#Multi Part Fic

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Sibling Bonding (Part 5)

Masterpost

Danny went to bed early that night, shooing Damian out of his room and setting up the galaxy projector Bruce had bought him. Laying on his bed under the images of stars he relaxed, tracing them slowly with his eyes to memorize them. Tomorrow he would compare the projection to the pictures in his books to find out if it was really correct and if not he’d make the adjustments when he put up his own glow in the dark stars. Dick was coming back to visit tomorrow as well, hopefully he’d arrive early enough Danny could enlist his help putting them up, he couldn’t exactly reach the ceiling on his own after all. Not without considerable suspicion anyway.

He was looking forward to it! He hugged his alien plush to his chest and fell asleep without turning the nightlight off.

His dreams found him floating, drifting in a void before he heard a distant but urgent call. He flipped over, urging himself towards the sound till he was surrounded once more by toxic green light and ever more urgent need but also safety. It protected him, but it needed him. It showed him portals of swirling green into a realm of infinite doors, floating islands, and stars, it beckoned him home, a bright beacon to follow, all he needed to do was follow the lines and open a portal. The call made it seem so easy but even in his sleep Danny knew it wasn’t so! If he answered the call it would take years! Did they have years? Maybe, time didn’t have much meaning to such a powerful, ancient, mindless force, it could be centuries or weeks.

Danny started awake with a haggard gasp, twitching with imaginary aftershocks of the lightning that had raced through his body when he’d first died. He breathed in, and out, and his breath out tingled with cold on his tongue. He swallowed thickly and leaned over, knocking a familiar rhythm on the wall between his and Damian’s room. After a long moment the knock was returned and Danny slid out of bed, padding out of his own room and down the hall a little to slip into Damian’s. He avoided his brother’s traps with ease of practice and locked the door behind him before going to slip into his twin’s bed.

“Nightmare?” Damian murmured softly, shifting closer and reaching out to hold Danny’s wrist.

“Yes,” Danny sighed softly, closing his eyes.

“About the pits?” Damian asked and Danny hummed an affirmative.

“I hoped once we were so far away I’d stop hearing the call,” He admitted, feeling Damian’s fingers twitch around his wrist. Danny had only mentioned the call a couple of times before. “I hoped it wouldn’t be able to reach me here, but I still hear it.”

“What does it want,” Damian asked softly.

Danny sighed and closed his eyes more tightly, biting his lip as he considered that. “It wants me to come home, it says it needs me.”

“It wants you to go back?... Back into the pit?” Damian asked sounding scared, Danny should have thought about how that sounded.

“Yes. But I’m not going to listen to it,” He promised softly. “We have to stick together after all, right?” He got a hum and a gentle squeeze on his wrist.

“Will you be able to get back to sleep?” Damian asked after a moment of quiet.

“I’ll be fine, go back to sleep Damian. Father will probably take you shopping tomorrow, you should be well rested,” Danny assured his brother, shifting just a little closer. He didn’t think he would be able to go back to sleep if he was honest but Damian should still sleep.

Damian hummed in agreement in a way that said he was already half asleep. Danny settled down again and closed his eyes, but he was afraid that if he went back to sleep he would hear the call again. He didn’t hear it every night, but he heard it regularly, and he didn’t want too. He didn’t think that it was bad, the call sounded like home, it needed him, it was hurt and it needed to be healed. He understood, sort of, that the pit was a wound, and there were many pits, many such wounds. But how? He was too young! Hopefully the experiments on the Lazarus water he was planning to do with father and Tim would help him find how to help.

He lay there in the dark, listening to Damian breath for a long time, thinking about everything and nothing. He finally dozed off but he only slept lightly through the rest of the night and woke up to the sound of footsteps in the hall as Tim left his room. Danny carefully extricated himself from Damian, he couldn’t do it without waking Damian up, they were both too well trained for that, but he could do it without making him panic.

He left the room, closing the door softly, though Tim still turned around at the sound. Danny gave him a little wave and smiled, Tim raised his eyebrows at Danny coming out of his brothers room. Danny shrugged and walked back to his room, he wasn’t really expecting Tim to come back and meet him in the middle.

“Everything okay?” He asked softly and Danny nodded.

“Of course, just a nightmare. I’ll see you at breakfast,” Danny assured before ducking back into his room before he could be asked what his nightmare had been about. He got dressed quickly and headed down to the kitchen, following the sound of soft music to where Alfred was preparing breakfast.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Danny asked, and only the slight hitch in Alfred’s motions betrayed that Danny had startled him. He was going to have to make more effort to make noise as he walked so he wouldn’t startle anyone in the family, he knew was nearly silent when he wasn’t paying attention.

“Do you have any experiencing cooking master Danny?” He asked looking over at the young man with a barely perceptible eyebrow raise.

“Well no,” Danny admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck. “The Demon Head’s Heir’s always had better thing to do,” He said with a little sneer as he imitated his grandfather’s words. “But I would like to learn, and I’m skilled with knives for obvious reason, so if anything needs chopping…” He trailed off with a hopeful look on his face.

“Alright young master, I’ve had to ban half your siblings and your father from the kitchen, but I do try to give every new child a chance,” he agreed. He looked thoughtfully around the kitchen. “Well I’m making oatmeal this morning so there isn’t much I need help with, though I suppose as long as you can be trusted not to injure yourself or others you can help me chop up some fruit for on top.

“You know, I didn’t get to ask before if you or your brother have any dietary requirements or preferences?” He asked as he laid out some washed fruit on a cutting board and handed Danny one of the kitchen knives, watching him intently as he started to cut them up.

“We’re not picky, we were raised eating whatever was available as long as we didn’t suspect it of poison,” Danny said with a bitter little chuckle. “That being said I would certainly prefer not to eat anything with a slimy texture, or with a lot of vinegar. And I think… I think Damian would prefer not to eat meat. But I can’t speak for him obviously, I wouldn’t make changes unless he asks, but if you find a way to drop into conversation that that might be an option with him, I think we’d both appreciate it,” Danny said thoughtfully as he cut up the fruit to Alfred’s satisfaction.

“Thank you for the information master Danny,” Alfred hummed, nodding to himself as he decided Danny actually could be trusted with the knife and went to stir the big pot of oatmeal on the stove, tasting it and adding a little more honey.

“How come he’s not band from the kitchen?” Tim asked from the doorway with his arms crossed and a performative pout.

“I have yet to see any evidence that master Danny will physically injure himself when attempting to help,” Alfred said with a small sniff and Danny couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t worry Tim, I’m sure I’ll get banned soon enough as well,” Danny joked as he poured the chopped strawberries into bowl and moved on to chunking the apples. Alfred grabbed a bag of walnuts and added some to one of the bowls as well as some other potential toppings for the oatmeal.

“If you would like to help, Master Tim, you can begin bringing these bowls out to the kitchen, and set the table,” Alfred directed brusquely, pushing them into Tim’s hands.

“Darn, I should have kept my mouth shut,” Tim said ruefully, but that was his only comment as he started ferrying things to the kitchen and setting the table. When he finished Alfred rewarded him with a mug of coffee Tim gleefully snatched and went to sit down at the same place at the table he had sat in at every meal.

“Is there assigned seating?” Danny murmured to Alfred worriedly, He and Damian hadn’t always sat in the same seats, they hoped they weren’t breaking house rules.

“Not as such,” Alfred said slowly. “But Tim, Bruce, and Cass all find comfort in routine, so they sit in the same places at the table every day. You don’t have to follow the same routine, but I’m sure they would appreciate you not sitting in their seats.”

“That’s good to know, thank you Alfred,” He said with a nod, filing that information away for later. “I’m going to go see if Damian is up and ready for breakfast,” He said, slipping out of the kitchen and trotting up the stairs. He knocked on Damian’s door softly, and got no response. When he opened the door a little, just enough to peek in, Damian wasn’t there and he hadn’t been down in the kitchen or dining room. He must be of snooping, Danny gave a long suffering sigh and went to check the nearest rooms.

He wasn’t overly surprised when he found Damian in Tim’s room but he frowned disapprovingly nonetheless. “Come on Damian, it’s time for breakfast, you don’t want to be caught in here,” He chided, beckoning for Damian to come out.

“I know, usually you would be the one sneaking around to gather intel like this but since you’re shirking that responsibility it falls to me to find out what we need to know,” He sniffed as he ducked back out. Probably just hiding his embarrassment.

“We agreed to wait a while before we acted on anything. So I’m just enjoying being away from the League for a while, you should too,” Danyal said rolling his eyes. “But if you feel that way I’ll have a look around when you go out with father. The fewer people in the house the easier it will be after all.”

Damian harumphed but nodded, with that settled they were quiet the rest of the way down to breakfast, finding Bruce had come down. Danny sat down at the table, Damian sat across from rather then next to him this morning. Cass was the last person to join them that morning and the Alfred started bringing out the oatmeal for them.

“So I mentioned yesterday today I’m planning to take Damian out to get clothes and whatnot,” Bruce said once he’d folded up his newspaper and set it aside. “But before we go out I’d like to have an little meeting with both of you in my office, it’s nothing bad I promise. We just need to talk about how we’re going to handle introducing both of you to the general public.”

“Yes father,” The twins said automatically and in unison, the same way they would respond to grandfather or mother. Danny sighed and ran a hand back through his hair, he didn’t like that automatic response.

Tim seemed to think it was amusing, until he saw the expression on Cass face, who clearly understood the implications, then he frowned. Cass had been raised in the league too after all, Danny wasn’t sure if that made him want to bond with her or avoid the hell out of her.

To change the subject Tim started to talk about the tests he wanted to do now that they had access to some of the Lazarus Water. Danny leaned forward, joining in with the conversation, bouncing ideas back and forth till Bruce had to join in to reign them in a little bit when it was obvious the two of them would go overboard if left on their own. Danny kept his expression blank and didn’t pout about that, though it did worry him that they might not be able to find out what he needed to know under their father’s limitations.

Once they finished breakfast they stacked their dishes out of habit, Tim and Bruce trying it as well though they did a worse job then the twins. They just needed more practice, it was obvious they could be good at just about anything they applied themselves to.

“Alright, come up to my office with me please,” Bruce beckoned to his two youngest sons, leading the way up to his large office with the grandfather clock. He sat behind his desk and gestured to the seats across from him, Danny and Damian settled in the fairly comfortable chairs. Danny wondered briefly if Bruce might switch them out for less comfortable chairs if he ever had to have a meeting here with someone that he liked less.

“This was in the paper this morning,” Bruce said, handing the paper he’d been reading over to them. It wasn’t the front page with ho many rogue attacks Gotham had, but it was close, a big article with a blurry picture of Bruce and Danny. “There’s really no point denying I have a new ward given how many clothes I was buying Danny. And by tonight they’ll know about both of you, though there will be some chatter about whether you’re the same person,” He chuckled resting his elbows on the desk and lacing his fingers together.

“I don’t want that, and I also don’t ant to funny expose either of you to the media yet. So my plan is to do a press conference announcing both of your existence, as my biological sons,” He inclined his head to Damian who preened a little. “I only found out about both of you recently when you came to live with me, but you came from a bad home and you’ll need more time to settle in before being exposed to the masses. I’ll sign you up for school starting next semester, so in about 4 months. And a month or so before that we’ll start easing you in to going a couple of galas and controlled interviews so the novelty of you existing has worn off some before being integrated with your peers.”

“They won’t be our peers, they’re civilians. They will not be on our level,” Damian scoffed crossing his arms over his chest. “But your plan is acceptable, though I would much prefer to be home-schooled. I’m sure we’re leagues ahead of the other children our age who weren’t put through such rigorous training,” He said with a disdainful sniff.

“You probably are academically but it would help you to socialize with people your own age, if only to sure up your secret identity if you want to join me in the field. We can’t have anyone making connections between either of you and Batman after all,” Bruce pointed out. Damian tilted his head to the side a little as he considered and then nodded, accepting their father’s reasons.

“Would you like to help me write the initial announcement about the two of you?” Bruce asked the two of them.

“I would like that,” Danny said quickly, Damian nodded along.

“Alright, we’ll have to do that tomorrow because I don’t want to start my shopping trip with Damian too late, but I will call you both back in here tomorrow so we can write the speech and I can schedule the press conference.” He looked at them both, waiting for their confirmation before he nodded and stood. “Good, that was all I needed to talk to both of you about for now. Are you ready to go out Damian?” He asked looking at the green eyes twins.

“Yes, of course,” Damian agreed, getting up from his chair, hands folded politely behind his back.

“Good, you’ll be alright Danny?” Bruce asked and Danny gave their father a crooked smile and nodded.

“Of course I will, I’ll try to bond with Tim, and maybe Dick some depending when he arrives today,” Danny agreed easily.

“Hm, like Damian did yesterday?” He asked eyeing the younger twin with a disapproving frown, Damian winced. “Yes I know about that, we’ll be talking about it later,” Bruce told Damian firmly, making Danny wince as well.

“No, not like Damian did,” Danyal assured, softly and a little guilty because it felt to some degree like he was throwing his brother under the bus. Should he do something to get himself in trouble to take the attention off of Damian? It wouldn’t be the first time but… he didn’t really want to this time. “I hope you have a good day!” He said, waving to his brother and father before ducking out and going to go find Tim in his bedroom. The door was partially open but Danny knocked on it anyway to alert Tim to his presence.

“Hey, are you busy?” Danny asked, tilting his head a little. The wary look Tim gave him could only be a result of whatever Damian had done yesterday and Danny had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from wincing.

“No,” Tim drawled, his sharp eyes watching Danny’s movements, his shoulders tensed in case he needed to defend himself.

“In that case I was hoping you’d show me how to play some of you video games?” He requested, edging inside Tim’s room. “I think you and I might have similar tastes, but I know very little modern media, and I have nothing else today?” He asked, giving Tim his best puppy dog eyes.

“Uhh sure, I have some work I need to do for Wayne Enterprises and some cases but I can take a break to show you some stuff,” Tim agreed, closing his laptop and getting up. Danny smiled and came further into Tim’s room as he set up one of the gaming systems and perused. “We’ll have to start with something pretty simple till you get the hang of the controls, so a Mario game with multiplayer would be good,” He mused and grabbed a game.

“Sure, sounds good,” Danny agreed with some idea what Mario was, and settled in for a morning of frustration and fun as he tried to get a hang of the controls. He got it pretty well and started to have fun, though after a couple levels he still got tired and they stopped, switching to Tim showing him a movie Danny ‘just had to see' and talking a bit about what Danny should expect when he and Damian were enrolled in school. It was invaluable information really since neither of the twins had ever set foot in a school, Danny would pass on the information later.

When Danny heard a bit of a ruckus downstairs that indicated Dick had arrived he left Tim to his work and went to greet his oldest brother. He trotted downstairs, bracing himself for being hugged before he came around the corner and smiled at Dick. “Hello again,” He said brightly, and was ready for it this time when Dick gasped and rushed over to hug him tightly.

“Hello Danny! It’s good to see you again!” Dick greeted as Danny laughed and patted the older man’s back. “How have you been settling in? Where’s your shadow?” He asked curiously.

“We’ve been settling in alright, Damian is out shopping with father. I went out yesterday, and while we were out I got some glow in the dark stars. I’d like to put them up on my ceiling in he form of the constellations here, but I can’t reach the ceiling…” He trailed off and gave Dick puppydog eyes that made the older man laugh.

“Of course I’ll help you put them up Danny, I can lift you up so you can reach the ceiling no problem,” He assured, putting Danny down and releasing him.

“Thank you!” Danny said, already trotting off towards his bedroom with Dick on his heels. When they reached his room Danny grabbed one of his book of astronomy, opening the book to the two page spread of the night sky. Danny scanned the ceiling quickly, making quick calculations of how the small image would translate to his larger ceiling. “Okay, I’d like to start in the middle and go out in a sort of spiral I think,” He mused as Dick came over to look at the book over his shoulder.

“That makes sense. You really like the stars huh?” He asked, no judgment, just open, good natured curiosity.

“I do! They’re really interesting,” Danny agreed, putting down the book and grabbing the first pack of glow in the dark stars, padding to the center of the room. “Okay, lift me up please?” Danny asked, pointing at the ceiling. Dick saluted with a good-natured laugh, coming over to pick Danny up so he could start arranging the stars. This was going to take hours, but neither of them minded, focusing on the stars the contact bothered Danny much less, and Dick was thrilled to get to bond with his new little brother, and with the excuse to hold him. Sure by the end Dick’s arms were a bit sore from the workout, but that was a small price to pay!

[gothamite-rambler]

Duke Thomas gets added to the payroll

Bruce Wayne (seeing Duke walk past his office): Duke.

Duke backwards walked to Bruce’s office.

Duke: Sup?

Bruce: Did you check your bank account? The direct deposit should’ve hit.

Duke: The what? Oh you were serious about that?

Bruce: Of course, you’re not only my son, but you do work for me and you deserve an income.

Duke: Thanks dude, but I can’t take your money I work at the library.

Bruce: Duke, trust me. You deserve this. I do it for all my kids… except Tim.

Duke: Why not Tim?

Bruce: Long story… he owns part of my company, plus he- he definitely embezzled a lot of my funds before I noticed so him working at my company is his paycheck.

Duke (alarmed): That was him?!

Bruce: Yeah, but that’s not important currently. You enjoy your first payhcheck and I’m proud of you.

Duke: Thanks man.

Duke left the office, checking his phone as he walked to his room. He nearly dropped his phone seeing the four digits in his bank account that had five dollars in it three days ago.

Duke (shocked, happy): Three- Three thousand dollars?! Woooooooo! I’m eating good tonight! No wait, game stop here I come!

Duke ran out the house passing by Stephanie and Jason.

Duke: I can finally buy a PlayStation!

Jason: Wait until he finds out it’s a monthly payment.

Stephanie: I’ll tell him later. Want to go tell Tim about it first?

Jason: 100% yes.

[idstilldancewithu]

Midnight Pleasure | S.R

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Hotchner Reader

Summary: The reader and Spencer's sleep is interrupted in the middle of the night when she gets a call from her ex boyfriend, provoking Spencer to reveal the hidden feelings he's had all along.

Warnings: Spencer gets jealous/possessive over reader, age gap (20/30), soft dom Spence, he calls her baby/pretty girl, slight angst with a happy ending, fingering, fem!receiving, oral, Reid basically eats you out while you’re talking to your ex, Y/N’s ex is a jerk, unprotected sex, possession kink, Reid makes the reader beg, cream pie (kind of), Spencer confesses his feelings, and is bit insecure. Sorry, if I missed anything.

A/N: This is the last part of Forbidden Request. The words in italic represents the reader’s ex speaking to her. English is not my first language. Enjoy!

Word count: 1,121

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist

•••

The sound of my phone ringing woke me up. I declined the call without even looking at the caller ID and went back to cuddling Spencer, careful not to wake him up.

Pressing my body against his, seeking the warmth and comfort only he could bring me.

I clung to him tighter, knowing that the second we stepped foot out of this bed we would go back to being just friends. When the sun rises, this moment will only be a memory imprinted in my brain.

A reminder of what could have been, if Spencer Reid saw me as something more than a twenty year old girl asking her friend to take away her virginity. To him it was only a favor, but to me it meant everything.

My phone rang again snapping me out of my thoughts. I grabbed it, sitting with my knees pulled up out of habit.

"Y/N? It's me, Jeremy." 

"Why are you calling me at two in the morning?" I asked irritably.

Spencer stirred beneath me, his eyes fluttering open with confusion as he reached over to turn on the bedside lap, light filling up the room.

"I miss you."

"Well, I don't." I snapped, slightly raising my voice annoyed that he had the audacity to call me.

"Who is it?" Spencer asked, glancing my way.

"Jeremy" I mouthed. He tensed up at the mention of his name and quickly positioned himself between my legs, spreading them apart, making eye contact with me in the process.

"Look, I'm sorry. Please give me another chance," he begged, his voice reeking with desperation.

"Jeremy, you called me a Prude because I didn't want to have sex with you."

Spencer slowly started leaving a trail of kisses up my leg, making my anger fade away in seconds and my breath deepen.

"Look, I'm sorry, but do you really think another guy is going to want you, knowing that you have zero experience? You have nothing to offer, and you should be thankful that I'm calling you right now."

Spencer's fingertips grazed the sides of my hips, delicately pulling down my underwear, and throwing it on the bedroom floor.

Without any warning he buried his face between my wet folds, flicking his tongue against my clit.

Before I could process what Jeremy was even saying, a moan escaped from my lips.

I let my phone fall from my grasp, gripping Spencer's hair instead and pulling him closer to my heat.

"Y/N, where are you? Are you seriously with another guy right now?" Jeremy’s voice sounded distant and faint.

Spencer pulled away from my glistening cunt, and grabbed the phone that was beside me putting it on speaker phone, pumping two of his finger in and out of my soaking folds.

"Spencer." I whimpered, feeling his fingers reach spots that I couldn't with my own.

"Y/N, answer me," My ex demanded.

"Sorry, Y/N can't come to the phone right now—she's busy." Spencer hanged up and continued fucking me with his fingers, increasing the speed each time.

My cunt started clenching around his fingers, I was close to reaching my peak.

"That's it baby, let go for me." At his command, I came on his fingers making my legs tremble.

He cradled my face with his hands and pressed a consuming kiss to my lips, gently biting my bottom lip.

Spencer broke the kiss by leaving a trail of kisses down my neck, sucking my flesh ensuring that he left marks behind.

Then, he stopped to admire what he had just done, and my disheveled state.

"Get on all fours."

I obeyed and internally smiled with excitement knowing that he was going to ruin me.

He grabbed the ends of hair, pulling my head back. "You look so pretty like this. All ready and willing, just for me to use."

"Spencer." I gasped, clenching around nothing.

Without any warning he buried his throbbing length in me not moving his hips.

Desperately wanting to relief the tension in between my legs, I arched my back and moved backwards.

But, he grabbed my hips, ensuring I couldn't move an inch. “If you want me to move you're gonna have to beg."

"Please, I need you. Please—move,” I croaked out.

"Just cause you asked so nicely” he said, while driving into me with abandon.

"Do you really think another boy could make you feel the way I do? What do you think Jeremy would say if he saw you like this, begging me to fuck you?" He said, jealousy dripping from his tone.

"No, Spencer, no one else will ever make me feel the way you do,” I sincerely responded, knowing that every word that slipped from his mouth was true.

He's thrust quickened, and I could feel his cock hitting my g-spot.

Spencer placed his hand on my stomach. "Do you feel how deep I'm in you? You're mine. Not Jeremy’s or anyone else’s but mine."

I could feel myself clenching around him, getting closer to my release. He noticed and started circling my clit.

"I'm yours, Spence."

“Baby, you feel so good,” he whimpered.

"Come for me, pretty girl. Let everyone know how good—I’m making you feel."

I came mumbling his name, and seconds later his cock twitched in my cunt, shooting his load in me chanting my name in the process.

He slipped out of me, and I laid down on the bed.

Spencer laid beside me trying to catch his breath, his body facing mine.

"Was I too rough? Did I hurt you? I'm sorry. I got carried away—”

"You didn’t hurt me, Spencer. I liked it." I said, running my hands through his air reassuringly.

"Y/N, I meant every word I said. I know you asked me to sleep with you as a friend, but I want be so much more than that.” He paused, placing a gentle kiss to my forehead.

“The thought of you being with someone else physically pains me. I don't want to wait around wondering what could’ve happened if you loved me. I understand if you just want to be friends, but I truly wish we could be more.”

His confession took my breath away, but happiness overflowed my senses. He did want me, after all.

"I would really like that, Spence.” I responded, placing a soft kiss on the side of his neck.

"Are you sure? Cause after women orgasm they release a hormone called oxytocin, making them feel a deeper connection to their partner—”

I silenced him by placing my lips on his in a kiss full of love and adoration. He smiled into the kiss, wrapping his arms around my waist pulling me closer.

•••

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist

[missfrustration]

to teach a captain - part 3 (luffy x reader 18+ fanfic)

summary: “You want to kiss, too!” He says. His head juts forward, leaning down as he looks up at you. You could only respond with one thing: "So, what if I do?"

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

rating: 18+ explicit, minors do not interact!!

tags: pwp, nsfw, smut, sexual content, masturbation, kissing, luffy is a curious guy, reader is a member of the straw hat crew, post-time skip, second-hand embarrassment, no spoilers, no use of y/n

A/n: the ao3 crowd waited half a year for me to post this part, so parts after this will chug along slowly, just wanted to warn you ahead of time! hopefully the length of this helps. posted on ao3 here

words: 8.1k (very long, whoops)

--------------------------

The rest of the night went as follows.

Chopper finally catches up to you after the crew settles into the Sunny. His chipperness never faltered when you tell him you feel better than earlier. Still, he insisted on a late-night check-up. Other than an elevated heartbeat, he gave you a clean bill of health and sent you on your way. 

You took a peak in the small bag Robin gave you, largely ignoring Nami’s. You softly grimace, seeing the new bottle of lube lying on top of the other shopping list of things you ask her to get beforehand.

You couldn't go to sleep for the better half of the night. Every time you thought of what transpired only a few hours ago, your breathing started getting heavy, your mind was racing, and you just felt like squealing. 

It was half past four when you finally went to sleep. You don’t particularly enjoy sleeping in, but when you woke up this morning and saw the time read past 11 am, you welcomed it…

…Up until you realized why exactly you slept in so late.

After a fresh change of clothes, you reluctantly get on deck. As you feel the smooth wooden planks of the Sunny under your feet, you’re overcome with an increasing perplexion. 

The Sunny is still at the dock of Tashini. If we had followed Nami’s schedule she set yesterday, we would’ve left in the early morning. Tashini would’ve been a small dot across the horizon at this point. 

You feel an even deeper pit of your stomach spiral when you see no sign of life, which means everybody’s gathered in the kitchen and dining room, currently having lunch. Alongside your crewmates, smack dab in the middle, will be Luffy.

Your heart thumps as you reach the door to the dining room, swinging it open like usual. The Straw Hat crew sits around the table, collectively turning to the archway when they see you. All have a smile on their face and a greeting on their tongue. Sanji, once setting a big platter of shrimp scampi in the middle of the crowded table, frolics over to you and sings your name.

“Ahh angel, you’re awake,” he sings. “Just in time for lunch.”

