light come to life behind her eyes, as if she’d finally woken up to something wonderful.

He smiles, somewhere between amusement and appreciation, and places a hand on her shoulder to steer her through the crowds which are slowly getting busier, “Easy tiger.” he says and she laughs sheepishly.

“It’s just all so…” she doesn’t know how to describe it, the words to explain the way her heart is racing all jam up in her throat. She has a heart. The rushing of blood, just the wind against her skin, it’s all she ever wanted to feel, and now that she can feel it, now she’s no longer confined to the night sky, she’s in complete and utter astonishment, raptured by everything around her.

“Kinda overwhelming?” He suggests, raising an eyebrow as they walk. He’s keeping an eye out for a Cobbler - or anywhere that sells shoes, really. Again, he casts his eyes down to her bare feet and feels guilt and concern rise in him, that the streets of Vernost, nor the woods are exactly clean, and they must be hurting by now.

But one glance at her face and he can tell she barely feels it. It’s just dirt - it can be washed off. However, it doesn’t ease the guilt.

The first time she ‘shines’, is over a piece of cake.

They’d been travelling together for a few weeks now. Aleksander was a fool to think he could leave her alone in Vernost, his worries, concerns and guilt over the Star getting the better of him. They stayed for a few days there, giving her a general introduction to the workings of human life in a contained and somewhat non-threatening environment.

In their few brief days in Vernost she tries a range of food, stews, desserts. He explains money, the current politics of the country over a bowl of stew from the Inn they were staying at, explains the prejudices and segregation of Grisha, the violence. They get her clothing, a shirt, an overvest, trousers and boots, and a small bag to carry her non-existent belongings. She folds her dress into it for the first few days - that silky silver material which catches in the moonlight - and it fits surprisingly well, tucks into the corner of the satchel. He explains to her how to read the map, all the different little symbols. In some ways, she’s like a child. Her lack of general knowledge about the world is understandable, but she catches on fast, much faster than anyone else could’ve.

Well, they’d been travelling together for a few weeks, developing a relationship that might even be called friendship. Aleksander had to make a few adjustments to the way he travelled - he was still telling Y/N his name was Leonid - occasionally they travelled at night. Honestly, it made more sense, he felt more comfortable in the darkness, and she had more energy. But it also made them bigger targets for suspicion, people travelling at night were often suspected of Grisha related activity… which is exactly what he was doing. She was just along for the ride, and the last thing he wanted was for her to get dragged into his problems and potentially harmed. Conflicting morals, he knows.

They’d passed through a few villages on their travels, small places which minded their own business and were good for occasional stock ups on food, water, supplies.

He doesn’t know why he bought the slice of cake. Aleksander had decided it was good for her to develop her own independence, and so she had gone to make her own way around this small town they’d stopped in. Meanwhile, he perused the sparse shops for anything of use.

The slices of cake were sitting in the shop window, all of them uniform in their cream decoration and the small slices of strawberries which sat inside and on top of the layers of sponge, and all of them placed delicately on little porcelain dishes. He enters the shop without thinking, purchases a slice to take away, lets the person wrap it away in a small tissue and carefully takes it, slipping it into a safe part of his own bag. He’s careful for the rest of the day in the way he moves - making sure not to squash or compromise the baked good. He can’t quite wrap his mind - nor his heart - around why he’s done it. Why did he suddenly feel the urge to buy her a slice of cake of all things. But he’s glad he did. Aleksander hopes she’ll like it.

He presents it to her over their campfire for the evening. It’s a small thing made of dried grass and twigs or any larger pieces of wood they could find but it provides light and heat and that’s enough. They’re sitting either side of it, across from one another, having just eaten bread and cheese for dinner. Twilight is setting in the sky, and he can see it on her - the way her eyes are slightly brighter, her laugh slightly more mellow as they chat over their food.

He reaches into his bag by his side, clears his throat and says, “I got you something.”

Y/N’s brow furrows softly, and she tilts her head as he continues, “I just… it’s small, but I thought you might like it.” and he produces a square shaped thing, slanted, and wrapped in tissue, still preserved, offering it to her in the palm of his hand over the campfire.

She takes it gently, “What is it?” as she delicately peels back the tissue. The cake is… well, cake. The sponge is a soft pale yellow, the cream delicately placed and the strawberries are slightly softer than they should be, but won’t make too much of a difference. She raises it to her nose and hesitantly sniffs it, which gets a chuckle out of him.

“It’s cake.” he answers, “Go on, try it.” Aleksander encourages her with a wave of his hand.

She raises her eyebrows and lifts the cake to her mouth, taking a small bite. Her eyes instantly light up, and he laughs at her reaction as she mumbles, “Oh, Saints, this is really good..” Around a mouthful of cake.

She eats a bit more, and then holds it out to him, “Want some?”

And that’s when he sees it. She’s shining. Literally glowing. Radiating light, her very skin and hair giving it off like it’s nothing. His breath hitches as she lights up the field. It’s not particularly bright, but it’s strong and it makes itself known. She’s like a mellow night light, and it only causes his smile to widen, “You’re um…” he gestures at her - at her glowing.

Her brow scrunches up - it’s cute - and she laughs sheepishly, “Shining?”

“Yeah. That.” he grins, leaning back on his palms.

She huffs, a huff of mock exasperation, “I’m sorry - I can’t… it’s not something I can really control. It just happens, y’know. Like…” She averts her eyes to the flames of the small campfire, “If I’m happy. I shine - it’s what stars do best.” They both laugh a little.

“Well, it suits you.” Aleksander says gently - his voice much softer than he meant it to be, or than he’s comfortable with. When did he get so… compassionate? He internally grimaces, but for some reason he feels an odd sense of endearment to this girl.

“Yeah,” She responds with a wry grin, “I should hope so. I am a star, after all.”

And again, they both laugh.

Aleksander didn’t intend to keep her with him for so long. He didn’t intend to introduce her to his friends - to his connections, to the people across the country who help him with his work. He didn’t intend to get her involved. But they’ve been travelling together for three months and in that time, he’s discovered a wide array of things.

The first is that she’s good with a sword. Perhaps good is an understatement. She has a natural balance about her, maybe it’s her celestial nature, but watching her with a sword is like watching art. The handle sits in her palm with an easy weight, she swings it with an air of freedom and lax, yet with complete control. The blade is, undoubtedly, hers.

They had discovered her penchant for swords in a rather unfortunate situation. They had been a touch careless. He was feeling more secure with someone else travelling at his side. And so, had paid less attention to his surroundings. If there was one con of her having her around, it was that she was a touch of a distraction.

They had passed through a village. They stayed to briefly eat lunch sitting in the town square, and then had gone to pass on just as quick as they came. It shouldn’t have drawn attention. But it did.

They hadn’t noticed the group of men watching them, looks of disdain on their features as they eyed up the two of them, mumbling to one another. They’d managed to avoid trouble so far, steering clear of Druskelle and negative situations, but on that day, something had given them away as both travellers and Grisha. It was hard to say what - perhaps it was the way they murmured and laughed quietly with one another, maybe the tell-tale way his hands moved. Perhaps he’d been careless and a slip of shadow had been noticed. They couldn’t say for certain. But these men, standing and sneering, they knew.

Either way, Y/N and Aleksander were followed back to where they were camping out by the night. It was just a clearing off the main path they were following, and they had been very comfortably sitting, eating, laughing as they did each and every evening, lit by firelight and accompanied by the low hum of bugs and the weather slowly turning cold. She noticed the figures first.

They seemed to come out of nowhere, far enough away that she could tap his shoulder with a quiet, “Leonid. There’s people.”

His brow furrowed softly, and he turned over his shoulder in the direction she was looking at. Three men, two shorter, one that was a bit taller and lagged behind - all three variously armed. One man - short, dirty blonde hair and a face marred by smudges of dirt - carried a small dagger. The second, slightly taller with a slightly more muscular frame, had dark hair that was greying at the roots, a knife, and a snarl. The third and final man, the tallest of the lot was passive, but his eyes glinted in the firelight with nothing malevolence, and in his goliath hand was a sword.

The man with the dark hair speaks first, accented and gruff, his eyes pinned to Aleksander, “Grisha, aren’t you?” he asks the question in a way that betrays he already knows the answer.

Aleksander doesn’t answer. He’s careful. Delicate. She’s sitting behind him, watching the interaction, hesitant to move. He needs to think this through in a way that puts Y/N out of harm's way. His eyes never leave the men.

There’s a movement out of the corner of his eye - the second man, wielding his dagger up quickly, his movements fueled by disgust. Aleksander’s quicker, raising his hand with two fingers pointed up, creating a wall of shadow which the dagger clashes against, and in that moment he’s scrambled up to his feet, grabbing Y/N by the arm and pulling her up with him. He runs.

He’s not used to running. He’s used to fighting. But at the moment he’s responsible for two people’s safety, and so he pushes forward, yelling at her to go. He expected the men to follow. He didn’t expect the largest to go after her, the three men separating into groups of one and two. The two come after him, dagger and knife, and he has little time to worry about Y/N before they’re gaining,

Aleksander’s efficient, his hands move fast to bring forth his shadows, forming sharp points which pierce the chests of the two men with harsh crunches, their weapons dropping into the grass as their bodies go limp, blood drooling from their mouths as the light leaves their eyes.

He breathes a sigh of relief, but then he’s alert again at the sound of someone crying out from behind him. His head whips around, and he sees Y/N, and the largest man. He’s backing her up against the tree line, she’s almost frozen in fear when she trips over her own feet and onto her back. Her eyes widen, the man leers over her, sword readied and in a brief moment of fear and desperation she rears her legs and kicks his knees.

The man grunts, hisses in pain as the sword drops from his hand so he can clutch at where she kicked him. Amateur. And in the next instant she’s lunged across the ground for the sword, where he dropped it, scrambling for it. She’s still on the floor, and she turns onto her back as the man’s attention is brought to her again, large hands reaching to cause her harm.

The sound of the sword cutting into the man is almost deafening. She does it without thinking, pure survival instinct as she cuts the man's stomach, her hands firm on the handle as blood coats them both, her breathing heavy as she pulls the sword out and the man falls back, dying slowly.

She’s frozen, and Aleksander’s eyes are almost as wide as hers. He takes a few loose footsteps towards her, a few more which are a bit firmer before he’s by her side, kneeling beside her and cleaning the blood off her cheeks with his sleeve, gently taking the sword from her iron grip and laying it beside her.

