#This will be now called Under the Red Moon Au

[shinmiyovvi]

Last wip before school starts so have this some sort of Lena for that one lore change of Vampire Knight and Noble Prince Au

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

Thank you so much for the part 2 of the shapeshifter AU! 🙏 The atmosphere is so singularly spooky and sultry. Keep up the great work!

on it boss!!

70 / 1.6k / part 3 of shapeshifter familiars!141 tormenting witch!reader

...

You wait until the early evening. It's the earliest you can run. Your so-called familiars won't come out while the sky is still bright. Even so, the moon’s faint sliver stands faintly visible against the sky. You pack your things and fetch your traveling cloak. Vital components. Your dagger. Scrying parchment. You've survived on less.

Something catches your eye as you open the door. The setting sun gleams off the little glass vial on your hearth. You grab it. It's the thing Soap left—what he was teasing you about; the "little treat" he brought back. You see now what it is: black henbane. Your heart beats faster. Out of anger or anticipation—you're not sure which wins out. You'll certainly make use of this. But it will be despite your demons. Not because of them.

As you set off to leave, though, you find yourself face-to-face with a different threat altogether: townsfolk with torches and pitchforks.

The mob's torches flicker, casting jagged shadows across their grim faces. Their leader, a broad-shouldered blacksmith with soot-stained hands, steps forward. The pitchfork trembles in his harsh grip. "Off to consort with devils, witch?"

Behind him, a farmer's wife spits at your feet. "My boy hasn't slept since your cursed raven perched on our roof! You sent those monsters to torment us!"

A ripple of agreement surges through the crowd. You catch the glint of silver amulets around their throats—crude charms of rowan berries and iron nails. Your designs.

"I don't want any trouble," you tell them. You already intend to leave this place forever; all you need to do is convince them to let you go in peace. "I swear it. I condemn the demons that plague the village just as you do."

The blacksmith's shout cracks like a whip. "Liar!" He thrusts his pitchfork toward your cottage and the crow feathers littering the threshold. "Found your nest o' nightmares. Bones under the floorboards. Charms written in your hand guidin' those beasts!"

A teenage boy hurls a rock. It grazes your temple with a thump that rings in your skull. "She fed my sister to the black dog! Saw its yellow eyes in her window the night she vanished!"

Then a torch arcs through the dusk. It crashes against your doorframe, tallow and embers cascading onto dry thatch. The farmer's wife screams, "Burn the hellspawn out!"

Other voices roar in agreement. The mob surges forward as one. Their amulets glow faintly as they near your wards, rowan countering rowan.

You slam the door shut, scattering glowing red hay, and bolt for the back door instead. You flee toward the forest. Warm blood slides down your face and trickles into your collar. You crash through the tree line. Brambles tear your cloak. Torchlight dances between birches behind you. They’re gaining.

"Kill her before she calls the beasts!" one voice shrieks.

Another voice, a child’s, cries, “There! By the elder tree!”

Your boot catches on its massive roots. You hit the forest floor hard. Pine needles stick to your bleeding palms as you scramble up—and freeze.

Yellow eyes blink open in the shadows ahead. A wolf.

The blacksmith’s heavy gait clatters to a halt. “Christ preserve us.”

The hound steps into the fading daylight, scars rippling across its muscular flank. Ghost. He bares teeth longer than your fingers.

You back away only for another shadow to fall from the trees above and land next to you soundlessly. The shape is feline—Gaz—but he's no longer the size of a housecat. He's as massive as a tiger. A growl thunders through him. He levels his gaze past you. At the villagers. They don't stand a chance.

You whirl back on the villagers with wild eyes. "Get out of here!" you cry at the mob.

The blacksmith shoves a trembling boy behind him. "Back! Back to the—"

Ghost lunges. Not at the villagers. At you.

His jaws snap inches from your thigh, herding you backward into Gaz's flank. Gaz pins you with one paw on your chest. He keeps his claws sheathed, but the pressure is enough to bruise. His rumbling purr vibrates through your ribs as he licks blood from your temple wound.

"Demons!" A villager hurls a torch. It bounces off Ghost's shoulder. Embers catch in his fur. He doesn't flinch.

Soap's cawing laughter rings from the treetops. He drops down as a raven, shifting mid-fall into human form. He lands in a crouch. "Och, look at these brave lads! Come to play with the big bad devils."

The blacksmith thrusts the pitchfork at him. "Back!"

 Soap catches the shaft and yanks the smith forward. "Careful now. You'll poke someone's—" He drives the smith’s own weapon through his boot, impaling foot to soil. "—eyes out."

Screams erupt. The mob fractures. Some flee. Others stand frozen.

"No, don't hurt them!" you gasp out. You try to push out from under Gaz's paw, but it does you no good. "Leave them alone!"

Gaz's purr deepens into a predatory rumble as he drags his rough tongue up the side of your neck to taste your sweat. His hot breath stirs your hair when he growls, "Too late for mercy, love. Smell the fear on 'em? Ripe as summer fruit."

Soap wrenches the pitchfork free from the smith’s screaming form, flicking gore off the tines. "Aye, let's make it a proper feast! Been ages since we had fresh meat that fought back."

"Enough."

Price's voice cracks through the woods like thunder. He stands under the pines’ shadow as if waiting for the last motes of sunset to vanish before he ventures out.

"You lot should've heeded the warnings. Salt your thresholds. Avoid the woods after dark." His gazes pauses over a young child frozen in fear, no parents in sight. He tuts. "But you meddled. Stole from my witch. Harmed her."

The blacksmith finds his voice. "W-We didn't—"

Price steps forward. His boot crushes the smith’s bloodied foot into the ground. Bones pop. "See, that's the trouble with mortals." He crouches to stare into the terrified villager’s face. "You don’t admit you’re wrong."

"Price, please, just take me instead," you plead. "I'm what you came for, aren't I?"

Price's gaze snaps to you. He rises slowly. The flicker of your burning cottage on the horizon behind you reflects in his eyes and makes them glow. His expression tells you how little choice you have in that particular matter. Where you go, they go.

Then he looks past you. “Gaz."

Gaz’s hand slides up your inner thigh. "Already on it."

"No. Save the foreplay. We've got a village to raze." He grabs the bloodied collar of your cloak and hauls you to your feet. "You'll watch. Then we'll discuss your ungrateful actions." His gaze flicks away. "Ghost. Gaz. Clean up."

You can only watch Ghost and Gaz bound into the screaming mob. Your body feels lighter than the air. Then you remember the weight of the henbane in your cloak pocket. The next moment, it's in your hand. You crush the glass, ignoring the stab of pain. You send it sailing through the air, and it lands right on its mark—the roaring torch discarded in the leaf litter.

The henbane catches and wafts up into the air as smoke. It curls upward in thick, narcotic tendrils. The smell is heady, its effect potent and immediate. Soap snarls as the first plume hits his nostrils. He staggers back and clutches his head. Gaz convulses mid-pounce, collapsing into ferns as his tiger-like form shrinks to housecat size. Ghost whines low in his throat and shakes his massive skull like a dog with water in its ears.

Chaos erupts. Villagers seize the chance to bolt. The blacksmith drags his wailing son toward the tree line.

Price grips your arm hard enough to leave talon marks. His other hand clamps over his nose, veins bulging in his temple. You cough into your sleeve. Your vision swims. Henbane's poison works both ways, after all. It’s powerful for those who know how to use it for their own ends. Black henbane is what you used to summon your familiars and what bound them to you. But its hallucinatory effects are more pronounced on those who have surrendered the greater part of their souls to magic—or for those whose bodies are already flush with it. Price, Gaz, Ghost, and Soap don’t stand a chance. Even your soul is so considerably marked by witchcraft that you quickly fold to its effects. But you, at least, can twist it and warp it to weave a spell that might protect you.

Cloaked in smoke, you transform.

The shift hits you like a lightning strike—bones crackling, muscles twisting, vision narrowing into a something wide and preylike. The forest tilts, and suddenly Price's grip is gone. He holds your sleeve, but not you. You slip away, tumble through your limp clothes, and hit the forest floor on four paws. The world sharpens into smells of damp moss and wolf musk. Your rabbit heart hammers against ribs as thin as wishbones.

You dart left--straight into Gaz's waiting claws. The tomcat pins you with a paw, purring as his claws prick your scruff. Then he sneezes, henbane pollen glinting in his whiskers. You writhe free.

You race deeper into the forest with the wind at your back. The woods close in, but thorns no longer claw your clothes; roots no longer trip you. You are no longer an intruder. The forest itself turns toward you, opens to you. Thorns tug pleasurably against your fur as you bound past. Old magic stirs beneath your rabbit feet.

"Clever girl. Find her." Price's voice slithers through the trees far behind you, syllables slurred but venom intact. "And keep her whole enough to scream."

...

← part 2 / [part 3] / part 4 ➡

more Price / more Ghost / more Soap / more Gaz / masterlist

[pinkmirth]

KEEPER!

SYNOPSIS! ⸻ you’ve fallen for your darling bodyguard, and you’re over the moon to discover that he feels the same. but this feels borderline forbidden . . . for just how long can you keep what you have with reiner under wraps?

CONTAINS⸻ ( 5k+ words of . . . ) bodyguard!reiner x fem!reader (black coded), fluff, nsfw, modern au, scion!reader (descending from a rich family/influential bloodline), hyperfeminine ‘girly-girl’ reader, reiner’s german, mutual pining, secret relationship / sneaky link, public display of affection (pda), food play, car sex (unprotected), slight dacryphilia, creampie, use of pet names ( e.g. mama, baby, honey, princess), reader calls reiner ‘ papa, ’ explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!

MY LOVE LETTER! ⸻ this post is an answer to an anonymous ask: ‘ what about secret dates (turned sneaky links) with body guard! reiner??? ’ oh. my. goodness! nonnie, you’re a sexy genius and you should know it. tagging the amazing @ramonathinks! she’s the one who even introduced this bodyguard!rei-rei concept to me, and for that i’m so grateful :) ramona my love, thank you again for all the delicious reiner thoughts you always send my way! now enjoy, xoxo ♡︎

reiner’s your bulking shadow, never trailing too far behind.

he’s been hired by your parents to ensure your safety. nothing more, nothing less. he’ll follow your every step and drive you wherever you please; after all, it’s what he’s paid to do.

things started off the way they should— professional. from the very beginning, reiner knew to keep his distance, and that he did. but he soon realized just how hard that would become . . . you’re effortlessly gorgeous, sharp with your words and caring to a fault. his growing affection was only a matter of time.

nowhere on the criteria for the job does it say that he should be developing feelings. observing your habits, committing them to memory and predicting your behavior is the only thing he’s got any business doing. yet, he loves to feel the softness of your palm in his hand when he helps you into the backseat of your car, even if the contact is just for a split second at most. he finds himself peeking glances at you from the rearview mirror, soaking in how pretty you look when you’re unaware of his gaze. in truth, reiner wishes you didn’t have such an effect on him; that would make work-life much easier on his poor soul. well, love isn’t known for being simple, now is it?

it takes about four weeks on the job for him to grow a soft spot for you. reiner’s always been a hopeless romantic, oh-so quick to fall. he’d willingly lay down his life for the sake of your own, and not just because he’s getting a paycheck for it. thanks to the job description, his devoutness isn’t questioned.

before long, reiner can tell you’re becoming attached to him as well. on a fateful night, he even overhears the phone call between you and your friend, something about ‘ mister braun being so sexy that it hurts . . . ’ your bodyguard is nothing if not a man of dignity. he never meant to eavesdrop! it’s just that he's stationed outside your room for night patrol. he’s now especially glad about being up at five in the morning; he wouldn’t have been able to hear this otherwise. your confessions pry a subtle grin from his lips. there he stands, smiling to himself in the dimly lit hallway where nobody can see him blush like a schoolboy.

‘ nuh-uh, i can’t! that man works for my parents . . . he’s completely off-limits. it's a damn shame, isn’t it? ’ you release a sigh, one so exasperated that he can hear it through the other end of the door. call reiner crazy, but it sounds to him like you’re yearning to have him all to yourself. in a sudden moment, you're emerging from the room, donned in a tiny pink nightgown. cute, but thin as fuck. leaves nothing to the imagination, even. it’s the flimsiest thing he's ever seen you wear.

reiner’s cheeks burn so red that is downright embarrassing, thankfully you're unable to see him. he’s quick to lift his head and look towards the ceiling instead— much more suitable than ogling the tits of his very own client. you wouldn’t be able to catch him staring regardless, considering how the entire corridor’s tainted with darkness, but he wouldn’t dare try to steal a peek anyway.

what he can see, though, is your leisurely smile as you tell him you’re headed to the kitchen to grab a cool glass of water.

“would you like to escort me there too, mister braun? or can i go do something by myself for once?”

you’re playing with him, he realizes. just mere teasing meant to be absolutely harmless. your voice sounds much sweeter at this hour; soft and casual, coated lightly with fatigue from a busy day’s schedule.

“as long as we’re indoors, you can go anywhere you like, madam.” says reiner, “i’ll be here if you need me.”

you make your way to the refrigerator, prancing down the mansion’s luxe spiral staircase, and reiner’s rampant heart finally begins to calm. he wonders if you’d meant for him to hear you on that call. (by now, he knows just how cheeky you can be; it was definitely purposeful.) nevertheless, he's got a job to keep. neither your mother or father would respond kindly if they were to find out that he's become attached to you, or vice versa. he can hardly imagine playing the boyfriend when in reality, he’s supposed to be making sure nothing suspicious comes anywhere near a mile-long radius of you . . . it’s laughable! he’s sure your parents have more than enough money to make him disappear in the blink of an eye— that chilling fact alone puts him on his best behavior.

reiner decides to conceal it; the way he feels for you. keeps his back straight and arms folded to portray the unapproachable persona that got him hired in the first place. you eventually decide to question him over why he so-often wears that solid expression, ‘ like he doesn’t know how to smile, ’ is how you put it. it’s the very first time that you ever hear him laugh, and you turn out to like the sound. rumbly and full of bass. he couldn’t bring himself to admit that in every waking moment, it takes everything to suppress his smile whenever he sees you.

eight months of being in his company brings you to notice that reiner’s a decent listener. he makes for a great conversation, too. sure, he’s just your bodyguard, but he’s got a good ear and a smooth voice. your talks with him are always so lovely; he gives you the comfort to open up about things you’d never be able to tell your parents. pride washes over him when you admit that he’s the only one you genuinely trust. and in these moments, reiner allows himself to get vulnerable too. he tells you of his love for football as a youth, how he takes combat classes five times a week, and that he’s got tons of sisters, brothers and cousins back home in the countryside. the pair of you are so different that the contrast could almost be considered terrible. though, the longer you stay in each other’s presence, the less you can bring yourselves to care.

you and your bodyguard have grown . . . close, to say the least. the way you’re always latching onto his brawny form seems much more than friendly, especially to your parents. ‘ i feel secure with him! ’ is your claim. they’d beg to differ, but your wellbeing is enough to keep them satisfied. reiner excels at his job, and more importantly, the big blonde lug makes you happy. nobody they’ve hired in the past was ever able to get in your good graces; you utterly hated all your former bodyguards. they were much too controlling, lingered too close.

but mister braun was able to differentiate himself. he listens to your dreams and fears alike, treats you like a capable woman instead of some spoiled brat. it also doesn’t hurt that he’s incredibly easy on the eyes . . .

reiner can no longer take it. the woman of his dreams is right in front of him, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. the smoothest advance he can make is standing at your right side and slinking an arm around your waist, with claims of it being for your ‘protection.’ but the both of you know it’s only the proximity he’s chasing after. the way he looms beside you was always more self-indulgent than it was for safety. he just liked the closeness of it all.

he feels so much for you, and he’s virtually dying to tell you. but there’s countless reasons why he shouldn’t— particularly the risk of losing his job. every now and again, reiner chooses to be a little bit stupid, all consequences be damned. he works up the nerve to release his confession with slow and careful words. you quickly reciprocate, arms thrown around the back of his neck and tugging him into a cozy hug. he takes you by the waist and pulls you closer in— god, he’s been wanting to do this for so long. reiner hums when your manicured fingers ghost his nape, nails grazing the ends of his hair, with your tits pressed to his own chest. the pair of you fit better than he ever could’ve imagined.

you don’t know whether to call yours and reiner’s relationship ‘ official ’ �� can it really be deemed as such when you’re the only ones who know? you dare not mention this to your parents, ‘cause he’s got a job to keep and you couldn’t possibly bear him not being around.

so, you’ve both decided that it’ll be a secret. shared only between you and him, so nobody’s able to intervene. dating your bodyguard is fun— brief kisses being shared when you’re the only ones in the room. the way he snugly hooks his arm around your body when escorting you feels tighter, a little more intimate. in a way, keeping things under wraps feels exhilarating.

your particular relation with mister braun isn’t verified to the outside world, but people are catching on. whenever you go out, reiner’s sure to follow. paparazzi-taken photos of you are occasionally uploaded to the internet, and it’s always a given that he’ll be included. after several months of being seen together time after time, it’s typical of people to assume that this so-called ‘ bodyguard ’ of yours is more of a boyfriend. they aren’t too far off, but you clearly won’t go out of your way to confirm their suspicions. you’re always captured in a picture of you clinging onto his burly arm with a glossy smile. your sweet expressions contrast nicely with his forever-furrowed brows. he’s handsome in this intimidating way, the tabloids say.

it’s a slow-moving thursday when reiner decides to take you on your first date with him. he waits a good hour and forty-five minutes for you to get ready. he’s used to this, of course. by now, he’s got nearly a year’s experience of waiting on you hand and foot. but tonight, his nerves get the best of him. you finish up when he least expects you to— for fuck’s sake, you even catch him pacing in the goddamn kitchen. the sight of you melts his concerns, just a little. you’re done up glamorously from head to toe, and reiner can’t contain his smile, nor hold back his stare. your light lashes are curled and wispy, with blush scattered along your cheekbones. your plush lips are pink with tint, and you’ve got on this figure-hugging outfit that he’d love to tear off of you.

you scan your surroundings, peering at every angle of your spacious home in search of your parents. after ensuring the coast is clear, you engulf him in your arms, wishing you could kiss him but you’re all dolled up and your lips are lined and glossed. reiner nuzzles his nose into the crook in your neck, inhaling faint traces of your most beloved vanilla parfum.

“god, you look so fuckin’ beautiful,” his whisper is soft against your warm flesh. you rub your hands along his broad shoulders, then slide them down his firm biceps. “and you look sexy in black,” you perk up at him, eyes round and gleaming. he loves you, he’s come to realize. and the last thing he wants is to screw this up . . .

he’s thinking too damn much. you can easily tell. it’s obvious in the way his thin blonde brows wire downwards like something’s wrong.

“reiner . . . stop it.” you order, voice serious. you only ever speak that way when you want his utmost attention. to that, he fixes his posture and stands tall as if he’s on patrol.

“stop what?��� is his vague response, hands loosely positioned at either one of your hips. you lift your palms to cup his face, feeling the definition of his high cheekbones and firm jawline beneath your fingertips. he’s gorgeous, you think.

“for one, you’re clenching your teeth,” you mention, caressing his rigid jaw line until the tightness lessens. his stubble’s rough and scratchy, but it fits him so damn well. “and you’re frowing, baby.” next, your thumbs trail up to his brows, gently kneading at the creased arch. “relax.”

“m’sorry,” reiner lets out, tone low and pleading. his hands rub at your sides in an anxious pattern. “it’s jus’ that you’re so important to me . . . i wanna do this right, y’know?”

“i bet you will, rei. no need to worry, hm?” you shoot him a soft smile, and he returns it; one of the rare times you catch a glimpse of his nice and shiny teeth. “now show me a good time, papa.”

right before taking your leave , your parents have questions for you— almost too many. you don’t have any business meetings or mall trips on your schedule, so where on earth is he taking you to? rei-rei claims that he’s bringing you to a new restaurant that you’ve been meaning to try. he’ll drive you there and stay on patrol; or so he says. they decide not to question the unusually neat way his blonde hair is slicked back, or how his black dress-shirt and slacks look sharper than usual. hell, he smells amazing too. it can’t be denied that mister braun cleans up nicely.

see, reiner told a partial truth to your family. you’re on your way to a new german restaurant that’s about twelve minutes out, it’s just that you wanted to try it out with him in particular. on the drive there, you just can’t seem to restrain yourself from gazing at the man. reiner looks so put together like this, in a strapping black outfit that‘s snug against his arms, chest and thighs. his side profile’s flawless— he’s got a perfectly defined nose that slopes down to his lips, and you yearn to lick on his protruding adam’s apple. he’s got one hand on the wheel, merging into lanes and making u-turns, while the other that’s unoccupied intertwines with your softer, smaller one.

upon reaching a red light, he takes the opportunity to lift your hand up to his face, trailing his lips along the back of it. “lieblich . . .” he murmurs something in his native tongue that you can’t seem to understand, though you know its meaning is a sweet one. your grin makes him forget all about the risk he’s taking.

upon reaching your destination, reiner’s back in bodyguard-mode. that’s how he gets whenever you’re in public. yes, you’re on a date, but your safety will forever be his number one priority. he escorts you in with a large hand fit snugly into the small dip of your back as he confirms the reservation. his touch never leaves you, not even for a second. he does that thing; where he takes a brief one-over of the area, scrutinizing his environment before making the next move. you go one, two, three stories up, to the VIP floor where your dinner seats reside.

it’s a lot, he knows— the velvet floors, fancy cream-white seats and glass-like walls that showcase an aweing view of the city. you’re more than used to the finer things in life, so the only thing he wants to give you is what you deserve.

you’re raving on about how nice everything looks, leaning back into your seat as you sip on a flute of sheer-pink rosé. he’s relieved to know that he was able to make you smile tonight. a waiter presents themselves, and reiner effortlessly engages with them in german conversation. his words are smooth and fluid as he translates all the entrée and sides you asked for. even when placing a simple order, he’s still the sexiest man on earth. would now be a bad time to kiss the hell out of him?

the next three hours go by quick. you’re chatting and laughing and trying bits of each other’s platters ( though, it's mostly you eating a over half of the food from his plate . . . ) you got yourself salted-caramel ice cream for dessert, and reiner’s mischievous enough to lean close and lick the dripping residue off the corner of your lips. you gasp at him and deliver a playful kick to his foot from under the table.

“what? you had somethin’ there.” is the given excuse for his rascal behavior. naughtiness twinkles in his golden-brown eyes. there aren’t many people up here on the expensive floor, apart from two other occupied tables located on the other end of the room, and a handful of waiters that leave the kitchen every now and again. he’s lucky there isn’t anyone to catch you both.

“you’re crazy,” your laugh is infectious, “don’t make me return the favor.”

in a quick motion, reiner swipes a finger into the ice cream, his touch meeting a subtle cold. before the caramel gets the chance to melt all the way down the length of his digit, he smears some across his bottom lip. his tongue juts out to lick up the rest of the treat from his index finger.

“oh, please do.”

being away from probing eyes has made reiner bold as ever. you take him up on his request, tilting forward so that your tongue can eagerly swipe over his lips and wipe them clean. mostly sweet, just the tiniest bit salty. you want more of him already.

there’s isn’t a soul watching, so reiner escalates it. in an instant he’s got your lips merging, his hand squeezing your thigh from under the table, hot puffs of air escaping you both. “oh my god— you’re g’na get me in trouble, rei!”

“so be it,” reiner mumbles in reply, his words ticklish against your lips. from underneath his fingertips, reiner senses how tightly you press your thighs together, hungry for friction. he’s even beginning to feel worked up himself. but, the pair of you haven’t gone that far yet. the most you’ve done are hour-long makeout sessions on your king-sized bed in the earliest points of the day, when you have enough privacy to get away with it. but you wouldn’t mind feeling him in a new way tonight . . .

“you wanna get out of here, don’t you, mama?” reiner coos, cheeks rosier with his eyes slightly lidded. “mhm,” you’re quick to agree. so he puts the payment for the meal on his tab, takes your hand in his and leads you back down to floor one until you’re out of the building and back inside your window-tinted g-wagon.

mister braun is big. you’ve always known it from his appearance alone, but fuck, it holds a much greater meaning when he’s got you tucked into the backseat of your mercedes with his slacks pulled down to his ankles and your dress strewn sideways, making a slow attempt to press himself into you.

“fuck. let me in, princess,” reiner’s grunt is low, throaty enough to make you clench. your flesh feels hot and your pussy’s leaking all over the coffee-brown suede seats. he knows well enough to play around with your clit, reveling in the noises you make when his pressure increases. simultaneously, his lips suction at the smooth flesh of your neck. it feels like you’re burning up, and he’s the only one who can quench your fire.

experimentally, his hips tilt forward, and another two inches make its way in. he’s only got his fat tip and then some past that dripping hole of yours, but it’ll take much more to stretch you wide open for him. he’s groaning and muttering all sorts of profanities— about how tight you are, how good you feel, how fucking nasty this is of you.

“c’mon, woman,” reiner sucks a sharp breath into his lungs, goading you on, “lemme fuck this tight pussy.” he’s got you dangerously aroused, done by the effort of a few dirty words. wetness dribbles down from your slit to the place you and reiner carnally join, slicking up his girthy shaft as he continues to break himself past your tight rings of muscle. you claw at his solid arms, basking in the stretch. his size is imposing, forcing you open to accommodate all of him. it burns in the best way possible.

