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too-much-tma-stuff · 8 months ago

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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.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #fanfiction #dead on main #jason todd #finally getting help au #Danny is pregnant #trans!Danny #vlad is a creep #bruce wayne #jazz fenton #damian wayne #tim drake #multi part fic #long post #unedited #let me know if you find any mistakes

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caffeinewitchcraft · 6 months ago

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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.

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(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!

#my writing #the hero and hope #second person #multi part fic #short story #kind of #the total piece is 20k words

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missfrustration · 8 days ago

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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)

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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 youf 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.

#x reader #fanfic #fem reader #reader insert #ao3 fanfic #my fanfic #one piece #luffy #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #one piece luffy #straw hat luffy #monkey d luffy #monkey d. luffy x you #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy one piece #multi part fic

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cherry-pop-elf · 5 days ago

Text

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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@dinkyzoop @danart501 @spudfromspace @niyamamiya

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b38rman · 9 days ago

Text

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.”

152 notes · View notes

tadpolesonalgae · 27 days ago

Text

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.”

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna @acoazlove

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes @kksbookstuff @feerique @ratgirl2020 @just-m-2

#azriel x reader #blood-borne #vampire!azriel x reader #azriel x reader fic #multi part fic #blood borne

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aciddrattboyy · 2 months ago

Text

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

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cyberkitty1 · 5 months ago

Text

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

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firerose18991 · 3 months ago

Text

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?”

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cinnamon-galaxies · 6 months ago

Note

Hello! I wanted to request since I saw your box was open. I would like to request a Alastor x husk's sister!overlord!reader and Alastor does not own her soul. She appears in the hotel one day to find Husk on episode 7, when they were building defenses in the hotel before Charlie, Veggie and Alastor returns, she lectures him and later says something like, 'At least, there's something merciful about Alastor. He never broadcasted your screams, that I don't need to hear or to have nightmares about' and 'I'm just glad to see your alive and safe', and Alastor is in love with her. I don't want it to be angst much just some fluff. Thank you! ^^

⠀

The Cat and the Radio Demon - Part 1

Pairings: Alastor x Fem!Overlord!Reader / Reader is Husk’s sister

Warnings/Tags: female reader, reader is Husk’s sister, reader is an overlord, use of alcohol, fluff (?), mutual pining, mention of toxic ex, Husk does NOT approve, English is not my first language! (Tags might change with upcoming parts but there’s no 18+ content planned for this fic.)

Summary: As Husk’s sister, you visit him the day before the upcoming extermination and find the hotel in a surprisingly chaotic state. During a deep conversation with your brother, you not only learn that heaven has specifically targeted the hotel this time but you also discover that an old acquaintance, whom you haven’t seen for seven years, is currently residing at the hotel. You decide to support the residents in their battle against the angels, hoping to also reconnect with the overlord who has intrigued you for decades – unaware that he shares your complicated feelings.

Wordcount: 4.6k

A/N: This will be a multi-part fic! It took me so long to write because I just couldn’t decide which way I wanted the story to go. This part is set during season 1 episode 7 and doesn’t feature much fluff yet because it mostly focuses on the relationship between Husk and the reader as well as the past between the reader and Alastor. I promise there will be a lot more fluff in the upcoming chapters! Comment if you like to get tagged in part two and I’ll add you to the list :D

Masterlist

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Your thoughts race as you walk up the hill towards the Hazbin Hotel. Since the next extermination is about to happen tomorrow, you want to visit your brother just in case things don’t end well for any of you. With a deep sigh you raise your hand to knock on the huge double door as loud rumbling noises catch your attention. Voices mixed with clatter and hammering make the hotel sound like a building site and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. Knowing well that no one would hear your knocks under this turmoil you decide to just open the door and step inside.

The noises get louder when you enter the lobby and you freeze at the unexpected sight. The whole entrance area looks in fact like a building site. Little egg demons rush back and forth, carrying long wooden slats that must be at least triple as heavy as them. Most of the windows are bolded with messy wood paneling scattered across the window frames to shield the hotel from outside, letting almost no light through. The whole establishment looks like a lost place and you would've described it as one if there weren't the rumbling of woodwork and the scatter of voices echoing through the room.

“Uhm, hello?” you announce your arrival, calling over the loud noises. You turn on your heels, letting your gaze wander around the gallery as you search for a familiar face – or at least for someone who isn’t an egg.

When you tilt your head back, your eyes trail along the balcony that's surrounding the lobby on the first floor until your gaze gets stuck on three figures barricading the upper windows.

“Hello?” you call again, this time louder. One of the figures stops hammering and turns around. A huge grin spreads across their face as they approach the balcony, leaning over the railing to look down at you. You immediately wave as you recognize Angel.

“Oh hey, toots!” he greets you with an excited voice and waves back, holding a hammer in each set of his hands.

You open your mouth to ask him for your brother as Angel already turns around and disappears so far behind the railing that you can only see the upper tufts of his fluffy hair. He moves his head back and forth, unintelligible voices, then it gets quiet until the pointy ears and huge wings of your brother appear in your sight.

“Oh, hello, Y/N!” he shouts over the railing, “Give me a moment, I’ll come down!” He raises his hand to silently signal you to wait and walks over to the stairs. He approaches you with widely spread arms and a welcoming smile on his typically grumpy face, and pulls you in a tight embrace.

Returning his smile you lean into his familiar hug and a comfortable warmth spreads through your body.

“Hey there, sis. I haven’t seen you in what feels like ages! What are you doing here?” Husk squeezes you for a short moment before he lets go and musters your appearance with furrowed eyebrows, checking if something has changed since your last encounter. But you still look the same: a few inches shorter than him, your hair cut into a messy shoulder-length bob with loose curls falling in your face and tickling your nose and cheeks. In comparison to your brother’s appearance your sinner form looks mostly human – your pointy ears and fluffy tail are the only feline features that suggest a kinship with your brother. Other than that, you couldn't look more different from each other.

You clear your throat and your voice runs deeper as you explain, “I wanted to see you before the next extermination. You know, in case something happens to one of us.” It has always been your personal ritual to meet a few days before an extermination happens but since this one is about to happen much earlier than normally, Husk didn't expect to see you this time – thus making him even more excited about your visit.

“You want a drink?” he points with his chin at the bar and you nod, following over to the swampy-looking structure.

“But please none of those throat-burning hellfire liquids. You know I prefer the lighter ones,” you laugh.

Husk chuckles at your comment and slips behind the bar, his eyes searching the shelf before he takes two bottles and mixes you a light daiquiri with lots of ice to dissolve the taste of the alcohol a little.

“Thank you.” Husk places the drink on the counter and you pull it closer but not intending to take a sip until at least one of the ice cubes has completely melted.

Husk opens himself a bottle of cheap booze and places his elbows on the counter, resting his chin in one of his hands while holding the bottle in the other. “So… How are things going?” he asks curiously between two sips, a sly smile on his face.

“Nothing too exciting,” you reply, twirling the straw in your drink, the ice cubes clinking against the glass. For a moment, you're lost in thought, recalling the events of the past six months. Then, something clicks in your mind, and your eyebrows shoot up. “Ah, that bastard Visco finally got what he deserved!”