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, and it feels stupid. She’s covered in blood, shaking, tears in her eyes and the only thing he can think to ask is ‘are you okay’? Saints, he’s an idiot.

He moves on, still wiping the blood off her as well as he can as she nods her head shakily, “It’s alright. You’re alright.” He says quietly. He remembers the first time he killed someone - the guilt, the fear, the horror at yourself. He frowns softly, as the thin shine of tears comes to her eyes and she looks away.

Without thinking about it much more, he picks her up, scooping her into his arms, hooking the back of her knees over his arm as she turns and curls into his chest, her crying quiet and barely audible as he carries her back to their camp.

After that, things are different. They’re closer, in a way.

Y/N keeps the sword, keeps it tucked by her side, takes care of the metal and the handle. She’s good with it, he knows for a fact, and he feels more comfortable knowing she has a means of handling herself. The emotional toll of the murder hit her hard. Perhaps, she thinks, she wasn’t meant to feel emotions like this. Her very existence is in conflict. She’s not meant to be able to feel this way, she’s meant to be a star for Saint’s sake!

But there is something so very human in the guilt she carried in the days after the attack. She was quiet, much quieter than she usually was. At first, she was hesitant to carry the sword. So, instead he carried it for her, catching her eyes flickering towards it occasionally, the way it swung by his hip and the metal caught in the sun.

One evening as they walked, she offered to take it instead.

“Do you want me to take that?” she had said, a quiet, unspoken I think I’m okay now.

“Are you sure?” he asked, “It’s not heavy, I’m okay to carry it for as long as-”

“No, I’m sure.” She nodded, her look determined and firm, “My safety shouldn’t be your responsibility alone.” She explained, “We should be responsible for one another if we’re going to be travelling together. And I can’t do that if I’m unarmed.”

He nodded in understanding, and softly unhooked the sword and the holder, and offered the handle to her. She took it, measuring the weight in her palm, before she put the holder on herself and slipped the sword into it. She took a breath.

He spoke first, “I should tell you something, Y/N. Y’know, if we’re going to be stuck together for a while, I don’t want to keep you in the dark.” he said.

She didn’t respond, simply nodded and waited for him to say what he had to say.

“My name isn’t Leonid, I lied. I’ve spent most of my life having to conceal who I am, what I am, and so I hope you can understand and forgive my deception.” He paused, breathing relief into the night air, “My name is Aleksander.”

“Aleksander?” She echoes, and a small, intimate smile finds her features, “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Aleksander.” She says, in that half-teasing tone he’s become so accustomed with.

He rolls his eyes but can’t fight back the grin, “You’re an ass, do you know that?”

“Ah, you may have mentioned it once or twice.” She shrugs, unable to wipe off that teasing smile from her features.

He huffs in mock exasperation before his tone turns softer. He’s found he has a habit of doing that. Something about her makes him better, gentler. He almost feels human around her, “I mean it Y/N,” he says quietly, “I’m sorry I lied to you, especially for so long.”

“It’s fine,” she says with a small smile, nudging his shoulder, “You’re forgiven, if that eases your conscience.” She’s still slightly teasing, but her tone is mostly compassionate. Endearing, even.

“Thank you,” he says, grinning as he nudges her back, “Saints, you’re insufferable.”

She gasps, dramatically feigning offence. For a star, she’s caught onto the culture of sarcasm and drama rather well, and he laughs at her display, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as they walk. It feels right.

“How are you finding it?” He asks, as they walk, “y’know, being human? Is it weird?” He checks in on her this way every now and then to make sure she’s not overwhelmed. But this is the first time she answers differently.

“...As a star…” She sighed softly, weighing up her words, “You’re constantly watching. You’re up there, watching all these little people have adventures and lives and romance, and it’s… it’s yearning. You want those things too, y’know? You want to be flesh and bone as well, to feel emotion. To cry, and be happy, and be angry, and to know what love feels like. You want adventure, the big things in life like… meeting someone. Or having a family. Or getting an education. Making a difference.” She laughed softly, “But you also want the little things - like cake, for example. And music, and friendship, and to share meals with people you care about.”

She glanced at him, and then back to the path, “I’m glad you found me. I don’t think anyone else would’ve done such a good job at making me feel welcome in a world that isn’t strictly mine.”

Her words were soft, quiet, and sincere. And it made Aleksander’s heart stutter in his chest, but he kept his composure and managed, “I’m glad I found you too.”

Aleksander takes her to a place he calls ‘the sanctuary’.

He explains it to her on the way there - a building, a place, where Grisha can support, aid and train other Grisha.

It’s been months since they first met, and by now the warm comfort of the summer is fading, replaced by cold golden sunlight and browned leaves, wetter grounds and harsher gales. And so, he takes her there.

The sanctuary is a medium-sized, pale stone structure, hidden away in the middle of nowhere, concealed by thick woods and trees. It’s squat, but wide, the front of it gives away nothing but a set of rounded wooden doors. He takes her hand - she’s not even sure he realises that he’s done it - and guides her with him to the front. Her sword swings at her side as she follows, standing beside him as he raps his knuckles on the wooden door a few times.

The door opens a crack, she can’t see who’s on the other side, but Aleksander’s gaze meets theirs and they open it. On the other side is a man, short brown hair and green eyes. He’s rather skinny, but his strength is held in his eyes. He lets Aleksander in without issue, nodding his head softly. Their hands are still linked together and so, she goes to follow.

But the brown haired man stops her, a hand coming to her chest to halt her, his eyes narrowed and dark, glancing back at Aleksander. He answers, “She’s with me, Andrei.”

“Grisha?” The man interrogates.

Aleksander huffs, “No, Andrei. But she’s been helping me for the past five months, let her through.”

Andrei’s eyes narrow in suspicion, and he glances at Aleksander finally before letting his hand drop and allowing her entrance. She nods her head softly, and follows after Aleksander. Y/N feels him squeeze her hand, a quiet apology. She squeezes back as he guides her deeper into the sanctuary. They pass rooms, beds, people who nod at him as they pass and whose eyebrows furrow when they see her trailing after him, and her stark white hair.

Inside, the sanctuary was busy. It was filled with the hum of people working, all in various clothing - some injured, some healing, some cooking, some reading, teaching, training - it was almost a wonderful study in the kindness of human nature and community that had her eyes widening.

“Are you alright, Zvezda?” he asked softly, turning back to her over his shoulder, “Are you overwhelmed? We can…”

“No, it’s… it’s wonderful.” She said quietly, her wide eyes meeting his, “I mean- it’s astounding. I’m good.” she nodded, indicating for him to keep going, “It’s just… in all our time travelling, I’ve never seen anything like this.”

He laughed softly, pulling her closer by her hand, “I guess,” he grinned, “I’m proud of this place. I’m glad you can see it like that.”

They spend at least three weeks at the Sanctuary.

Aleksander takes his time to introduce Y/N to those around her. He shows her around to all the Healers, the Heartrenders, the Inferni, the Squalors, Tidemakers - technically, he shows her off to everyone. But no one knows, really, who - or what - she is. He doesn’t say. People press and ask and inquire, “Oh, what’s her Grisha order?” “Grisha, are you?” And everytime, one of them answers, “Oh, uh, No.” and refuse to elaborate further.

It has the entire building utterly perplexed as to who this strange white haired girl is, and why she has the Shadow Summoner wrapped around her little finger. Not that The Star or The Shadow Summoner can see it, no, they’re completely oblivious. They don’t see how they’re quiet giggles, teasing, conversations might be perceived as intimate. Nor how the amount of time they spend together might be seen as suspicious.

But when you’ve spent everyday with a person for just over five months, all day, everyday, it’s very hard to separate yourself from the comfort they bring.

The confession comes late at night.

Now that they’re in a place like the Sanctuary, they have their own rooms. They’re only small, and they’re a short walk away from one another, and it gives them each a privacy they haven’t experienced for a few months. For the first week - it’s nice. Having their own beds, their own time, being able to spend some of it alone with their thoughts.

He notices it first. That he’s restless. It’s late at night, most of the building is asleep save for those on night watch, and he can barely close his eyes without feeling disturbed. He feels the need to do something - anything - and so, he gets out of bed, slipping back on his boots at the end of his bed and deciding he’s going to go for a walk. Maybe it’ll help clear his mind.

Aleksander’s almost embarrassed. He can’t… he can’t stop thinking of her. He’s annoyed at himself for it, for letting him get that close, for letting him be so vulnerable to someone who wasn’t even human, who had a child’s grasp on the world…

No, that was being unfair. He calms himself as he steps out of his room. He knows he’s just agitated, tired, a little giddy, and he takes a deep breath as he starts off down the corridor, careful not to let his boots thud too heavily. He doesn’t know where he’s going, he decides he’s just going to walk until he comes across something distracting or gets tired.

His feet take him to her room.

It’s the same size as his, and from the crack in the door he can tell she’s still awake, can hear a slight shuffling inside, candle light flickering on the floor. He realises now, why he’s there. What he’s come to do. And his heart lurches in his chest, but he understands that it’s now or hold his tongue for another few months and he doesn’t want to do that.

Aleksander wants her to know about the Y/N shaped cavern she’s carved into his life. He wants her to know about how all those nights spent travelling in fields were not something he was willing to give up so easily - that when spring came he hoped to do it all again. With her. That he thinks of her endlessly. That when he wakes he hopes she’s still sleeping beside him, just a campfire away. And he wants her closer. He wants her. It’s as simple as that, that he wants to see her smile at him, and laugh - he doesn’t care if it’s at him or with him - Saints, he just wants her happy.

The revelation comes to him, standing so close to her yet so far, on her bedroom doorstep. He takes a breath, steels himself to the sound of her soft humming from the other side of the door, and then raises his fist and knocks three times.

By the first knock, the humming stops. By the second, she’s walking over to the door, he can hear her footsteps. And by the third, the handle is turning. The door opens and he lowers his hand. She’s standing on the other side. Of course it was her, he knew it was her. It doesn’t stop his heart from thudding against his ribs, nor his breath hitching quietly.

The light from the candle makes her seem fully celestial, casting a golden hue across her features, and darkening half her face to accentuate them. It bounces off her silver hair, catching in the strands like a contained forest fire.

“Aleksander?” Y/N greets softly, a small amused smile as she tilts her head in soft confusion, her brow furrowing.