“m—more, papa,” you make out a pretty whine, knowing just how he loves your begging. you’ve got your lips agape, kissed raw from reiner’s earlier advances. you grow restless and begin to rock your hips, aching to take the entirety of him.

“mm, don’t worry, baby. i’ll give it to you so good,” it takes a little more of reiner bucking his pelvis, movements careful and shallow, for him to finally make it in. he’s bottomed out, and you can feel the throbbing from his underside. having you wrapped around him feels so incredibly right. you clench rapidly, enveloping him in an incomparable warmth.

by the time he’s made everything fit, you’re a darling little mess. your hair’s gotten frizzy and your eyes are all big ‘n glassy, with your lower lip tucked underneath your teeth. one moan after another escapes you, streaming into his ears like liquid gold. reiner throbs at the sound of every little mewl. he licks away your tears which you hadn’t even known began to fall, catching them before they can roll down the apples of your cheeks. you love the feeling, it’s just that there’s so much of him to handle at once— his fat cock, searing-hot tongue, large roaming hands . . . he's this close to consuming you whole, and you want him to.

reiner’s attentive with the way he fucks you. out, in, the pattern goes, hips drawing back before he slams back into your shaking frame all over again. he hits so unbelievably deep every time, like the width of him can’t help but prod against every spot you have. he manages to stimulate every inch of your walls, bumping every crook and ridge possible. not a part of you goes unattended to. reiner dips his head low to catch your beaded nipple between his lips, while his cock drives further inside and impels you to make more room, just for him.

as gentle as he may try to be, reiner’s undeniably a hefty man. taking it slow won’t make any difference; every deep plunge he makes into your cunt has the car creaking on its very own wheels.

“i fuckin’ love you,” he drops the heated words, punctuated with drilling thrusts; but the dick’s got you goin’ all dumb on him. it’s cute, he can’t deny, but reiner needs you to know exactly what you mean to him. so he grips at your chin from either side and lightly squeezes your cheeks together, tender with care but steady enough to make your eyes uncross and focus on him alone.

“you hear me? i— goddamnit, love you more than anything. love you so much,” the deeper he pushes in, the less you can manage to breathe. you feel the pulsing of his cock in your tummy, and it’s like the tip snags so deep that it nearly lingers in your throat. you feel yourself bounce against the seat, tits jiggling whenever he sinks inside, draws out, and snaps right back into you. your gut feels tightly wound up, and your pussy’s become impossibly more sensitive.

you’re close, he can feel it. your walls flutter with more ardor than before, squishing against the base of him with a tightness gratifying enough to spur moans from deep within his chest. you even bring your hands down to claw at his asscheeks, firm and round to the touch; the perfect source of leverage.

“r— reiner!” you cry out to him, and he’s sure his name hasn’t sounded so good up until now. he wonders if you can actually hear yourself and just how slutty you sound. “you’re close, aren’t you, baby?” to that you nod, head bobbing desperately. you don’t have to tell him, he knows. reiner’s knowledge is keen on the topic of you. what you like, what you don’t, and when you’ve had enough. now he’s truly taking his sweet time getting to know you from the inside out.

he presses a consoling peck to your forehead, maintaining that undoing pace of his. the repetitive ‘plat’ of his heavy balls smacking into your sticky cunt is dull compared to the huffing, panting and whining, but it’s there in all its vulgarity.

“ooh, i know exactly what y’need, princess. papa’s g’na take care of you . . . ” reiner doesn’t even say it above a whisper, just declares his devotion in the softest way he can. he slips a hand down the middle of your sweat-streaked bodies to bring some attention back to your precious clit, lewdly slick and much puffier than earlier. he gives swift strokes using the pads of his fingers, combined with the fluid roll of his hips, until you're arching into his broad chest and snapping your quivering thighs closed, trapping his wrist in between them.

reiner can unravel you with such ease, like he lives for the sole purpose of your pleasure and nothing else. you convulse against him, so he slows. but reiner hardly lets up. not completely, that way he’s able to ride you through it. he continues on, feeding you shallow thrusts to near his own high. his movements turn borderline erratic; thighs trembling, cock throbbing. he’s so close, “gonna cum,” his warning comes off as a groan, straight from the depths of his gut, erotic and primal. he’s clenching his teeth again— this time, for good reason. “where do y’want me?”

not a second is wasted before you plead, ‘ inside! ’ and with that, you’ve officially fucking broken him. never did he think his wildest dream would’ve come true by the very first date. lucky mister braun, getting to fill you up— especially when it’s what he’s been stroking himself to the thought of every other night. now, you’re practically crying for him to give it all to you. undoubtedly, he will.

he comes through one final, sloppy jerk of his hips. with a breathy grunt released into the car’s stuffy atmosphere , his warm seed spurts into you, tainting your womb. once reiner slips out, his thick cum pours down to present the most obscene view. it’s all so slippery, seeping down until there’s a wet puddle of your and his making beneath your ass. reiner’s body goes lax, thoughtfully balancing himself over you with his face propped onto your boobs. it’s only now that he realizes, legs cramped up, that he’s a bit too large for the backseat.

“ . . . i meant what i said earlier.” reiner’s voice comes off muffled, with his face stuffed between your tits and all. he looks adorable this way, gazing up at you with his lips curled into a slight pout. his arms loop your waist, snug and secure.

“mm, you said a lot of things earlier,” is your soft laugh, recalling his crude mouth and how worked up it made you. he allows you to rake your nails through his short blonde fringes.

“applying for this gig is the best thing that’s ever fuckin’ happened to me,” reiner makes an attempt to sit upright and show his conviction, but he ends up with his back hunched over in the restrictive space. he disregards his comfort and reaches for your hands, clasping them in his own. “i said that i love you . . . and i mean it.” his words are airy. he’s still winded from the sex.

“and i love you,” you mean it, too. with all your being. you love him in a way you've never loved anybody else. mister braun keeps you safe, sprinkles you with compliments, slips on your heels for you, puts you first. he makes you feel like this pairing has a chance, like you don’t have to hide it. besides, he deserves your all. you should be proud to call him yours, and that you are.

reiner always wants your kisses. in the morning when you wake, right before dinner, and as you’ve recently discovered, after sex too. you’re always eager to receive his lips pressed to yours. “i love you,” reiner adds in between pecks. he now says it like it’s second nature— he loves you. it makes your heart leap from beneath your chest. he kneads your bare thighs in his palms, slowly gliding his tongue into your mouth. without shame, you moan against his lips. slivers of spit tether you both even after you part.

“i want everyone to know that we belong to each other, reiner . . . my family, too.” you admit, peering up at his handsome face through your curled lashes. you’ve got your hands planted at his chest, feeling at the solidity of his pecs.

“tonight?” he asks, tone unsure.

“yes, tonight, rei!”

he adores your sudden zeal for honesty. he truly does, but—

“maybe another day would work better, princess,” reiner muses, “when your parents wouldn’t kill me for all those hickeys on your neck.”

©PINKMIRTH! . . . all rights reserved! do not steal, plagiarize or repost any of my works. please and thank you! ୨୧

[rainydayathogwarts]

Two sides, one door - Remus Lupin

summary: potter!reader going to james after remus yells at her the day before a full moon. 1.1k wc cw: angsty, full moon rem, bleeding knuckles (from remus punching a mirror), basically therapist james potter!reader x remus secret relationship au! find more here

The knock on the door is soft, and has James straightening up in his bed. It's too soft for him to recognise the person knocking on the other side of the door, so he sticks his head out of the closed curtain of his four poster bed. He calls out for whoever is on the other side to come in, and the door slowly creaks open. "James?" You ask, making sure it's your brother in the dorm and not Sirius. James hears the tremble in your quiet voice, and immediately, he's out of bed, worry engulfing him. The movement catches your eye, and you spin to face your brother, watching as he take long strides towards you. You let him cup your cheeks to take a good look at your face, eyebrows furrowing in distress. Your cheeks are tear-stained, eyes red and glassy, mascara muddy under your eyes from where you'd wiped the tears away.

James envelops you in a tight hug which you accept without protest, weakly wrapping your arms around him as fresh tears fill your eyes. You begin sniffling, and James guides you to his bed, sitting you down next to him. He lets you fall into his chest, sobs wracking your chest, and he holds you gently, offering you as much comfort as possible. "Remus is mad at me." You finally tell him, sniffling between each word, hands coming up to aggressively wipe at your wet cheeks. James frowns, glancing up at this month's moon phase calendar hung up on the back of the dorm door to confirm his immediate suspicion. The full moon is tomorrow. "Why would he be mad at you?" James asks, and you hiccup, shrugging your shoulders. "I don't know he just yelled at me." Tears begin flowing freely, and you move across the bed away from James to lean back against the headboard, bringing your knees up to your chest.

James joins you, ensuring the curtain around his bed is securely closed. James glances at you, leaning your chin on your folded arms, and he sighs. He knows that he made a vow to beat Remus up if he ever hurt you, but he knows if he tried right now, he would be the one getting the beating. Beside, the last thing Remus needed right now was a scolding from James. Knowing the boy, he was probably already beating himself over raising his voice at you. "He didn't..." James huffed, trying to find his wording "He didn't lay a finger on you, did he?" James watched as you shook your head frantically, looking at him with betrayal. "That's not Remus, James! You should know!" James nodded, whispering calmly "I know, I know. I'm just making sure." James wrapped an arm over your shoulders, tugging you closer to him. You let him hold you for a while, a comfortable silence settling over you apart from the occasional sniffle from your side.

Suddenly, the door to the dorm slammed open and close, causing both you and James to jump. You weren't able to react before another door opened and shut - the bathroom. James opened the curtain around his bed nearest to the bathroom, eyeing the door suspiciously. Loud rustling could be heard from the other side of the door before something shattered and a loud "Fuck!" Was heard. Remus. You straightened up, worry overtaking your features. "Such a fucking asshole!" The words were muffled behind the door, but they were still perfectly decipherable.

The room fell silent before more sounds were heard from the bathroom — sobs. You stood up, but James put a hand up, stopping you from going anywhere. "Just, stay here." He mumbled, walking over to the bathroom door. Knocking twice, James called out "Rem? Open up, mate." A few seconds passed before the bathroom door slowly opened. A long silence ensued. You tried glancing at your boyfriend, but your view of him was blocked by the door. "Oh Remus." James mumbled, looking at the other boy with compassion. "James I'm so sorry." Remus sobbed quietly. You felt your eyes tearing up at the sound of your boyfriend's struggle, crossing your arms over your chest as he hiccuped. "I yelled at her and she started fucking crying and I didn't mean to and - I'm just such a fucking asshole." James cocked his head towards you, muttering "Well say that to her. I'm not the one crying."

James nodded, a response to a gesture you hadn't seen Remus make, stepping out of the way so that Remus could walk out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. You gasped when you saw him, arms falling by your side. Remus's knuckles were bleeding, shards of glass sticking to the blood on his skin. "Remus." He stepped towards you, eyes red and cheeks wet from crying. "Darling, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to yell I'm just, I just-" Sobs interrupted his words, and you stepped closer to your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around him. He immediately responded, arms loosely hanging around your waist, head digging into the crook of your neck. "The full moon's tomorrow." He said, and your eyes widened in realisation. "I know it's not an excuse but-" "Remus, it's okay," You sniffled" It's okay sweetheart. Let me take care of your hand, yeah?" You felt Remus nod, separating from the hug.

Glancing at James, you wiped your eyes one last time, stepping into their bathroom to fetch their first aid kit. You avoided the glass on the floor, returning to Remus, who sat on his bed, before sitting in front of him. "You lovebirds going to be okay?" James asked, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. Locking eyes with Remus, you both nodded. James reciprocated the movement, opening his mouth before promptly shutting it and walking out of the dorm without uttering another word. You felt a hand on your cheek, and looked up to meet Remus's eyes once more. He leaned in close, softly kissing your lips before dropping his hand back down and letting you get back to treating his cuts.

"I'm sorry." He repeated, quieter now, showing you how ashamed he was of his actions. "I love you so much." Securing the bandages around Remus's knuckles, you looked up, telling him "I love you too." You stood up, brushing strands of hair out of his eyes. "You should go to sleep. Wake up tomorrow with some energy." Remus hesitated to reply, nodding instead. You leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, muttering "Everything's okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

[naffeclipse]

Charm Brought It Back Pt. 5

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

Ah, here we are! The last chapter in the Hocus Pocus AU by @jackofallrabbits and me! Once more, I'm honored and thrilled to have @deliasmilkshake's cover art for the finale! I can't say how grateful I am for everyone's support and lovely comments on this little series! There's a wedding to attend, so let's get to it <3

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, and heavy touching.

———

The coolness of the woody air, cut away from the hot and claustrophobic space of the crowded gymnasium overflowing with celebration, brushes over your skin. Half-bare in your ruined sweater, you shiver. Eclipse eases you with a soft sound. His fingertips slip under your sweater and trace over your back to soothe the goosebumps prickling your flesh. Leaning deeper into him, you clutch him tightly in your arms.

You’ve never held someone so close before.

If you don’t open your eyes now, you’ll never believe this is real. The witches. The curses. The ceremony. All of it will be a dream on one cold October night while you lie in bed alone.

So you do. Little by little, you lift your cheek from his chest and tilt your head back, and behold the unnatural man, come back from the dead, who awaits your vows. His eyes glimmer gently in rich golden hues. The sharp cuts of his sun rays remind you of the encroaching sunrise, and you realize the sky is losing its stars as the black dillutes into a dawn of dark gray.

“We will have the ceremony here.” Eclipse inclines his head around you. “It may be simple, but it is only for the time being. When there is no urgency, we will celebrate properly with food and wine and the most beautiful altar. It will be to your heart’s desire, little comet.”

You look around to find what he describes as simple, and balk softly. You are not in the high school gym set in town but a clearing filled with half-dead vines twisting around the bare ground set amid shadowy trees with whispering boughs and the last of autumn’s leaves. The starlight barely reaches you. Dozens of round, orange pumpkins litter the ground around your feet. In the center of the pumpkin patch is a beautiful black wood tree with thick, bark-cracked limbs reaching high with a canopy of bright red and yellow leaves to serve as your altar. 

Behind you, smoke not unlike from the party Eclipse just whisked you away from swirls and recedes further back into the cold night, unveiling Sun and Moon. They stand tall and expectant, their hands filled with silvery threads like spider gossamer and the veil of a bride. Sun’s yellow sun rays catch your eyes like a peacock fanning its tail. Moon’s hood lays quietly over his head and casts a calm shadow over the scarlet of his eyes. The weight of their gazes fall over you.

They are here for you too. The twitch in your limbs answers to the anticipation overflowing from your core.

You breathe in deeply. There are two people missing. Turning back to Eclipse, your lips poised to ask about your friends and how the brothers might intend to shuck their curses from them, when the smoke behind Sun and Moon continues to dissolve before it reveals just the ones heavy on your mind. 

Michael and Vanessa. 

Confusion crosses Michael’s undead face. Purple flesh upon his brow shoots up in alarm before his gaze finds you in the arms of the eldest witch. At his feet, the white rabbit raises her ears high. Vanessa’s green eyes pierce you with alarm and fright most unspeakable. 

Your heart aches at the sight of them so drenched in dark magic. Reaching out a hand in a placating motion, you start to call out to them.

“Don’t!” Michael shouts overrules yours, as fierce and protective as he has been all through the night. He charges forward. “Get away from—”

Magic spills from Sun’s and Moon’s lips in a twining harmony. Their gazes are steel while their voices lift and multiply, filling the air with gales of hot and cold air before the old leaves on the pumpkin vines shudder. Creaking and crawling across the dirt, the dark green tendrils come to life and snatch Michael’s ankles, stopping him short as he struggles to remain balanced. 

Vanessa bounds towards you. Her small body leaps over pumpkins and scurries around snares of pumpkin tendrils. She dodges a snaring vine before a second, hidden one snatches her, twisting her small little form into its clutches and holding her a few inches above the ground. Her feet kick out. Her entire body struggles as she tries violently to free herself but to no avail.

“Don’t hurt them.” You clutch Eclipse’s cloak until your knuckles turn white. Pleading with your entire being, you find his gaze. “Please. They’re my friends.”

A dryness infiltrates your mouth. Will they be better than what the villagers and witch hunters feared them to be? Can you ask them to be good for you? Your core burns with yearning, the hope of a brighter day filled with peace and joy, not more darkness. Not more pain and fear.

You don’t want to lose them.

Eclipse gently covers your fists and soothes them out until your palms relax against his chest.

“They won’t be harmed,” Eclipse nods towards his brothers. His sonorous voice lowers. “Sun and Moon understand your conditions. We have brought your friends here to give you our gifts, and to ensure there are no more interruptions.”

You nod shakily. A feeble tremble lingers throughout you, raking through your fingers and along your jawline. Your witch suitors have proven again and again their capabilities for wickedness and they continue to chase it through the midnight hours, but not here. They stand still, at your service. How they terrify you. How they enchant you.

Every single night you dreamt of someone to love, someone who would keep you warm and chase away the loneliness. 

Have you found them or are you a love-sick fool still reaching for something that is not yours? 

“Run, get away from here!” Michael struggles against the vines rooting him in place. Leaves twine tighter around his corpse-like body, forcing him to his knees and leaving him bound from his ankles all the way to his shoulders, wrapped up like a cruel gift.

One glower from Sun sends one last pumpkin vine around Michael’s flesh-rotten mouth and gags him.

Vanessa twists and writhes. Her small rabbit body struggles in the grasp of the vine snare and she sinks her teeth into it, attempting to chew through the restraint while her wide, desperate eyes flash to you.

“It’s okay,” you say softly. “Stop struggling. It’s going to be okay. Please, trust me.”

Michael stops fighting. A fear and anger so raw fills his gaze as Sun and Moon step after you. His fists clench as his jawbone wiggles, but his muffle words die behind the vine covering his teeth.

A strong sound jumps from Vanessa, caught between an animalistic cry and a human sob. She looks at you. Her wide eyes shine with dread.

Eclipse takes you by the shoulders, his eyes burning low as he turns you away from the fear of your friends. You keep your eyes on both of them.

“It’s okay,” you whisper again.

“Come, come, little comet.” Eclipse recaptures your attention with a finger hooking under your chin. “The hour is nigh. Sunrise is too near for us to wait any longer.”

“I know.” Your pulse swells in your ears, beating within you like a drum to a dance that’s too fast-paced for your feet to keep up with.

Your eyes stray from his somber expression to the black tree. Between the red and yellow leaves are dozens of spiderwebs, glimmering softly like silk streamers just for the ceremony. Gently, Eclipse releases you to stand back as Sun and Moon slip around you from both sides. 

“My poppet,” Sun’s voice is sensual and warm. “Allow me to dress you in spider gossamer for this fine occasion.”

You slowly dip your head, all too confused but too uncertain to stop him as he draws out threads of silvery silk. He gently lays them upon your shoulders. His pale eyes swim with passion. A gentle murmur of magic flows from his lips, and you become enveloped in a light and cool cascade of fabric softer than rain and lighter than feathers. You look down at yourself. 

Catching the fading shimmer of magic, you are now draped in an elegant but simple silver gown. A high neck collars you with big, flowing sleeves which cinch at your wrists with thick embroidery. The skirt falls in an A-shape and flows softly in the gentle wind of the night around your feet, almost brushing the dirt.

Your wedding attire. You touch the skirt with a delicate hand as if it may fall apart like a cobweb brushed away, but instead, you watch in silent marvel at the rippling, silk-like glimmer of the cloth.

Strangely, Sun possesses your clothes in his arms now. Your mind spins with questions but you are learning all too well that the answer is magic. With a smirk, he tosses aside the holey sweater and your dirt-stained jeans. The clothes land on the shell of a large, orange pumpkin.

“Beautiful,” Sun lowers his head in pleasure, his hand at his chest and his other arm held out in a formal bow to you. “Never was there a more lovely bride for three brothers.”

You blush fiercely. 

“It is beautiful,” you admit, clutching a fistful of the skirt. You lift it and wave it back and forth once to watch it glimmer again.

“I’m not speaking of the dress, sunshine.” Sun straightens with a grin so devious, you must wonder again if you’re giving up your soul in such a ceremony.

A cool touch falls upon your hand. Claws curl carefully over your wrist. Dropping the skirt, you twist upon your feet to face Moon.

“A veil for you.” He holds it in his other hand. The delicate and sheer gossamer flows like silver water. “Lower your head. I will crown you in it.”

You bow slightly. Moon sweeps your hair back with his cool, careful fingertips and pins the veil upon your skull like a tiara. The soft, celestial fabric falls down around you. Blinking, you stare in awe at yourself, shrouded in majestic silver. 

Moon gazes at you softly. His eyes fall from your hair and he reclaims your palm for a moment to behold you entirely.

“Exquisite.” He bows his head over your hand. “I dreamt of you since Eclipse first told us what he found in his bone scrying. I have waited for you all this time, my snowflower.”

A tremble falls over your bottom lip—not of fear, though there is still an anxious sparking within your nerves. You are washed away in his sincerity. The true intentions of a lover.

You have no words, and instead, gently squeeze his hand.

“May I add one last touch,” Eclipse says. He steps forward.

You lift your head to him as his gaze glows gently in the darkness like twin stars which circle you as his brothers step back. Eclipse sets his hand on your shoulder. Your breath slows as his touch traces your collarbone and falls down your side. You almost sway under his hand holding your hip before he sinks onto one knee to trail his palm along your thigh and all the way to your calf, touching your gown all the way down.

He speaks a gentle spell. You dare not move an inch as a gentle pulse, milky and starlight-like, falls over the cloth. You burn in the darkness like a candle. The gown stands out against the darkness like a comet streaking through the night sky.

“Oh,” is all you can say as you look down at yourself. There are no words which can contain the magnitude of what you feel towards the beauty and thought of their wedding attire for you. Though Sun, Moon, and Eclipse spark and snap like flames with their wide eyes and tall statures, you twinkle bright.

Emotion cakes your throat. Thickly, you swallow it back. 

“A little starlight.” Eclipse smiles, his eyes burning sweetly. “For you are our equal, our partner, our bride.”

You don’t feel powerful. You don’t feel important enough to be involved in magic and ceremonies and love, yet here you stand, swathed in their adoration and gifts. You take hold of your skirt once more.

“Let us begin the ceremony,” Eclipse says softly. He takes your elbow and arm in arm, he walks you through a footpath worn through the pumpkin patch to the black tree, gnarled but beautiful. A most befitting altar. 

Taking your other arm is Sun, sliding close to you with a simmering smile so close to you, you wonder if the slight heat brushing against your cheek is from his presence or the blood rush in your face. Behind you, like a pale shadow, Moon tenderly takes your skirt and follows close behind, keeping the beautiful fabric from gathering dust and pumpkin fronds.

And so you go to your wedding altar.

In times before, marriage served to form alliances between families. Parents arranged such contracts for children to benefit both parties. Most couples didn’t and couldn’t marry for love, rather they were bound for purely economic liaisons.

How beautiful is it that you could arrange yourself into a marriage most lovely?

Your grooms stop at the black tree. Eclipse slips away from your hand, and you look to him in confusion, fearing where he might wander away to. The elder witch grins as he simply looks at his brother. Sun’s hand lingers on your arm, trailing down to your wrist before he steps back, still beaming, still eager, but patient.

You turn slowly under the dusting of moonlight to face Moon. A swell rises in your heart, crashing through you until you’re sticky with emotion. His expression is soft and sweet like milk and honey. He gathers your hands between his own. Looking down, Moon draws the pads of his thumbs softly over your knuckles as if wishing to memorize the bone structure of your much smaller hands.

There is no time at all, but you keep the quiet with him, studying his mild countenance. His breaths are deep and even. A gentle scent of something late and herbal laces him, and you’re taken back to the mausoleum where he tasted you.

His eyes lift. The scarlet gleam holds you tender.

“Do you take me to be your husband?” His voice is gentle in its rasp. His eyes never leave you, drinking you in like wine. “My love is yours, for time and all eternity. I will honor you dearly, little mouse.”

A soft sound catches in your throat, somewhere between a chuckle and a weeping sound. You thought joy would be without tears, but you stand, clutching his claws tightly in your fists to steady yourself.

“I do.” The moonlight brightens as the words leave your lips. You watch in silent awe as the silver glow of the night dances over you both, and you taste midnight upon your tongue as Moon smiles.

He carefully takes your veil and lifts it over your head, allowing the silver threads to fall down your back. He leans in gently. In the way the tide is tugged by the lunar celestial body, you meet him in the small space between your bodies. The witch’s kiss presses to your mouth in a gentle yearning, pushing and pulling so long as you follow in time. You fall into him. Deepening the kiss, Moon cradles your lips against the white curve of his fangs. You sigh contently as you lose your breath in his presence, starstruck.

He releases you, though only your mouth. His hands clasp yours tightly and he softly caresses the back of your hands. Tied along his wrists are deep blue ribbons. Bells jangle softly underneath.

“I will keep you unto me forevermore.” Moon traces your digits with his claw. The soft glow of his gaze fills you with his sincerity.

