#and did repurpose what i could into other chapters!

[gailynovelry]

It's kind of incredible, noticing how many scenes / moments I cut from Shadow Herald and yet still remember as core pieces of context for how the story works.

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 2. the journal

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: Your memories still remain out of reach, so you ask Joel to tell you a bit about yourself, and with the help of a journal you kept, you begin to learn more about the person you became in the past ten years, leaving you with more questions than answers.

Chapter Warnings: language, eating, alcohol use, angst, pining, sad!Joel, amnesia

WC: 6.3K

Series Masterlist

"Did'ya get any sleep?"

You glanced up at Joel as you walked side by side towards the dining hall.

"No," you admitted, looking straight ahead again.

After Joel left you in his - your - bedroom, instructing you to rest on his way out, you found you could do anything but. Your mind was spinning with all of the information you had just learned, and you weren't sure which topic consumed you more: the end of the world or the supposed love of your life.

The longer his words set in, the more you were finding it difficult to look at him. It was such a strange feeling, having this large, burly, gruff man proclaim his love for you, to say he would stop at nothing to make you feel the same way, to insist you were meant for each other. It seemed so out of character, though you hardly felt like you knew him. But even now as you walked down the street, you noticed how some of the people in town glanced at him. Moving quickly out of his way.

It wasn't just you who found him intimidating.

You were distracted as you walked, curiously peering into storefronts and repurposed buildings when a group of children playing a game of tag nearly ran into you. At the last moment, Joel tugged your arm, pulling you into his side just in time. The children seemed to realize their mistake because their laughter quickly stopped and the smiles fell from their faces as they looked up at him.

"We're sorry, Mr. Miller," a young boy no more than eight years old said.

Miller. You never even bothered to ask his last name.

Joel just grunted and they scurried away, no doubt eager to escape his glare. You chanced a look at him, studying his stern expression when you realized he was still holding you against him. He was warm. Warmer than you expected. And solid. You cleared your throat and stepped away from his grasp, muttering your thanks and glancing around the busy street to avoid the disappointed look in his eye when it became clear you weren't comfortable with him touching you.

You shoved your hands in the pockets of your jeans and continued to walk in silence down the main road. A few people shot you curious looks or did double takes as they walked by, and you had to assume if Ellie heard the news about your accident, then others had, as well.

The Tipsy Bison came into view at the corner of the street, made obvious by the large crowds of people gathered outside.

"Does everyone have to eat here or are you allowed to have food in your homes?" you asked him, and he looked down at you, surprised by the question.

"We got food. It's not like a prison or somethin'," he said with a chuckle. "Most folks like to come here to socialize, but sometimes we cook dinner at home," he stopped short when he realized he never asked you what you preferred. "Did'ya wanna stay home instead?"

"No, this is fine," you told him over your shoulder.

"You sure? Maybe it's too much right now," he replied, jogging a bit to keep up.

"I'm sure. You won't leave me, right?" you asked, looking at him nervously.

"'Course not," he said, trying to hide his grin. He liked that you wanted him around, even if it was only because you didn't know anybody else. It was a start.

When Joel swung the door open, holding it wide so you could enter first, it might have been your imagination but you thought the loud chatter simultaneously died down for a split second. Then Joel stepped in beside you and the volume rose once again.

You wanted to look around and take in the rustic atmosphere but you could feel the eyes on you as Joel led you through the crowd, the scrutiny making you feel extremely out of place, so you kept your gaze pinned straight ahead. Following dutifully behind, you watched as people automatically moved out of his way, like he was Moses parting the Red Sea, until he reached a table in a somewhat quiet corner of the dining hall. He pulled out a chair and stood behind it, his hand still resting on the back, and it took you a second to realize he was waiting for you to sit so he could push it in. You quietly thanked him then finally looked around the room.

The dining room had tables scattered around, and as far as you could see, they all appeared to be taken. People were standing in groups, drinking and laughing and eating and you wondered how in the world your table wasn't taken. You were about to turn and ask when an older man approached your table.

"Hey guys," he said, pulling out a pad of paper from his pocket. "What'll it be?"

You went wide eyed for a moment, looking around trying to figure out what your choices were when, much to your relief, Joel spoke for you both.

"Still got any of that stew left?"

"Sure do. Few guys got lucky earlier today, too. Got two deer, so we'll be havin' more soon," he replied, jotting something down on his paper. "Two whiskies?"

Joel was about to nod when you spoke up for the first time.

"Just water for me, thanks," you said, and the man nodded his head.

"Thanks, Seth," Joel said as he walked away.

You glanced at Joel quickly, awkwardly catching his eye. It felt too much like a date. Dropping your gaze to the table, you tried to think of something to say.

"Probably a good idea, skippin' alcohol," he said. "Didn't even think about it, what with your head and all."

"Yeah," you said, your hand coming up to gently touch the stitches. "Besides, I don't like whiskey, anyway," you added. Joel laughed softly as he watched you shift nervously in your chair.

"What?" you asked with a frown.

"Nothin'," he replied, still staring at you in disbelief. "Just ever since you got here you've been tossin' back whiskey better than most of the men. You must've gotten a taste for it at some point."

"There's no way," you said, scrunching your nose when Seth put down Joel's glass in front of him. He stared down at it wistfully, swirling the amber liquid in the glass, lost in thought.

"Whiskey's how we first met," he said softly, still staring at the glass. You tilted your head towards him, waiting for him to continue. "When you first arrived, you were like a caged animal. You came here lookin' to blow off steam," he said with a distant smile. "It was a slow night. Just you and me and a handful of others. You were tossin' that shit back like it was nothin'."

You watched him as he reminisced. His eyes shone brightly and a small smile played on his lips, it almost felt like you were intruding on something special.

"When me and Ellie first arrived, no one really went outta their way to talk to me. I preferred it that way. Was used to bein' on my own," he continued, looking up at you now. "But that night, you sat down next to me at the bar like you had been waitin' for me or somethin'. You asked me if I was drinkin' for fun or drinkin' to forget. Those were the very first words you said to me."

You were completely silent as he spoke. The way he told it, it felt like you could see the scene playing out right before you, the way he remembered every detail left you in awe.

"What did you say?" you asked a little breathlessly.

The corner of his mouth twitched and he looked down at the table.

"Drinkin' to forget."

You waited for him to elaborate, but when it became apparent he wasn't going to, you asked him another question.

"Then what happened?"

He raised his eyebrows and hummed, a slow smile stretching across his face before he answered.

"You told me you could help me have fun and help me forget," he said, and you could feel the heat instantly flush your cheeks.

"Oh, my god," you murmured, covering your mouth, utterly mortified. "Please tell me you're joking."

He shook his head, still smiling at the memory. You glanced around the room, trying to look anywhere but at him.

"So then, did we...?" you trailed off, gaze still fixed on a spot on the wall.

"Oh, yeah. 'Course we did. I'm no saint," he chuckled.

"Jesus Christ," you said, burying your face in your hands. "That doesn't sound like me at all."

"It's not. Well, not anymore. You had an edge to you when you first arrived. Most do. Survivin' out there does that to you," he said, taking his first sip of whiskey.

You sat in silence for another minute, contemplating asking him what he knew about your life before you met him, but ultimately deciding against it. Maybe another time.

"Where's the bathroom?" you asked him, and he pointed down a small hallway near the bar. You thanked him, his eyes trailing after you as you made your way through the crowds, only dropping his gaze once you were no longer in view. It was a strange thing, recounting stories for you like that. At first, the memories made him smile, but once he saw the lost look on your face he felt the sadness creep back up, settling deep in his chest, and he wondered if he would ever get you back.

You knew you were in the bathroom too long. You knew he would likely be worried, but you just couldn't stop staring at your reflection in the mirror after you washed your hands. Who was this person staring back at you? She looked older and weathered and tired. Your fingertip gently prodded at the bags under your eyes and then a small scar on your chin. What happened to you out there to make you the person Joel was describing? What did you have to do to survive? And did you really want to know the answer?

The door swung open, startling you as three girls around your age entered the bathroom. Their giggles stopped when they saw you and you watched them exchange glances in the mirror before a pretty girl with long, blonde hair greeted you by name. Turning around, you gave her a smile, hoping they would go about their business so you could slip out of there, but of course the pretty girl wanted to talk.

"We heard you had an accident, are you okay?" she asked, and she sounded sincere, but something about her smile made you think twice.

"Yeah, got a few stitches but it should be fine," you said, your eyes flicking to the other two girls, giving them each a smile. They looked at each other and smirked before heading towards the bathroom stalls, leaving you with just the blonde.

"So, is it true? Did you really lose your memory?" she asked, her voice low as if it were a secret, and finally you were able to pick up the vibe. You had been to high school before the outbreak. You had encounters with these types of girls before. Friendly to your face, vicious behind your back.

"Uh, yeah," you admitted, and she gasped as if she felt bad, but you saw the way her eyes lit up.

"So you don't remember, like, anything?"

"Well, I remember before everything went to hell," you told her, "but I don't remember this place, no."

"Oh, wow," she said, and you heard the toilets flush before the other two girls exited the stalls, grinning conspiratorially at the blonde. "So you don't know anybody here?"

You shook your head, feeling uncomfortable with the line of questioning at this point. What was she really getting at?

"That must mean you don't remember Joel, right?" one of the girls at the sink piped up. You looked at her briefly over your shoulder and shook your head, turning back to the blonde but not before you caught the look in her eye.

"Oh, that's too bad," she said, giving you a pout. "Does that mean you aren't together anymore, or-"

Suddenly, the door swung open and Ellie stormed in. Her hard gaze drifted around to the three girls and she gave them a look of disgust.

"Scram, vultures," she told them, and the blonde made a face at her before flipping her hair over her shoulder and heading to one of the stalls. Ellie called your name and you scurried over, allowing her to lead you back out into the dining room but not before she gave the other two girls a few choice words.

"Don't talk to them, they're nasty," she told you as you weaved your way through the crowd. Joel's eyes instantly found you once you were in view and you saw him straighten up in his chair.

"You okay?" he asked, and you could see the genuine concern in his face as you sat down. You were about to answer when Ellie plopped down on the other side of him and spoke first.

"Angie and her little sidekicks cornered her in there," she explained, rolling her eyes. "Already sniffing around for scraps."

"What do you mean?" you asked her, but just then Seth arrived with your meals and you never got an answer.

"Stew again?" Ellie asked, scrunching up her nose.

"It's good," Joel told her before taking a bite. You looked down at the bowl and you were inclined to agree with Ellie, but you swallowed the food down anyway, just grateful for something to eat after such a long day.

"Aren't you going to eat?" you asked her, noticing she hadn't ordered anything and instead was busy sketching in a journal.

"Nah, I'm going to Dina's later, I'll eat there," she explained without looking up.

"Who's Dina?"

"Oh, my girlfriend," Ellie explained, glancing up at you briefly. "Sorry. I still can't get used to this. It's so weird you don't remember."

"Don't be out too late. You got school tomorrow," Joel reminded her. Even though he wasn't Ellie's father, he seemed to have quite the knack for being a dad.

"Yes, sir," she said sarcastically, giving him a weak, two-fingered salute before hunching back over her journal. You heard some familiar giggles coming from somewhere behind you, and when you turned to look, you locked eyes with the blonde girl from the bathroom - Angie - who was holding some drink in her hand, her two friends flanking her sides as she strolled past your table. Her eyes drifted briefly to Joel before she passed by, then turned her attention to her friends, disappearing into the crowd.

"Who is that?" you asked, realizing you never really got much of an explanation. Joel and Ellie responded at the same time.

"Nobody."

"Joel's ex."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as Joel glared at Ellie.

"What? She woulda found out eventually," Ellie protested.

"She ain't even an ex," he said, turning to you now. "Just a mistake I made one time before you even got here," he insisted. The tone in his voice made it sound like he was trying to reassure you there was nothing to worry about, but of course, the information didn't phase you.

"Okay," you replied with a shrug. He examined your blank stare for a moment, searching for a glimmer of recognition. The disappointment in his expression every time something like this happened was becoming too much to bear, so you dragged your eyes off him to glance around the crowded room once again. You found Tommy leaning against the bar and you stood up.

"Where are you goin'?"

"I need to ask Tommy something," you said. "I'll be right back."

His eyes followed you as you pushed your way towards the bar, his heart feeling like it was going to break. He wasn't exactly looking for you to have an overly jealous reaction to hearing about another woman from his past, but your casual indifference hurt more than he expected. When you first found out about Angie, you insisted you weren't jealous but the way you sneered at her going forward, combined with giving him the best sex of his life later that night told him a different story.

"You think she'll ever get her memory back?" Ellie asked, still focusing on her drawing. Joel sighed and dragged his hands down his face.

"I don't know, kid."

"What'd you need to talk to Tommy for?" Joel asked once you both arrived back to his - your - home. You had wandered into the kitchen, Joel hot on your trail.

"Oh, I just had a question about something I saw when we were out there today," you explained, and he raised an eyebrow for you to continue. "There were dead bodies when I came to. They looked all decayed and... subhuman. Now that you told me about the infection, I wanted to ask."

Joel watched you open and close cupboards until you found the glasses, then picked one out to fill with water.

"So you ran into some runners," he said, and you nodded. "Did he happen to mention how you hit your head?"

Your hand froze, your glass halfway to your lips as you considered his question.

"Actually, no, he didn't," you said, setting down the glass and looking up at him.

"Yeah, he didn't really tell me, either," he replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "When he told me you hit your head and you were havin' trouble remeberin' things, I just came runnin'."

Guilt washed over you yet again as you thought about Joel being told the news and how panicked he must have been. He practically ripped all the exam room doors off their hinges to find you, only to be met with a stranger when he finally did.

"Well, I can ask him tomorrow," you finally said, putting your glass in the sink to avoid looking at him.

"Yeah," he replied, trailing off a bit. He was still lost in thought, trying to remember Tommy's exact words when you walked past him towards the stairs.

"You're tired?"

"Well, it's been a long day," you told him, pausing on a stair to look back down at him.

"Right, 'course," he said, shaking his head and following you up. When you got to the doorway of his bedroom you paused, looking up at him. It seemed like he was struggling to say something, his mind working hard to find the words, but instead he just gazed down at you, brown eyes all wide and soft.

"Don't suppose anythin's comin' back to you yet?" he finally asked, and you hated seeing that look. That same hopeful look you kept seeing right before you opened your mouth and crushed him. This was hard for him, you knew that, but the way he kept looking at you was making things so much worse. The pressure you felt to become this person he was expecting you to be was overwhelming. You opted to drop your gaze to the floor and slowly shake your head.

"That's okay," he said, and you dragged your eyes back up to him. "Maybe tomorrow."

You gave him a small smile. "Yeah, maybe."

He sighed and glanced at the door to the spare room.

"You need anythin', I'm right next door," he said, hitching his thumb to the side and giving you a lopsided grin, but you could still see it in his eyes. The disappointment. The sadness. The yearning. And it was making you feel sick.

Just as he turned to head towards the spare room, you spoke. "Joel?"

And he eagerly swiveled back around.

"I'm gonna try really hard to remember," you said earnestly, looking deep into his eyes.

"I know," he replied with a sad smile. He gave you one more look before heading into the spare room and softly closing the door behind him.

Joel slept like shit.