You greet him like usual, running your eyes over Nakama until your body erupts in butterflies again.

Your eyes meet Luffy’s, feeling your heart crack against your chest at the immediate eye contact. He gives you a toothy grin. 

“Good morning!” Luffy says. Before you can stutter out a response, Ussop pipes up.

“Hey, now.” Nami points at you. “You’re not wearing any of the new stuff I gave you.” She gives you a playful frown.

“Ah, sorry about that, it was a long night last night,” You sigh, purposefully trying to divert Luffy’s eyes. “Chopper, said I’m fine at least. Speaking of which, why are we still at dock?”

“Well, I may have a surprise waiting for everybody, I was just waiting for the last person to join us.”

You nod, going to take a seat. Brook tells you to sit down next to him and Chopper, playfully tapping an empty spot at the table. Chopper smiles at you, glad you look better than last night. 

“Aaand with that, everybody’s here!” Nami says, paper in hand. “Time to announce the next island and lookout parties for tonight…”

While Nami is talking off the paper she has in her hands, you settle down and join in on digging into the beautiful array of dishes. There’s fluffy white rice, shrimp scampi with a fragrant green sauce, lovely cut fruits that Sanji got from Tashini, and more meat to compliment Luffy’s hungry appetite. White rice is the first thing you go for, feeling the squishy texture as soon as you dig into it. 

“That means our next destination will be Dracon. Now,–”

“Dracon?” The word comes out before you have the chance to think about it. You pause, letting your fork drop some rice you just dished out. You try to clean up the mess without anyone noticing.

Nami, including the others, turn to you. “Yes, do you know it?” The navigator asks.

“Oh, ah.” You search your brain, trying to come up with an explanation for your reaction. “I’m not sure, it’s been a while since… working for my home country.”

“From what you’ve told us, you used to be a diplomat before, yes?” Robin asks from across the table. You nod.

“I had to travel a lot, and there are islands I remember going to, but I don’t quite recall visiting Dracon. I’m not sure—at least, I have no memories of the name in terms of my diplomatic work,” You shrug unassuredly.

“I’ll keep note of that,” Nami states, scribbling something down.

Nami moves on to some unrelated housekeeping items, though something feels so familiar that you can’t shrug it off. You feel off about the whole thing, yet not enough to notify the crew.

Now, you feel a pair of eyes on you from across the table. They’re soft in their demeanor, yet concerned in your sudden tenseness. You look over to them, to see Luffy with his head slightly tilted. He’s looking straight back at you while shoving a slab of meat in his mouth. You can’t find it in yourself to look away at his calming face, but all you remember is Luffy panting, pleading with you as his hand found purchase on your shoulder, face so close to yours as he moaned–

“Uhh, excuse me…” Brook nudges your arm, making you snap forward and see Nami leaning over the table, waving her hand in front of your face. 

“Hey, are you listening?” She asks.

“Yeah! Yeah, yeah, uh…” You cringe, “what was that again?”

Nami sighs, slapping your head with the rolled-up paper from across the table.

“You and Luffy will be on watch for the first shift tonight. Make sure to wake up Zoro and Sanji for the shift after, okay?”

“R-right, got it.” You nod, hoping the heat from your face isn’t noticeable.

“You got that, Luffy?” Nami turns to Luffy now, chunks of ham disappearing from his hand into his mouth. Luffy manages to say a jumbled yup between food scarfs.

“I can’t believe you paired me up with brow-for-brains, Nami.” Zoro scoffs, digging into his next bite. You all look to Sanji, or well, where he used to be. He’s now standing over Zoro with a menacing figure.

“Shut it, mosshead. Don’t blame Nami for your incompetence.”

“Huh?!” 

Ussop makes a point to sigh loudly, muttering something about “some weaklings will never learn,” whatever that means in Ussop-speak.

Before a fight breaks out at the dinner table, Nami gives a threatening scowl that separates the two.

“I will reiterate this as I did with a few of you earlier: As you know, we were meant to set sail this morning to the next island. How ever,” Nami says with a smirk, “I thought it would be a nice change of pace for all of us to go to a theater tonight, and then set sail after.”

“A theater? What’s that, a game?” Zoro raises an eyebrow. 

From the other side of the room, Sanji loudly sighs “ Idiot ,” causing the pair to grit their teeth at each other like wild animals. At this point, they are too caught up with each other to pay attention to the conversation.

“I’ve heard of that,” Franky says, “Isn’t that where people perform a story on a stage?” 

Robin nods. “It’s not something you see around the sea often.”

“How inspiring,” Brook gleams next to you. “I can’t wait to see what it’s about.”

“I’m guessing we’ll have immunity there?” Jimbei asks.

Nami nods, “With a bit of persuasion, I was able to get a personal booth at the top of the theater with a promise that we’ll be protected as long as we don’t do anything.

“Her ‘persuasion’ was swooning the staff that we ran into while shopping last night.” Robin chimes in, causing Nami to smirk in triumph. 

“Hey, a cheap meal and show is a steal.” Nami counters. “I spent a quarter of what I spent on our girl’s new wardrobe on this opportunity, and that’s even with the bargaining I had to do.”

You choke on your glass of water hearing Nami’s words.

“How much did you spend on me?!”

“As long as you wear them, you don’t need to know,” Nami assures you with a sly grin. “Giving you a good sense of fashion is payment enough.”

A guttural groan comes out of you as you shake your head.

“I will, I will. Just— please don’t charge me this time.” You say to Nami, who seems to grant you mercy with a nod.

The crew laughs at your exchange. Ussop is yakking it up to Jinbei and Franky about how he used to be a “connoisseur of theater” in his day. At the end of the table, Luffy waves his hand to flag Sanji.

“More please!”

–

Nami instructed everyone to dress accordingly for the play. To be honest, you didn’t know what to wear until after looking in the clothing bag she gave you. Maybe you shouldn’t have, because you find a dress inside that works almost too well for tonight. 

“Perfect, it’s the one I picked,” Nami says when you shimmy it on. She and Robin have already gotten ready, Robin has now gone to join the others on deck.

“You planned this?” You’re surprised as you look at her through the girls’ mirror. You had just finished zipping up the deep rouge silk dress. There was ruching in the bodice that gave your silhouette more form than you’re used to seeing, hem peaking right above your knees. 

She makes her way to the dresser where you’re sitting. “You should appreciate a good dress more than once in a while. We always have plenty of days besides celebrations to wear them, after all.” 

“Yeah, you’re right.” You think about it. Robin and Nami always outdo you in style, probably because they treat every day like a fashion statement.

“You look sexy in a shirt and pants anyway.” Nami makes a dumb kissy face as you giggle and push her off. She beckons you to the door. “C’mon, everybody’s waiting.”

When you leave the girls’ dorm, you can see everybody has cleaned up rather nicely. Sanji his usual suave attire, Robin and Nami are dressed to the nines, and each of the others has a flare of fashion. 

Thump. Thump.

Luffy was no different. He wears a black tie and crisp red dress shirt tucked into belted slacks. The dress shirt was slightly pulled up because of his goofing off with Ussop and Chopper. Chopper is on his head doing birdarms as Luffy runs around the dock. Ussop chimes in with an airy bird call that dies out pretty quickly.

Everybody turns around to you and Nami when she closes the door behind her. You hear an ‘ooooo’ around some of the crew as Ussop wolf-whistles.

“You ladies look so lovely!” Sanji cries.

“Ah, my, you’re a charmer,” Brook says to you, bowing deeply. “It would be such an honor to see your p–” Yup, you’re tuning that out.

“Hah! I think the girls super outdid us again.” Franky laughs as he poses. Jinbei seems to nod in agreement.

You blush at their compliments, seeing Chopper and Luffy now turn to look at you. Luffy is the only one not smiling, mouth agape and it makes you a little sad to see. If you wanted anyone to smile, you would’ve wanted it to be him.

“Our girl finally gets to dress, am I right? Now, I think that’s everyone!” Nami comments to the group, “Let’s head out!”

You arrive at a large building bustling with people under a tall hall archway. The whole inside seems illuminated in a soft yellow glow, with torches decorating the exterior walls. Nami and Robin led the pack to a side door, where a group of staff were waiting for you all. You’re briskly taken to a private entrance. It leads to a modest open room with a wide U-shaped booth that spans to either side of the wall, a large tray full of decadent foods in the middle, and an open window that showcases the lowered, grand stage a hundred feet away.

Everybody seems pleased to sit down and get situated, especially Luffy. He takes the part of the booth closer to the open space, objectively a great view, as the rest of you file in. He digs into the trays of complimentary food before you even think to sit.

You end up sitting next to Zoro and Jinbei on either side of you, pleased to be within arms reach of some fresh fruit on the tray. It doesn’t take long for the stage lights to dim and for the show to start. 

It ends up being a fairly detailed story about a knight and his quest to save the heroine, a fellow knight, after they got separated in a battle between countries. There is plenty of humor that the audience and the crew laugh along to. At one point, the knight has to dress as a stuffy aristocrat to pass into the country that captured her and prepare for her execution. Usopp had cheered especially at this as everybody laughed it up. Just before she was scheduled to be beheaded, the hero stepped in and acted as a country nobleman turned war veteran, using his many past achievements of slaying warlocks and beasts to convince the guardsmen to release her. They end up running away on horseback to the country they fought for. Once unsaddled, the heroine finally confronts him.

“You… you came to save me?” The heroine asks, tears laddled in her eyes, almost in disbelief at the hero, her friend’s, bravery. “Why would you do something so risky?”

“I can’t be on the battlefield without you.” The hero falls to the ground to kneel in front of her, taking her hands into his and looking deeply into her eyes. “Won’t you be mine, my knightess?”

“You stupid man. Is that even a question?” She cries out, running into his arms.

They lovingly embrace after the crowd cheers, many of the Straw Hats whooping in celebration. You’re almost thankful you didn’t sit near Franky, as you could practically hear him sob out into a snotty, rather tear-packed mess. You almost feel bad to see Chopper is in his range of fire.

When they finally pull away from each other, the hero steps towards the heroine once more, taking her head in her hands and kissing her passionately. Her arms wrapped around him after a moment of surprise at the gesture, letting him dip her into a warm, lingering hold. Your heart flits at the sight as you join the audience’s cheers and awes. 

Amidst the loud celebration, you realize the scene before you feel reminiscent. As the pair kiss on stage, you think of how you were in a similar position with Luffy not long ago, tasting his lips. Though, the fashion you two were in was more… sensual. Your face flares up. 

You turn to the other side of the room. Luffy’s shadow is clear in the illumination of theater lights, and you see his figure shift as he raises his arm. He lifts his fingers up to his face in what you could only think of as… a yawn? Maybe boredom?

No. He touches his lips softly, grazing them along the skin before looking down at them with curiosity.

You turn away quickly when you notice his head swivel, spinning around the crew members until he stops at you. A pair of eyes is now settled in your direction as you feel your heart pick up speed. You felt him stare at you between the food platters now littered with bones and stems, before the crew joined the audience in a standing ovation. You tuck yourself away from Luffy’s averting eyes as you stand behind Jinbei, shortly overshadowed by every pair of hands now erupting in applause. You clap extra loud, hooked onto the stage to watch the start of the curtain call. When you finally feel the courage to look amongst the crew, you feel the absence of a few eyes that turn back to the stage.

The crew ends the night as normal with a round of drinks before slowly filing out of the theater and towards the ship. You pace alongside Franky, Robin, and Nami. Franky has his robust arm around Robin, laughing along while Nami and you talk about the wonderful experience. Before your mind filters out the thoughts of earlier, a pair of rubbery arms snaps behind you all before Luffy’s figure catapults to the ship at the dock.

–

Nervous blood bubbles in your veins when you’re on your watch shift. 

From the crow's nest at the top of the mast. The saltiness of the ocean breeze isn’t as apparent on the shoreline, but you still smell the tanginess of ocean algae mixed with the earthy scents of the sandy dock. 

You’ve been glancing every so often towards the rear of the ship, wondering when you’ll be able to spot Luffy’s black, messy hair walking along the deck under the moonlight. Maybe he’s tucked at the rear, but it’s hard to tell from the top of the mast without craning your head. You’re not brave enough to check in detail at this point. 

While you think about your watch shift partner that gets more and more late, you think about what else was said around that dinner table.

Earlier, Nami announced the next stop is Dracon, an island that sounds too familiar to be a coincidence. You’ve been to a lot of places in your life before joining the Strawhats, but it’s been so long since that you're not exactly sure. If your home country had any notable affairs with them, surely you would’ve remembered dealing with it. The question was, was it positive affairs, or would you have trouble soon? You don’t have a good feeling about that name, even if you wish for the former. 

“Sorry, I’m late!”

Turning around, you’re met with your smiley captain, his grin upturned ear-to-ear. You look to the moon, and judging from the position, it seems that…

“An hour late, Luffy. And you didn’t change out of those clothes.”

Luffy smiles in response. His tie is undone, hanging around his neck as one side threatens to slip off. The deep red button-up shirt is now completely untucked, hanging loosely past his hips. Some of the top buttons are now undone and loosely shifting under the chilled breeze. His hat is hanging by the string around his neck, resting quietly on his back.

“Sorry.” He doesn't look that sorry.

“It’s fine,” you waved him off, “nothing suspicious happened out here.” Unsurprisingly, not many people dare to approach the infamous Thousand Sunny. Certainly, no one is strong enough to succeed in plunder, anyway.

You look at him again after a moment, heart thumping when you see he’s not moving to climb out of the crow's nest.

“You can go to your lookout now.” When you try to casually say that, your nervous shift practically blows your cover, though you're not sure if it’s noticed.

Luffy hums a noncommittal sound as he thinks about it.

“Nah, I wanna stay.”

“Why?” 

He shrugs, pouting his lip a little at the question. “Don’t wanna move.”

“Fine,” You conceded. It wouldn't be the first time Luffy would bend the rules during watch. “Let’s at least watch the nest to cover ground.”

Luffy nods, following your step as you start walking around the edge of the nest by each window, looking out for any activity. Your partner, unsurprisingly, doesn’t care to watch, walking with you as you make small circles in the nest. At one point, Luffy jumps on the seats lined against the walls, matching your pace as he whistles quite brashly. You carry on like that for a while, watching all parts of the horizon and shoreline of Tashini. You’re not surprised to see any signs of life at this time of night. 

After a few times of Luffy almost losing his balance, he joins your side, loudly stomping his sandals on the dock as he kicks his feet forward.

“Man, I liked that Theodore a lot!” Luffy says. 

Your face scrunches up in confusion, unsure of what exactly he means until you can only deduce one thing.

“You mean… theater?”

“Teeter?”

“ Theater.”

“Oh, tea-eater!”

“Yeah, that.” You couldn't help but giggle at him. “What did you like about it?”

He chuckles, reaching back to the straw hat and swiftly squashing it on top of his black hair.

“Man, it was great! There was so much yummy food to eat, and it was funny when the knight guy made all those silly faces to sneak around!”

His hands are behind his hand as he throws his head back into it, looking wherever as he talks about all the different aspects he likes. Luffy talks about the color of the clothes he liked and the way he laughed at the things that had the audience roaring. You idly listen, agreeing to his list, not paying attention to your watch shift duties anymore.

“I think the girl knight who got captured was kinda stupid. She didn’t scream or kick when she was locked up!” Luffy says.

“Would you have kicked and screamed instead?” 

“I would’ve never gotten caught!” Luffy laughs out. “But if I did, I would at least fight back. She could’ve easily saved herself from the guards if she did that!”

“I think her being the helpless lady in need of saving was a part of the story, it made it more dramatic. For the knight, it made saving her more high stakes.” You think out loud.

“If she’s a knight, she’s strong enough to fight back and get out by herself.” He turns to you. “Right?” 

That makes sense to you, but what doesn’t is the way Luffy looks at you. He’s looked at you with that cheerful expression thousands of times before, but now you feel a hammer from your heartbeat. His chest muscles barely peek out in the moonlight under that silky button-up, and his tie is so, so close to slipping now.

You reach out before thinking, stepping up to Luffy and catching the end of the tie right before it falls off of his narrow shoulders. You promptly adjust the tie so it's balanced around his neck, no longer threatening to fall off.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You surmise. Honestly, Luffy makes sense. In his scarce moments of clarity, he always speaks with an astounding factuality. 

His smile fades as he looks into both of your eyes. The proximity of you two is now very apparent, but you're struggling to find yourself creating distance, struggling to keep your hands off of the edges of his tie.

“I–”

“I want to learn how to kiss!” Luffy announces loudly.

You sucked in a breath that catches in your throat, rather badly, and feel a cough fumble out of your mouth. You try to save face but find yourself awkwardly grasping onto your shirt and in the air for some stability. 

“I’m sorry, I’m surprised you know what it’s called,” you say after gaining enough breath.

Luffy gives you a frown and crosses his arms. “I know what kissing is. I’m not dumb.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I just…” You kick yourself in your mind. “What brought this up?”

Luffy shrugs, looking out the nest’s windows onto the oceanline. The moonlight illuminates his face crisply through one of the windows, but you can’t tell exactly what he’s thinking.

“Was it the theater?” You ask him.

He looks back at you without moving his head, confirming your suspicions. 

“They did what we did. I wanna know how to do that.” 

“With… me?” You blink.

“Yup!”

You feel the thrumming of your heart in your veins, beating at his words. “It's pretty simple, you should know based on the first time we did,” you say. You try to stuff down your elation as best as possible, but you know your face is warming just like it did last night. 

“I wasn’t paying attention!”

“You should have been! You were there, you know-?!”

“You want to, too!” He says. His head juts forward, leaning down as he looks up at you.

“So, what if I do?” You say, a bit annoyed at his correct assumption. “You already know what to do, plus, we have to be on watch right now!” You gesture with your arms held out open in a reminder of why you’re both here. 

“I have Haki!” Luffy says with a childish pout. “If anyone comes I’ll know. I’ll beat them up.”

You frown at him, again seeing how easily your captain can push to get his way. It feels even redundant for you to be on watch if Luffy has enough Observation Haki to detect anything suspicious.

“Just one.” He grumbles. “I just want one.”

You know this feeling. The cocoons that were once hibernating in your stomach have hatched into butterflies, now violently beating against your gut. The small crush you had has transpired into an infatuation. An annoying infatuation. The current predicament you’re in is…

Tricky.

Luffy doesn’t seem to be interested in you like that. You know he just wants a lesson again—for his own purposes. But, can you find it in you to deny him of something that you’ve been thinking about, even before last night?

“Okay,” You sigh, hand waving up and down. “Stand up, then.”

Luffy stands up straight like a spring, smiling brightly at another victory. He is giddy from excitement, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, yet he waits for your next words of wisdom.

“I guess the best way to describe it is… there’s not any set rules for this. To kiss, at least one person is needed, you put your lips together like this,” you make a small pout, “and lean into the object of affection that you want to kiss.” 

You demonstrate by taking the back of your hand, looking at Luffy when you pout your lips, and gently placing them on the back of your hand. When you purse your lips and pull away, the contact makes a small smooch noise.

“Here,” you raise the back of your hand you kissed, holding it up to Luffy. “Try it.”

Luffy looks at your hand curiously before he leans in and he pouts his lips like you did. He presses his lips to your hand with the pressure of a feather until he briefly, brashly presses it down and lifts his head. It reminded you of the peck of a bird, almost. In the process, he opens his mouth to make a small smack.  

“Like that, got it? …why are you frowning?”

“That’s not what I want,” Luffy says. “I want to kiss like they did.” 

Why are you not shocked a hand kiss would be enough.

“To do that, both parties usually lean in for a kiss together. If it’s something that both people want to do, the rest should come naturally.”

“And they did this,” Luffy says, holding his arms and shaking them around to poorly mimic the embrace the two on stage did. 

“C’mere.” 

You take the ends of his tie, pulling him a step towards you until your bodies are inches away, the straw hat barely grazing the top of your forehead. Luffy lets you easily, watching you with gentle focus. You guide his hands around your middle. You lightly rest your hands on top of his shoulders. You hear a soft swallow. 

“When you want, you lean in. Once our lips touch, you close your eyes. Ready?” You ask. He nods. 

“Okay, just follow me.”

You lean in halfway, slowly, softly pursuing your lips together as your eyes flutter shut, nervousness bubbling up your body until your head feels light. You let it try and fizzle, try to let the stupid pounding of your heart quiet down in your eardrums, but it’s slowly replaced to wonder when your lips stay untouched by Luffy. 

…and, still nothing?

When you open your eyes, Luffy is staring at you, face reddened like a cherry with his mouth agape. His eyes are fixed in awe, flicking between your eyes and lips.

“Sorry, I,” Luffy stutters. “‘S weird. My body… it’s not moving.”

The weird feeling in your stomach has bubbled up again. His flustered cheeks and sheepish smile are quickly blocked from your vision as he mumbles into the back of his hand. 

“I don’t know. It’s like, l-like I don’t deserve it, or somethin’. Haha…”

Overcome with affection for the blushing captain, you quickly close the gap. You want to steal away his anxieties, steal away that flustered nervousness you couldn’t bare to see on him. It takes him only a second to process it before his muscles relax against you. 

Your lips touch his gently. His hands rest on your waist, his straw hat lifting oh-so-slightly by your forehead as you press into him. Those narrow lips of his feel so plush against yours, perfectly slotted together that you feel light and airy. It lasts just as long as last night’s chaste kiss.

When you slowly pull away with a small smooch noise, his face doesn’t look as cherried, save for a light pink tinge across the apples of his cheeks. 

“Cool!” Luffy says, “Let me try!”

“Hold on, I said only once–”

He gains the courage this time to lean wholly, trapping your lips between his thinner ones, feeling the smile etched on his face the whole time. When you pull away, he seems almost back to normal. The lingering worry on his face is gone now.

Smooch!

“Well?”

“It’s good,” Luffy said. “It’s really good. Again. Let’s do it again.”

You both lean in this time, lifting the brim of his straw hat again. His hands naturally graze down to your waist while your hands lay on his chest. His lips aren’t as chapped as you thought they would be. For a guy, they seem very soft. Not in the way that regular skin should be, but more pliable. It squishes against your lips but seems to spring back to form each time you pull back. 

Smooch!

“Again.” 

You both lean in again, as your hands explore past the partially unbuttoned shirt to his chest. Your suspicions of rubbery skin are confirmed as you feel the softness, malleable, that bounces back when you release the pressure of your fingertips. 

Smooch!

“Again.”

After slotting your lips back on his, you swallow down a whine, busying yourself with the feeling of his body against yours, his hands so subtly stroking the small of your spine just above your ass. This time, the straw hat slips off of his head and falls to his back.

A noise of frustration escapes him as he squirms.

“Do what you did last time,” he whines. “Your hands. Like you did yesterday.”

“So you were paying attention, liar.” You grimace. He smiles in response, just like a guilty captain would.

Yet, you have no qualms threading our fingers in his hair, grabbing the tufts together a little too excitedly. You dive back to his mouth to claim his lips. This time, his eyes close in tandem with yours as he slips his hands up and down your torso, kneading the flesh, leaning his body against yours. You absentmindedly feel the fluffy, soft black hair under your fingertips, running your hands through the scalp as Luffy presses his lip to yours. 

“I think,” Luffy breaks the kiss, speaking so close his lips are still grazing yours, “you have magic fingers.”

“Yeah?” You giggle for the first since you’ve started kissing him, making his face light up.

You turn his head slightly to give him a small peck on the cheek, he tries to copy you by stretching his head to yours and planting a quick, hard kiss.

“And you smell familiar.” He says softly. So unnaturally soft for the rubber man that it makes your face burn.

“What do I smell like?” You whisper.

“Like a cabin.”

You giggle. “Okay? Any cabin in particular?”

“Makino’s cabin. Back where I grew up.”

“Is that a good thing?”

Luffy thinks about it. After a moment, he gives you a big nod as if sealing the thought in his mind. 

“Yes,” he smiles.

“That’s nice of you to say, Luffy.” 

He seems to like that compliment. To which he smiles very brightly, now kissing you with a newfound passion that you find attractive.

Okay, like, really fucking hot. 

Luffy smushes your face between his palms and plants kisses any place he can think of. From the lids of your eyes to your temples, to the bow of your nose, and all the parts of your cheeks that squish into his lips when he puts extra pressure. Each time he leaves a small, wet smooch behind, a sound he seems captivated by the more he kisses you. 

“It’s really good.” He murmurs into your skin. 

His arms reach out and grip the back of your neck, almost pulling you closer despite the fact your chest couldn’t press farther. His heavy-handed presence causes you to shuffle a little. 

“Luffy…” You sigh out. You really can’t take it without needing more. You pull away from him; something he doesn’t seem happy about, illustrated by the childish pout he has on his face.

“There’s one more type of kiss we can do.” You whisper breathlessly. 

“Really, what’s that?” Luffy asks. You brush over his lips, noses lightly connected as you whisper to him.

“Just follow my lead, okay?”

You lean into him once more, but now slowly opening up your mouth to have your tongue slip out. You run it over Luffy’s thin lips before running against the entrance. After a moment, Luffy opens his mouth, tongue slowly peaking out past his lips to meet yours. 

You swear there is electricity in the air when it happens because he moans again. Whimpers from the sensation as his hands jolt around the caressed skin. 

Your tongues dance together in shared bliss, Luffy shudders against you at the feeling, grabbing your body like he’s surprised by the feeling. 

Luffy knew how bad you wanted to do this—he said himself—but, he must not know the extent, really. 

Because with every kiss, it just leads to more wanton in you. With every graze of his tongue against yours, feeling the wet muscle that tastes of meat, it makes your breath feel like magma. The noises coming from sucking and tasting his tongue slicks into the dead of night. It’s the only noise ringing in your ears save for the small whimpers and sighs coming from both of you. He despreately brushes his fingers against the sides of your face as his chest tightens, and grows still.

“Breathe through your nose.” You tell him after Luffy starts to turn blue in the face. His breath to hitch, the air exhaled back down your throat hot and wet.  He instantly returns to color, now with a revived energy. 

You can’t take it, him exploring and prodding the inside of your mouth, him gripping and almost vibrating against you as your upper bodies press together. You wrap your arms over his shoulder, permanently sewing your finger pads with that soft hair.