You sink into his words like a pool of silver. You nod deeply.

“I will cherish you,” you promise in a trembling, choked voice. The power of the engagement drapes over you, pressing upon you the great importance of this entanglement.

“Breathe, little mouse.” He smiles. “I will keep you safe.”

You laugh quietly, too overwhelmed for words but your happiness seeps through all the same.

He kisses you once more before he lifts his head high. Following his gaze, you find Vanessa has stopped fighting. Her little rabbit nose twitches fast, afraid.

Moon offers a spell, deep and cool but releasing. His voice overlaps. A scent of sharp, pungent herbs swirls on the night breeze before he nods his head once more. Your old clothes fly off of the pumpkin they were resting on, and fall onto Vanessa still tangled in the pumpkin vines. 

A moment later, in a shrouded flash of light, vines snap and clothes stretch, and there is a woman where there was once a rabbit.

Vanessa, thankfully, wears your sweater and jeans. Her green eyes fit much better in her human face as she kneels upon the ground and lifts her hands. Long blonde hair falls down around her shoulders. Slowly, she turns over her palm and clenches her fingers. No longer trapped, she gazes up at you.

Shock shines in her eyes, but her lips form soft awe.

“Vanessa,” you smile breathlessly. Whirling back, you kiss Moon once to his slight shock. “Thank you.”

“I will answer to your every desire,” he murmurs, then releases you. 

Moon slips back from you. Before you can think of reaching for him, Sun takes you into his arms. You gasp softly at the warmth of his embrace surrounding you like you were basking near an open fire.

“Sunshine, I was beginning to fear you’ve forgotten about me.” He takes you carefully, slipping your feet onto his as he begins to spin you slowly, like a star tailspinning through the atmosphere. “You could never, could you? Not when I still vye for your kiss—and now, your vows returned.”

You hold onto his shoulders. Carefully underneath the gnarled limbs of the black tree, Sun waltzes you to an unsung song. He hums slowly with a gentle rumble in his chest. His eyes upon you are hungry in the way a candle flame clings to a wick, desperate to devour but unable to spread like a wildfire. 

“No, I couldn’t forget you, Sun,” you whisper. He has left you dizzy and stunned, racing with you upon his broom and then pinning you underneath him upon a bed. There is too much you marvel about him to forget.

He twirls you gently, the moonlight blurring around you between earth and sky before he recaptures you. The threat of dawn seems so close and yet so far away from this wild pumpkin patch.

“That is all I can ask, though you must know, I want more of you.” His grin is wide but honest. How could you expect anything less from the one who has coveted you so zealously? 

His hand rests on the small of your back. Pulling you flush against him, he holds you for one breathless moment, caught like two figurines in the apex of a lovers’ dance. 

“Do you take me to be your husband?” His voice is steady, without flirtations or sultry suggestions. An honest question from a witch. “You have simply enchanted me, dove. I am at your mercy. I am at your service. And if you will, your bedside, your mornings, and your sunsets.”

Your eyelids flutter. A gentle push of tears make their way past your eyes, and you hold his wide, pale gaze. He searches your face with held breath. He clutches your hand and presses it to his chest, bared open to you. The bells tied to the dark red ribbons on his wrists jingle softly. 

“I do.” You speak with the gentleness of certainty. The leaves overhead ruffle with a breeze that is far more fitting for summer than an incoming winter. Pressed so close, you fear he must know how your heart trembles in the wonder of knowing that he loves you, and you love him. 

His expression erupts in sheer, unadulterated joy. He spins you once more, dancing as if he were walking on air before he dips you low. You intake a deep breath as he holds you above the pumpkin patch. His grin fills your entire vision as his fingers press softly into your dress. He wastes not a moment to crush your mouth in a kiss. 

His hunger and eagerness leaves you breathless as he takes and takes before he gives just as much in return. You are captured within his affection. He is smooth and practiced, and you almost feel self conscious, but gently, he leads you. He guides your lips and teases you with his teeth. Even his tongue brushes the inside of your mouth before he softens it to a trickle after the flood of his expression. You taste a sweetness that slips down your throat like honey.

Gently, he brings you back up on your feet, though he does not release you. He kisses you again, greedily taking more. You are putty in his hands, molded by his mouth as if you were a honeycomb caught between teeth. 

“Sunny,” Eclipse murmurs once in gentle warning.

Sun draws back reluctantly as if being torn from water after days in the desert. You gasp softly, your shoulders rising and falling after the rush of his love. 

“I have devoted myself to you, my poppet,” he whispers into your ear as you rest against his chest. “My love is yours and yours alone.”

“Oh, Sun,” you clutch his shoulders tighter. “I will adore you for the rest of my days.”

“I know, sunshine.” He grins but softly kisses your cheek once in a strangely rare but precious, chaste gesture. “But I must share you or else I will keep you all night.”

He straightens, his arms still encircling you. Pale eyes sweep back and you eagerly look at Michael. He’s stopped fighting as well, no longer thrashing but watching with a strange, conflicted crinkle of his brow. Vanessa kneels close by, unmoving, still staring at her legs and arms and touching her hair. 

Your entire body aches for Michael. The curse stains his flesh and twists him into a silver-screen monster. 

Sun breathes a spell. His voice fills the air in unearthly chants that sweep over the ground and whirl the leaves on the pumpkin vines. They slowly crawl back, releasing Michael just as the same bright flash of energy and power takes hold of your dear friend.

The purple corpse recedes back and unveils the man underneath. Michael’s hair returns to its warmer shade of brown. His eyes blink and his corenas return white while his irises take hold with light and life. Rotten flesh returns to a rich tan color. His torn clothes refill with his healthy size and strength. 

He clenches and unclenches his fists. Slowly, he stumbles forward. Vanessa helps catch him before he folds entirely after being freed from the witches’ curse. 

You startle—is his leg still broken? Vanessa, however, stabilizes Michael, coaxing him to sit beside her. He folds his legs with natural ease—healed and whole.

“Michael, you’re alright,” you breathe, clutching Sun together.

He gives you a nod though in a slight daze. He opens his mouth but then decides against whatever he was going to say.

“Thank you.” You turn to Sun. “Thank you for sparing him.”

“Anything for our bride,” he simpers. With a great sigh, however, he lets go of you, his fingertips trailing over your sides before falling back beside Moon.

Under the black tree, Eclipse stands, patient but enduring.

You face him. He lifts his head but remains humble and composed before gently approaching. The light of a new day is beginning to change from deep gray to a burning orange leaking rosy pink at the edges. The sunrise is as terrifying as it is promising.

Eclipse opens his arms to you. Without hesitation, you enter his embrace as his hand finds your cheek. Tied tight around his wrist is a black ribbon with golden bells. His claws rest delicately on your hip over the silky soft fabric of your gown. Lightly, his thumb caresses your cheek. The gold of his gaze falls over you, gentle as the night. 

“Little comet,” he says, steady despite the impending light threatening to take away all. Yet, he takes his time, tasting his words before giving them to you. “Do you take me to be your husband? I have waited—”

In a heart rush, you utter, “I do.”

Eclipse stares, eyes wide. His red sun rays catch the first glance of daylight, brightening his vision as if a spotlight fell upon him. He looks towards the horizon as you do. You squint slightly against the brightness.

Lifting his hand from your face, he watches the black ribbon and bells dissolve into dark smoke, then nothing. Sun and Moon turn their wrists as the respectful dark red and deep blue ribbons fall away from them as if burned and leave not a wisp behind. 

You take Eclipse’s hand and draw it closer to you, gently kissing his knuckles before smiling.

“You’re free. You’re all free.” You flush deeply as you look to Sun and Moon and their gazes of content awe. “My husbands.”

A soft, strange sound leaves Eclipse. A breath caught between wonder and something deeper, something roiling with adoration. His gaze falls back to you, and again, he touches your cheek. 

“I did not finish my vows to you.” He cradles your face close in his palms, leaning closer as your eyes lock. “I swear to you happiness, protection, and my unending love. From this day on, you will always be warm. You will always have my hand to hold. You will never fear the darkness for I will be with you.”

He pauses, his grin spreading wide. He looks at you as if you were a dream. A living, breathing vision. 

“We are eternally bound to you, our spouse.” Eclipse leans in close. “Say my name, once more.”

Your eyelids slip close for one precious moment, warmed by the brilliant light, and the touch of Eclipse’s hands cradling you as if you were delicate. 

“Eclipse,” you whisper.

His grin is beautiful and lovely. You start as you feel a second pair of arms surround you. Sweeping you off your feet, Eclipse lifts you into his embrace. This close, he smells of gentle spice and musk. 

He strokes your cheek once before closing the distance between your lips. You feel his hunger in the echo of your own—the want to devour but gently, he tastes you. A soft whine catches in the back of your throat. Melting under his warmth, he invades you gently and his tongue brushes against your own. His kiss takes you under, and you drop breathlessly into his grasp.

He pulls and takes in soft, sweet motions. Rhythmic and powerful, he tastes you until you fear you might fall once more. But he will catch you. This much you are certain.

He pulls back gently, kissing you one last time as if in need of the strength it gives him, before his honeyed gaze settles on you.

“Your freckles are beautiful, like the stars upon the night sky,” he says. He kisses the right side of your face, then glides to the left and lingers there a moment. “You are truly staying with us, my little comet.”

You blush, and cling to him. Your hands, however, are gently tugged. You look away from Eclipse to find Moon curling his claws under your digits and lifting your hand sweetly to his mouth. Eclipse shifts you gently in his arms to rest you against his back while keeping you cradled like a bride on her wedding night—you suppose you are such a bride, Sun’s hand traces from your shoulder down your arm until he captures your hand. There, he kisses your knuckles slowly. You close your eyes, bubbling in the blissful sunlight as your husbands adore you.

A kiss like the brush of a moth wing touches your head. Eclipse hums gently against you. You make a soft, sweet sound at their tender affection.

“My husbands,” you say, then laugh a little, beaming at their gentle looks. “I’m going to have to get used to saying that.”

“You will,” Sun purrs, “And there’s so much time for us to grow used to our lovely spouse.”

“So much time,” Moon rasps gently, “You must be exhausted.” He kisses your fingertips until you shiver and blush.

“Perhaps we should take our bride home,” Eclipse suggests gently. “You can sleep in our bed and rest, and when you wake, we’ll celebrate more.”

You stir at the thought. You won’t drive back to your tiny apartment. No, instead you will stay here with your husbands, and the bed you will sleep in will be warm and filled with their bodies. 

You won’t wake up alone.

“I’d like that.” You squeeze Sun’s and Moon’s hands and turn your head back to gaze at Eclipse with a fond smile.

A quiet voice says your name. You turn your head, stunned to find Michael and Vanessa stepping towards you. Vanessa supports Michael’s arm around her shoulders as his strength seems to wane. Their eyes are mirrors of witch hunters from long ago as they behold the brothers holding their virgin bride.

Claws tighten around you. Moon flashes his sharp teeth as Sun lifts his chin high, looking down at the pair with disdain. The arms holding you off the ground squeeze in the slightest until you wriggle. Eclipse nearly keeps you away, but gingerly, he sets you back on your feet.

Michael holds your gaze, his brow crinkled in concern but restored to his natural health. 

“Are you really staying with them?” he asks quietly, his gaze darting sharply to the witches.

You smile at the slight shifting around you. The drape of Moon’s cloak almost falls over your shoulder as he takes your hand close and caresses your arm. A murmur of wishing to return them both to rabbits falls from Sun’s lips, but he merely interlocks his digits between your own. Behind you, Eclipse draws a tender hand down your back, feeling the ridges of your spine through the delicate fabric of your gown. 

“I love them.” You look at your husbands. Their faces brighten, their touches softening upon you. “I’m staying.”

“What do we do now?” Vanessa asks. Her face looks lost, and you imagined after a few centuries of only guarding the starry candle, she must be. 

You muse for a moment, and survey your husbands with a careful air. “Is your home now my home?”

“Of course,” Eclipse answers without hesitation. “Everything that is ours is yours.”

“Then I may invite my friends inside?”

Sun and Moon exchange a glance, Sun more annoyed than Moon’s mild surprise, but they both incline their heads.

“If that is your wish,” Moon gives gently.

“It is.” You squeeze their palms. “We can start a proper home, and we can learn how to forgive.”

“Forgive?” Vanessa balks. 

“Yes.” You look at her as the bright light of day touches her face. Her eyes are truly green and sharp like cut emeralds. “Let’s get out of this pumpkin patch and go home and rest. Then we can make peace.”

Michael looks down at Vanessa. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, unlike my ancestor.” His brow is set firm. To your awe, Michael does not tremble with rage or the need to fight again. Perhaps the witches are beginning to prove themselves, and Michael will give them a chance. Just one chance.

“Very well then, my poppet.” Sun turns to you and kisses you in a sudden burst of heat and passion before he releases you. Stunned, you almost sway but Eclipse wraps an arm around your waist. Sun gestures with his free arm in an open invitation. “Enter our humble abode. You are our spouse’s guests, which means you are ours.”

Vanessa glares at him. Her foot falls down on a withered vine and it cracks. 

“Charming as ever, Vanessa.” Sun flashes his teeth in a grin.

“Sun,” you chastise. 

He rubs your wrist, half apologetic. 

“I will make soup.” Moon muses. “My cauldron pot is where I left it, I hope.”

The heaviness in the air reminds you that the night has been long, and you are dreadfully exhausted. Vanessa and Michael barely hold themselves upright, but they lean on each other.

“Excellent.” Eclipse waves his hand. Smoke seeps up from the ground, swirling around your feet before you close your eyes, and lean into the pillars of your husbands for support. 

The air changes. A slight breeze, warm for October, encircles you. You inhale a gentle scent of rich earth and dust. When you open your eyes again, the brothers’ home is standing before you, same as it ever was, but entirely changed. 

Perhaps it’s only you who has changed, now hanging on to the witches. 

Michael and Vanessa are just behind you and the witches, standing on the gravel outside of the home, disgruntled about the change of scenery or perhaps the use of magic, but you hope they’ll see the possibility of goodness within the brothers as you have.

Eclipse’s hand slips under your chin to lift your head back. His expression warms with the bright new day. Sun kisses your fingertips until you shiver in delight. Moon turns your palm over to reach the delicate lines of veins along your wrist, and presses his lips to your pulse.

“We are home,” Eclipse says. He kisses the top of your head.

You are home with your husbands.

[hipsdofangirl]

happy 100 followers!! could i please request an idol au, comedy meet-cute with seungcheol?🥹

idol! seungcheol x gn! reader

title: one shot

genre: comedy, meet-cute, scoups down bad for someone he just met, fluff, strangers (to lovers),,,not proofread**

song inspo: glass moon dance - the vanished people

wc: 1.7k

thank you so much for the support!! i hope this tickles your fancy 🫶🫶

part of my 100 followers event!

when you arrived in seoul, you wanted to try everything: the restaurants, the day and nightlife, cutesy clothes that sometimes fit a bit too snug, the atmosphere, and other things that became indecipherable in your notebook from high school.

it’s been about two days into your week-long trip with your best friend. the weather had been a bit rainy, interrupting your plans to take the cliche-instagram-worthy photos to post, flexing on people who thought you could never make it that far. a sunny day in the fall seemed like the perfect opportunity to accomplish that goal.

except, it seemed like everything and everyone was against you both that day. at some parts it got too windy, causing you to ingest your own hair; or some people walked in front of the camera at the perfect moment (if you weren’t the victim you would have applauded their skills).

of course, when you were taking those aesthetic photos of your friend, they came out perfect. you were wondering at some point if she was lowkey sabotaging you or if you should sign her up for some classes.

the sunny moderately warm day lasted as it should have—till nighttime.

in the park, the green leaves rub against each other and the glittering wind, leaving your ears to enjoy the sound filling the silence. you sit on the bench alongside the sidewalk in the park, facing the river in front of you. the lights illuminate your form as you adjust your head under your scarf even further.

you watch the waves rumble and tag one another before your gaze is caught up to your friend, becoming one up close with the river.

you sigh, tapping your foot impatiently. you click your tongue and pull out your phone from your coat pocket.

‘why do their candids always look great?’

you snap a photo of them. you slide out of the camera app and open up photos, admiring your work with your tongue poking out of your lips.

you glance up to look at their form now but notice something a bit further down the path approaching your spot.

‘screw it. i don’t live here anyways.’

as they got closer, you quietly adjusted your position to sit forward, praying your friend doesn’t call you out.

you could hear their heavy footsteps and out of the corner of your eyes, you notice the form is of a man.

‘this can go one or two ways.’

you couldn’t help but swipe through your photos anstily, grimacing at how your friend did you dirty.

‘what could go wrong?’

abruptly, you stand up and lightly march over to the strolling man with fervor.

you don’t look at his face nor do you look to see if your friend is nearby to possibly watch you get kidnapped.

instead, you plant yourself in front of him, causing him to stop. looking down at your shoes, you only hold out your phone with both hands.

you go to speak but your throat gets clogged—goddamn cold weather. slowly, you peer up at the man to gauge his reaction: one of confusion and bit of fear. you immediately retract your eyes.

you try to cough out the words, but your overthinking mind doesn’t let it go out, afraid of spitting in his face.

your hands shake from not breathing in properly, you can only imagine how red your face is.

you attempt to clear your throat. “photo?” you don’t meet his gaze.

the man makes a confused noise of understanding, slowly taking your phone into his hands, lingering his fingers to radiate warmth to you.

he steps back and you cough freely from relief.

you start instructing, “could you get one—“ you point to yourself and the river, “—with the river in the background, please?”

the man mutters as a reply, “of course.”

you pat your pants and adjust your hair the way you want before posing towards the man. to see him taking a selfie with the river in the back.

you watch him for a second, posting his cheekbones to pop out a dimple as he smushes a peace sign in his other cheek.

your pose deflates like a car-dealership balloon. “excuse me?”

the man—who you now recognize is a cutie—glances at you then flinches before pouring his whole attention over at you. your face must have explained it all.

you cough again, not from the cold air, “as much as i appreciate the selfie, i was hoping you could take one of me?”

his eyes widen as his mouth parts. it’s comical how his arms slowly gather to his chest, beginning to cradle your phone in embarrassment.

he nods his head sheepishly and couldn’t help but slip out a smile. watching him take light of the situation, makes you chuckle, letting out an accidental snort.

his smile widens. you immediately cover your smiling lips and curl into yourself from you own embarrassment.

“sorry—sorry!” the man says, chuckling at the end. your laughter dies down as you apply pressure to your stomach, trying to soothe the pain from laughing. you slowly arch your back upwards to face him head on.

he hands you back your phone and you don’t notice it’s turned off—rather you are more interested in the man in front of you. you pocket the phone in your jacket side, your fingers smoothing over the surface to ground yourself.

you cough again into your fist before raising an eyebrow at him. “if you don’t mind me asking, what was that about.”

his eyes squint past his smile as his cheeks softly glow. “ahh—this is so embarrassing.” his hands reach from his sides to aggressively wipe off the metaphoric shame.

you cross your arms, slowly taking a playful step closer to him. “cmon it can’t be that bad? if it’s a habit then…” you trail off, not desiring to look into this guy’s possible narcissistic tendencies.

he peers at you through his fingers. “you…don’t know who i am?” he questions quietly.

your brows furrow as you study the man: who seemed to have recovered, but now is a bit tense, as if one sound will send him running.

you uncross your arms and opt to set your palms free to feel the cool air. “i’m sorry, i don’t know you—wait this isn’t a pick-up line, is it?”

his eyes widen as his cheeks prominently color a darker shade. he detaches his hands and waves them.

“no! well, not at first,” he mutters quietly, “but it’s been a long day, and i was hoping for some alone time.” his hands awkwardly pat the sides of his baggy pants as he shuffles toward you.

you pout at his words. finally putting two and two together, you realized who he is.

you close in the distance. “you’re a famous person right?”

the man smirks before cocks it into a soft smile; his hand reaches to rip off the beanie before running his other hands between strands of his hair.

“with glorious hair like that you definitely are,” you scoff with jealousy.

he giggles at your remark.

you blink and intertwine your own hands. “i don’t want an autograph like that—i mean technically i already got your picture but i really don’t want to disturb you any longer.”

he slides the beanie back over as you ramble, but as soon as you finish, his lip juts out. “no! it’s okay! in fact,” he trails off, looking around your surroundings, “i’d say i owe you something.”

your hands tighten. “owe me what? if you’re talking about me letting your possible crazy fans know where you are i’m just being a decent human being—“

he clasps your hands with his own, pouring his heat to share.

his smile grew. “not for that—though i really do appreciate it—but the fact i dirtied your shoes.”

you stutter, “they are shoes, i could always—“

“ahhh—it’s a bit cold out but there’s this cafe i heard about that—“ he begins to ramble, hoping to throw you off track.

you stop him. “woah! i don’t even know your name—wait better to call you something else to keep up this mysterious handsome rich famous person facade.”

he digs his shoe into the pathway, attempting to discreetly kick back the dirt he initially threw onto you so he could talk to you more.

he looks up to the sky, acting like he is pondering something. “mysterious handsome rich famous person rolls off the tongue.” he smirks.

you interrupt his dream. “i am not calling you that,” you scoff in disbelief.

his hold on your hands tighten as if to bring you back together. “i know i know!” he suddenly makes eye contact with you, the air becoming solemn. “but it would probably be in both of our best interest to not know each other’s names.” he takes one hand to push a strand of hair away from your face. “i would hate for you to get in trouble.”

you hum. “as i do for you.”

he hums as his tongue swipes across his lips, loosening eye contact. “one drink at the cafe—let me indulge for being mysterious tonight. plus, i’ll get another good candid shot of you that you’ll never regret.”

you chuckle. “tempting but my friend—“ right as you were about to finish your statement, your phone buzzed. you quickly unlatch one hand absentmindedly to look: a message from that friend themself saying to have a nice date.

you turn off your phone and put it back into its previous spot. “my new friend here,” you swivel to stand side-by-side and bump him with your hip, “sounds like it’s a perfect night to get some shots.”

your new yet short-timed friend laughs. “more than one kind of shot?”

he readjusts your grip on your remaining interlocked fingers as the other hand pulls his mask up from his chin.

you follow into his walking pace with a hearty ‘no way’! enjoying the sincere yet secretive moment to only be witnessed by you both.

a/n: i guess im obsessed with candid shots cause first that seokmin fic and now this—i love them i got to admit. also yes this is based off that one story with jeonghan and another member that i cannot recall at this time

if you made it this far, have a good day/night!

ALSO these transparent headers or physical images? trying something out for this event

origin of header

tags: @jcxbliss

[andypantsx3]

ALL IN A DAY'S QUIRK : SERO HANTA x READER

summary: Sero gets hit with a quirk that makes others see him as the person they are most attracted to. Which you really wish you had known before you opened your mouth and gave him your usual, “Hey, Sero!” tags/warnings: pro hero au, fluff, misunderstandings, quirk accident, not actually unrequited feelings, smut, thigh riding, fem reader (no pronouns but AFAB genitalia terms used), aged up characters, 5.3k

It was approximately four thirty-three p.m. when Sero Hanta returned from patrol and blew your peaceful day to bits.

Before his arrival, the Todoroki Agency had been relatively quiet, as it usually was around this time, everyone but the on-call staff winding down for the day. You’d been hearing the telltale rustling of jackets and scuffle of feet in the office behind you since the clock ticked past four.

Not long after, a couple of your friends from the analytics department had wandered over to your desk, clearly deciding they were not going to get anything else done, gossiping and stealing the candies you kept in a glass bowl on the reception counter.

“I heard Shouto’s manager is considering signing him up for a shirtless charity calendar,” Mari told you immediately, wiggling her eyebrows. “Hana from brand management said she was asked to do research on the impact the calendar had on other pros’ careers, so I think this is serious.”

She looked beyond pleased, her cheeks pink and her ears tipped red, the way they always were when she contemplated her massive crush on your agency head, Todoroki Shouto.

You couldn’t fault her–Shouto was incredibly handsome and kind, if a bit spacey–but you’d always been drawn to a different pro hero on the agency roster. Someone just a little bit taller, with dark hair and a half-moon grin, a razor sharp sense of humor, and the most inconceivably mouth-watering thighs in the pro hero business.

Not that you had been giving them attention. Much.

You suppressed the urge to ask if anyone else from the agency was being considered for the calendar, wiggling your eyebrows back. “Well I know you’ll be the first in line.”

Mari’s blush deepened, and Kimiko laughed around an orange-flavored candy, which you stocked for many reasons other than a certain tape-themed hero’s predilection for oranges, thank you very much.

“I just hope they include Uravity-san,” Kimiko said. “I mean–not shirtless shirtless, but like, god would I kill for her in a little sports bra.”

Kimiko sounded unaffected, but you’d literally hidden her beneath your desk the time pro heroes Uravity and Deku visited for an agency team-up with the Todoroki office. She’d spent the entire time peering out with big eyes, muttering under her breath, “I am so gay. So very very gay.”

You didn’t doubt if Uravity were included in the spread, Kimiko might even beat Mari out for the first spot in line.

“You both have such kind hearts,” you laughed. “So eager to give to charity.”

“I’m a lifelong philanthropist,” Mari agreed, picking up your pen and doodling hearts all over your office stationery. You noticed she colored in only the left side, and suppressed another laugh.