No surprise there, really. He hadn't slept without you in years. He had hoped the whiskey would have helped, but he was wrong. His mind was racing as he tossed and turned, and by morning he had foolishly convinced himself that you would be back to normal after a good night's rest. He got up early and made coffee for the two of you, like he always did, then tended to the fire in the living room. The nights and early mornings were frigid, but the days were warm. The first sign that fall was approaching fast. He was just putting the poker back when he heard the bedroom door creak open upstairs and his heart jumped into his throat excitedly, but when you descended the stairs and locked eyes with him, he knew nothing had changed. He didn't even bother to ask. You didn't look at him the same way you used to. You used to smile and gravitate towards him, your hands always seeking out his, your eyes playful and loving, but now you looked at him like he was a complete stranger. Devoid of all affection, the only thing that remained was a forced politeness.

You said good morning and headed into the kitchen and Joel wondered how long it would take for you to come around. Less than a day ago, you looked at him in fear, but now you seemed at least comfortable in his presence. That had to count for something.

He must have looked like shit because when he joined you in the kitchen, you eyed him up and down curiously.

"Have you been up for a while?"

He shook his head and picked up his mug, taking a sip and hoping the caffeine would bring him back to life.

"How's your head?" he asked.

"Not great," you admitted, pouring your own cup of coffee. "It really hurts. I think whatever meds the doctor gave me yesterday wore off."

Without even thinking, Joel quickly closed the distance between you to examine your injury. You startled a bit when he came up behind you and lifted your hair, but for his benefit, you tamped down your reaction. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he gripped the nape of your neck to angle your head downwards in order to get a better look. You closed your eyes and held your breath as you focused on his fingertips pressing tenderly into your skin. You heard him murmur to himself, the sound coming from deep within his chest, and you realized just how close he really was. Aside from pulling you out of the way so the kids playing tag wouldn't knock you down, it was the first time he had really touched you, and he was so much softer than you expected.

"Don't think it's infected but let's go see the doc, just to be sure," he said, his hand still on your neck, his other hand pushing your hair away.

"Okay," you said quietly, finally allowing yourself to take in a shaky breath as you waited for him to release you.

As if he realized what he was doing, he let your hair fall back into place and let go of your neck, his fingertips lightly trailing down your spine before falling to his side, making you shiver and step away.

"Sorry," he said. "Should've asked to look first."

"It's fine," you told him, absentmindedly rubbing the spot on your neck his fingers just touched.

As you walked side by side to the infirmary, his stony expression slid back into place. Gone was the softness you witnessed in his home. His hardened gaze drifted around the street, then to the watch towers, taking everything in. Studying. Calculating. And that was when you realized there were two Joel Millers: the one who the rest of the town viewed as gruff and callous, and the one you saw in the kitchen that morning, soft and gentle.

You wondered how many people got to see the latter version.

Nick examined you again in the same room as before, but this time, Joel was there watching his every move like a hawk. You could practically see the tension radiating off Nick's shoulders as he moved around the room. He examined your cut carefully, Joel's eyes never once leaving his hands, confirming that it was not infected before parceling out ten little white tablets of extra strength Tylenol into a small baggie and advising you to use them sparingly as inventory was low.

"That's it?" Joel asked incredulously.

"You know how it is, Joel," Nick said, but you heard his voice waver when Joel stood up from his chair. "Meds are hard to come by, we gotta be smart-"

"She hit her goddamn head so fuckin' hard she's lucky she remembers her own name and you're givin' her Tylenol?" he seethed, and you could see his neck growing flush with anger again.

"Joel, calm down, it's fine," you said, sliding off the table. Turning to Nick, you were about to voice your thanks when Joel cut you off.

"It ain't fine. What's it gotta take to get somethin' that actually works?" he huffed, taking a step forward and making Nick shift his weight nervously. "She gotta be missin' an arm? Maybe if she hit her head hard enough to forget what fuckin' planet she's on?"

"Joel, that's enough!" you snapped with a frown, and much to Nick's relief, Joel instantly backed off. He turned and paced around the small room, his hand rubbing over his mouth as he tried to calm down.

"What about my memory? Is it a bad sign I haven't remembered anything yet?" you asked Nick, and Joel paused somewhere behind you to listen to his answer.

"Well, the brain is a tricky thing," he began, his eyes darting over your shoulder briefly. "It could be weeks, could be months. Without any imaging, I wouldn't be able to tell you much more than that." You nodded and swallowed nervously before asking your next question.

"Or never, right?"

Nick took a deep breath and looked at Joel over your shoulder again before responding.

"It's possible."

You heard Joel's boots squeak against the linoleum floor and without even looking, you knew he was anxiously pacing around again.

"Alright, thank you. We'll get out of your hair now," you said, turning to corral Joel towards the door.

"Regardless, I'd like to see you again in a few days so I can take a look at those stitches," Nick said, and you agreed while pushing a muttering Joel back out into the hallway.

"I'll get you better meds," he said as you both walked out of the infirmary. "I got patrol tomorrow mornin', but I can go out after. There's a small cluster of houses we never did a full sweep on. Maybe-"

"The Tylenol is fine, don't go through the trouble. You could get hurt," you said, shoving the baggie of pills into your pocket.

"Tylenol ain't gonna do shit. I don't want you bein' in pain if there's somethin' we can do about it."

You sighed and rubbed the back of your neck, trying to temporarily relieve the ache in your head until you could get home and take one of the pills. You gave Joel a sideways glance, studying him as you walked together. He was brash and rude and aggressive, but you were learning that side of him came out when he was being protective over the ones he loved.

Or when he was trying to hide who he really was.

"So, everyone pitches in around here, right?" you asked, trying to change the subject. "You do patrol. What do I do?"

You paused at a crossroads, trying to remember which way to go, when Joel's hand on your elbow guided you in the right direction.

"You work patrol, too, but you ain't doin' that anymore," he said, letting go of your elbow after holding on for a moment too long.

"Well, obviously. I don't even know how to ride a horse," you said with a snort. "So I guess I need to find a new job, right? Who do I talk to?"

"Why don't you slow down a minute?" Joel said with a chuckle. "Let that pretty little head of yours heal up before you go lookin' for work."

You weren't going to say anything about his comment. Although it took you off guard, you realized he had habits that were going to be hard to ignore and you didn't expect that to happen overnight, but he seemed to realize what he said on his own and awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Sorry," he said softly.

"It's okay. I know this is difficult for you," you said, shooting him a sympathetic glance as you climbed his porch steps. He swung open the door and followed you inside, where you made a beeline for a glass of water so you could take one of the pills.

"We got a lotta history, you and me. It's hard to start over," he said as he watched you toss back the Tylenol with a wince. You examined his face closely and pulled out one of the stools to sit down. You leaned forward, forearms resting on the cool countertop before replying.

"Tell me a story."

He raised an eyebrow at you but couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up a bit.

"What kinda story?"

"A story about us. You just said we have a lot of history together. Let's hear some of it," you replied with an encouraging smile.

"You sure? Thought you'd wanna go lay down," he said, but he eagerly pulled up a stool across from you.

"I think I can handle one little story," you told him, then watched as he stared down at his hands on top of the counter, deep in thought. When he thought of one, a slow smile spread across his face and his dark brown eyes flicked up to meet yours and you saw that softer side of him again.

"Alright," he said, settling back a bit. "So I told'ya last night how we met."

You cringed, remembering the story of a much bolder and seductive version of yourself, and nodded.

"Well, after that night we started seein' each other for a few weeks. It was just casual, nothin' serious," he said, looking down at his hands again. "I convinced you to sneak around so no one would catch on, and you grew tired of that. Rightfully so. I was bein' an asshole."

You watched him pull at a loose thread on the cuff of his flannel shirt, his eyes still cast down and you were beginning to realize it was due to shame.

"So anyway. One day you came over to, y'know..." he said, and you felt the heat in your cheeks again. "And you confronted me about it head on. Demanded to know why I wanted to keep you a secret. Thought I was ashamed of you - which I wasn't," he said quickly, his eyes finally meeting yours again. "But I had been through a lot of shit and I just didn't think I could give myself to someone like that again."

"What kind of shit?" you asked quietly, but he just lightly shook his head.

"One story at a time," he told you with a sad smile. You chewed on your lower lip as you waited for him to continue, his focus back on the loose string while he collected his thoughts.

"So I explained I had a hard time lettin' people in, that I wasn't capable of carin' 'bout anyone like that anymore, and you said to me, 'I know who you are, Joel Miller. Don't give me that bullshit, you're just scared.'"

He stared into your eyes, letting what he said land and hoping to see a flicker of the woman who spoke those words, but you just continued to look at him, waiting for him to finish the story like it was about somebody else entirely.

"Well, you were right, obviously. You always are," he continued with a smirk. "It knocked me on my ass. And I didn't know what was more difficult to believe: that you knew me better than I knew myself, or someone like you wanted anythin' to do with me in the first place."

You smiled and dropped your gaze to the counter, suddenly feeling shy.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you, but so far, these stories don't sound like me at all," you admitted.

He took a deep breath and finally stopped fidgeting with his sleeve.

"A lot's happened in ten years. Stuff that changes people. But I don't care what version of you's here, I love all of you."

You kept your eyes glued to his hands. You wished you could say it back. You knew he wanted to hear it. Maybe one day.

He tapped his finger on the counter, pulling your attention up so you were forced to look him in the eye.

"You fought for me that night, now I'm gonna fight for you, okay?" he said, eyebrows raised as he waited for you to acknowledge him. When you nodded sheepishly, his shoulders relaxed.

"So you're saying I fell in love with you because you were an asshole?" you joked, trying to lighten the mood, and it worked. Joel laughed heartily and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Nah, you didn't love me then," he said, still smiling.

"So how did I fall in love with you?" you asked, and his tongue clicked against his teeth.

"You're gonna have to wait to find out," he replied with a wink.

It wasn't his fault, but the rest of the day you could feel Joel looking at you. He was examining you, waiting to see the woman he fell in love with, and the pressure was beginning to be too much, so you made up an excuse to go lay down in his bedroom. He had mentioned he had patrol in the morning. Maybe some time away from him would help you relax.

You stared up at the white ceiling. The distant sound of children laughing outside through the closed window and then the door to the garage swinging open and shut acted as a soundtrack to your overactive thoughts. You almost had to laugh. It felt like your mind was constantly working, churning up information and digesting it only to always come up empty.

Absolutely nothing seemed familiar. Nothing about this place or these people felt like home.

You wished so badly you could remember something. Anything to make you feel like you belonged there. One little shred of hope was all you were looking for.

And then you remembered the journal.

Sitting up in bed, you tucked your legs underneath you and reached over for the black book. You fingers hesitated for a moment on the cover. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but how could that be when it was your own?

Taking a deep breath, you flipped open the journal and began at the beginning.

Right away, you could tell you wrote the entries. There was no doubt in your mind. Aside from your handwriting, your typical disorganization shone through like a beacon on every page. You occasionally remembered to notate in the margin the date, or your best guess at the date, but more often than not you were left with very little context for each small paragraph you read.

You were disappointed to realize the journal seemed to begin after you had met Joel. A big part of you was very eager to learn more about the person you were before finding Jackson, but it seemed as though you would have to depend on others to tell you stories you hopefully had relayed to them in the past.

The first page looked to be a list of items you had jotted down that didn't make much sense, but maybe when you first found the notebook, you hadn't intended to use it as a journal.

Socks, colored pencils, sunflower seeds, cards.

Flipping the page, you skimmed a short paragraph about a cabin you stumbled upon when on patrol. Again, it was more notes than anything of any substance. A description of approximately where it was in relation to Jackson along with a note to 'mention it at the next town hall meeting'.

Finally something interesting on the next page, you read a short paragraph about someone named Maria having a baby girl, and you frowned when you read the line Joel handled it better than I expected.

Continuing on, you read an entry about Christmas: Joel found me the softest sweater, it almost felt brand new. I really don't know how he managed to find it and I described the house I grew up in to Ellie and she drew it perfectly, I can't believe how talented she is.

One paragraph in particular grabbed your attention. It was about two people, and based on the context, it sounded like you were close friends. For the first time since we got here, I had the same day off as Ben and Lisa. We went fishing together and brought a lunch. It felt just like old times. As weird as it sounds, sometimes I miss being out there with them. We made a good team.

Maybe this Ben and Lisa would be able to answer some questions you had about yourself. Based on what you just read, it sounded like they knew you before Jackson.

There was a lot more to read, but the next page stopped you dead in your tracks. Your heart began to beat faster as you stared at the four words. Just one sentence, no explanation. A shiver slowly trickled down your spine as you sat there, unmoving, as your vision narrowed on the page: Joel lied to me.

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[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 6: The Return

A/N: Did this chapter during a slow day in class. Enjoy this mini chapter!

You tried to keep your promise to Alfred about taking regular breaks to stop for food and sleep, but the Megamycete gives you unlimited energy, reducing your need for food and rest and allowing you to focus only driving as much as you can before night because Alfred is no doubt keeping track of when you tell him you’re stopping and resuming your journey.

Finally, after forty hours (you wished you could’ve turned into a giant flying creature and carry your car all the way to Goodsprings, but you’d never be able to explain that to Alfred), you pulled into the driveway of your childhood home and you feel tears swelling up in the corners of your eyes.

(Your feelings for this home are quite profound,) it remarks as you make your way up the driveway. (May we ask a favor?)

“Yeah, of course?”

(Allow us to establish a root system around your house. We promise our roots will not damage anything.)

“Can I ask why?”

(You have longed to return to this house for years. We wish to ensure its protection. With a root system, we will be able to watch over your house and keep out undesirables, be they man or pest.)

“Sure,” you chuckle, bending down and touching the lawn and from your finger, a sliver of mold extends from your skin and disappears into the dirt.

(We thank you. Should anything threaten your home, we will intervene.)

“Thanks, buddy,” you chuckle as you walk up to the front door, pulling out the key that the Clark County Probate Office sent you after you turned eighteen.

As you insert the key into the keyhole, you realize that you’re holding your breath. You’ve dreamed on this moment for years and now that it’s here, you’re worried that the home you’ve wanted to return to won’t bring you the joy you thought it would.

(Do not let your fears stand in your way. This home contains memories of a time of your life that you cherish. You will also be able to walk through the halls of this house without fear. Within these four walls, you will create a new life that will bring you happiness.)

You’re thankful for accepting the Megamycete into your body. Not only has it given you powers and abilities that you could never dream of, but it’s provided you comfort and companionship. It’s been very helpful to have your own Jiminy Chricket, whispering guidance and help from your shoulder.

With that, you turn the key and push the door open, stepping into the small foyer. Sure, the house has that type of smell that says it’s been empty for years and it’s pitch black since the curtains are drawn, but you’re overwhelmed by so many memories all at once. You and your Momma chasing each other down the hall in a game of tag, you sprawled out on the couch in the adjacent living room to watch the latest episode of one of your favorite cartoons, and so many others.

As you make your way through the house and notice every piece of furniture is covered in white sheets, protecting them from being covered in dust. Probably Sheriff Foley, he was the last one here the day your left and from what you remember of the distinguished sheriff, he’d do everything in his power to preserve the house and make sure nothing happened to it.

Finally, you pass throgh the dining room attached to the kitchen, walk down the small hallway and stop at the door on the left.

“Momma’s study,” you say, looking at the door before you.

(A room she spent most of her time. Many hours spent at her desk, working on her books. And you would stay in here to watch her.)

You open the door to see her bookshelves, desk, and chair covered in white tarps and the curtains drawn just like the rest of the house. You walk over to the other side of the desk, pull the tarp off the chair, and plop down on it.

“Feels just like I remember it,” you say, spinning around in it.

(What will you do with this room? Will you keep it as a study, or repurpose it?)

“I can turn it into my own study. With all that money Lex gave me for Bruce’s secrets? I can buy one hell of a PC that’ll be perfect for making games.”