“Oh, really? T’was about time something happens,” Husk mumbles with a grunt and his eyes narrow. Visco, your ex, has been loathed by Husk ever since you introduced them. And honestly, Husk's feelings are completely justified. Visco isn't just a scumbag; he's also a cheater and a terrible liar. He's always tried to shift blame onto you for his mistakes. Even though you ended things with him years ago, he hasn't let go and continues to shadow your every move, denying you peace. If it were possible in hell, you'd have already obtained a restraining order against him. Not even your overlord powers can keep this jerk at bay. Despite your formidable reputation, he sees you as harmless, like a kitten, which is infuriating.

“Yeah, he lost his home and all of the assets after fucking with the wrong demon. Eventually lost his soul to some drug overlord who now keeps him on a tight leash. And well… I might have involved myself a little to make that happen.” You feel a sense of satisfaction as you explain, wearing a proud and mischievous grin on your face. You can feel your eyes change their color for a quick second, before taking the first sip of your drink. The strong flavor of rum is mellowed by the melting ice, allowing the tang of lime and the hint of elderflower to dominate the drink with a subtle sweetness.

“It would surprise me if you hadn't had at least a little influence on it. Took you long enough,” Husk grumbles and you roll your eyes.

“You know very well that despite my status I’m not one of those who prefer to resolve their problems with violence. I like to let my intellect play the game and make up my own rules. And this time, the circumstances had aligned well enough for the best possible revenge!”

The cat demon chuckles and shakes his head in amusement. He knows you well enough to understand how important it is for you to gain your power through subliminal actions.

He clears his throat and looks over to his comrades who are still busy with covering the windows in wood panels. “Well, even though I’m glad you’re here, Y/N, we shouldn’t spend too much time just chatting. We have to prepare a lot ‘cause things will get dirty tomorrow. Even dirtier than normally.” Your brother’s voice turns into a growl at his last words and you frown in concern.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” Husk clears his throat and takes a long sip from his bottle, “the angels are specifically coming for the hotel.”

Silence.

You just stare at your brother in disbelief and you could swear your heart stopped beating. Holding your breath you blink a few times, processing the wave of shock. “What?” You exhale. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We just found out recently. Charlie had tried another audience with heaven but that fucker Adam sees the hotel as a threat.”

“Oh Husk…” you raise your hand and cover your mouth in shock, your ears planing under the surge of pity. “That’s horrible. I–I can’t believe it.” Your eyes observe your brother. He seems surprisingly calm despite the news he just revealed to you. But before you can say something he continues, “Did you know that angels can be killed?”

“E–excuse me?” you inquire, cocking your head in surprise, your ears flicking back up into their normal position. You observe a slight but smug smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Ya heard me right. They can be killed. Vaggie’s out getting some angel weapons ‘cause those are supposed to be the only thing that can harm them.”

You hum and bite your lips in fascination, then your voice drops even lower as you mumble, “Interesting…”

“Yes, but please keep it to yourself. At least for now. I don’t wanna get in trouble for telling you this,” Husk murmurs and shoots you a pleading glance before you nod in agreement. When there is one thing you don’t want, then it is your brother getting in trouble because he told you something he isn’t supposed to. Which doesn’t mean that it would be okay for you if he gets in trouble for any other reason. You want him to be as safe as he wants you to be. You are glad he is okay, still alive and unharmed. And hopefully his condition stays the same after tomorrow.

“What about the princess?” you ask, increasing the bite on your lip in curiosity, “Is she accompanying Vaggie?”

Husk shakes his head. “No, she’s currently out with my boss, tryna gather some support from his acquaintances over in Cannibal Town. I’m sure she’ll return soon.”

Your ears twitch in excitement. “Alastor’s here too?” you ask and try to hide your excitement. You know well enough about your brother's apathy for him. ‘Being done with his shit’ is how he once described it to you and you couldn’t blame him. You’d probably be sick of him too if you were on his leash. Honestly, the fact that Alastor owns your brother’s soul should be enough to despise the overlord but you couldn’t because you somehow had found yourself intrigued by him the moment you had met him for the first time. But this was not the only reason you’re surprisingly fond of him.

You can hear Husk growl in disapproval, proving your thought. His voice is raspy and full of annoyance when he says, “You know damn well that he’s forcing me to be here. So yes, he’s obviously residing in this hotel as well. Haven’t you seen him the last time you were here?”

You shake your head. No, you didn't. You had visited the hotel only once and that was almost half a year ago – and Alastor definitely wasn’t present that day. In fact, you hadn't seen Alastor in years, ever since he vanished from the surface, leading many to believe he didn't survive the last extermination – or that he had crossed paths with the wrong overlord by accident. You hadn't even been aware of his return until his clash with Vox dominated hell's media. Furthermore, your brother hadn't mentioned him during your last visit, which isn’t surprising, but bothers you the longer you think about it. You would’ve liked to get in touch with the Radio Demon again. The last opportunity you might have had to encounter Alastor was at the last overlord meeting, but you had skipped it for personal reasons. But hearing that he’s residing in this hotel fills you with a jolt of anticipation that makes your heartbeat go faster. You start to wonder why he even bothers to find interest in this hotel…

Husk shrugs his shoulders. “I think it’s better this way.”

You hum and roll your eyes as you raise your glass to your lips, taking a few sips. Of course he would say that. “He’s not that awful, Husk,” you respond with a defensive tone, earning a low growl from your brother which you choose to ignore. “I think you can call yourself lucky that you lost your soul to him and not any other overlord.”

You look at Husk over the rim of your glass as you take another sip, then you put it down, shrugging your shoulders at his gritted teeth.

“Please, Y/N, don’t start this again…” He mumbles and shakes his head in disappointment. The both of you had this discussion way too often over the course of a few decades.

“What I mean is that your situation could be worse if a different overlord held your leash. Okay, yes, he might’ve a very feared reputation and such but at least there’s something merciful about Alastor.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?” Husk asks and his eyes open wide in disbelief. He obviously can’t fathom what you just said. “He literally used to broadcast the screams of the souls he tore apart.”

You let out a deep sigh. Of course you know about all the horrible actions that made Alastor gain his infamous reputation as The Radio Demon. But honestly, you are in hell. Is there anything else to expect? Almost every sinner is somehow a psychopath in their own way so you can’t really blame him for doing questionable things to work himself up to the top. It’s not that you’ve never done it yourself. You haven’t become an overlord by just deciding to call yourself one on a random day. You had worked hard for it, often in crucial and unfair ways, overpowering the weaker with your manipulative tactics. That is just how the food chain works in hell. And your brother was no saint either. He had dealt in souls as well, betrayed other sinners with a second deck of cards up his sleeve while he kept them believing he was an honest opponent... He had been a cheater through and through when it came to gambling and the fact that he had used his skills to trick other sinners into giving him their souls made him no better. Actually, you had laughed your brother in the face when you had found out that he, the gambling overlord and master of manipulative games, had accidentally sold his soul by messing up his cheating performance during a game of poker against The Radio Demon. You hadn't even bothered to offer him a shred of sympathy for his newly acquired role, as you found yourself relishing the karma that had struck his furry ass. The only one Husk could blame for his predicament was himself. And truth be told, you're somewhat relieved that your brother has been chained with Alastor's leash. After all, he used to be a ruthlessly manipulative and disrespectful drunkard with a self-destructive gambling addiction, who never cared for you even half as much as he does now. Since he had lost his status as an overlord he had changed become a much better person.