Whatever. You knew what it was to be that whipped, even if you’d never do anything about it.

As huge as your thing was for Sero, there wasn’t a chance in hell he returned your affections. He was incredibly friendly, but over the past few years, he’d never even given a hint that he was into you like that. He’d treated you with the same easy cheer and subjected you to the same good-natured roasting he did everyone else in the agency.

And now was not the time to go looking for more, anyway. You’d recently become close enough to see Sero outside of work and you were not about to endanger that–you’d been invited to a house party of his a couple months ago, gone to drinks with him and a couple of agency people after work, and even grabbed dinner alone a few times over the past few weeks. You’d been texting memes practically nonstop this entire week alone.

He was so much fun, always quick with a joke, a wink, or an interesting story, and he wasn’t afraid to tell things like they were. You forgot time was passing when you were with him, and sometimes when you went out, you stayed out long enough that you thought he might, too.

So you were finally reaching a stage in your friendship where Sero clearly felt close and comfortable—you would not press for more.

It was just, sometimes, when he smiled down at you with that clever, mischievous grin, your heart felt like it was experiencing some sort of medical event. Sometimes, when he put his dark hair up into a messy half-bun, those biceps cording as he did so, it felt like someone had just vacuumed all the oxygen straight out of your lungs. Sometimes, when he leaned down to whisper something to you in his most conspiratorial tones, it felt like someone had spiked your brain into a blender and pureed it into mush.

But it was cool.

You knew how to play it cool.

Mari pulled you back to earth with the promise of more gossip—this time, about her arch nemesis in accounting—and Kimiko leaned in, offering her own commentary over the unwrapping of another of your candies.

And then the clock struck four thirty-three, and Sero Hanta returned from patrol.

You heard the telltale mechanic ping of an agency badge passing checkpoint, and peeked around Kimiko to see Sero trudging through the doorway, looking strangely contemplative. He was covered in dirt and his uniform was slashed in several places, including a great deal of shredding about the thighs, which you would have been happier about if he didn’t look so unusually subdued.

He didn’t look hurt at any rate, so that was good. But you couldn’t help but call out to him.

“Hey Sero!” you said, curious about his demeanor. “How’d patrol go? Something happen?”

Kimiko and Mari turned around, and you watched as both of them seemed to freeze up. Kimiko’s hand slapped against the reception counter, the sound echoing through the room, gripping tightly as though she’d suddenly seen a ghost.

“Ur–Uravity-san,” she said, dipping into the most formal bow you’d ever seen her make. “What’s brought you here?”

You felt your mouth pull into a frown, staring at the back of her head in absolute bamboozlement. Was she seeing things? The only person in the doorway was Sero, and he was very much unaccompanied.

His helmet was propped between his hip and his elbow, so his face was clear too–so Kimiko didn’t even have the excuse of not being able to see his face, different though his costume was from Uravity’s.

Sero blinked, his mouth pulling into a semi-puzzled grin. “Uravity?”

Mari was slapping Kimiko before you could inquire the same thing, hissing, “Are you losing it? That’s fucking Shouto.” She turned back to pin you with something between a glare and a concerned, assessing gaze, as if you too had lost your marbles.

You frowned back, your own concern deepening. “I’m sorry–are you guys seriously telling me that Shouto and Uravity are here with Sero?” You peered back around Mari at Sero, quirking a brow at him. “Did they get hit with some kind of invisibility quirk or are these two experiencing some kind of hallucination?”

Maybe too much shirtless calendar talk had gotten them too hot and bothered.

Sero’s dark gaze pinned you, and he quickly came tromping over, his boots echoing on the stone flooring. He leaned over the reception counter, pointing to his face with one long, pretty finger. “Wait, you can tell it’s me?”

He smelled like cement and sweat and dust, and something vaguely minty, like he’d been chewing gum recently. You tried not to let your expression show how much you liked the look of him up close, those hooded dark eyes, his wide, charming mouth.

“Um, yes? I have eyeballs?” you wondered.

Sero blinked, leaning in closer. Your heartbeat ticked up. “You’re sure?”

“Should I not be…sure?” you asked. “Are Shouto and Uravity really with you and I’m the only one who can’t see them?”

Sero shook his head, “Nah–it’s just me.”

You frowned up at him, curious. “Then why are they calling you Shouto and Uravity…?”

Sero shook his dark head. His hair was pulled into that half-bun you loved, the way it usually was under his helmet on patrol, and all mussed from whatever run in he’d had. You tried not to think about what other activities might get his hair all mussed like that.

He smiled, something wide and conspiratorial. “Got hit with some kinda illusion quirk. People have stopped me like a thousand times on my way in to ask for All Might’s autograph, or Hawks’, and even Bakugou’s. They’re lucky it was just me, he’d have thrown a shit fit getting cut off in the street like that.”

Sero’s features shifted into something slightly more contemplative again. “But you’re somehow immune, huh?”

You frowned. “Shouldn’t you get checked out at medical, then?”

His eyes softened, and another grin made its way onto his mouth. “Yeah yeah, I’ll head right there.”

Kimiko and Mari were still gaping over at him like he was a miracle, and some strange feeling came over you, a concerned little squeeze of your heart. You grabbed Mari, plonking her down into your seat in your stead. “Cover me for a couple minutes? Just say people are unavailable and take notes and I’ll figure it out when I get back. I’m gonna run down to medical with Sero for a second.”

Mari nodded dumbly.

You pulled Sero’s helmet out of his grip, resting it in the crook of your own elbow, and gestured him down the hall with you. Sero fell into step beside you, keeping up easily with his long stride. He grinned down at you, seemingly unperturbed that he’d gotten hit with a quirk that had all but erased his identity in the eyes of others.

It was something you admired in him, his inherent good-naturedness.

You wondered why you were the only one who could tell it was him.

“Any good gossip while I was gone?” he asked, like he really couldn’t be fussed about his predicament. “I was starting to hear shirtless calendar talk before I had to head out on patrol.”

You suppressed a flush and fought down the urge to ask if he’d been asked to be in it too.

You did not need to know.

“Whatever the hell is going on with you is the spiciest bit of gossip all day,” you told him, rounding a corner and badging into the stairwell down to the medical floor. You clung to the railing carefully and most definitely did not watch his thighs bunch as he took the stairs. “Want a drink after work? It seems like you could use one, after this.”

Sero smiled, an eyebrow raising. “Trying to get me drunk, huh?”

You wrinkled your nose. “As if I’d need to be so underhanded.”

You did. You did need to be so underhanded.

Sero had to angle himself carefully through the door, his shoulder pieces liable to snag on the doorway with the breadth of those pro hero shoulders. The medic on staff took one look at him and flushed, mumbling out a name you didn’t know.

You piped in before she could say more. “Cellophane’s been hit with a quirk that makes him appear like someone else. It’s not whoever you think!”

She blinked curiously, but then nodded, probably having seen much weirder things in her time as a hero agency staffer. She gestured Sero to a cot on the side of the room. “Alright, please sit down, Cellophane. We’ll do a couple quick tests and then get you sorted with the right quirk cancellation.” Her cheeks seemed to heat again as she spoke, but she made good on her promise, disappearing down the hall, calling to someone for quirk testing strips.

Sero hopped up on the cot, swinging those long legs, grinning at you from eye-level, now. “Think I should prank a couple people before they cancel it?”

You rolled your eyes. “Only you would be having fun with this. No one in the world knows who you are!”

The corner of Sero’s mouth pulled wryly. “You do.”

“You don’t know if that could change, dude. Better get it over with before you get stuck as like, Endeavor forever.”

Sero laughed, light and airy. “Shouto wouldn’t hang with me anymore.”

You nodded. “Exactly, and none of the rest of us read the same weird manga you guys are into so you’d be all alone with no one to fanboy about it to.”

The medic returned with a thick silvery strip, pulling on blue nitrile gloves as she did so. Sero held his arm out obligingly, the lean muscle flexing in the fluorescence of the office lighting. She peeled off the backing of the strip, pressing it to Sero’s forearm, pushing it down firmly.

She attached a cable to some screened device, and you listened to the beep of various buttons. Sero watched you over her shoulder, his easy smile still in place.

Finally, the device in the medic’s hand beeped, and she pulled back, announcing somewhat shyly, “An attraction-type quirk.”

You blinked, mystified. A what?

Sero’s grin seemed to freeze on his face, and his thin brows furrowed the tiniest bit.

The medic continued, oblivious. “This quirk creates an illusion. External parties will perceive the affectee with the traits or as the person they are most attracted to.”

Sero’s dark eyes snapped to yours, widening, and you fumbled a step back, almost tripping over yourself. You threw out a hand, barely catching yourself on the counter.

No.

Oh fuck no.

If people were seeing who they were most attracted to…and you had just seen Sero the whole time…

That would mean—that would mean—and he had heard you say—

“Oh my god, I just remembered I have to get back to Mari,” you said, offering Sero a wave of your suddenly numb hand. “Can’t, um, strand her at the desk for too long. I’ll leave you guys to it. Uh, yeah. Thanks–bye!”

You quickly threw yourself out through the door, leaving Sero alone with the medic. You dashed back up the stairwell, your heartbeat shooting into your mouth.

How could this be happening? How unbelievably embarrassing was that? You’d worked so hard to play it cool in front of Sero for all this time, for years, really, and you’d finally just made it to a comfortable place as friends.

And then—and then—some attraction-illusion quirk goes and blows your cover, just like that? For real?

And he’d heard you, too. Heard you say, “Hey, Sero!” as soon as he’d come through the door, before anyone had revealed anything about who else they thought he might be instead. Before you could have possibly had any clue that he’d been quirked.

You could die of mortification.

You shooed Mari and Kimiko away from the desk when you got back, quickly readying your things to get the hell out of the office as soon as your night replacement arrived. You cleaned up all the bi-colored hearts Mari had doodled on every available surface of your desk and refilled the candy bowl Kimiko had apparently seen fit to devastate in your absence, your ears heating with the thought that Sero could catch on now, why you stocked orange candies.

God, could your replacement hurry the fuck up before Sero got back here?

But the night receptionist was predictably late, of course, and by the time you finally saw him badge through the front entrance you could hear quick, booted steps across the tile behind you.

Sero’s voice sounded over the back of your chair, just as a long-fingered hand closed around your wrist.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice more careful than you’d ever heard it. “Still up for that drink? I think maybe we could talk over it.”

The night receptionist nodded at you and Sero as he made his way over, and you gave up your chair to him, collecting your bag with Sero’s warm fingers still clutching your wrist. You slowly worked up the courage to look up at him, face heating as you took in his uncharacteristically intent expression. His face had been cleaned and it looked like some antibiotic had been applied to some of the scrapes along his jaw.

You knew then you’d trapped yourself. Though it was probably also better to get things over with now than avoid the subject forever.

“Okay,” you said, trying to keep your voice normal. “Yeah, let’s talk.”

Sero was the nicest dude ever, you had to remember that. Even when it came down to a rejection, he would still be completely kind and friendly. Probably not too much would change on his end afterwards either. You couldn’t imagine him avoiding you or treating you any differently.

“My place okay?” Sero asked as you shrugged on your bag.

You nodded, and he smiled, nearly as wide and silly as he normally did, tinged with only the slightest bit of shyness.

You’d originally planned to take him out somewhere fun, but this conversation was probably best had in private. And Sero’s place was close, an apartment only a couple blocks’ walk, in a charming little neighborhood fringed by a park and a variety of interesting bars and cafes. Sero chatted away with his usual friendly ease as you walked, still in his shredded hero costume, waving to the couple people that recognized him as you did so.

Your stomach flipped as he opened his front door, gesturing you inside under his arm. He was tall and lanky enough that you fit easily, and you caught a whiff of that minty scent again under all the dust that coated his uniform. You tried not to look too closely at the lines of his bicep as you passed under it.

His apartment was just as you’d remembered it; spacious, casually decorated in neutral tones with splashes of interesting patterns spread across the rug, throw pillows, and his collection of wall hangings. It smelled cottony and clean, and Sero gestured you to his couch as he dumped his helmet and boots in the doorway, shrugging off his shoulder pieces.

“A beer cool?” he asked as he made his way into the kitchen. “I’ve got a couple of good ones.”

“Sounds great,” you told him, listening to the sounds of him cracking the caps.

To your surprise he plopped down on the couch next to you as he came back in, handing you a bottle. It was cold, and your fingers made little prints in the condensation where you touched it.

“So,” he said, turning to you, a sly look in his dark eyes. “You wanna talk about what just happened?”

Your face flamed, and you took a quick sip of your beer to give you time to recover yourself. It was sour on your tongue, a hint of orange peel in its profile.

“No,” you told him honestly, giving him a self-conscious smile, which he returned. “I think it’s pretty clear, actually. You got hit by a quirk that shows people the person they’re most attracted to and I, uh, obviously saw, um, you.”

Sero’s grin pulled wider at the edges, surprising you. If you didn’t know better, you would think he liked hearing that. Although maybe it was a little bit of an ego stroke to hear you were someone’s fantasy man, even if you didn’t return their feelings.

“Not All Might and not Bakugou,” he said, something pleased in his tone.

You blinked at him, disturbed by those insinuations. “Definitely not,” you sniffed. “I am a paragon of taste.”

Sero laughed, his fingers flexing on the side of his beer. Then he took a sip, seeming to contemplate something as he did, and you drew yourself together, preparing for the inevitable. That was definitely a look that said he was thinking hard, probably about the best way to let you down.

But then Sero grinned back down at you, leaning in collusively. “You wanna know something?”

You could feel your brows raise curiously, even as your heartbeat picked up with his proximity. You looked down, then accidentally spied the strips of tanned thigh where his costume had torn, and had to quickly reroute your gaze for fear of staring. “That depends.”

Sero’s grin went even more sly. “I think if you’d been hit with that quirk, I’d have known it was you too.”

Your heartbeat slammed to a halt in your chest. It was only when Sero threw a hand out that you realized you’d lost your grip on your beer, his quick reflexes the only thing saving his carpet. You startled at the sudden move, making a weird arm-flinging motion somewhere between grabbing for your beer and grabbing onto him, ending up accidentally smacking him in the chest instead.

“Fuck, I—sorry!” you garbled out, stunned by his sudden proximity and the fistful of his costume you’d taken. His skin was warm against the side of your hand.

Sero blinked, looking taken aback for a moment. Then he shifted, and you heard the clink of two beers being deposited on his coffee table. You swallowed, unable to look away from him, and you watched his dark eyes rove over your face, before dipping down to stare at something just under your nose.

A shiver prickled up your spine.

“So when you—with the quirk—” you tried, but your brain had gone offline, and the right set of words were not coming to you. “Um, when you say—you would have known—?”

Sero’s grin crept back across his mouth. “I mean that I’d have seen you, because I’ve been wanting to ask you out and trying to figure out if you're into me for months.”

It had to be the shock of this admission that registered you so stupid. “You—months? Try years.”

Sero’s laugh beat back the instant wave of mortification that overcame you in the next second, when you realized what'd you'd just said. You could only smile back helplessly, equally pleased and embarrassed. He looked so good right then, too, grinning toothily, his hair a mess, his costume torn to shreds. He really was the most gorgeous guy you had ever seen, that quirk had totally had your number.

It suddenly dawned on you that you had little else to lose now, with everything out in the open. And when Sero looked like that—sly, pleased, and a little bit of a mess—you thought you were done trying to bury things.

A thrill zinging down your spine, you leaned in and pressed your mouth to his.

He’d been laughing, and you only caught the edge of his mouth, but Sero quickly corrected. You could feel his lips go slack in surprise for a second, and then he was schooling himself and returning your kiss with abandon.

Long fingers came up to take your chin, holding you firmly in place. It was so unexpectedly bold that you shuddered, kissing him harder. Your hand tangled further in the fabric of his costume, gripping onto him for dear life as his tongue met yours, twisting and teasing. It was so like him, the way he kissed. Teasing, playful, easy. Your head spun with how much you liked it.

“Aw fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Sero said, when he finally pulled away far enough to enunciate the words. He shifted against you, putting a large palm against your back, pulling you to him. You followed his guidance, climbing into his lap, chasing his mouth again. You wanted more—more now that you thought you could have it.

“I’ve been wanting—for years—” you said, squeaking in surprise when Sero guided you down onto a strong thigh. It was hard and thick and way too muscular to be allowed, and your breath left you in a harsh hiss. And because this was the most embarrassing day of your life, Sero clocked it immediately, leaning forward in interest.

“You—like that? My—thigh?” he asked curiously.

You could feel your face burning, like someone had just dunked it in a bucket of hot coals. “I–yes. I like everything about you. Including your thighs,” you admitted.

Sero’s hand guided you back down against him, pressing his knee up experimentally. A thrill sang through your veins at the feeling of a piece of him so warm and firm right up against your core. You barely bit back the noise you wanted to make.

“Fuck, this is weirdly hot,” Sero said, leaning in to take your mouth again. You could feel him growing hard against your knee through the fabric of his costume, as his tongue flicked against yours, making your brain go a little woozy.

His arms came around you, holding your waist as he ground his leg up into you, sending a wave of pleasure striking through you like lightning. The moan you’d been trying to hold in finally broke free of you. “Ah—Hanta!”

The sound seem to spark something in him. Sero surged up, his hands making quick work of your shirt as he kissed you, still rocking you against his thigh in a way that made you see stars. You had the wild thought that everything about him was more than you’d ever imagined it would be, from the delicate press of his fingers to the warmth of his thigh to the way the strands of his hair that had escaped brushed across your forehead. Embarrassingly fast, like he knew exactly how to play you, he worked you up to the crest of your pleasure.

You had to put a hand to his chest to stop him.

“Hanta, if you—I’m going to cum if we don’t stop—” you said.

“Oh my god please,” was his only answer, and he pulled you down onto his thigh with renewed vigor. Sparks of pleasure pricked all over your body as he kissed you again, his hands roaming every inch of exposed skin. He left bruising kisses down the side of your throat, fingers playing with your nipples.

Another few rocks into his thigh sent you right over the edge, and he held you against him as you rode it out, squirming against his thigh.

“This is the hottest thing that has ever happened to me,” he said, something in his tone making it clear he was not done with you yet.

He helped you wiggle out of your pants, freeing himself of his own costume, and laid you out over his couch, grinning. He was golden with a fading summer tan, and his smile was so wide and charming and white against the dimming light from the windows. He was gloriously lean, hard with dense, compact stretches of muscle, every single inch of him honed from years of hero work. He was perfect—so stupidly, handsomely, perfect.

Between his thighs, his cock was just as long and lean, heavy and flush with arousal. It made you dizzy to think that this man, who you’d crushed on for so long, wanted you like this—wanted you back in the same way you’d always wanted him. You motioned him closer, too eager now to be self-conscious about it.

Sero laughed, a happy noise. “Fuck, you’re so pretty though.” He stretched out over you, sliding in between your thighs and guiding himself into you. His chest pressed to yours, hot and slick with a light sheen of sweat already, and you hissed with the feeling of him slipping inside you.

You felt drunk with arousal, crazy with want. You clutched him to you as he moved, thrusting carefully at first, as if testing the feeling of you, and then more firmly. You let out soft noises you hadn't meant to, which Sero seemed to appreciate.

“God, look at you. Listen to you,” he said, grinning down at you, his dark eyes tracing over you. “I can’t believe I got hit with that quirk. This is the luckiest day of my life—you’re so cute. So—fuck—so perfect.”

He slid into a frustratingly sedate pace, strokes long and languid, stretching out almost teasingly. You wrapped your legs more tightly around his hips, trying to press him into you, but his smile just widened. He moved leisurely, setting his own pace, just on the wrong side of too slow.

It drove you insane, somehow working you up even faster than if he’d been doing what you wanted. You muffled the sounds of your own moans against his lips, gripping onto those broad shoulders. Sero’s own fingers slid down to your clit, playing with you just as lightly and teasingly as his thrusts.

You could have killed him, but all you could do was hold onto him, slurring his name appreciatively.

He worked you like that for a while, bringing you close but never too close, drawing out the feeling into something warm and fizzy, like soda left in the sun. But eventually the band of his control seemed to snap, and he began thrusting into you harder, faster. Those long, lovely fingers circled your clit with more intent as he did, murmuring a steady stream of praise.

“Please—cum with me,” he panted into your mouth, as his fingers drew ever-tightening circles over you. “I want you to come with me, Y/N. Can you—can you do that?”

You nodded frantically as his thrusts grew faster, sloppier. He was so good inside you, so good over you, his fingers such a delicious pressure against your clit. It only took a few thrusts more, a few strokes of those careful fingers, and then you were squirming against him in earnest, your veins going molten with pleasure.

“Hanta—I’m going to—!”

“Yessss,” he hissed, and then he was orgasming too, spilling out his pleasure inside of you. His hips slapped yours in a stuttering pattern, half-crazed, and you shook against him, gasping. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you crested the wave, until finally—finally you went limp against him, just as his own body relaxed over you.

“I want to be hit with a quirk all the time,” he said, ridiculously.

You couldn’t help but laugh, smiling into his shoulder. “Don’t make a habit of it.”

Sero hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t know. If this is what I get every time, then…” he trailed off, smirking down at you.

“I’m not going to bang you if you’re going to be irresponsible,” you told him.

He perked up, however, those dark eyes peering at you hopefully. “But you’ll bang me otherwise?”

You laughed again, pinching him lightly on the arm where you held him. “What do you think having a crush on you for years means?”

His grin went all sly and pleased again. “Then I’ll have to lock it down, of course. I haven’t spent months wondering just to let you get away. Starting with dinner this evening, maybe. Do you—would dinner be okay?” he asked. The sound of genuine, eager hope in his voice was so gratifying it made you want to kick your legs in the air.

You settled for nodding instead. “Dinner sounds amazing.”

“Then I’ll arrange the finest takeout just for you,” he said, which you knew from experience meant the empanadas place around the corner. You laughed again, feeling full already with the promise of an easy meal, and a relationship to come.

“Whatever you want sounds good to me,” you said, even as he began to slide off of you, helping you up alongside him. “You’ve had a crazy day today, empanadas sound like the perfect cap.”

Sero leaned in, his expression as mischievous and charming as always. “It’s nothing,” he said, even as he carefully held out your shirt to you again, guiding you into it in an unexpectedly gentlemanly move. You let him stuff you into it, laughing, smiling into the kiss he gave you as you emerged.

He winked at you as he found his phone and dialed, smiling as you heard the call connect. “After all, I'm a hero," he said. "And it’s all in a day’s work.”

[shellshocklove]

red moon risin' | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: in the aftermath of the raiders, you and joel struggle your way to jackson.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, canon-typical violence, guns, panic attacks, angst, blood, wounds, suicidal thoughts, smut, unprotected sex, no use of y/n

a/n: this is the third part to this. i know it's taken me 100 years to post this and i'm sorry about that. i've somewhat settled into my new job, but i have much less time to write now than i used to have. this story will be finished tho!

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist / fic updates

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Under him, Joel felt the way the mare's muscles moved as he rocked back and forth in the saddle. She was a good horse, young, but trusting; always letting Joel take the lead. It made the job easy, the patrolling, knowing his horse could read him just as well as he read her. Softened thuds left horseshoe prints behind as they rode down the tired path for the fourth time this month.

A quiet day.

The snow had given way to the sun a few weeks ago, and when the last patch of rotten snow had finally dried up, the world had flowered with spring. Birds chirped, the days had gotten longer, and a hint of what some people would call hope was in the air.

But Joel wasn't 'some people'.

Under his padded leather jacket sweat dripped down his back as the sun warmed him from behind. All day it had bothered him – it was just too bright, and all the squinting had a headache brewing behind his eyes.

Behind him, Joel could hear the hoofs of Tommy's horse and his voice muffling praise to the stallion. His little brother. The one he'd spent his whole life protecting and worrying about, had now settled down with a wife and a child. Joel was happy for him, he truly was, but it also reminded him of all he'd lost.

Joel squinted up at the empty sky, and found himself wondering what would happen if he managed to shoot a hole in the sun. Would it fizzle out like a balloon draining of air? Maybe the hole would crash in on itself and explode in a supernova like he remembered reading in one of Sarah's old science books a lifetime ago.

The death of a star, and the birth of a black hole.

It seemed fitting. A black hole. That's what he was. A monster. Your words. A killer. Someone who destroyed everything in his path; destroyed every single thing that was good in his life. The reminder of your words, of that night all those months ago had an invisible hand wrap its fingers around his heart. His breath quickened and that familiar pressure started to build in his chest – the pressure that seemed to push him down more and more.

Fuck.

His hand moved on its own, loosening the reins before it tightened into a fist over his heart, pushing against the pressure. He tried to remember to breathe but it was like his throat had tightened into a pinhole.

C'mon now, Joel told himself, just breathe you stupid old man.

When the world started to blur at the edges something black and brightly orange fluttered before him. Joel had to use all of his energy to focus his eyes where it landed on his fist over his heart.

Slowly retracting and widening its wings, the butterfly rested over his fist. Watching it with widened eyes the pressure in his chest fizzled away, and suddenly with a shaky breath Joel could breathe again.

It's okay dad, he heard in the wind, it was her voice, his babygirl's, a voice he was so afraid of forgetting, you're on the right path.