After the study, you head upstairs, which has your old room, your Momma’s room, an upstairs bathroom, and a bedroom she had turned into a storage room. Your old room’s empty since you took most of your belongings when you moved to Gotham, the only things left are a bed that you’ve long since outgrown and a small dresser, so you decide otherwise set up in your Momma’s old room, which has a large bed that’s been covered in a tarp for years, a large dresser perfect for your clothes, and a sizable private bathroom.

(This house seems perfect for your purposes. And your mood has definitely improved since arriving.)

“Yeah, we have the house all to ourselves and there’s no Waynes in sight. This is definitely better than Wayne Manor.” You look around at the dark room and sigh. “We have a lot of work to do.”

And you did. For a week, you worked tirelessly to get the house livable, making calls to utility companies to get power, water, and gas turned back on, airing out the house, taking down the tarps and making everything look presentable, and clearing out your Momma’s belongings. You kept as much of you could, like her books, movies, jewelry, and everything else in between, but her clothes were boxed up and donated, along with appliances that date back to the early 2000s.

You had a lot of shopping to do, replacing the old appliances you donated, groceries for the new refrigerator, and a new mattress for your new room since the thought of sleeping on a decade old mattress made you itch all over. If you could’ve, you would’ve done all the shopping online, but you didn’t want to risk attracting attention to your finances with so many large purchases, so going to stores and paying with cash was your only option.

The best part of all this was converting your old bedroom into your gamer cave, full of your Pokémon plushies, toys, and posters, LED strips lining the corners of the room, and a giant desk and a top-of-the-line gaming PC. As much as you loved your trusty laptop, this PC makes it look like a relic from over a hundred years ago, and you can now play more modern games without any kind of lag. You’re really looking forward to future video game sessions.

After your gamer cave came your office. You boxed up your Momma’s old books and placed them in the storage room, replacing them with a few art books and game guides and bought another top-of-the-line PC full of digital art and video game creation software and placed it on the desk. You also found a fancy pen stand and placed your Momma’s pen on it, retuning the pen to its proper place. Plus, it can give you inspiration while you work.

Thankfully, the Megamycete made this undertaking easier, giving you stamina and energy that allowed you to work for hours on end without getting tired and allowing you to summon tendrils so you can do something upstairs while your body’s downstairs.

“Finally,” you sigh, plopping down on the living room couch after finishing the second coat of paint in the living room. “We’re done.”

(You have turned this house into a place anyone would kill to live in. You should be proud.)

“You helped. Getting this place into shape would’ve a few weeks, probably a month.”

(What is your next course of action?)

“Right now? Rest. Tomorrow? Time to get back to work.”

(That is right, your game. With your new tools, you should create a masterpiece worthy of you in no time.)

“Glad to know you think so highly of me, bud,” you chuckle.

That’s when you hear your phone go off, indicating you have a text. You take the device off the table, which had been playing your playlist of video game soundtracks, and see a message from Alfred.

Alfred: I hope your first week back in Goodsprings and that you’re taking proper care of yourself. I was thinking about you earlier today and decided to make my chocolate chip cookies.

The text is accompanied by a picture of said cookies and you instantly start salivating at the sight of the baked goods.

(Yes, the butler’s treats were very palatable to you.)

That’s a gross understatement.when it comes to any form of cooking, especially baking, the man is a god, able to conjure up food that would bring tears to anyone’s eye. While you’re ecstatic to be back home and away from the Waynes, you miss the man and his cooking. Now, you have to make do with either what little restaurants Goodsprings has or try your hand at cooking your own meals. And while there are many in the Megamycete’s records that were good in the kitchen, none of them held a candle to Alfred.

Me: Looks delicious! Making me drool up a river in my living room.

Alfred: I certainly hope that’s a joke. A young man as respectable as you should never be caught doing something as disgraceful as drooling.

You laugh at the text. Bless him, the poor man really thinks of you as a member of the “prim and proper” Wayne Family instead of the product of a one-night stand. When you first moved in, he tried to teach you all the ways of high society, but none of it ever took. You are who you are and nothing’s going to change that.

Alfred: Is it too early to ask when I can expect a visit from you?

You feel your heart drop a bit. You miss Alfred and would do anything to see him again, but you promised yourself that when you left Gotham, you’d never step foot in that hellhole again. And you know the man’s been trying to get the Waynes to get their shit together and remember the third child brought to live with him, but you hate all of them more than anything and if you never saw them again, it would be too soon.

Of course, you can’t tell him that. It would break his heart and make him feel guilty for not doing more. So, instead, you say:

Me: Sorry, I’m still getting things cleaned up around here and I’m trying to get my game working. Don’t know when I’ll be able to.

Alfred: I understand, my boy. I just ask that you try to carve out a little time to come back to Gotham and visit home when things calm down.

Home and Gotham definitely do not belong in the same sentence. Not for you, at least. Nevertheless:

Me: I promise!

Of course, you have no intention of going back there. You miss Alfred, but that city isn’t a place where good people end up. You were dragged there against your will and if it wasn’t for that drunk driver, you never would’ve lost the best years of your life to it and the Waynes. No matter what, you will never step foot in Gotham again.

You’d rather die.

[luvt0kki]

INTERLUDE | OPENING SEQUENCE

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧ s.w.m masterlist ୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ taglist ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨୧

This scene that locked me up The sequence that's like forever Stay for me, stay for me, stay for me I can't get used to it, used to it, used to it

🎧: Opening Sequence - TXT

previous | INTERLUDE | next

pairings: ot8 x f!reader (san x reader)

w.c : 10k ( im sorry for any errors)

cw: mature, ,minors do not interact, nsfw, reader is afab, slow burn, polyamory, smut , bittersweet, angst, MC's background is inspired by Black Widow's background with the Red Room, reader is called sweet heart/baby, hints of abuse/manipulation, mc’s past, mention of their training days, injuries, scars, loss of virginity, first time, very very very longgggggg chapter I’m sorry

REMINDER: my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.

a/n : surprise? SPECIAL CHAPTER!!!! I hope you guys like this one. I didn’t initially plan to write this but after posting chapter 005 I wanted to write something different or something else and this came about. I hope you guys like. Thank you for being so patient with me 🥺💗

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE, OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF MY WORK HERE. I DO NOT NOR WILL ALLOW IT.

“How long do you think before they find us here?”

The young assassin paused, his heart dropping. Never has he ever heard you, YOU, out of all the graduated students of the Academy, sound like this.

You were always so sure of yourself but now, he was hearing a completely different person yet so familiar. When was the last time he heard you like this? He was quick to recall it and that ache in his chest began to feel as if he was burning from the inside. This small, unsure, and weak voice belonged to the little girl he grew up with before the academy changed everything and he never heard you like this again.

Til today.

He was scared to turn around.

If your own resolve was shaking then the situation was worse than he thought.

San shook his head and continued to look around the padded room looking for any signs of a possible escape. Even if you two did get out, you two would have nothing but your knives and your fists.

“No one’s going to come for us, aren’t they Sannie?” You choked out his nickname so softly, that he felt his heart broke. “At the end of the day…” you went on, the fears of a little girl that San had failed to protect breaking through the facade the Academy molded and chiseled you in. “I’m just one of their many weapons. The other girls in the Academy…they’re good. Better. I will be of no use soon.”

San’s hands were beginning to tremble uncontrollably as he reloaded the gun. You were the Academy’s proudest creation, you had set the standard. Though those things were true, these were your fears. They were just as real.

“We’ve sent a Morse code to them. They’ll find us soon. They won’t let you go as easily.” San swallowed the lump in his throat trying to maintain composure and not let the impending doom of you both get to him.

What made him sadder was that he was right. The Academy won’t let you go. You were chained to them in a way, he wasn’t.

“Sannie…”

They could afford to lose him. He was a part of the top three of those who graduated with him but he wasn’t the first of the batch.

“They’ll come for you.”

The room that confined you two was dim. The skylight let some moonlight shine through to illuminate what it could in the darkness you two were submerged in. Did your captors really believe the Academy would buy their ransom for two of their assassins? They would come with a brute force that would leave them nothing in ashes. If no one came for the two of you, they’ll kill you both or worse, sell the two of you off to the market.

San would kill them before they even thought of selling you as a slave.

“Sannie, it’s cold.”

His composure broke then.

Gone was the weapon the Academy created.

Without any hesitation, San went to where you had been sitting (on the white sheet mattress in the room they threw you two in) then pulled you onto his lap with his arms wrapped around you. Your skin was cold to the touch and his desperation to hold you only grew. He cradled you so gently in his arms, scared that if he embraced you tighter you’d shatter.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered, resting his chin on the top of your head as he kept his gaze up, fighting back tears and the urge to press his lips on the the crown of your head. “I’m here. I'm not going anywhere.”

You were taught to never take anyone’s words seriously. Always doubt them, they once said. Doubt them until they prove it because you can never know what they mean and yet, you believed every word San said.

Every promise he has ever made, he kept them. Everything he said he would do, he did. But even if he didn’t prove to be a man of his word, the part of you that you pushed in the dark, would believe him blindly.

His strong arms held you in a way you never knew you needed to be held and the warmth of his body was giving you, melted away the armor you didn’t have the luxury to take off.

“Sannie,”

He loved it when you called him Sannie. Since you two met, he was your Sannie. If you asked him now, just once, to be yours, he’d be yours forever.

“Yeah?” He caressed your back in gentle circles, taking note of how your shivering lessened and your breathing calmed.

You didn’t continue your thought. It got stuck in your throat. How could you possibly say what you wanted to? Instead, you opted to bury your face into his neck. You’ll think about it for a bit…because what if it was the wrong time to say it?

“Can I hold your hand?”

Your voice was such a soft whisper, that San almost didn’t hear it. It was like you were embarrassed to have even asked, even though he’s held your hand so many times in secret during your training days when it was an evaluation day.

San hummed in response and carefully, still cradling you in his lap with your head leaning on his chest, slipped his hand with yours. He stared at your hands as he did. His hand was bigger than yours and his heart dropped when he realized you had taken off your gloves. Such delicate hands were bruised at the knuckles and hands that only ever touched or brushed him so gently.

He knew in your head you could only see how stained your arms were with blood.

“Your hands are cold,” he pointed out, pouting a little at the fact and like he did when you were younger, he took both your hands and brought them close to his mouth to breathe warmth into them.

You felt your heart thump particularly strong in your chest. The feelings you’ve had for San that you had hidden away because you were told you could never be loved nor love for you were only a weapon, returned.

Because you are a weapon, you would only ever hurt the people you love.

“How are you so warm?” You chuckled, falling into a comfort you denied yourself for so long. “If I remember correctly, you were such a small petite thing when we were younger. I was afraid you wouldn’t make it past the selection.”

He laughed softly at the memory. “I didn’t want to be left behind. I need to be with you no matter what.” He let himself speak freely and honestly, letting his hands warm yours.

“I would’ve purposely failed if that was the case. I wouldn’t want to continue on without you.” You admitted, feeling the ache of your muscles finally hit you.

“They would’ve known if you did.”

“That’s true.”

“I would catch up to you no matter what. To be by your side…” San paused, afraid to say what he wanted to in fear that you may not feel the same. “For a long time, I believe that’s where I belong.”

His words caught you off guard. Did Sannie know? Did he know that you loved him? There was no way he could but the possibility of attraction between the two of you could not be ruled out so easily. It was there. You both knew it. You two just never spoke of it.

“Do you still believe that?” You asked, feeling a little braver and desperate.

What if this was it? It had been four days since the enemy got the upper hand and immobilized you and San and sealed you two up in this room. What if the Academy did abandon you both? Weapons are replaceable.

“I’m here with you now, aren’t I?”

He’s always been there.

You lifted your head off his shoulder to gaze up at him.

Gone was the little boy you worried about whenever you two trained separately. The one who was easily thrown and bullied around by his much stronger contenders. You were afraid of losing him even then because you had wondered why someone with such a gentle heart could ever hurt people. For goodness sake, he continued to let himself get beaten up just because one of the much younger trainees out of desperation and hunger, stole a piece of roasted sweet potato.

Before you now was a man. San still had the handsomeness he’s had since he was younger except it matured and bloomed into sharp features and a striking beauty that lost all the softness of his younger self. His body was no longer frail and sickly. His back and shoulders became broad, lean muscles had grown and given him more shape that reminded you of the prowess of a black panther.

But when he smiled.

He was the Sannie you cared for and loved so deeply…so quietly.

“Can you promise me something?” You asked, feeling your heart begin to ache.

“Anything for you.” He smiled softly down at you and you wished he hadn’t because it’d made your heart want him even more.

“If we get out of this alive…” you felt tears begin to form in your eyes. “Promise me you’ll leave the academy.”

“Y/N—,” he began to protest, sitting up a little bit you shushed him gently and changed your positions.

You cupped his face gently with your hands and looked straight into his eyes.

“When we get out of here, you need to disappear. Leave this life behind.”

San has never seen you cry since the Selection. Your eyes which were usually blank and cold, and that only ever warmed when you looked at him were glassy with tears and there was fear in them. Pure fear and hurt.

“P-please, Sannie. Leave the Academy.”

Why were you asking him something so difficult?

“You deserve more than this life. You should be able to live freely and to love freely. Leave all this behind. Leave me behind.” You were begging him now, your hot tears falling onto his beautiful face. His eyes were so gentle as they looked up at you.

“Don’t ask me of this, Y/N.” He tried to be stern to mask the breaking of his heart. “You know I can’t do that!” He wrapped his arms around your waist. “I can’t. I can’t…I can’t.” His voice was trembling, both your fears breaking you down.

“Do it for me, Sannie.” You wiped his tears away with your thumbs, fighting the urge to kiss the beauty mark on his upper cheek. “If one of us gets to be free, it should be you.”

“That’s not fair, Y/N.” He grabbed you by the back of your neck while his other hand brought your leg to be able to wrap around him, consumed by the need to be close to you. He pressed your forehead against his.

“We both deserve to live. If we’re talking about who should be free, it should be you.” He said through gritted teeth, still not letting all his composure go. How could you think so little of your life? “You’re not a weapon.”

He took your hand and placed it over where his heart would be. “We both have hearts that beat. We both have tears to cry. You breathe just like I do. You feel just like I do…you can love just like I do.”

San’s words echoed in your head, they rang like an alarm as those words breached the codes that the Academy programmed into you.

You couldn’t think straight. None of you could.

‘You can love just like I do.’

Could you, really?

Your bleary eyes searched San’s glimmering onyx orbs. You were scared to find nothing but conviction and such surety that made you believe him that you could. The hope in his eyes frightened you.

You didn’t know how to love. You only assumed to know that love was a precious emotion you could never have. The Academy said love was a weakness but all the training and programming they did, seemed to not exist at this very moment. Neither did it for San.

Well in his case, you had always been his exception to every rule. He’d break rules, laws, and bones for you.

“I don’t know if I can,” you sobbed softly. The fact you don’t even know how to love makes you feel as if you weren’t human.

Love was different from lust. You knew that. Everyone, even those under the Academy, had needs and everyone was left to handle it themselves as long as it didn’t compromise their abilities or get in the way of missions.

To put it simply, they just fucked for the feeling of it.

But no one touched you. You wouldn’t let it happen. You couldn’t. The other girls were nice enough to tell you how to do it yourself and you wondered if San has ever needed to get those needs out of the way…and the thought of who it could’ve been with made your chest ache at the thought.

“You can.” He smiled, so soft and gentle, it made you wonder if anyone else in the galaxy could look at you that way. So fondly and not the monster and killer you really were.

San held your hand that was against his heart tightly, still smiling up at you so sweetly you didn’t think you could handle that look. It was so foreign to you.

“Y/N, if you’ll let me,” San didn’t care anymore. If you two were going to die tomorrow and if he was going to do as you made him promise, he’d hold you and speak as if this was his last night in this life. “Let me make you feel. It doesn’t have to be love. But please, let me make you truly feel.”