“Ah…” A small moan comes out of Luffy’s mouth when you tug on his hair to tilt his head up and off of yours. You dive in with false expertise as you give wet kisses on the underside of his jaw, consuming the skin until you’ve covered it all. You move to his neck, making him grunt as you pull his head back to expose it in full. Your tongue slowly sweeps down and over until it lands on his jugular, sweetly sucking it now as he gasps. The breathiness turns into a grunt of what sounds like frustration and he riggles against the feeling. 

“I think something’s wrong again,” Luffy says, face knit together. You pull off of him in concern.

“Do you need me to stop–”

“No!” He says, grabbing both sides of your head. His eyes fire wide as he grabs in panic. 

In his expression, he shoves you forward so hard you lose your footing, tumbling down with him onto the planks. You both fall into each other before he scrambles on top of you. 

“What’s wrong, Luffy?” You say, looking up at him.

“I don’t know,” He says, “But… every time I try to think about it, this happens!” His hand dives in between the two of you before hastily grabbing onto the hem of his shirt and pulling it so high his whole chest shows. When your eyes travel down, you see his problem. 

“It’s why I was late! I couldn’t make it go away even when I touched it like you showed me to!”

“Oh.” 

A breath catches in your throat as your eyes adjust under the moonlight. With his other hand, he points crudely to a large bulge now prominent under his pants. 

“Can you show me what I did wrong?” He breathlessly whispers. 

“Y-you did it like last night?” You prop yourself by your arms as he kneels over you. 

“Yeah. It didn’t feel as good, though. Used half of some bottle in the kitchen.”

Luffy shuffles a hand into the underside of his pants, rustling into his boxers until he grips the erection trapped inside. You swallow as he takes his dick, quickly slipping it out.

“You sneaked into the pantry?” And he’s still slick from it. The tip of his penis glistens from the lubricant, as well as the pre-cum now leaking from it. You should be upset on Sanji's behalf that he allegedly used half the bottle of what you’d guess is oil from the kitchen, but the view of his dick was too appealing for you to care.

“It kinda hurt without it,” Luffy said. You don’t blame him, mostly thankful for its convenience.

“I can show you then, Luffy,” you whisper, “you can start when you want.”

He beams, bright and contagious, as he grabs onto the head. Without any guidance, he begins to pump himself with an arm propping himself over you. You don’t dare to mention the intimate space he's invading for fear he’ll back off of you. With proximity, you get to see more of his movements, his facial features, and the heat behind his breath.

His face scrunches up in his first initial strokes before easing into a steady rhythm, similar to the brisk pace he kept last night. His hand lingers on the base and shaft, quickly running over the head each time. You could hear the light, moist squelching of oil rubbing against his cock.

“Ah, this is familiar,” Luffy says. 

“Better than earlier?”

“I did this earlier, but it didn’t feel this good.” 

“You did it the same way?” You ask in confusion. 

“I guess.” He shrugs. “I think you help me. This is really fun,” Luffy huffs out.

Luffy’s confession astonishes you. To know you can help him, to know that you and you only have made Luffy experience this, it makes you burn up in lust. 

“Shit, Luffy, you sound so good saying that.” 

You want to reach up and touch him, graze down his body with wonderful kisses, and feel the heat against each inch of skin. You feel your hand inch in front of you to reach up to his face, but when you lift it, Luffy jerks into himself so sporadically that your fingers are caught in the crossfire. 

He’s loud when your hand suddenly fumbles onto his shaft. The feeling of surprise is mutual as you look deeply into one another. His mouth opened, pearly white teeth peeking out.

“Please,” Luffy doesn’t need to say anything else, his fingers hastily interlocking with yours as he lowers them. 

“Touch me like this.”

Your face feels on fire, his hands feel steady and laced with yours as you both grasp his shaft together. He whimpers in delight, satisfied with the new warmth of your hand wrapped with his.

It’s so erotic, so sensual, his shaft feels so hot with the slick of oily lubricant and pre-cum meshing in the crevices of both of your fingers now when you start fisting him. He shudders into you in pleasure, head lulling back and forth like a wave, chasing his highs and mellowing into lows. A wrinkle in between his eyebrows shapes off and on when he bucks out. The moistness of his lips attracts you again, how could you deny the savory taste of Luffy in front of you?

Your lips latch onto him, licking up the saliva awaiting from his drooling mouth. Teeth click together from the intensity you both kiss each other. It’s wild, and uncoordinated, you try to follow the beat of his pace while he desperately chases your tongue after each moan. 

His mouth in combination with his erection, hand, his fingers squeezing into yours as you stroke him. His dick felt firm in your grip, textured with small veins illuminated by the moon. Every time his hand slipped past his shaft, you would help guide him back as quickly as possible, and every time he would thrust his hips forward to compensate. 

“You look so needy like this, but you can’t help it, can you? Such a gorgeous look on your face, so sweet and filthy, hm?” You coo. Something in you adds a little more pressure to his dick stoking down the base. Something that Luffy finds quite enjoyable. It gives you so much gratification to see that lustful, desperate face, that you try something sinful.

“Why don’t you tell me how this feels?” With your one hand interlocked with his, you take your other and dive past Luffy’s leaking erection. You cup his ballsack, feeling the thin skin molding into your hand until you rub up against it.

“Ah!” His head bucks forward into the crook of your shoulder. He’s shaking from the pleasure of it. “So good. So good, I—ahhn!”

You fondle his balls under the breakneck pace of strokes into his cock. The smooth flesh is nothing like his pulsing, steel penis. You inch lower down to the underside of the sack and slowly stroke under until Luffy reduces to nothing but animalistic husks.

“Be as loud as you need to, Luffy.” You rasp. “You can do that for me, can’t you? A good boy like you can do it.”

And just like that, your words seem to coax something in him, because he grips your fingers harder with his, pumping himself into a devious pace, and moaning wildly in between his pants.

Puffs of warmth exhale from his lips, the heat between you two can’t be penetrated by any icy chill of the night air. You feel enveloped in him, in your lust and passion, you can hear his every bit of pleasure, every pump of his dick, and the way the sound of his pants is magnetized with his head tucked to your ear. 

My God, he’s drooling in ecstasy down your neck. You feel the wetness trail like sweat down your flesh.

“Nnn, ahh, ‘s coming out. I can feel it.” Luffy whimpers into your skin. His voice sounds rasped from his panting

“Why don’t you cum then, my captain?” You take the liberty to nip on the skin of his neck. It’s something small, but one that causes his whole body to jolt.

“Mmmph!”

That look. He’s so close to release that he’s completely hunched over you. There’s barely any space for you to stroke his pulsing dick, but you continue regardless. His voice is the only thing you can hear on the ear he’s crushed up against. 

But you don’t get that liberty of him cumming onto you again, however. In your other ear, you hear something alert enough for you to slow your strokes down.

You hear a faint shout from the deck of the Sunny as a familiar voice calls out the two of your names. Your body freezes.

“Luffy, shit, Luffy!”

“Hm?” Dazed and sublime, Luffy has half a mind to hear the panic in your tone. 

“Oiiii!” Says the voice, one that sounds so quiet, but it’s loud enough for you to tell who it is.

With a push you’ll soon regret, you shove him off of you onto his butt, scurrying to sit up.

“It’s the next shift!”

“Ah… so?”

“Get up,” You squeak, pulling Luffy's pants back up, much to his dismay. “Put it away!”

“What?! Why?”

“I told you why yesterday, just do it!” You zip his pants but up against the now trapped erection, and Luffy groans out.

Both of you try to get up at once—Luffy in agitation, you in alarm that his button-up is falling down his shoulder and he looked fucked out of his mind—but you bash your heads together. The clunk is so solid that you double down on the floor. You yelp out in pain, looking up from the corner of your eye to see Luffy’s standing up just fine. 

Of course. Of course he doesn’t feel how hard you collided into each other, the fucking rubber man. 

Quitely, you hear someone. 

“Oiiii, you never woke us up. Is everything okay?” That voice gets louder with each rung of the ladder of the crow’s nest until the latch is lifted. 

Coming from the opening is a mop of blonde hair followed by a mossy green. You freeze, whipping your head to see the state of Luffy. His face is slate, like nothing was happening, and…

What the fuck?

There’s no more bulge in his pants. 

You can’t think of it too hard, with the throbbing pain seeping into your head as your adrenaline creeps down.

“Oi,” Zoro gets up, looking back and forth between you two. “The hell happened here.”

“Ah! My angel, you’re hurt?” Sanji yelped in alarm, “You had me so worried. We were calling out for some time and didn’t hear anything back. And you’re sweating bad…” He kneels to your form glued to the ground, pointing to your neck ladened with Luffy’s drool, looking back at Luffy who was awkwardly standing close with no motion. “Hey, shithead, the hell did you do to her?”

“Nothin’, she was just showing me something.”

You don’t know if those two believe him. With the horrid poker face Luffy typically has in a lie, you can’t bare to look up and confirm it. You rub your head on the ground. 

“I just… bumped my head.” You groan.

He looks back at Luffy, then at you.

“Oh, dear, please go back down and sleep as much as you need, me and moss shit can take care of the rest, okay?”

“Who the hell are you calling moss shit, kitchen boy?”

Yeah, you’re getting the hell out of here before dumbbells are thrown.

Once you get the bearings to look up from the pain, you see the lemon-lime pirates gnawing their teeth at each other. From a glimpse, a straw hat dips down below the crow’s nest latch and disappears. 

You feel a small force compelling you to chase that hat, the man attached to it, that you ignore the masculine catfight beside you and follow it. 

You climb down the mast to the deck of the Sunny and hear your feet knock onto the deck. 

You see Luffy leaning against the dock next to the boys’ dorm, looking out for a moment before latching his eyes on you. You’re glad to see him. He doesn’t seem to be frustrated at the abrupt stop you put things.

“Hey,” Luffy calls, followed by your name.

“Hey,” you softly smile back at him. Maybe it was a little awkward. Maybe you’re distracted by the way the collar of his unbuttoned shirt is still hanging off of one shoulder, or that the shirt tie that laid around his shoulders is gone at this point. You hope it didn’t look weird to the two who came in.

Luffy rustles with the top of his straw hat. The ties of it dangle with the wind of the night.

“Thanks for that! It means a lot.” He says.

And just like that, he retreats to the boys' dorm, leaving you alone again as you make your way to your own bed. You snuggle back in bed with the girls, harboring a hardship that bounced in your head:

Damn. There’s always Nakama somewhere to walk in on you.

--------

ao3 | tiktok | kofi | masterlist

[cherry-pop-elf]

Kiss it Better Pt:3

Curly x Reader

AN: I am just speechless. All this support is making me tear up. Like holy shit. Thank you. Don’t worry! When this finishes(god idk how it will I’m making up as I go since yall want more chapters) I’ll make sure to post it to AO3 for easier access! Just thank you again! And uh. Don’t forget I have a Kofi and Wishlist if you wanna like tip or something. NO PRESSURE! Just a reminder to anyone who WANTS and CAN! You come first! Just. Thank you again!

SUM: You couldn’t sleep, so you try and remember things with Curly to lull you to sleep. As you do, you remember things that are important for a captain to have. Very important, and you are gonna be certain to find them

Warnings: Jimmy, sexual assault, mentions of abortion (it’s a rather calm chapter really. Take it as a pallet cleanser because the next chapter imma really show you how fucked up Jimmy is))

You just couldn’t sleep. It felt criminal to right now. So much was going through your head. So much has happened and now you had time to let it all soak in. The crash, Anya, why there was a crash, Curly’s condition, it made sleep impossible. Especially alone in that big bed that was meant for you and your husband.

You tried to take in deep breaths, and just let the thoughts wash over you. There was responsibility as the Captains Spouse. You weren’t just ‘eye candy’ like Jimmy said. You had worth, and were just as much important to the team as everyone else.

Such as learning a thing or two about what Captain should do in case of an emergency.

Curly was in no state to help, and Jimmy sure as fuck won’t help either. He was the reason everyone crashed after all. He’s a loose cannon and you needed to tip toe around him. Who knows what he might do next. You weren’t even sure if telling Swansea and Daisuke about what’s going on was smart.

Swansea has little girls of his own after all. He won’t react well at all. Then there’s Daisuke. Barely nineteen and thrown into this mess. He might panic or maybe even do something crazy like confront Jimmy. There was just to many what ifs.

So you were left on your own.

You would wrap yourself up in what was once Curly’s sleep robe and grab his spare ID card. The very thing that can unlock any door, and be the one thing that can lock your bedroom door. Definitely should have Anya sleep in here for a while. She deserves to be able to sleep soundly.

While you were waiting for everyone to sleep as well you would explore the bedroom. Looking into nook and cranny to see if there was anything of use. The Captains always were given a bunch of extra shit after all. Even Pony Express had to meet some safety protocols. Curly was their best after all. Even went as far as to try and help him fine work else where. That’s what he explained to you.

Shame. Was just a normal bedroom. The only thing that made it special was it was bigger, and had a lock. Dammit all to hell.

That’s when you tried to think back on past memories of you and your husband. To try and recall any kind of special thing the ships carry. Oh how you felt so guilty for never paying enough attention. Made you feel stupid and useless, but you weren’t.

At least not in comparison to Jimmy.

With a deep breath, you managed to recall something. Something not long before the crash even. You had knocked on the cockpit door to enter it, and was greeted to your husband and Jimmy working. Curly was rambling on about something, while Jimmy kept eyeing the locker suspiciously. As if he wanted to get inside of it for some reason.

That’s your best lead now. God dammit was it a shitty one. The cockpit was stuffed to the brim with foam. But then again that’s the front of the cockpit. If you were careful, and cut the right spot, maybe you can access the locker.

It’s something. Something is better than nothing.

With the robe tossed aside, a change into your jump suit, gloves slipped on, and beanie pulled on to keep your head safe you would make your way to the kitchen. Card key tucked securely inside of your jumpsuit compared to a pocket.

Jimmy can’t know.

Can’t know that you were stealing the only knife that the ship had.

Was going to be a pain in the ass to cut that foam but you really had nothing better to do. So, you unlocked the cock pit and focused on remembering its layout.

“For Anya, for Curly, for Swansea, for Daisuke, and all our families back home.”

You would start the slow and agonizing cutting. Little by little. Just chopping away to try and reach the right side of the pit. To get to that locker and see what was inside. That locker was in the cockpit for a reason. It can only be accessed by the pilots for a reason. There was a reason.

Any time you felt like your arms would give out you thought back to Curly. How he didn’t really have arms anymore to begin with. How Anya was busy throwing up right now. How they needed you. They both needed you.

It had been well over a hour, but you managed to reach the locker. You allowed yourself a breather at the sight of it. Damn was that a pain, but it’ll be worth it. Right?

With your breather over you would use the key card to access the locker. Inside was….Honestly junk. That had you very disappointed. You were honestly ready to cry out of frustration, only to see there were a few locked cabinets inside.

Ones that needed codes.

Codes you knew.

Curly made you memorize them in case of an emergency. He just said to memorize them. That it’s meant to just unlock pin pads. That Pony Express never bothered to change them.

You went to the lower locker and typed it in.

Strange, there was nothing inside. Suppose whatever was inside was taken out. You wondered what could have been in there. Was a very small locker so maybe it was some code scanner or universal unlocking device. Just wasn’t big enough for something you hoped for.

A transmitter.

He prayed it was near the front of the ship. That a transmitter would stuck in the heart of the foam, or as far as just shatter on contact. They had to have a spare communicator. Pony Express had to follow SOME rules after all. Imagine the ship being discovered and the people who found it saw it was missing something as important as that.

So you typed in the code for the larger locker. You were kinda afraid of opening it. To be met with another empty void of metal and dust.

You took a deep breath, and opened.

There really was a god.

There was what you were looking for. A real deal communicator. It was real, it looked untouched and even had dust on it to show that Jimmy never reached it.

Before you grabbed it you made sure to close the door behind you. Just to be sure. Was the dead of night, well from what the clocks say, and everyone should be asleep. Even Jimmy had to sleep. You had to make you move now.

Remain calm, and focus.

You can’t fuck this up.

You snuggled yourself into the corner of the pit, with the communication device in your lap. You hooked the head phones onto your head, and turned it on.

As you waited for it to boot up you made sure you were positioned so that if anyone came through the door, for some reason, you’ll notice. As far as anyone was aware though this room was basically a wall. No purpose to enter. You should be safe, but you had to think ahead. Jimmy was unpredictable, and so full of himself.

Better to be over prepared than see what happens if Jimmy finds out what you are doing.

Couldn’t help but give a squeak of surprise when someone finally spoke to you.

“This is the Emergency Spaceship Retrieval Sector. What seems to be the problem?”

A woman, through the static, spoke to you. Tears of relief fell down your face but you forced yourself to remain focused. You can’t mess this up now. No way no how.

“This is Tulpar for Pony Express. We have suffered a crash about a month ago. From what I can recall we had been a little over four months into our twelve month journey-“ You immediately explained, as to best help them get an estimation on how far the ship had traveled.

“Alright, who may I be speaking to at this moment?”

Deep breaths.

“I am the Spouse to Captain Curly. It is me, Jimmy the co-pilot, Anya the nurse, Swansea the mechanic, and Daisuke our intern.” Deep breaths, keep things quick and to the point.

“Are you all in any immediate danger?”

You had to think about that a moment. Jimmy is a dangerous man. Who knows what he might do next if you don’t play along. So, you had to be honest. You felt guilty for telling the operator what happened. That Curly suffered greatly and needed immediate medical attention, how Anya was a victim of assault and required an abortion as soon as possible, and that the reason for it all was because of Jimmy. He crashed the ship, he raped Anya, he destroyed Curly, and god knows what he will do next.

“Estimated arrival time will be about a month. We have your exact location thanks to the communicator. Remain calm, and know that help is on the way. We have logged this down in the report. Take care of your crew the best you can, Captain.”

And she would log off. You would let your head thump back, and simply cried. Cried in pure relief and joy. That a real person heard you, and was aware of what’s going on. That if anything did go wrong that at least someone knows. Someone will know what happened.

There was hope.

Now was a matter of survival.

One month.

You all needed to survive one month.

One Month Until Rescue…

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[tadpolesonalgae]

Blood-borne

Azriel x reader

synopsis: When reports of attacks from strange beasts increase up in the desolate Illyrian Steppes, both Azriel and Cassian are tasked with clearing out the malicious creatures. But when Azriel is bitten by one and sweats break out, the High Lord realises perhaps he should have put more time into investigating the ancient species. More specifically, why the attacks started after a millennia’s worth of peaceful cohabitation, and what the consequences will be of their venom once again mixing with Illyrian blood.

warnings: blood, illness, eventual vampire! Az, generic healing descriptions

a/n: so this started off with I’ll Sleep When I’m Dead, then switched to Lust For A Vampyr, and finally ended with Sour Switchblade. Who knows where the next one will start 😔

word count: 7,975

It’s the dead of night. Peaceful. 

The moon is high in the sky—a gleaming, crooked, slash of a smile—and the city is dark, revelling in the beloved starlight far above, twinkling like millions of glazed, porcelain teeth, cast into a murky black sea and stitched into the heavens. Your windows are ajar, a cool night breeze circulating your chambers, keeping the air fresh and crisp even while you sleep. 

Azriel and Cassian will return in the early morning, eager to be rid of Illyria as soon as possible. Between the two of them Azriel will likely be the one more insistent on a swift departure, though you can’t imagine him ever voicing his distain. Luckily Cassian will be there to pick up on his non-verbal signals. 

You’ll have to check in with Feyre too, make sure she’s recovering well after her birth. Physically, the damage was extensive—if it wasn’t for the healing blood in her veins and Nesta’s intervention… Your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose, rubbing to soothe the growing headache before your arm slides across your face, elbow hanging crooked over your brow. She’s been on the mend but it’ll be a long while yet before she can even think about shifting again; longer yet before she can fly. As for her son…he’s healthy. Practically brimming with life. Everyone’s seen the twinkle in his round eyes. You’re certain he’ll grown into a menace soon enough. 

As for Elain… 

Guilt is a ball of iron in your chest. With everything that’s been happening as of late there’s been little time for either you or Madja to keep a proper eye on her. You just hope the two of you haven’t been too preoccupied with the more obvious matters to disregard the internal ones. It’s hard to gauge where she’s at, and you often have to rely on Nuala’s reports to hazard a guess at what might be going through the young female’s mind. Externally, she’s doing exceptionally well—keeping herself busy: baking, reading, walking, gardening, knitting, sewing, stitching, studying. She keeps herself fresh and put together, skin healthy and strong, hair lustrous and long, a vivid glow about her. No eye-bags nor sallow complexion, she communicates with the twins fine and only has rare days of reclusion where she retreats to her bedroom. By all means she’s doing well. 

It’s worrying. 

There’s so much to keep an eye on within this family, so many minor tensions to understand—more so than any other setting you’ve been placed in. Each day has its own set events to overcome, a new detail to examine, whether that’s a shift in expression as another family member enters the room or as blatant as the simmering hatred that so nastily permeates any room the High Lord and his eldest sister-in-law, Nesta, are placed in. 

Inhaling a dragging breath, your focus slips to the raindrops glittering over the window pane, the piercing light of the moon shimmering like tiny stars, the inky darkness of the city itself reflected upward from below like tight, vicious pupils, hundreds of tiny eyes pressed up to the glass. 

A thunderous crash comes from the floor below, the thump pulsing once through your chest, jerking you awake. 

At once your feet find the cool wooden floorboards, a nightgown strung over bare shoulders, not a second of movement wasted before the glowing faelight is cupped in your palm and the cold iron of the door handle is twisted, opening up into the yawning darkness of the corridor. A gust of rain-soaked wind funnels down the hallway, whipping hair from your face and the faelight flickers, shuddering once before pushing back against the looming shadows crowding the space. 

You hug your thin nightgown tighter, hurrying barefooted down the hall to the staircase, skin tightening to gooseflesh as a second gust of icy wind flushes through the house, howling from the front door that is cast wide. The rug is soaking beneath your feet as you press it closed, following the low light at the far end of the corridor to the kitchen, tiles colder than ice and soaked in puddles of water. 

Blood roars through your ears, pausing only for a second of analysis as you take in the rain-soaked scene. Shards of ceramics scatter the floor, a body splayed across the dining room table, two figures stood either side. It’s all you have time for before rushing forward, only now catching the sickening tang of iron in the air, the wind having previously blown the scent away and you tap the fae light twice in your palm before releasing it high above the slumped figure on the table. It’ll have to do for now. 

Sour, pale-yellow light fills the dining room and blood gurgles from Azriel’s mouth, wet gasps bubbling up from his chest. Rhysand is stood at one head of the table, hand clutched tight around Azriel’s, the High Lord’s towering figure curved crookedly over his brother’s, close enough their brows are touching and it’s clear enough Rhysand is doing what he can mentally, relieving pain, sorting through panic and adrenaline to find his shadowsinger some order to cling to. 

“What happened?” You ask Cassian, darting forward to closer examine Azriel’s state. As far as you can see there are two main wounds, one on the thigh of his left leg and a second having broken into his ribcage on the opposite side. By now the blood flow has already begun to wane, a countdown to his life force bleeding dry. If the wound had been gushing you would have felt more reassured. There’s far too little blood coming from wounds as deep as his. 

“There were more than we anticipated,” Cassian grits out. “Their nest was supposed to be on the far side of the mountain. Most of them got cleared out but two we’d already cut down must have been playing dead and bit on our retreat.” 

“The chimeras?” You ask, noting the splay of teeth marks that are puncturing the right side of Azriel’s torso, the fleshy grey of broken bone visible through one of the upper gouges. 

Cassian nods grimly and you seal your mouth shut to prevent from cursing. It’s bad luck to hear a healer curse—your job is to know what’s going on and get things better, not worse. Adrenalised panic only helps in temporarily keeping pain away. For now you have to do what you can, sealing the wounds, and hope that there’s no fractured enamel trapped inside. 

“Has he begun healing yet?” You ask, pressing the second and third fingers on both your hands either side what you guess must be the puncture mark of the beasts’ canine, two significantly larger than the others. 

“No. I think he’s lost too much blood to manage anything like that. He wouldn’t stop bleeding the entire flight down,” Cassian replied, voice raw. You wonder how long he was shouting to Azriel over the screaming storm outside in order to keep him conscious. Cassian’s dark eyes shift to his brother’s face, thick brows growing heavy as they stitch together, chest still heaving as adrenaline doubtlessly begins to seep away, leaving stagnant fear to lean on. “I thought he was going to die,” Cassian murmurs, so low you doubt either other male can hear. 

“He’s not going to die,” you assure, pushing growth into the surrounding tissue, guiding his open flesh back together like shaping clay. “Hold the wound on his leg until I can let these ones breathe.” 

A pulse of rejection seizes Azriel’s chest, blood flecking his sour-toned skin, Rhysand’s own knuckles turning bone white as he grips tighter to his brother. You’re lucky he’s here, or else things would be much worse. You don’t linger on the thought, your own breath beginning to labour as you move to the second puncture gouge in his chest, bone protruding from deeper in the flesh. 

A twinge of fear pieces your mind. 

Azriel groans on the table, wings deathly still where they’re splayed off the sides, the joints at their ends beginning to curl inward like a spider’s legs on the verge of death. Breath whistles in his lungs, blood no longer gurgling from his chest—barely moving at all. 

“Rhys!” You shout, pulling him from that mental bridge he’d been tending Azriel upon, gripping his shoulder roughly. “Pull away! Pull away!” 

The High Lord’s chest heaves as he forces himself back, releasing the soothing hold he’d had on Azriel’s mind, hands still clutched together. 

The Shadowsinger jolts on the table, body writhing as fresh pain blazes through flesh, senses no longer muted. It’s probably going to be the last thing he can hold onto. 

He’s fading. 

You look at Cassian, bloody fingers still pressing down on the wound, the miniature, magical stitches sewing tissue back together slowly making their way back to the surface, flesh returning to its healed state. “Fetch Madja,” you instruct, “We’ll have a better chance with both of us. Quick. And Rhys, I want you to find-”

A gasp comes from the doorway and the High Lord’s expression drains. It’s far from ideal to have her within such a high stress environment but it’s really a last resort. 

“Feyre, your blood,” you request urgently, feeling the weight as violet eyes cut into your side, but it’s necessary. It’s the boost that will save Azriel’s life, or at least sustain him until Madja arrives. “Only a small amount,” you say calmly, “he just needs enough to keep him alive until I have Madja to help.” 