Considering how much of an asshole your brother used to be, it is quite surprising that Alastor never treated him the way he supposedly treated other overlords he had tricked into a deal. To your knowledge, Alastor has never harmed or mistreated your brother in any way, nor has he wronged you.When you initially encountered The Radio Demon, he presented himself as a charming and sophisticated gentleman, with impeccable manners and a refined way of speaking. Over time, he maintained this facade, consistently treating you with the utmost respect, prompting you to wonder if it was merely a facade or if he had been raised exceptionally well by his mother. Except, of course, for his psychopathic tendencies. You and Alastor have been acquainted for at least two decades now, and from the very beginning, you found him immensely intriguing. One could even say you were drawn to his charismatic personality. He had even invited you out once, though you still keep that detail hidden from your brother. If he ever discovers that you and his boss had shared a private dinner, he'd undoubtedly throw a tantrum. Or much more. Of course, it had been nothing more than a professional meeting between the two of you…

You take a deep breath. “Don’t act as if you had been any better, Husk,” you respond to his comment in annoyance, reminding him of his once shitty personality, and he flinches at your words. Oh yeah, Husk has always been a master at dishing out but not being able to take it on the chin… “And to be honest, I’m glad to see that you’re still alive and safe. I don’t need to hear your screams on the radio and then have nightmares about it.” You laugh dismissively at your sarcastic comment and take another sip from your drink. You notice the tension in Husk’s expression and reach out your finger, booping his nose.

He flinches back in surprise and his stern face turns a little softer at your silly gesture. “I think I should continue my work. I feel bad that I’m sharing a drink with you while my comrades are working their asses off.”

One sentence the old Husk would’ve never brought over his lips, you think. With one long sip you empty your glass and slide it over to Husk who places it in the sink. “Let me support you. I would’ve come days earlier if I knew that the circumstances were this bad…” you exclaim, your tone more of a demand than a request.

Husk nods without hesitation. "Fine. We need any help we can get!”

With that you and Husk leave the bar and approach Sir Pentious and Angel.

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You support the three men in building defenses, laughing and chatting here and there. Time passes quickly and the other residents return from their missions.

You turn around when you hear the door open and go straight up to the railing, looking down at the entrance right under you. You chuckle in joy as Charlie and Vaggie come into sight and you clear your throat.

“Well, if that ain't the princess of hell and her girlfriend!” you call out and turn over to your male comrades, “Look, guys, who decided to show up!”

Angel, Husk and Sir Pentious stop their work and step next to you, a sly smirk on Angel’s face and his hands rested on his hips. “We thought we were fightin’ by ourselves!” he lets out with a laugh.

Charlie and Vaggie look up. “You’re… you’re still here?” Vaggie asks, her voice relieved and trembling in amazement. Tears well up in Charlie’s eyes.

. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” The princess shouts up to your floor and you shoot a grin at her, revealing your pointy fangs.

“I’m supporting you, of course!” you exclaim in excitement and Charlie’s expression turns thankful. But before you can add something, the door opens again and a bunch of people enter, dragging huge wooden crates with warning labels in the lobby. You cock your head in amazement. Looks like they were successful in their missions…

Vaggie immediately turns around and starts to shout clear instructions through the lobby, leaving her girlfriend behind. So you decide to head downstairs.

“Are they all weapons?” you ask with wide eyes as you glance around, counting at least a dozen of wooden crates.

Charlie, who you stands just a few feet away, turns around immediately and nods, her already bright face turning even brighter when her gaze falls on you.

“Are you really here to support us?” she asks in an enthusiastic tone, forgetting your question completely. A sparkle of joy flickers in her eyes and you can’t help but smile back.

“Well…” you take a deep breath, pondering the best way to explain your presence without it sounding wrong because you originally came here for a chat, not expecting the hotel and its residents to be preoccupied by such drastic preparations. “Honestly, I had just planned to visit my brother but now that I’ve found out about your situation I decided that you could need my help. I will fight with you all, tomorrow.”

“Oh my god, thank you!” Charlie screams enthusiastically, raising her hand above her head before she pulls you in a tight embrace.

You stiffen at the sudden proximity but relax after a couple of seconds, wrapping one of your arms around her shoulder. Three quick pets on the pad of her suit, then you slowly pull away. You are so focused on the princess that you don’t notice the shadow forming behind you.

“Charlie, I didn’t know you invented a guest!” a voice, distorted by radio static, cuts through the babble in the room.

You instinctively hold your breath and Charlie moves her head to look behind you. “Oh Alastor!” she exclaims, her arm tucking at your shoulder to signal you to turn around.

You do as the princess silently demands and face the new arrival: a tall and slim man dressed in a red pinstripe coat, a black bowtie and black slacks. His red and black hair frames the sharp features of his handsome face, deep red eyes glowing surprise as they lock on you, his huge smile widening into a well-knowing grin that reveals his sharp yellow canines. The fluffy ears on his head twitch the same way yours do when you get excited. Is he excited to see you? Because you are definitely excited to see him…

Charlie reaches out her hand, gesturing between you and the other demon as if she wants to introduce you to each other. “This is Y/N! She’s Husk's sister, and–.”

A chuckle escapes Alastor’s throat. “Oh, there’s no need to introduce us, dear,” he interrupts her with a dismissive gesture of his clawed hand and approaches you. His voice turns softer, deepening in tone and the radio static is just a buzzing background noise as he mumbles, “How could I forget about such a lovely lady…?” With those words he bows his head in a classy manner and leans down to take your hand in his. With a sly smile he places a soft kiss on your knuckles, resting his lips on your skin a little longer than necessary.

Your cheeks flush instantly at his gesture, and you find yourself locking eyes with him, meeting his crimson gaze. Your body tenses under his touch, sending shivers down your spine, and you only realize you've been holding your breath when he releases your hand and straightens his posture.

“Alastor, long time no see,” you greet him in return, a sly smile tucked on your lips as you eye him from head to toes and back to his head. After all those years he still wears this everlasting smile on his face…

“You… both know each other?” Charlie involves herself, interrupting the quick greeting between you and the Radio Demon.

Alastor lets out a laugh. “Oh, Charlie… Of course we do!” he responds with a raspy voice, the radio effect on his voice increasing. Then his attention falls back on you. “You didn’t show up at the last overlord meeting, Y/N.”

You shrug your shoulders at his indirect question. “And you didn’t show up for seven years,” you countered teasingly with raised eyebrows.

“Touché, ma chère.”

Charlie bites her lip and switches her gaze between the both of you, when suddenly, Vaggie calls her name and she excuses herself, leaving you and Alastor alone.

You tilt your head to the side, now finally able to ask one of the questions that are burning on your mind for quite a while now. “So, tell me, where have you been all those years?”

Alastor releases a chuckle and waves his hand dismissively. “This is a long story, dear…” Though his expression stays the same his eyes darken a bit as you bring up his absence. You bite yourself on the lip, feeling a surge of nervosity rise and churning your insided. Immediately understanding that this must be a difficult topic for him, you push your thoughts away, dismissing the topic.

As fast as Alastor’s eyes darkened they return to their usual glow. He twists his cane in his hand and leans closer. “Enough about me, Y/N. May I ask what gives us the honor of your company?”

There he is again. The witty demon you had found yourself way too fond of. You give him the same answer you gave Charlie and look around the room, scanning the tumult around you, the lobby a bit less crowded than just minutes before. Your eyes stay on a young woman in a lab coat who writes something on a clipboard, probably checkmarking all the delivered supplies and weapons.

“Another overlord would surely be a great support,” you hear Alastor respond, interrupting your mental absence and pulling you back into reality. “Voices say that you are remarkable at fighting.”