You knew you could say no and it would be okay. All your time in the Academy, you realized the only time you ever felt safe was when you were with San. You didn’t have to keep your guard up with him and you didn’t have to lie to him.

Throwing all caution out the window and focusing on San, just him, you exhaled softly, unaware that you had been holding your breath.

“O-okay.” You held his face softly once more, telling yourself he was real. That he was here, he had never left you not once and he wouldn’t leave you til you told him to. “P-please Sannie.” Your voice quivered. “I want to feel alive.”

“Don’t cry, my darling,” he cooed, wiping your tears away. “You know I’ll do anything for you, right?”

You nodded, letting yourself enjoy the soft touch of his hands in your hair and on your face, and the warmth of his embrace.

“Can I kiss you?”

You felt heat bloom in your cheeks at the question. San knew you’d never been kissed. Well, he knew because first of all, he was your closest friend in the Academy and you told him everything, and secondly, he may or may not have scared off anyone else who wanted to.

“O-okay.” You’ve never felt so shy.

“I won’t ever hurt you, Y/N.” He leaned closer, your heart racing you felt as if it was going to jump out of your chest. “With everything I am and as long as I’m around, I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Your lips parted the slightest bit as his sweet words overwhelmed you with a sensation you’ve only ever felt in tingles whenever you were with him and now they were bursts of warmth that radiated throughout your body.

The plumpness of your lips and that innocent and pure way you gazed at home made him lose all his resolve. Softly as if handling the finest and most fragile porcelain, he pressed his lips against yours, their softness and their warmth, and the closeness of it all, made him feel as if the world had stopped.

You didn’t know what to do but when his lips gently moved against yours, a part of you made you do the same. It’s like your body needed to reciprocate his actions naturally. Maybe it was because you had thought about kissing him and wondered about it late at night til your face was hot and you were flustered at the imagination of what it’d feel to be closer to Sannie in a different way…

Gently, San helped you sit comfortably on his lap, supporting your back as he kissed you, tasting the sweetness of your lips that had a hint of metallic taste from the small cut on your lower lip. He’d kiss away all your cuts and bruises if you’d let him. He’d kiss them to make you forget the pain.

San was still holding back though.

He didn’t want to do anything you didn’t want.

But the way you had begun to kiss him back with the same need as he did, only made it harder for him to not lose himself.

Pulling away reluctantly, he looked at you. Your pretty lashes fluttered so prettily as you blinked dreamily at him, your lips were a glistening pink and your cheeks were glowing.

What made San fall even harder in that moment was the way you shyly looked away when he had been staring.

“Sannie…” you murmured, squeezing his shoulders nervously and completely aware that you were sitting on his lap, straddling him.

You just had your first kiss. San had just kissed you.

“Can I touch you?”

You felt your ears grow hot. “Aren’t you already?” You murmured. His hands were already on your waist and when they weren’t there they were in your hair or caressing your face.

“Let me rephrase that,” He chuckled and pressed his lips onto the corner of your mouth. “Can I…” he kissed your cheek, each kiss making warmth bloom wherever they touched you. “Touch…” He caressed the curve of your spine, your lower back tingling at the gentle touch. “All of you?”

“Y-yes.” You had uttered out so quickly and softly, that you felt embarrassed. You didn’t even think twice.

“You can touch me too,” San began to kiss along the column of your neck, the sensation making you shiver. “You can touch me however you want, Y/N.” He gripped your hips just a little bit tighter, enjoying the way you cutely squirmed.

“Sannie,” you softly called out to him, making him part from your neck which he had been kissing and licking.

His brows rose at your call, waiting for whatever you needed to say but in all honesty, you just needed to feel his lips on yours again.

So without a word, you cradled San’s handsome face in both hands before crashing your lips onto his, surprising not only him but also yourself at how greedy you had become. You didn’t know you could feel such sensations and the kiss just sparked a flame you never knew could come alive, and now that it was lit, it began to burn.

“T-touch me,” you whispered desperately between kisses, his own lips hungrily kissing you back.

San felt as if he was dreaming when those words slipped past your lips and even more so how prettily you moaned when caressed the underside of your breast with his thumb. He was surprised with how sensitive you were. You were still in your cat suit and yet you reacted so quickly to his touch.

His lips and your lips messily danced with desperation to drink each other's heat and passion. Your own hands had begun to tug at his armored protective suit while he also made quick work of your catsuit. San not wanting to leave the warmth of your lips, took his time to unzip the front of your suit. He wanted to be gentle with you despite the lust that was burning him from the inside out he just wanted to feel you and make you feel.

His lips finally left yours only to attack your neck with hot kisses, making you moan out softly. Gently he laid you on the worn-out mattress, parting from you completely so he could kneel between your thighs. Your eyes remained on him as he removed his protective vest, discarding it somewhere in the room before he peeled off his long sleeve over his head. His muscular chiseled body was illuminated by the moonlight, every ridge and ripple of muscle was accentuated by the shadows of the room. You felt a familiar heat pool in your lower body the more you stared at San’s physique and you blushed and turned away when he caught you staring.

The edge of San’s mouth twitched into a small smile, finding your timidness to be rather adorable. He liked how flustered you became because of him. San reached for your hips to pull you closer, your eyes widening when he did.

San found the zipper of your catsuit again, his heart thrumming in his chest as he slowly pulled it down. His breathing grew heavy as yours quickened with how the suit slowly opened revealing glimpses of your naked skin beneath. The rise and fall of your chest along with the sight of the valley of your breasts and hints of your body before him, made his throat dry.

He wanted to take his time but at the same time, his long infatuation that had turned to something more over the years made it difficult.

When the cold air kissed your bare skin, you felt your nipples pebble and harden against the fabric of the suit, making you want to rub your thighs together but that was impossible when San was knelt between your thighs.

“Can I keep going?” He asked you, pausing the pull of your zipper before it could go lower than your belly button. He searched for any uneasiness in your eyes but instead, he found such a sweet yet sinful look in them.

You nodded. “Y-yes, please.”

Gently, he helped you slip your arms out of the suit, his breath hitching at the sight of your bare pretty breasts bouncing free as he bunched the specialized Kevlar-like fabric at your waist. His palms were at least a micro-centimeter away from your skin. Almost afraid and hesitant to truly feel you. An assassin without their suit was just as deadly as them having one but with you, he felt as if without it, you were just a woman. A woman who wanted to be loved…a woman he loved.

Kissing you drove him crazy enough but to get to touch you? He’s going to crumble.

It seemed you had noticed his hesitation and driven by your silent desire, you took his hand and splayed fingers and pressed his palm over the middle of your chest, close to where your heart would be.

You didn’t say a word as his eyes snapped to meet yours. All it told him was that this was consensual, that you wanted him to touch you, and that he could keep going.

If this was truly yours and his last night in this world, none of you wanted to hold back.

“Sannie…” his heart stopped when you softly called out his name. Your eyes looked into his as if he brought you peace, there was no turmoil nor anxiety in them. The cold and dark blankness that they held when you’re on a mission or on Academy grounds was absent.

Right here, before him was just you. The young girl he once knew that the Academy caged and programmed to be a weapon in their beck and call, a woman who did not have the time to love or be loved, nor was allowed to. But if you were to tell him you were incapable of loving, he’d prove to you that you were wrong.

Maybe you didn’t know it then but the compassion you had shown him during your trainee days when he was nothing but the runt of the litter of kids with no future chosen by the Academy to be given a chance, that in its own way was love.

The way you stuck by him, took time to check if he was okay and to defend him from higher ranking assassins, even if it was platonic or more, it was love.

You slipped your fingers into his, intertwining them.

“Keep going.”

There was a hint of sadness in your smile despite the way you looked so longingly at him as if he were the warm shining sun.

He continued to unravel you. Gently, he rolled the fabric to slip past your hips. Despite your line of work, your skin was close to perfect in his eyes. No deep scars nor wounds that left a memory of your missions plus the Academy took good care of their favorites.

But the sight before him proved him wrong.

His heart dropped into his stomach and he felt your hand squeeze his.

Below your belly button and not fully hidden by the waistband of your black underwear, a long jagged scar curved along your lower abdomen. The scar was healed but it left its mark. It sickly smiled at him in a deeper shade than your complexion with pinkish hues.

“W-what is this?” He held your hip gently, his thumb caressing your hipbone afraid to touch that area skin, should you not like it.

He felt his heart break when you only looked at him sadly. “Y/N, w-what is this?” He croaked out hoarsely, his heart breaking when you looked at him that way and continued to hold his hand in yours.

“My graduation.”

The world stopped and he heard nothing but a dull ringing in his ears.

The Academy.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it didn’t matter. Why should I speak of something that I could never get back.”

“D-don’t talk like that. Y/N you should’ve told me.”

You sat up, heart breaking when you heard his voice crack. San didn’t even realize that tears were falling from his eyes as he stared at that mocking smiling scar. Just when he thought the Academy couldn’t take any more from you, they took everything.

Well, almost everything. But not him. They were not taking him away from you. Never.

“Sannie, don’t cry.” You smiled, wiping his tears away. “I didn’t tell you 'cause I knew you’d cry.” You took a deep breath, finally telling your closest friend of so many years the secret you’ve kept from him. “This is why you should leave the Academy and live a life you truly deserve. You have a chance for a future you want. Mine…well…mine was taken from me. It was a silly dream I had when we were kids.”

“When we spent time around the towns and I’d see people getting married and having families, I thought I could have that. I thought I was going to marry you and have a family. At twelve years old.” You laughed softly at the childhood memory. “At twelve years old, I looked at you, my best friend, and thought ‘I’m going to marry San’ and that we’re going to be as happy as the families I’ve seen. That I would have a child and give them the life I never had…but then the Academy happened.”

San’s tears streamed down his handsome face and you held his face in your hands once more, making him look at you.

“I don’t want to think about that tonight. I don’t want to think about what I went through to stay alive.” You leaned down to kiss his jaw and your breath was hot against his ear as you uttered words that shattered his heart even more. “So don’t touch me like I’m made of glass. You can’t break something that’s already broken. Make me forget, Sannie.”

You kissed him again then took his hand that was on your hip and guided it to cup your breast, your body tingling and warming at the touch. The simple gesture told him one thing. Throw caution out the window. Nothing else mattered now except you and him. If both of you were going to die tomorrow, you both wanted to feel love and act on desires that both of you held back on.

Driven by the love he harbored for you for so long, he attacked your neck with heated kisses and caressed your bare torso with such a need to feel your skin.

Your warmth and your scent, he could die in it.

Sloppily, he licked and nibbled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder before going lower, and hungrily taking the soft peak of your breast into his hot mouth.

You gasped and moaned at the sudden and new sensation, your body tingling over and your hips mindlessly grinding on San’s thigh. You shivered at the spark of friction and loosely wrapped your arms around his head, your fingers combing through his hair as his tongue flicked and swirled over your sensitive nipple while his other hand gave your other breast attention. He squeezed and massaged them just as greedy as his mouth was latched onto your right tit.

Soon, clothes were haphazardly thrown away and you were on your back completely on display for San’s eyes and his eyes only. The coldness of the room was forgotten as your bodies began to burn with lust and yours continued to grow hotter as he kissed along your inner thigh, his slit cat-like predatory gaze never leaving your face.

Your thigh was hooked over his left shoulder and San took his time kissing your soft plush thighs, nipping and biting where he wanted and enjoying the way you squirmed and trembled. But when he came face to face with your pretty pink pussy before him, he felt like he could cum untouched.

His gaze was hot as he stared at your core and you wanted to close your thighs but it was impossible with San’s position. He rested his hand over your lower belly as he licked his lips.

“You’re dripping,” he said lowly, eying your slick pink folds and your little pulsing hole that pushed more arousal out the more he teased you. He brushed his thumb over your clit and your hips bucked.

Fuck, he swore to himself. You were so sensitive.

Biting his lip, he collected your arousal and messily spread it all over your cunt. You could feel the warm sticky slick over your skin and you only grew more needy for his touch. You’ve touched yourself plenty of times when you needed to…but it was different when it was someone else, it was different that it was San.

“Fuck,” he hissed softly, feeling how wet you were and how easily his thumb was able to circle around your sensitive clit, enjoying the reactions he was eliciting from you. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

You nodded, shamelessly.

“Have you ever been touched here?” He asked, wondering if you were like the other assassins who deal with their desires by sleeping with another assassin. If you answered yes, he’d be jealous. He’s already jealous at the thought of someone else being as close as he was to you right now.

But your answer was more than he expected.

“N-no. Just me.” You breathily replied, biting back a moan when he pressed a little more as he massaged your clit in slow languid circles.

“Yeah? Just you? All alone?”

“Mhm Hm.” You bit your lip, your hips bucking into his hand for more.

You were driving him crazy. He was imagining you touching yourself in your room. Pretty little hand in your panties playing with yourself underneath the covers and biting back your moans like you were right now.

“You know…there’s something better than just your fingers,” he inched closer, his breath fanning over your pussy, the heat of it making you clench around nothing. He hooked his arms underneath your thighs to hold you down and keep your hips still.

“Your fingers?” You guessed, blinking at him and watching his every move. You found it rather embarrassing that he was this close to your intimate area.

“Definitely,” he chuckled at your response. “But not that, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of your pubic bone. “Something even better.”

Before you could ask what, his pink tongue peeked from his lips and licked a long stripe from your dripping hole and up your clit. You moaned at the feeling, squirming in his hold. Not one second did his eyes leave yours, the intensity of them made you need him more, and when he slowly flicked his tongue around your clit, tasting you, the pleasure went straight to your head.

“A-ah, Sannie,” you gasped but it didn’t end there.

As he had done with your breast, he latched his hot lips onto your core and began tasting you.

San moaned against your pussy at the sweet taste of your cunt, slurping and hungrily licking at your arousal as if he didn’t want to let a single drop go to waste.

It was downright dirty. Pornographic.

He kissed and made out with your core like he had with your lips. You never knew that you could feel such mind-numbing pleasure like this. His tongue was so hot and his lips were so soft, and just when you thought it couldn’t get better, you felt the tip of his finger tease your entrance.

It was almost too much.

You gripped his dark hair and tugged when you felt him slip a digit inside of you. His finger was thicker than yours, longer too. A rush of arousal washed over you when you heard him moan against your pussy when you pulled his hair.

“You’re so wet, fuck. You taste so good.” He briefly left your clit then licked at the pearl before saying. “My finger slipped in so easily, sweetheart. I think you can take another one already. Can’t you?”

“Y-yes. San, please. I-I need more. Please.” You panted breathlessly. Just as you asked, he delivered.

He added another finger into your hole, slowly slipping them in and losing his fucking mind at how tight you were sucking his digits in. He could only imagine how heavenly it must feel when it was his cock instead.

“So fucking tight, sweetheart.” He bit his lip, slowly beginning to pump his fingers in and out of you, his fingers completely covered in your slick. “You like that, darling? Love how my fingers are filling you up?”

You nodded, gripping the mattress below you as your hips moved on their own, and words you’ve never thought you’d say out loud slipped past your lips. “W-want to feel you deeper. M-more please.”

San could only smile at your reaction before he latched his mouth again onto your clit while fingers curled inside of you. You swore at how easily he found that spot you desperately tried to find on your own in the privacy of your room. His fingers were thicker and your chaste walls welcomed them so easily. The way he touched you and pleasured you felt so good, you didn’t care about the lewd squelching sounds your pussy made as he fucked his fingers into you. You could even feel your arousal drip from your hole and onto the mattress.