Joel studied the wings, the bright orange against the intricate black lines, and he was reminded of the butterfly he'd seen in the woods with Arthur when he'd first arrived at the farm. How it had rested on his knee, calm and unafraid of the winter to come– a winter that had taken everything from him.

He wasn't on some right path, he'd steered off it the day she'd died and he'd never found his way back. Every waking hour for the last twenty years he'd lost another part of himself to violence, to the sound of a neck snapping, a gunshot echoing, or flesh breaking open underneath his fist.

Why pretend he could ever find his way back?

Joel figured he could live with all the blood on his hands, and all the nightmares reminding him of all the lives he's taken. They had all blurred together by now, all the red, like how you could get lost staring at a Rothko painting.

Shifting his weight in the saddle, the strap of his shotgun dug into his shoulder and rubbed at where he ached. The wound had healed up now, finally, but he'd wished it had taken him. Infection might've been the cruelest way to go, but didn't he deserve it after everything he'd done? To die painfully?

The only solace he could find in surviving was that you were finally safe. He didn't care that he was alone or that you hated him, you were safe– that's what he'd told you.

Down the barrel of Joel's gun your body shook, visibly, with widened eyes full of fright and your hands above your head. They were shaking too, your hands. To your left, inches from you, the man's lifeless body spilled red, feeling nothing as the life of him pooled in a steady stream at your knees where it stained your jeans. The wood drank greedily, feeding the foundation of the hunting cabin, turning fat and gluttonous from Joel's generous offering.

The way your eyes met his, terrified and disturbed, pulled him from the trance that had clouded his mind with fire smoke. Dropping his gun, he moved with haste, falling to his knees to take your head in his palms. Joel didn't realize how cold his hands were until they met your warm cheeks, but the way you flinched at his touch yanked at his heart.

"Shh," he cooed, "You're safe now, angel, you're safe," he told you, almost desperate.

"H-he's d-dead," you stuttered, "J-Jonah's d-dead."

He tried to soothe you, rubbing his fingers over your skin, but still you trembled under his touch. Worse, you didn't meet his gaze, instead your eyes stared a hole in his shoulder. Or maybe it was the bullet from the man bleeding out beside you?

"Y-you're b-bleeding," you muttered.

When Joel's own eyes found his shoulder he realized his mistake. Maybe it was the adrenaline leaving his body, or the way your terrified eyes looked at him, but the ache in his shoulder intensified into an excruciating pain.

Gritting his teeth, Joel had to pull himself together before answering, "I'm okay, angel, I'm okay." He emphasized every word with a rub of his thumb over your cheek, but what he'd meant to be a soothing action, instead, smeared blood in thumb sized streaks over your skin.

Fat wet tears mixed with the blood, and lines of salty rivers cut through the iron stains. The look on your face hurt more than the open wound and awakened the beast inside of Joel who screamed at him to protect, protect, protect.

"It's okay," he told you again, "you're safe."

Like repeating himself would do the trick, like if only he said it enough times it would come true, like hearing it again would convince him that the world wasn't broken.

More tears streamed down your cheeks, the drops wetting his fingers where they pooled over the ridges of his skin. You were shaking as you watched the blood pour out of his wound, or maybe this time it was him that was shaking? Joel couldn't tell – Joel didn't want to know – he just needed to feel you close, and know that you were real.

His nose pressed harshly into yours as he caught your lips in a rushed kiss, and he melted against you as all borrowed adrenaline-fueled energy seeped out of him and into your kiss. In his hands your body finally relaxed, the shocked stiffness of your muscles fading you away into a puddle of a woman – the water of you soon to run through his fingers.

The winter wind howled like a clown, laughing at Joel's attempt at orientating through the endless dark wilderness. The knee-deep snow clung to his jeans with every step, and made them stiff like they had been starched. If he'd been of clear mind, and with a gallon more of blood running through his veins, they'd stayed at the cabin until you'd gotten the bleeding under control. But his mind wasn't clear, and with each step Joel took he felt the life drain out of him.

You'd patched him up with shaky hands– twirled strip by strip of a torn cotton t-shirt around his shoulder, but the wound gushed blood with every movement Joel made. He didn't know where they were going, only clearing a path in the snow for you in the opposite direction he'd come from after he'd finally found you.

There was a town, a commune, something, somewhere– he remembered you'd told him one sparkling day when the sun had shone. A place where Tommy might be, where you'd been supposed to take him come spring. But Joel's dream of spring was as fruitful as a thirsty man's dream of water in the midst of a hot desert.

When night came, the branches seemed to rustle like living things as the wind picked up its pace whipping flakes of snow in your faces. Joel dragged his feet after him, and the weight of the gun tipped him to the side. Behind him, you'd been quiet all day– the only reason he knew you were still with him was the sound of your feet through the snow and the rhythm of your shaky breath.

Joel didn't know when you'd stumbled on the river, but the wind blew harsher here, biting through his body. The snow grew thicker and wilder, and soon the only thing Joel could see was a sea of white. He knew you couldn't continue like this– you needed a place to camp and ride out the storm.

When you happened upon the cliffside along the river bank, the wind hid behind the mountain wall, and the snow didn't feel like a thousand icy daggers no more. It was a relief, but without shelter Joel knew the night would be long.

"Joel."

Your voice was quiet, but firm nevertheless. “We need to stop.”

“It’s not much further,” he said through gritted teeth, blinking hard in an attempt to dispel the spots dancing in front of his eyes.

“To where? You’ve been saying that for three days now– but not once have you told me where we’re going,” you told him desperately, “I'm freezing, starving and I'm tired– you can barely stand straight... we need to stop and find shelter.”

A sharp gust of wind blew your voice away, and Joel felt the earth crumble underneath him before a pair of arms locked around his middle.

“T-Tommy?” Joel managed to stutter out.

“Joel,” you sighed again, but there was something hurtful hiding in the lilt of your voice.

In your arms Joel swallowed hard as he felt a wave of nausea sweep over him while the beat of his heart thumped through his poorly bandaged wound. In the darkened winter he searched for your face, but the moon had abandoned him behind the clouds that spat wild and icy snowflakes.

“I think I saw some caves on the cliffside when we were walking earlier... not perfect, but–” he thought he heard you say as you locked your arms tighter around him before you started moving.

Joel's feet somehow moved on their own as you dragged him along. He tried his best not to lean too heavily on you, never wanting you to carry the burden of him on your back – but once again he had failed.

This wasn't supposed to have happened.

The gun shot should've never had happened.

It had been so easy. He'd found their tracks quickly, fresh in the snow, like breadcrumbs to follow, and once he'd found the scout, a darkness had taken over Joel's body. Every pull of the trigger was just a means to an end, just a body standing in the way of the only light in Joel's world. But when he'd kicked down the last door he'd been blinded by you, and just for a second the time had stood still while a wave of relief had washed over him.

You were alive.

The man’s finger on the trigger brought Joel back to the moment in the blink of a gunshot, and the world that had moved in slow motion sped up. Joel's own finger on the trigger was quick, methodical, sending a bullet right between the man's eyes.

You were safe.

When you reached the inside of the cave, Joel stumbled out of your hands before he felt himself sink through his knees. Catching his breath he rested his head against the cold stone wall for a moment before he closed his eyes as exhaustion finally took over his body, the pain somehow intensifying as he struggled to keep his stomach from turning.

A rustling sound pierced through the pain and had him opening his eyes. He could barely see you where you moved about the hard stone floor of the cave, crouching down and searching around the ground with your fingers.

“No,” he croaked, shaking his head feebly, “No fire.”

“We’ll freeze to death,” you told him matter of factly, continuing to search for twigs and placing them on a growing pile.

“If anyone finds us, we’re gonna to wish we did,” he managed, but Joel’s eyes were starting to get heavy despite all of his efforts, and his body sank to the floor. He opened his mouth to rebut you, but instead felt his consciousness start to slip away before he could say a word, staying alert only a moment longer to hear your voice speak quietly.

“I’ll take my chances.”

Joel dreamt of darkness and a cold that made his hackles rise. It penetrated through him, through muscle and fat and deep into his bones. Nothing burned like the cold, and nothing was as blinding as the darkness.

When Joel regained consciousness, it was because of the pain.

Blinking his eyes open an angel leaned over him. The flickering flames of the fire contorted your face – casting strange shadows. Joel felt your hands on him, saw how they shook as you fiddled with the poorly bandaged wound, and then he felt it, spikes of hot red pain scouring through his body. There was nothing to hear except his own cry echoing against the cave walls.

"Shh," you hushed, your eyes glued to his wound.

"Angel," Joel muttered, breathlessly, while his hand searched for you, for something to hold on to. Under his fingertips you tensed, your whole body twisting away from his loose grip to get a better look at his wound.

In his chest, Joel's heart cracked – a pain stronger than the hole in his shoulder. His hand fell to the cold rock, and Joel couldn't look at you. He'd been so strong for so long now, but the blood loss and tiredness had drained the last remaining drops of strength from his body.

Instead, his head fell back and his gaze fell on the cave ceiling – to how the shadows seemed to dance on the walls. They contorted against the ridges of the stone walls, flicking flashes like splatters of blood. When the shadows shifted into faces, haunting him with hallowed expressions and dead eyes Joel wished to forget, he shut his eyes tightly.

He let you fuss over him, tie the makeshift bandage across his chest again, and sucked the melting snow from your fingers. It didn't take long before his body shook from the cold, but inside he felt like burning up.

You didn't say much, but he felt your eyes on him where you'd laid him down close to the fire. Joel tried to stay awake, he didn't know why, he knew it didn't look good for him. It seemed like the night was forever, and Joel couldn't stop shaking. You sat watching the fire, lost in your own thoughts.

Joel tried to focus on you, on memorizing every inch of your face, how the lines of you curved, how your hair looked, and he knew he wanted you to be the last thing he saw before he died. He'd been ready for so long, ready to die, but now he couldn't let go. So, he forced his eyes open and watched you as you fed the small fire.

His angel.

When it seemed you'd had enough, you crept closer and laid down before him. Reaching out your hand, you hesitated only for a second before he felt your arm around him and all the tension in his body fell away.

"You should get some rest, Joel," he heard you whisper, but to Joel no rest would come easy knowing it might be the last time he'd ever hold you.

The day blinded him and the harsh white of the snow burned his eyes as Joel struggled to keep them open. Every step he took felt heavier than the last– even with your arm around him helping him with each step. From the sky a thousand butterflies flickered like blinking stars, and Joel felt his mouth stretch into a smile at the sight…

"Please," he heard a voice say, but it sounded so far away it couldn't possibly be important, "Help me, please, Joel."

Shimmering wings landed on Joel's arm and the glint of them caught in the deepest depths of him. Another set of wings landed on his arm, and another, and another, and soon he felt heavy with the weight of a child on his back. Small fingers dug into his jacket, and he felt the ghost of a kiss to his cheek.

Joel laughed.

"Joel," he heard the voice again, cutting through the warmth of his memories, "Please," it cried, but Joel just laughed.

The beat of drumming thunder surrounded him, circled him, and the weight slid off his back in a stream of red. It coated his fingers and his clothes, stained him in crimson. When he looked down at his hands his vision tunneled slowly, and for a small moment Joel frowned.

"No," he muttered, "No, babygirl, no-no-no."

Joel felt himself fall to his knees as a darkness enveloped him, the intensity of the blackness making his head spin…

Dad?

Joel perked up at the word, one he hadn't heard in a long time. Stumbling to his feet, Joel could move mountains with the strength it took to walk into the pitch black. There was something there– something bright and peaceful at the end.

Deeper and deeper he walked while muffled voices he couldn’t interpret hammered at the walls surrounding him. They didn’t matter, he felt safe in here– like he was finally where he belonged.

The closer he got, the clearer everything became. A smile crept over his features when he spotted the wooden door, and he didn't hesitate as he pushed it open. In the blink of an eye the darkness vanished, and Joel was stood by her bed.

Sitting down at the edge as quietly as he could, Joel let his hand rest over the back of his sleeping little girl. Her body rose and fell in a calming rhythm and his palm warmed at her touch as he brushed it gently over the fabric of her sleep shirt.

Then, a shout, a garbled voice he barely recognized.

Shaking his head at the noise, Joel laid down next to his daughter. She was so small – curled up into a little ball with her legs tucked up under her. Wrapping her up in his arms, Joel remembered when she'd just been born; how small she'd been as she'd slept so peacefully on his chest.

Another shout, this time clearer. His name.

Joel’s head moved to look, his eyes squinting down the darkness of the tunnel, seeing nothing. Then, a strangled wince startled him, and he looked back, only to watch as Sarah started gasping for air.

No, no, no, no.

The ground underneath him dug into his knees as he turned to sit up. Beneath him, his babygirl panted for breath.

Okay… Joel acted on autopilot. You're okay. Move your hand, baby. Move your hand.

“Joel,” the voice floated through his head, an echo like the grating of rocks against each other, his temples splitting with pain as he tried to focus on Sarah, “Stay with me, Joel.”

I know, baby, I know, I know, I know, I know. I know it hurts. Stay with me, Sarah.

Her blood gushed beneath his fingers, and the sound of her labored panting had a coldness run down Joel's back. He had to do something. The sound of her pained yelps chipped away at his heart as he gathered her up in his lap.

Come on, baby. You're okay, you're okay. You're gonna be okay. All right… baby, baby, baby, listen to me. I gotta get you up, okay? I got to get you up. All right? You come on.

Joel could feel her clammy arms dig into his shoulder as he moved her. Burning tears pushed at the back of his eyes as he tried to stop the bleeding.

No, no, no, I know, I know, I know, I know.

"No," he muttered, his mouth forming around the words sluggishly, his frown deepening, "No, babygirl, no-no-no."

"Joel."

There it was again, that same voice. It hooked itself at his neck and pulled Joel away, further and further from Sarah as she laid, dying, in his arms.

“No,” he muttered, before something surged through him, a strength he didn’t know he had, “No! Sarah!”

He was shouting now, he was sure of it, the force of his voice reverberating through his throat as he felt the vague imprint of hands on his shoulders, pulling him out of the darkness.

“No,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he felt hot tears push behind his eyes, “Please... Sarah.”

Through the welling of his tears a face swam into his vision, a face he hadn’t seen for a long time, a face he had longed to see.

Tommy?

A surprising wave of relief washed over him, picked him apart and put him together again. Joel wanted to speak, but the words felt too heavy, and he found himself somehow unable to form the words with his lips.

"I'm here– I’m here, brother."

Brother. Brother. Brother.

The word bounced around in Joel's brain as his vision tunneled again, this time darkness creeping around the edges, growing and growing until eventually, Joel felt himself slip, falling backwards into the abyss, mouth open in a silent scream as his mind went completely dark.

In the silence of the blackened darkness Joel moved deeper and deeper into the blinding emptiness. He didn't know what he was searching for, and he couldn't feel his feet move, but he knew something was wrong with him.

Something was very wrong with him.

Still, even if he knew what was wrong it wouldn't matter anyway. Nothing had been right in a long time.

Lies.

The voice echoed against the walls of his brain, like the voice came from within and not from the depths of the darkness. It didn't frighten him, it felt familiar in a way he couldn't put his finger on, a voice he'd heard thousands of times before. Joel kept moving.

Lies, lies, lies.

Her face bled through then, and Joel felt a smile pull at his face. A rift opened in front of him, and in the blink of an eye he was back in their apartment, in their bed with her arms wrapping around him.

"Hey," he rumbled, his voice stained with sleep. Her arms tightened around his torso, and his own hand found hers. It was warm and bony, and Joel felt himself relax into her.

"Hey," Tess whispered back, "Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No," he answered back, "impossible to get a second of shut-eye when FEDRA's blastin' that alarm every half hour."

"Yeah, fucking Robert," she cursed, and Joel could feel her breath against the back of his neck.

Then a curious feeling of deja vu flickered in the back of his mind, and he knew he'd had this exact conversation before. In a second Tess would tell him that she'd spoken to Bill and that they'd have to delay their planned delivery drop for the month. It was too risky after yesterday when one of Robert's guys got busted by FEDRA and most likely had ratted out their current routes.

Joel didn't want to admit how jittery the thought of going a month without the pills made him. At least he had his whiskey, but he couldn't sleep without the pills– he needed them to dull his dreams.

And Tess knew. She always knew.

Slipping her hand from his grip she sat up and pushed him onto his back. Joel let her do it, they both needed it just as much as the other. Pushing the blanket away she fumbled with the buttons on his jeans, and when he felt her hand wrap around him, Joel couldn't help but let out a breathless sigh.

She pumped him a few times before she sat up to pull at her own jeans. Joel watched her undress for him while he pumped his cock, spitting in the palm of his calloused hand to make the glide easier. When she moved to remove her shirt, Joel reached out to stop her.

"Joel," she only said, wisps of her hair falling in front of her face like a curtain fall, "let's not kid ourselves."

Tess held his gaze for what felt like an eternity, a conversation passing between them he wasn't sure he understood. It wasn't love, they both felt it, but it wasn't not love, either. Instead, it was a need. A need for companionship; a need for someone to understand who he was and not flinch away.

She helped him out of his clothes, and when she straddled him naked as the day she was born, Joel's only thought rolling around in his brain was of how beautiful she looked above him.

With one hand resting her weight on his chest, and the other guiding the head of his cock to her entrance, Joel let her use him like she wanted. A deep grunt escaped him when he felt the walls of her wet cunt pulse around him, and his hands slid up the thick of her thigh to grip dents into the skin around her hips. When she started to move her hips, Joel held her down, eyes closed for a moment longer just to feel the warmth of her this close.

His back ached when he sat up, bringing her with him as he leaned back against the headboard. Her lips tasted like whiskey, but her soft moans sweetened the taste. Tess rode his cock like the world was ending, and it had, so many years ago. She kept a steady pace; let Joel touch her how he wanted as she chased her own pleasure as well as his own. It was animalistic, both of them caught in their own worlds and thoughts.

Joel watched her face, how her mouth hung open, and the way the skin around her eyes crinkled when she shut her eyes tightly as Joel met her hips with his own thrusts. He loved to watch her like that– a side of her she'd only show to him. It turned him on, to watch her take what she wanted from him– to know he gave her pleasure. When her legs started to shake and he felt her cunt tighten around him, Joel felt his own orgasm quickly approaching. Wrapping his arm around Tess' waist he flipped them around. Taking his cock in his hand Joel hovered over her as he pumped his cock, coaxing forth his own orgasm.

"Come, Joel– come for me," Tess ordered, her eyes locking with his. With a deep grunt and a tug of his cock Joel came hard, painting her stomach and tits in ropes of hot cum.

In the aftermath Joel wiped her clean, wet cloth in soft hands, as Tess looked at him in the way only she could– like she knew all his secrets. Crawling back into bed, Joel felt Tess' arm wrap around him again– like they'd held him so many times before.

"Try and get some sleep, Joel…" she said, words unsaid lingering between them, words about his dreams, about remembrance, and about remedy.

Closing his eyes, the room faded out into black, and when the rift opened again it was morning. The sun through the yellow curtains stained the room in sepia, and in his arms an angel slept. Joel thought nothing of it as he dipped his head to breathe in the intoxicating scent of you.

Something inside him missed you, something inside him always missed you; he missed you even when he held you in his arms, it was never enough.

You stirred, heavy eyes smiling at him as you took him in in the morning light. Then the smile spread to your lips and you hovered above him, pressing light kisses to his eyelids. Whatever was wrong with him didn't exist anymore when he was with you, or it was like the thing that was wrong with him was also wrong with you, like when two puzzle pieces from two different puzzles fit together.

"Joel?" The voice was like a rock tossed in a still lake, making ripples in Joel's heaven.

No… no, no, no.

Blinking open his eyes, Joel glimpsed a figure to his right. Everything was clouded in fog, and when Joel tried to move a sharp pain shot from his shoulder and ran through his body making him wince.

"Joel!" The figure suddenly moved closer, and through the fog Joel could make out the face of his little brother.

"Where…" Joel tried, his throat dry like sandpaper and his voice not above a whisper.

"What are you sayin', brother?" Tommy squeezed his hand.

Looking around, Joel could make out what looked like a faded hospital room. The walls had yellowed over time, and in places he could see where the paint had started to peel.

"Where… is… she?" Joel tried again.

Tommy shifted in his chair and leaned forward in his seat like he couldn't find a comfortable position. His brother wouldn't meet his eyes, they looked past him, flickering to the wall behind him before he got up to push the chair even closer to Joel's bed. Squeezing his hand tighter, Tommy's front teeth caught on his bottom lip as he ignored his question, "How're you feelin'? The bullet caused you a pretty bad infection and you ain't out of the woods yet–"

Shaking his head Joel couldn't listen to any more of this, it wasn't important, "Where is she?"

Squeezing his lips together, Tommy finally looked at him. There wasn't a time when Joel couldn't read his brother, how he bit his bottom lip when he was nervous, the glint in his eye when he was teasing, or the barely there smile of gratitude he'd gotten so many times when they were kids and Joel had taken the blame for something Tommy had done.

"Tommy," Joel begged in only the way a man on his deathbed could.

"She's… she's alright brother… she's safe– she's sleepin'," Tommy told him with a friendly squeeze of his hand.

She's safe.

The words had a soothing relief spread through Joel's body and he sunk back into the bed. Knowing you were safe was like a switch had been turned off and Joel could finally relax.

He'd found his brother and you were safe. Joel could rest now.

His eyelids felt heavy then, and for the first time Joel noticed how awful he felt. The wound ached with every breath he took, and he felt somehow both like he was burning up and shaking cold at the same time.

"What happened man?" he heard Tommy ask, "You show up here– half dead and both of ya covered in blood. She won't say a thing, not to me, not to Maria… What am I s'posed to to think here, brother? That poor girl's traumatized."

Traumatized? No, Tommy said she was safe.

The word was like a trigger, taunting that thing inside of him that needed you, that thing that barked and howled to keep you safe, to protect you from everything cruel in the world.

"I need to see her," Joel said, moving to sit up. Unknowingly, he leaned his weight on his injured shoulder, sending a blinding shocking pain through his body. Gritting his teeth, Joel yelped in pain.

Tommy's chair screamed against the floor, and it hurt Joel's ears as he fell back against the pillows. Through his heavy eyes Joel watched his brother's face multiply and slowly fade away into black.

Traumatized…

No… happy.

You were happy.

Sitting across from him at the kitchen table with a steaming cup of coffee in your hand, you looked happy. Maybe a little tired, but tired in that drowsy Sunday morning way where the hours pass on their own.

Joel flipped the page of the newspaper in his hand, and in the corner of his eye he felt your gaze roll over him. The letters danced before his eyes like they'd been tossed randomly across the page. Squinting his eyes he tried his best to put them back together again.

"Forgot your glasses, old man?"

Joel could hear the laughter in your voice, and when he looked up at you you’d raised your eyebrow playfully at him. Behind you the early morning Austin sun streamed in through the kitchen window and stuck to every surface.

"Who you callin' old man, huh?" Joel teased and folded the newspaper, "Ain't what I remember you callin' me last night, angel."

Letting out something between a snort and a laugh you hid behind your coffee cup for a beat before you placed it gently down on the table. "Careful now, honey," you leaned forward on your elbows, "You don't want your daughter hearing you talk like that, right?" you whispered as you nodded towards the ceiling.

"She's sixteen– Ain't no way she's awake before noon on a Sunday, baby," Joel leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. 

He'd done it on purpose, and couldn't fight the smirk spreading on his lips as he noticed the way your eyes trailed over his biceps. When he cleared his throat playfully with a raise of his eyebrow, your eyes found his. Something like pride bubbled up inside him then, pride at having caught you checking him out.

When you realized you'd been made, you rolled your eyes at him and stood to your feet. With slow steps you rounded the table, stalking towards him with a curious glint in your eyes.

"So we've got what? 2 hours of alone time to kill?" You stepped between his spread legs, and Joel couldn't fight his hands from finding your waist.

"Somethin' like that," he smirked, looking up at you with moony eyes as your hands threaded through his hair. A wave of emotion washed over you suddenly, like a needle had popped the balloon of your happiness and your lips started to quiver.

"Don't leave me," you begged him, "Please don't leave me, Joel."

Outside, rain started pouring down heavily, drumming harshly against the windows. A panic started to bubble up in Joel's chest and he quickly stood to his feet to pull you into his embrace.

"What’re you talkin' 'bout, angel– I ain't leavin' you," he tried to wipe away the tears starting to stain your cheeks.

"It's too bright," you started to babble, "The light is too bright– don't go," you cried.

Joel tightened his arms around you, but the closer he hugged you the more it seemed like everything fell apart. The walls of his home crumbled around him, brick by brick tumbling down as they fell away into darkness. His hands clung to you tightly, but in his fists you sifted through his fingers like sand.

Traumatized…

The room was darker when he woke again, only lit by a small candle close to burning out. Turning his head slowly he watched how the wax had spilled out onto the weathered wood of the bed side table while the flames flickered shadows across the walls. It triggered a memory in the back of Joel's mind of a cave wall and your arms around him.

A crack in the door invited a line of light to cut through his bed. It was harsher than the candle, and it blinded the drowsy sleep from his eyes. Sitting up in his bed his head felt clearer now and Joel started to remember.