Feyre swallows only once before she’s hurrying forward, blue-grey eyes rushing over the male on the table, tension in her jaw. “How much?” She asks, taking the blade Cassian hands her before he heads out into the night. “A slice across your palm. If you feel faint stop immediately.” 

She doesn’t hesitate, an excess of blood swelling in her hand before spilling into Azriel’s open mouth, pale lips soaked red. His throat works and you rush round to his other side, now pressing one palm to each gash. 

There’s no time to pace yourself in this encounter. 

It’s a one-time brawl, not a long-spanned battle.

————

Come morning your hands are aching, lungs tired and stretched, throat parched. You haven’t had such a long night since the end of the war. 

At least now you have free access to water, which you’d taken full advantage of when returning to your room. 

By the time Madja had arrived you’d had all the immediate injuries patched but there had still been little colour to Azriel’s complexion. Pallid save for the blood staining his open mouth. If Cassian hadn’t flown so swiftly; if Feyre hadn’t been there; if Azriel hadn’t the strength to hang on… It’s a small miracle he’s still alive and breathing. 

As soon as the sun touches the horizon you get yourself up, preparing to take over Madja’s shift after she’d seen him through the night. There’s still a drained pit where your magic should be, the small amount of sleep you’d managed to grab doing little to aid its replenishment, but it should be enough for today. 

It’s only upon seeing the bloodstained bandages wrapping Azriel’s body and leg that you realise all the rainwater from the night before must have been blood, soaking the rugs, the tiled floors, the bare skin of your feet. It’s a good thing those clothes had been stripped down and tossed into a pile before falling into sleep the night just past. 

“How is he?” You ask, stepping into Azriel’s room. The thick curtains are drawn, but even so it’s too light. 

“Asleep, for now,” Madja replies, raising from her chosen seat at the bedside. “Once I administered the pain reliever he settled down and hasn’t stirred since.” Worried eyes flicker over the male’s body, dark hands tucking her pencil away. You step forward, hand cupping her elbow carefully, “You deserve some rest, too.” Brown eyes don’t leave Azriel for a few moments, but eventually she nods, meeting your gaze, returning the touch on your arm. “You’re a competent healer, you know. You did well last night.” Madja smiles, nodding. “Good work.” 

The words remain in your mind all morning while you’re overseeing Azriel, routinely checking his temperature, keeping an eye on his breathing patterns, and pulse, but it’s not until well past midday that he stirs. 

You sit silently at his side. It’s his breathing that changes first, a deeper breath than the ones before bringing air deep into his lungs, lips peeling themselves apart. Then it’s a twitch in his brows, lifting once then furrowing over his eyes which screw themselves shut. A low groan rumbles in his throat and you allow yourself a subtle sigh of relief. His eyes are next, blinking open by less than a hair’s breadth, pupils gradually contracting to filter the light away until he can look around freely. It takes him longer than usual to get his bearings, but that’s to be expected. 

You wait until he’s ready to speak. 

“How bad is it?” Azriel rasps, his vocal cords chewed up. A smile curves your eyes, “You aren’t dead.” Air rattles in his lungs, a wheezing cough stuttering once from his chest and you offer the glass of water from his bedside. Azriel tilts his head to the side, and you retract the glass. 

“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” you tell him, turning to the notebook Madja had left for you. “First of all, what’s your name?” Azriel is silent and you look over to him, concern welling in your chest, but instead his mouth is pursed, expression flat. You sigh, fondness pushing up into your voice, “Come on. It’s routine.” 

“Azriel,” Azriel answers, giving you a deadpan look. You nod. “Do you remember where you were going yesterday?” 

A pause, then, “Illyria. Cassian and I were returning.” 

“Good, but you’re jumping ahead,” you warn, making hazel eyes brighten within the shadowy room. “Can you tell me the names of your two brothers?” 

“Cassian and Rhysand.” 

“Do you know where you are?” 

This time Azriel pauses, eyes darting around the room, his brow furrowing. “The River House?” 

You nod, “You’re in a guest bedroom since it was closer. I’m afraid it’ll probably be some time before we can move you to your own room.” But Azriel tips his head to the side again, “It’s fine.” 

“Alright,” you reply quietly, keeping your smile to yourself. “Next question. Just a few more,” you add when Azriel exhales heavily. “Do you remember what happened to you?” 

“Cassian and I were supposed to be investigating the recent attacks up in Illyria. There was supposed to be no contact.” 

You nod, smile faded. “Do you remember how you got your injuries?” 

“We thought we’d cleared out the ones that had found us, but we hit their nest by chance and there were too many. On the way out one that had been dead bit me.” You wait for him to continue but he stops, looking back to you. 

“Is that all?”

Azriel nods. 

You note down his story, along with the point his memory cuts out. “You don’t remember the second bite?” You inquire. Azriel tilts his head, no. “Do you remember getting here?” Azriel tilts his head again, no. 

You nod, sitting straighter. Pushing a reassuring expression to your features. “Well, the good news is you aren’t dead, as you’re aware.” Azriel rolls his eyes, then hisses, groaning as something hurts. “Your wings are also unscathed, which I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear.” The Shadowsinger grumbles something you don’t hear. Of course you’re glad he’s okay. 

“Right,” you announce, pushing the glass of water to him again which he drinks from reluctantly, “Are you feeling right enough to answer a few more questions for me, or would you like to rest?” 

“What time is it?” He asks. 

You glance at the clock on the wall, “It’s coming up for four in the afternoon.” 

“I can answer a few more questions,” he decides, allowing you to take the glass from his hand once he’s done. 

“Firstly, how are you feeling? Any pain or numbness? Changes in temperature? Aches?” You prompt, pencil at the ready. “My head is pounding,” he answers, eyes remaining only half open though you doubt it’s entirely from fatigue. “My lower body is numb, but my left foot feels cold. A dead cold.” You nod, pencil scratching. “My throat is sore, but my eyes and teeth are the most piercing.” 

Your brow furrows, “Eyes and teeth, huh… Are your eyes hurting as a part of your headache, or do you feel it’s different?” 

“It’s like I haven’t slept in two weeks, and something’s trying to suck them from my skull,” Azriel rasps. Scritch scratch. “And…you mentioned your teeth are hurting… Toothache? I’ll ask Cassian whether your jaw might have had a collision.” You glance over to Azriel who’s still pale. But alive. “What does it feel like? Bruising? Broken?” You’d know if it was broken, though. 

Azriel tilts his head. “More piercing. Here.” Azriel guides his tongue to his left canine. “And here.” He touches the right one. Your brows furrow then you remember to keep your face neutral. Azriel wheezes a sound that might have been a chuckle. “Anything else?” You ask, moving quickly past your error. Azriel tilts his head again, no.

“Alright then. It would be best for you to try and rest for a few more hours—think you can fall back asleep?” You ask, closing the leather-bound notebook and setting it upon the side table. The Spymaster sighs, tilting his head. You aren’t surprised. “You should try. Your body needs the rest.” You pause, considering. Then, “Do you feel well enough to try eating something? It would be good for you.” 

Azriel’s eyes slide shut, lips curling miserably and you have to muffle your laugh. “I don’t want to be eating plain chicken for the next few days,” he mumbles. 

“We need to be careful of your stomach, and your body needs nutrition. Protein.” You reason, “Be happy you aren’t having to drink your meals after mentioning that toothache.” Hazel eyes crack open just enough to send you a piercing glare, but it only results in an upward twitch of your lips. “Would you like me to fetch you anything in the mean time?” You add, knowing it’s not nice to be resting when there’s work that one could be doing. 

“My notebook should be on my desk—can you bring me the stack of reports that will be in the uppermost drawer on the right hand side? There’ll be the first thing you see when you look inside.” You raise a brow, mouth pursing. “Already trying to get back to work?” 

His lips twitch. “I have a lot of work to do.” 

“Well it’s going to have to wait,” you sigh, standing from your chair. “I can fetch your notebook and a book of your choosing—so long as you promise it won’t be work related.” 

“All my books are work related.” 

Your eyes narrow on the bedridden male, waiting for his mask to slip but it remains firmly in place. “Seriously? Not one?” 

Azriel shrugs. Or tries to. It’s more a light twitch of his wings. 

You sigh, nodding to yourself. “Alright. I’ll find something.” 

You turn to leave but a small shadow stirs in your periphery, dragging your attention back to him. Hazel eyes twinkle as the darkness lifts the silky dark hair from his brow, damp enough to appear like ink even in the shadowed room. You roll your eyes, pacing back over to his side, gently laying the back of your fingers across his brow. A beat passes, then Azriel’s eyes slide shut the rest of the way. Your touch lingers on his forehead, taking longer than necessary to gauge his temperature. 

“Your fingers are cool,” Azriel murmurs. Eyes only opening once you pull away again, silky hair flopping back into place. 

“You’re still a little feverish,” you tell him quietly, wary for his aching senses. “Hopefully it’ll pass swiftly enough, but if not your recovery will only take a few extra days.” A pause passes through the room, and you should really be writing that temperature down as your hourly mark. 

As if on cue, a warmed plate appears on the bedside table, and a look of sorrow dims Azriel’s already dismal features when he spots the plain, boiled chicken.

You offer a pitying smile which earns you a grunt of displeasure before you’re turning for the door, pausing on the threshold. “I’ll make sure it’s a good book,” you offer. 

Azriel’s expression turns dour, brow pinched, mouth thinning, and you can practically see his shadows beginning to brood. 

‘It had better be,’ he mouths, voice too worn out to reach you across the room. 

————

The next morning is the same routine, waking up as soon as the sun bleeds over the horizon, trickling pale gold into your bedroom on the first floor. It’s a swift execution of movements, washing, combing, and dressing before you’re out into the house and heading down the hall to Azriel’s temporary room. 

The handle twists before you have a chance to lay your hand on it, Cassian stepping out from the interior. Hazel eyes shift to you, worn and fatigued—usually it’s Azriel who accessorises with the hints of mauve beneath his eyes. “Did you get to speak with him?” You ask, voice kept low in case Azriel’s resting inside. The General nods, leathers stretching as he pushes the dark hair back from his brow, not yet tied back for the day and curling around his shoulders. “Thank you for keeping him alive,” Cassian says, equally quiet. 

“It’s my job,” you smile. “Besides, it wasn’t just me. If you three hadn’t been there it could just as easily have turned bad.” You nod to the door, the room where Azriel’s staying, “You helped more than you think, Cassian.” 

Cassian offers a stiff nod, then he’s straightening, about to leave. 

“I wanted to ask you something about that night,” you say, catching his attention. “Azriel mentioned his teeth hurting, specifically his canines—do you know if he might have collided with the floor after the first bite?”

“Not that I remember,” Cassian contemplates. “He stayed upright and ambulatory until we reached the tunnel exit.” 

You nod, thinking. “Alright… Well, we’ll be keeping an eye on him anyway. Hopefully it’s just a side effect of sinus pressure or headaches.”

Cassian nods his head once, then you’re going your separate ways. 

The curtains are still drawn, and Azriel still appears pale despite the shadows dimming colours. He’s asleep however, which is good, at least. 

After a brief exchange with Madja over how the night went you’re all ready and seated at his side. The plate from yesterday had been removed but the book is still on the side table, no sign that he started it that you can see. 

Like the previous day, Azriel doesn’t wake until long past midday, only rising to consciousness around sundown. 

His eyes are thick and heavy as they blink open, a darkened tinge to the whites that you can’t quite make out the colour of in shadow. The skin of his lips is cracked, peeling at the bow of his mouth, pulling back from his teeth. Despite the long bouts of sleep the dark smudges beneath his eyes don’t seem to be going anywhere, only further deepening, contrasted against the waning colour of his skin—the once rich brown now turning grey and ashen. The fever will be surfacing, regardless of suppression and attempted appeasement. 

His temperature had begun rising overnight, just tipping into the twenties as the moon slipped away.  A sure sign the burning flesh is on its way.

Azriel’s chest lifts and lowers shallowly, breath rasping from desiccated lips. A sheen runs across his pale features, brows appearing closer to oil than ink. Heavy lids slide shut as you guide the slick hair over his forehead to the side, the backs of your fingers laying tenderly down—it’s nowhere yet even near the breaking point.

“Azriel?” You whisper, “Can you hear me?” 

The restless flutter of his lashes alerts you to his awareness, eyes stirring beneath near translucent lids, mauve capillaries webbing through the thin flesh. He creeks himself apart—he’s gotten abruptly worse. Bloodshot hazel tries to shift about the room but he groans, eyes choosing to remain stagnant in his skull instead.

“How are you feeling?” You murmur, fingers retracting, splaying the notebook across your lap, pencil in hand. “My head…” Azriel rasps, voice more ragged than when you last heard it, like something’s come along and ripped it to shreds, “…it’s splitting.” Your brow furrows—Cassian reported he hadn’t received a blow to the head. He seemed appropriately injured yesterday, but for some reason he’s so much worse. Could the meat have been off? Surely not. 

“Madja told me she administered a balm to your skin before dawn, is the rest of your body aching?” You inquire, considering applying a fresh layer to ease the pain that’s begun to bubble back up. 

“My stomach’s starving…” Beneath the cream cotton covers his arm passes over his abdomen, resting. “It’s like someone’s grinding me up between stones.” 

“Okay hold still, the balm might feel cold but I’ll apply some more.” Already you’re pulling back his covers, preparing to begin warming the cream between your palms to encourage its goodness to act swiftly but something catches your attention. While there’s no need for bandages over his torso, his thigh has been wrapped and sanitised, now mottled with something dark and not-quite blood coloured. More concerning is the black tissue stitching together the sections where his stomach had been gauged open, thin threads of necrotic flesh lacing his surface. 

Your jaw bites itself together, cold overtaking your spine. Whatever’s happening to him is different from general infection. 

Lips part as a soft curse slips out—venom? Impossible. The beasts have never been reported to posses glands like that. But it’s the only explanation. 

Considering explanations though…was the reason for their seemingly random switch in nature ever understood? Before now the chimeras never bothered the Illyrians, cohabiting up in the steppes peacefully, as far as you’re aware. What catalysed this sudden shift in nature? 

Another noise of deep-rooted pain groans through his chest, oil-black brows condensing to a point in the middle of his forehead, skin shining with the movement as feverish sweat breaks across his features. Your own brows furrow, heart beating frenetically, “Azriel…?” 

His teeth grit, jaw grinding as if in pain, and his breathing becomes ragged; irregular and torn at the seams. Again you lay your fingers across his brow, and he’s noticeably hotter than before, almost burning in comparison. 

Water. He needs water. 

“Azriel,” you try but his eyes are shut tight, the fabric of his sheets darkening in a close perimeter around his body, sweat staining the cloth. “Azriel I need you to drink some water,” you urge softly, taking the glass and sliding your palm beneath his head, inclining him from the pillow and bringing the chilled glass to parched lips. He drinks deeply, polishing off the water swiftly and you stand to go in search of a rag to lay across his brow. It brings only a temporary reprieve before he’s panting once again. Teeth worry your lower lip. 

Whatever’s happening, it isn’t normal. 

“Azriel, I’m going to speak with Rhysand briefly. I’ll be back in three minutes,” you tell him gently, pressing the glass back into his palm. “Drop this on the floor if you need me sooner; I’ll hear it.” 

Then you’re off into the hallway. Either male will do, but something was wrong with those creatures, and your instincts are telling you it needs to be gotten to the bottom of, and swiftly. 

A life might depend on it. 

————

It must be the goodwill of the Mother than allows both Cassian and Rhysand to be at that moment in the latter’s office, heads turning when the door is thrown wide. 

Apology passes briefly through your eyes but as soon as you step foot in the room it vanishes, door clicking shut as you hurry into the room. “Cassian, I need to you get me one of those chimeras. Dead or alive, but preferably dead. Something’s wrong with Azriel and I think it’s to do with the change in behaviour we’ve been seeing from those animals.” 

Violet eyes flicker, “What’s wrong with Azriel?” 

“I don’t know,” you inform, expression hard. “His flesh is turning necrotic in places around the wounds and his fever isn’t breaking. Madja reported his temperature increasing around two o’clock this morning and the way he is now makes it seem as if he’s on the third day and untreated.” You turn to Cassian. “I need one of those Chimeras to examine, as quick as possible. They aren’t supposed to carry venom but it seems a mutation is the only reasonable explanation, in which case we need to figure out what that means and fast, or else we won’t have enough time to figure out what that means for your brother and to cure it.” 

The General glances once to the High Lord, sharing a nod before Cassian’s making a swift departure, urgency underlying his movements in a way you hope won’t get him wounded. It makes you call after him. “Whatever you do, don’t be reckless. If you get hurt up there or bitten then both of you will be at risk. This isn’t a time to be cutting corners.” 

A muscle in his jaw feathers. “I know.” 

Then he’s gone. 

Sweat glides down your spine, if he’s as swift as he was the night they returned then the journey there and back should take under an hour. Add on the time to locate and kill a chimera…a few hours, tops. With the rate Azriel’s fever is developing, it’s all you can spare. 

Violet eyes are strained when you next meet them, but you’ve little time for further apology as you ask, “How is Feyre doing?” 

“Resting,” Rhysand replies, the stern grit of his voice telling you he already knows why you’re asking. Your jaw tightens, shoulders tensing at that tone, something inherent wanting to turn away from that fiercely protective look in his face, warning you not to suggest what you know you have to. 

“If worst comes to worst,” you say, quietly. 

Rhysand’s expression doesn’t give for a long while, and you fight to keep firm. Until tension flickers through his violet eyes. “It’s her choice,” he relents, tension taut, the whites of his knuckles disagreeing with his words. “But if she tries to give too much, if you don’t stop her then I will.” 

You nod grimly, understanding the order well enough. 

If Feyre tries to give Azriel more blood than she can afford, you’re to pull her back.

Even if it costs his brother’s life.  

————

The sun is down, and Cassian still isn’t back. 

The rain lashing at the windows and snarling round the house feels like an omen, shadows dancing like snakes across the floor every time a bolt of lightening fractures the sky. Deadened leaves whip through the howling winds, a deluge crashing down on Velaris. 

On the bed, shivering and drenched, is Azriel, pallid skin glistening with a deathly pallor. His surrounding sheets have been doused in sweat, a sour, sick smell filling the room, the stagnant odour of the ill. The black threads of flesh have begun spreading further, thickening into sluggish stumps, streams of necrosis reaching across his stomach; snaring his far leg. 

If Cassian isn’t back soon, you’re going to have to try and cut it out from the roots. 

Madja lays her hand over the slope of your shoulder and you exchange glances; she’s come to the same conclusion you have, her normally warm features for once showing a grim set. You turn your body from Azriel, dipping your head so he won’t be able to hear, though you doubt he’s in any state to eavesdrop. 

“How much longer?” You whisper lowly, eyes glued to the dark floorboards, unable to lift them any further. Madja glances once over her shoulder, a heavy silence filling the air. “Minutes,” she answers. “He has minutes to get back here.” You swallow—those are near impossible chances. The odds were steep enough without the crashing storm outside hindering visibility. 

“You’ll take his stomach?” You whisper, pushing past the lump in your throat. Madja nods, “Fetch two bowls of water. I’m going to speak with Feyre; see how she’s holding up.” She’s probably quickly becoming the last gleam of hope to give Azriel a fighting chance of surviving until Cassian arrives. 

Or until he bleeds out from the incisions you’ll be forced to make to cut away the rot. 

Azriel stirs in the bed once you return from the washroom, setting the second bowl down and approaching his side. Once more, you lay the backs of your fingers across his dampened forehead, sticky sweat smearing your skin but it’s nothing compared to the fierce heat radiating from his skull. His temperature has been teetering into the forties for a while now. 

Something like a groan strains through his chest, the tendons in his throat flexing as he swallows, and you lift his head from the pillow, bringing the chilled glass to his peeling lips. He’s too weak to push the drink away, hardly strong enough to swallow, and a cool trickle slips from the side of his mouth, streaming over his jaw and into the cushion. Azriel tilts his head when he’s done, and you pull away, setting the glass down upon the cramped side table. 

Hazel eyes crack themselves open, except now they’re a mix of yellow and black—pupils blown so wide they’re practically swallowing his irises, the whites of his eyes souring to a sickening yellow, like the congealed scum of rotten milk, red rimmed and watery. 

‘Hot,’ he mouthes. Barely. It’s the near silent touch of his tongue to the roof of his mouth that gives the word away. 

You don’t know what to do anymore. There’s nothing else you can do, besides offering water. 

“Azriel, can you hear me still?” You ask, crouching down to be by his side, mixing your hand with his. He groans, fingers weakly flexing around your own. It’s a small piece of hope,  that he isn’t yet completely gone. You lean closer. “Just a little longer, Az,” you whisper, thumb swiping back and forth gently over his burning skin, “You need to keep going. You can’t leave them behind.” 

His hand is silent in your own.

Where is Cassian? 

A shadow careens past the window and a flashing red thud slams into the front garden, the doors being blown open a few moments later as fresh rain and howling wind whips inside, sparing not a second in removing mud-caked boots or blood-slicked leathers before he’s marching into the house. From the floor below you hear his name called out, but there’s no cause for relief. 

Voices murmur and footsteps hurry, boots clumping about on the lower floors and you hurry to the bedroom door, looking just in time to see Rhysand near the top of the staircase. “Does he have it?” You call, the pound of your heart making your voice breathless. Rhys nods but his eyes are dark and unusually shadowed, “He has it.”

 It’s only when he descends the case that you spot the thick book he had clutched beneath one arm on his far side, as if anxious to keep it as hidden as possible. You want to follow, to see the chimera for yourself, lend Madja a hand in trying to understand what’s mutated within the beast to cause such a drastic shift but that’s not your job at the moment. Your job is to look after Azriel. Even if all you can do is sit by his side and watch as he dies. 

Tension stitches your jaws together, but you force yourself to turn away, shutting the door once more to return only for a scream to claw and rip from your throat. 

Blunt teeth are digging into the flesh of his forearm, biting and gnawing as blood paints his lower jaw, spilling down onto his chest, trickling along his arm. You run forward, trembling fingers searching for that point that will spasm the muscle enough for his jaw to unlock. 

“Azriel!” You scream, “Azriel stop! You need to stop it!” 

Thick blood oils your fingers, his teeth releasing the bitten flesh only to clamp down a fraction of a second later, locking themselves in place as muscle flexes in his jaw, straining beneath the pressure he’s clamping down with. You fumble, hands shaking as he tries to rip himself apart. You search again, fingers digging into his jaw but he writhes on the bed, wings flaring wide enough to send everything on the side table smashing to the floor, throwing you to the ground in a mess of fractured glass and gushing, freshly bloodied water. 

The leather-bound notebook is soaked, ink bleeding across the pages but that’s not what you currently care about. Instead you grip the book from the floor, flying to your feet as you surge forward, nails screaming out in pain as you try to forcibly pry his teeth apart, pushing the spine of the book forward. 

“Azriel…!” You hiss, straining against his sudden display of strength. “Bite! Bite down on this…!” 

For a few dreadful seconds it looks like he’s going to bleed himself to death, but then his teeth release just long enough for you to shove the hard leather of the thick notebook into his mouth, vicious canines stabbing through the outer layer in one swift bite. Clamping down firmly. 

There’s no time for relief, no time for fixing the jagged mess on the floor, nor for celebration, as you take in the fresh blood staining his lower face. Azriel’s wounded arm tries to lift from the bed but more blood gushes out and you have to pin it down until the message reaches his pain-twisted mind and he uses the other to change the positioning of the book in his mouth, angling and biting, slowly chewing the leather to pieces, digging his canines into the notebook repeatedly as if he’s teething.

Footsteps pound along the corridor just as you finish forcing Azriel’s flesh back together, door flying wide as Madja bustles through, a glass vial of pure black liquid grasped in her weathered hand, Rhysand just a step behind. Neither ask what’s happened, why there’s so much blood staining sheets and flooring and sallow skin. 

Dark brown eyes flash once over the Shadowsinger before Madja’s figuring her order—one both you and Rhys know before it even leaves her mouth—“Hold him down.” Rhysand takes the side the Azriel’s leg wound is on while you stick where you’ve remained, but even with you leveraging all your weight over his bloody, shredded arm it’s near impossible to keep him down. 

The book comes away in tatters when Madja manages to pry it from his mouth, jaws snapping, black ruby teeth glittering wildly as he searches for something to bite, all the while the storm roars on outside, thunder rumbling through miserable grey skies, so deep it’s in the floorboards. 

“Rhys,” you hiss out, “can you do anything?” If he can slip inside and provide even a temporary moment so Madja can get the remedy down the Shadowsinger’s throat. The High Lord’s jaw tightens with the effort it’s taking to keep his brother down, teeth gritting as he shakes his head, “there’s nothing to go into. It’s just wind and shadow in his mind.” 

“We have to do something,” you force out, looking between them. “He’s not going to drink it like this-”

“And we can’t waste this vial,” Madja finishes grimly. 

Rhys’ head lowers, hair falling over his brow like dozens of spider legs, tension gripping his shoulders, then he’s bellowing Cassian’s name, the roar so loud you’re surprised the room doesn’t collapse in on itself, heart pounding in your chest like a war drum. A few moments later heavy boots are lopsidedly clumping up the stairs, the General swaying as he hauls himself through the door. “Take her place. Keep him down,” Rhysand orders through gritted teeth. It seems Cassian’s barely keeping himself conscious, but still he manages, no time to pause. 

As soon as Cassian’s hands have taken over you retreat, darting around Azriel’s thrashing wing to be at Madja’s side. His blackened eyes are wild, back arching from the bed as pain lances through his body, teeth still flashing with furious hunger. 

“Azriel,” you yell, crusted palms laying either side his mouth, cupping his jaw as you attempt to still the wild thrashing of his body without losing any fingers. “Azriel, look at me. Look at me.” Blown out pupils stare up at you, yellowed eyes sore and so, so wrong. “That’s it,” you manage, forcing your voice to calm, “You know us. You remember us.”

His upper lips curls in a snarl and blood seeps from the broken skin, so dried out and desiccated that it splits at the slightest stretch. 

“You remember us,” you repeat, thumbs stroking back and forth, swiping the edges of his mouth tenderly, “Don’t you? Remember Cass and Rhys? They’re your brothers.” Oil-black brows narrow, but the two other males are having better luck holding him down than before, so you push forward. 