“Zvezda,” He greets softly, his eyes catching in the candle, so dark you can barely separate the pupil from the iris, “Can’t sleep?”

She shakes her head with a small laugh, beckoning him in with her hand, “Always got more energy during the night,” she sighs, “And it’s taking some getting used to, not sleeping in a field, not waking up…” next to you.

But she doesn’t need to finish the sentence, he simply hums in agreement and shuts the door behind him, leaning on it, “I know, it’s a big adjustment.” He runs a hand through his long dark hair, “How are you finding the Sanctuary?”

“It’s nice,” she says softly, briefly fixing her words in a slight hurry, “Sorry, that sounded- it’s lovely. The people are kind, the community is wonderful, food’s much better than bread and cheese and meats,” She grins, “No offence.”

He laughs, his nose wrinkling with the action, “None taken. In fact, I completely agree.”

She sits on her bed as they talk, tucking her legs underneath her, “Can’t sleep either?” She probes.

Aleksander shakes his head as well, “No, feeling restless. Same reasons as you.” He admits, feeling a bit more at ease with the slight indication that the comfort they feel around one another may be mutual, “I guess,” he sighs, bracing himself to admit it, “We spent so long together. A week was fine - but it’s weird. I keep on… waking up and expecting to see you.”

“I know,” she agreed quietly with a small laugh, her head bent down to her hands in her lap, “it’s strange, isn’t it? I feel weird not… walking with you, or doing something, seeing a new town or whatnot. And I have this feeling.” She frowned softly to herself.

He tilts his head, folds his arms, “What feeling, Zvezda?” He asks, his brow furrowing gently.

“I… I don’t know.” she said, her eyes narrowing as she looked not quite at him - but just over his shoulder - “It’s like… this…tightness.” her hand came to her chest, her nose scrunching softly, “Here. Like… nausea. But not quite - I’m not going to be sick. And I can feel my heart. And it… it feels like wanting. But stronger?”

His eyes widened a fraction, “And uh, when do you feel it?”

She tilted her head, her eyes zeroing in on him in confusion and uncertainty, “When…” when I think about you. “Oh.” She said quietly, “Is that what that is?” her hand gently rubbed her chest, clearly where she felt it strongest, a sheepish laugh as she turned her eyes to the candle, anywhere but him, “They don’t describe it like this in the books.”

He breathed a sigh of relief as he realised that he wouldn’t have to explain to her that what she was feeling was, at least, a crush. If not more. Aleksander laughed softly, “No, no they do not.”

Y/N laughed too, mildly embarrassed and still somewhat avoiding looking at him, her hands fidgeting, “Look, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be.” he cut her off, “Don’t be, please don’t be, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He cleared his throat and took a sharp breath, standing up from leaning on the door, “It’s… it’s mutual, Y/N.” and he took a hesitant step towards her, “Zvezda.” He said the nickname to get her attention.

It worked, her head turning slightly, and he continued, “Please don’t ever apologise for having feelings.” He said, his tone so much softer than he was comfortable with, “You’re a human now.” he laughed a little, crouching down in front of her as she sat on the bed, “It’s your job now. To feel. To make the most of life. So,” he said with a playful shrug, “we both have… crushes on one another.” It felt childish to say ‘crushes’ but he couldn’t think of a better word.

“I mean…” he sighed softly, “That’s kind of… why I came here.” He confessed.

“Really?” she asked quietly, watching him intently as he spoke.

“Really.” he echoed, standing up. She patted the bed beside her for him to sit, and he gratefully took it, glad she was taking this all so well and she wasn’t clamming up about their feelings for one another, “Look, Y/N, Zvezda. You’ve changed my life,” he said with a small laugh of disbelief, “I mean… you’re a Star, for Saint’s sake. You are, by nature, brilliant. And you’ve been nothing short of that in the months we’ve been travelling. Even if your humour is appalling.” He softly teased, earning a playful grumble of, “It is not.” from her.

“It is!” he insisted with a teasing grin, “You laugh at all my bad jokes, dear.”

“Yeah well,” her initial embarrassment was beginning to fade as they engaged in their usual banter, “I think that says more about you for making the bad jokes.” to which he scoffed, and she dispersed into laughter, the two of them leaning back on the single bed.

The laughter lasted a moment longer before fading out with a soft, content sigh. He grinned at her from where he was, a hand reaching forward for hers as he softly, half-teasingly, murmured, “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” “Shining, Zvezda.”

“What can I say?” she laughed quietly, her head finding his shoulder, “I’m happy.”

A/N: I cannot wait to go to bed. And also to start part two. Goodnight!! <;3

#Last Words of A Shooting Star AU #Stardust AU #the darkling X reader #Shadow And bone X reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander x reader #shadow and bone fanfic #general kirigan x reader #kirigan x reader #stardust au #thebigsl33p

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billskeis · 1 month

Note

Can you do gustav with an m!reader who’s more quiet in bed so like gustav’s worried he isn’t making him feel good and it just ends with fluff (sorry if it’s super vague but I’m kinda bad at writing prompts💕)

ᡣ𐭩 gustav pleasing his bf

heavy kisses were placed on your mouth as you intertwined your hands with gustav, tongues dancing together as you gain a pace both you and your boyfriend felt good with.

you feel yourself getting hard, growing from within the constraints of your jeans to which it then becomes an uncomfortable sensation.

gustav notices this after opening his eyes and looking at your obvious hard-on. he stops kissing you and places a peck on your cheek.

“c-can i..?” he asks with glossy eyes looking up at you.

“mmhm,” you nod.

with a smile, gustav unbuttons your jeans and frees your cock from your boxers. moaning in relief, gustav cannot help but blush from how sexy you sound.

“ah,”

“feel better?”

“definitely..”

“am.. am i allowed to touch you..?”

oh how cute, bless gustav’s heart for asking questions. obviously, you oblige and give gustav a kiss of reassurance as he begins to stroke your member.

his hand moving up and down your shaft slowly, precum already beginning to leak from the top of your cock.

you bite your lips, and look at how concentrated gustav is in pleasuring you. eyebrows furrowed and with total determination to make you come.

he pays a lot of attention to your tip, engulfing it within his palms and rotating his hands in a circular motion.

“m-mmph..”

you jerk your head up to the ceiling and close your eyes. fuck, it feels good. a tightening in your stomach begin to grow.

for his first time, it feels really good. i guess what comes with both being guys he already knows what feels good and what doesn’t.

is this how gustav masturbates?

thinking about it makes you hotter by the second, cock already leaking with just the thought of it.

however, due to your lack of noise gustav cannot help but pout. he begins to slow his movements as you open your eyes to look at your boyfriend, curious as to what happened.

“baby..? what’s wrong, why’d you stop?”

“you’re quiet.”

“y-yeah i am,”

“i don’t think i’m making you feel good..” he looks down and his pout forms into a frown. you swear you can see puppy dog ears folding in sadness and a tail stop wagging.

oh. my. god. how adorable.

“baby..” you place a hand on his shoulder, “i am feeling good,”

“hm.” gustav responds back in disapproval.

“c’mon baby, just because i’m quiet doesn’t mean i’m particularly not being pleasured.”

“i find that hard to believe schatzi..”

you scoff, rolling your eyes, you free gustav’s member from within his bottoms and scoot your bodies closer to one another.

taking a hand, you bring both yours and gustav’s members and rub them together. skin to skin. the contact of both your cocks melt to become one.

“can you feel it..? can you feel how wet i am? that’s all your doing, baby..” gustav whimpers as you reassure him.

“i’ve never felt so good in my life. i feel like i’m melting from your touch gustav. i literally have goosebumps on my arms, my stomach is uncomfortable and i want to come, so bad..”

“y/n..”

“just follow my lead now, i’ll take over.. you deserve to feel good too, yeah?”

“o-okay..”

as you jerk both your cocks together, heavy breaths are heard from you and gustav. chests heaving as the precum from each of you slick the lengths of both members, making it easier to please one another.

“p-promise..?” he asks,

“i promise.”

you hold out a hand for gustav to then interlock with his. leaning in for a kiss, you and gustav begin to make out as you masturbate his cock with yours.

moaning into the kiss, gustav tightens his grip onto your hands. you disconnect your lips from his, a string of saliva still attached to your mouths.

“mm..!

“gonna come?” you smirk. you pay more attention to gustav more than you do to yourself.

“y-yes, schatz fuck—ah..”

“me too..”

with a couple of jerks, both you and gustav come at the same time, orgasms hitting pretty hard as gustav begins to fuck his cock into your hand, how cute.

staining your palms is both yours and gustav’s cum. you look at it and smirk, but gustav just blushes and looks away bashfully to grab a tissue.

wiping your hands, you place a gentle kiss on his cheek that results in him giggling.

“thank you gustav,”

“mmhm,”

“you made me feel really good..”

“r-really?”

“yes really, i love you,”

“i love you too, liebling.”

a/n : this one was realllyyyy short but i hope it suffices for u anon >.< also not to familiar with writing for m!reader so feedback is greatly appreciated

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x y/n #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel fluff #tokio hotel smut #gustav schafer #gustav schafer x y/n #gustav schafer x you #gustav schafer x reader #gustav schafer fluff #gustav schafer smut #2000s #fyp #billskeis

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carlyraejepsans · 8 months

Text

> "Sorry, the pink slippers are kinda distracting, what did you say again?"

You clutch your bag tighter.

"Stay back."

"woah, what's with the tone? anyway, don't worry. i'm a big fan of not moving."

He inspects the contents of his mug, then cocks his head at you.

"funny, i'm pretty sure this is the first chance we've had to talk in"—he gestures vaguely—"all this stuff."

He winks, "the name's—"

"Sans," you finish for him, "I know."

He pauses, holding your gaze, but his smile doesn't falter in the slightest. Another chill runs up your spine.

"huh," he says, "guess it slipped my mind."

You flinch as he starts to move, but he only reaches down to grab one of the fallen pages off of the floor. He skims it for a moment, turning it this and that way, before shrugging and letting it fall to the floor once again.

"actually, i was thinking of getting a snork of two in," he shoves his free hand in his shorts pocket, "but, uh. you still haven't answered my question, have you?"

Looking around the room, you consider your options. He seems amiable. At least, considering that you just broke into his bedroom. But you know better than to be lured into any sense of safety. You know what he's capable of. You've felt it, too, and you would prefer to avoid repeating the experience as much as possible.