You close your eyes and release a chuckle before you open them again and face Alastor with raised eyebrows. His gaze lingers on yours, his smile a little softer than normally. Your stomach flutters at this sight and you turn your gaze away, sensing his eyes still staring at you. “Is that so?”

Leaning on his cane, he regards you in silence, his proximity feeling closer than before. Is that his breath you sense against your skin? You swallow hard, hesitant to direct your focus back to him. Instead, you fix your gaze on a random person in the room, feigning interest in their actions to avoid catching Alastor's attention. Although, he likely notices your avoidance regardless. He's far too skilled at discerning others' behavior to overlook such a detail.

“Don’t play ignorant, Y/N. Everyone knows that your combat skills are as formidable as your intellect,” he suddenly interrupts the silence between you and you chuckle at his compliment.

Satisfied by your response, Alastor tucks his cane back under his arm and places his hand on your shoulder. "I believe you'd serve as an excellent mentor for all the Cannibals outside," he says. With light pressure he turns you around to force you to look at him.

“Uhm.. what?” you ask, way too surprised by his words to be affected by his face right in front of yours. Cannibals…?

Alastor doesn’t respond but you could swear that his eyes shine in amusement. With a nod of his head he points in the direction where two huge double doors mark the hotel’s main entrance.

Holding your breath you follow him towards the exit, a jumble of voices coming through the door causes your ears to perk up.

Alastor chuckles at your reaction, obviously amused by your confusion and the closer you get to the door the louder the voices get. Alastor conjures a shadow tendril to open the door for you and you both step outside, walking side by side.

You stop as your eyes fall on a huge crowd of pale faces with black eyes and sharp canines. “Uhm… Are those your acquaintances you were supposed to sign up for support?” you wonder, completely stunned by the amount of people Alastor and the princess had managed to gather.

"Do you believe you could handle instructing some of them in combat?" he asks, both answering and ignoring your question at the same time. He looks down at you, though the distance between you is more appropriate than before.

You press your lips into a straight line and tilt your head back to return his gaze, your expression clouded by overwhelm and a tad of uncertainty until it quickly switches to determination. “We’ll see,” you smirk at him.

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gothamite-rambler · 1 day ago

Text

The Outlaws helping out Harley

Harley spent the last hour and a half recounting to the Outlaws the harrowing experiences Joker had put her through—his manipulation, the various forms of abuse, how he let her come perilously close to death numerous times, and how he always twisted things to make her feel like it was her fault.

Harley (concluding her story): After finally escapin' and acceptin' that Joker never truly loved me, I thought maybe this whole redemption thing could work. And, well, it has. That’s probably all I want to say about it.

She sighed contentedly, leaning back in her chair. The reaction from the Outlaws was stunned silence mixed with horror. Artemis even covered her mouth, struggling to find the right words.

Roy (speaking first): He threw you out of a window because you explained a joke?

Harley (coolly): Yeah. Fucked up, I know.

Bizarro (disgusted): He didn’t leave you in a vat of acid and not escape? He is good man!

Harley: Tell me about it. He’s dead to me now, stuck up at Arkham and always schemin' his next escape. I heard Slade gave him a serious beatin' a few weeks back. Caramel, I’d say.

Jason (checking his gun’s ammo): You mean karma.

Harley: Oh, right. Sorry. I said that a lot with Joker, too, for the smallest things.

Artemis (struggling to restrain her anger): Yeah, you mentioned the ice cream cake incident. Hey, Harley, we appreciate you opening up. It takes a lot of courage, and I’m glad you feel comfortable here with us.

Harley: No problem! When I started this group therapy, I wanted it to be a safe space for everyone to share what’s been botherin' 'em. I trust all of you. So, who's next?

Artemis sent a quick message to Jason, Roy, and Bizarro, receiving a thumbs-up in reply.

Artemis: We need to put a pause on this. There's something urgent we have to handle—someone awful we’ve dealt with before. We're going to pay him a visit.

Harley (crossing her legs, intrigued): Kill or no kill? I want you to be honest; that’s how my street therapy works.

Roy (checking his phone for the right response): No kill. That would be way too easy. He needs to live and suffer. While we’re gone, can you watch Lian?

Harley (perking up): I can watch her? Yes! We’re goin' to have so much fun together! Sorry for bein' so energetic; I’ve always loved kids. You guys do ya thing, and I’ll hang out with Lian. Then we can get… whatever you want. My treat!

Jason sighed and covered his face at her over enthusiastic response.

Jason (in his head): Oh my God, she's so hurt.

Artemis (nodding in agreement with Jason's reaction): Yeah, I get it.

Bizarro (sincere): Harley? You're... not our friend. I don’t want you to know that. Okay?

Harley (smiling, understanding what he meant): I needed to hear that. Thanks, pals.

Wiping her eyes, Harley got up and headed to Lian’s room to let her know they were going to spend the day together. Meanwhile, Roy prepared for their trip to Arkham.

Roy: We can be there in about thirty minutes.

Artemis: Jason, just checking—are you okay with this?

Jason: I’ll probably stay outside and keep watch because I will kill him if I see him. I want you to shoot him though, the leg at least. I had no idea he did... that much awful shit to her. He just keeps getting worse.

Artemis: It’s like the worst of Zeus mixed with Apollo. Let’s hurry before she catches on—she is not paying for our food either! Hera, I’m going to snap his penis like a twig.

Roy: Fair enough... Not sure how you're going to pull that off, but fair.

Artemis (cracking her knuckles): Oh, I’ll find a way.

The group moved quickly, just as Harley was leaving Lian's room, holding her hand and leading her to the living room.

Harley: So, it’s about dogs in Australia?

Lian: Yeah! It’s really cute, but heads up—Bluey and Bandit are sisters, not brothers. It’ll make sense when we start watching it.

Harley shrugged and sat down on the couch with Lian, pulling up Disney Plus on the television.

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too-much-tma-stuff · 9 months ago

Text

Finally Getting Help (prt 8)

Masterpost

The next day was less chaotic but not by much. They had to go through everything they’d taken from the Fenton’s lab, and reluctantly accepted Danny and Jazz’s help with the task because they were familiar with the tech. That was surprisingly needed since all of their gadgets were extremely obtuse and looked like household appliances. It was honestly surprising how good Danny was with all of this stuff, he knew what everything was, how to take it apart and how to put it back together to show the heroes how it worked.

“They don’t all work for humans. Some have to be fueled with ectoplasm so they need to be constantly refueled. Dad used to wear a backpack full of the stuff ghost busters style but that’s really not practical so this one isn’t very useful to you. I can use it though,” Danny said as he screwed the last part back on the.. Whatever it was.

“Okay, but why does it look like a blender?” Tim asked, baffled and impressed.

“Oh that’s because that’s what it was built out of,” Danny said with a crooked smile. “We repurposed a lot of household items into tech. Give me a couple toasters and a microwave and I’ll have three specter deflectors ready for you before dinner time.” He said as he pressed his hand against one of the gins and it started glowing intently green.

“Here don’t drop it,” He said tossing it to Batman, who did manage to catch it. “I fueled it with three shots, just in case Vlad shows up or another ghosts threatens you. And actually even with your charms I would feel a lot better if you all had specter deflectors since you’re all involved with me now,” He sighed and rubbed his face.

“Well… we can get you toasters and a microwave but we can also get you more advanced parts if those will work better,” Bruce told Danny, gingerly holding the odd gun away from himself. It wasn’t a traditional gun so it wasn’t upsetting but he still didn’t like it.