Your hold tightens and you lean closer, almost sharing breath. “Do you remember your name?” You ask softly, soothingly stroking his cheeks, ignoring the blood soaking your hands. “It’s Azriel,” you whisper, “You’re Azriel.” 

His eyes shutter, struggling again but you hold firm. “You just need to hold on a little longer, Azriel. We have a remedy, but you need to drink it first.” Sharp, black eyes scan your features, cutting back and forth across your expression, his face still twisted in partial fury, shadow and wind roaring outside but his struggling has lessened enough for the antidote to be administered. 

Yet as soon as you pull away his wings flare outward, the bed creaking as the powerful limbs thrash, a vicious snarl ripping from his throat and both Cassian and Rhysand are nearly knocked back from the force of his retaliation. 

“Azriel…” You plead, nails digging into his cheeks, dragging his attention back. “Azriel, please,” you beg, “hold still.” Icy breath repeatedly hits your chin, his panting becoming shallower and shallower by the second, yet he shows no signs of giving in. Pure panic drips down your spine, hands shaking as you hold onto him for dear life. 

“We have to try,” Madja whispers, not directed at you. In your periphery, Rhysand nods in agreement, but it won’t work. He’ll send the vial flying, just like the glass and the bowl, shattering on the floor, destroying the precious cure with it. 

A hot tear splashes down onto Azriel’s bloody cheek, a second droplet falling soon after, soundless compared to the raging storm outside. Thunder and lightening zeroing to silence as you look at him.

Thumbs swipe back and forth across his skin. He can’t die. 

You swallow, sparing a moment to look at Madja. “Give it to me,” you whisper. 

Madja hesitates. 

“Let me give it to him,” you plead, able to feel Azriel’s sluggish pulse beneath your hands. 

Silence hangs in the air, then Rhysand nods. “Try.” 

Beneath all of you, Azriel begins to stir again, the soothed state you’d gotten him into already so quickly slipping away. Slipping through your fingers. 

Madja offers you the vial, and in one movement you’ve poured the contents into your own mouth. 

The liquid is thick and congealed across your tongue, vile and putrid but then you’re pressing your mouth to Azriel’s, his bloody lips freezing beneath your own, peeling and ripped in places but they part for you, your thumbs still stroking as you tilt yourself over him. 

Your mouth opens for his, and the remedy flows into him, spilling down his throat. 

This time both Illyrians are ready and braced as Azriel writhes and thrashes on the bed, lip curling in revulsion as the foul tasting liquid is swallowed down his throat, wings flaring and flapping, knocking back and forth so violently the bed groans like it might finally give way. Fury twists through Azriel’s features and you recoil as his fangs sting at your lips, hot, fresh blood bubbling into his mouth before you can even realise he’s bitten you. 

You pull away, forcing your hands over his chest, Madja now beside Rhys as you all try to keep him down. Heaven knows what he’s mad enough to do with the pain carving his mind apart. 

By the time he settles, you’re all breathless. But it’s done. He took the remedy. 

Slowly, you stand, each of you bracing as if he might start back up at any second and you need to be ready to jump back into place. But he remains still. Dead still, but you can pick out the small pulse in his throat. You cling onto that pulse, desperately.

At last you all pull away, and Rhysand drags a hand down his face, you and Madja glancing to one another with a mix of emotion. To your left, Cassian sways, then his legs give out, body thudding  as his knees his the floor, the rest of him giving out now the task is complete. You’ve each done everything you can; pushed to the limit, and possibly beyond.

“Mother’s grace,” Madja whispers in thanks, and you do the same, sending a prayer to the sky, hoping it will be enough. She nods to herself once, twice, three times. Easing in a few steadying breaths before straightening, swallowing. “Cassian,” she names, addressing the body on the floor and you don’t fault her for her breathlessness, “we need to find him a bed.”

You nod, panting. “Rhys and I can manage,” you breathe, exhausted. “Can you take cleanup in here?” You ask, moving with Rhysand to grip Cassian beneath his arms, only now spotting the blood on his leathers, though it’s too much of a mess in here to judge who it belongs to. 

Madja nods solemnly, and between you and the High Lord, you manage to lift the fearsome General from the ground, hefting him out into the hallway, taking the room immediately next door and laying Cassian on the bed there. 

You slump against the wall, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand when you realise the foul taste is still there, having been obscured by the metallic flavour of your own blood. 

Rhysand remains stood over Cassian, looking down at his brother with an expression you can’t read. It’s none of your business, either way. 

Your nose wrinkles, pulling your sleeve over your hand and spitting into the fabric, wanting to rid yourself of the vile taste. “Fuck. What was in that?” You gag, looking forward to a glass of water to clean your mouth out and a wash. 

The hairs at the nape of your neck prickle, and you lift your head to find dark violet watching you from across the room. You’d apologise for cursing, but that doesn’t seem to be the reason for his look. 

Tentatively, you straighten. “Do you know?” 

Silence hangs in the air. Then he relents.

“Blood.” Rhysand murmurs. “Chimera blood.”

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[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Hero and Hope (Part 2/5)

(part 1) (part 3)

The next time you go hunting, the Bahrs go with you.

“It’s really fine,” you protest. It’s early enough in the morning that the air carries a bite. With any luck, they’ll think the redness in your cheeks comes from the chill rather than embarrassment. “I’m not even going far in. It’s Hera’s birthday coming up and she likes squirrel…”

“You’re going to catch a squirrel without a blade?” Mr. Bahr – Ivan – asks. He tightens the strap on Mrs. Bahr’s back, making sure the quiver of arrows is snug along her spine. He pats her shoulder when he finishes and beams at you. “Are you very fast?”

Yes, you are. You’ve noticed that you’re even faster lately as your 15th birthday marches closer and closer. You purse your lips. “I set traps.”

“Don’t mind him, Isla,” Mrs. Bahr -Marie -  says. She fondly shoves Ivan off the porch of the orphanage so she can get down. “He’s always joking.”

“What sort of traps?” Ivan asks. He runs a critical eye over your coat and pack. “Will that be warm enough?”

You’re not sure if your coat is warm enough for the weather or not. Another rising power: you’re nearly impervious to the cold. You shrug. “I’ll be fine. And just simple snares and stuff.”

“We can’t wait to see,” Ivan declares. He gestures towards the road. “Lead the way.”

You bite your lip. It’s clear that they knew you were going hunting today by their garb. Both are in sturdy, worn leather with swords on their hips and bows along their backs. They probably heard from Director Sarah and came specifically to make sure you kept your promise not to hunt alone. But… “The other kids will be sorry they missed you.”

“We’ll see them when we return victorious with birthday squirrels,” Ivan says.

“What a sentence,” Marie says dryly.

You aren’t going to convince them to let you go alone. You silently lead the way towards the orchard. Or, rather, as silently as you can. Ivan talks the whole time, asking questions about the apple trees and pointing to ducks flying overhead. You answer the questions you know the answer to and hum whenever you don’t. You wish you knew more about the vegetation, but the most you can tell Ivan is whether or not something is poisonous.

“Those ones,” you say, nodding to the low, circular leaves Mr. Bahr is pointing to, “are tricky. The real ones taste kind of sweet. The other kind that looks like that makes your stomach cramp for three days straight.”

“How can you tell the difference?” Ivan asks.

You shrug. “You can’t. I just tell the younger kids to bring it to me before eating it. Usually, I trade it for something actually edible.”

Marie, trailing behind you both, makes a noise of interest. “Usually?”

You feel your ears go hot. “Sometimes I’ll try it for them just to see if they can eat it. I’ve had enough of the bad one that it doesn’t affect me so much.”

“You try it?” Marie’s voice is sharp. “Isla, there has to be a better way.”

“Not really,” you say. You scratch the back of your head and quicken your step. You’re almost to the tree line of the woods. “The kids like sweet things. If I didn’t give in occasionally, they’d try it themselves. At least this way they check in with me first.”

“I still don’t think—”

“Sounds like Marie and I’ll be bringing some sweets along with us next time,” Ivan interrupts cheerfully. He points past the last apple tree about a dozen feet ahead. “Looks like the path ends there?”

“There’s an animal track about ten feet into the woods,” you say. You’re uncomfortable with Marie’s reaction. You know it’s not smart to eat poisonous plants, but what else were you supposed to do? Your worst fear is that the kids will one day get hungry enough to eat them without caring about the pain. Your shoulders round. “We’ll need to be quiet once we’re there.”

“I’m the best at being quiet,” Ivan says. He elbows Marie. “Right, Marie?”

“Right,” Marie says. Her voice is still a little strained, but you can tell she’s trying to hide it. “That’s why I married you.”

“That’s a lie,” Ivan says. He stage-whispers to you, “She married me for my amazingly dashing good looks.”

Marie huffs a laugh but doesn’t say anything else. You’ve entered the forest.

You were worried on the way that you’d need to tell Ivan that he needs to be quiet in the forest. You needn’t have been concerned. Both adults are silent and walk with quiet steps, their dark eyes alert on their surroundings. They move through the undergrowth gracefully, their years of experience showing in every step. You try to copy Marie’s soft footfalls as best you can and are pleased when your steps get a little quieter.

The Bahrs watch as you pick places for your traps. Ivan silently points to one of your knots, eyebrow raised. Guessing what he’s asking, you undo the knot and then redo it slowly. He nods in satisfaction and then gestures for you to give him the rope. Curiously, you do. Ivan completes the same knot, fingers steady through each step. When he’s done, he presents it to you proudly as if to say, See? I did it!

It makes you do something you very rarely do in the woods. You smile.

After setting the traps you take the Bahrs to your favorite resting spot. The clearing lies just by the edge of the shallow part of the river. About a mile downstream the banks widen and the North River joins this one, making it a dangerous place of rapids. Here, however, the water moves slowly and is shallow enough to be warmed by the sun.

Finally, you speak. “Shouldn’t be too long. Maybe an hour or two and then we can go check on them.”

“Is this where you found the horned rabbit?” Marie asks. You sit on a large, flat rock by the river, but she stays standing. Her eyes carefully scan the perimeter of the clearing.

“Not quite. That was near the hills.” You point. “Fifteen minutes that way.”

“That’s close,” Ivan says. He frowns, concerned. “Was that the first demon you’ve seen here?”

“No.” When the Bahrs turn to you in alarm, you shrug. “Not all the time, but demons come here. They’re usually not interested in me though.”

“But the horned rabbit was?” Marie asks.

Interested is an understatement. You’re not an idiot. You know that demons are dangerous. That’s why you usually avoid them when you spot them. Normally they’re content to let you pass by, but not the horned rabbit. It followed you nearly all the way back to the orchard before you realized you needed to do something before it attacked you. “Yeah.”

“What other types of demons do you see here?” Ivan asks. His voice is light, but he’s looking at you with a very serious expression. “Maybe howling bats?”

“I hear them sometimes,” you say, “but I don’t stick around after dark.” Ivan and Marie exchange dark looks. You fidget on the rock. “What?”

“This is protected land, Isla,” Marie says. She purses her lips. “No demons should be south of those hills.”

“What other types have you seen?” Ivan asks again. He comes to squat by you so he can look you in the eyes. “And when?”

“Just horned rabbits.”

“Are you sure?” Marie asks. She runs a hand over her hair, slicking back the fly aways. “Horned rabbits aren’t usually sighted alone.”

You hesitate. It’s true that the horned rabbits are the only demons you’ve seen, but… “There have been some signs lately, but I don’t know if they’re demons.”

Ivan’s eyes sharpen. “What?”

“Wolves,” you say. Both Bahrs stiffen, hands going to their swords. You speak quickly. “But I’ve never seen them! They might be regular wolves. I found the tracks at the base of the hill, and some bones, but they were a week old probably.”

“We’ll need to ask the Lord to investigate,” Marie tells Ivan. She looks deeply unhappy. “The patrol doesn’t cover this far south.”

“An oversight,” Ivan says grimly. He reaches out absently and ruffles your hair. It startles you, but it feels nice. Ivan makes an effort to smile at you. “Good eyes, Isla. Is there anything else you’ve noticed changing in the forest lately? Even something not demon related?”

Something funny is happening in your chest. Good eyes, Isla. You wrack your brain for anything else. “I haven’t seen any other tracks or anything and there’s only been four or five horned rabbits this season.”

Marie makes a small noise in her throat. When you turn to look at her, she hides whatever expression she’d been making. “That’s a lot. Did you need to use your sharp stick on all of them?”

Ivan startles. “Sharp stick?”

You rub the back of you neck. “Just two.” You look up at the sky. You only had a sharp stick that day, but there are times when you’ve come out here with a knife. Knife days are for when you’re looking for bigger game.  “I’ve been pretty lucky hunting lately, now that I think about it. There’s been more deer and regular rabbits south of the river.”

“What do you mean ‘lately?’”

“The past month.”

Ivan and Marie exchange another long look. Before you can ask them what’s wrong, Ivan turns to you with another smile.

“Say,” he says, “what do you think about trying to bag something bigger than a squirrel today? You ever fire a bow before?”

Your eyes widen. “No.”

“You can use mine,” Marie says, pulling it from her shoulder. She holds it out to you. “We’re nearly the same height. The draw may be a bit heavy for you—or not.”

Embarrassed by the shock in her voice, you release the string. “I’m, uh, stronger than I look.”

“Good,” Ivan says. “That’ll make it easier to actually catch something today.”

The next few hours are the most fun you’ve ever had in the woods. Marie and Ivan go over every part of the bow with you, explaining the weight of it, the flexibility, the length. Marie and Ivan carry several different types of arrows with different tips, all good for different types of shooting. They let you practice on a tree across the river and each time you’re closer to hitting the center of it, they compliment how fast you’re learning, how accurate your eye, how steady and consistent your draw.

By the time they let you hunt with it, you feel like you’re walking on clouds.

The feeling lasts even after you return to the orphanage, a deer slung over Marie’s shoulders and your hands full of squirrel. There’s a pleasant ache in your back and arms from practicing with the bow. You can’t stop smiling. Everything Ivan says is out of the blue and Marie’s tired responses make it all funny.

At one point you’re walking behind them, watching their shoulders brush when the path gets a little too narrow. They’re smiling at each other and talking softly and for a wild, wonderful, awful moment, you imagine that you can keep this. You aren’t sure what this is. Their attention and their companionship, their gentle guidance and the way they speak to you like you’re an adult?

After Hera’s birthday dinner, the Bahrs stay extra late to help clean up and to spend time with the younger kids. You are still feeling a sort of bone deep happiness you’ve never felt before. Everyone is full and sleepy-eyed from the amount of food you were able to put on the table. The kids gather around their slates in the common area, learning a new type of drawing game from Ivan and Marie.

Hera comes up to where you’re leaning on the doorway. Quietly, she slips her hand into yours. You squeeze it.

“Thanks for the squirrel,” she says quietly.

You lean down and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Happy Birthday.”

She hums and watches the fun in the living room for a long moment. She’s eleven now, three years older than you were that Winter. She’s the second oldest in the orphanage and, for the first time, you wonder if she feels the same sort of responsibility as you.

“I’m happy for you, you know,” Hera says.

You make a low questioning noise in your throat.

“The Bahrs will be good to you,” Hera says. She looks up at you evenly, a small smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. “You deserve that, Isla.”

Every muscle in your chest locks, chasing away the pleasant languidness you’d been feeling. “That’s not—they’re not—”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Hera says. She stands on tiptoe so she can throw her arms around your shoulders, hugging you like she did when she was five. She whispers in your ear, “But I would be happy if they did.”

She lets go of you before you can tell her she’s being ridiculous, skipping into the room to join the drawing game.

You feel out of sorts for the rest of the night.

-----------------------.

(part 1) (part 3)

Thanks for reading! The full story is already posted on my Patreon (X)! If you'd like to support me, please consider checking out my page!

This month will be seeing two main things update on Patreon first: Dandelion (x) and my Cinderella story (masterpost coming soon!) updates for both coming later this week!

[b38rman]

THROUGH THE MOTIONS [pt. 2] ⋆.˚𖦹⋆✮⋆.˚ Ollie Bearman

series tags - ollie bearman x afab!reader, enemies to lovers, slight angst, slight sickfic moment, eventual smut, explicit sexual content

synopsis - Between you getting an international driving permit and a rental car or having to spend time carpooling with the Ferrari Driver Academy co-driver you despised the most, you just had to choose the more difficult option. (Spoiler alert: it didn’t have anything to do with getting the permit or a rental car.)

parts - 1 | 2

rating - part 2 - explicit

warnings -  18+!!! minors dni, alcohol, driving without an international license! (please get the right paper work lol), explicit sexual content, unsafe sex

a/n - this video lowkey fired me up to write this. anyways, enjoy this filth !

Everything was almost annoyingly normal in the next few days—or at least, as normal as you and Ollie could be. It was as if both of you were just going through the motions, not caring to talk about what had just transpired. It was infuriating that you didn’t talk about it, but it was just as daunting to begin thinking about talking about it. 

Ollie would pick you up, bring you home, and you two would repeat that routine without a word uttered aside from absolutely necessary one-worded small talk. It was almost peaceful if it didn’t carry a heavy tension in the air. 

Sometimes you just wished you could figure out what he was thinking. Other times, you couldn’t help but wonder if he wanted to know what was in your mind too. 

The next time Ollie picked you up was for a joint birthday celebration for two Prema engineers. The house where it was being held was quite a long drive away, and you couldn’t figure out how to get there for the life of you. Maybe it was uncharacteristic of you to text Ollie if he was going and if he could bring you, but again, you had no other options and he was bringing you to work practically everyday anyway; what was one more drive?

You waited out in the cold evening air in an outfit you wished you’d brought a thicker jacket for, and the familiar vehicle pulled up again like clockwork.

When you opened the door, your breath hitched in your throat as your eyes landed on Ollie. 

He was in a baby blue button down that looked just swanky enough to make him look more polished than usual. His curls were a bit tamer than usual too, like he’d been running his hands through them incessantly, and his cologne was a tad bit more noticeable. It made you feel like you were being flayed alive that he looked just that good. 

You got in the seat, buckling yourself in, trying not to look at him directly again as if he’d become the sun himself. 

“Why’d you give me that look?” You could hear the grin in his voice as he started the car. It filled you with a guilty, eye-roll inducing feeling—but you felt your mouth tugging up into a smile like you couldn’t control your body anymore. 

You squeezed your eyes closed, like it could stop the feelings rushing through your gut.

“You look—“ Nice. Cute. You clean up pretty decent. “—less horrible.”

His laugh was obviously complacent, like he knew he fished another ounce of vulnerability out of you. Still, you felt like that first time was more his fault than yours. After all, it was his fault he looked for you, and it was his choice to stay. 

“You too?” He answered back.

The car ride was exactly 52 minutes. You had to pretend you didn’t want to throw up for a whole 52 minutes.

When you got to the party, it was all the same with you and Ollie. It wasn’t like a few remarks were going to change anything, much less his heroics to make you drink tea when you were sick in order to make you feel even just a little bit better. 

You were convinced nothing could drastically change your dynamic. Maybe you felt like his presence, no matter how annoying it could be at times, had grown into something reliable and comfortable—like a pair of ugly yet useful boots that needed to make your toes bleed before you could walk in them.  

To an outsider, it would’ve looked like you were a couple emerging from the car. Still, there was no getting your door, helping you with your things, or holding your hand as you stepped out. It was him, then you, then the two of you separately. 

The party went on like that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind. Everyone at Prema never made you feel out of place, and it was a welcome break from all the noise about ‘how it feels to be this’ and ‘what does it mean to you to do that’. 

Of course, there was alcohol, but you couldn’t bring yourself to indulge and possibly become embarrassing around anyone, especially Ollie for that matter. 

You’d drift in and out of circles, a cola in one hand and your phone in another. This was your safe space, despite how fleeting the concept of home was for motorsport drivers. Prema was steady, stable, and ready to be there for you in good times and bad times, and you hoped Ferrari would continue to be the same. It was still strange that Ollie was part of both of those things, if not an integral part of those things in your life.

As the conversations began to die down and your social battery began to falter, you found yourself sitting on a lumpy sofa in the corner of the living room, people-watching from a distance. You were content where you were, an easy smile playing on your lips as you watched 30-something Italian men gesticulate in the foreground.

That was until a familiar looming figure appeared in your periphery before taking the spot next to you uninvited.

“That’s where you went.” Ollie said simply, his breath smelling like a mix of white wine and whiskey. His cheeks were more flushed than you’d ever seen them, and you felt the warmth of his body radiate on you. 

“What d’you need?” You asked, trying not to think about your ride home later or how far down his flush went (it was disappearing down his neck and under his button down.)

“Nothing.” He paused and seemed to contemplate for a second. “A hug would be nice.” 

Forget a bear, right now he looked more like a petulant little puppy than anything.

You were confused, but considering how drunk he seemed to be, his attitude didn’t come out of thin air. He’d probably forget about all this in the morning anyway. 

“Okay, um, from me?” You trailed off as you looked at him, his arms already wide open. You should’ve been worrying about how the engineers and staff might react to this, or how embarrassing all of this actually was in the greater scheme of things. It was your fault, though, that you obliged. 

Ollie laid his arms around your shoulders and nuzzled his head into your neck, sighing. He was taller than you, so the angle was a tad awkward. Ollie didn’t seem to mind at all though. 

Little did you know that he would take it as a chance to not let go. All things considered, you accepted your fate pretty quickly.

After a few minutes, Rene (of course he’d notice first) approached the two of you, a goofy, knowing grin on his face. 

“I told you! Him driving you would get you two to like each other.” Rene said with a laugh.

“No, Rene, we’re not—“ You tried to answer back but the man shook his head.

“Nonsense. I’d know.” He winked in an overly exaggerated way to punctuate his statement. “Anyway, is your chauffer alright?”

You glanced at Ollie, who seemed to be taking a nap with his hair pressed into the nook of your neck.

“Not great.” You deduced.

“You should be the one to drive tonight, he is out of it for sure. Just don’t get caught.” Rene decided for you.

It shouldn’t have ended there, but it did. Little did you know, whatever this was didn’t really have an end in sight. 

You sat there for a moment, holding the weight of Ollie’s head against your shoulder, feeling strangely stuck in limbo. The night had shifted unexpectedly into something intimate, confusing, and decidedly uncharacteristic for the both of you.

“Alright, up you go,” you muttered under your breath, nudging Ollie’s shoulder. He groaned in protest but eventually sat up, his head lolling back against the couch.

“You good?” you asked, leaning forward slightly to catch his gaze. His eyes were glassy, his lips tugging into a lopsided grin.

“Never better,” he mumbled, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“I’m driving,” you announced, standing up and straightening your jacket.

Ollie blinked up at you, processing your words with the speed of molasses. “You don’t have a license.”

“Neither should you right now,” you shot back, holding your hand out to him. “Keys, Ollie. Or we’re both walking.”

He grumbled something under his breath before fishing the keys out of his pocket and handing them to you. His fingers brushed yours for just a second too long, and you felt a strange jolt of electricity shoot up your arm.

“Come on,” you said, avoiding his gaze and pulling him to his feet.

The walk to the car was uneventful, aside from Ollie’s occasional stumbling. You kept a firm grip on his arm, steadying him when he leaned too far to one side.

“You’re bossy when you’re sober,” he slurred, leaning his head against your shoulder as you fumbled with the keys.

“And you’re unbearable when you’re drunk,” you retorted, shoving him gently into the passenger seat.

The drive back to your host family’s house in Maranello was quiet, save for the occasional murmur from Ollie as he slouched against the window. The streets were empty at this hour, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence.

“You didn’t have to come get me,” Ollie said suddenly, breaking the quiet. His voice was softer now, tinged with something that sounded like regret.

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, keeping your eyes on the road. “I wasn’t about to leave you there.”

He turned his head to look at you, his gaze heavy. “You’re too good for that.”

You scoffed, trying to brush off the unexpected compliment. “Don’t get sentimental on me now, Ollie.”

The rest of the drive passed in a haze of quiet moments and shared glances. When you finally pulled into the driveway of your host family’s house, you turned to look at him.

“Come on,” you said, nudging his arm. “You’re not staying alone tonight.”

Ollie blinked at you, his brow furrowing slightly. “Here?”

“Unless you want me to take you back to your place and risk having Dino or Rafa film you passed out on the couch,” you said, arching a brow.

He considered this for a moment, then nodded. “Fair point.”

Getting him inside was another adventure. You shushed him more times than you could count as he stumbled over the threshold, laughing quietly at his own clumsiness.

“Shh,” you hissed, dragging him toward the guest room you’d been staying in. “My host parents are asleep.”

Ollie grinned at you, his steps faltering as you guided him to the bed. “You’re like a secret agent,” he whispered dramatically.

“Yeah, well, secret agents don’t babysit drunk soon-to-be Formula 1 drivers,” you muttered, pushing him gently onto the mattress.

He flopped down with a satisfied sigh, kicking off his shoes and wriggling under the covers. You stood there for a moment, watching him settle in, his face soft in the dim light.

“You good?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

He nodded, his eyes already fluttering shut. “Thanks,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

“For what?”

“For… not leaving me.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you simply tugged the blanket up to his shoulders and turned off the light.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Whatever this was, it wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

When morning arrived, took a moment to register the unfamiliar weight against your side, the soft sound of breathing near your ear.

Ollie.

He was still asleep, his face turned toward you, his curls a wild mess against the pillow. One of his arms had ended up slung loosely across your waist, his hand resting near your hip. You froze, your mind racing as you pieced together the hazy events of the night before, the same clothes still on as a reminder that all of this was real.

He must’ve shifted in his sleep, you told yourself. It wasn’t like either of you had planned this. And yet, the steady warmth of him next to you sent a pang of something—comfort? Panic?—coursing through you.

You shifted slightly, trying to wiggle free without waking him.

“Don’t,” he mumbled, his voice groggy and muffled. His arm tightened just a fraction, holding you in place.

“Ollie,” you whispered, trying to keep your tone steady.

“Five more minutes,” he muttered, his eyes still closed, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips.

“Seriously, you’re—”

He cracked one eye open, his gaze meeting yours, and the sight of him that close—soft, unguarded—made your words falter.

“You stayed with me,” he said, his voice rasping with sleep.