But... you've only ever known him to fight under express request of the King. You doubt he'd kill you without his permission. Besides, it's unlikely you'll make it out of this room without consequences for your actions, whether you go willingly or not.

You don't have much to lose. You decide to risk it.

"I'm looking for information," you state, simply.

Again, he looks at the new whirlwind of papers covering the room.

"yep. i can see that. strange, i didn't take you as the bookish type."

Here goes nothing.

You step forward.

"No, I... I came to talk." You lick your lips, "with you."

"...talk?"

He raises a brow.

"just to get this straight. you risked your neck falling from a window, broke into my room in the middle of the night, raided a bookshelf. just to... what, talk?"

Well. If you put it like that.

You nod.

Sans stares. Then he snorts.

"sure."

He grabs the chair from the desk and tips it far enough so that whatever clothes were still hanging onto it for dear life are forced to lose their grip. Then he sits on it, hands in his pockets, and hooks one slippered foot over the other.

"let's chat."

-->

#undertale #mywriting #sans #tee-hee :]c

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fruitcoops · 1 year

Note

just had a tornado blow through...(we're okay, it's kinda normal here). but could we get another blackout/big storm fic? (if you're up for it?)

Glad you're alright! We've got a big storm here tonight as well <3 Have some Lions working through life to distract. Character credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW mild/ medium relationship issues, Sirius' bad habits, and previous people not being very nice to Leo

There was something in the water. Remus was sure of it.

“Put—stop it! Put it down!”

Maybe carbon monoxide was leaking into the rink. Plus all of their houses and apartments.

“I told you, it’s not about the rutabaga.”

Or, fuck it, Mercury was in the microwave again. In the Gatorade? Something like that. He wondered if Marlene would know.

Arthur knocked on the doorframe and the mass of grumbling died down; the air still tasted like sour sweat and irritation and Remus wrinkled his nose at the mats. After a cursory look around the room, Arthur raised a brow and gestured with his clipboard. “Y’know, I’ve got a lot of notes—a lot of notes—but none of you look like you can handle them right now, so we’re doing the short version. Cap, come see me. Lupin, Moody’s waiting for you, don’t give me that face. Olli, figure your shit out. Kuns…Kuns.” He shook his head. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Tremzy, stop being mean, and Harz, stop being stupid. Bliz, Layla gets the honor of having you this afternoon. Do your cooldowns without biting each others’ heads off, please, and then go home and sleep this off. Goodnight.”

“Night, Coach,” came the mumbled chorus.

Remus chewed the inside of his lip while he stripped his shin pads off. Sirius was already halfway out the door, still in his under armor—the rush of endorphins that usually accompanied the sight of his gorgeous fiancé was notably absent. He closed his eyes and took a breath. Recenter. It was a rough day, rough week, rough whatever. It would be best to just let it go now.

A hand clapped his shoulder and he nearly jumped out of his skin. “Jesus!”

“Woah, hey, easy.” Talker held both hands low, palms down between their stalls. “Just saying hi.”

“What—” Breathe. Recenter. Remus blinked a few times to clear his head. “Fuck, no, you’re good. Sorry. Hi. Sorry.”

Talker’s gaze turned dark with worry. “You okay?”

“Just…in my head.” It was a shit answer, but his vague wave seemed to get the point across. Talker nodded slowly. His hands remained on his own side. “You?”

“Been better, been worse.” He tipped his head back and forth, making his small earring swing. A gift from Noelle, if Remus remembered correctly. He watched it catch the fluorescent light for a few seconds before Talker spoke again. “Weird energy in here.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” Remus turned back to his pads with a humorless laugh. “No kidding. We should crack a window or something.”

Talker hummed, tucking his hands beneath himself. One knee bounced incessantly and Remus tried not to let it bother him. “Reminds me of the you-know-whats.”

Remus’ hands itched to knock on wood. “Yep.”

“But we’re not there. Yet,” Talker added after a pause.

“Nope.”

“Cap’s being…interesting.”

“Tell me about it,” Remus muttered.

Something like relief rippled over Talker’s expression. “So it’s not us.”

“When is it ever?” Remus offered a wry smile. “He gets like this. You know that. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

Talker’s shoulder relaxed against his own, warm and solid. “Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s really not you, man.”

“I know.”

“T.” Remus waited until he looked over, and ducked his head slightly. “It’s not you.”

The kicked-puppy look in Talker’s eye made his chest hurt. Remus knew he had a tendency to put it all on himself—to think he was solely responsible for maintaining the team’s happiness. They were friends for a reason, after all. A missed pass wasn’t the end of the world, but…god, in the NHL? It sure felt like it.

Leo blew past them, not quite stomping, but certainly not pleased. Remus followed his path and found Logan staring at the floor with the same mournful gaze that plagued half the room. His stomach twisted. For a group of guys with everything in the world, they were a bunch of fucking messes, sometimes.

He patted Talker once on the shoulder before standing; he didn’t bother with shoes. It was a quick enough trip to get by in his socks. Moody’s office door was already open when he arrived, and he had barely raised his hand to knock on the frame when a grunt invited him inside.

The door closed with a faint noise. Silence thickened the air, save for the scribble of Moody’s pen. “Coach said you wanted to see me?” Remus prompted awkwardly. He didn’t like this stiffness. They had never been like that before.

Moody clicked his pen shut and leaned back in his chair with a long sigh, rocking back and forth. “Layla says you’re favoring your bad side.”

Tattletale. Remus bit the instinctive thought back. That wasn’t fair. “Probably.” Moody raised an unamused brow at him. “Yeah,” he admitted, scuffing his foot on the floor. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

“Why?”

“ ‘Cause.”

“The league doesn’t like it when I’m not nice to you boys.” Moody fixed him in place with a look. “But you’re not a snitch, so cough it up, you little shit.”

A scowl tried to claw its way onto Remus’ face, but he kept himself steady. Moody had done too much for him and saved him from too many bad places to be iced out. He kicked at a dust bunny. “Nine years.”

“Since…?”

“Since.”

“Ah.”

He sniffed, dry-eyed and nauseated. “Next Monday. Nine years. I still remember the day and time it happened.”

“We’re not playing Vegas next week.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Moody went quiet, and stayed that way for a long time. His chair creaked as he rocked in slow, maddening patterns. He’d have his leg off, tucked beneath his desk; he rarely left it on when he didn’t need to. Something about sweat. Itching. The works, he’d grumble if Remus asked. The ‘World’s Best Grandpa’ mug—a gag gift from last year’s Secret Santa—sat undisturbed on his desk, filled to bursting. Pens, pencils, a spoon, a screwdriver, an inexplicable parrot feather, all interspersed with his steadily-growing collection of flags.

Remus remembered the day the first one had appeared. A simple rainbow with a wooden stick, no bigger than a postcard. Moody hadn’t said a thing, but he knew it was for him. It wasn’t the only one anymore. The sight of it still made his throat tight.

“Come see me if you need to,” Moody said at last. He tapped his pen on his stack of papers, then nodded. “For the record, I’m not worried. Out of my office.”

“Have a good night, Moody.” Thunder rolled overhead as he turned to the door. “Get home safe, okay?”

He got another grunt in the affirmative and turned the doorknob, hoping the squeaky top hinge would muffle his sigh. The door swung open, Remus walked face-first into Sirius’ chest, and everything went black as night.

“I don’t know why you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry.”

“Don’t pull that bullshit.”

“My feelings aren’t bullshit.”

“Mon dieu—”

“I’m serious, I’m not angry.” Leo shut the drawer a little harder than necessary. The salt shaker rattled on the counter.

“Then what are you?” Logan demanded, keeping his voice low.

“I’m—” He pressed his lips together and tilted his face up to the ceiling. Upset. Hurt. Stressed. Frustrated. Angry. “I don’t know.”

“I already apologized for the rhubarb—”

“Rutabaga.”

“Jesus, Leo.” Logan’s tone was sharp; he flinched. Okay, maybe he deserved that one. He heard Logan’s unsteady exhale and felt a gentle touch on his arm. “I’m sorry. I should have listened better, or texted you when I wasn’t sure.”

And there it was again, that burning flare of annoyance. Leo shrugged him off and turned to the coffee maker. Someone had left their disposable cup in the machine the last time it was used. The sight made him want to take the entire thing and slam it on the floor.

“Leo?”

“I don’t want you to text me when you aren’t sure.” His voice came out shaky and he silently cursed himself. At least his hands didn’t tremble while he swapped the cups. “I—Logan, I shouldn’t have to be your food dictionary.”

“Hey.”

Leo bit the inside of his cheek at the genuine hurt in Logan’s voice and dug through the mug cupboard. “Look, it’s fine, just…look it up if you’re not sure. It’s not like I hide my cookbooks.”

Or, better yet, be a capable adult. Logan’s sneakers shuffled on the linoleum. Where was his goddamn mug? “D’accord,” he finally said. “Yeah, I’ll—I can do that.”

Was it bad that Leo wanted him to push harder? Maybe he was just jonesing for a fight, but Logan’s instant buckling made him feel even worse. They had been waspish with each other earlier, enough that Finn outright refused to be in the same room until they figured themselves out—perhaps Logan had worn out his ability to argue for the day.

Leo snorted humorlessly. That would be a first.

Pastel yellow caught his peripheral vision. He clenched his hands on the edge of the countertop and took a deep, fortifying breath. Throwing a mug at a wall would get him fired. Throwing things at Logan would never be something he did, in this life or the next, no matter how angry he may or may not be.

Leo plucked the Me-Wow! mug from it’s place—dirty—in the sink—also dirty—by its tail-shaped handle and dropped it in the trash, then walked out of the kitchen, leaving Logan and his coffee behind. Thunder rumbled overhead and guilt bubbled up. He shouldn’t leave like that, not when the storm was only going to get worse. Logan didn’t do well alone and upset. He had almost certainly left his headphones at home, too. Leo was never the one to leave but he just couldn’t take it—

He made it ten feet down the hall before the lights went out and silence doused the building.

Fuck.

James was not live, laugh, loving in these conditions. First of all, his best friend/ best man/ adopted brother was imploding with self-loathing for approximately the seventh time this week. Second, his wife’s best friend/ best man/ adopted brother was a nervous wreck despite his best attempts to keep himself together. And third, two of the rookies had worked themselves into a tiff that made Finn look like that.