Danny looked very tempted but he shook his head. “No I’d better do it with what I know, I can get it done faster that way and they work. I’d love to play with some of those more advanced parts though. I’m sure I can come with some fun stuff.”

Uh oh, Bruce didn’t like that look on Tim’s face, the last thing he needed was more encouragement! But Danny was the child of mad scientists, he would get along perfectly with Tim, Bruce was going to have to keep a close eye on them to make sure they didn’t accidentally make a death ray.

“You can join me in my lab later,” Tim offered hopefully and Danny glanced up at him with a borderline feral grin.

“That sounds great, I’m sure you have much better lab safety than my parents. Love engineering, would hate to die a second time.” He said it like a joke, just the way Jason tended to. Jazz laughed, but only to encourage her brother’s coping method, no one else did.

“Alright, we’ll go to the nearest home appliance store and get you some toasters and microwaves,” Bruce said.

“Hell ya, I should have been adopted by a rich family years ago,” Danny cackled. Oh dear, he’d been so traumatized yesterday Bruce hadn’t realized he was Feral. Why did this keep happening.

He informed Alfred of Danny’s request and by the time they finished going over the more confusing inventions and left for lunch the appliances were waiting for Danny in the lab that he and Tim would apparently now be sharing. Danny immediately dove on the machinery starting to take them apart with practiced hands. He seemed calm and in his element but Tim stayed to supervise, both just in case something went wrong, and because it was His lab and they hadn’t talked about rules of cohabitation yet.

Bruce left them to it. Alfred had informed him that Jason had arrived and headed straight to the kitchen without saying hello to anyone else. It wasn’t a surprise, he was closest to Alfred, he’s want to help with making dinner, and get the basic scoop from his most trusted family member before having to face anyone else. Bruce knew better than to intrude on that, but God did he want to.

Regardless of what his children thought Bruce cared deeply for all of them, and he hated that sometimes they doubted it. He wished he was better at telling and showing them, but he’d managed to convince himself it was too late for him to change so he didn’t have to face the years of mistakes and trauma he had endured and inflicted. No matter what what image he tried to project, he was still only human.

He went to his office, but he couldn’t settle to anything, he did a little bit of this, and little bit of that, and just ended up pacing the carpeted floor. He left them alone as long as he could before he gave in and went down to the kitchen.

“Sorry to interrupt, I just needed a cup of coffee,” He said as casually as he could. The looks Alfred and Jason gave him said neither of them actually believed his excuse, which was fair. “It’s good to see you Jaylad, thanks for coming.”

“Well I’m not going to miss out on a new brother am I? You gonna have this one running around in spandex too B?” He asked, raising an eyebrow, it made Bruce wince but it Was progress because he was acknowledging their familial ties.

“I’m almost two years too late to stop him,” Bruce said regretfully. “It’s been… a lot has happened. I’m sure Alfred caught you up on most of it, but I’d like to talk to you before you meet either of the siblings.”

“Trying to make sure I won’t be a bad influence?” Jason asked and Bruce couldn’t tell if he was joking or accusing.

“No, nothing like that,” Bruce said, holding up his hands. “I just want to talk.”

Jason hummed skeptically, scrutinizing Bruce before turning back towards Alfred. “What do you think Alfie, can you spare me?”

“I always appreciate your help master Jason, but I can manage on my own,” Alfred assured, sounding amused.

“Alright, to your office then?” Jason asked, turning back towards Bruce.

“Or the sitting room, whichever would be more comfortable.”

“Office,” Jason said firmly, this was the distance that he was keeping between them. They worked together now, and Jason cared for his siblings, but he kept them all at arms length. For everyone’s safety really, if they set him off he didn’t want to hurt them, and he didn’t want to be set off either. It always felt like shit. Jason followed Bruce to the office and sprawled in the soft chair across the desk from Bruce’s. He remembered being a kid, sitting properly and nervously in this chair across from Bruce hoping desperately for his approval. How times change.

“I just wanted to talk to you about the new kids” Bruce started and Jason waved him away.

“I’m really not going to corrupt them or anything, I Probably won’t be around enough to make a difference anyway.” Jason said dismissively.

Bruce took a deep breath, controlling his expression and folding his hands on the table. “That’s not it Jaylad, Alfred must have told you that the boy died and came back?”

Jason tensed and green swirled in his vision, it was the same thing that Bruce had seen in Danny when Zatana asked about Phantom. “Ya he did.” Defensive and insecure.

“It seems like he, and his sister who was sort of a caretaker to him, know a lot more than we do about the effect that that has on a person. To help us take care of Danny she gave us a presentation about it, it… makes a lot of sense. You should probably talk to her and Danny about it really but I just wanted to apologize.

“I’ve been trying to fix this, fix… you for a long time and I know I’ve been going about it wrong and I’ve been hurting you.”

“You got a new treatment plan in mind, old man?” Jason asked, his arms crossed and Bruce wished that mistrust wasn’t earned.

“No,” Bruce sighed looking down. “Really Jason I don’t, I know I was wrong. This is something I just didn’t know I didn’t know about,” He hated his own ignorance, he hated to admit it! He was Batman! The way he kept up with other superheroes was always being prepared for everything and knowing more than everyone around him, but he hadn’t even known there was something there to know!

“This isn’t about that, and it’s not about you staying away from the new kids. Exactly the opposite actually, since they know more about this, and Danny might be one of the few people who really understands what it’s like to die and come back like that, I was hoping you’d spend more time here, around them. I think it might help you both.”

“Huh,” Jason sounded, blinking rapidly because that was the most sincere apology he’d gotten from Bruce and he didn’t quite know how to react to it. “Maybe… maybe.” He hadn’t met the new siblings yet after all, maybe they’d hate each other.

“Can I meet them now?” He asked looking back up at Bruce curiously.

“Of course, the girl's name is Jasmine Fenton, called Jazz, the boy goes by Danny. Jazz is turning 18 soon, Danny is 16.”

Right Tim had mentioned that, so Danny was about 3 years younger than him then. That shouldn’t matter too much, and maybe Tim will be right about the sister and can tease Jason about it. He’d been single for a while and wouldn’t mind changing that.

“Of course, I think you should meet Jazz first, she’s protective of Danny and she hasn’t been very involved in all of this. I think she’d feel better being allowed to… vet you first for lack of a better word. Are you okay with that?” Bruce asked Jason politely.

“Sure, I don’t really care what order I meet them in and… Look Bruce I know I’m mad at you, and I was really hard on Timmy when everything was still raw. But I’m never going to knowingly hurt a kid, or make life harder for them. If I can help them I will,” Jason said sincerely.

“Jason, the girl is less than a year younger than you. You’re a kid too,” Bruce said sadly. Jason froze for a moment, Yes he was 19, his mind wasn’t fully developed yet or whatever the hell, but he hadn’t felt like a kid since his death. Even before that, the responsibility for his mother, and then the work as a hero. Bruce wanted soldiers, Jason had never gotten a chance to be a kid really.

“Whatever,” Jason scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets and standing up, closing himself off from that sincerity. “Do you know where she is?”

“She’s in the library,” Bruce said, his lips twitching up in a smile. “She loves books almost as much as you did, though she seems to be more drawn to non-fiction.”

Jason hummed and nodded, heading towards the door since he knew his own damn way to the library, Bruce didn’t have to lead! He did follow through, he was clearly protective of these kids so of course he would want to be there when Jason met them.