“Yeah, well,” you mumbled, looking anywhere but at him. “You were in no shape to be left alone.”

“Good excuse,” he teased, though his tone was gentle, his hand brushing against your side as he shifted to prop himself up on one elbow.

You shot him a look, heat rising to your cheeks. “You’re lucky I didn’t just leave you on the couch.”

“Lucky, huh?” he said, his grin widening.

There was something about the way he was looking at you—like he was trying to memorize every detail of this moment—that made your chest tighten.

“Yeah, what are you gonna do about it?” You tried to taunt, without any bite coming out of it like you meant for it to. Instead you felt your faces inching ever closer, so close that you swore you heard his pulse racing in time with yours. 

That was finally, finally when his lips crashed into yours. Your body felt like it was about to give out, but it was even more overwhelming that you knew Ollie was right there to catch you. You were lightheaded from how much you wanted this. 

“Okay?” Ollie pulled away to ask as he moved to pin you down on your bed. You honestly couldn’t think straight anymore.

“Yeah, God, just—come on.” You replied breathlessly, and you felt Ollie smile against your lips. It was imperfect in most ways, morning breath and all, but it was everything you never knew you wanted. Maybe it was everything you weren’t allowing yourself to have.

Ollie continued to move on top of you, moving to kiss your forehead and cheeks before proceeding to bite down on your neck. That left you gasping for air, melting like putty in his hands. 

Next thing you know, you’re pawing at his button-down, all rucked up and wrinkled from your activities the night before. He made quick work of it, and soon the baby blue was discarded on the floor, the pile soon being joined by the dress you had on, and Ollie’s trousers.

“Shame, I liked that.” Ollie said as your dress hit the ground. “I like this more though.” His toothy grin took on a whole meaning of its own now, one that you’d probably think about nights from now, with your hands down your underwear. 

“Shut up.” You answered back, your body deciding to blush in spite of yourself and the situation you were already in. 

You continued kissing, harder and more desperate than before, and Ollie was grinding into you through the thin layers that still remained between the two of you. The whimpers that left his mouth made you feel a sense of power over him, one you never thought you’d have. It wasn’t drunkening though, it was more of a soft glow that you felt exuding from your body.

“I don’t have a condom,” Ollie was the breathless one now. “We don’t have to—“

“I’m on the pill.” You said with finality and a hint of desperation. You weren’t sure if you wanted Ollie to know the latter or not, but you definitely wanted what was to come.

“Fuck, okay.” Ollie looked a little blindsided by that, eyes blown wide and filled with what you could only explain as unabashed want. 

You unclasped your bra (you wished you could pause and frame the look on Ollie’s face when you did) and shimmed out of your underwear. When Ollie slipped out of his boxers, you hoped your face didn’t give away any particular thought. Because honestly, he was well-endowed.

“Like something you see?” He had the nerve to be smug as his cock was out, red and hot and waiting.

“Could say the same for you.” You retorted, pulling him down by his neck so you’d be face to face as it happened.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, and he seemed to get the signal because soon, you felt his tip breach your entrance. You bit your lip to prevent any noises, seeing as your host family was likely still home somewhere. 

Ollie continued to slide in slowly, biting at your shoulder probably with the same sentiments as you. When you felt his hips flush against yours, you relished in how good it felt to be completely full.

A soft “Move,” exited your mouth, and soon Ollie was pulling back and thrusting into you with force. You were so grateful your beframe wasn’t betraying you with sounds of what was going on.

It was surprisingly tender, but still so satisfying. Ollie was thrusting into you at a steady but deep pace, leaving you gasping and leaving crescent-shaped indents down his back as you tried to hold on. 

Something shifted though when Ollie hitched up your left leg and started thrusting into you harder and faster. You felt yourself barelling straight to release as you could feel everything without any barriers between you and him. 

“Ollie, please.” You cried out, him now hitting your g-spot with every thrust. He was still fucking you in earnest, but clearly getting sloppy. 

“Let go for me baby, that’s it.” Ollie encouraged, punctuating with particuarly hard thrusts, leaving you clenching uncontrollably. Eventually, you felt your orgasm roll through you, and you pulled Ollie back into a kiss just to muffle the sounds you were making.

You felt Ollie still hammering into you, and you could nearly cry from the excess of pleasure and overstimulation you felt. He laid into you with one, two more deep thrusts and he was spilling inside you with a grunt he couldn’t silence.

Ollie laid on you, his head nuzzled into your neck, softening cock still inside you. 

“You keep surprising me.” Ollie broke your solemn silence, brushing his fingers over your face. 

“I hope you like surprises.” You quipped back, unable to hold back your smile. You knew that this moment had to end sooner or later, and this would turn a bit disgusting with Ollie’s cum drying between your legs. However both of you were here now, still. Here. Still.

“I do, actually;” Ollie replied simply. “I do.”

[aciddrattboyy]

hesitation !

friends to lovers ! friends to lovers! friends to lovers ! or bachira has been your friend since childhood, and while he cant deny his romantic feelings for you now that you were older; you certainly try to deny yours

bachira x f! reader ☆ fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst(maybe) ☆ wc: 2.9k cw: sex jokes lol what else do college boys do a/n: ah i had sooo much fun with this, i think when i write i try to do it in a more traditional way so it was lowkey freeing and fun to get out of my comfort zone and get a bit silly also the frequent kunigami appearances are from my love for him as well he's my 2nd fav bllk character also also theres a very small very unimportant reference to a song somwhere in here and im interested to see if anyone will know it

pt: 01 || pt. 02 || ...

☆

the door to your apartment swung open with a bang, there stood meguru in the entrance, standing proudly with a plastic bag.

“oh honey i’m home!” his sing-song voice got a middle finger from you and a groan from isagi, nagi, and kunigami. the four of you were sat on the floor, table moved out of the way to make space for the project the five of you were working on. 

“meguru what did i tell you about playing house in my apartment,” you said sarcastically. you weren’t upset over your friends long running joke. you were annoyed that it took him near an hour to grab supplies from a dollar store. 

“you said we could only play when we were alone in your bed,” megumi gave you an animated frown, shaking his head as he closed the door behind him. your eyes bulged at his comment as kunigami choked on his water. meguru yelped as you threw a pillow at him in retaliation, ignoring your threats as he tossed the bag on the ground next to you before heading to the fridge. 

“guys we’re not fucking,” you said to the three other men sitting across from you. isagi was too busy helping kunigami recover to really be listening and nagi preoccupied with whatever game he was playing on his phone. 

“of course you’re not bachira is the biggest virgin i know,” nagi stated as fact, eyes never leaving his screen.

“hey!” megurus interjection from the kitchen made you laugh, only to be cut short when meguru ran to grab the pillow you previously threw at you to absolutely chuck it towards the back of your head. you shot him a mock glare before turning back to the project at hand.

“okay no more talk about megurus virginity- we need to get this done before i pass out from exhaustion,” meguru hummed in amusement, grabbing your last can of soda before presuming his spot between you and kunigami. 

“well we could’ve started about three hours ago if you werent asleep,” kunigami said, shooting you an annoyed glance before rummaging through the bag meguru had tossed. 

“i was tired,” you defended yourself, squinting your eyes at the orange haired man.

“yea she was tired,” meguru came to your defense, but it sounded more like he was mocking you. ignoring megurus presence all together, you open up your laptop, looking for the criteria for this obscure project.  

“what even is the project anyway,” nagi spoke from behind his phone, earning alarmed stares from everyone else. it took him a minute to even notice eyes were on him, the newfound silence being what gave it away. “im just kidding,” he said in hopes of calming all of you down, even setting his phone aside to pretend he was analyzing the supplies. 

“we’re doomed,” isagi said shortly, running a hand through his hair. 

“why are there trojan condoms in the bag,” kunigami damn near shouted. you all turned to meguru who just sat there with a dumb smile on his face. 

“i told you guys y/n said we could only play house alone in her-” you pushed your hand into his face, knocking him over. “i was joking, the condoms are for the project.” he stated simply, seemingly unbothered by the scrutinizing looks you all gave him. “what its supposed to be about human nature right? whats more human than sex?” he shrugged his shoulders, looking at you guys as if you were the weird ones for not understanding. 

“we’re not using that,” isagi said quickly, shutting the idea down entirely.

“no no he’s on to something,” nagi mused, enjoying the slightly chaotic energy in the room. meguru blew a kiss at nagi, happy someone was backing him up. “i change my mind,” nagi immediately says, staring a meguru with a blank face before picking up his phone and continuing his game. 

“how about we just work on it tomorrow,” you offered lightly, furrowing your brows in concern when isagi gasped as if you just suggested they sacrifice a new born baby and use that as the project. 

“im not getting a zero on a fucking posterboard project by working on it last minute,” isagi murmured, snatching your laptop to look at the assignment himself. 

“well we’re obviously not getting anything done now. maybe tomorrow we’ll all be a bit more… put together,” to be honest, you just didnt feel like working on it right now. your sleep schedule had gotten worse than usual and you had, no offense to them, more important things to work on. this small community project was on the bottom of your to-do list at the moment. isagi and kunigami glanced at each other wearily, seeming to be the only two people who actually cared about getting it done. “or me, nagi, and meguru each pay you 30 bucks for you guys to do it,” you took advantage of nagi’s selective listening to make that offer and was extremely relieved when meguru didnt object. “and i give you my amazon gift card and let you use my prime account to buy actual supplies,”

“okay deal,” isagi nodded, also aware of nagi not really agreeing. but since he was silent, that was complacency by default in his eyes. giving you your laptop back, isagi got up, followed by kunigami as they grabbed their stuff and the flimsy posterboard that sat empty for the last two hours. 

once isagi and kunigami said their goodbyes, you got up from your spot on the floor, making your way to the kitchen with the intent of making lunch. 

“honey could you be a dear and make me a sandwich,” meguru asked in a mocking tone when we saw you grab a loaf of bread.

“go fuck yourself,” you responded, searching through the fridge for anything that looked appetizing. megurus exaggerated noise of despair is what brought nagi out of his game, looking at meguru with pure judgement. 

“you’re so loud,” he deadpanned, before noticing that two of his friends were no longer there. 

“they left,” meguru said, completely ignoring nagis critique. nagi took that as a cue to leave considering isagi was his ride. with a quick goodbye to you and megumi, nagi was rushing out the door, trying to call isagi and praying they hadnt left him.

now it was just you and meguru, with him sitting on the floor of your living room as he watched you try to concoct a meal. you sighed from behind the kitchen island, making a mental note to remind your roomates that you guys desperately needed to go grocery shopping. 

despite the banter, you had no qualms with meguru staying behind. he was your closest friend, having known him since elementary school. it was a happy accident that after being separated for years, you somehow ended up at the same college. 

“stop telling people we fucked,” you said absently as you search your cabinets when you heard meguru make his way over to the kitchen. 

“whats wrong with that,” 

you shot him a confused look before turning back to rummage through your mostly empty cupboards. 

“we havent?” your voice echoed slightly as you peered in, standing on your toes in hope a four course meal would materialize on the shelf.

“well we could change that,”

you pivoted on your heels being met with a similarly shocked face from the guy who just said those exact words. you shook your head, chalking it up to another one of his jokes.

“stop joking like that,” you pressed your hands onto the counter, desperately trying to come up with something to eat. you were starving. 

“it wasnt a joke,” megurus face made it seem like he was more shocked by his response than you were. quickly turning away and trying to act busy looking for his phone, meguru left you wondering if he was telling the truth. your face grew warm as you really thought about your words. he was your childhood friend, you missed a few years of his life but it was apparent now that he’s grown up well. 

fortunately, or well unfortunately for you, your stomach grumbled loud enough to get you out of your thoughts. you took it as a sign from your body to not entertain the idea of fucking your best friend any longer.

“if youre here for food im sorry to disappoint,” you were trying to cut off the last conversation, turning it to something easier to talk about. 

“no i’m here for you,” he looked at you as if that much was obvious, and it was a bit disorienting. you were used to his crude humor and blunt speech but this was different. you guys were pretty comfortable in your friendship up until this point, at least thats what you thought.

“well im about to go get something to eat,” you averted his gaze, grabbing a hoodie and slipping on your shoes. meguru followed suit, a bright smile on his face as you rummaged through your pockets for your keys. 

“yay dinner with the missus,” you rolled your eyes, trying to hold back a laugh as you opened the door, feeling him follow behind you.

⭑.ᐟ

2:12am kunigami !!: absolutely slumped 2:12am kunigami !!: [sent 1 attachment] 2:13am pinky boy: y/n's gonna kill you when she sees that 2:15am kunigami !!: ill survive trust 2:16am ultimate gamer: theyre def kissing on the side

⭑.ᐟ

you were knocked out on kunigamis couch, a small gathering amongst friends turned sleepover once someone(reo) brought alcohol. you were curled into the corner of the couch, a blanket drapped over you. now that alone wasnt anything out of the ordinary, not something kunigami would risk getting his eyes gouched out for a singular photo. it was the fact that your head has resting on megurus lap. his head rested on your hip at what looked like an uncomfortable angle as he slept. 

there were jokes and side comments about you two secretly dating and you were always the one to deny them, meguru stepping aside and pleading the fifth every time. but the current state you were in was just another piece of evidence to confirm your friends suspicions. 

the night was basically over at the point, most of the other people either leaving or grabbing blankets themselves. 

what woke you up hours later was the smell of breakfast cooking. having been living off of instant ramen and takeout for the past couple weeks, the smell of a home cooked meal practically made your soul fly over to the smell like a cartoon. 

your eyebrows twitched as your hangover made itself known. with a groan you shifted on the couch, for the most part remembering where you were until you realized whatever ‘pillow’ you were laying on felt weird. your eyes shot open and you were met with a calm meguru scrolling on his phone. realizing you were laying on his lap, you shot up, swirling your head as you surveyed your surroundings. 

kunigami was in the kitchen, flipping something over the stove while wearing the stupid ‘kiss the chef’ apron meguru had gotten him as a gag secret santa gift. you tossed the blanket off of you, not awake enough to form words let alone coherent thoughts. 

“hey im cold,” meguru said with no real annoyance as he reached over and grabbed the blanket, putting on a show as he tossed it over his legs. 

“my head hurts,” you mumbled, bringing a hand up to shield your eyes from the bright light. meguru wordlessly reached for the bottle of advil on the coffee table, grabbing his water bottle you gifted him and handing you both. you mumbled a thanks, before tossing the pills into your mouth and absolutely chugging the water. your hand patted the couch cushions around you, looking for your phone.

“its charging in the kitchen,” meguru said without looking up from his own screen, earning a snicker from kunigami who watched the whole situation unfold. you wanted to shoot daggers at him via your eyes, but alas the searing pain right behind them rendered your temper useless. plus he was cooking breakfast and whether or not he was cooking just for himself, you planned to try to snag some. 

getting up from the couch you felt meguru lift a hand to your hip, helping you steady yourself. its something you wouldnt normally bat an eye at, even thanking him for the help. but now that kunigami was staring at you it felt different. 

averting kunigamis ever intensive gaze, you grabbed your phone from the kitchen counter. scrolling through your notifications. not much stood out and you were going to put your phone back down and let charge a little longer until meguru spoke up, much to kunigamis dismay. 

he knew youd see the picture eventually but would have preferred if you werent where his knives were when you did. 

“kunigami sent something funny in the group chat,”

“youre getting no pancakes,” kunigami shouted at megurus betrayal, pointing the whisk in his hand towards the giggly boy on his couch. you looked at kunigami and then meguru, and then kunigami again with raised suspicion. keeping your eyes on the orange-haired man, you unlocked your phone, scrolling through unimportant messages until you found what meguru was definitely were talking about. 

there you were, napping with meguru and looking completely at peace. you felt your cheeks warm as you read the following messages, squinting at kunigami. luckily for him, you were tired and in too much pain to do anything drastic.

“i’ll give you meguru’s pancakes if you let me live,”

⭑.ᐟ

3:34pm loser </3: can i come over 3:40pm you: im out rn 3:41pm loser </3: out doing what...... 3:43pm you: eating lunch with my mom 3:43pm loser </3: tell mom i said hi 3:47pm you: she said to stop bothering us while we're eating 3:48pm loser </3: UR LYING 3:48pm loser </3: ill text her and find out myself . 3:48pm loser </3: gmfu 3:49pm you: since when do you have my moms number 3:51pm you: STOP TEXTING MY MOM

⭑.ᐟ

“i swear to god if you drop anymore popcorn i will end your life,” 

meguru paused as he was lifting a handful of popcorn out of the bowl, eyes flicking from yours to the ball of popcorn in his hand that was threatening to spill out between his fingers. he blinked twice before quickly shoving the kernels in his mouth, chewing obnoxious and smiling around his stuffed cheeks. 

you stared at him with a glare that carried no anger before turning your attention back to the screen. you had forgotten what you were even watching, bachira having insisted on playing some obscure movie he watched a youtube essay about. 

“can you make some more,” megurus voice was muffled from the sheer amount of popcorn in his mouth, but you understood when you pushed the bowl your way. you shook your head, shoving the bowl back towards him.

“you ate most of it, you can go make more,” you listened to him loudly swallow the last of the popcorn in his mouth before pouting at you. 

“i dont wanna miss the movie.”

“pause it,” 

“no that messes with the vibe,” 

you rolled your eyes, getting up from your couch and taking the bowl from him. walking into the kitchen you grabbed a bag of popcorn and put it in the microwave, leaning over your kitchen island as you waited for it to finish. 

you looked at meguru, he seemed interested in the movie, watching intently. he was pretty, you couldnt deny that. and the way the light from the tv played on his face only added to it. his hair had grown since the last time you saw him before college, the yellow tips just passing his shoulders. a wave of emotions ran through you as he laughed at whatever was happening on screen. he was so sweet, you liked being around him no matter how chaotic it was. you were comfortable around him and you wouldnt trade the relationship you had with him for anything. 

the beep of your microwave and the slightly burnt smell of popcorn brought you back to the present. pouring the popcorn in the bowl, you made your way back to the couch, handing meguru the bowl and plopping back down onto the couch. 

“its burnt,” meguru pointed out despite getting ready to shove another handful in his mouth. you shrugged your shoulders, grabbing a pillow and laying against the arm of the couch, curling into a ball.

“you shouldve made it then,” meguru looked at you, your eyes already back on the screen. there was a sort of airy smile on face, enjoying your time together. he wished youd lay on him instead of that godforsaken pillow, but he would take what he could get. unlike you, he had words for the feelings he had towards you. he was in love with you. and while you were adamant on denying any dating allegations he didnt let it bother him to much. when it came down to it, meguru could be satisfied with just being a friend. he wasnt selfish he’d like to think. he was grateful you liked him at all, it was no problem for him if those feelings were platonic or romantic. but a boy can dream. 

i hope you enjoyed !! reblogs/comments are very appreciated <3

[cyberkitty1]

𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓂𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇!

Kenji Sato x Reader

DISCONTINUED

Summery: All you could hear was sounds of destruction, screaming and fires all around you. You run trying to catch your breath as someone else trying to escape just as much as you pushes you making fall. Screaming in pain you clutch your ankle seeing as it is out of place. Your sight pans upward as you see a kaiju at least a million times your size running at you. Trying as much as you can to get up and run, but ultimately failing. Accepting your fait and covering yourself the best you can until the stomping comes to a stop….

banners by: @adornedwithlight ( thank you!!! )

Taglist: 15/50 - Just comment to be added!!

Part 1

[firerose18991]

Just Bimby Things

Prt 1 | Prt 2 | Prt3<you're here

Minors DNI

Pairing : Toxic(pathetic) Megumi x Bimbo!reader

Info: HVAC repairman megumi(itadori and nobara), interior decorator reader, used their surnames and first name interchangeably,  18+ characters. Written with black readers in mind

Wrd cnt: 1.5k

The trip had been a success in more than one way and you all returned to your jobs well rested. However, the open ended nature of your last encounter left Fushiguro wondering. Should he have taken you out first, Should he ask you out now. He had gotten your number, he just wasn't sure what to do with it.

He thought about this as he drove to his next appointment. Updating an old house that'd just been inherited by the former owner's children. It was farther out from the city than normal so he expected this to be a project he'd be working on for the next few days.

When he arrived he pulled his tool bag out from his truck and went in to greet the family. From what he could tell they were a middle aged successful couple. They were relentlessly happy when greeting him and showing him around the house while he did his assessment. After a short while there was a knock at the door.

"Oh you don't mind right, we made an appointment with our decorator. She's going to work around you to fix the place up as fast as possible for us." The wife headed toward the door to greet the decorator and bring her in.

"There's our star." The husband's voice boomed as he extended a welcoming arm to you.

As you stepped in you made eye contact with Megumi sending him a playful wink before taking the husband's hand.

"So what have we done so far?" You jumped excitedly. Your work outfit(if you could call it that) struggled to contain your movements.

Megumi made note of the husband still hanging onto your hand and staring down at you.

"We're going to have to gut the central wall and the basement to set up the systems. We should be able to get them back up in two weeks." Megumi's voice came out rasped. He was distracted by your closeness to the family. "I'll bring a team next time. What start day works best for you."

He pulled out his tablet to allow the couple to choose their time. Only the wife stepped up while you and the husband chatted quietly in the corner.

You were flipping your braids at everything he said, laughing at seemingly nothing. A feeling bubbled up in him when you took the husband's arm and went off to a different room.

"Well I'd like to start as soon as possible so this is a good time." The wife snapped him out of the daze.

She'd picked a date two days from now. "I'll get you the keys so you can let yourself in. We're still in the city while everything is getting settled.

“Honey!". She called her husband back to the room to fetch the keys.

"I can come back when the wall has been put up and start painting the house." You gushed while handing the key the husband had brought out to the wife who handed it to Megumi.

A week later Megumi still couldn't get the thought of you hanging off that guy's arm out of his head as he patched up the house. He was almost tempted to charge them more money and botched the job but it would reflect badly on his company so he held back. You stopped by the house just as he and his team were finishing up for the day.

"Hi Meggy." You hopped through the door in your usual tight get up.

You threw your arms around his neck.

"You haven't texted me." You pecked him on the lips.

He stood there frozen for a moment before stepping back slightly

"I'm working, maybe we can talk later." He attempted to grab his belongings but you beat him to it.

"I just wanna talk really fast." You held his work bag behind you. It almost tipped you over with how heavy it was.

“I can't make time right now" he reached for the bag but you stepped back again.

"Why noott~" You whined

"Cause you’re an ignorant fucking slut, now shut up and let me work” his words really struck you. While you froze he was able to grab his bag and leave you there.

The job was done after 2 more days and Megumi hadn't seen you at all in that time. He did reach out to let you know his work was done and he sent a half baked apology about his attitude after work. But he was left on read. Upon returning to his agency he was told that another event would be happening this weekend to celebrate the workers accomplishments. Though the reminder would be sent out again as hardly anyone was at the building when he arrived.

He went about the week leading up to it normally though he did put a considerable amount of energy into dodging Yuji as he knew he’d be reamed for what happened between the two of you. He was hoping the event would allow him the chance to pull you aside and straighten things out, and hopefully avoid his punishment.

As he got home from work on the day of the party he made sure to pick an outfit that wouldn’t draw too much attention to him. A plain suit and tie to a black and white event should allow him to fade into the background with the other workers. He got himself put together and arrived at the party. He was purposefully late as getting there early would also be cause for undue attention. He looked around for familiar faces and instantly spotted your body con baby pink dress surrounded by a chatty group.

“So much for black and white event.” He laughed to himself as he stepped further into the room to find a spot to wait out your conversation. He’d take all night if he needed to.

Just when he’d located a suitable corner he felt his shoulders buckle under the weight of someone's hand.

“Well if it isn’t Megumi.” Yuji talked through his forced grin and proceeded to drag him to the exact opposite area of where he wanted to go to sit with Nobara.

Yuji placed Megumi square between the two of them and there was a sinister pause. He could feel the anger flowing off the two getting ready to strangle him at any moment.

“Haven’t seen you this week.” Nobara hissed.

“Almost like you were avoiding us.” Yuji growled

Megumi sighed. “I'm sorry I insulted (Y/N). I’m here to apologize.” He really had no time to play their game.

“Why are you telling us that and not her?” Nobara raised her voice.

“I would be if you hadn’t dragged me over here!” Megumi shouted back earning a lot of attention from the partygoers including you.

Your eyes met for a brief moment before you very visibly turned away to pout. He could almost see a little steam cloud coming off your head. He’d be more amused if they weren’t directed at him.

After being released from the terror twins he made his way over to you, cutting into a conversation you had started to purposefully ignore him.

“(Y/N).” Megumi said a bit over you.

This prompted the person you were practically speaking gibberish to, to take the hint and leave

“(Y/N)!” he said a bit more urgently now that the person you’d been talking to had left and you were simply staring at a punch bowl. “I’m sorry for what I said to you. I was jealous.”

This urged you to peek back at him ever so slightly.

“I wasn’t happy because you were giving the client's husband so much attention.”

“I gave you more.” You turned back to the punch in a huff.”

“I know. I was being greedy.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of plane tickets,

“I was hoping, if you’d forgive me, we could go on a trip. So I can make it up to you.”

He held out the tickets with the destination set to paris. He figured you could get all the shopping you wanted done there.

"What do you say?”

“I’ll say, you must think I have pretty low standards for such a half baked apology.” You turned back to the punch bowl to keep yourself from being tempted by megumi’s gesture.

“(Y/N) if you give me a second chance, I promise I’ll do right by you and if I don’t please have my friends beat me up without hesitation.”

You smirked a bit at this but still didn’t let up. “One trip won’t make it up to me. How many days has it been…I think 9 days equals at least 2 trips abroad and 10 local vacations.” You turned around to peck him on the lips.

“Let’s see how much you want me.”

He laughed at the nonsensical math you'd come up with. He slipped his hand around your waist.

“Is that all?”

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally getting help (prt 9)

Masterpost

“So where’s the brother?” Jason asked as he followed Bruce down the hall. 

“He’s in Tim’s lab. It seems like they’ll be able to share it, which is good even with as big as this place is I don’t think we have room for two mad science labs,” Bruce said with dry humour, making Jason laugh in spite of himself.

“Tim must be thrilled to have a buddy huh?” He asked, still chuckling. No one in this family was stupid by any means, he often felt like the dumb one and objectively he knew he was still a fucking genius. But even with all of them being That smart no one could keep up with Tim’s innovative and scientific mind. 