Finn watched Logan leave after Leo in utter misery. Poor kid belonged in an ASPCA commercial.

In truth, James didn’t know what went wrong, exactly. Sirius had these cycles—he’d ride high and be so firm in himself, in what he loved and worked for, then crash so hard James expected it to leave visible wounds. It was far more frequent in the early days. Since Remus entered the picture, Sirius hadn’t spiraled more than a handful of times. It was like he needed a pressure-release valve to make sure all those internal works didn’t melt or rust over. Remus was better at getting Sirius to talk than just about anyone. It was shitty that Remus’ wan smiles and sickly pallor had to align with the exact time Sirius most needed someone who wouldn’t put up with his nonsense.

James did his best, but he wanted them to be happy more than anything. More often than not, it meant he didn’t push nearly enough. They all had bad habits.

He knew Coach would bring it up today. Sirius’ dark mood had set them all on edge, caught in that place between wanting to prove themselves and wanting to stay out of the way. Whatever was happening between Leo and Logan had brought the scrap of good mood to rock-bottom. There was only so much slack James could pick up without exhausting himself, and he was already at the end of his rope.

Talker was still fussing with his sock tape when James looked over. The stickiness was dead from his rhythmic wrapping and unwrapping, but he didn’t seem to care. James nudged his toe with the front of his skate. “ ‘Sup?”

Talker half-shrugged. “Not much.”

“You were good in the scrimmage today.”

His hands stuttered on the roll before evening out again. “You, too.”

James scooted over into Remus’ stall and lowered his head, turning slightly away from the center of the room for an iota of privacy. “You wanna talk about it? If this is about the pass—”

“Noelle can’t make it for my birthday.”

Oh. Oh. James’ heart sank. “Aw, buddy.”

“They’re in the playoffs and someone rescheduled.” His lips pressed together in a tight line. “It’s dumb, I just…”

“Miss her,” James finished when he trailed off.

Talker nodded. “Distance sucks.”

“I know.”

James tried not to be offended by Talker’s immediate skepticism. “You do?”

“Lily stayed in Boston for three years before transferring up here.” Worst three years of my life. “She wanted her BS in chemistry. I wasn’t going to be the schmuck to hold her back. We called, and FaceTimed, and texted when she was at school, but it—”

“Wasn’t the same,” they said in unison.

The ball of tape fell pathetically next to the trash bin. “I want to hug her,” Talker said. “It sounds so stupid, but I want to hug her. And—I don’t know, it’s been rainy today. She likes it when it rains.”

“Yeah.” James leaned over to bump his shoulder. “I hear if you cross your fingers and jump in a circle three times, your wishes come true.”

Talker was halfway through a laugh when the lights went out.

Oh my god, I went blind. The thought was wild and harebrained and ridiculous. So, precisely how Remus was feeling in every other aspect of his life.

“Oh.” Sirius sounded surprised. His hands were firm on Remus’ upper arms. “Bonjour.”

Remus blinked a few times to let his vision adjust to the sudden darkness. The remnants of the team’s shouts of surprise echoed briefly before going quiet. “Uh, hi,” he managed. Sirius was nothing more than a blob of shadow, but he felt along his arms and chest until he found a shoulder to pat. “Sorry. Power’s out?”

“Looks like it.”

“Huh. Did you…did you need something?”

Sirius shifted from foot to foot. “Uh. No, not really.”

Liar, but okay. Remus patted him again, and let his hand linger. The rink felt different like this. Low murmuring had started up again in the locker room, but everything else was grave-quiet without the familiar buzz of electricity. It felt like the heartbeat had stopped. Like they had paused in time. “We should—should we go back to the locker room?”

Sirius’ hands pulsed where he held Remus. “Sure,” he said with the reluctance of someone being asked to walk headfirst into the ocean.

Lightning cracked outside and Remus caught a glimpse of Sirius worrying at the inside of his lip in the brief light. “We can stay here,” he offered after a moment. “Or, like…go somewhere else for a bit.”

“Can we?”

The relief in Sirius’ voice ached. They had been so pent-up lately, neither willing to break the ice first but both suffering from their shared bad moods. Remus knew he had been more lost in his thoughts than down on Earth for days, and Sirius was being so…so Sirius. But not his Sirius. The Sirius that was twitchy, the Sirius that tossed and turned all night. The Sirius that barely finished his dinner.

Remus rolled the sleeve of Sirius’ shirt between his thumb and pointer finger, and pulled him in for a hug. His stiffness dissolved in an instant.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into Sirius’ collarbone. He smelled good when Remus took a deep inhale, laundry soap and cologne. His arms were strong and solid around Remus’ back—he felt a few deep breaths come and go under his palms and inclined his head to let Sirius’ bury his face in his neck. His hair was damp from his post-practice rinse. It tickled Remus’ nose along the wings he liked to play with when Sirius was sleepy and cuddly. He sighed again. “Sirius, I’m so sorry.”

“I wasn’t there for you this week.” Sirius’ breath warmed his neck. His hold on Remus tightened. “You don’t need to be sorry, loup.”

“Okay,” Remus said softly. “But I am.”

“If you’re sorry, then I’m—” Sirius broke off with a tired laugh and nuzzled further into his neck. “I don’t know. Throwing myself at your feet and begging for forgiveness.”

Remus snorted at that mental image, but held him closer anyway. “It’s okay. I know you don’t like feeling like this.”

“I don’t,” Sirius agreed. “Doesn’t mean I should stop paying attention to you.”

“I’ve been doing the same to you,” he reminded him gently.

“You had a reason.”

“And you didn’t?”

Sirius fell quiet. His fingertips slipped along the divot of Remus’ spine while his palm warmed the small of his back; Remus felt a bit silly, standing there in his socks in the dark, but it didn’t really matter when he could feel Sirius’ heart beginning to even out at last. Someone padded out of the locker room and down the hall. Red hair stood out for a half-second when lightning struck again and his worry eased. If Finn was going to check on his boys, everything would sort itself out.

“I hate that this still happens.” Sirius’ voice barely cleared a whisper. “It sneaks up on me, and then I can’t sleep and I’m not hungry—or, I am, I just can’t—and I don’t know when it will stop.”

“I know, baby.”

“I want to sleep next to you and not be thinking about the next game, Re.”

Remus slipped his hands beneath Sirius’ arms and pressed their bodies together like he could press reassurance into him. If he could take that burden, he would. If he could fix it, he would. If he had the right words to tell Sirius that he didn’t care whether he was perfect or a wreck, he would. He pushed his nose under the soft spot of Sirius’ jaw and kissed him there. “I love you.”

A small sound stuck in Sirius’ throat.

“Je t’aime,” he repeated with another kiss. Just because he could.

The rise and fall of Sirius’ shoulders was steady now. “Je t’aime aussi. Whatever you need for this week, I’m here, okay? I’m in your nook.”

“My…nook?”

“Your—” Sirius huffed a laugh. “I’m on your side. Whatever the saying is.”

“In my corner?” Remus suggested around a smile. Sirius grumbled something vaguely agreeable and swatted at him, but never loosened their hug for a second.

Leo was holding him, and he wasn’t even angry anymore. Not like he had been. Thunder rattled a distant window and Logan’s grip twisted in the front of his shirt. “I’m fine,” he said.

Leo kissed his temple. “Yeah.”

They lapsed back into silence. He was usually so good at problem-solving, but every time he tried to speak, his tongue got stuck on the words. The anger had burnt itself out. The frustration and annoyance were still there, alongside the hurt. He wished Finn was there. Finn always knew what words to use.

“I’m sorry,” Leo said haltingly. Logan shifted in his arms. “I was shitty to you. Earlier, I mean. I should have talked to you.”

Logan didn’t answer. Somehow, that was the worst outcome. Leo knew how to match him in a verbal fight.

Lightning flashed. Logan flinched. Leo held him like he alone could stop the light from taking his boyfriend by surprise. That was it, wasn’t it? Even pissed off, he’d still hold Logan rather than leaving him in the dark with a thunderstorm.

They didn’t speak, just swayed in place. Footsteps echoed down the hall, growing closer each second before coming to a halt in the doorway. “Babes?”

“Here,” they chorused softly.

“Um.” Finn audibly hesitated. “Okay, give me a landmark. I’m so blind right now.”

“By the countertop,” Leo offered. Logan burrowed deeper into his chest. He was fever-hot the way he got when he was upset. Finn’s noise of sympathy when he found them and felt it somehow made it worse. “Hey, Fish.”

“Hey.” Leo heard the sound of a soft kiss. “Lo, you good?”

“Ouais,” came the murmured answer.

They lapsed into silence for the length of another roll of thunder. “And you…” Finn faltered. “You figured yourselves out?”

Leo looked away despite the darkness. They remained silent.

“Right,” Finn sighed.

“I don’t know what I did,” Logan blurted. “You said this wasn’t about the rutabaga, but it is, and you said you’re not angry, but you are, and I’m confused. And I’m really sorry for whatever I did to upset you, Peanut. I’m being so honest right now.”

“That’s the problem,” Leo said helplessly.

Logan clutched at his shirt, as if the answers were hidden in the fabric. “What?” he asked. “What is the problem? Stop doing that, I told you, I’m confused. Are you angry?”

“A little,” Leo choked out. Ugh, honesty was sawdust in his mouth.

“Is it about the rutabaga?”

“No.”

Logan made a frustrated noise, but Finn cut him off before he could continue. “What is it about, sweetheart?” he asked, so gentle it burned.

Leo let out a long breath, unwinding one arm from Logan’s waist to wrap it around Finn instead. He was nice and cool from his shower. They had all been running too hot lately.

“I’m not your mom, Lo,” he began. “We’re all grown-ups here. You know what food looks like. You know how to google things.” He felt the feelings ramp up again and rather than swallowing them back, let them siphon out on an exhale. Everything inside him was a miserable, knotted mess. “You don’t need me to come to the store with you all the time, and it pisses me off when you keep asking because I’m—'better at it’, or whatever. It’s not my job to shop for you. I’m sick and tired of it.”

Logan’s chest caved against his own. He mumbled something under his breath and Leo closed his eyes.

“I can’t hear you when you do that, c’mon, please—"

“I said, it’s not because I need you to shop for me.” Logan’s voice shook slightly, but not with anger.

“Then why would you ask me to walk to the store with you for the ‘right garlic’?” he sighed.