He remembered the cabin, and what he'd done. He remembered how the snow had blinded him, and the people he'd killed to save you– what he'd done to keep you safe. It all came back to him in flashes. He remembered how you'd taken care of him in the cave, and the face of his brother.

"… there are clearly things you don't know about Joel…"

Down the hall Joel heard echoing voices, and he could've sworn he heard your voice answer. Swinging his feet out of bed, the floor was cold underneath him. The pain in his shoulder had dulled to a small ache, but it wasn't important anymore, only you were– he needed to see you.

"… so then you understand my concern?""

Pushing the door open, Joel felt a smile tug at his lips when he spotted you down the hall talking to a woman with a baby in her arms. Joel tried to be quiet, to not disturb your conversation, but the woman with the baby noticed him quickly out of the corner of her eye. Following the woman, you turned your head towards Joel and when you finally locked eyes, a smile spread over his face.

"Joel?" you said, almost stunned, and stepped a little closer, "You shouldn't be out of bed."

Joel couldn't care less if he shouldn't be out of bed, especially not when you were finally walking towards him, the real you this time, not some twisted dream version of you that would fade away.

The woman with the baby called out your name, and with a quick look over your shoulder you stopped dead in your tracks. "We'll wait outside for you– ten minutes is enough time, right?"

Ten minutes? What was this lady talking about?

"Okay, Maria," you said with a nod, and finally closed the space between you. Joel watched as Maria vanished around the corner, finally giving you some privacy.

"Hi," he said, reaching his hand out to touch you, his voice deep and gravely from no use.

"Um, hi," you said, your eyes not meeting his as you ignored his hand, instead your hand found his back, pushing at him to go back inside the room.

"You need to get back into bed, Joel. You were really sick– you lost a lot of blood and the bullet caused an infection. We didn't think you were gonna make it," you told him, but your voice seemed far away like they'd been rehearsed.

"I'm okay, angel," he told you, sitting back on the bed, "I'm alright–"

"No, you're not, Joel," you cut him off with a strain to your voice.

It sent a jolt through Joel's body, it perked up his senses and he could finally see you clearly. The way your shoulders seemed to hike up over your ears as you crossed your arms around yourself. It should've been his arms around you– his arms to sooth you.

"What're you talkin' 'bout?" Joel forced himself to say.

"Nothing… I– I've been staying with Tommy and Maria– that's his wife," you informed him as you started to pace back and forth, "you'll get your own house when you're better–"

The way you moved about the room had his head hurting, he wanted you to sit down and look him in the eye the way you always did– he wanted you to look at him like he was a good man.

"You mean we are?" Joel asked, eyebrows pinched together as he tried to process all this new information. He figured they'd finally made it to Jackson, that you'd been rescued somehow out in the cold– his brother had been there, he remembered.

"No."

"Why?" Joel's voice was quiet and hollow, and finally you stopped your pacing.

With your back turned to him, Joel watched you take a deep breath, and the seconds that passed before you finally spoke felt like hours.

"Because…" you turned around and Joel could see tears push at your waterline, "I don't even know who you are anymore, Joel." A tear broke loose and ran down your cheek, "I didn't want to believe the things they told me about you, but they're all true…"

Joel's eyebrows met in a furrow as he stumbled to his feet, "Who're 'they', angel? What things?"

"Please," you sighed and stumbled backwards, "please don't call me that– don't call me that anymore."

Joel froze to the ground. You'd stepped away from him and he felt like a bad dog who's leash had been yanked. There was no reason for this, no reason for you to be afraid of him.

"I don't…" Joel trailed off as he sat back down on the bed.

"I know what you did Joel–" The way your face twisted with hurt, he knew exactly what you were talking about. All the blood on his hands, what he'd done to survive all those years ago when the world wasn't worth living in. "–I know it's true, a-and the worst part is that it could've been me and you know that– it could've been me and my family."

"I know, ang–" Joel stopped himself before the pet name slipped from his lips, "but you gotta understand I did what I had to do to survive… I ain't that man no more."

"But you are," you almost shouted, "I-I saw it with my own eyes– you k-killed all those people and you didn't even blink… like some kind of–"

"Monster."

Joel finished for you, and the poisonous word stained his mouth.

i hope someone liked this? i'm very curious about what your thoughts for the last part will be, so if you have them please leave a comment, reply or an ask. they are always super welcomed, and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

next part -> here!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[erysser]

SIBLING - TEACHER CONFERENCE

-> summary : in which Yuji gets into trouble and Sukuna is forced to deal with it. Fortunately, Yuji's pretty teacher makes it worth it.

-> pairings : ryomen sukuna x reader

-> a/n : big brother Sukuna + modern AU !! No curse AU 💔Both reader and sukuna are in their 20s.

Ring!

Sukuna furrows his eyebrows at the irritating sound, pausing the gory movie in front of him. His fingertips touch the screen, a scoff escaping as the phone continued to buzz, flashing an unknown number.

"Hello?" His bored voice says as he picks up, eyes moving back to the TV.

"Hi, Are you Ryomen Sukuna?"

"Yea?"

"Ah okay! You were listed as an emergency contact for Itadori Yuji. Um... It seems that Yuji has gotten into a bit of trouble today at school. Can you come in and handle this?"

Sukuna scoffs at the statement, rolling his eyes. He sucks his teeth as the words soaked into his mind. Yuji got into trouble? Was he trying to ruin his day off?

"Do I need to?" A stupid question Sukuna knows, but he really hoped that the person on the other side would say no.

"Um... yes?"

great.

"okay. I'll be there soon."

The call ends with a click and Sukuna grumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leans back against fhe plump couch. What a way to spend his day off.

☆

Your eyes move from the phone to Itadori who had been sitting in front of you for the last half an hour. It had been 20 minutes since you called his brother. His eyes don't meet yours, gaze firmly on the floor as he grips his pants leg tightly.

He didn't say anything. Shame obviously filling his head as he avoided eye contact. The normal chatter that filled any room he was in was gone. His face battered and bruised from the fight and his knuckles red and purple.

"Your brother is on the way," You repeat ; and he nods, not even looking up. You frown. The boy was almost your age and you felt terrible for him. It wasn't his fault. Yuji was always in trouble yes, but never for things like this... He was defending a classmate, yet he's the one to be punished over winning the fight another person created? It was stupid.

"I'm not mad at you," Your voice barely above a whisper, softness radiating off your tone. His eyes finally tore off his feet. A pang of guilt hitting you as he stared back with reddened eyes that shook rapidly.

He was crying.

"What the hell happened?" A harsh voice interrupts before you could even move to comfort the boy.

Your eyes widen, immediately moving to the door to see a tatted man leaning at the doorway. His gaze moves from his brother to you, eyes softening as he took in your appearance.

It was obvious that Itadori and the man in the doorway were siblings. The light pink hair was a dead giveaway. Yet, the man and Itadori were like the sun and moon.

The soft and caring features of Yuji were nowhere to be found on him, being replaced by a harsh and intimidating gaze that pierced the soul. His defined arms were littered with tattoos, no doubt continuing under his baggy t-shirt.

You feel your face heat up as your eyes lingered on him. Clearing your throat as you turn away, "Um, Yuji here, got into a fight."

Sukuna enters the room, his dark and clunky boots slamming against the wooden floor.

"Did he now?" He asks, pulling up a seat next to you. His tone calm though a hint of annoyance lingered in the air as he spoke. You nod, quickly rambling and explaining what happened to the tatted man.

Sukuna stares at your features as you rambled, eyebrows raised as he listened to your voice. A small smirks plays on his face as he watches your downturn eyebrows. Your concern, worry and care obvious from the way you described Yuji.

You couldn't have been any older than him, perhaps the same age. What was a beautiful person like you doing taking care of teenagers? You should've been going out with friends, chilling, clubbing and yet you reserved yourself to teaching? Sukuna could barely believe it.

"I'm sorry, did you catch what I said?" Your voice interrupts his train of thoughts as your eyes meet. He stares at you with a plain expression, a glint of mischief shining through under the calm guise he wore.

"Yea," He says, leaning back on his chair, looking at Yuji whose ears pinkened under the embarrassment. "This one always cause you trouble, huh?"

"What? No! no he-" You stumble on your words, jumping to defend the boy. Sukuna's eyes crinkle, humoured by your eagerness to defend the boy like he was your own brother.

"It's alright," Sukuna waves off, "Yuji, leave the room. I want to talk to your teacher, privately."

Itadori gives a confused look, staring dumbfounded at his brother who jerked his head towards the door. Hesitantly, he stood up and stepped out, casting a concerned look to you as he shut the door.

The silence echoes around the room and you shiver into yourself under Sukuna's heavy gaze. His eyes linger on you, moving his chair closer.

"I'm so sorry about my brother," He states slowly, not an ounce of remorse in his voice. "I think.. perhaps we should keep in contact just in case he starts any trouble again."

Your eyebrows shoot up at the words. Was he..?

"Excuse me?"

A smug smile creeps onto his face. "I mean, my grandfather is... senile at this point, and I'm the oldest in the family besides him, so.."

You raise your eyebrows at him, unimpressed by his words. You had met Itadori's grandfather before and to call him senile was an insult and a falsehood at its core.

"uhuh..." You hum, crossing your arms

You look him up and down, taking in his whole appearance. He wore a pair of baggy black jeans and a an oversized wrinkly grey t-shirt. His shirts wasn't low cut but you could practically make out the long tattoos that detailed his chiseled neckline.

"I don't know if that's quite professional," You say softly, feigning ignorance. He scoffs.

"Professional? What do you mean? I'm purely doing this for my brother's best interest," His lies coming off as sweet concern as he spoke.

What a liar.

You hold yourself back from rolling your eyes, a smile ghosting your lips. You eyed him for a while, thinking on the best course of action.

The man in front of you was awfully good-looking, it was practically sickening. Yet, he was your student's older brother... was it really the best idea to give him your number?

You frown at thought as he pushes his phone towards you, the empty contact staring at you expectantly.

You sigh, taking the phone into your hand.

☆

Itadori looks up as he hears the door click open. Sukuna's heavy boots click on the ground, a proud smile decorating his face as he stared at his phone. His eyes move to Itadori, gesturing for him to follow him as he walked off towards his car. He shoves his phone into his pockets, head held high as he walked. Itadori scrambles behind him, stumbling as he moves to catch up with his older brother.

"What's up with you? Why are you so happy?" Suspicion laces Itadori's voice, eyes narrowing at the abnormally happy man.

"Can't a man be happy?" Sukuna retorts harshly, rolling his eyes at Itadori. His hand reaches to the younger boys hair, pushing his head down as he ruffles it. Itadori didn't say anything, still eyeing him suspiciously.

Sukuna didn't say anything, his grip tightening on his phone that stored his now prize possession.

Your number.

[darlingshane]

once in a blue moon

Wolf!Frank Castle x Human/F!Reader

Summary: Your vivid, ominous dreams seem to carry a message you can't quite grasp until Frank spells it out for you.

CW: +18, explicit, werewolf au, supernatural elements, gore, violence, dreams, killing animals, eating animals' hearts, blood, food, cravings, eating, smut, vaginal sex, squirting, love, unplanned pregnancy, considering abortion.

Word Count: 4,2k

— Links: AO3 // Frank Masterlist

Following the ravenous calling of your stomach to satiate your hunger, you come across a banquet table sitting on a clearing in the middle of the woods. It's pitch black, but you can see so clearly under the soft glow of the full moon that hangs directly overhead. The ground is warm and green below the bare soles of your feet. The long white dress you're wearing almost touches your toes as you walk around the table to find an empty seat. There's only one chair and a big porcelain empty plate at the head of the table that's meant for you. It's not clear how you know, but you're sure that is reserved for you.

Your stomach protests harder the closer you get to your seat. The table is replete with a feast made out of the most delicious foods you can imagine. The scents mixing in the air from all the various plates is intoxicating. Your mouth waters at the sight of a tall, tiered chocolate cake. When you sit down, you extend your hand to take a piece, but before you can do it, a ferocious howl echoes through the trees surrounding the clearing, making the earth shake beneath. Your pulse quickens all of a sudden. Your head swivels in both directions until you see something emerging between trees at the opposite side of the banquet. It's Frank, slowly creeping in into the clearing, wearing his stunning wolf suit. His presence is both majestic and subtly intimidating. His thick fur coat is dark, nearly black, and shows a few greys around his muzzle. Between his sharp teeth, a white lamb hangs and squirms, trying to free itself from Frank's bite. You wanna reach out and help the creature, but the amber glare in Frank's gaze stops you from it. Before your eyes, he tears apart the little animal that dies in mere seconds. Perplexed at the scene, tears roll down your cheeks as Frank carefully removes the lamb's heart from its remains.

With the organ dripping red in his mouth, he then swiftly jumps on the table, his paws keenly avoiding touching any plate in the way. When he arrives at the head of the table, he lowers his mouth to drop the heart in your empty plate for you to consume. Your body trembles when he gently nuzzles your face with his snout as a silent order you can perfectly understand. You follow his command and pick up the tiny heart between your fingers as he watches you sink your teeth into it for the first time. He sits back on his haunches and stares at you, taking your time ripping a small piece out of it. Tears start pouring out again of your eyes as you swallow it. Frank remains unmoved from his position, expecting you to finish the whole meal he's brought you. After the initial bite, you keep going. Slow at first, and before you realize it, you've devoured the entire thing. Your fingers are covered in red, so is the bottom half of your face, and you've never felt more full and satisfied with any other food you've had before. The chocolate cake seems terribly unappealing to you now.

Frank looks so proud when he gets closer to you to lick the blood staining the corner of your mouth. It's strange how normal it feels to have him do that when he's in his wolf form. When he's done, he pulls his head back, and you see a different glare in his eyes. Something resembling sadness and remorse glares across his beautiful gaze. Like a sixth sense you've seemed to develop, you feel it in the now-full pit of your stomach that he doesn't want to do this. You extend with a hand to caress his head and put him at ease, but he promptly reacts, jumping on you, using his paws to push you off the chair. Laying on the ground, his sharp teeth flash across your eyes before tearing a chuck of skin off your neck.

You should scream, but you don't.

It should hurt, but it doesn't.

This should kill you, but it doesn't.

You remain awake the whole time while you bleed out. You stare at the moon above that seems to be watching over you like a guardian. It's striking white glow starts changing into a nice shade of blue while he rips apart bits of you.

It only lasts so long. Eventually, your eyes start feeling heavy as you capture the last beautiful moonbeams shining behind your lids.

There's a strange sense of dread that blooms in your chest when you stir up awake. You're back in your bed and realize that was one of the most vivid dreams you've ever had.

It's not even the crack of dawn yet when you look at the window. Full moon, just like in your dream, is still high up in its cusp, nestled between heavy clouds that threaten to break into a storm.

That sense of dread turns into something else. It's a little unsettling, but you can't explain why. It's an unfamiliar feeling, a mix of longing and fear, that's been rousing out of nowhere for a few weeks now. Every time it returns, it's grown bigger. You wish it away over and over, but it's pointless. It's burrowed somewhere out of your reach, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, attempting to calm yourself and settle you back to sleep. Maybe that's what you need. You try shutting all thoughts and voices in your head to clear your mind, but there's an invisible force that doesn't let you.

Frank is not back yet when you shift on the bed to see his side empty. Which isn’t unusual. Sometimes he comes earlier, and you find him sleeping at your feet in his massive wolf form. Other days, he just exhausts every minute of the night out in the woods and by the time he gets home he’s already turned to human. Today it feels oddly cold, and you wish your furry beast would be warming up your legs at this hour. You inch closer to the other side of the bed and bury your face in his pillow to capture the scent printed on the fabric. Smelling him eases that edge a little. You breathe it all in, letting it intoxicate you until you've completely calmed down.

It allows you to rest your eyes for a little longer and at the first signs of daylight, you slip out of bed and pad across the cabin to the kitchen to make some coffee before he gets back. You accidentally hit your pinky toe with the leg of a chair and curse your way through the space, but the pain quickly fades away. While the coffee starts dripping, you dive into the fridge to fix the rumbling of your stomach that is dangerously aching for food. Your hand automatically chooses a tupperware holding roasted chicken leftovers from the night before. Without thinking, you pull off the lid and start picking up cold chunks of meat directly from the container to quickly stuff your mouth and satiate that hunger that goes much deeper than you anticipated. At some point when you bite into the meat, you also nick part of your index finger with your teeth, but you can’t stop. Like in a bizarre trance, you continue shoving chicken into your mouth. When you look down at the container— first, you’re shocked you’ve practically emptied the whole thing to bare bones in record time, and second, those bones are now covered in the blood dripping from your finger. You find yourself licking it, tasting your blood like it was the most normal thing you’ve ever done. It leaves a metallic, sweated aftertaste that disappears as you nibble the last shreds of chicken.

A soft thud hits the sliding door to the porch. You put down the container on the counter, and partially tug the curtain to the side to find Frank behind the glass, still wearing his wolf suit.

“Sorry,” you say as you slide it open, “it was cold, and I forgot to leave it open.”

His massive head nods at you as he takes a full spin around you, sniffing your ankles before licking the finger of one of your hands, the one that’s bleeding.

It used to be odd, and scary, to see him like this in his true nature, but you’ve grown comfortable seeing this other side of him that you love just as much. He's kind of adorable to be honest. He looks like the most menacing creature that's ever lived, and yet you know he has the softest of hearts. You don't have to lean over much to place a kiss in the middle of his head. He smells like pine trees and dirt and something metallic you can't identify.

Like undoing a spell, once you pull back your head from the kiss, he shape-shifts into his human form in all his naked glory.

When you look at his face, his brow is pulled tight, lips furrowing between the coarse hair of his beard, as he takes a good look at you with nothing but concern.

“What happened here, sweetheart?” He lifts the hand he was licking, showing the blood trickling down your palm.

When you take a good look at it, the cut you ignored goes deeper than you thought or felt, half of the pad of your finger is hanging, and weirdly, it doesn’t hurt as much as it should.

“I don’t know.” You look back at the container on the counter. “I was hungry, and I think I bit myself.”

“That’s some hunger,” he scoffs, extending a hand to your face to wipe that same blood that’s staining your lips.

“C’mere, let’s clean it up.”

“I’ll take care of it. Go put some pants on.” You kiss his cheek and pat his shoulder before stepping into the bathroom.

You collect the first aid kit from the cabinet and then open the faucet to clean the wound. As water runs down your finger, wiping away all the red, you see the gash starts closing on its own when you carefully hold close the hanging chunk of your fingertip. It feels like you’re imagining it, but you’re not. The piece of flesh fully attaches itself where it should be, leaving a faint line where it ripped. You’re not sure why, but you tape a piece of gauze around your finger to cover it.

Then, you quickly glance at your reflection in the mirror to see yourself in a field with a semi-eaten heart held in your hands and your mouth and chin covered in blood. This must be another dream, right?

Fear creeps up your spine. You force your eyes shut, and back down on your feet, letting your back close the door.

Something is definitely wrong here. Are you turning into a wolf? That's the only explanation for the speedy healing, or the fact you barely felt any pain. But it can’t possibly be. You've taken a lot of precautions to avoid that. It's been a while since you last talked with Frank about turning. It's not something you wanted to do, at least not yet, and it never bothered Frank. You've managed to build a life on your own terms together, even if his former pack disagreed with his decision of choosing a human over one of their own.

“Baby, are you okay?” He knocks softly on the door.

“Yeah… Yeah, just give me a minute.” You try to keep your voice even, but it doesn't matter, cause Frank can pick up on anything.

When you glance in the mirror again, the picture you saw is completely gone and all you can see is yourself in your pajamas, with your own blood painting your lips.

You clean your mouth and pull yourself together before stepping out of the bathroom.

Frank is pouring himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, his bare back is in full display. He's put on a pair of grey sweatpants that are barely hanging around his waist. Quietly, you lock your arms tightly around his waist, capturing the heat of his body, pillowing your face between his broad shoulders.

“Is something going on, sweetheart?” he asks before tasting his coffee.

“Nothing's going on. I just got spooked, that's all.”

“You chew half of your finger,” he points out, turning around as you let go of his torso. “There's blood all over the chicken leftovers.”

“It's not that bad. Once I cleaned it up, it looked like a paper cut.” You don't understand why you feel like lying to him. If someone can help to figure this out, it's Frank, but you don't wanna know yet.

By the look on his face, you know he's not buying your bullshit.

“Okay, let me see.” He settles his mug on the counter.

“It's fine. I promise,” you scoff, showing your bandaged finger. “See? I didn't even need stitches.”

He holds your hand, seemingly taking your word for it, and gently places a kiss over the gauze. You then cup his face, and lean in to seize his mouth tenderly. His bushy beard scratches your face, as you melt together in a warm kiss. His arms curl around you, pulling you flush against his chest as your eager lips take a strong hold of his mouth. It's absurd how much you love him. You spell it with all you have— lips, teeth, and tongue that goes wildly untamed in the depth of your most deep desires. His mouth tastes so good, you forget how to breathe or talk or do anything other than isn’t this. There’s that feeling again, that unbearable longing that makes your whole body ache for Frank.

His hands quickly rise up to the occasion and wander all over your body. They slip under the hem of your shirt to claim every inch of your skin. He then gets a hold of your ass and with a strong grip he picks you up in his arms effortlessly. You curl your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist as he transports you to the bedroom without even watching his steps. His keen senses allow him to do that, which you envy sometimes.

Frank gingerly lays you on your back, yanks your pajama bottoms off you swiftly before nestling between your legs. He pushes his hardness against your sex and watches your expression change as his hips wave firmly to stir your arousal. Propped in one arm, he uses his opposite hand to push your shirt up and bare your chest. You grab the bunched fabric around your neck and remove it completely.

“Take these off, baby.” You then tug at the waistband of his sweats.

“But I thought you wanted them on,” he huffs.

“Changed my mind. Now, I need them off.”

He chuckles as he pushes them down just enough to free his erection. It feels amazing when he shoves his full hardness against your panties. Your center quickly heats up and wets at the friction. His lips are drawn to your neck, letting his beard drag all over your chest. Your skin promptly reacts, flourishing into goosebumps all the way, up from the crown of your head down to every last one of your toes. He groans and licks your body as he travels down your chest to suck your sensitive nipples. It makes you shiver in delight when he attaches his mount around one of them. Growing breathless, you slant your hips harder, needing him to fill your pussy the same way you filled your stomach. It's an unbearable craving that weakens you.

Frank quickly picks up the cue, and with a sudden move he turns your body around to have you laying on your stomach. He pulls your panties down, and adjusts your legs to make room for his cock. You place your head on the pillow, and hold tightly to it as he slots his full erection without trouble in one motion. You’re so tender and soaked, it feels like heaven itself is the one stretching your walls.

Frank’s body moves firmly, pushing repeatedly inside you, as one of his hands curls under your leg to caress your clit. His steady touch keeps you gripped to that mind-blowing shockwave of pleasure that starts forming at your center. It feels like a bubble of fire slowly rising up from the inside, setting your body ablaze.

“This is what you want, sweetheart?” he growls ferociously in your ear, biting your earlobe, while the erratic motion of his fingers, glued to your folds, drives you out of your mind.

You’re too out of it to respond with nothing but a strangled moan. All your senses but touch seem to disappear on you. Your sight blurs, your hearing can only pick up a faint buzz of his breathing, the only thing you can taste now in your mouth is lust, that smells just the same as Frank’s pillow that’s held under your head.

He attaches his mouth again to your neck. You notice his teeth dig harder on your skin to leave his mark, and you find yourself wishing he would rip it apart like you saw in your dream. The next second, you're suddenly trapped in a realm of unbridled desires, where you feel every cell of his body and yours fusing together as if they were one. For a moment, your pleasure becomes his pleasure, and vice versa. In your head, you swear you can read his every thought as if they were yours. His presence slips into your mind, stealing your darkest secrets. During that intense connection, you became aware of Frank's steady focus, driven by the only need to fill you with his seed. There’s something on that spot on your neck that he keeps latching on that’s sparking something in him that he hasn’t felt before. He wants to claim you, like he would do if you were a wolf, but he has the most utter restraint not to do so. As he pulls his head back, the link breaks. And you glance over your shoulder to see the glaring of his eyes turning bright amber, a shade that you’ve only seen a couple of times in his wolf form.

“Do it,” you beg desperately between moans as he rudely slaps your ass with his hips. “Please, Frank, do it! I need you to.”

There’s something feral that takes over him when you say that. His lip forms a snarl before bowing his head to bite that same spot as you asked. It reattaches that deep connection. This time, as he tips you over the edge, you can feel your arousal doubling down along with his. Your body is taken by the purest form of bliss you've ever experienced— It's yours and his melding together to create a powerful force that claims your body when your orgasm hits the highest point. You feel him feeling you with his seed at the same time your orgasm hits. Your shaking legs suddenly feel all wet after a gush of juices burst out of you. The sheets beneath you are soaked, and you can't tell if you've just peed or squirted, but it feels amazing. The weight of Frank's limp body on your back shifts slowly as he drags himself to the side. You curl against him, placing your ear to his chest, listening to the fast pace of his heart as his breath struggles to catch up, something you’ve never seen him do. He’s fucked you so many times without breaking a sweat, but now he’s utterly spent.