“I think he might even learn a few things, which is a frightening concept. Danny asked for microwaves and toasters this morning so he could cannibalize them into anti-possession tech. The way that boy combines science and magic is going to give both me and Constantine ulcers.” 

Jason snorted, both at the joke and maybe a bit out of pleasure that someone was going to be giving Bruce a hard time. “Well if you need a babysitter don’t call me. I don’t want to deal with any of that,” he chuckled.

“Oh absolutely not, you would only feed into the chaos,” Bruce said quickly making Jason cackle, because he was right.

“Alright,” Bruce murmured to himself when they reached the closed door to the lab, it was almost lost in the banging inside but Jason heard it. Heard Bruce bracing himself for whatever was going to happen when Jason and Danny met.

He opened the door and across the room Jason saw who must be Danny. He was prime adoption bait with his black hair and blue eyes, but he was… absolutely beautiful, slight and elven, gently curved and wired with muscle. Jason froze, and it seemed so did Danny, staring at each other from across the room. Butterflies fluttered in Jason’s stomach, building till they didn’t feel like butterflies but something buzzing, trying to get out. He could hear the growl coming from his chest, not his throat.

Danny’s eyes swirled with green and he vaulted over the work table, abandoning the half finished tech he was working on to lunge at Jason. He collided with Jason with a snarl of his own, Jason growled and flipped Danny over his shoulder, the hall was a closed space so Danny twisted, running into the wall feet first and landing in a crouch. Jason twisted so he didn’t have his back to a wall anymore as Danny lunged at him again and Jason dodged, pushing off the wall to give himself momentum as he threw himself after Danny. 

Danny grabbed Jason’s arm and used his momentum to throw him over his hip, following him down to the ground, barely missing as Jason rolled away. He didn’t even think to draw a weapon, that wasn’t what this fight was about, they weren’t actually trying to hurt each other. Even as Jason punched down so hard he cracked the floor he somehow knew Danny would dodge, and wouldn’t get hurt. And Danny did, he got out of the way and lashed out in return, kicking Jason in the chest and sending him flying a few feet back giving Danny time to scramble back to his feet and chase after him.

This give and take carried them down the hall and to the landing by the stairs. Somewhere in the background Jason knew that someone was shouting at them to stop, and to be careful, but he wasn’t listening. He was too focussed on the growl emanating from Danny, and from himself which were starting to smooth out again, to feel less like desperate insects trying to escape and more like a cat’s purr, or some sort of song. They were reaching equilibrium, some sort of harmony. 

He didn’t realize how close they were to the stairs until Danny knocked him back again and this time when he stepped back he didn’t land on solid ground. The two of them tumbled down the stairs, rapidly switching who was on top as they fell. Jason could feel himself collecting bruises but he didn’t fucking care.

They came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs with Jason on top, his forearm pressed against Danny’s chest just below his throat. They were both breathing hard, staring at each other with wide blue-green eyes. The growling died down, lowering down into purrs harmonizing with each other as they caught their breath. Jason’s was lower and Danny’s a little higher, it was a hypnotic sound that made Jason feel… peaceful.

Danny moved first, reaching up slowly to touch Jason’s face, but before he could Jason realized what they had done and the position he was in. He had fought with Danny, and he was now pinning an abused teenager to the floor straddling his waist. This looked bad and now that he realized what was happening it Felt worse! He practically shot up off of Danny and was about to bolt before Danny grabbed his hand.

“Wait! Don’t go yet! Let me just, let me get you a specter-deflector so no one can possess you first okay?” Danny asked, sounding oddly desperate and even though Jason wanted to run he nodded.

Danny looked relieved and let go of Jason before suddenly flying up and through the floor above them. Jason blinked at the ceiling above him before looking around him. 

Oh dear, Bruce, Tim, Damian, and Jazz were all watching from the landing above. Damian looked like he wanted to kill Jason himself, Bruce looked disappointed, Tim impassive and Jazz looked… Excited? Why did she look happy?

Danny flew back down through the floor before anyone could think of what to say. “Okay! Here’s the specter-deflector,” He said, clicking something that looked like a watch into place around Jason’s wrist. “That’ll protect you, this is a blaster,” he said, handing Jason an odd sci-fi looking gun. “It’ll reload automatically from ambient ectoplasm, it works best against dead and undead but it can hurt humans too. And.. um, this is my number,” He said, blushing furiously as he handed Jason a slip of paper. “Please text me?”

When had Jason’s mouth gotten so dry?! He had to lick his lips before he answered, painfully aware of how hot his cheeks were and that he must be blushing too. He didn’t blush much, not since his death and resurrection, but he was absolutely blushing now, and he was still purring too if more softly now. He didn’t even know that he could purr, not really. “Ya, Yes, I’ll text you,” he promised before he fled the house. He would have to have some of Alfred’s lasagna later, just then he desperately needed to calm down and clear his head.

-----

Jazz was practically vibrating with excitement and as soon as the door had closed behind Jason she couldn’t contain it anymore. She squealed as she vaulted over the railing of the landing and landed in the foyer and sprinting over to Danny. “Danny what the heck! You have a crush?! I haven’t seen you that passionate in ages!” She enthused scooping Danny up under his arms and twirling him around.

“Jaaazz,” Danny complained even as he went kitten limp in her arms letting her hold him at arms length nearly a foot off the floor.

“I didn’t even know you liked boys! Why didn’t you tell me you like boys!?” Jazz demanded, shaking him a little.

“I didn’t really, I mean I always preferred girls. The only guy I ever really had a crush on was Dash and-” He cut off when Jazz made a disgusted face. “Exactly! That was never going to happen and he was an asshole so I didn’t want to talk about it!”

“Okay ya I understand- Wait you were making fun of me for having a thing for bad boys when your type is asshole meathead jocks!? Ohhh you’re never going to hear the end of this baby brother!”

“Oh my god No!” Danny groaned, finally squirming out of Jazz’s hold and dropping back to the ground stepping back. 

He turned towards the Wayne’s who had made their way down the stairs while the siblings were talking. “Is Jason an asshole?” He demands of Tim, he’s probably the fairest judge in Danny’s estimation.

“Absolutely,” Tim said promptly before realizing what he said and backtracking a little. “But I’m his brother, I'm supposed to say that. Jason’s heart is in the right place, he's a good guy, just kinda violent and a complete jerk,” Tim said. 

“Perfect,” Danny said his expression a little dreamy. 

“Why on earth would you have a crush on Todd?! You could do so much better!” Damian squawked indignantly, breaking the tension and making everyone besides Bruce laugh, and even he smiled just a little. 

“I want to say you did well Bruce, I know it was hard not to break up the fight but so? It was good for them, I hope it won’t be too hard on you if they do end up dating,” Jazz said, patting Bruce’s arm. 

He shifted from one foot to the other a little awkwardly but then shook his head. “No it won’t be, I mean it won’t be the first time, Barbra was as good as my daughter and she dated Dick, and Steph and Tim dated. It’s always a little awkward but I’d rather that than a Super,” He said, shooting Tim a look, he cleared his throat and looked away.

“Well good, we’ll see how this works out but really,” she turned back towards Danny. “This could be good! You’ve always been attracted to violent people but I don’t think that your ghost instincts realized that when Val was shooting at you it wasn’t bonding for her the same way it was for you,” she told him, her tone borderline accusatory.

Danny looked down and shifted from side to side, giving a little shrug. “I know, but she was a good girlfriend, when she wasn’t being Red Huntress and I wasn’t being Phantom. When we were just Danny and Val, it was good.”

“Oh Danny,” She sighed and pulled him into a hug. “I know, but he has the same instincts as you, I’m rooting for you Danny.”

“Thanks Jazz,” Danny said softly, hugging her back.

“Welp, I’m heading back to the lab,” Tim said, obviously uncomfortable with the genuine emotions he made a break for it before he could get roped into any hugs.

Next

[gothamite-rambler]

"Weird Questions from a Weird City: Batfamily Edition

Duke Thomas: What’s your biggest fear?

Jason Todd: That I’ll never be good enough for anyone.

Tim Drake: Everyone hates me and talks about me behind my back.

Dick Grayson: Vampires.

Jason Todd: ...

Tim Drake: ...

Dick Grayson: I got turned into one once and nearly killed peoples. It's a bloodlust, you never know when you'll be fully quenched and every non-vampire is a succulent vessel... But I'm not a vampire anymore and that is in my past.

Dick eats his apple after that.

*silence*

Duke Thomas: Holy crap stick, Batman.

Tim: Can I change my option to Dick Grayson?

Jason: Same.

[daymarenightdream1]

❝𝗡𝗼 𝗖𝘂𝗿𝘀𝗲 𝗠𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗧𝘄𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲❞ - {ongoing series}

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤/𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: Satoru Gojo x female reader

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: In a world where promises bind souls together and breaking them has dire consequences, you make a promise to your best friend Satoru Gojo. A promise that will change your lives forever. As you both grow up, you find yourselves torn apart by the threads of fate. As they navigate the obstacles that life throws their way, will their their friendship stand the test of time… or will it be shattered beyond repair?

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: Angst, when i say angst i mean ANGST, explicit words/swearing, violence, mentions of physical/verbal abuse, explicit descriptions of physical/verbal abuse(not by gojo), the besties fight :( , smut

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: slow burn, eventual fluff, eventual smut, miscommunication, arranged marriage, marriage of convenience, set in the Heian era, friends to enemies to lovers, female reader

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: estimated 25k but this is (very) likely to change

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 (𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒)

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟘.𝟝 - prelude

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟙 - Budding flowers (it's cooking)

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟚 - Snapping strings (it's cooking)

𝕋𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥: Taglist is open, send me an ask or comment if you would like to be tagged!

[thewritergx]

Jackson: Joel Miller x F!Reader: Part 1

Summary: Sat 1 year after Ellie and Joel find a home in Jackson. Joel is plagued with thoughts of ruining the sweet girl his brother rescued. A series of Joel destroying all your innocence. 

Warnings: Mentions of guns. Knife use. Smut Containing: Age Gap (Joel is 57, undisclosed age for reader but I picture her around 28). Praise Kink, Kissing, Fingering, Gentle Dom!Joel, Innocent Reader, Virgin Reader. Its giving corruption kink, lowkey free use kink at times. So many pet names I can’t even list them out. 

Word Count: 5.5K

EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Please feel free to like and repost. Click here if you’d like more stories from me. Text divider from @plum98. Text Color Generator. If you'd like more Joel Miller stories, please go check out @pearlessance. 

If Joel Miller had been told a year ago that he would be finding solace comfort between the legs of a woman half his age, he would have laughed until all the air in his lungs was depleted, leaving him bright red in the face. The last thing Joel ever considered himself was a ‘dilf’ but behind the impenetrable walls of Jackson, you were clinging onto him like he was made of the finest metals. A handful of gold and pearls in your unwavering grip.

He never meant for it to turn out this way. He didn’t mean to have you accidentally clenched around his fingers in an anguished void of eroticism. Yet there he was, dismantling every particle of decency he had remaining in his traumatized psyche. 

Joel wasn’t sure why he was so intrigued by you. He couldn't point it to a singular trait or moment in time. Maybe you made him feel young again, like a teenage hot for teacher. Maybe it was the way your eyes wrinkled slightly when you smiled up at him. Maybe it was the way you leaned into his touches, no matter how faint.  All he knew was that the sound of your voice stimulated his body with a deadly erotic static every time he spoke to you. Forbidden and illicit as your lips brushed against his. 

Joel and Ellie had just begun settling in the new city when you showed up. It was a dull morning, the sun just starting to rise over the horizon as snow drizzled down the frozen air. Joel had been sitting on his newly furnished porch, polishing a rifle to perfection and sipping on a piping hot coffee. His tired eyes fluttered closed, warm steam from his mug hitting his face. He was never a fan of the cold, having grown up under the hot Texas sun,  but he was starting to find peace in the frigid atmosphere. His usual racing mind was void, an uncommon and strange occurrence since the outbreak began. He allowed himself half a second of relaxation, his broad shoulders easing into a rickety vintage chair. 

Even in this secure environment, he knew not to let himself get too comfortable. Startled by the image of his brother’s wobbling tracks against the snowy ground, his eyes widened. Tommy’s slender strides buckled. It looked like he was carrying something. Something Joel couldn't quite make out from the distance between them. He stood on alert, his coffee almost spilling as he slammed the porcelain mug on a feeble side table. Joel stomped through the arctic powder, a white-knuckled grip on his rifle. Tommy struggled to keep going, falling to his knees with a hard ‘thud’. Joel swore he felt his heart stop. The only audible sound was his blood vessels restricting, the air in his lungs hindered by his hasty steps. Tommy was never a weak man, but the time spent walking back to camp, the weight in his arms, and the heavy snowfall had exhausted him to the point of complete collapse. 

“Tommy!” The concern in Joel’s tone was palpable, his strong arms grabbing his brother. Joel snaked his hands under Tommy’s shoulders, supporting his weight and pulling him from the soiled ground. Finally, Joel could recognize the undisclosed package in Tommy’s grip. A girl. She looked freezing, her cheeks a bright red and slow breaths crackled. 

“Fuck, give her to me.” Joel’s heart pounded, rushing to take you in his arms. You were feather-like in his arms, weightless as he pressed you against his chest. The thin jacket you wore hardly provided any fight against the icy rain that trickled down but Joel had hoped his body heat would be enough to provide some type of warmth. He rushed you to the infirmary, his stride incalculable and unstoppable. He had practically thrown you inside, placing you under multiple layers of thick blankets. You looked almost peaceful, but your body was shivering and your skin a ghostly pale white. 

Time passed and Joel, along with Tommy, had spent days at your bedside. They had made sure you were taken care of, helping you drink water, and making sure you got enough to eat. Strangely, Tommy was thankful for the practice, knowing a new baby was waiting for him at home. Once you had recovered and could leave the infirmary, you really didn’t have any other place to go except Joel’s. Tommy had found you alone in the woods, but he had just started his own family. Plus, It didn’t really feel right leaving Joel after he had watched you at your worst. Alone and with no other choices, you moved into the spare bedroom right down the hall from him and Ellie. 

This particular day had been one straight from his most lustful nightmares. Like every day, he was in charge of weapon maintenance, foot patrol, and a newer annoyance. Training new recruits. Joel had not given much thought to teaching the younger members of Jackson how to protect themselves. But he was glad he could be of some use, especially with the way certain members still looked at him like he was a threat. Like he might bust down the doors in a blaze of ranging gunfire at any moment. He tried his best to build new connections, build a new life for Ellie and himself. A life his brother would be proud of. In the newfound dystopia he had begun to call home, he never expected you to be so motivating. You were a lot like him in certain ways. Quiet. Unapproachable. This made Joel want to do good, guarantee you were proud of him. 

For the last three months, you had haunted the halls of what was once Joel’s newly perfect home. As perfect as you could these days, anyway. You were always lurking. Your tight little body sprawled out on the couch, your hair fallen forgotten in the bathroom sink, your toothbrush in the same cup as his. It was too much for an old man’s fatigued heart to take. 

To make matters worse, Joel was in charge of training you. Every day, it was shooting, hand-to-hand combat, or teaching you how to use makeshift medical supplies. He hated admitting it, even to himself, but teaching you how to shoot a gun might have been the best thing left in this godforsaken world.

Joel would stand close behind you, wrapping his fingers around your hands to help you aim better. He would try to ignore it, but the way your tiny hands gripped the gun under his fingers was enough to spring his cock to life. He wondered if you could feel it pressed against your back as he leaned down, lowering his voice. His breath would be all hot and slow in your ear while he told you what a good job you were doing. You always tried to keep your reactions to his words internal, but god some days all you wanted was for him to press you against the wall and trap you against him as he explored your body with his calloused hands. Surely, he had to know. He had to sense how much you loved it, the simplest of touches having you weak in the knees. 

Despite Joel's love for the shooting range, bullets couldn’t be wasted and through his discontent, you were a surprisingly great shot. That meant today’s focus was hand-to-hand combat. A special type of torment in which you quickly grew fond of. You worked on blocking punches, throwing someone off you, and other easy ways to stab the infected. This kind of practice often required Joel to push you around, grab you tight against him, or hover his full body weight above you.

Joel huffed, his chest expanding with each heavy breath as he laid under you, his muscles firming around your strong grip on you pinned his arms down.  

“Ya learn quick,” he grunted, bending his knee to lock you in place as you sat atop him. This was one of the moments when he couldn’t stop picturing you naked. He imagined the way your tits would bounce in this position, perfect for him to wrap his hand around your throat or gently slap your cheek. 

You pushed off him, holding a hand up as he struggled to pick himself up off the ground. 

“Yeah well, you’re a good teacher”. You rolled your eyes, taking his hand in yours and balancing your weighing as you helped him off the plush grass.

“Yeah. Alright, square up. Let's go again, darlin” Joel stood in front of you, tightly wielding a sharp knife in his hands. He was always giving you pet names like that, the words falling from his lips and landing between your legs like rain. You watched as his jaw clenched, muscles in his arms flexing as he threw a jab at you. You swerved your body, quicking jumping out of the way and hitting the knife out of his hands. The blade landed with a thud, leaving Joel weaponless. 

“Yes! See, that was perfect.” Joel smiled, his broad shoulders spreading as he stretched his arms out. He wasn’t lying, you learned far quicker than he liked to admit, the end of your training with him just a few weeks away. “That's enough for today. Gettin’ kinda late”. Joel patted your back, a simple praise of how well you performed.

All Joel really wanted at this moment was to get you underneath him, and not in the “pretend to fight me off” type of way. In a way that would have you whimpering his name and your legs quivering. 

He tried to keep the invasive urges at bay, forcing himself as far away from you as the enclosed space of Jackson would allow. Even after avoiding you until dusk, your touch lingered on him like a parasite, eating at his tanned skin until it was all mushy and broken. He would be successful for a brief time, maybe even until the morning if he was lucky. Training you every day was gradually unraveling him. Bit by bit until he was losing control, a constant internal conflict raging inside himself. He could stay at a distance for now, but in the end, he could never truly escape you. 

For you, that evening had gone by so painfully slow, your body begging for some type of release. You had slipped into a comfortable pair of panties, the material hugging your ass softly. You lazily threw on an oversized t-shirt and crawled under the thick blankets of your bed, heavy as a bag of rocks thrown down the stairs. The bed was warm and through exhaustion, your eyes quivered closed. Flashes of Joel’s hands on you, pinning you down and throwing you around invaded your thoughts. All the training along with your daily tasks had depleted every ounce of your strength, but Joel sent a jolting rush of stamina through your nervous system. 

You let yourself lean into your desires, lethargically reaching your hands down to the bundle of nerves insistent on your affection. Any other day you might have been strong enough to ignore the ache, but today you were weak. Today you were consumed by it. Your hands found your panties in a pathetic desperation, a faint wet spot darkening the material at your core as you began to rub merciful circles. You bit your lip, a jagged inarticulate sound escaping. Your fingers moved delicately, needy and wet from an entire day of training, your subconscious daydreaming to get back into your room and play with yourself. 

The only problem with this was you weren't really any good at it. You knew how it worked, all the parts, and what you were supposed to do with them. You just couldn't reach the ‘end’ that so many people raved about. You tried an endless amount of times, even thought about hooking up with random guys you had stumbled upon in the past. But it never felt right, forcing yourself to be with someone just because they were the only one around. You had decided the high that other women described must have been a complete lie. Still, you learned different angles, different ways to finger yourself, and all types of tricks. Something was always missing, an extra sensation that would push you over the edge always out of reach.

Your index and middle finger created a slight friction on your clit, a rough buttery sensation against your panties. Goosebumps formed across your body as you feebly slid the restricting cotton down, spreading your legs to give yourself better access to pleasure. You added some spit to your fingers, a hushed wail slipping as you continued making small circles, biting your bottom lip harder and throwing your head back. You shut your eyes tight, the sound of Joel telling you ‘Good girl, that's perfect’ and all his other innocent compliments replaying. You sped your movements up, adding more pressure to the sensitive nerves. It felt adequate, but you knew it wouldn’t last. You needed more. Delicately, you dipped your finger inside your crying pussy. Your walls gripped around your finger, sucking it in further like it was starving. You curled the digit, trying to hit that spot that was just out of range. You hardly grazed it, your g-spot unobtainable. After a lengthy time of great strive your finger became slick, drowned in your juices but nowhere closer to the finish line. You groaned, your arms already becoming tired from the relentless pumping.

“Ya know, you’re doin’ that totally wrong.” A familiar voice spoke out from the dim light of the room, a dark silhouette basked in moonlight. 

You threw your blankets over you, jumping under the covers and removing your fingers quickly. You stared, frozen. Even in the dark with shadows hiding his facial features, you could make Joel out. Your mouth fell agape as Joel stood against the wall, his weight on his back foot. He crossed his toned arms across his chest condescendingly, watching in silence.

“Oh my god! You scared the fuck out of me. What are you doing?” You spoke fast, voice revealing how obviously embarrassing the interaction was.

“Couldn’t sleep. Head a noise. Thought you were cryin’. Came to check on ya.” Joel took a step closer, his eyes dark and eyebrows furrowed in a slight frown. “Didn’t mean to interrupt but…I can see you’re strugglin’ I can help…If you want.”

You racked your brain to find the words adequate enough to articulate your racing mind, watching as Joel stood, shirtless and chest completely exposed. You could see him now, the muscles in his arms, the scar where he stabbed. God, you didn't get to see him like this nearly enough. In fact, now that you thought about it, you weren't sure if you had ever seen him shirtless at all. Greying hair lightly peppered his chest, a trail running from his belly button to the clothed fabric around his waist. You were nearly drooling, his boxers hugging his thighs. 

“I-I”. Your chest rose and fell, your heart beating quicker than you were used to as you tried to make sense of his words. “H-help me ho-how?”

“Been standin’ here for a while. You're not comfortable enough, ya need to relax. To be honest, ya look scared,” Joel chuckled, his face a bit flushed but words nonchalant and composed. “I consider myself a pro in this area. I could show ya how to make it better.” 

“I know how to do it”, you snapped. You cut your eyes at him, a sudden rush of anger slapping you in the face. Who was he to tell you how to masturbate? He didn't own a vagina. You doubted he could do it better than you. 

Joel peered deep into your eyes, his stance at attention like a soldier in formation. He wasn’t going to budge. You knew he didn't believe you, not if he really had been watching like he said.

“Okay then, little girl. Show me…if you're so good at it”. Joel stood in place, like a stone unmovable. 

You felt pathetic, peering up at him with white-hot embarrassment. A switch broke and you had given in so easily. You didn’t put up a fight for a second, your core pleading for your attention to return to the earlier movements. “O-Okay”, you whined, laying back down and moving the blanket towards the foot of the bed. You let yourself diminish into the mattress completely, your body on view for him. You trembled, silently spreading your legs and scooping up the wetness dripping out of you. You placed your finger back inside, humming at the little pleasure it gave you. 

Joel let out a groan “That’s a good girl. Play with that pussy for me”. The tone in his voice was new to you, smooth like he had just drunk a hot tea. His jaw clenched shut, teeth clashing tight as sounds of your wetness vibrated off the walls. He wondered how often this occurred, how many times he slept through your cries of need. He moved across the room with a leisurely pace, sitting on the edge of the bed as he watched you sprawled out in front of him, body hypnotizing him. You felt the bed sag under his weight, achingly close but untouchable. You curled your finger more, listening to his hitched breathing and closing your eyes again. It was strange, him watching you like this. You tried your hardest to hit the right spot, letting out a huff of frustration and reluctantly removing your fingers, making circles around your clit again. It was clear to both of you. You had no idea what you were doing.

Usually, Joel preferred his women experienced, liked them a little loose and pre-used. He could be rougher that way, less careful, and more spontaneous. But fuck, you looked so fucking pretty, begging to cum but unable to do anything about it. He was sure he died and woke up in his personal heaven. 

Fuck, he couldn't believe he was doing this. He was supposed to be the man keeping you safe, not the one sneaking into your bedroom at night and making a mess of you. Joel hummed, watching the slight shake in your legs grow with anticipation of a climax you would never reach on your own.

Before you could stop him, too focused on proving him wrong and torturing the both of you, he was gently grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand away from your aching pussy. 

“Just let me... know ya need me. You were sayin’ my name, ya know?” The look in his eyes had changed from a hungry desire to a desperate soft plea, his voice a whisper in the suffocating quiet of the bedroom. He never had to be this cautious before, never really paying much mind to what his actions might result in. 

You thought for a moment, looking into Joel’s eyes for any sense of danger. He didn’t turn away, didn’t loosen his grip. But in his eyes, you could see it, helpless wanting. His shoulders dropped as he waited for any type of response that would allow him to come closer.

“O-Okay,” you whined, “t-thank you”. 

Joel crept forward, sympathetically hooking his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. Your back rested against his chest, legs on either side of his muscled thighs. His skin was smooth, warm like a campfire and his breath on your neck heated you even more under the chill of the snowy mountains. Throughout the months of getting to know the unmerciful brooding man, you had never gotten the opportunity to be this close, this intertwined.

“Like this, soft and slow” Joel whispered, positioning his fingers on the sides of your swollen lips. He moved unhurriedly like he had pressed a button and frozen time around you. In his mind, he never had to leave this room, all the time in the world to watch you fall apart. Tactfully he spread your lips apart to reveal the slick wetness leaking out of you.

“Fuck.” Three fingers hovered above your clit, the motions tender as they moved in repeated circles “What's got ya all worked up, pretty girl?” The pads of his fingertips absorbed the saliva you had paced there moments ago. 

“Nothing,” you swallowed, your words already strained in the back of your throat. Despite your earlier presumption, Joel could do this better than you. He was proving you wrong each time his fingers slid across, shockwaves forcing you to admit defeat. 

Joel hummed, watching his fingers soak in your juices. “Think it was probably me, huh?” 

Shane crept up on your skin, your cheeks impossibly more flushed. You shouldn’t admit it. That it was him. That it was his words.“I-I…just like the way you talk to me, is all.” The words came out a strained whine, leaning into him and spreading your legs wider, watching his delicate fingers dancing across your needy skin. 

“Yeah? Ya like when I tell you what a good job you're doin’? What a good girl ya are?” His voice was so light, his Texas accent almost innocent. Like he was talking to a baby. 