Logan raised his head, leaving a cold spot on the left side of Leo’s chest. “Because I want to spend time with you.”

That—was not the answer he had been expecting. You’re better at it, Logan would say. You know the foods better than I do. The realization came in waves; he had been teasing. Joking. Making it a bit. And Leo thought he was dead serious the whole damn time. All the frustration he had built up around himself cam down with a rush and a clatter. His heart made a break for hell with a pit stop at his stomach. He stared into the dark nothingness of the rink break room and tried to remember how to breathe.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“I…” He broke off. Words had gotten him into this mess. Were they both that terrible at communicating properly? Finn bumped his arm and he took the hint (for once), wrapping Logan in a hug. By some miracle, Logan hugged him back. “That is the sweetest fucking thing, and I’m so sorry,” he managed, hoarse. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Logan, that was such a fucked-up thing for me to think.”

“I do actually like you, you know,” Logan said, muffled in his shoulder.

The remnants of Leo’s heart went for another spin through the shredder. “No, I know, I know, I’m so sorry. I like you, too.” He pressed a hard kiss to Logan’s temple and squeezed him tighter. “I like you so much. So much.”

“And I know what kind of garlic you like.”

Tears made Leo’s eyes sting and he violently wished them back. He had no right to cry over this. None at all. “Of course you do.”

Logan scratched lightly between his shoulder blades. “I don’t want to think about the type of people that made you think I’d do that, though. But if you want to give me names and addresses…”

Leo laughed weakly and felt Finn huff against him. “No, none of that,” Leo said with a kiss to Logan’s messy curls. He kissed his cheek, too, and his lips for good measure. Slow and easy, the way they both liked it. He wanted to make sure Logan was paying attention. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “You did nothing wrong. I love you so, so much and I never should have thought that about you.”

In the hallway, the whir of generators kicked up. Soft light cast Logan in gold and dull shadows, just enough to make out the conflicted look on his face. His thumb was rough against Leo’s jaw. “I wish you thought better of yourself,” he said quietly. “You’re fun to be around, even walking to the store.”

I wish I had thought better of you. Leo pulled him close without a word and caught Finn’s gaze over Logan’s shoulder. His expression told him everything he needed to know, and he shut his eyes as Finn’s arms came around them both. A kiss lingered just above his ear. Leo kind of wanted to cry all over again.

The generators were a masterpiece of mechanics. The emergency switch flipped the moment the building lost power from the main grid, pooling energy around the rink itself to keep the ice solid. The rest of the lights would come on within fifteen to twenty minutes, beginning with the stadium seats and ending with the more fringe areas, like locker room and kitchens. They were top of the line, the best you could buy for a massive space that relied heavily on electricity to keep it functional.

They were no match for the Lions.

Ice cream, popsicles, and enough beer to cover the team twice over were liberated from the various refrigerators in less than five minutes. The team gathered on the floor of the locker room with iPhone flashlights and glowsticks (also ‘borrowed’ from the adjacent rooms) to enjoy their haul in peace and to play stupid, silly games like middle schoolers at a sleepover. They played games for a living, for crying out loud. Their favorite game. Why on earth would they take it too seriously when an opportunity like this presented itself?

Equal cheers and groans went up when the lights came back on. Moody was the first to leave, having only stuck around that long because the space outside his office door was occupied with an apparently necessary conversation. Arthur was next. The general consensus among the players was that the weather was simply too bad to risk driving. For their safety, they should stay and enjoy their goodies.

The morning security shift found them right where Arthur left them, puppy-piled by their stalls and surrounded by joyous havoc.

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shdo-xplosion · 1 year

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11. 💙 QUID PRO QUO - k. bakugou

power imbalance, manipulation, coercion, forced blow job. this actually turned a little darker than i planned, so sorry! in fact, to be safe, i’m going to call this non-con.

@touyatodorokislut’s event ask!

Doing this right behind the police station probably isn’t a great idea, but Bakugou can’t help himself, especially with the threat of never running into you again hanging over his head.

You’re so cute, still visibly shaken by the attempted villain attack that Bakugou had saved you from. He was only too happy to go to the station with you after all was said and done, give report to Tsukauchi while reassuring you that you were safe. It was all over.

Little did you know the plans he had for you. Or the hard on he’s been hiding since picking you up off the ground and carrying you to safety.

He can’t remember the last time he’d felt such a primal attraction to someone so quickly—without knowing anything about them. But something about you has him short of breath and hot all over.

So he ushers you into the alley after the report is written up, sweet talks you for a little bit, and then lowers his voice.

“That rescue was pretty taxing, ya know. Kinda feels like you owe me one.”

You laugh quietly, but Bakugou can tell you’re nervous. Whether it’s because of the attack or the dark or him looming over you, he’s not sure.

“Yeah, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up,” you admit. “If I could tip you for saving me I would, but…”

“You don’t gotta give me money,” he snickers.

“Well, I’m a pretty good cook!” you try. “I can drop off some food at your agency, make you and your sidekicks lunch for a few days?”

Fuck, you’re adorable. And naive. It makes Bakugou’s dick twitch.

“Nah, that’s okay. We all stay pretty well fed.”

You blink at him, apprehensive when you ask, “what… what can I do for you then? As a thank you…” He thinks you have a vague idea of where this might be going, so maybe you’re not as innocent as he thought.

“Nothing much. Just help me unwind after a long shift.”

You gulp. He smirks.

“I, um… I don’t really know what…”

Bakugou takes a step toward you, his voice all gravel when he suggests (more like commands), “how ‘bout you get on your knees for me?”

Your eyes are wide, a glimmer of fear lighting them up brighter than any of the street lamps.

“Come on, sweetheart. I’ll make it quick.”

“But, I—my boyfriend…”

“He doesn’t have to know. And remember… you owe me,” he grins, slowly beginning to unbuckle his belt.

Bottom lip trembling, you stare at him for a little longer as if you can change his mind with nothing more than a look, but when Bakugou doesn’t budge you nod to yourself, take your cardigan off to lay on the asphalt, then kneel on it. Smart. Your knees will be bruised, but at least they won’t be bloody.

You wet your lips when Bakugou pulls his throbbing cock free, and when he guides his tip into your waiting mouth he can feel that it’s dry with panic. Doesn’t matter. One sudden thrust just a little too deep makes you gag, saliva immediately pooling into your mouth.

“There we go, that’s a good pet.”

Tears are already gathering at your waterline, falling when Bakugou starts moving his hips. He puts a rough hand on the back of your head to hold you in place so that he can set his own pace. He alternates between shorter thrusts that make the ridge of his cock pop in and out of your lips, putting pressure just where he likes it, and fucking deep enough for his tip to slide into your tight throat.

You feel so good, muscles constricting when you gag on his length. Drool leaks from the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin. The sound is what’s really getting him off, though, the lewd schlick schlick like music to Bakugou’s ears. In and out, in and out, harder, faster—he’s using both hands to hold your head now, hips pistoning as he feels the white heat growing inside of him.

“Feel so good, taking my cock like a pro,” he grunts. Pro is a loose term, though. You’re struggling just like everyone else does, shoulders heaving with gags every time he pushes in too deep. Your whole face is drenched now, spit and tears and Bakugou’s own pre he keeps wiping on your lips.

“M’about to cum,” he warns. “You gonna be good an’ swallow for me? Be my biggest fan, yeah?”

He holds your head tightly as he climaxes, groaning and shoving his cock deeper into your throat. He can feel you try to pull back, but he won’t let you, and he feels your throat tighten around him as you’re forced to swallow.

“Good, good, drink it all, baby.”

And, you do. Every last drop until Bakugou is spent. He pulls out of your mouth with a huff, falling back against the wall as you scramble to your feet.

After you wipe your face as best you can, you glare at him and spit, “do me a favor and never save me again.”

event masterlist ✿

#doves welcome event ✿#bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #tw coercion #bnha x reader #tw dark content #tw noncon

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marthammasters · 3 months

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@revenge-of-the-assbutt @firstaidspray @sachermorte thank u for enabling me NEWAY since I’ve been too dead to do any of my own hobbies here’s some thoughts on House & Co’s physical hobbies/lil crafts & such they do in the comfort of their home<3:

House: canonically does a ton of shit like piano/guitar/cooking/so on but In the spirit of him resisting change (At Times!) I think he’s gotten very good if not makes a fun time out of mending clothes🥺…. Didn’t wanna throw away his favorite shirts so it started w small hems+resizings until he looked up more tips online and get decorative w it. Pretty contrasting colors/patterns now randomly laid on his shirts and pants w only the careful eye(Cuddy+Wilson) to notice. If anyone cares

Wilson: gardening. Well as much one can do within his apartments/pretty nonplant friendly homes. He’s not a super greenthumb expert but it always gives him a lil confidence boost when he’s able to grow out spices and herbs & such to use in his cooking ♥️

Cuddy: she seems like a collage-making kind of girlie💗💗 no specific theme in em or anything but she still holds onto the potential self-aid of making vision boards and it’s relaxing for her to go thru magazines/etc + cut out whatever interests her enough to use. Rachel tries and cutely fails to help 💓💓💓

Chase: ironically enough for the prodigal son lol but . He genuinely seems like someone who enjoys spending time in silence/music doing puzzles w 1000+ pieces & such #DWEEB❤️. House once got him a 5000 piece puzzle of a kangaroo or w/e as a joke and he is Determined to complete it. In due time chase…

Foreman: the thought of Foreman crocheting is so dear to me….. he doesn’t rly tell anyone ab it but there’s a lot of half-finished + worn projects as proof around his home. #angsting it sorry but I think he took it up after his mom started deteriorating bc she crocheted too and it was a fonder reminder + sumn they could do together. One yr he gave the fellow ducklings scarves he made as Xmas gift. Not that he told him he made it tho😅#repressed

Cameron: I think she has a moderately sized zen garden on a table somewhere in her home she takes SERIOUS. Changes the lines/circles in the sand periodically, sees what new arrangement of rocks she can do etc etc. Girl that thing is meant to be relaxing!! also colorcodes/sticker-covers/etc her planner like a CHAMP.

Amber: she has the most well-detailed prettiest most concerning-when-read journal/diary everrrr. Dedicates a specific time in every day to it w specific pens of various colors. Some of the recounting even have lil doodles or if she takes the journal out w her she draws her view wherever she is<3 they’re literal chickenscratch but its still fun and fulfilling. It’s a bibleesque piece to Wilson’s Amber shrine btw

Thirteen: she’s hard to analyze for me soz 13heads I do love her #trust… nonetheless I bet she goes to hella dance classes. Partially for the exercise partially for the fun partially for the need to experience Life partially for the women. Heh. She’s rly into zumba, jazz, contemporary classes to be specific.