Closing your eyes, you doze off for a few minutes, and you're pulled back to your earlier dream… You’re laying on the grass, staring at a full moon that gleams behind a thick blue veil. Frank’s true wolf form is by your side. This time, he’s gently licking the wound he caused on your neck to heal it, as a smaller form of a wolf pup snuggles against your other side. You cradle it with your arm to keep it safe, and you love it. You love it with your whole heart as much as you love Frank.

“What happened?” you mumble when you come back to reality. You're laying on your side of the bed and Frank has wrapped you with a blanket. It feels like you've been out for ten minutes, but the day has turned to night when you look out the window. “How long was I out?

“You've been sleeping all day.” He's sitting beside you, holding one of your hands as he removes the bandage around your finger to see it has completely healed. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Your eyes well up. “I got scared. Am I turning?”

“No, you're not turning, sweetheart,” he reassures, placing a kiss on your forehead. “My blood is in your system, but you're not turning.”

“How's that even possible, Frank?”

“Can't you feel it?”

You shake your head, as he cups your jaw in his palm.

“You're pregnant.”

It feels so odd to hear him say those words that you can't process the thought of him being right.

“But I thought that couldn't be. I thought that you and I could never… you said it was impossible for wolves and humans to reproduce.”

“That's what I always believed. That’s what I was taught.”

You can see he's just as confused as you are at the prospect of you carrying a half wolf baby.

“Then, how? Are you sure that I am?”

His palm slides down to your abdomen. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure. I could feel it for a couple of days, but I couldn’t really tell until now.”

“Were you in my head?”

He nods. “Sorry, I didn't know that was possible with you.”

“Don't be. I loved feeling you like that. Is this how this always is with other wolves?”

“Yeah, it can be pretty intense.”

Frank tries to force a smile but his unreadable, restrained expression concerns you.

“What are you not telling me?”

He looks away, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Frank?” You sit down and cup his face, moving it so you can lock eyes with him. “I might not have your skills, but I can tell when you’re hiding something.”

His gaze veers down to see his hand gently curling around your arm as he draws patterns with his thumb on your skin.

“I called a friend from my old pack when you were asleep,” he confesses with a crushing heaviness that pours out of his despondent tone. “She's a doctor. She said you can't have this baby, that it's a curse placed on wolves like me that detract from their packs. They can never conceive with humans except during blue moons, it's a small window that happens every two or three years.”

“How is it a curse?”

“Cause it'll kill both of you. It won’t happen right away, but eventually, no matter how much you give him, it’ll never be enough. He’ll starve you before it’s born, and he’ll die with you. It’s happened a handful of times that she knows of.”

“Oh,” you utter, still struggling to catch up with all the information that's hard to assimilate.

“I'm sorry. This is my fault. I did this to you. But I promise I’ll fix it.”

“How?”

“She has a clinic a few hours away. She’ll see us tomorrow. Said it was better to do it before it’s too late.”

“Get rid of it? What if we don't?”

“What do you mean? Haven't you heard me? You can't carry this pregnancy.”

“I heard you. But what if there's another way. What if you turned me? Would that work?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know if that would work. If you wanna have a baby, we'll figure out a way to do it safely, but I'm not taking that chance here cause I don't wanna lose you,” he pauses with a long sigh. “I always thought you didn’t wanna be like me.”

“I never said that. I wouldn’t mind being like you if I had to. It just always seemed too scary.”

“It is scary. How about we just take a breath. We have the whole night to think about it, we’ll meet her first thing in the morning and see what she tells us, alright?”

“But I saw it in my dream. He curled up on my side.”

“I saw, baby. It was beautiful.” He leans forward, touching his forehead to your own, sliding his palm at the back of your neck.

“I know it’s crazy, I feel insane for even thinking about it, but I’d like to try.”

Against all your fears upon death, an irrational thought produced by that strange feeling that’s most likely a cocktail of hormones mixed with whatever it’s growing inside you crawls to your mind. You should listen to Frank; but the more you think about it, the less you want to let go of that picture you saw of you and Frank and that small wolf pup that was just a bundle of love.

— credits: divider by @cafekitsune

[candycandy00]

I was literally salivating when I saw your 2k follower event (congratulations btw!!!) and had to send this. Your writing is fucking amazing and I can't wait to read more of your stuff!

Character: Dabi

AU Setting: Monster Forest

Spice Level: NSFW

Mood: Light

Kinks: Breeding and size difference

Blood Moon Rising - A Dabi x Reader Fanfic

Smut. 18+. AU. Dabi as a werewolf. Fem Reader. Breeding. Size difference. Werewolf related biting/blood. 

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! Any feedback/comments/reblogs would be loved! Dividers by @benkeibear!

You run through the forest at top speed, branches and twigs scraping your legs, tearing your dress. The night air is crisp and cool against your face, though the rest of your body is sweating beneath the layers of satin and lace. Above you, the full moon glows an eerie red. Blood moon, they call it. 

On nights like this, he hunts. 

You hear leaves crunching behind you, sticks snapping in the distance, an otherworldly howl among the trees to your right. A creature like him could attack from any direction. That’s how fast he is. 

You should’ve known better than to try outrunning him. Your weak human legs can only carry you so far, so fast, before they lose strength. Your fatigued feet catch on an unearthed tree root, and your body tumbles to the cold, damp ground. You’re lying on your stomach, panting, trying to get to your knees at least, when you hear him directly behind you.

Turning your head slowly, you look back. Even in the dim, red tinted moonlight shining through the trees, you can see him clearly. He’s taller than a normal human, his body toned but lithe beneath the thin layer of solid white fur. His face is mostly human, but with a slightly elongated nose and mouth, rows of razor sharp teeth visible in his grin. His eyes are a bright glowing blue, like two burning sapphires. His long fingers are tipped with terrifying claws that look like they could shred steel. 

You roll over so that you can face him, still lying on the ground. 

He stands over you, a low rumbling growl emanating from his throat. “I agreed to stop hunting the villagers since you volunteered to be my prey,” he says in a ragged voice, “but you’ve gotta make it worth my while, doll.”

You look up at him with a pouty expression. Touya is your childhood friend, one you fell in love with in your teenage years and have wanted to marry since you both hit adulthood. But you’ve never had the courage to confess your feelings. You might flirt with him, but so far he’s either oblivious to your intentions or is purposely ignoring them. 

When he admitted to you that he’d been bitten by a werewolf and now turns into one on every full moon night, you were of course very worried. He has dubious control over himself when transformed, and a powerful urge to hunt and feed. He killed several of the people in your village, though he targeted specific individuals. A man who was known for beating his wife. A woman who made phony medicine and sold it at exorbitant prices to sick, desperate people. A man who raped a young girl and received no punishment because he was the richest man in the village. 

But Touya was running out of bad people to hunt, and twice he was shot at by terrified villagers. So you approached him with an idea. He could hunt you, chase you through the woods and get it out of his system, and you would count on your long friendship to keep him from killing you. 

The first time, he clawed your leg, and the sight of your blood spilling brought him back to his senses. He clearly felt terrible about it. The second time, he almost bit you, but was able to hold himself back. The third time he tore your dress, almost ripping it off you before he got himself under control. You’re not sure what he intended to do, but you suspect his urge to mate is stronger in wolf form too. A part of you wished he would have kept going. 

For the past few times, his control has generally been better. Not always, but usually he just chases you down, catches you, and then the hunt is over. 

Tonight, he caught you faster than ever. There’s a strange gleam in his eyes that’s usually not there, and from his voice you can tell that he’s struggling to maintain control. Could it be the blood moon? Is it making his wolf instincts stronger? 

“Sorry,” you say, still on the ground, leaning back on your elbows. “You were too fast tonight. Are you okay?”

His eyes are moving over you, and it sounds like he’s breathing a little harder. “I’m fine. It’s just… the urges are really strong tonight. Maybe you should get back to the village.”

“But you’re not satisfied, are you? I can run again. Just tell me what to do to help.”

His shining blue eyes widen slightly. “Doll, you don’t wanna know what would help me right now. Just go home while I’m still in control.”

You stare at him, at the muscles flexing beneath the soft white fur. He’s wearing nothing but ripped black pants. God, you want him. You can’t satisfy his urge to kill, but maybe you can satisfy a different urge. 

While looking him in the eyes, you reach down and slowly slide your dress up your legs, revealing your thighs. 

He seems to stiffen, his eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

“I want to help you. If using my body will calm the urges and keep you from attacking the village, I’m okay with it,” you tell him. You don’t say it out loud, but you’re afraid he’ll be shot at again. 

He scoffs. “You don’t know what you’re offering. I’ve never done anything like that in this form. What if I lose control? I could hurt you.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, pulling your dress higher, bunching the fabric at your waist and showing him your lace panties. 

The pupils of his lovely eyes seem to shift, looking more like long slits than circles. His clawed hands flex and clench at nothing. “We shouldn’t do this,” he mutters, sounding extremely unconvinced of his own argument. 

“Let me satisfy your urges,” you tell him, opening your legs. 

He’s breathing hard and fast, his eyes looking completely inhuman now. “Fuck… I’m gonna rip you apart and devour the pieces!”

With that alarming statement, he lunges forward, his larger than normal werewolf body suddenly upon you. His claws make short work of your dress, reducing it to useless strips of shredded satin that cover nothing. Only your thin panties remain, a pitifully flimsy barrier against his animalistic strength. He tears them off before you can even blink. 

You’re equal parts thrilled to finally have the man you love on top of you, and terrified that you’ve made a mistake and he’ll literally eat you. But when his hands begin exploring your exposed flesh, you notice he’s being careful to avoid injuring you with his claws. Even though he’s in his most beastly state, looking crazed and out of control, he’s trying his best not to hurt you. 

His mouth is on your neck, licking and sucking the rapidly bruising skin before moving down. He makes a wet, hot trail down your body, tasting various parts of you, until he pauses between your thighs. His eyes flick up to your face, and you look back at him with flushed cheeks and parted lips. You buck your hips from the ground just slightly, an encouraging gesture. 

He grins, showing off entirely too sharp teeth, and then his head dips down to taste your sweet nectar. You moan, your back arching reflexively as his warm tongue massages your clit. You feel the edge of a tooth, not biting, probably accidentally scraping over you. The thought of this being that hungers for your flesh having his teeth so close to your most tender place excites you. 

“So fucking delicious,” he murmurs against your skin. 

Your hand moves down to sink into his soft white hair, and you can feel the silky fur of his body brushing over your bare thighs. “Ahh… Touya!”

He pulls away, leaving you breathless as he tears open his already frayed pants. You try to get a good look at his cock, but in the darkness of the forest you can only see a vague but massive shape as he pushes your knees up toward your chest. And when he pushes it all the way inside your tight, dripping pussy, you can feel the velvety fur around the base of it. 

It’s a painful stretch, but his movements are careful, surprisingly controlled, even as he pants above you. His hands are on the ground beside you, his claws digging into the dirt, his eyes gleaming with predatory lust as he looks down at you. His thrusts begin slowly, but gradually become faster when your arms wrap around his neck. He’s reaching the deepest parts of you, all the while growling softly. 

Suddenly, the growls grow louder, and you realize he’s almost snarling. You look up to find him baring his teeth. His mouth opens, lunges down toward your shoulder, but stops before biting. He pulls back to look at you guiltily, but doesn’t stop thrusting. 

“This is dangerous,” he says. “You should be afraid of me, so why do you look so…”

He doesn’t finish the question, his eyes staring into yours. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” you tell him, hands on his face. “I’m in love with you. I have been for years.”

You hear his breath hitch, see a light pink blush cover his face as his eyes look away from yours. “D-don’t tell me shit like that when I’m buried in your pussy! Gonna make me lose what little control I have!” But then his eyes shift back to you, and in a voice so low you barely hear him, he says, “I feel the same way. Always have.”

His cock pulses inside you, and you clench around him in response, making him growl again. “Touya,” you moan, “bite me!”

“What? I can’t do that! If I bite you, you’ll be like me!”

You look up into his glowing eyes. “I want to be like you! We’ll be werewolves together! We’ll hunt each other and mate under every full moon!” You feel your own pleasure building as you speak, like you’re on the edge of a cliff, about to fall over. “Oh god, I’m close, Touya!”

He growls again, his instincts battling with his emotions. Then he yells, “Fuck! This is gonna hurt like hell, so don’t blame me!”

In the same instant you cum around his cock, spasming beneath him, he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, tearing the flushed skin. You feel warm blood pouring from the wound as you tremble through your orgasm. Touya’s tongue laps at the ripped open flesh, his teeth still bearing down. You scream, from the pleasure and the pain, your arms clutching him. 

You hear him moan as he tastes you, and he thrusts in so incredibly deep as he cums inside you, filling you to the brim.

His teeth finally release their hold on your shoulder and he pulls his face away but remains inside you. He stares at the wound, and a mixture of guilt and arousal flash through his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

You move your arm slowly, and feel a stab of agony in your shoulder. “Ahh, how long does it hurt?!”

“For me it was a few hours. Then it healed like magic.” He leans forward and gently licks the wound. Strangely, it actually seems to help. “We should bandage it though.”

At this point he pulls out of you and climbs off, looking slightly awkward. “I hope you’re sure about this. There’s no going back now.”

You raise up on your elbows. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

His eyes rake over your nude body, then he holds out his hand to you and grins. “That’s good, because you’re stuck with me from now on.”

You laugh as you take his hand and let him pull you up by your uninjured arm, eager to begin your lives as two werewolves in love. 

Tags:

@doumadono 

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXXIII)

Chapter 33 : ‘The scent already in the air’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! A quiet chapter after the party… Siobhán and Saoirse are back!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2536

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

The spring haze. The scent already in the air. The moon and ume.

Matsuo Bashō

It was Spring. Soon, there wouldn’t be students anymore roaming the corridors of the large buildings, laying in the grass to drink in the sun the way you did now. Soon, there wouldn’t be anyone left on campus to watch the blooming branches of trees bathed in sunlight, softly swaying with the breeze. Sitting on a bench, you watched the busy life at Trinity go by. You spotted some of your students sitting on another bench nearby. You couldn’t picture it, the campus empty, quiet, without students around. A shame. Such a shame, really. Seeing all this empty. It was so lovely to see the old buildings buzzing with life, and joy, and laughter…

“What are you thinking about?”

Andrew’s voice brought you back to earth, and you looked at him again. His hair kept in a messy bun after a long day. His voice a little hoarse after giving lectures all afternoon. His glasses slipping a little down his nose. He looked lovely. He looked gorgeous, actually… with the sunlight making the green of eyes shine through their brown hues, the kind smile on his lips, the soothing effect of his voice, the freckle above his eye, the red in his beard under the sun, and simply… him. Him in general was a beautiful sight.

You shrugged, but he tilted his head, silently encouraging you to speak again.

“Just… that it’s sad to think that this year is about to end. I’ve never seen Trinity empty. It must be so strange to work here when no student is around.”

Slowly, Andrew nodded, humming softly.

“Yeah… it can be… erm… disturbing, I would say. But there’s no need to be sad about that. In October, there will be plenty of students again.”

“I know… still… it’s my first year teaching here, so… it felt special. Seeing it ending feels special.”

“I understand. We should go out for a few drinks then, on the last day! It will be good craic!”

You nodded, enthusiasm back in your smile. But soon enough, you were heaving a sigh again.

“Damn… we only have a week left before the wedding. And we’re not closer to getting it cancelled.”

A pregnant pause, the birds took advantage of it to sing a little more loudly. Or perhaps you were simply waiting for Andrew to speak, longing for his voice.

“Would that be so bad, though? If they really got married?”

You refused to ask yourself that question, you were too afraid of the answer your heart would summon.

“Of course!” you replied, sitting straighter. “Of course…”

Andrew didn’t say anything. Slowly, he nodded, his expression blank, but you noticed the way he clenched his jaw, so tightly the muscle there jumped.

Still, his voice was unbearably soft when he answered.

“Alright. If that’s what makes you happy.”

But then he was looking away, blinking repeatedly and blushing, and you didn’t know why. He started rubbing at his neck, but you focused on the flowers and the trees again, trying to ignore how fast your heart was beating whenever Andrew looked at you.

“Are you coming to the rehearsal for the ceremony?” you asked him, voice weaker than you wished for it to be.

“Are you?”

“Frank asked me to be there.”

“But do you want to go?”

You pushed that question away. You were too scared to face the answer.

“I need to be there.”

Slowly, Andrew nodded.

“Sam asked me as well… Alright, I’ll be there too.”

A week. A week, that was all there was left before the wedding. What would happen then? You had a choice to make, but you were too scared for now… Working seemed safer.

“We should go back, we need to get ready for the conference. I can’t believe it starts tomorrow…”

“Don’t mention it. I’m freaking out.”

“You’ll be brilliant, Andy. You’re ready for this.”

“I hate this. This is the one part of my job I truly hate.”

“But we need to go through it, or we won’t have any money for our research and we’ll get fired.”

“True… but maybe I could just… drop everything and go hide in a monastery in the Himalayan mountains?”

You laughed, bright and happy like the sun that shone upon you.

“I highly doubt it’ll work out for you.”

“A shame… Sounded so much better than that lecture though…”

“Come on, I need your opinion over something.”

You and Andrew finally got up, walked back to your office.

Meanwhile, on a nearby bench, Saoirse was taking in the view, and thinking that the flowers in the trees were particularly gorgeous gorged with sunlight, that the sight of Trinity buzzing with life was a sight to see.

“Can you imagine what this must look like during the summer?” she asked Sean by her side. “It must be so weird, to have no one around.”

“It must be quiet,” he nodded.

“I’m so stressed about the exams.”

“You’ll be brilliant. You always are.”

She blushed at the comment, hoped he wouldn’t notice. Sometimes he said things like that, things that made her heart warm and restless; and she didn’t know what to make of it.

“You’re going home for the summer?” she asked, and Sean nodded.

“All the way back to Kerry. Gonna help my folks at the bakery. I’ll come back in September.”

“I’ll miss you.”

Their gazes met.

“I’ll miss you too, Saoirse.”

She liked it when he said her name. It sounded soft on his tongue. Like he was careful with it, like he tried to protect its vowels and consonants.

“I’ll call you all the time,” she warned him.

“I expect nothing less. You’re so damn talkative.”

“And you’re too quiet!” she nudged him, their laughter playful.

There was a pause, when Saoirse listened to the rhythm of the university, the busy conversations and the laughs, and the treading of feet on the pavement…

“Please, call me. Every day,” Sean whispered, and she could barely hear him, but she did. “I’m gonna miss you. I really am going to miss you. Don’t forget about me.”

“I will. I promise I will call. And forget about you? You’re too insufferable for that!”

They chuckled, and she pretended to ignore how his pinky finger brushed hers.

“What will you do after the exams?” he asked, tilting his head.

“Eat something disgusting, like… a burger. And then… sleep for a whole week. If you could do anything after the exams, what would it be?”

“Hmm… I don’t know… just… not caring about exams and grades and lectures will be enough really. Can you believe we’ve almost survived our first year?”

“I wouldn’t have done it without you.”

“I wouldn’t have done it without you either, I’m so glad we’ve met.”

“But… What about you? What would you like to do once exam season is finally over?”

She saw him struggle to swallow, and she wondered why he seemed so nervous all of a sudden. On the bench, across the tiny space between them, his finger reached for hers again, and she didn’t move away.

“I… There’s this girl I like.”

His confession came out of the blue, took Saoirse completely by surprise.

“I’ve… liked her for a while. A long while. But we were busy with studying, and I was really afraid she’d reject me. But I… I’d really like to take her on a date, once we don’t have to worry about exams, grades and lectures.”

Her lip trembled, she did her best to hide how much his words hurt. And she didn’t have any right to be upset in the first place. Because she was the idiot who had caught feelings for her friend, and they weren’t together, he was free to date anyone, and she should have told him sooner, now it was too late…

“Right… you definitely should! I’m sure she’ll say yes!”

“Will you?”

She looked at him again, frowning.

“Will you say yes?”

“What?”

He took a deep breath, but didn’t back down.

“I like you. A lot. Ever since that first day when you helped me log into that stupid computer. I like you. Would you… would you go on a date with me? After the exams?”

Saoirse’s heart was pounding, she had butterflies not just in her stomach but all over her body at this point. She blinked tears away, nodded.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’d really like that.”

“Grand!”

“Grand.”

They looked at the busy life that went on before them, at students and teachers hurrying towards classes and lectures and long hours of work.

On the bench, in the tiny space between them, their fingers touched, intertwined, held, and didn’t let go for a long, long time.

You were brilliant out there.

Andrew was staring while you spoke. He knew already everything you would say, you had rehearsed your speech several times with him. Still, you seemed so at ease. Of course, he noticed from time to time your shaking hands, but your voice was unfaltering, your explanations clear and convincing, your study flawless. You were so fucking brilliant. And Andrew was in awe.

The perception of feminity in the Irish Literary Revival. That was the title of your session. It went from comparing female and male authors, to pamphlets over women’s rights, to the allegory of Ireland under the features of Cathleen Ni Houlihan in Yeats and Lady Gregory’s famous play. Andrew loved it. Every second of it…

After your perfect presentation, you answered questions, about your interpretation of texts, about your sources, about the notions you developed in your speech. You went through them brilliantly.

By Andrew’s side, Siobhán was grinning.

“She’s impressive, isn’t she?” she whispered, and Andrew could only agree.

“Very.”

She was staring at him, and Andrew wondered why. He frowned, silently questioning her. She smiled, something amused on her features.

“I like you, Andrew. You’re a nice lad.”

He quietly chuckled.

“Thanks… you’re good craic too.”

“You should tell her, you know?”

“Hmm?”

“Y/N’s brilliant, but she’s also a little thick sometimes. You should tell her how you feel.”

Andrew looked away, blushing fiercely. And he stared at you again, how you stood there on that stage, talking calmly, being your smart self.

“If you start bugging me about my personal life, I will do the same to you,” he warned her under a false menace.

“Hmm… do you have any bad boys I could like?”

He winced.

“I’m afraid not. Only nice ones.”

“Ha… nope! These are the most dangerous ones! They’re the ones I could get attached to, for real.”

“I’ll give you my best friend’s number then. I’m sure you and Alex would get along fine.”

“Not interested, especially as you’re simply changing subjects.”

He remained quiet for a moment, staring at you. It was almost overwhelming, how much he admired you, how much he loved you…

“Is it that obvious?” he asked Siobhán, but his eyes remained locked onto you. “That I have feelings for her?”

“Yeah… sorry to break it out to you, but you’re not exactly hiding it well.”

“Damn…”

“Tell her. You should tell her.”

“I don’t think she’s ready for that. She still wants Frank.”

“She doesn’t want Frank. She wants the life she thought she would have with Frank. She’s ready, even if she doesn’t realise it yet. And she likes you.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

Siobhán shook her head.

“Christ, the two of you are driving me insane, you are so fucking blind…”

Andrew blinked, stared at you as you answered yet another question.

Was he really blind? Did he really stand a chance against Frank? Against the life he had once promised?

Could you really like him that way?

This was ridiculous.

Andrew read his own poems in public. He played guitar and sang in public. He gave lectures for students every day of the week…

And yet there he was, about to throw up the tiny piece of bread he had managed to swallow this morning. He could feel his heart rushing, his palms sweating, his face grow paler and paler by the minute.

He tried to breathe, he really tried. But the only thing he could think of was the same phrase, going over and over in his head, like a mantra; only, an evil one.

You can’t do this, Andrew. You’re not good enough for this.

He was on the verge of a proper panic attack, and he knew it. He couldn’t get on that stage and talk in front of hundreds of his peers, in front of people who knew literature and poetry better than he did…

“Andy?”

He heard your voice behind him. You must have just come into the office. But he couldn’t look at you. It was hard enough to simply focus on not choking up…

“Andy? You’re okay? You’re breathing funny…”

That was because he could barely breathe at all at this point… at least he wasn’t crying. He simply needed to calm down, control his breathing…

How was he supposed to do that?

He felt your hand on his arm. Touch gentle, yet firm enough to anchor him in the present, in reality, in his office, instead of his busy head.

“Andy… breathe. Take deep breaths. You’re okay. You’re okay. Is it because of the conference?”

Slowly, he nodded, letting air escape his lungs.

He could see himself fail, again and again the scenario played in his head…

“Andy, you’ll do great. We’ve rehearsed this. You know exactly what you’ll say.”

“I can’t remember a thing.”

“Of course, you can. We’ve rehearsed this. You’ll do great. You’re ready, Andy. It’s alright.”

You rubbed soothing circles into his arm, and Andrew didn’t think that you were aware of how good it felt, but it did. It soothed him, the pressure on his chest wasn’t so strong anymore.

You took his face in your hands, forced him to look at you.

“You’re the smartest person I know,” you spoke in a quiet, gentle voice but it was determined as well. Andrew’s heart did a happy jump at your words. “You’re a brilliant poet yourself. You can talk about modern poetry. You do it every day. And you do it so well. We’ve rehearsed this. So, you’re gonna get out there, and explain your points one by one, and you’ll be amazing. Okay?”

A smile tugged at his lips. His skin was burning under your touch. He didn’t feel so lost anymore.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.”

“It’s your fault anyway.”

“What?”

“You were too good yesterday, you’ve set the bar too high for us mortals.”