His eyes were peacefully closed shut as he tasted you. It was as if he was savoring every single bit of you and this kind of attention was making a familiar warmth bloom in your chest.

“S-San, w-wait, I-I’m,” you stuttered out, feeling your core tighten, the familiar sensation of being on that edge far more intense than when you touched yourself alone.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he murmured against your core, releasing your overstimulated clit with a soft wet pop. “Cum for me. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

Something about what he said and how he flicked his tongue against your clit as his fingers mercilessly pumped and curled inside of you, sent you over the edge. You gasped as your hips trembled and your walls convulsed around his fingers, your climax making you shake and your mind go blank momentarily.

San hummed deeply, the vibration of the sound along with how he slowly lapped your release and moved his lips as he did, made some part of your brain melt.

He couldn’t get enough and he quite literally was acting as if this was his last meal on earth.

“S-Sannie, wait—ah!” He prolonged your organs with his lazy kisses and languid kitten licks.

Once he had gotten enough (though he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough), he parted from your lower lips to look at you through hooded eyes full of hunger and lust. It made your heart race.

With his eyes locked on yours, he thought his two fingers that had been inside of your heat to his lips and licked your essence off of it, a sudden heat passing through your body at the visual.

“You taste like heaven, sweetheart.” He moaned deeply, taking his time to taste you on his fingers.

“H-how about you?” You asked, your voice breathy and higher than its usual tone.

He caressed your thighs, lovingly as you came down from your high. “What about me sweetheart?”

Your hands caressed his toned stomach, tracing the lines of his abs and stopping before the waistband of his briefs.

“Do I get to taste you?”

San’s cock throbbed at your question that sounded so innocent from your lips. He wants to make this all about you but you were making it difficult for him to not be selfish and focus on making you feel good.

Still lightheaded from your orgasm, you sat up and crawled to San, the man before you gulping at the visual of you on your knees and seeing the beautiful shape of your back, it was like looking at a cat. You knelt by him, meeting his height before placing your hands on his shoulders and moving him to sit on the mattress with his back against the wall.

“I want to taste you, Sannie.” You purred, sitting a top of your folded legs, his own legs spread to make room for you.

He raised a brow watching you, amused at your actions. Even like this, he looked so attractive.

San smiled softly at you and caressed your cheek as you looked at him with round wide eyes. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

You nodded, experimentally teasing the imprint of his length in his briefs. His breath hitched at the mere touch of your fingertips, his excitement making his thighs tense.

“Teach me how?” You looked at him through your lashes and the sweet determined look you had turned him on even more.

You were rather shy that you asked him to show you but little did you know, that just sent his mind places. Was he really your first?

Curiously, you palmed his length making a shaky breath leave him. “Did that feel good Sannie?”

“F-fuck… y-yes. It felt good sweetheart.”

“Can I take it off?” You tugged at the waistband lightly and he nodded eagerly.

You pulled down his boxers and once the garment was down past his hips, his cock sprung free from its confines. It slapped against his hard abdomen and you felt your mouth water at the sight.

Not knowing what it’d do to him, you slowly wrapped your hand around his length to gauge his size and San hissed at the warmth of your soft palm. He was hot and stiff, and the pink head was glistening with a slick liquid. With your other hand, your fingertips spread his precum all over the bulbous round tip.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re torturing me.” He groaned the more you massaged this sensitive tip.

You felt your core tingle at the sight of his furrowed brows and his parted lips as you touched him. You wanted to make him feel good too.

“What do you want me to do, Sannie?” Your voice was so sweet.

“F-fuck, baby, spit on it a-and then wrap your pretty hand around me, okay?” His hand gently cupped the back of your neck.

A little hesitant but doing as he said, you spat on his cock, and the dirty sound and act of it made his cock twitch. You were guessing that you should spread it around and when he hummed, it told you, you were doing something right.

“Such a good girl, sweetheart.” He cooed. “Now wrap your hand around me. Fuuuck. Just like that.”

Feeling excited with all the praise he was giving, you kissed his neck slowly, doing as he did to you earlier.

“M-move your hand up and down, sweetheart.”

“O-okay.”

Your saliva mixed with his precum gave lubrication for you to easily glide your hand up and down his shaft.

“That’s it, baby. That feels so good. Fuck.” He moaned. “Come here, let me kiss you.”

You do as he says and kiss with his, moving your lips with his, and your core clenched when you could taste a sweet yet slightly salty flavor on your lips. Was that you? The fact you were tasting yourself on his lips turned you on.

The two of you stayed like that; making out while your hand pumped his cock, feeling his girth and his length. You couldn’t help but wonder how he’d feel inside of you but you wanted to taste him first like you said.

You pulled away from his lips and they pouted at the loss of them but he couldn’t stay disappointed for long, not when your tongue just did a kitten lick on his sensitive tip.

“Fuck, sweetheart, are you really sure?” He moaned, not wanting to force you. He was happy enough that you had been jerking him off. You really didn’t have to return the favor if you didn’t want to.

“Mhm.” You hummed, following your instincts and taking his leaking tip in your mouth, while your hand continued to move up and down his shaft.

His taste made your head spin and your clit throb. You liked the taste of him, it was a little salty but it was just him.

“Shit-,” he threw his head back, his other hand gripping the mattress as you licked and suckled at his tip. “That feels so good. Fuck. Don’t stop. Such a good girl using your pretty mouth on me. Do I taste good?”

You hummed so cutely as a yes. God, he’d do anything for you. How were you this cute?

“Do you think you can take more of my cock in your mouth? You think you can take it?”

His dirty talk made you even wetter and you were sure that you were dripping at this point.

Could you take it? There was only one way to find out.

Breathing through your nose and flattening out your tongue, you slipped his cock deeper almost choking when the hot tip touched the back of your throat but you against your gag reflex and tried to mimic what your hand had been doing. You slowly moved your head up and down, bobbing rhythmically on his cock.

San moaned breathily. This was your first time taking cock in your mouth? “You’re a fucking natural, baby. Fuck. That feels good. You look so pretty like this. Could cum just watching you.”

What you couldn’t take in your mouth, you made up for with your hand, earning more moans from San. You liked this. You liked making him feel good. You liked having his cock inside your mouth, you wanted to taste more than his cock.

You wanted more.

“Fuck,” he swore when he felt you bravely take a little deeper, feeling the way the start of your throat constricted at the intrusion of his cock. “Sweetheart, if you keep doing that—,”

You bobbed your head faster, not caring that you were making such lewd slurping and sucking sounds. He had done the same for you and at that moment you understood why he had enjoyed tasting you.

San’s thighs began to clench and his core tightened further. His knuckles were turning white at how hard he was gripping the mattress in one hand while the other grabbed your ass, making you yelp and take more of him deeper in your throat, which pushed him over the edge.

There was a cute surprised squeak that came from you which was the cherry on top of him spilling his load inside your mouth. Your eyes widened as you felt his hot release go down your throat and they fluttered close as you savored the taste of him.

San was losing it when he felt your throat move as you swallowed his cum. He didn’t know you were going to do that. What’s making his head spin further and making his hazy orgasmic bliss last longer was how you kept him inside your mouth, just the tip, and licking the slit of his cock head.

You pulled away, his cock falling on his stomach, still hard and you sat so cutely in between his legs as he panting and coming down from his high.

You wiped the edge of your mouth and licked what was left of him on your lips.

“Sannie tastes good.”

You didn’t know you had said that out loud in such a soft manner that made San swoon.

San like a cat, pounced on you.

He was once again all over you. Your back was against the mattress as he found his place between your thighs. You eyed his cock, still hard and glistening from when it had been in your mouth. Your walls clenched when San wrapped his own hand around his pretty cock and pressed the head against your clit making you whimper.

San rubbed the tip of his cock through your slit, spreading your slick and coating himself with it. You were so drenched that it was driving him crazy, he wanted to bury his cock deep inside you so bad but when his eyes met the long scar smiling from one hip bone to the other. He wanted to take his time. For you.

“Y/N,” he said softly, holding your hips with care. Even though you told him that he couldn’t break what was broken, he wouldn’t want to think of breaking you. In fact, he wanted to make you feel full, whole, and complete. He wanted to care for you in a way you deserved. “Am I your first?”

The sudden question threw you off. It made you realize that he was going to be your first. Concepts like those shouldn’t matter to you especially since you didn’t have the time to think of such a thing.

“Y-yes…” you admitted, relaxing a little. “You’re the first person to ever kiss me too. I want you to be my first, Sannie.” Your heart was aching while your body burned for him. “And if this is our last night alive, I wouldn’t have imagined anyone else being my first and my last. I’m glad…it’s you.”

San didn’t know if this was the right time to say the three words he’d been dying to say to you for so long. “For me…” he slowly moved his hips, rubbing his length between your slick folds, making your face relax into that flushed blissful expression.

“It’s always been you.”

You didn’t have time to think or question what that meant. Not when the tip of his cock teased at your entrance, just pressing against it.

Slowly, he let the head pop inside your cunt, both of you gasping. The girth of his cock stretched you out more than you could ever with your two fingers and there was a slight sting as he entered, making you bite your lip and whimper.

But he was attentive.

San intertwined his fingers with yours while his other hand held your hip still as he slowly, little by little, inch by inch, pushed his cock deeper into your tight wet heat. The velvety warmth of your walls made his head spin and the way they hugged his cock was heaven. The carnal part inside of him wanted nothing more than to thrust deeply into you and have you falling apart for him.

“S-Sannie, m-more.”

He growled lowly. Despite this being your first time, the wetness of your heat made his cock slip in so easily. Both of you watched as his cock split your lower lips apart and how his length slowly disappeared into you. You were bewildered that San was inside of you. You never knew just how badly you wanted to be close to him until tonight.

The circumstances were dire, it was hopeless but you had him.

“I want to feel more.” You squeezed his hand as he pushed his hips a little further. “Y-you’re so thick.”

San must be dreaming.

You brought your free hand over your mouth as the sensation of being filled up was such a pleasure you’ve never felt before. It was too much and not enough at the same time.

“You’re taking me so well, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.”

He cooed and praised you for each inch you took of him and there was something about the heat of him inside you, spreading apart your chaste walls that made your thighs shiver as he bottomed out.

San let out a long exhale, cursing as he felt his whole length be snuggly embraced by your velvety warm walls. He could even feel your arousal coat him and drip out of your entrance. He was ascending. He was the closest he could ever get to the person he’s only ever seen as the love of his life.

You looked so beautiful before him. How could you be so bashful yet exuding such allure? Your hand squeezed his as you adjusted to his cock inside of you, he could even feel the way your walls squeeze and contracted as you did. Fuck. He was your first. The first man to ever have the privilege to be this close to you, to feel you, and to see you in a state so vulnerable that you hid from everyone.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” San asked, massaging your hips to help you relax. You were squeezing him so tight. “Does it hurt?”

His sweet voice and the care in them made your heart crack. What did you do to deserve someone like Choi San?

“N-not really. It’s just…new.” You whimpered when the head of his cock that was in your mouth earlier was snug against your cervix. “I-I can feel you.”

That made San’s head spin. “Y-yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, holding his hand and looking into his eyes. “I…feel…you.”

Each word held so much weight and emotion that San couldn’t stop himself from leaning down and crashing his lips on yours. He could feel you too and he loved the feeling of you. He drew his hips back just a little, slowly giving you shallow thrusts to get you used to him. You gasped at the sensation of his cock gliding and scraping your walls, the friction so sinfully and mind-numbingly good.

San continued to kiss you, his tongue delving into your warm wet mouth, the two of you kissing messily as his cock eased its way out of your walls leaving only the tip in. You squirmed. The first taste of the motion of his length inside you sparked a rush that felt addicting and when he easily slid back into you again, it confirmed that growing addiction.

“S-Sannie!” You cried out, arms wrapping around him, holding onto him as he stroked your walls deeply.

“F-fuck, Y/N, you feel so good.” He groaned, burying his face into your neck, kissing the spots he hadn’t marked with love bites.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, your lust mixing with greed as you needed more of the feeling that San was giving you. You’ve never felt so much in your time of being alive. It was new. It was something you never had before.

The deep passionate rolls of hips with every intention to make you feel pleasure, the hot kisses on your neck, the sweet nothings he’d whisper, and the gentle caresses on your body. It made you dizzy, you’ve never lost yourself in something so…euphoric.

As San continued to glide his cock in and out of your tight heat, with his forehead against your chest, his eyes met that scar on below your belly once more, his heart aching. Why did they take that away from you? It was so cruel of them.

His emotions were all mixed up. You two might not live to see another day after this night and the two of you acting on your emotions and passions that had been suppressed for so long were both overwhelming. Plus the truth of what happened to you during your Academy days hurt him.

All he knew was he wanted to you to feel all of him. To make you feel his love and desire for you with every touch, every kiss, and every strong drive of his hips.

The passion and the way you two had been showing it to one another became more carnal as the lust muddled both your brains with nothing but unspoken love and the need to just fuck.

San’s hips picked up their pace. He thrusted and drove into you so deeply, each scrape and glide of his length inside you made his fat cock head kiss your cervix and pound into that one spot that sent you shivering and moaning.

San liked those sounds of yours. Accompanied by the lewd wet squelching and the sound of skin slapping against skin, it was driving him crazy.

“You feel that, sweetheart?” He placed his palm just below where your scar was, where he was fucking you. “That’s me.”

“C-can feel you, Sannie! Oh god,” you cried out, nails digging into his back. You could feel him waking up every fiber of your being with pleasure. “Want to feel more of you. D-don’t stop, please. Want you. I want you.” You were rambling mindlessly too lost in the pleasure, too lost in the heat of his thick cock filling you up.

“I won’t stop, baby. Can’t stop. I need you so bad. You need me to right? Fuck,” he felt you squeeze him tighter. “I’ll make you feel good, Y/N.” He moved his palm lower to find your sensitive pearl all puffy and sticky with your arousal.

Your back arched into him as he massaged your clit.

“You look so beautiful,” he whispered, fucking you til you both get your fill. Even if you both came now, he doesn’t think he’ll have enough of you. He wanted to fuck you so passionately. He wanted to drink what he could of you as this might just be your last night together. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes!” You croaked out, panting with each thrust of his cock. “W-wanna cum, Sannie. P-please.”

“Don’t worry, pretty. I’ll make you cum. I’ll fucking make you cum.” He growled, his hips picking up their pace. Your mouth fell open. The new pace had his cock hitting your g-spot at such a rapid pace you couldn’t think at all. All you knew was you wanted him to keep fucking you.

“H-harder. Need to feel you deeper.” You whined, hugging him close and your words only made the man before you go feral.

The snap of his hips shook your whole body with pleasure that only crescendoed your bliss further into euphoria. That tight knot within your tummy was reaching its limit. With how San was moaning and groaning against your neck, and how his fingers on your clit glided so easily with your slick was sending you over the edge.

You chanted his name over and over so breathlessly, your nails digging deeper into San’s back.

Snap!

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as your walls clamped down around San, your thighs and hips convulsing uncontrollably as pleasure swooped through your body. You couldn’t help the way your nails clawed down his back which made the man before you moan brokenly as his hips stilled and glued against you.

Heat began to fill your walls and your womb as you came hard. San’s thigh muscles were taut as he emptied what he could into you. It was driving him crazy. Your walls were sucking him in a way where his cum just kept flowing til he had nothing more to give you.

“S-Sa—,” you didn’t have to finish calling out for him before he leaned forward to capture your lips. The kiss was slow and lingering…it was gentle and deep.

“I’ve got you,” he said briefly leaving the kiss to take a moment to straighten his back to look at you before him.