“Y-yeah”, you nodded your head, the simple four-letter word feeling like a monologue as you spoke them.

“I do it ‘cuz I know ya like it”. Joel listened to the way you responded to his touch. He had to get this perfect. Had to make sure you knew he was more than capable of handling your little ‘problem’.

Quiet ‘ohs’ quickly streamed from you, Joel’s fingers melting you into him. You tried to keep quiet, hoping no one could hear you through the thin walls of the house. Joel silently prayed that Ellie was already asleep, his heartbeat thudding at the thought of her finding out what was going on in the room a few feet across from her.

Joel quickened his pace, your clit swollen around his fingers, thick arousal coating them. He hummed into your neck, and you tensed. “Relax”, was all Joel had to say for you to nod your head and stretch your neck out. His lips feel to the exposed skin, placing serene kisses under your ear. He left a burning hot trail with his lips, his beard brushing against the delicate skin. He sucked a bright red spot where he felt you liked it the most, low enough for your shirt to mostly cover but still marking you his. The added sensation caused you to stir your hips, your legs and hands shaking.

“Try and stay still, baby. Keep movin’ like that and you're gonna drive me crazy,” Joel mumbled, his free hand wrapped tight around your waist. 

Joel dragged that hand up your body, placing it tenderly on your cheek. He turned your head as much as your neck would allow, a loud moan falling out of you as he brushed his lips against yours. His tongue danced liberally inside your mouth. Your perfect plump lips parted for him without a hint of hesitation, mint and beer thick on your tastebuds. His mustache kind of tickled, the hair grazing your lips. You tried to breathe through your nose as Joel sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, fingers still determined on shattering your sanity. You couldn’t remember the last time you kissed anyone, warm saliva spreading across your mouth and chin. You felt drunk against him, almost powerless in his grip.

Joel pulled away, a growl escaping him as you breathed heavily against him. “Goddamn. That’s my sweet girl”. You swallowed hard at his words, a sense of pride filling you.

“Can I put a finger in you, darlin’?” Joel slowed his circles, reaching lower, finally gathering as much of your natural lube as he could. He was collected, so much more confident than you.

You shook your head, a hesitant ‘yes, please’ was all you could respond. You were positive you looked a mess, but something told you Joel didn’t care. 

Joel hummed, “Yeah? Do me a favor then, sweetheart.” Joel brought his hand to your mouth, fingers lingering on your lips. “Get those nice and wet for me”.

You hesitated, looking back at Joel to find his brown irises, darker and glazed over more than that usual. You self-consciously wrapped your lips around his fingers, only spreading your lips enough to fit them inside. Your teeth grazed against him, the rough pads of his fingers dancing across your tongue. They left a taste of your bitter-salty arousal thick on your tastebuds.

“That’s it. You always listen to me so well”. Joel’s cock twitched at the view of your cheeks hollowing around him. It was bizarre how kindhearted he presented himself, his usual rough exterior completely gone. You wondered if this was the real Joel, one no one else got to see. 

Joel watched as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out, spit coating down to his knuckles. His breathing grew ragged, watching your eyes grow dark with lust as he hit the back of your throat. He studied your reaction, your eyes growing wider at the sensation of being so full. You strained, a muted cough slipping from you as he shoved them persistently deeper. You were taking them well, even through the obvious struggle. 

Joel removed his fingers from your warm mouth, slick and shiny with a mix of your spit and slick. He lowered his hand to your clit again. Hesitantly, with eyes glued between your legs again, he slipped one finger past your folds and inside your velvet walls. You sucked in a deep breath at the feeling, startled as he curled his index finger. It was so much thicker, longer than yours and the gentle stretch flowed through your veins like water on a hot summer day. 

“How’s that feel?” Joel tried not to focus on how fucking tight you were, his mind daydreaming of what you would feel like wrapped around him, all fucked out on his bed. 

“Oh god,” you whined, voice shakier than you wanted it to be, and your hips returned back to that involuntary bucking. “G-good”. His finger brushed against your G-spot, little cries echoing in Joel’s ear. This was what you were missing all these years. A real man’s touch.

“I know, baby girl. I know. Gonna take such good care of ya, just like I always have” Joel placed a kiss on your shoulder, his finger pumping in and out at a controlled speed. His movements were like a drug, clouding your judgment. “Think you take another? Or is this too much already?”. 

“P-please”, You tried not to beg too much, the pathetic whine in your voice striking Joel like a punch to the gut. Fuck, he would do anything you said right now. Anything.

“Always so determined,” Joel smirked, hypervirulently aware that you probably hadn’t taken this much before. Cautiously, he dipped a second finger inside you, stretching you with a heavenly sting. It was unfamiliar but invited and your body sucked him in further. It was more than your fingers could ever do and suddenly you understood why sex ruled everyone’s lives. 

A wet sloppy sound filled the room and Joel pumped his fingers with a presentation purpose, a hint of strength behind each minuscule gesture. Joel growled, spreading your legs wider and pulling you further into him, fully in his lap now. You felt his bulge press against your back rock hard. You couldn't stop imagining how big he was. It felt so thick against you, like a 9.mm gun in his waistband.

His fingers were a velvet robe encasing you. It was almost too much and you felt an uncomfortable heat building in the pit of your stomach. Joel felt you clench tighter around him and he knew you were close. “There you go, sweetheart”.

“Oh fuck, wait wait wait.” You tried your hardest not to scream, but the squelching sounds Joel’s fingers created were pushing you over the edge. 

You felt the man under you tense up, every fiber of his muscles firming. Regrettably, he stopped the movement of his fingers, leaving them frozen inside. 

“What's wrong? You okay?” A thick hint of concern or maybe fear just behind his words.

“I-I…kind of felt like I was gonna pee, is all.” your cheeks flushed, burning with unease. 

Joel hummed, moving his fingers again and ripping moans from you. “That’s good,” Joel chuckled, focused on keeping his fingers at a constant pace, “Means it’s workin”. He placed a hot trail of kisses down your neck again, biting at the skin.

You moaned at his words, that unfamiliar heat steadily finding its way back into you. Your legs shook almost uncontrollably, and you had to grip onto Joel's forearm to keep from slipping off his thighs.

“That’s it. Feel how you're clenchin’ ‘round me, gettin’ all wet and shaky under me?” You nodded at his words. “Just relax into me, baby girl.” You arched your back, biting your lip in a desperate attempt to keep yourself from screaming out.

The feeling of needing to pee was replaced with something unnamable crashing through your entire body. “Yes, oh my god!” you cried, throwing your head back and bucking your hips up into his hand. 

“That’s it. Cum on my fuckin’ fingers,” Joel kept his moments sharp, making sure to coax out every drop the orgasm had to offer. After your shaking stopped and your cries settled back down, he eased his fingers out of you. Your arousal leaked down your core, a puddle forming under your ass onto the exposed skin of Joel’s thigh. 

“Did so good,” Joel kissed your cheek, rubbing small circles on your clit again as you cried out. He grabbed your hand, kissing your fingers and trailing up your arms until he settled past your shoulder and into your neck. 

“Oh, fuck. Thank you, Joel”. You weren't sure why you felt the need to thank him, but you had to make sure you said it.

“You’re welcome, darlin’. Know I'd do anything for ya, right?”  His voice was soft and airy, slightly out of breath. 

You tried to focus on his words, your orgasm still thick in your mind. You closed your eyes, a wave of exhaustion hitting you like a brick wall. You nodded your head silently, lips parting as your heavy chest rose and fell. 

Joel smiled, he didn't even need to be inside you to feel euphoria. Being close, just talking to you was enough. Sex was just an added pleasure. But, fuck, he couldn't wait to show you more. He wanted to completely ruin you. He was a terrible person, he thought, but he didn't care at all. Not with the way you breathed against him, your head heavy on his chest as your eyes fluttered closed. 

It would be weird to stay, Joel thought. As he silently watched your chest expand against him, the thought occurred that he might get too used to this, already craving to rewire you into a whining slut. A little toy he could at any time. He was stressed, overworked, and constantly worried about Ellie. About you. Maybe he had finally found a way to release some of that pressure, even for a moment. Joel ran his thick fingers through your hair, admiring the way your body benignly twitched at the sensation. 

Sleep came and went in waves for Joel. Some nights, if he was so exhausted and worn out from a hard day of work, you could hear his snoring echoing through the docile home. Other nights you woke up to the sound of screams and then an earth-shattering quiet. Like he yelled so hard he woke himself up too. The mornings after a night like that always resulted in a moody, quiet Joel. Like his mind was racing with so many visions he couldn’t even speak. But right now, Joel’s mind raced with different thoughts. Less violent but just as powerful and forsaken. He wondered how far you would let him go with this little game. Maybe he could show you all the tricks he had built up over the years, all his experience preparing him for this. Leading up to please you. To make you his. It was wrong. He knew that. Of course, he knew that. But as your hand settled on his pectoral muscle, he felt nothing but unwavering satisfaction. 

The town already hated him. He was already a mysterious murderous stranger. What would ruining a girl half his age really change? Sure he would be berated and probably receive double the glances of disapproval but as long as you were under him, begging him to fuck you harder what did any of it matter. 

As he laid under you, his cock throbbing and begging to be released, he dreamed of shoving it in your mouth. He dreamed of watching you struggle to take it, choking on the head of his dick as it slipped between your supple lips. Maybe you would even like it, beg him for it when he was supposed to be teaching you how to live in a world full of danger. All the risk, all the pain and suffering this new era threw at him disappeared at the sound of your pleas. All he wanted was for you to gag on him with tears streaming down your face. 

He was a bad man. He knew it because behind all the need, all the repressed yearning for your innocent cunt, there was not a hint of guilt. Not the slightest bit of sympathy. To be honest, it shocked him. He thought he would care more about disgracing you. He hoped he wouldn't even be able to function, intense and unweaving regret causing him to suck himself back into the dark reality of this world. But it never came. That was the first moment he knew for sure the people of Jackson had been right. He really was a bad man. 

[captainmalewriter]

The 1000 Year Old Heart

Ch. 1

Deep in an unnamed cave somewhere in the Andes Mountains of South America, the HEARTS research team was in the middle of their latest expedition. Samuel, the historian of the team, read recently that some random backpackers had found wall paintings deep within the cave. After some initial research, it was discovered that these paintings had never been documented before. 

The discovery set the world of history academics on fire. Esmeralda, the team leader and archaeologist of HEARTS (and Sam’s wife) was bouncing off the walls when he shared the news. She had been dying for a good opportunity to use the last of her team’s research grant funds. Being the excitable woman she was, Esmi seized the golden opportunity as soon as she caught wind of the news. She expedited the paperwork processing and in just a few months, she was out in the Andes with her trusted colleagues and friends. Esmi was overjoyed to be back out on the field— especially with her beloved husband Sam right at her side. 

“Let’s GO, team! I’ve got a GREAT feeling about this cave!!” Esmi shouted as she went on ahead deeper into the cave. The rest of the HEARTS team sighed as they followed. After a week-long expedition, they started running out of steam. Esmi, on the other hand, was just raring to keep going. Even her husband Sam had to hurry up just to keep up with her high energy. 

“Hey Bebé, what do you think could be at the end of this cave?”

"Who knows! Maybe we'll find a mythical creature like a phoenix or something."

"C'mon, be serious," Sam said with a chuckle. "You know the supernatural doesn't actually exist."

“But I am serious! You never know what you could find in the depths of a cave like this. There could be an entire fairy civilization tucked away in here for all we know!”

“Yeah, yeah I guess so… Hey, uh, Esmi? I know it’s probably a bad time, but I was wondering if you’ve given our last conversation any thought since we talked. It’s been a couple of days now.”

“Huh? What conversation?”

“You know! The one about us hanging up our exploring boots and settling down to a quieter life—”

“Oh Sam,” Esmi groaned. Even though they were in a dimly lit cavern, Sam felt his wife rolling her eyes as she spoke. “I don’t wanna talk about that right now. We’re in the middle of an adventure!”

“I know I know! I was just curious if you’ve been thinking about it is all. We’re not in our early 20s anymore. We’re parents now! We can’t keep leaving to go exploring forever, you know.”

“I know that! I just think we can hold off this talk until we get back home. I want to enjoy this expedition without thinking too much about what if’s and maybe’s. Oh watch your step, amorcito.”

They reached a ledge. Esmi tossed a pebble into the dark pit. The thud came a couple seconds after. Nothing too steep, but they still needed to be careful climbing down. While Sam grew nervous just seeing the height, Esmi effortlessly scaled down the ragged slope like it was nothing. Sam watched her climb down with a glimmer of admiration in his eyes. In that moment, he was back in college.

It was at the school's gym where Sam first met Esmi. While he was struggling to get through his workout, Esmi was busy setting new records at the nearby climbing walls. Sam was immediately smitten by Esmi's beautiful smile and adventurous spirit. Being the shy type, Sam couldn't work up the nerve to introduce himself to his crush. But luckily, as fate would have it, they registered for the same advanced chemistry class that semester. Esmi struggled to get by in the class, and then Sam came to the rescue as her personal tutor. Although Sam was a bumbling mess, Esmi loved spending time with the awkward nerd. He was smart, funny, and so gosh darn cute whenever he got shy and flustered. Sam had a genuine quality that Esmi was very attracted to. It was something that a lot of men lacked. Too many of them were too self-absorbed and shallow. It made Sam stand out in Esmi's mind.

Soon after that semester ended, Sam finally made a move and asked Esmi out on an official date. Long story short: they hit it off incredibly well and became inseparable for the entirety of undergrad. They wound up graduating together with rings on their fingers. They then began exploring the world's secrets together, while also picking up a few new friends that would later make up HEARTS research team along the way. With careers they loved, a house in the suburbs to call their own, and a beautiful baby boy, life was going great for Mr. and Mrs. Benavides. Sam couldn't help but smile every time he reminisced (which was often). His frequent daydreaming was just another one of his quirks that Esmi found endearing about him.

"Okay everyone!" Esmi called out to the rest of HEARTS. "It's a short distance but the slope's insanely rocky. Just follow my directions and you'll be fine!"

Esmi verbally guided each member down to a safe landing. As always, Sam was the last one to make the trip. It took him longer to do things when it came to the physical part of adventuring. Sam tried his best not to slow down the team; not that Esmi really minded it, as she was always patient with him. She trusted him to get the job done despite his persistent nerves.

“There ya go!” Esmi said as she gave Sam a hand to steady himself. “You’re getting faster at this! I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, I’ve got the best teacher a guy can ask for.”

The two adventurers shared a loving look with each other. They were still holding hands and there was only a small gap between them. They probably would’ve kissed too if the geologist of the team Harold didn’t start gagging audibly in their direction. 

“Oh my God, can y’all save the lovey-dovey shit for when you’re alone!? We got a job to do!!” Harold shouted. Esmi brushed off his annoyance with a chuckle.

“Alright alright, let’s keep moving.”

The HEARTS team continued trekking deeper and deeper into the cavern abyss through its many twists and turns. Their headlamps and flashlights were shining at max power just to keep their ragged pathway lit. Despite the ever-present danger, the HEARTS pressed on with their courageous leader Esmi leading the way. 

They eventually hit a dead end after some time. Unfortunately, there was no secret treasure or historical discovery waiting for them at the end of the cave. The team took the chance to catch their breaths while Sam photo-documented the cave walls for their research. 

“Is everything coming in clearly, Ruby?” Sam asked on the radio phone. 

“Crystal,” Ruby answered. Ruby was the brain of HEARTS. Although she usually stayed behind during expeditions, the team would be nothing without her technological know-how. 

“Perfect! Are we good to head out, Esmi?” 

Esmi didn’t answer. Instead, she kept staring at the empty rock wall that stopped their exploration. She reached out and felt around with the palm of her hand. She did this for several minutes without a word.

“Harold?” Esmi called out. “Does this rock wall seem unusually smooth to you? Almost like… it was sanded down.”

Harold walked up to the wall and placed his hands on the rock. 

“You’re right. It’s too smooth to be natural. Something’s wrong here.” 

The rest of HEARTS had a look for themselves too. As they marveled at how smooth and soft the rock was, Esmi came up with an idea: to push down the wall. The team joined their strength and with enough force, successfully toppled down the fake wall. Much to Esmi’s delight, they had found a hidden pathway.

“Hey team, the signal’s getting pretty weak. I don’t doubt it’s gonna cut out if you go even deeper. I won’t be able to send an SOS if something happens. Stay extra safe, okay?” Ruby advised. 

“Roger that, we’ll be quick,” Esmi said. She then led the charge into the narrow hallway. One by one, the members of HEARTS squeezed through until they all ended up in a small, dirty room. At the center of the dingy room was a small pedestal with a brown box on top. The box sat wide open, revealing a metallic human heart sitting inside of it.

“Is that it? All this spelunking in some unknown mountain cave just for some polished piece of silver?” Harold exclaimed. The annoyance in his voice was palpable in the tiny square room. 

“Don’t be like that, Harry! I know it’s been a long, tiring road but we finally did it! This could be the discovery of the CENTURY in our hands!! Hey babe, do you recognize it at all?”

“Hmm… No, at least not off the top of my head,” Sam answered. “I need my books for an in-depth analysis. We’ll have to take it back.”

“Okay, perfect!” Harold stepped up the podium and snatched the box. Esmi gasped as he did so. 

“Hey whoa whoa whoa! You can’t just do that!!” Esmi shouted.

“I just did. We were gonna take it back with us anyway, so what’s the problem? Let’s just get the fuck of this cave already!” 

“What the hell? What’s gotten into you today, Harry!?”

“Nothing! I just wanna go home already! I’m tired!!” 

A shouting match broke out between the exhausted Harold and overly zealous Esmi. Sam took a step back while the other HEARTS members tried breaking up the fight. Resolving conflicts was never Sam’s strong suit.

As he watched the yelling continue from afar, Sam noticed the silver heart Harold was carrying light up. There was dull, red light coming from the intricate carvings and grooves of the relic. It was mesmerizing to watch. It reminded Sam of Christmas decorations. He was about to call the team’s attention to it, but just before he could, one of the valves began pouring out luscious red smoke. The smoke piled up just behind Harold. Within seconds, the smoke gathered up and materialized into a muscular man who was heavily adorned with tattoos.

"Hey, who the fuck is that!?" Esmi shouted. She and the rest of HEARTS took several steps back. Unaware of the man's sudden appearance behind him, Harold simply looked at them with a confused expression.

"What's wrong? Why are you guys backing away all scared like that?"

They pointed at the man behind him. Harold turned his head slightly to look back.

“Hm? What the—”

It was too late for Harold. By the time his mind registered that there was someone behind him, the man with tattoos disintegrated back into a floating mass of scarlet smoke. It took advantage of Harold's surprised, agape mouth and shot straight into his throat.

"Aaagck!? Uuuughhhh!!!"

Harold let out a low, gagging groan as the red smoke forced its way inside of him. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he convulsed uncontrollably. His shirt and pants became visibly too tight as his body became bloated with every gulp of smoke. An intricate spiderweb tattoo began forming on Harold's throat too. The pitch-black ink stood out harshly against Harold's pale skin. It looked like someone had scratched it on with a ball point pen. Awful, jagged, and hard to look at without wincing.

The rest of HEARTS watched in abject horror as a massive amount of ominous, red smoke filled their beloved friend and colleague.

Harold jolted his head back down once he finally swallowed all of the smoke. Aside from his now bloodshot eyes and new neck tattoo, Harold looked more or less the same on the outside.

Everyone stood still, not saying a word. The air had become tense. Sam swallowed a breath. It felt sharp in his throat as it went down. Something was deeply wrong.

"Everyone, get back!!" Esmi commanded the team. Her voice snapped them back to their senses. "Harry, try to stay calm and listen carefully to me. Some kind of entity just forced its way inside your body. Tell me: how do you feel right now? And are you in control of your movements?"

Harold lowered his gaze down to the ground. His eyes matched a baby deer in headlights. The corners of his lips curled into a slight frown. Then, once he finally opened his mouth to speak, his voice came out shaky and quivering.

"I can feel it..." Harold held a hand against his chest. "It's slithering around inside of me. It's—"

He cut himself short. Harold threw his hands up to his head, gripping his temples as he began screaming horrifically. Esmi ran to his side while the others maintained a safe distance.

"What's wrong!? What's happening?"

"IT'S HIM! HE'S SCREAMING INSIDE MY MIND!"

"Who's screaming!?"

"ALACAN! HE WANTS HIS PERFECT VESSEL! HE'S FURIOUS— AAAAAHHHH!!"

"This thing's getting aggressive! Hang on, I've got a plan!"

Esmi took a step back. She then pulled out what looked like an egg from her backpack. Sam recognized the object. It was one of the many supposedly supernatural items Esmi liked to play around with. Sam didn't understand how an egg could possibly help them, but in a dire situation, he was ready to put all his faith in a magical trump card. Esmi stood in front of Harold with the egg held high.

"This is gonna hurt like hell, but I promise it'll get whatever's inside of you out whether it likes it or not! Now hold still!!"

With all her force, Esmi slammed the egg onto the back of Harold's head. The eggshell shattered upon contact, covering Harold in egg yolk. The yolk then spontaneously combusted, engulfing Harold in bright white flames. Sam winced as he watched his friend flop onto the ground, writhing in agony like a worm drowning in salt. His blood-curdling shrieks echoed off the walls of the tiny cave chamber. Halfway through his screaming, Harold’s voice dropped several octaves. His voice became hoarse and demonic.

“AAAAHHHH-OWWWWW!! yOU fUcKINg bITcH! GeT AWaYY!!!”

Sam wasn’t sure what exactly happened next. He heard Harold screaming, but then suddenly he found himself lying face down on the ground in severe pain. The back of his head ached, and the scraped, bloody skin on his arms and face stung with the air. Had something pushed him away? Was it some kind of invisible telekinetic force field? Sam didn’t know, but what he did know was that he wasn’t the only one affected by the impact. The other members of HEARTS had been thrown to the wall too. However, while Sam struggled to pick himself back up through the pain, the others had already gotten up and joined Esmi in fighting off whatever entity was inside of Harold. 

They were fighting a losing battle. Harold had gone into a full-blown rampage. He was slashing away at them and himself like he had razor blades for fingers. Blood and ink splattered the area. Sam watched the violence with bated breath. His heart felt like it was ready to explode. He wanted to jump into the fray and stop the demon from hurting his loved ones. But at the same time, his mind and soul were screaming at him to run away as fast as he could. Get away from the monster before he gets hurt too. Sam stood there, paralyzed by an impossible decision. It wasn’t until he heard his wife’s voice that he came back to his senses.

Run!

Sam looked up. His eyes locked onto Esmi’s. His heart dropped at the sight of her bloodied face. Her mouth was moving, but Sam couldn’t hear her through the adrenaline pumping in his veins. Esmi strained her voice, shouting again and again until finally, her words reached him.

“RUN! RUN AWAY, SAM! SAVE YOURSELF BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE!!”

Without any hesitation, Sam turned around and bolted out of there. The last thing he heard was the amalgamation of several screaming voices behind him. But even that sound was tuned out by him focusing on running at full speed. Sam ran with every last bit of energy he had in his body. He did not stop until he made it out of the cave and back to their campsite, where Ruby waited patiently for the team’s return. Needless to say she was flabbergasted when Sam came charging in by himself. She tended to his wounds while he took the time to catch his breath. 

“Are you okay? What happened back there, Sam?” Ruby asked. His eyes darted around wildly as he processed what he had just experienced. Although he had regained some of his composure, it still took him quite some time before he could finally speak again. 

“The cave collapsed…” Sam started. His voice came out flat and monotone. “They were crushed under the rubble... I-I had to get out there before I got caught too.” 

“Oh my God… Everyone’s gone?”

“Everyone’s gone… Everyone.”

Sam repeated that last sentence out loud several times. Like he was trying to convince himself as opposed to Ruby. Naturally, Ruby broke down in tears at the shocking and sudden loss of her close friends. Sam was devastated too, though he shed no tears for his face was locked in a thousand-yard stare. He had just lost the love of his life to a demon. It was a truth his mind couldn’t accept as reality. Sam had survived, but his soul had gotten killed in the process. 

…Over the course of the next 48 hours, Sam and Ruby gathered their belongings and returned to their research headquarters with essentially nothing to show for it. Nothing but tragedy anyway. Sam had fallen into a stoic silence. Although she was equally grief-stricken, Ruby took the initiative to report what had happened. She figured Sam just needed time to mentally recover after what he had endured firsthand. 

Once it was all said and done, Sam returned to his household— alone. He relieved the nanny from her duties, then sat in silence in the living room. The trauma from the past week weighed heavily on Sam’s body and mind. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm down, but to no avail. Sam rose from the couch and made his way to his son’s bedroom where Abel was sound asleep in his crib. The nanny had just tucked him in for the night. A slight smile cracked on Sam’s face. The sight of his baby boy sleeping peacefully was the only thing that gave him peace. 

He watched him sleep for a few minutes, then ran off to his bedroom when a sudden realization hit him like a pile of bricks. Sam rummaged through all of Esmi’s old stuff. She collected various paranormal things over the years as a personal hobby. Sam never really cared for the supernatural the way Esmi did. But after the violent encounter he had in the Andes, he had no choice but to believe now. He pulled an all-nighter as he studied everything he could through Esmi’s collections. By the time the next morning came, Sam had crafted two charmed necklaces designed to protect the wearer from supernatural harm. He designed the necklace charm specifically to resemble the accursed relic that brought him so much pain in hopes that it would grant extra protection against it. Sam was no expert craftsman by any means, but he hoped they would get the job done.

Sam donned one of the necklaces, then went to the nursery room with the other in hand. 

“There you go, mi cariñito…” Sam whispered as he carefully placed the other necklace around Abel’s neck. The eerie jewelry looked out of place on a 1-year-old baby, but Sam didn't care. He refused to take any chances. He knew he didn’t have the privilege of blissful ignorance anymore. There was no telling if/when another demonic entity would try to attack them. Sam shuddered at the thought. Abel cooed in his arms as he woke up. Sam shook off the bad thoughts and held his son close to his chest, their necklace charms almost touching. 

“Those evil demons took away Mamá, but they will never hurt our family ever again. I promise I’ll protect you no matter what, my sweet little Abel. Papá’s here, forever and always.”