You chuckled at that, shying away.

“Thanks… but I thought you were the un-dead one, and I was the mortal in this relationship.”

Relationship… did you know what your words did to him?

“True… but you were too impressive yesterday. You’re up there with the Gods.”

“Stop!” you laughed, playfully swatting him on the shoulder.

“I’m not joking! You were brilliant. You were… You are so fucking smart.”

“Well, now it’s your time to shine. So, let’s go. Professor Hozier-Byrne, you have a lecture to give.”

He smiled, nodding.

“Then, lead the way, Professor Y/L/N. Lead the way.”

[deityoftherain]

Traffic Life Superpowers AU Memes pt.1

Under the cut are a bunch of memes and silly character dynamic posts that I've made for my au, some from the perspective of being in universe making memes about their city's local superpower scene on the internet and some by us in our reality, under the cut that I posted in my discord server. There are spoilers for the fanfics in the series above, you have been warned!

Name Quick Guide hero villain vigilante/other civilian (look at #traffic life superpowers au or click on their name for more information on their powers and etc)

Tango is a vigilante named Phoenix Scott is a villain named Starflower Pearl is a villain named Scarlet Moon Lizzie is a hero named Shadowlady Etho is a hero named Slab Joel is a hero named Helter Skelter, or Hel Skel for short Skizz is a semiretired hero named Skizzleman BigB is more of a semiretired, private sector hero named Tip Martyn is a villain named Knight Ren is a villain named The Red King Cleo is more of a floater but is working with the heroes as of now named Zomblaze

Grian is a civilian working for the Traffic City Hero Agency as a therapist Scar is a civilian working at an animal shelter that he owns

Scarlet Moon and Starflower are a villain duo called "Galaxy Duo" The Red King and his Knight are a villain duo called "Dogwarts" Shadowlady, Slab, and Helter Skelter are a hero team that often work together

more memes

even more memes

masterpost

I love them all dearly <333

[overly-dramatic-artist]

On the Horizon - prologue

Hello friends! As per the voice of the people, the Wild West au is being written into a fic! I’m still building the world and some plot details, but here is a small little appetizer of a prologue! Thank you for all of the love and enthusiasm that you have shared with me about this au!

The memories of this town remain, like the grains of desert sand caught in the folds of leather boots and saddles. Nothing truly leaves this place. The plant may be plucked, but the roots that get ripped by the stubborn ground are trapped, not unlike the years spent in innocence under the scorching sun and surrounded by the unforgiving mountain range.

You pull on the reign, effectively halting the steed hauling your small wagon you sit upon, as you see the more defined structures of Aurora Springs come into view against the glowing sunlight that sinks lower against the purple mountains. There’s an ache in your chest, a tightness in your lungs as you breathe in the dry air, remnants of your past rushing forward like a dust storm, unyielding as the laughter of childhood wonder and honeyed words of your mother embrace your subconscious.

Her final letter sits in the tight space between your chemise and vest, over your heart and folded just as it had remained for the past 6 years.

And on the opposite side against your hip is your father’s holster and pistol, tucked discreetly into a deep pocket of your skirt.

A letter of love. An object of protection.

The only pieces you had left of your parents that had driven you to abandon the notion of mercy.

You had become a product of this desert, unrelenting and unforgiving.

………..

Some things in life never change. The out of tune piano across the bar. The shattered glass window that has been long since in need of repair. The suede leather chaps Sun had worn for years. The casual look of disdain on his lunar counterpart’s face as patrons yap and jabber. And of course, the unfounded and quite frankly stupid belief of man that this time for sure he will win.

With a round of loud groans and laughs, Sun collects his winnings from the table, much to the anger of the drunk man who had refused to fold before losing everything.

“So sorry, gentlemen, looks like I win again,” the sunny automaton says, the faux-sympathy of his synthetic voice further riling his red-faced opponents.

The man with the heavily oiled mustache and britches two sizes too short frowns, spits at the floor and stands with a screech from his chair.

“You been counting the cards! Ain’t right for a cheater to win.”

“Come now, good sir, I renounce rule-breaking. If you truly thought me a cheat, you shouldn’t have played the game.” Sun tilts his grin towards the man before slowly standing to his impressive height, one hand cradling over the grip of the pistol in his leather holster. “But I suppose we could always settle this like proper men…?”

The glint of the low bar-lighting on the silver gun that hits the angered man’s eye is enough of an answer, and the loser leaves in a huff, stomping away from the table.

Not long after settling all bets and debts, the lunar and solar automatons leave, saddling up their horses roped in the stalls.

”No need wasting a gunshot for the sake of petty cash,” the dark one says, his red eyes reflecting on the black rim of his hat, stomping the last embers of his cigar into the ground.

“You of all should know I don’t take well to being called something so despicable as a cheater,” Sun playfully shoots back. “Besides, I could get a couple rounds more with what I won.”

Moon clicks his teeth at his partner, adjusting the rifle slung over his back before signaling with the reins for Astraea to start moving. The horse brays, leading Calliope to follow.

As usual, the lunar bot remains silent for the ride through town, keeping his gaze forward. Sun was good at filling the silence, or at the very least, making the pair seem slightly less intimidating to onlookers. Their line of work came with that deadly connotation, and they lived up to their titles, but a bit of charm and camaraderie was useful for keeping the townsfolk in good favor. A nod to the miners coming back from the canyons, a wink at the courtesans on the corner.

Passing one of the bulletin boards by town hall, Moon pulls the reins to a halt with a hum. Sun looks where his partner is fixing his eyes, an identical smile pulling his lips. On the rotting wood bulletin is a newly pinned poster. A wanted poster. With an intriguingly high priced bounty wanted alive.

“I was looking forward to a weekend fixing that fence in the east pasture…” Sun says, pulling the poster down, letting his fingers trace over the details of the pretty face printed in ink, “…but I can’t pass up such an offer.”

His lunar lover laughs with a shake of his head.

“Does it say where they last were?”

“Stormridge, headed west.” Sun passes the paper to Moon. “Could already be here in town.”

The red-eyed bot hums, pulling a cigarette from his coat pocket and lighting it with the exposed wire on his wrist with a hiss. He lets his systems take in the smoke, the tarry buildup caressing the roughness within his casing. With an artificial exhale, he looks back at his partner.

“I suppose we should go get those rounds then.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Ahhhhhhhh!!! I hope that is enticing and intriguing for a beginning!

And for anyone who hasn’t seen this au before, here are some of my sketches for it 💖

[yumeaoka-chan]

Hunger Pains

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Reader/ Ghoul! Hobie x Human! Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Tags: Tokyo Ghoul au, Blood, Ghoulified Hobie, no physical description of reader, can be read as gender neutral reader, scared reader, badass Hobie (I'm really not good at writing fight scenes, ugh), cursing, death (not as bad as you think), lovesick reader, lovesick Hobie, hungry boi Hobie, "The lion falls in love with the lamb" basically

Summary: You go to visit Hobie after not hearing from him for weeks.

A/N: Credit for the lovely banners goes to @the-shroom-garden !!! Late entry for week 3 of Octobie, I'm sorry @the-kr8tor 😭🤚 I got sick outta nowhere, so I'm currently laying in bed as I post this😔 I was going to write a Baldur's Gate 3 au but, the angst potential of Tokyo Ghoul kept screaming at me😭🤚

Taking a deep breath, you knock softly on the door, the houseboat calmly rocking on the water.

“Hobie? Are you in there?” You call out, a frown forming on your lips as you notice no lights are on inside. It's eerily quiet, especially at this time of night. You knew you should've waited until the morning. Tears sting your eyes and you inhale shakily, trying to will the feeling away. Hobie has been distant lately, almost as if he was avoiding you. If you call, he doesn't pick up. When you went to his band practice, his bandmates claimed he wasn't there. And when you went to his favorite hiding spot, the rooftop of a small local music shop that overlooks the city, he was nowhere to be seen.

Just when things were going so well, you thought to yourself as you slowly made your way off of his boat. You and Hobie had been friends for what felt like forever, being together through most of Primary school and all throughout Secondary. Even now, while you are enrolled in college, you two are thick as thieves. Throughout the years, your fondness and admiration of him had slowly formed into adoration and, dare you say it, love. You were in love with him, had been in love with him for quite a while. And just when you had worked up the courage to tell him how you feel, he practically ghosts you.

Walking through the shortcut through the alleyway to get to your dorm, you don't notice the set of eyes watching you from the rooftops, too busy lamenting over Hobie and what you could have done to push him away. The late night streets are silent, not a single soul out due to the frigid cold of the winter breeze. Shivering, you pull your jacket tighter around your body, sniffling from the cold or tears, perhaps. As you trudge on, you suddenly hear something behind you. The faintest of footsteps, the most quiet of chuckles. The very sound makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, goosebumps raising on your arms. Taking a steadying breath, you keep walking, albeit quicker than before. No good would come of acknowledging the sound, that much you knew.

The footsteps draw nearer still, making your heart begin to pound in your chest. Your pulse quickens, your breath hitches, and you suddenly forget to remain calm. Zipping and darting through the deserted streets of London, you try to lose your pursuer through the series of backstreets. Fear grips your chest as you hear the footsteps grow even closer, the chuckles now turned into cackles. How could you be so stupid? Walking around this late, knowing full well that they lurked in the shadows. You want to cry when you slam into a tall metal gate, hurriedly looking over your shoulder. That's when you see him. Tall and broad and practically frothing at the mouth, the long blue appendage coiled around his arm gleaming under the light of the moon. His grin is unhinged, eyes glowing red with pulsing veins surrounding them. When they meet your gaze, you can see the eagerness in them. It makes you let out a fearful cry as you scramble to climb over the gate.

A hand suddenly grips your foot, making you slip and cut your palm open on the sharp metal. You let out a hiss and you struggle to free your foot, fear clawing its way into your chest. The ghoul behind you inhales deeply, salivating at the scent of your blood oozing down your arm.

“Been so long since I had such a good looking meal. I'll savor you, little lambchop.” He cackles as he wrenches you away from the gate with one strong tug. You yelp as you fall down harshly onto the ground, your nose the first to collide onto the asphalt. Head swimming from the impact, you hardly register the crimson dripping from your nose, eyes blearily looking up at your captor with horror. And as he pried open his dripping maw, you could see your life flashing before your eyes. Every joyous moment, every harsh disappointment. And yet, no memory shined brighter than those that involved Hobie. You were going to die before ever getting to reveal your feelings to him. Lips wobbling and tears falling, you gazed at the face of your demise and whispered the one you wanted to see most.

“Hobie…” Just as quick as those words left your lips, the ghoul in front of you was viciously ripped away. Eyes wide with shock and disbelief at the sudden rescue, you blink up at the figure suddenly standing above you. His back was turned to you and sprouting from it were eight long, sharp, spider leg like tendrils. They were as red as the darkest of wines and glowed brightly, illuminating the alleyway. Squinting your eyes, you could see the faint outline of his head, the hair on his head making you gasp. Not just the hair, the clothes too. The leather jacket on his back and the boots that adorned him were all too familiar. Sitting up a bit, your lips tremble as you utter his name.

“I-Is that you… Hobie…?” Hearing his name on your lips is like a godsend everytime, but not this time. Not when you're shaking like a leaf from fear. Hobie grits his teeth as he turns to look down at you, hearing the sharp intake of breath you make when you see his eyes. One brown and one a glowing red, angry red veins surrounding it. He gives you a placating smile before turning his head back to glare at the ghoul that's now standing across from him. The taller man snarls, spit flying from his lips as his coiled appendage glows brighter.

“You filthy One-Eyed! That's my dinner! I called dibs!” Crouching low and spider-like appendages curling around his form, Hobie glares harshly at the other.

“Touch a hair on this one's head and I'll fuckin’ kill you”, he utters lowly, voice on the edge of a growl. The taller ghoul cackles and points his finger at Hobie, eyes wild and sharp with mania.

“That right? I'll just devour you before I feast on the lambchop's flesh then!” With a roaring shout, the crazed ghoul rushes at Hobie, his sharp coiled appendage aimed straight for his chest. Fury rumbles in his chest as Hobie dashes forward to meet him, his deadly appendages shooting forward to harshly stab the ghoul's shoulder. The broad man howls with pain before twisting his body free of them, arm moving to swipe at the other's chest. Wincing as he feels it slice through his shirt and graze his skin, Hobie uses his appendages to propel himself into the air, before viciously bringing them down onto the man's head.

The fight goes on for several minutes, your eyes darting to and fro as you try to spot Hobie in all the madness. They're both quick and every blow you see him take makes you grip your chest, scared that he'll die in this violent whirlwind. Your heart hammers in your ears and it feels like the bloody battle drones on for nearly an hour. There's dust as they kick up and crack the asphalt beneath their feet, making it impossible to see through. Stumbling on your feet, your ears pick up the sudden wail of pain that rings in the air. It's silent then, the dust slowly clearing.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly walk forward, stepping closer to where you can hear the sounds of harsh panting. Just as you step into the circle of dust, you see a glowing red eye staring back at you.

“Don't!” Hobie's booming command rings in your ear and your body seizes up almost automatically. As the dust finally starts to settle, you can see how he grips his right side, blood flowing through his fingers. His other hand is held out in your direction, palm facing you in a clear indication for you not to come any closer. Hobie's face is scrunched up in a painful grimace as he watches concern flit across your features. He adamantly shakes his head, feet slowly backing away from you.

“Don't”, he says, softer this time, like he can't mask the agony that colors his voice. “P-Please just… don't…” He can't take it, can't take how good you smell. How good your blood smells. Skin that he knows would be so soft beneath his fingers, so giving as his nails dig into your arm, leaving marks that would never fade as his lips descend onto your neck. Hobie closes his eyes as the very image seers inside of his brain. It's so vivid that he can almost taste it, taste the way your skin gives beneath his teeth as he gorges himself on the divine banquet that is your flesh.

“No, no, fuck, no…”, he mumbles to himself, hand that was held out to you now gripping his hair. He tugs on the coarse hair, biting his lip so hard that he breaks the skin. “Not Star… Not my Star…” Because how could he ever think to harm you, his Star, his light in this oppressed world? Just the fact that he even imagined tainting you, defiling your body with his disgusting, atrocious hunger… Tears slip down his cheeks as he feels the gaping blackhole in his stomach nag at him, begging him to feast on you, the one he loved most. Because what is love if not to consume and be consumed in return?

You weren't blind to his internal conflict, seeing the way he leered at you before stumbling back, farther away from you. Taking a step forward, you're careful to avoid stepping on the body of the dead ghoul in front of him. Hobie's head shoots up and it makes your heart ache, seeing the waterfall of tears cascading down his cheeks. He's shaking his head furiously as he stumbles back slowly and you steel your resolve, even as he yells and curses at you. Shouts of “No, stay back” and “I'll hurt you, please stay back” ring in your ears and with a heavy heart, you press on. Hobie's back is pressed against a brick wall by the time you come face to face with him, his lips trembling and long legs shaking slightly.

“Hobie”, you breathe out softly as you press a shaky hand against his cheek, making him shudder. “Hobes… Is this why you've been avoiding me…?” His face twists into a visibly pained scowl as he clenches his eyes shut. Taking a careful breath, he slowly nods his head. Fear releases its icy claws from your heart, leaving only tenderness and concern for the man before you. You wait patiently as he calms his frantic breathing, the appendages surrounding him slowly retreating into his back. When he looks at you again, you see his brown eyes glistening, the hunger still lurking beneath the depths of his lipid pools. You give him a small smile, acceptance shining in your soft gaze.

“Tell me everything. From the beginning, okay?” Is what you whisper to him. Hobie can't help but bask in the bright light, the shining beacon that is you. It's then and there that he's determined to find a way to put that sickening hunger to sleep for good, his love for you stronger than his beast.

“It's… a long story, love…”

[naffeclipse]

Lone Mistletoe

Reader x Rich!Sun & Moon

Commission Info

This request was made by the darling @deliasmoothie for a little Christmas date centered around her Rich Boys AU and a reader who owns a bakery! After a late closing, the reader gets a visit from millionaire heirs Sun and Moon and a reminder that they have a very special evening planned. The lovely artwork is done by @deliasmoothie as well! Enjoy, and Merry Christmas!

———

You’re late.

You scramble to put away the dough that will rise softly through the night in the storage area. The clatter of baking sheets echoes over the faint jingle of Christmas music which plays in the entrance of the bakery. Gathering bags of empty flour that were left undisposed, you throw those into giant waste bins and rush to clean off counter tops before muttering under your breath that the front needs to be swept lest customers enter tomorrow morning and find dirty floors.

A glance to the clock quickens your already frantic heart rate. You should already be out the door, dressed for a fine night of dining and whatever plans your dates may have. Oh, you’re going to be disappointing.

A nervous perspirant begins under your pits as you frantically fly through closing chores. Your employees would usually be more than happy to finish everything up without you, but one called out for the day citing a family emergency, and the other needed to go home early for the sake of a sick child. You are left to stack up the jars of ginger spice and vanilla used in gingerbread men and Christmas cookies respectfully and set them where they belong. 

The minutes turn into half an hour. You’re going to melt into a puddle on the floor but you won’t allow another mess to be made when you just finished sweeping. Snagging your phone after leaning the broom against the wall, you begin punching in a quick text of explanation and apologies when the front door opens with a soft jingle from the welcome bell. 

You curse under your breath. You should have locked it by now if your mind wasn’t cutting through the checklist of things needing to be done.

“I’m sorry,” you call out as you walk to the counter. “We’re closed—”

You stop short, the breath caught in your throat.

Two handsome animatronics stand in the lobby of your bakery. Among the Christmas decor of candy canes stuck to the window and boughs of holly hanging along the walls, they stand in glamor and confidence.

One animatronic sports a crown of sun rays around his head, sharp and brightly yellow, with a grin to match. His pale blue optics lack the sunglasses he would so often sport during summer. He wears a stylish long coat of red, with a white shirt sporting a high collar, and brown slacks, all done in a bold and daring style. The other holds a crescent marking upon his face, half silver, half dark, with a deep blue nightcap trailing down his back decorated in stars. He dons a black coat, simple yet striking, and a deep blue turtleneck sweater and dark trousers. They share matching figures of lithe limbs and slender waists, their clothes accenting every handsome part of who they are.

Your dates.

Most importantly, the heirs of a national billion-dollar company. 

“Sweetie pie?” Sun laughs with equal affection and concern. His blue eyes are wide upon you. “Are you alright?”

Your hand immediately flies to your hair. It is a mess of wisps and strands escaping from the messy bun you had it pinned into today. 

Moon looks around the shop, his brow quizzical, as if searching for a threat before his gaze rests on you. His expression softens. 

“Sun, Moon? What are you two doing here?” Your attention slips past them to the open windows. You quickly rush forward. They step apart to let you fly between them, and watch as you quickly yank down the blinds and lock the front door. 

They can’t be seen here. Your bakery is small, hardly a blip on the map, and people don’t know who the heirs are dating—though the tabloids have speculated who their newest beau may be. 

You made it clear to Sun and Moon when they first asked you out for a little coffee date over this very same counter that you would go with them because you enjoy their company, not the names they carry nor the fortune they hold. The public, however, will assume the worst: you’re in it to make your bakery known and catch more sales. Or perhaps, the opposite. The heirs are lording over you with their black credit cards, enticing you into their demands. 

Neither is true. Regardless, you don’t want them spotted here with you, alone.

You turn around and huff a breath, pushing a wisp of hair back from your face.

“Cinnamonroll, you are late for dinner, and the restaurant is only a few blocks from here.” Moon steps forward, his hands reaching for you. His pale pupils track you with a gentle study. “We were concerned.”

You keep trying to power walk back behind the counter but another set of arms stop you gently.

“Sweetie pie, breathe for a moment.” Sun stands over you. His hands hold your arms gently, keeping you in place. “It’s alright. They’re not going to withdraw our reservation.”

He gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You flush, bowing your head slightly. This was not how the evening was supposed to go.

“I’m sorry.” You confess what happened throughout the day, losing your employees one by one until you were left to close. 

“Do you need any help?” Moon steps closer. He brushes a hand against your cheek. When he draws his touch back, you find pale flour on the tips of his silver digits. His grin is mischievous but sweet when he chuckles. “Messy little treat, aren’t you?”

A deep pink fills your face as your heart swoons within you.

“No, no,” you shake your head fiercely, “I mean—I’m done, I just… Can you give me a few minutes to get ready?”

“Of course,” they answer in unison.

You look between both of them, a sweetness filling your mouth as your shoulders lower in relief. You dust your hands together. With that, you fly behind the counter and to the upper floor where your apartment is located. 

Dinner is waiting.

*

Dinner is, as always, incredible. You’re not sure how Sun and Moon find the most delicious—and expensive—restaurants but they manage to surprise you each and every time. Of course, you almost fall out of your chair when the bill is brought and Sun flips out a sleek, black credit card without glancing at the numbers to resume asking about your thoughts on the holiday season—and how you would like to spend it. Moon in the same fashion orders a few desserts for you to try at your leisure while candlelight softly flickered over the table.

Now, you walk softly between them, both of your hands occupied by long and large digits cradling your gloved hands. The air nips at your nose. Snow litters the park plaza as around you, people skate on an ice rink set before a towering Christmas tree and couples huddle close together, sipping hot cocoa.

You have to crank your neck back to take in the majestic glow and glitter of the decorated tree in the pitch black evening. Lights twinkle like starlight and golden garland wraps its thick, evergreen limbs. Tinsel shines like silver against its emerald dark hue. Ornaments, large and painted in rich blues, greens, and reds, hang to the edges.

Sun and Moon shelter you in their warmth. Their coats, made of fine material with brand names that look far too French and expensive to be something you ever hope to possess, drape against you. Sun lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your knuckles. Moon rubs your palm, ensuring you keep warm despite the frigid night.

To your relief, no one seems to notice them. Of course, it helps that you and your dates are swallowed up in scarfs and hats, but you find yourself prickling with slight anxiety while glancing around. It’s the same nervousness that has plagued you throughout the entire evening.

You feel your best when you’re alone with Sun and Moon, with no eyes upon you, judging and deeming what is right and what is wrong. All you know is that it feels good when you hear them laugh or they ask you how another busy day was at the bakery. 

That should be all that matters, but your self-conscious fears are a niggling thing in the back of your mind.

Moon shares a glance with Sun, who gives a slight nod. He then suggests taking a walk further down the park, where there are less people gathering under the light of the tree and watching the ice skaters.

You’re more than happy to.

A few little shops are sprinkled along the path turning deeper into the snowy covered park. Moon asks if you would like hot cocoa or a new pair of ice skates. You politely decline. Sun says they might need to buy you a new coat since you’re shivering so much, but again, you shake your head with a smile.

They like to give. This is not a manner of ego and flaunting, but a manner of kindness, you’ve learned. 

The soft silence is muffled by the white frost decorating the ground. Moon and Sun clutch your hands a little tighter whenever patches of ice pop up along the sidewalk. In the peace and stillness, your eyes fall upon a snow-white arch down the path you take. Hung in the center of it, tied with red ribbon, is mistletoe. 

Your ears warm despite the sub-zero temperatures. Glancing between your dates, you nervously rub at their fingers. Sun and Moon slow, their eyes landing on the very same plant.

“There is something we can give you, sweetie pie,” Sun declares as he begins to stride forward, pulling you along with him.

“Oh, Sun,” you try to protest while struggling to hide your flustered tone. “What if someone sees?”

“It’s only us, cinnamon roll,” Moon rolls low over his tongue. “Don’t worry.”

You blush fiercely. Reaching the white arch, Sun and Moon stop. Your heart beats heavy within you while softly, Sun face faces you. Moon slips behind you, his touch resting on your hips. You begin to warm despite the chill, afraid you look pink from head to toe. 

You trust them both. A certainty clings to you that you are safe in the quiet of the night and the cold of the snow so long as you have them.

Sun cups your cheek in his palm. His gaze glimmers gently while he leans in closer. You find his hand and tuck it over your heart, clinging to his fingers as if you’re afraid to lose him. Maybe you are. 

But every thought within you fades when his lips touch yours. He pushes gently into your affection. A slow pull of his mouth teases you before he returns to reassure you that he is here to stay. You taste him. Confidence and want burn together in how he effortlessly strokes your cheek and tilts your head slightly in his soft fervor.

Pulling back, he sighs while brushing his thumb over your lips. You hold his gaze despite the heat in your cheeks.

His hands rest on your shoulders. Moon, however, gently twists your hips until you’re facing him. Sun’s hands remain on you, falling down your spine. 

Moon’s gaze is warm and heated in the dark. Under the mistletoe, he leans in closely as he takes your chin in his hand. Head tilted up slightly by his touch, your lips part. He leans closer, hovering above your mouth while his eyes study the shape of it. 

His optics close as his mouth claims yours. You follow into the sweet darkness, your head tilting back at his firm but rich affection. He pushes and pulls against you as steady as the tide. His other hand remains on your hip, stroking you softly underneath the layer of your coat.

When he breaks the kiss with reverence, you breathe out mist. Floating upon a hazy, sweet cloud, you drift between their celestial bodies as they cuddle you close under the mistletoe. 

“Merry Christmas,” they whisper to you, one voice in each ear.

You hum a happy sound.

“Merry Christmas.”