When he entered the library he saw a young woman sitting at one of the tables with some sort of text book. Her back was straight and her legs tucked under the chair with her ankles crossed. It looked like she was self consciously trying to look put together. She looked up at them, blue green eyes looking him over critically, he could practically see her picking him apart in her mind and he tried not to fidget.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Jason Todd,” He said, walking over and offering her his hand to shake. She was very pretty, but he was surprised by his own complete lack of attraction, she just didn’t register that way, she seemed more… maternal almost.

“Ah, the dead son,” She chuckled, getting up from the table and reaching out to shake his hand, her grip was strong and her hands were soft and cool. “It’s nice to meet you, they mentioned you. Nothing bad,” She added when she saw her face. “And I don’t mean to be rude, I know some people are sensitive about their deaths being mentioned. Danny jokes about it all the time so… I just wanted to let you know that I know, and I accept you.” Jazz said with a warm smile.

Her easy acceptance caught him off guard and before he could help it he was baring his teeth at her in a snarl, defensive and probing, did she mean it? She grinned sharper bearing sharp fangs at him in a matching sign of… friendly aggression, something inside him settled. He chuckled and took a step back. “Well thanks, nice to meet someone who doesn’t look like they bit a lemon every time I make a death joke.”

“It’s your death, as long as it’s healthy you can own that however comes naturally to you,” Jazz promised, sitting back down at the desk. “I’d love to talk more and get to know you, but we can do that later. You really should meet Danny.”

“You don’t want to come with us,” Bruce broke in, sounding worried. Jason had almost forgotten he was there, he hadn’t realized how… all encompassing the short interaction had been.

“I’ll probably follow,” Jazz said with a shrug, her gaze turning stern as she looked at Bruce. “Remember what I said about never breaking up a fight,” She told him firmly.

Well if that didn’t make Jason nervous he didn’t know what did. Why would he fight with Danny? Would Danny fight with him? Why? “You really think it’s a good idea for us to meet? Why would we fight?” Jason asked her sharply.

“Of course,” she agreed, her eyes softening as she looked back at him, though her expression remained a little mischievous. “It’ll be good for both of you.”

#danny phantom #dc x dp #fanfiction #dc stands for disregard cannon #bruce wayne #jason todd #jazz fenton #alfred pennyworth #eventual dead on main #finally getting help au #trans!danny #Danny is pregnant #tim drake #Danny is feral #unedited #if you find errors let me know #comments welcome #long post #multi part fic

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britany1997 · 8 months ago

Text

Fate Yields For No One

Chapter Five

Well y’all, it’s been a month so you know what that means:):) Hope you enjoy the next installment in the series! I can’t wait to show y’all how this fic is going to develop even further!

Poly Lost Boys x Max’s Daughter Reader

Comment to be added to my Taglist for this fic or for all my Lost Boys fics!

FYFNO Masterlist

California, 1986

The boys were too stunned to speak.

Until Paul abruptly broke the silence with a resounding “what the fuck.”

You pulled away from Maria’s embrace when a familiar voice shattered your moment. You sighed, pushing your frustration down and turning to glare at the blond menace.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t alone.

The same feeling you’d had when you’d met Paul a couple weeks ago surged through you once more as you met eyes with each of his friends.

The bleach blond one looked disgusted, almost angry, with his eyes narrowed and his mouth fixed into a sneer.

The curly haired one bit his gloved thumb, his eyes skittered back and forth between you, Maria, and his friends. He bounced, shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to the other, practically vibrating.

The dark haired one was unreadable. Your eyes narrowed as you took in his expression. You searched for nervousness, anger, sadness, anything. But his face revealed nothing, it was almost intriguing.

Paul looked broken. His mouth slightly agape and his eyes resembling those of a kicked puppy. Despite his pitiful appearance, you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel any remorse.

You reminded yourself that you’d always been entitled to make your own damn choices.

The little utterances of “mine” that broke through their lips meant nothing to you. You had never belonged to anyone but yourself. And you had always been your own to give.

You crossed your arms and scowled, daring them to intrude any further on your time with Maria.

You felt a hand slide along your cheek, turning your head slowly until you were faced with your lover.

“Hey,” she soothed, staring into your eyes with a slightly nervous gaze. You softened immediately.

“It’s getting late, we’re already closed, and it seems like you need to talk this out,” she said gently.

You took her soft hands in your own. “No, please don’t go,” you pleaded, “it’s them who should leave.”

When she smiled, it didn’t reach her eyes.

“We’re working the night shift together tomorrow,” she reminded you, “figure this out ok? I’ll be here.”

She leaned in to kiss your cheek, “I’ll always be here for you ok?”

“Ok,” you whispered back as you stroked her face softly, causing a blush to rise on her cheeks.

Paul cleared his throat loudly and you shot him a glare that would have peeled paint.

Maria’s hand over yours calmed you down just a bit. She reassured you with a smile before she slipped out the front door.

With Maria gone, you were free to feel the depth of your frustration at the four men before you.

“What do you want?” You grit out through clenched teeth.

Paul threw up his hands, “what is wrong with you?”

Your face flushed red, half with embarrassment, and half with anger. You clenched your fists. Nothing was wrong with you. Something was clearly wrong with him because he couldn’t. take. a hint.

The dark haired vampire shot Paul a look that seemed to reign him in. Then he stepped forward to put himself between you and the three other men.

“I’m Dwayne,” he introduced himself gently, his face still devoid of any emotion.

“Ok,” you spat, “congratulations.”

His mask broke a bit, looking slightly taken aback by your hostility, but he quickly composed himself.

“We just want to talk,” he said, his hands up in a sort of surrender, “let us explain some things to you.”

Your eyes narrowed, and without Maria there to diffuse the situation, your arms crossed again.

“Explain things to me?” You felt rage bubbling up inside you, “what could you possibly have to explain to me?”

Dwayne, to his credit, maintained his calm, collected demeanor. The bleach blond however seemed to be seething behind him.

“It’s hard to know where to start…we’re your-”

“I know.” You cut him off.

“You know?”

“I know what you are, and I know what we are,” you flashed him your fangs.

The four boys couldn’t hide their shock. The bleach blond one pushed past Dwayne to stare you down. “You’re not a human,” he mused.

Dwayne placed a hand on his shoulder, “David…” he warned.

David rolled his shoulder to shove off Dwayne’s hand.

“Listen sweetheart,”

You scowled at the pointed nickname.

“You’re ours,” Paul cringed at David’s words.

“The sooner you get it through your thick head,” David tapped your forehead, causing you to bare your teeth, “the better.”

“Oh fuck,” Paul whispered.

You stared David down, your body shaking slightly in anger. “If you ever fucking touch me again I will rip your head from your shoulders and burn your decapitated body you arrogant asshole,” You hissed.

He hissed back, his fangs on full display.

“David please,” the curly hair vampire begged.

“Marko,” David turned to growl, “I won’t tolerate this kind of insubordination.”

You gripped the edge of the video store desk so hard you thought it might break off.

Dwayne yanked David back by his arm. With the way the bleach blond man glared at the him you thought they might come to blows.

“Do you think you’re helping right now?” Dwayne asked.

David rolled his eyes, “she’s disrespecting me, she’s disrespecting us.” he glared at you.

You scowled back, trying to seem unfazed by his egotistical display.

“Is that what she’s doing?” Dwayne asked, “or is she setting boundaries and making choices you don’t like?”