You were glowing. Your beautiful skin was covered with a thin sheen of sweat that made you glisten beneath the moonlight and your face was flushed. Your eyes looked up at him hazily, blinking prettily as you were still in your high. His eyes then drifted to where the two of you were still connected. Your puffy lips were split around his cock and you couldn’t help but look down there too.

Slowly, he slid himself out inch by inch. You whimpered at the loss of fullness but when you saw the pink cock head slip out and his length slam against his abdomen coated in your slick and pearly white release? Your walls clenched around nothing. With his thumb, he pulled one of your lower lips gently to get a good look at your pink pussy and his eyes darkened once more when he saw his cum leak out your pulsing hole.

San spread his release all over your pussy, his cat-like eyes curious and staring deeply at where he ‘marked’ you in his way.

“M-more.”

Did he imagine that?

“S-Sannie,” you spread your lips apart for him, making him swallow the lump in his throat. His eyes went to your face, his head spinning when you looked at him with such want and need. Could you look at him like that forever? “M-more. Need to feel you more.”

With San….you never had to ask him twice.

With the same passion and desire as he did earlier if not more, he was on you again. This time the two of you didn’t care about being gentle. You two were desperate for one another. Utterly desperate.

Then you found yourself locked against San with his arm around your waist, your back pressing against his body as he fucked deeply into you without thought. Your bodies were sticky as your shared heat kept you both hot, the cold forgotten as he pounded into you.

You moaned over and over for him, the sound a beautiful melody to his ears.

“I-I don’t think I can stop.” He rasped against your ear, slamming his pelvis against your ass filling your cunt up to the brim with his cock. “I don’t want to stop,” San growled while you cried as he slammed particularly deep, the new position making him reach that spongy spot inside you so fucking easily.

He’s gonna make love to you til you both are absolutely spent. Til he was empty and til you fell apart and had enough of him.

In that little walled-off prison you two were in, the two of you indulged in ways you both could never have during your time in the Academy. Boundaries they programmed into you were broken, lines were crossed and two beating hearts were fully awakened…and for the first time, truly, alive.

Then…when it was done…when that night passed and dawn broke. Those two hearts remained in each other’s arms, embracing one another as they feared for what the morrow would bring.

Not knowing that San would have to keep the promise he kept you.

“You deserve more than this life. You should be able to live freely and to love freely. Leave all this behind. Leave me behind.”

But he wasn’t going to leave you behind.

He could never.

-- feel free to scream in my askbox!

TAGLIST : @endeav0rsb1tch @eastleighsblog @scarfac3 @deadgirlwalking3 @ddaeing @lexiigom @lesyeuxdeanna @ja3hwa @prettyjewel93 @dear-dreamie @ashrocker123 @kookibuns @i2hyun0 @kpopismyescape23 @alex-tinyy @hyukssunflower @honeypaintedskies @jinnieboosworld @dawn-iscozy @moonchildushine @asjkdk @voicesinmyhead-rc @not-everything-is-so-primitive @atinytinaa @songmingisthighs @sanniesbum @angellluh @teenyfinds @vannabanana1995 @huachengsbestie01 @lovinghologramtrash @anxiousskylar @megseungmin @chnt1 @dezmybelovedddd @khuyyn @trippoverrt @liniiiaa @caityelise99 @mismatchfluffysocks @venn-ie @unlikelysublimekryptonite @staytinyville @tinybada @awkward-fucking-thing @bloomingsann @cheesemonky @nakiiko @littlestarwoo @sharksandminhos

[byoldervine]

How To Always Have Writing Ideas…

For A New Story:

1. Keep a list. Any time you have one of those sudden bursts of inspiration in the middle of writing a separate story, don’t quit your current WIP or pretend you’ll ‘just remember it’, put it into a separate list. You can always go back to this later on

2. Writing prompts. Look them up, use random word generators, pick a random object you can see, whatever helps you come up with any idea at all. Write a few paragraphs. Can it evolve from there?

3. People watch. Go to a public place and make up backstories for the strangers you come across. That man in the hat is using it to hide his elf ears. That woman with the bright pink hair didn’t dye it, she’s secretly the main character of an anime trying to dodge all the tropes and cliches. That toddler is actually a guardian angel reincarnated to watch over their new baby sibling. What brings them to this place? Where did they come from? Where are they going next?

To Continue An Existing Story:

1. Act it out. Say the words aloud, act out what your characters are doing, get props or people to act off of if you need to. See what feels like the most natural progression of the moment

2. Coffee shop AU, or other substitutional one-shot. Good for establishing dynamics between two or more characters, or even just working out a lone character’s day-to-day. Just write a few paragraphs about your characters entering a coffee shop or similar appropriate establishment/ordinary location. What do they do? What do they order to eat/drink? What do they say to each other? How do they treat the staff and other customers? If all else fails, write what they do after they leave, as if it were an ordinary day for them

3. Rubber duck it. This is something programmers use to work out where they went wrong in their code, but I’ve found it can work for figuring out story stuff as well. What you do is get a rubber duck, or any other object of focus, and start explaining your problem to it out loud. In this case you can read your chapter to the duck, or even give it the full run-down of the plot so far. Warning; side effects may include getting frustrated that the problem was right in front of you and subsequently throwing the duck

For Both:

1. Writing graveyards. I talked a bit about them in a previous post, but writing graveyards are basically just the folder you store your deleted scenes in instead of yeeting them into the void. Reread those, see if they have anything you can recontextualise or repurpose

2. Combine ideas. My WIP Byoldervine is a combination of two separate plots I had that I realised I’d be able to combine - twice. I first realised I could put together my ‘angel and demon heroes protecting humans from a war between heaven and hell’ story and my ‘quest through the fantasy realm to find the ingredients to a cure for a dying god’ story into the same universe as two sides of the same story as a duology. Then I realised I could just remove a few characters, tweak a few plot points and mash them completely together into one book. Combining them works wonders and minimises worldbuilding

3. Go out with friends or family. I guarantee that the one time you’ll be flooded with inspiration is when you don’t have an opportunity to write it down

[jjkamochoso]

The Perfect Fit

Story Overview: Levi Ackerman begrudgingly finds himself falling in love with the Survey Corps’ seamstress. Will they be able to own up to their feelings for each other? Or is their love doomed to fail before they discover the truths of each other’s hearts? This slow burn reader insert story will be filled with angst, yearning, and a bit of mystery as we slowly unravel the truths behind Y/N’s past… and explore her and Levi’s future!

Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2 linked here

Levi Ackerman x female reader

Warnings: cussing

You grunted, lifting the last box into the cart and feeling relief that your sore arms could take a break for the short ride over to the Scout Regiment. You slipped your foot into the saddle of the horse, brought your other leg up and over, and started on your journey. You wanted to enjoy the feeling of wind in your hair and sunshine on your face this fine summer day, but frankly, you were too exhausted to give a damn. Your fingers were numb, your wrists cramped, your eyes dry. You were up all night mending the Survey Corps uniforms. As the resident seamstress, tailor, and only person skilled enough at embroidery, you were always busy, but no time were you more overwhelmed with work than after the group comes back from an expedition. Most, if not all, soldiers’ uniforms had holes of every size that needed to be patched. Pants, jackets, capes—each had to be in working order and acceptable in appearance as fast as possible. There was never enough money allotted to the Scouts to buy new uniforms as often as they should and sometimes you were even left working with clothes of the deceased to clean and repurpose for their living comrades. The whole situation was messed up, sure, but with severe lack of resources, especially with Titans taking up the valuable real estate needed to cultivate more, you understood that you had to make do. And so, you did. Just because something is a necessity doesn’t make it any easier to work with, though. You took to your face a handkerchief to dab away the accumulated sweat as your horse neighed and the cart slowly came to a halt in front of barracks. You were afraid that when you dismounted, your legs would give out in exhaustion, but you mentally slapped yourself. There was no way you would show an ounce of weakness in front of the people who give their lives just to keep you safe. Before you could give it any more thought, a voice called out to you.

“Y/n! Welcome! I trust everything is here?”

Commander Erwin walked toward you, halting his conversation with a shorter man who looked displeased at the interruption, but nevertheless made his way to you as well.

“Hello, Commander. Yes, all of the Scouts’ uniforms are in here, mended and ready to wear.” You slid off your horse and thankfully didn’t fall over. “Where should I unload the boxes?”

“Captain Levi will show you where they go. If you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to get to.”

Your eyes went wide when you realized who the man in front of you was.

“Captain Levi,” you said, a smile gracing your face, “it’s an honor to finally meet you, sir. I rarely receive your articles of clothing to fix. You must truly be as good as they say if you can avoid snagging your cape in the tree branches.”

Levi had an unreadable look on his face as he let out a “tch.” You were about to say something else when Hange came running over.

“Y/n!” They screamed in excitement, dragging out the last syllable of your name. You were greeted with a big hug from your friend and you felt the tiredness slip away from your body for a brief moment.

“Hange! I haven’t see you in forever! I made sure to stitch up your shirt extra well and took great care to make sure it was straight as can be.”

“Aww, I am your favorite-”

“Isn’t that your job?” Levi interjected, looking annoyed as ever.

You were confused by what he meant. “I’m sorry?”

“Your job. Isn’t it your job to make sure the stitches are straight? Why are you bragging about doing your job the way it’s supposed to be done?”

You felt your face warm in embarrassment. You weren’t expecting to make a fool out of yourself, especially in front of someone as important as the captain, yet here you were. You should’ve heeded everyone’s advice to avoid talking to him or near him at all costs. Hange punched him in the arm, presumably for being so rude around their friend, but you answered him before a fight ensued.

“I don’t have a sewing machine,” you muttered.

Levi raised his hand to his ear, signaling you to speak up. You took a deep breath, frustrated at his attitude.

“I said, I don’t have a sewing machine. I mend everybody’s clothes by hand, by myself, with a turn around time of basically nothing.” You felt yourself getting heated and you knew it was because you were tired, but you kept going. “I fix undergarments, shirts, pants, jackets, and capes for 150 people at a time. I scrub blood from the dead’s clothes until my own fingers bleed because we don’t have enough material for me not to. I’m sorry my standards aren’t high enough for you, Captain, but sometimes I can only work extra hard on one person’s uniform. If I took the time to be that precise with everyone’s, your cadets would be fighting the titans just as naked as they are.” You felt your eyes start to water but you were determined to keep your cool. “Now, please show me where these boxes go. I have lots of work that needs to be done.”

No more words were exchanged as you, Levi, and Hange moved the boxes to an empty room inside barracks. When the work was done and Hange bid you farewell, it was just you and the moody captain alone again. Your horse could sense the tension between you two, stamping the ground in light distress, and you both reached out to soothe the animal. Well, him being an animal lover makes you like him the tiniest bit more. Alas, you knew you had to make verbal amends or else you’d risk getting reprimanded by whatever higher ups caught wind of the situation that you weren’t giving 110% on your work (that inevitably gets ruined the next time the cadets get too rough during training, but you digress).

“Look, Captain, I sincerely apologize for my behavior. I know I technically don’t work under you but you’re still an officer and deserve respect. Just know that I am trying my best to work under these rough conditions, as are you and your team. I hope I didn’t offend you or undermine the importance of your team’s uniforms.” You lowered your head in a slight bow to show your remorse.

“Raise your head, dumbass. It’s fine,” he said, monotone as usual, and he walked away. When he was out of earshot, you groaned. You were lucky that you and Erwin were close or else you figured you’d be fired immediately for your lack of tact toward a superior. Mounting your horse once more, you rode back to your workshop for some much needed rest. With your horse squared away in its stable, you locked your front door behind you and took off your shoes, feeling your pain creep up. You went upstairs to your living area and sleep overtook you as soon as your head hit your pillow.

The next morning, you awoke to a soft knock at your door. It was much too early for any tailoring appointments you had, so after you yawned, you called out, “just a minute!” to let the person know you were on the way. However, when you opened the door, you weren’t greeted with a human, but a sewing machine! You stood in shock for a few moments before sweeping it into your arms, cradling it like a baby. As much as you never wanted to let go of the machine, you put it on your work table to read the note that was attached.

“ALL my soldiers deserve to be fitted with the best uniforms from the best seamstress. Also, go to the damn medic. Your fingers are fucking disgusting.”

If it weren’t for the note, you would’ve thought Hange got you the gift, but no—it must have been Levi! You couldn’t help but giggle at what he wrote as you looked down at your hands. He was right, of course. Your fingers had blisters all over them from sewing too much. He must’ve noticed them when you were moving boxes, or maybe when you touched your horse? Either way, he has a hell of an eye for detail because you were never all that close to him yesterday. Rereading the note, you felt your heart skip a beat. He definitely cared deeply about people, much more than he let on, which was apparent in the way he sourced a literal sewing machine for you in under 24 hours, a feat that few could pull off in these times. But he was just being a concerned captain, that’s all. There was nothing more to his actions, no hidden feelings or anything cheesy like that.

Right?

Chapter 2

[hold-him-down]

Belleview Chapter Two: Triage

Notes: Don't believe anything I say about medicine, politics, or the workings of government agencies.

Belleview: Chapter 1

TW: Institutionalized slavery, a little tiny bit heavy on the exposition

✥ ✥ ✥

As far as ‘day one’s go, Lincoln thinks, it could have been worse. That is the best he can offer himself now. He looks down at his hands, which feel, no matter how many times he scrubs them, as if they are still covered in the blood, both metaphorical and physical, of the residents. They did not ask for his help, and by most metrics do not seem to want his help, and yet still, he is here. Helping? It weighs heavily on him. His hands shake, a product of adrenaline and exhaustion and, maybe, partly of desperation for some kind of emotional release.

Organizing the volunteers had gone smoothly enough. He had four doctors, eight nurses, and fifteen good samaritans (and a list of hundreds of others who were ready to step in if more help was needed), all eager to find their place in this beautiful hellscape.

After the former handler, Jared, was escorted to a waiting police car, Lincoln took a deep breath and rounded up the crew. The de facto Commissioner for the splintered Department of Labor Services in Florida, once responsible for the privatization and trafficking of low-level criminals and now responsible for sorting out the undoing of that system itself, estimated that there would be additional guidance available within two weeks and, between him and Lincoln, suspected that ultimately the residents would be placed in a sort of ‘foster’ situation, where they would be pseudo-adopted into the homes of long time opposers of the system while they accessed medical care and were slowly reintegrated. It was all a lot to stomach, and for his part, Lincoln tried not to look too closely. It was clear that the residents here all, at minimum, required some degree of inpatient medical treatment, and he was qualified to provide that, if nothing else. 

Lincoln had been contracted for four weeks, with the soft warning that it would likely extend beyond that, and the sincere gratitude of the Commissioner as well as a slew of other high ranking officials. His work is important, he was told countless times. It’ll be a hard job, but they can think of no better hands than his to leave the care of these men in. 

After accepting the position, Lincoln began forming something of a plan. He was given a budget and a list of items already at the site. He was sent lists of hundreds and hundreds of doctors, nurses, cooks, mechanics, police officers, former handlers, teachers… anything he could think of, he had available to him. People from across the country offered their support in any way they could. He selected his team, his backup team, and held a list of other local residents that he could rely on for support.

The initial team was small but mighty, fierce in their dedication to help. Four doctors. Five, including him. Twenty-one residents (with only twenty files, but that was for another day). Eight nurses. Fifteen volunteers. Enough for every resident to receive medical attention, with extra volunteers to sort out groceries and clothing and removal of the evidence of what had happened here, with extras to help keep everything flowing.

It was experimental, and no one knew exactly what it would look like. But this team was ready to throw themselves wholly into early recompense and that was all he needed. They would work the rest out as they went.