Taub: ok ok so remember when he did/bought pottery or w/e to convince his wife he was being faithful. I think he’d do it for real as a joke/alibi then be like wait…. This is kinda fun…? There’s no constraints to what he can make + the sculpting reminds him vaguely of plastic surgery work so he keeps it up.

Kutner: I think he draws + writes his own lil comics/zines 🫶 they’re mostly scifi or superhero and more than a lil inspired by his fave preexisting medias . He likes using the crazy cases he’s experienced w House as story inspo. Also he 4 sure runs dnd campaigns so well and fun. Btw

Masters: she’s a suckerrrr for trivia nights my lil nerd wife<3 but um anyway when she wants to relax she Really doesn’t want sumn that can become info overload so in free time she’ll make friendship bracelets, lil shapes/figures out of string, etc. Will someone please give this woman a full on loom to go cray with!!!!

Park: I can see it so clearly . I can see her lil handpainted warhammer and other tabletop game figures so perfectly in my head. She paints more than she actually plays(but she does !). God save you if you touch or tumble them.

Adams: I kinda DGAF about her sorry women… hmm there’s sumn compelling ab her doing blackout poetry plus occasionally full-on written when the inspo hits! started as a boredom thing in her job in the prison w whatever book she brought in then she kept on doing it w more and more written pieces she comes across.

I put so much time into this. Perhaps too much.😭feel free to gimme y’all’s thoughts on this/ur own ideas :3

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aldryrththerainbowheart · 8 months

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Ehh... Hello again! Last time my request was kinda incomplete, I think... I re-read what I needed to write... so, can I please get a warm Vergil x fem! Reader about baking sweets? I suck at writing when it's not a fic, I'm so sorry 😭

I gotchu fam👍

"Dearest, are you sure the recipe said egg whites only?"

Vergil was standing in the middle of the kitchen with a lost expression, dressed in an apron that said 'do NOT kiss the cook' and a wooden spoon in hand. Not soon after he got back into the human world, Vergil realized that he no longer had to sustain himself on demon guts and instead he had a wide variety of human foods to choose from. Thanks to you, he learned that he can just make any food he wants to with the right ingredients. So, with every holiday his valiant efforts at cooking came with vengeance. You had to admit that Vergil made a lot of progress from putting a can of butane right on the stove (good god) to making simple palatable dishes. You still haven't left him in the kitchen alone though.

"Yup." You put a piece of caramel crisp in your mouth and walked around him to point at the paragraph in the book.

"You make a snow out of egg whites and then slowly *carefully*" you give him a poignant look he chooses to ignore, "you mix it in the batch."

"Very well then," Vergil grabbed eggs from the refrigerator, "and how do we make this snow exactly"

You whipped out a hand mixer from one of the cabinets and Vergil scrunched his nose at it.

"It looks like a torture device."

He made quick work of the eggs and there were almost no eggshells in the bowl (this pie will be really crunchy). Soon, there was a fluffy cloud resting in the mixing bowl.

"Remember to mix it in slowly."

"I have trekked the ground of hell with nothing but my sword, I think I know how to follow a simple instruction." Vergil sniffed haughtily.

You raised your hands amused and decided to plop on the kitchen sink to watch him fuss with the mixing bowl. At that moment, you were struck by the domesticity of the moment. You would never imagine that you would ever feel relaxed in the presence of Vergil Sparda. Then again, it was thanks to the genuine effort he put into building connections with everyone around him. Whatever happened with Dante in the Underworld, he changed. And now he was making pumpkin pie in your kitchen with a concentrated pout on his face.

"This is nice." You heard yourself say.

"Hm?" Vergil hummed in question as he put the baking tray in the oven.

You vaguely gestured over the room. "This, y'know? Baking, talking, spending time with you..." Then, to busy your hands, you grabbed a can of whipped cream a sprayed some in your mouth.

Vergil finally turned his eyes from the oven to you and with a small smile at your stuffed face, sat on the kitchen sink next to you.

"Half the reason why I decided to learn how to cook is because you are the one showing me how. And I suspect the reason you're helping me is so you can eat everything in sight."

Instead of an answer, Vergil got a splurt of whipped cream on his face. With deep laughter, he fought with you over the can until he finally managed to get it from your hands.

"No more cream for you."

Taking it as a challenge, you took his face in your hands and licked the cream from his cheek.

"You're impossible," Vergil grumbled as he felt his face reddening.

"I know." You whispered back and kissed the tip of his nose.

#vergil x reader #dmc vergil #vergil dmc #devil may cry vergil #vergil devil may cry #vergil x you #rainbow dragon writes #spardatober

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average-submas-enthusiast · 2 months

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My Experience with Wilbur Soot

So, the Wilbur Soot situation. This is mostly going to be me ranting abt the whole situation, so don't keep reading if you don't care.

I mostly just had to type this out and post it so I can vent and (hopefully) get over Wilbur Soot.

Wilbur supporters DNI

I've been a fan of Wilbur's for a long time, I believe the first time I watched him was in January 2021. Initially, I just knew him from Technoblade's (Rest in Power, king) videos, but after a while, he kinda grew into his own thing for me.

I wasn't huge into Dream Smp as it came out, as most of the time I couldn't tune in for personal reasons.

I started seriously watching it in September of 2021 if I remember correctly. It soon became a hyperfixation of mine. I knew basically every crumb of lore like the back of my hand, and I loved what Wilbur did for both the server and its stories. I still do, to an extent, as the Dream SMP is still really near and dear to my heart.

Then, Lovejoy’s Pebble Brain album came out. Previously, I had no idea Wilbur had started a band, so it was a surprise to be sure, but a welcome one. So when I tell you that that album had been my single favorite album of all time up until this point, you better believe it. I spent hours listening to the songs, over and over again, whether it was on a good day or a bad one, I always had a small comfort.

After about a year or so, I fell out of MCYT again. I still kept up with it occasionally, mostly just watching Tommy and Wilbur.

Frankly, before Tuesday, I hadn't even thought about Wilbur Soot since about 2 months ago. So, when all of a sudden, I saw he was trending on here, I was somewhat excited. I thought he had announced a new project or something. So, I clicked on the hashtag.

I am truly disgusted by Wilbur Soot's actions. To think, someone who I personally looked up to, did such horrendous actions is horrifying to me.

A part of me feels almost ashamed that I didn’t see it, that any signs in the past of Will being a bad person I swept under the rug, choosing to ignore it because “He was young'' or “He said he was sorry”. However, I have since realized that I COULDN’T know what was going on behind the scenes. I only saw his persona, the mask he put on when he streamed or was recording. TBH, this situation has really affected me, if me writing such a long post about the situation didn't tip you off already.

And worst of all was his "apology”. I first learned about this situation on Tuesday, about 3 hours before he made his public “apology”. When I read it, at first I was semi-satisfied, because he claimed he was/had gone to therapy and felt his previous actions were “slobish, disrespectful, and selfish”. I felt like he had downplayed his actions, but that overall he had felt bad and was seeking help.

Then, I realized a ton of things were wrong with it. Not only did he downplay his actions, he completely skipped over like 75% of it, he also JUST DIDN'T SAY SORRY. He somewhat vaguely apologized, if you turn your head and squint, but the words “I'm sorry” never appear in the text.

With all these things coming together, plus all the reactions by creators that have met him IRL/talked to him in private, I can't in good conscience support Wilbur Soot. Whether it be in music, youtube, twitch, whatever, I just can’t. I have removed all of both his and Lovejoy’s songs from my streaming playlists, and have pirated a small few that I’ve used as comfort music. I plan on eventually fully cutting him and his work out entirely, but I need a little time to adjust. I feel bad for not supporting Lovejoy, as there are other members than Will, but I feel it is the best course of action unless they fully remove him from both the band and the cash flow.

Hopefully reading through my experience has helped anybody else who has felt a familiar experience to me. I truly hope Wilbur gets the help he needs, he is a messed up individual, and needs psychological help.

Small note: Please, don't tell Wilbur to kill himself, while his actions were bad, that's not an excuse to tell somebody to end their own life. His actions were horrible, but verbally assaulting someone online is not a reasonable reaction to this situation.

Go support Shubble. She's very brave to talk about her experiences. Support SA victims. Go support both Tommy and Phil, Tommy has most likely been a victim of his manipulation and abuse and Phil is a close friend of his that most likely feels betrayed and hurt by his close friend’s actions.

I don't really have anything else to say, so bye everyone, stay safe and vigilant.

#wilbur soot #mcyt #shubble #tommyinnit #sa mention #SA

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shewreckz · 1 year

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Interview

Shannon: So let me get things straight...

Shannon: You graduated from Tastyville High around five years ago, correct?

Mindy: Oh my gosh, that was five years ago already? Geez, that means I'm already getting old. I don’t have any white hairs, do I?

Shannon: Uhh...no? I don't think so. But that's not really important. I just need to ask you a few simple questions about your high school. It won't take longer than a few minutes.

Mindy: Oh, totally! I can give you aaaaalll the juicy gossip. I was friends with, like, everyone so I know everyone's dirty secrets! Don't tell anyone I told you any of this, though. Soooo...what do you wanna hear. Crushes? Breakups? HEARTBREAK??

Shannon: Well, we don't really write about gossip at Nowtime News, but uh...thank you for the offer?

Shannon: All I need you to do is look through this year book photo and name all the people you see, alright?

Mindy: Oh. My. Gosh! This brings back so many old memories!

Mindy: I remember this like it was yesterday! There’s actually a whole story behind this photo, y’know?

Mindy: So basically Sue and Timm were having this huge fight because Timm is so nonconfrontational and a pussy about everything and it was kinda like creating this huge rift in the friend group and then people were taking sides and stuff like Cecilia thought Sue was being too harsh on Timm but then Indigo totally agreed with Sue but then Mary thought Sue was being too harsh but she didn't really wanna say anything cause she had this massive obvious crush on her at the time and-

Shannon: MINDY!! Like I said, I don't write about gossip! I just need to know if you know them or not!!

Mindy: Ok geeeeez, sorry!!