Your hostile face dissolved to shock. You weren’t expecting that kind of support.

“Love can’t be forced,” Dwayne continued, “you know that, I know you know that.”

David stared at Dwayne before sighing deeply.

You tensed when he moved towards you. “This isn’t over,” he hissed.

You scoffed, “yeah that’s what he said,” you hooked your thumb towards Paul, “I’ll tell you what I told him. It sure seems like it is.”

David’s eyes narrowed but he kept his mouth shut.

“C’mon boys,” he gestured for the men to follow him out of the store.

Dwayne didn’t even glance back as he left.

Marko shot you a longing look, but when you looked away, he sighed before following Dwayne out the door.

Paul lingered. He opened his mouth, only to close it, time after time.

“What do you want?” you scowled.

“We could make you happy,” he said in the softest voice you’d ever heard. “I could make you happy.”

You stared at him, his eyes full of hope and desire.

“If you really want me to be happy…”

He moved closer, hanging on every word you said. His fists clenched at his side, desperate to touch you but holding back.

“Then I need you to leave me alone.”

His face fell, any hope in his eyes had shattered and dissolved.

He turned away, dead heart breaking in his chest.

“Ok,” was all he could muster as he too disappeared from the store.

As soon as he’d slipped from sight, you rushed to the front door to flip the sign from open to closed.

Grateful for the solace that an empty store provided, you slunk to the back room to mull over the events of the night.

You slid down the door until you were seated, head in hands. Part of you wondered if it would be so bad to give in. The Dwayne guy seemed respectful and kind enough, and if you were honest with yourself, you weren’t unattracted to him either.

If you were really honest, you weren’t unattracted to any of them. Except that David asshole.

It wasn’t his face that bothered you, but his abismal attitude. He might as well have been Max Jr.

He didn’t own you. No one fucking did.

Then there was Maria.

Her beautiful face flashed through your mind. She was kind, she was brilliant, she was caring, and you could see yourself falling for her one day.

God you’d had your first kiss with Maria tonight and you were thinking about those possessive vamps?

How could you ever consider trading her in for these four strangers with nothing but some kind of empty ‘claim’ on you.

You sighed.

You couldn’t deny that you’d felt the pull. You blamed your stupid, uncontrollable vampire instincts.

But what was lust, passion, and desire when compared with connection, comfort, and love?

Maria was the one you wanted. You chose her, and you’d do what you had to to keep her.

Whatever it took.

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whiskeyghoul · 7 months ago

Text

Pt.5 || She blinded me with science || [Spencer Reid x Goth!Reader]

First chapter, Previous chapter, Next chapter

A/N: Get ready for some angst baby. So this is my first time writing something close to angsty. Which means I might not have completely perfected it yet. Then again there needs to be a first for everything. I hope you enjoy reading, and if you do, please let me know. My reqs are also open if people have any ideas they want to see written.

WC: 2,7K

Tags: Mild angst, conflicting feelings, a little hurt/comfort?, alt reader, realizing feelings, I don’t think this chapter is considered fluff.

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, feeling alone, hinting at past relationships?

Spencer POV

It was Thursday afternoon when Spencer had returned from a case. It was short, quick, which was nice because he wanted to go back to you. He had tried to call while away, to text you when he had time. Yet for some reason you hardly responded. You were slow to answer texts, the answers always short and quick. You had avoided his calls, when you did pick up they were equally as short as your texts. The tone was distant and a little cold. It was strange to him. The date had gone well, in his opinion, and he didn’t think he had done anything wrong. It was just a little nerve wracking. With every short message, every cut off call, his anxiety grew.

When they got back to Quantico, he was ready to head straight to your lab. Though he noticed there was no music when he arrived there, it was quiet inside. Too quiet. He gently knocked on the frosted glass door. There was no sound from inside, no light coming through the door. No indication that you were there. His shoulders sagged down, a little deflated. He had been looking forward to seeing you again, even if it was just to settle his own nerves. His hand found the cellphone in his pocket, he scrolled through the names until he found yours. Pressing the call button, he just really wanted to hear your voice. Needing to know if you were okay, if he hadn’t done something wrong. The phone rang, 3 times, heart beating out of his chest before you picked up.

“Hello, Y/N’s phone! Penelope speaking.” The familiar voice of their technical analyst sounded from the other end of the phone. Spencer furrowed his brow a little, “Hey, it’s Spencer… Is she with you?” He asked, his left hand holding on to the bottom edge of his sweater. “Oh! Spence! She just headed to the toilet, she should be back soon. Want me to take a message?” Penelope answered, her voice chipper, she probably didn’t know you had been avoiding him. Or if she did she didn’t let it show. “Can I come talk to her?” He asked, still a bundle of nerves, the bad kind. The one where a nauseous feeling settles in your stomach. Where every word could send him into a spiral if it was said with the wrong tone. “Ofcourse, I am sure you have a lot to talk about.” Penelope spoke, and he could tell there was something in her voice. She knew what was going on. It made his stomach sink further.

Just like that his feet started moving already towards Penelope’s office. “Thanks, I’ll be there in a minute.” Spencer said and quickly hung up before anything she could say would make it worse. He was quick, hoping to be there before you came back, so you couldn’t avoid him. He was there in a minute, like he had said, quickly and almost feverishly knocking on the door. The rapid rap of his knuckles against the solid wood sounded hollow in his ears. Penelope opened, trying to put on a bubbly smile. Though he peered past her to see if you were already back. No sign yet. “Hey, you should come in.” Penelope opened the door wider and he stepped past her. “Has she said anything? About me?” Spencer’s question felt weird. He didn’t want to come across as clingy, or that he was obsessed, but he just had to understand why. Why had you been avoiding him?

“Slow down boy wonder. I think I am not the one to tell you about that.” Penelope answered as she closed the door, pointing towards one of the desk chairs. Spencer hadn’t noticed how he had been nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet until she did. He sat down, trying to regain some composure. “Did I do something wrong? I thought the date went well. Maybe I rambled too much… That's usually what happens. I should have just stayed quiet, listened to her.” He rambled off nervously, his mind spiraling back to when he had leaned in and told a fact when you had been expecting something completely different. But you had kissed him after that, twice, it was so conflicting. Confusing. Paradoxical.

“Breathe!” Penelope urged, grabbing one of her many mugs with water and forcing it into Spencer’s hands. He took a gulp, hoping it would calm his nerves but it didn’t do anything. At Least he was silent. “Just…” Penelope sighed, “I can tell you that you didn’t do anything wrong, okay?” Spencer nodded his head, taking another swig of the lukewarm water. He hoped it hadn’t been out for too long, who knew what bacteria were growing if it had. Though the idea of it was a mere whisper in the back of his mind as his entire consciousness was taken up by his worried thoughts. “I should have told you before, I really should have but I didn’t expect it to happen this quickly.” Penelope sounded dejected. “What happened? Just tell me, please?” He didn’t like how whiny that please sounded, how desperate it made him sound. Even though he was desperate for answers.