✥ ✥ ✥

The volunteers look to him for guidance as he enters the conference room and, given that he has run through his plan a hundred times in his head by now, he wastes no time in laying out the loose threads of what he is calling the ‘plan.’ There are people working throughout the building, sealing off some unused wings, repurposing others. They are irrelevant to what Lincoln is doing and have no impact on the residents he now oversees. They will not enter this unit, and his group will not be asked to leave. It does not matter what happens beyond the walls of C-wing anymore. 

There are two empty rooms at the end of the longest, main corridor, that were previously used for something adjacent to medical exams. This is not exactly the highest priority, but the easiest to get started. 

“Yang, Richmond, Jacoby, and Gilman,” Lincoln says, scanning the volunteers as people identify themselves. He hands them each a sheet of paper with a list of items that each room should have. “A truck should be arriving within the next thirty minutes,” he continues. “Start clearing out the exam rooms of anything not on this list, sanitize the hell out of them, and then work with the delivery people to get them set up. Use the south entrance so no one is wandering the halls. They’ll need to be fully functional by tomorrow at the latest.” The volunteers take to task quickly, and Lincoln moves to the next on his list.

“DeLuca and Dhar,” he says next. “Groceries were delivered earlier, let’s get everything put away. There was a large break room for the handlers here,” he says, as he points to the map on the tablet, “but no cafeteria. To the extent possible, clear it out. There are bins for anything that you find that looks remotely criminal. We’ve been asked to refrain from discarding the personal effects of the handlers or anything that might need to be reviewed down the line. Everything can go into storage, someone will come pick it up at some point this evening.”

They exit, and Lincoln is left standing with the medical staff and a small handful of remaining volunteers. He assigns four to scrubbing the common areas of all traces of abuse, the hope being that the residents can eventually comfortably navigate the wing without fear of encountering excessive reminders of their own suffering.  

“We’re going to start triaging,” he says to the medical team. “We have more volunteers ready if we need them, but I am concerned about overwhelming the residents with too much…” He gestures, and is met with nods and muted agreements. “Just, with too much.”

The residents are all, as of this moment, still locked in their rooms. Every doctor has already been assigned a caseload, the files sent out the day before, with each resident grouped first based on the severity of their need for medical attention, and second on their proximity to one another. The most severe cases get seen by the doctors first, with the nurses doing preliminary exams on the less severe cases and making modifications to the plan as needed. 

Lincoln expects four residents to require the most substantial medical support. The local hospital is prepared to provide aid in diagnostic testing, scans, or large scale inpatient procedures in the event that those needed, but all units are overwhelmed by the sudden influx of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of people who require care and are in the first wave of full release.

Triage first, he reminds himself. Each of them has four or five men total to see, and he watches as they make their own plans with the nurses on their team. 

Lincoln has one file and two patients. River London, a twenty-four year old man who has been in the system for three years and in Belleview for two of those, and “Felix,” whose file is uniquely absent. The handler told him that Felix had come to Belleview a year prior, and that he wasn’t sure if the handlers were ever told his real name, but if they were, no one remembered it. They estimated his age to be around twenty-two, and the information available was all from the past year. The DOH was working to trace his origins but, to Lincoln’s understanding, his file had been sealed when he was assigned to Belleview, and unsealing it was low in the list of priorities.

“I’m Philip,” the nurse who stands next to him says, holding out his hand. “Reed. I came down from Maryland, I’ve been working with the DoLS there to help organize and staff pop-up clinics in underdeveloped cities with heavy influxes of former workers for the last couple years.”

Lincoln nods and shakes his hand. “Lincoln Prescott,” he says. He doesn’t offer any details beyond that, although Philip’s expectant gaze lingers for a moment too long.

“Did you pick the short straw or volunteer for this?” he asks as Lincoln grabs the lone file from the table.

“A little of both, I guess,” Lincoln responds, flipping open River’s file.

The good news, he thinks, is that there are ample state of the art medical supplies littered throughout the unit already. All of the volunteers brought their own supplies as well, but there is a fully stocked pharmacy and most basic supplies already in house. The bad news is that he is not one hundred percent sure where the volunteers are at with sorting through everything, and if he has to wade through sixty years worth of whips, chains, shock collars, restraints, or whatever other torture devices live within these walls, he might have a nervous breakdown before he even gets started.

The volunteers disperse, the remaining extras assigned out to sorting deliveries and, hopefully, removing any obvious remnants of what this building used to stand for.

Lincoln closes his eyes and talks himself through what the next hour will look like. Minimally, he reassures himself, he has an amazing team and the residents are in good hands. They will be given food, blankets, phones or tablets, books. They will be treated with kindness. They did not ask for their help and he will likely be met with resistance, but it is a consequence of years or abuse, and his intent here is to help. There is a voice, soft but persistent in the back of his mind, that keeps him grounded in the reality that, at least on some level, he will be acting as a captor in a new kind of prison for these men.

If he is met with resistance, he reminds himself now, he will modify his course. He will act as a stepping stone toward freedom and that is all he can do right now. His job today, within the walls of the workers’ rooms, is straightforward. When he’s done talking himself down, he stands straighter, shoves the file into his bag, and makes way to 19-C.

✥ ✥ ✥ 

Belleview Taglist:

@pigeonwhumps @peachy-panic @whump-cravings @pirefyrelight @i-eat-worlds

@taterswhump @squishablesunbeam @inpainandsuffering @distinctlywhumpthing @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: Jaehyun finds a cute little café with a cuter owner on the first day of his vacation. Pairing: Jaehyun x fem!reader Tropes: spring break au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language Smut Warnings: face fucking, degradation, name calling, slight dacryphilia Word Count: 1,875 Note: Thank you to @baljinciaga​ for beta/proofreading this!!

WITT Masterlist ៚ Chapter 2: Bikinis and Bathhouses

“Yo, this place is fuckin’ nice!” Mingyu bellows the moment they enter the bungalow.

“You’re the one who booked it. I’d hope you’d think it’s nice.” Youngkyun pokes.

He slips past the older and heads straight to the room he had been assigned to share with San. Changmin follows behind, wheeling his suitcase with him. Passing by the oversized sectional and the stairway, he finds his place in the master suite. Though Kino does complain about the red hair man getting the suite, it is only fair. He put the largest portion of money into the rental and should have the biggest space.

“Enjoy that couch, Mingyu. You’ll be sleeping there for the next week.” Jaehyun teases, “Maybe if you had put more into your idea, you wouldn’t be sleeping there.”

Mingyu grumbles but tosses his bag into the corner and flops onto the L-shaped sectional. Jaehyun climbs the flight of stairs and finds his roommate, Kino, already lounging on his chosen bed. Jaehyun takes one look at the garishly ugly cyan bedding and sighs. At least the view was nice, he could easily watch the beach outside his window, and by proxy, people watch as well. He has no idea how Mingyu managed to get a bungalow directly on the beach for the price he did, but he won’t complain.

“When are you thinking about going down there?” Hyunguu asks.

“Not today. I was gonna get changed and wander around the village. Did you wanna tag along?” the brunette replies.

“Nah, I’m gonna get settled for a little. That plane ride took me out.”

Jaehyun nods and grabs a random t-shirt and a pair of shorts from his bag to get changed. He ends up in a rather bland ensemble; a black t-shirt and black shorts. He puts on one of his silver chains to give some diversity to what he’s wearing. He overhears Youngkyun and San chatting about something when he exits his room. He can’t be bothered to eavesdrop, though. Once down the stairs, he sees Mingyu and Changmin lounging on their phones on the sectional. He asks them if they want to join him, but they’re still recovering from the flight, just like his other friends.

The village is cute enough; nothing jumps out at him, but nothing seems too boring. It’s a small village. He didn’t expect it to be a party town or anything like that. He sees a small cafe on one of the side streets and decides to go check it out. It’s a small little building. It seems to have been repurposed due to how the structure looks like the original architecture of the village. Other places look newer and more modern. He likes how this place looks, though; it has character in a good way.

The bell at the top of the door chimes quietly when he enters. He sees a girl behind the counter. She’s clearly bored out of her mind leaning over the counter. There’s no one person in the small building besides the two. She’s scrolling through her phone and hasn’t even said a word to Jaehyun; she hasn’t even looked up from her phone yet, for that matter.

“Excuse me,” he cuts through the silence, “are you open?”

You look up at him and immediately start sizing him up. You’ve never seen him before. Not many people know about your little village when the city is less than an hour away. He’s pretty. He’s really pretty. The way his hair is just wavy enough to give texture but not wavy enough to be frizzy (also thanks to the lower humidity today). The chocolate locks are mixed with bits of highlights. They aren’t overdone or too contrasting from the brown, but there enough to show.

“Yeah,” you nod, “it’s just not busy. It’s never really busy.”

“Well, you got time to tell me about this place?” he asks.

“There’s not much to know, honestly. How about I get you a drink, and then I’ll tell you.”

“Buying me a drink already? I don’t even know your name.”

“I never said it was on the house.” you tease back, and tell him your name in an offhanded comment, “Do you want a tea, coffee, fruity drink?”

“I’m Jaehyun. You can just surprise me with the drink.” he shrugs.

You start making a coffee for him. He seems like a black coffee kind of guy, but in this heat, an Iced Americano is the best bet. He just watches you for a while. His eye practically burn holes through you. When you hand him his drink, he smirks at you.

“I guess you know how to read people well.” he pats the bar stool beside him, “Come sit and tell me about this place. Though I’m much more interested in you.”

“I am working, you know.” you tease again, still coming around the counter to sit beside him.

“Didn’t you just tell me that it’s never really busy here?” he raises his eyebrow at you.

You sigh and start telling him about the village. Being born and raised here, you were raised to know everything about this place. You tell him what your grandparents told you about growing up. A whole lot of folklore and culture that not many people know about. He’s not paying attention much; you know that. His eyes have been scanning all over you since you sat down. Even when he sips on his coffee, he’s still fixated on you. Honestly, you would be doing the same if you didn’t get randomly lost in a rant about one of the folklore stories that doesn’t make sense to you to this day.

“So, did you remember any of that?” you ask, knowing he didn’t remember a thing.

“Honestly, much rather learn about you.”

“What about me?” you ask.

You lean forward, putting your elbows against the counter, and rest your head against your interlocked hands. You know exactly where this is leading, and you won’t stop it. You haven’t had the chance to hook up with anyone nearly as attractive as the man in front of you. It’s not often you see any new faces around here. Even when you go to the city, you don’t often get to have a hookup.

“You own this place?” “Yeah, it’s a family-owned business, but my parents retired.” you explain, “Are we going to continue with these mundane conversations, or are we going to skip right to the fun part?”

“Damn, right to the point.”

“You aren’t subtle, Jaehyun.” you chuckle.

His phone buzzes, and he checks it almost immediately. You can see him replying to a text. He writes back a reply as quickly as humanly possible before looking back at you. A smirk paints itself across his lips.

“Well,” he starts, “if you’re down, my housemates are all at the beach right now. We’ll be completely undisturbed.”

“How can you be sure they won’t come busting in while we’re at it?”

“They won’t.” he says definitively.

“So reassuring.” you tease, “I guess it couldn’t hurt to close early today. Give me ten minutes.”

He nods, and you go about your business shutting down everything you need to. Understandably, your mind was in other places, so you’re running on autopilot as you clean. His eyes follow you around the small cafe. The heat of his stare only serves to make you feel more ready to leave. You toss your apron on the hook next to the door to the storage room and then grab your bag. Jaehyun’s waiting by the door when you finally return to his side. He’s just as excited as you are despite him trying to seem calm and collected on the surface.

“Shall we be off?” he asks, pushing the door open for you.

“We shall.” you smirk.

“Oh fuck,” he groans.

You drop to your knees when he gets you into the room he’s staying in. You don’t waste a moment pulling his shorts down and getting his cock in your mouth. Jaehyun has a handful of your hair. He’s not holding it tight enough to pull it but just enough to let you know he’s in charge here. You look up at him with doe eyes as you place gentle kisses along his length. Once in a while, you lick gently; he shutters slightly when you do so and tightens his grip on your hair momentarily.

“You look like a slut on your knees for me. How about you get to work and suck me off properly.”

You whimper at his degrading words and loll your tongue out of your mouth. He smirks down at you; you take that as permission to begin. When your lips wrap his tip, you tease him still. You circle your tongue around him and hum slightly as you do so. While he is enjoying it, you aren’t listening to what he told you to do.

“Since you can’t seem to listen to simple instructions, I’ll take over. You’re already so cock drunk you can’t even suck my cock properly. So, sit there and be a pretty little whore for me.”

You think you could cum untouched from how he talks to you. Before you can protest, promise that you’ll do it properly, he fucks into your mouth. He sets a brutal, fast pace. Your eyes start tearing up as he continues to use your mouth. Your hands come up to his thighs to brace yourself. His thighs are firm too. Maybe he’ll let you ride them later.

“Are you gonna cry? You already look like a pretty little cockslut with how you’re letting me use your mouth. Crying’s only gonna make you look even more like one.”

You try to shake your head in disagreement, but how he uses you doesn’t allow for many replies. He pauses for a moment and then thrusts again with an even rougher pace. You moan around him and maintain eye contact for a few moments. When you close your eyes, he gives a particularly hard thrust. Making your eye open again, and a mewl escapes your vocal cords.

“If you want me to cum in your mouth like the cumdump you are, you will keep your eyes on me. Understood?”

You attempt to nod and watch how his face contorts in pleasure as he continues to fuck your mouth. You feel so used in the best way possible. You’re sure you’ve soaked through your shorts at this point, but you can’t be bothered to let him know that at this moment. His pace somehow grows rougher, and you can tell he’s getting close. His grip on your hair tightens, and he fully buries himself in your throat. With a loud groan, he cums down your throat. It takes him a few moments to recuperate, but once he does, he gently pulls back and looks at you with dark eyes.

“Should we get you taken care of too? You’ve been rubbing your legs together, trying to get anything you can out of it for the better part of the time. Sluts like you just can’t take care of yourselves, can you?”

“Fuck me?” you ask with pleading eyes.

“Gladly.”

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[psychedelic-ink]

𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐎𝐀𝐃𝐊

Pairing: FEDRA!Javier Peña x firefly!reader

Genre: slice of life, smut, romance, angst, enemies to reluctant friends to lovers, TLOU AU, minors dni

Summary: Javier, a former member of the Federal Disaster Response Agency in Kansas City, is haunted by the guilt and violence he indirectly caused by not taking action when he should have. After fleeing Kansas City in the aftermath of Kathleen's violent overthrow of FEDRA, you and Javier seek refuge in an abandoned train in the middle of a forest.

As you and Javier turn the train into a living space and learn to navigate the dangers of a post-apocalyptic world, you gradually overcome your differences and form an unlikely bond. But when your pasts catch up with you, you must confront the demons that haunt you and make a choice that could mean the difference between life and death. Will you choose to protect each other and find a way to build a new life together, or will the ghosts of your pasts tear you apart?

word count: 4.3k

chapter summary: new dynamics, new outlooks. the story comes to an end.

warnings: cock worship, oral (male receiving), ass play, anal sex, spit as lube, dirty talking

a/n: this is the last chapter of this series but there will be an epilogue coming very very soon. thank you to everyone who joined me on this journey and I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it xx

Railhead - The end of a railroad line where trains can be loaded and unloaded, often in a remote location.

You’re proud, to say the least. Looking back at the train, your chest swells with indescribable emotion. The outside might look rusty and dusty—something Javier was adamant about so no one would want to come take a closer look—but the inside was where your efforts truly shined. Through the windows, you catch a glimpse of the plants you potted in old cans you cut into two and one semi-intact clay pot. A fence surrounds the train, booby-trapped just in case someone lurks nearby.