Mindy: Yeah, so like, that's me, that's Indigo, Timm, Cecilia, Sue, Mary, James, Connor, and...

Mindy: Uh...

Shannon: What? What is it?

Mindy: That's...uhhhmmm...uh. Gosh, I know everyone, how come I don't remember this guy's name?

Mindy: Wait, wait, don't tell me, it's on the tip of my tongue! Ok...that's....Wesley? No. William? It starts with a w, right? Am I close?

Shannon: ...Not even remotely

Mindy: No wait I totally got this! It was an f name, right? Ferdinand? Francisco? Wait...was it Finley? Yes, that's totally it, isn't it? He looks like a Finley!

Shannon: Mindy, do you know the guy or are you just guessing random names??

Mindy: Sigh...ok. I don't know him. I think I vaguely remember seeing him around, but...that's it.

Shannon: Are you sure? Is there really no information you can give me about him?

Mindy: Well...I guess there is one thing...

Mindy: I never spoke to him, but whenever I switched classes, we'd pass each other occasionally on the way to seventh period

Mindy: And sometimes, I'd look back at him. And he'd look back at me.

Mindy: He had this creepy vacant stare. Like he wasn't really there at all.

Mindy: Or maybe his glasses were just really fogged up, or something.

Mindy: But uh, apart from that, nothing else really comes to mind. Sorry!

Shannon: ...Hm. Interesting.

Shannon: Well, alright. I think that's all I needed to know. Thank you, Mindy.

Mindy: Awww, you have to go already? But I didn't even get to tell you about the time that Sue broke a guy's nose because he looked at Mary weird! Or the time that-

Shannon: Oh wow! Look at the time! So much important reporter stuff I have to do. Which is very urgent and needs to be taken care of immediately. Okbyethanks.

Just as I suspected...no friends, no connections, nothing. It lines up with the testimonies of everyone else I interviewed, but that's what makes it all the more puzzling. Why do all of the personal anecdotes of his life completely contradict all the evidence I've come across? If he's lying about certain aspects of his past, is it possible that he's lying about more things as well? And most importantly, what is he getting out of this? Are these simple white lies, or do they conceal a more sinister truth that he doesn't want me to uncover?

Whoever you are "Moe"...I'm going to get to the bottom of this.

#flipline #flipline studios #papa louie #flipline shannon #flipline mindy #flipline moe #soda's art

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geminijade · 4 months

Text

Calamity, Catastrophe and Calliope Chapter Four:

A/N: Y/N/N is Your Nickname. Parental angst. Slight talk of bdsm. Descriptions of sex acts/public sex. Mentions of boobies, lol. That's about it, I'm pretty sure. Any and all mistakes are my own.

A vague disclaimer is nobody's friend: MINORS DO NOT ENTER. Everyone else: happy reading!! Hearts, likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!! Enjoy 😉

Clarence doesn't look happy with me as he glances at me in the rear view mirror.

"I don't know about this, Y/N/N. Your parents wouldn't approve of me not checking things out first."

I lean forward and put my hand on his shoulder. "Oh, come on, Clarence. Kali and I are just hanging out and watching scary movies. How much trouble could we possibly get into?"

He gives me a pointed look and tries to look stern but the smile in his eyes gives him away.

It makes me a bit sad that I'm closer to my protection team than I am my own father. Clarence really cares about me beyond his job. Ever since he started working for my family, I found a special place for him in my heart. He always knows the right thing to say or do to make my worst days better. It helps that he has a daughter my age. He remembers all of my courses that I've taken. He knows who my favorite singer is. Hell, he even has my Starbucks order memorized. My father is too preoccupied with running the country to even care about those things. We're strangers to each other and I can't remember a time when Clarence was a stranger to me.

"Pretty please," I use my sweetest voice. "I need girl time, and it's kinda embarrassing being followed around. We're just going to be hanging out at her house."

He softens, "Okay, that's fine. But I'm not leaving. I'll keep Louis company in the guard shack. I'll be here if you need anything at all."

I throw my arms around him and I kiss his cheek. "You're the best, Clarence."

He playfully shrugs me off. "Get out of here before I change my mind."

I grab my overnight bag and jump out of the back of the car and make my way up the paved stone walkway of Kalista Hartford's house. Kali's father is a wealthy lawyer who my father just appointed as his new Attorney General.

We met last year on the campaign trail and we became instant besties. Unlike the rest of the DC Brat Club, she's definitely more interested in having fun than being seen with very important people who want to be written about in trashy magazines. Kali is a bold and unapologetic breath of fresh air in my boring and controlled life.

"Where's Captain Kink?"

I smile at the nickname we came up with for Bucky and she lets me in. "He has the night off, Clarence is taking over his shift and he's joined your security detail in the guard shack."

Her shoulders slump as she closes the door behind me and I laugh as I say "so sorry to disappoint."

"Zip it. You know that I love you. I can't lie though. I was really looking forward to seeing Bucky." She leans against the door and sighs wistfully. "That man is sin in a suit."

I try to act nonchalantly and shrug. "Whatever tickles your pickle."

I don't like her talking about Bucky that way. I feel irritated. I shouldn't care, but after last night and Bucky's rapid mood change, I don't know where things stand between us. Does he truly want me or am I a convenience to him? I'm starting to think that it's the latter.

"We're not staying here tonight. We're going to celebrate your newfound freedom. There's this awesome club downtown that you have to see to believe."

I cross my arms and look at her. "How exactly are we going to get past my guard and your guard at the gate?"

Kali steps toward me and puts her arm in mine. "Oh, my poor sheltered bestie. You have a lot to learn. Houses often have two exits for a reason, ya know?" She tips my chin up. "Go upstairs and we'll get you all gussied up. I've got a killer red dress that you'll look amazing in. The men will be dropping at your feet. Guaranteed."

I force myself to smile and follow her upstairs. Kali doesn't know it yet, but there is only one man who I want on his knees. I've been fantasizing about Bucky for months but tonight is about the other fish in the sea.

I step out of the cab and look up at an abandoned looking building. "I thought that you said that we're going to a club?"

Kali smiles at me. "We are. C'mon." She beckons for me to follow her and I hesitate when I see her take the steps that lead underground. "Hurry up, we don't want to be seen."

I follow her reluctantly. "Where are we going? Seriously Kali this is a scene from some slasher flick. Some random person is going to find our rotted, dismembered corpses at the bottom of a dumpster somewhere."

That causes her to burst into laughter as she reaches the bottom of the stairs. "Settle down, Ms. Dramatic and get your tight ass down here." She's standing on a landing before a metal door that is so rusted we're definitely going to need tetanus shots after this.

As I finally reach the landing I noticed a high tech looking scanner attached to the wall next to the door. Before I can ask Kali how we're going to gain access without any access cards, she slides a shiny black card into the slot. The red light turns green and I hear a loud click as the door unlocks itself.

She opens up the door and looks back at me. "Please keep an open mind, okay?"

An open mind? This is going to be good.

I follow behind Kali, trying to prepare myself for whatever I might see. The second that I step in the door I am speechless. Black satin covers the walls from floor to ceiling. White leather furniture as far as the eye can see. The lounge area is next to the bar which is sleek and modern. Stools line up in front of the bar which is made of intricately designed mahogany. Flickering lights draw my attention up to a massive chandelier with it's dangling crystals bouncing light off of the walls. This posh club with it's seedy exterior is unlike anything that I've ever seen before. My mind can't make sense of it.

"What is this place?" I see a group of girls standing by the bar. "And why are we all wearing red?"

She gives me a wicked smile and takes me by my wrist and pulls me through the crowd. "You'll see."

Bucky's POV:

The alluring smells of leather and sex fills the air. I take a deep breath and savor the exotic aromas as they invade my senses bringing back memories of desire.

Fuck, it's been way too long since I've stepped foot into this place.

I'm eager to sate my sexual appetite as I settle in the leather booth and scan the dimly lit room. Tonight I'll find a willing submissive who can handle me. It's all about body language. One by one, I eliminate the girls who are standing in my line of sight, some look familiar and some don't.

Too weak.

Too inexperienced.

Too needy.

I'm being picky because I know that it's going to be nearly impossible to find what I'm looking for. Nothing short of a mind blowing fuck will make me forget about Y/N.

I find myself fantasizing about Y/N, one of the dozens I've created about her when the music reverberates throughout the room. The sexual energy is palpable and it thrums through my veins. I'm fucking half hard, and all I've done is think about the one girl I can't get out of my head.

Across the room, a bright light flashes behind a sheer curtain, revealing a sensual silhouette of a woman arching up off of a table. She's bucking her body like a wild animal, as she's pushed to her limits.

The long curtain drops to the floor and the crowd falls quiet. A naked brown haired woman is laid spread eagle on a table, a rapt expression on her face. A man enters the room, wearing a pair of tight leather pants. He holds a braided leather riding crop in his right hand.

He's pacing back and forth, teasing her body with the tip of the whip until she's trembling. She tenses as she accepts his punishment. He doesn't give her a chance to recover. The longer that I watch the exhibition,the harder my dick gets. If I don't get to release my pent up energy soon, I'm going to lose my fucking mind.

I down my drink and wipe my mouth and see two girls enter the club,both dressed in red. In the real world red means stop, but within these walls red is the color of availability.

I fixate on the bombshell wearing the skimpy red dress. I drink her in with a groan at how short her dress is clinging to her tight body. She's too far away to see her face but it doesn't matter. Looking like she does, she won't be alone for long and my patience is all but gone.

I slide out of my booth and I pursue her to make my claim. I maneuver throughout the masses of people, I quickly reach her side and her friend is nowhere to be found. She's all mine for the taking.

I step in behind her and gently grab her hip. "Wanna play?" Her hair whips against my face as she turns around. My heart drops to my feet.

Y/N?

Her eyes widen, from shock or fear I can't tell. Her breasts are almost spilling out of her dress. She has my cock fully hard.

"What are you doing here?" We ask at the same time.

I narrow my eyes. "Irrelevant. How in the fuck did you even get in here?"

Y/N pretends to think about it. "I used the front door. "

I'd do anything to knock the sass out of her and bend her over my knee. "Do not play dumb with me, Y/N."

"Last time I checked you are a civilian right now. You don't get to tell me what to do."

I yank her against me and I settle my hand on the small of her back. My thoughts are scattered all over the room as soon as I feel her pressed against me. I have a new plan and I'm about to show her.

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