The door to Penelope’s office opened, “Honestly Pen, I don’t get why you have to be so far away from the b-” You stopped your sentence as your eyes met Spencer. He was desperately clinging on to the cup he was holding like it was his life line. “Hi…” was all he managed to say when he saw you. Even with all the conflicting feelings, your appearance still left him a little tongue tied. You weren’t wearing the lab coat, so he could fully appreciate your appearance. The black and red patterned dress was cut low, and hugged your hips and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Your arms are covered with fishnet fabric, some parts more ripped up to create a few larger holes. More important to him was the belt, two clips extending to hold the hem, hiking up the skirt of your dress to show off just a sliver of your thigh. “Spencer.” The way you said his name still made his heart race. He got up from his chair, placing the mug back on Penelope’s desk. The blonde in question nudged you, Spencer could almost see the thoughts swimming behind your eyes. You must be just as nervous as he is. “I’ll leave you two to talk.” Penelope said, quickly walking out the door of her own space, leaving the two of you there. Spencer’s heart was beating so loud, he could feel the blood rush under the skin of his hands. It was too silent as you both looked at eachother.

“I want to-” “Why didn’t you-” Both of you spoke at the same time, breaking through the silence. There was a slight, awkward, chuckle that left Spencer. “You can go first.” He said, wringing his hands together involuntarily. “I want to apologize…” You said it softly. Spencer’s eyes flicked down to your right hand, twisting in the fabric of your dress. Your left was steadily turning a ring on your finger. Everything you did screamed nervous to him. “What for?” He asked, eyes focussed on you. He wanted to see everything, piece together every unconscious movement that would give away a deeper meaning. “For being a bit absent. I just… had a lot of work.” Lie. That was a lie. Spencer could see it. The way you averted your eyes, how your hand stilled in the twisting of the ring, your breathing hitched up as you said the last part of your sentence. Everything pointed to it being a lie. He hated that he could see that.

You felt the need to lie to him. To temper his feelings by trying to explain away what had really happened. There were tens of thousands of thoughts swimming through his mind about what could have happened. Did you meet someone else? Or realize he wasn’t your type. The differences being too big to make it work. “Could you tell me the truth?” He didn’t mean for that to come out. Especially when he saw the surprise in your eyes. “I am. I was busy, I had a lot of evidence to sort through, drugs, nail scrapings. I also had the reports to write and- and-” You were trying to convince yourself that it was the truth. That hurt. Apparently you didn’t want him to know the real reason. “Y/N. I am a behavioral analyst, I can tell when you lie. Please just… don’t? I want to know what happened, I thought we had a good time at the museum. I just, did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to, and I can’t change it if you don’t tell me.” He was pleading now. Eyes on you as you looked for an answer, lips slightly parted as you breathed out. Taking a step closer, reaching out his hand to yours. Just to hold it in his, feel you, decide if this was either a bad nightmare or a terrible reality.

When Spencer felt your hand in his he closed his eyes for a moment. This was real. He opened his eyes again, the only focus was on yours. Waiting. Watching to see your response. “Spencer, it wasn’t anything you did. Trust me. You did nothing wrong, it was perfect, and I wish I could have stayed in that museum forever.” You spoke, not averting your gaze, looking him in the eye with full confidence. Not even a tremor in your voice. That was the truth.

“Then what happened? I don’t like that you’re ignoring me. It feels like just the entire pit of my stomach gave out. Did I move too fast? I’m not good with these things. But I really, really, like you. You do all these things to me. Just… I can’t take the silent treatment. Not from you.” There it was with a sigh. His feelings, out in the open. Hoping it was enough for you to tell him what happened. Instead, you looked sorrowful, eyes almost glossy with what he realized were tears. “I really am sorry. I need time for something. I can’t talk about it now, I don’t want to pull you down with me. I will tell you afterwards, okay?” Your voice did nothing to soothe the pain of rejection he felt. Even though he so wished to believe you. You were hurt too and he didn’t understand why. Because you were the one pushing him away.

Spencer nodded his head dejectedly, a soft sniffle leaving him as he tried to not let the emotions overwhelm him. All the anxiety had left and was replaced by the cold, empty feeling of rejection. His nerve endings were no longer on edge, instead they were rather numb. “I’ll eh… I will go. Leave you to whatever you need to do.” His voice didn’t really sound like his own to him. Like he was running on autopilot and it was a preprogrammed recording. He let go of your hand, taking a deep breath, before he walked to the door. His hand was on the door knob when you called his name, when he looked over his shoulder at you you looked just as dejected. Your lips parted, like you wanted to say something, closing again, opening again. He could see you looking for the right words, but there were none. His lips formed an awkward, tight smile and he nodded. “Text me when you want to talk.” He said before leaving the room.

Closing the door with a hollow sound he took just a few steps before Penelope approached him. “What happened? Are you okay?” her voice concerned and laced with just a little pity. He didn’t need pity right now. He didn’t want to be around anyone. “Could you tell Hotch I need a personal day?” His question got a frantic nod in return. Clearly she understood it wasn’t something good that happened just now. “Yeah, yeah of course. Need anything else?” She answered, trying to be the good friend he always knew she was. He shook his head no, “I just need time.” He spoke softly before walking over to his desk. There was no comment from Derek, just a slight sympathetic look. He hated that.

Grabbing his bag and his jacket he quickly made himself ready to leave. JJ tried to stop him, files in hand ready to ask a question when he ducked his head and continued on. Not willing to talk right now he stepped on the elevator and pressed to go down. Walking out the door and straight to his car in the garage. When he finally reached his car and sat down it all hit him. His stomach felt heavy yet empty, but also like it was twisted in knots. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm down a little, tears threatening to spill behind his eyes. Blinking rapidly to push them back. There was no need for tears. You went on one date, he shouldn’t be this attached, yet he is. From the moment he had entered your lab he had been awestruck. Then, in the following week, he had started rambling and feared he had messed up by doing so. Yet you just smiled, asked more questions, let him ramble and rant about everything and anything. Content to hear him speak. He didn’t feel like an annoyance.

Spencer sighed, putting his key in the ignition and turning it, the song that came on was still on the same radio station that you had put it on, depeche mode sounding through the speakers. Quickly, his hand reached out, changing the station to anything else. Not wanting to be reminded of you immediately. He pulled out of the parking lot, driving home, a welcome distraction from his thoughts. When he got home though, he felt completely drained. Placing his bag near the front door, dropping the jacket over it. Toeing off his shoes before walking further into the apartment. He sat down on the couch. Once again alone with his thoughts. He leaned his head back, resting it against the top of the couch as he closed his eyes again. Rubbing his eyes with another sigh.

He wondered what it could be. What the reason for your coldness was. The fact that you seemed reluctant about it just made it weirder. He cursed himself for being able to read your expressions, your movements, to deduct anything from your behavior. He wished he didn’t know because it would have made it so much easier to be angry with you. To feel betrayed, led on, or even used. Instead he knew that you were just as torn up about what happened as he was. It made it feel even worse. He knew there was a reason, but the fact you were not willing to tell him hit the wrong nerve. Eyes opened on the ceiling, the faded green color perfect to get lost in. He didn’t know how long he stayed like that. Head tilted back, looking at the ceiling as his mind was both working over time and thinking of nothing. A weird combination of feeling too full yet completely empty. Watching the shadows stretch further and further, slowly fading until there were no longer any shadows cast on his ceiling. It was just dark.

That’s what it was like. The night taking over the sunny feeling he had felt. An end coming to the light he had felt for the past two weeks. The nocturnal cold setting into his body. How he hated the realization that dawned on him that moment. He didn’t just like you. He had fallen all at once, during that first meeting, without realizing. Now it was too late to tell you. He doubted you even felt the same. So now he was left to suffer the heartbreak on his own. To deal with the conflicting emotions you left him with.

At least the night was quiet enough for him to think.

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