Javier comes out and stands next to you, he’s chewing on a long-stemmed dandelion. His signature aviators nestled above his head. 

“We fucking did it. An actual living place,” his shoulders raise slightly, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile. “I can’t believe we actually did it without killing each other.” 

You roll your eyes and come to stand in front of him. His eyes drop to your lips, then smoothly travel back up to meet your gaze. You smile playfully as you quickly pluck the dandelion from his lips, closing the distance, you slant your lips together. As always, he’s hungry. He cups your waist and pulls you flush against his body, slipping his tongue between your wanting lips. You groan loudly, your stomach doing somersaults as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss. Every part of you is humming with delight. 

But then Javier suddenly parts, and you’re left aching. 

“Hey—” 

“I got a surprise for you.”  

You blink before answering, “A surprise?” 

“Si,” he chirps quickly, brown eyes shining. He holds your hand and pulls you towards the entrance of the train. “Follow me, querida. I’m sure you’re going to appreciate it.” 

“Hmmm we’ll see.” Javier sits you on the tattered couch and disappears into the makeshift bedroom—your shared bedroom. “How did you even manage to get me something?” you call out. “We literally go everywhere together.” 

“I have my ways.” then he adds. “It’s handmade.” 

Handmade? 

He appears from the narrow threshold, he’s holding a small box, “Here,” he says, placing it on your lap. “Maybe you’ll complain less thanks to this.” 

“Charming as always.” 

You carefully lift the lid, a pair of intricately crafted insoles catches your eye. Javier watches you intently, his full attention making your heart stutter. The insoles, are fashioned from what seems to be a combination of salvaged leather and repurposed fabric.

“I—Insoles?” you gasp, tears prick the corner of your eyes. You lift your gaze and your brows furrow as you meet his. “I don’t remember mentioning I had shitty insoles.” 

“You didn’t have to.” 

The edges are neatly stitched with a weathered thread, showcasing the craftsmanship that went into it. You notice the tiny details, like irregular patterns and faded hues, hint at a past life.  

Javier grins, leaning in as you inspect your gift. "I found an old leather jacket and some sturdy fabric in one of the abandoned buildings. Thought it might make your life a bit comfier. And hopefully—it’ll make my ears hurt less."

“Don’t ruin the moment, Javi.” 

“I don’t want you crying. I can’t handle you crying.” 

“Aw, big scary Fedra soldier afraid of some happy tears?” 

“Didn’t say I was afraid,” his lips touch your forehead, you lean into the heat of them as he takes a seat next to you. “I just don’t enjoy being the person who put them there.” 

“You do know what happy means right?” 

He waves a hand, “Tears are tears, perla. I’d rather see you smile and laugh.” 

Looking back down, you run your fingers over the textured surface. It’s soft, resilient. The insoles seem to mold to the contours of your hands, promising a snug fit when placed inside your old boots. The scent of worn leather and a hint of dust lingers.

"Try them on," Javier urges, his eyes gleaming with eagerness. He nudges you slightly with his shoulder. 

“Alright alright. Just give me a second.” 

You slip the handmade insoles into your shoes, a surprisingly pleasant sensation envelops your feet. You sigh pleasantly and your eyelids flutter. 

“That good, huh?” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

Javier watches your reaction closely, "So, what do you think?"

"Handmade indeed," you muse, a soft smile breaking across your face. "You always find a way to make things special," quickly, you lean in, your kiss taking him by surprise. “Thank you, Javier.” 

He holds you by the hip, hands gradually moving lower to your backside. A shudder runs up your spine, your breathing becoming short-paced. 

“Say my name again.” 

“Javier,” you repeat, a bit more breathily this time. He stands up, the sudden movement making your head spin. He’s not touching you anymore. Instead, he’s just staring at you, his eyes like charcoal. 

“Again.” 

“Javier.” 

His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, he pushes you towards him, close enough that you feel the warmth of his breath on your lips. You inhale sharply. 

“Where do you want me to fuck you?” he asks. “The couch or the bed?” 

“B—Bed,” you stutter. When he clicks his tongue with disapproval, you say, “I want you to fuck me on the bed, Javier.” 

“That’s my good little troublemaker. My sweet thorn.” Before releasing you, he keeps you still, his fingers digging into your neck. “Before I fuck you,” he groans. “I want you to suck my cock, baby. I want you to get it nice and wet, want you to fucking worship it. Understood?” 

You nod in a daze. Javier smiles, a bit of softness showing in his irises. His hand dropping from your neck, he kneads the plump flesh of your ass. “Then I’m going to worship this gorgeous ass. Does that sound fair to you?” 

You swallow thickly, not sure what to say when your head is swimming in deep arousal. 

“Yes,” you whimper. “That sounds fair.” 

The way to the ‘bedroom’ is a blur of quick kisses and rapid stripping; some part of you doesn’t want to remove your boots, you want to continue to appreciate the insoles he made for you, but sadly, you end up kicking them off. 

“Lay down,” you say, taking back some of the control. While Javier pulls down his pants, you suck the skin above his collarbone, tracing the bone underneath with your tongue. A soft whimper reverberates in his throat, dragging your lips up, you kiss his bobbing Adam’s apple. “I haven’t even begun worshipping your cock and you’re already a mess?” You palm his erection, grinning at the way it twitches in your palm. “Are you going to come as soon as I wrap my lips around you, Javier?” 

He grunts and grips your wrist, “Don’t start a war you can’t finish.” 

You know the words are meant to be a lighthearted tease, but they affect you more than you anticipate. You look down at his scar, almost ashamed at the cruel past that ended up binding you two together. 

He must’ve felt it because he lifts your chin, forcing your gaze back to him, “We’re not in a battle anymore,” he reminds you. “There are no wars. And even if there were any, I have no intention of joining when I’m desperately in love with you.” 

Love. 

He’s in love? 

With you? 

“I want to witness the beauty the world still has to offer. . . with you.” 

Your eyes go wide, your pulse skyrocketing in your veins. Your chest heaves. Love. A feeling so foreign that you thought you’d never be on the receiving end. Love. An emotion so complex that sometimes it felt you were the only one capable of it. Love. The emotion Javier feels for you. 

Love. The emotion you feel for Javier. 

You don’t say it—mostly because you’ll get choked up if you do—but you do kiss him with every bit of emotion you feel towards him. You breathe him in. Inhale him. You feel his lashes on your skin as he closes his eyes, feel the thud of his heart against your own chest. 

Love. 

What an amazing thing it was. 

And a cruel thing you were only able to find after the world ended. 

“Get on the bed,” you say, softer this time. Javier complies, the bed creaking in protest at his weight. You strip down completely. Your underwear and bra left on the floor. You want to be bare. You want to be safe. And you are safe, with him you’ll always be. 

“I love this pretty cock,” you mutter, kissing the side. The muscle in Javier’s jaw tenses, his teeth coming together. You lick up to the tip and wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue around the ridge. Before he can get comfortable, you drag your lips back down, following the vein that throbs violently under your soft flesh, you take one of his testicles into your mouth. You suck on it slowly and release it, blowing a bit of air over the spit-slicked skin. 

“Fuck,” he growls, hips jerking. “Fuck fuck fuck—That’s it baby, that’s it. . . Shit—” 

Javier’s head falls back, his dark locks a mess above the white-ish pillowcase. You dip your tongue between the crease of them and flattening your tongue, you lick the underside of his cock. His breath comes in short, fast pants. You take him into your mouth, sucking him halfway until the tip touches the back of your throat. You feel your nipples tightening, your pussy soaked from pleasuring him. Javier cradles the back of your head for dear life, thrusting into your mouth with shallow thrusts. You let him. You’d let him ruin you, you’d let him tear you apart and stick you together again. 

A series of moans and groans drop from his lips. Saliva trickles down his length, going down his thighs. Moaning around him, you grip the meat of his legs and push yourself down. He sinks into your throat desperately, his breath hitching when your throat convulses around him. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, pushing you off his cock. “I don’t want to come yet but your mouth is too damn tempting.” You look up to him with a grin, he reaches towards you, thumb pulling at your bottom lip. “Next time I’ll fuck this pretty mouth so well you won’t be smiling about it.”

“I’ll hold you up to that, you know.” 

“Good.” 

Javier pulls the pillow under you while he guides you to all fours. Suddenly you’re feeling too exposed with your ass in the air. You chew the inside of your cheek and look down at the sheets. He flattens his palm above your spine, his hand moving all the way down, he stands on his knees right behind you, his cock wet and heavy above the swell of your ass. 

“Just say the word and we’ll stop.” 

“No, I. . . I want it, I’m just nervous because I’ve never actually. . .” you trail off, your cheeks flaring at the thought of speaking openly—which is hilarious when you think about it because this man has literally seen the worst of you. “I’ll tell you if I need to stop. Promise.”

Javier seems satisfied by your answer and playfully slaps your ass. You imagine him smiling, stoked to have you in a way that no one else has. He parts your cheeks, you hear the sound of his mouth as a string of saliva drips right onto your hole, Javier hums, and with a thumb, he smears it over. Your breath hitches. He hasn’t even done much, yet you’re already dizzy with the vicious way your heart beats in your chest. 

Javier spits again, a pleasurable shudder crawls up your spine. Your nipples tighten. Goosebumps rising across your skin. He slowly pushes in a finger, he stops shortly after, examining the way your back tenses at the pressure. With his other hand, he caresses your spine. It’s soothing and you relax into his touch. 

“Wish we had lube,” he murmurs. You hear the rustle of sheets as he moves. “But hopefully this’ll be enough to loosen you up, querida.” 

His lips are nothing short of sin. You groan at the touch of his tongue, the velvet muscle swirling around you. He groans at your taste, pulls you closer by gripping your waist. You go willingly. Gathering spit in his mouth, he pushes, your body jolts as he wiggles his tongue inside. 

His hand moves down to your clit, rubbing slow circles over the swollen nub. You feel your arousal growing, your body responding to his touch. You moan and squirm, unable to control yourself. It’s too much but also not enough all at the same time. He kisses where he’s been fucking you with his tongue and presses the same finger inside. This time it slides in with ease but he stops half-knuckle deep. 

Your body tenses when he swipes over your clit again. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks, mouth moving over the plump flesh of your ass. 

"Amazing," you gasp, your body tingling with pleasure. 

He moves his hand away from your clit and you whimper at the loss of his touch. But before you can protest, you feel him pulling out. Slightly turning, you see him licking his fingers, getting them wet. His hair is a mess, his beard thicker now that time has passed. Your heart swells and your lashes flutter. A beat later, your eyes meet. Javier makes a show up sucking his fingers, smiling around them. 

“Are you enjoying the show?” he asks, pressing both fingers against your hole. 

Instead of words, a choked-out sound drops from your lips. Your head falls back, your body arching as he pushes them deep. 

"Relax, mi amor," he says, his voice gentle and reassuring. You wince at the stretch, but his spit makes it easier, and soon his fingers are sliding in and out of you, stretching you open. 

Javier leans over you, his body covering yours. You feel his hard length against your back, and you know that he's just as turned on as you are. His fingers begin to move faster, scissoring and curling inside of you. He moans with you, precome dripping down your back and onto the sheets. Your body begs for more and more and more—

"Please," you gasp, meeting the thrust of his fingers. "I need you inside me, Javier." 

“How can I ever say no when you beg so sweetly,” he rasps, chest heaving. “Mi dulce perla.” 

He pulls his fingers out of you and you feel a sudden emptiness. But it's quickly replaced as he lines himself up with you and slowly begins to push into you. You gasp as he stretches you wide, he stops mid-thrust, waiting for you to adjust. Slack-jawed, you feel sweat beading at your temple. Javier finds your clit again, playing with it until you’re a soaking mess over his fingers, your body squeezing him tight. A loud groan trembles within his chest and he rocks forward, his cock filling you completely.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he says, voice hoarse. “I could go on like this all day long—until the day I die.” 

You want to quip back at him, maybe mention that there’s no way he can go that long, but you lack the ability to form sentences. An elongated groan slips past your lips instead and you swear he smiles, without even looking you can sense the mischievous smile curling at his pretty, plush lips. 

Javier starts thrusting into you, slowly at first and then building up speed. His hands caress your body, over your back, and down your hips. You can hear the sound of his lower abdomen slapping against your ass, along with both your moans filling the air. His cock hits all the right spots inside of you, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You grip the sheets, desperate for something to hold onto as he hammers into you, the wet sounds growing and growing with every move.

You feel a sudden intensity building within you, rising higher and higher with each thrust of Javier’s hips. He lets out a low growl, his grip on your hips tightening as he pounds into you harder. You can’t help but moan loudly You’re feeling overwhelmed but in the best way possible. 

Javier leans down and whispers into your ear, “You look so fucking sexy like this, taking my cock in your ass. You enjoy it don’t you—my sweet filthy girl.”

His words, along with his cock pounding into your tight hole, send you over the edge and you come with a loud cry, your entire body trembling. Your clit throbs as your cunt squeezes around nothing, pulsing viciously as your orgasm is ripped away. You clench around him and Javier’s movements become erratic. Suddenly, he stills, his body tensing as he reaches his peak. You feel him release inside of you, filling you up as he continues to thrust into you, prolonging his orgasm. Your eyes roll and your lids flutter, your own release washing over you as you come undone with him. He stays buried inside, both of you panting and catching your breath, until he finally pulls out. 

Javier collapses onto your back, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. You both lie there for a few moments, basking in the aftermath. He eventually pulls out of you and you move to lay on your side, feeling his spent trickling down the back of your thighs, you face each other.

He strokes your cheek gently, looking into your eyes with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. “You were amazing, mi vida,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. 

You smile back at him, “So were you,” you reply, running your fingers through his hair. “Though sadly, I don’t think we can do that again for a while. I’m going to be feeling it for days.” 

Just as he opens his lips, a sudden chill settles over your sweat-slicked body and his eyes drop down to your naked body with worry. “Are you cold?” 

“A bit,” you admit unwillingly. You slightly stir, attempting to reach for the blanket. “Winter is finally coming, huh?” 

Javier leans in and kisses you softly, his lips moving against yours in a slow, loving dance. You feel a warmth spread through your body, then you feel it on the outside as he reaches down, grabbing the blanket for you.

“It is.” 

“Is there a reason we’re outside in the middle of the night?” you grumble, hugging yourself, you follow Javier’s footsteps. “It’s fucking freezing.” 

The crisp night clings to your skin, freezing everywhere it touches. You miss the heat of your shared bed, the heat of another body against yours. With narrowed eyes, you glare at the man who is not slowing his steps. Javier takes your hand into his own, forcing you to move faster. He’s been secretive ever since he woke you—and it was definitely not pleasurable to be waken up in the middle of the night, especially in this day and age. 

“Javierrrrr,” you whine, throwing your head back. “It’s cold. . .” 

“You’ll thank me, I promise.” 

“Fine. I trust you,” you chew on your bottom lip and smile. “But mainly because you made me new insoles.” 

He turns to you, eyes round and simply adorable, “Are they keeping you warm?” 

“They are.”

The two of you continue your journey through the night, and as you walk, Javier's hand remains firmly clasped around yours. The crunch of leaves beneath your feet echoes in the quiet darkness, a lullaby that once again makes you wish you were in bed instead.

After what feels like an eternity, Javier leads you to a small clearing. Your eyes go wide when you notice the soft silver beams cascading onto the patch of ground underneath The air is still, and the world seems to hold its breath, the only sound being the faint rustle of leaves. 

Your breath catches as you step into the open space, your hand slipping away from Javier’s. A field of flowers had bloomed in various shades, their slender stems standing proud. The delicate petals reflect the silvery light. They remind you of stars, their petals pointed instead of round like you’re accustomed to.

A gasp escapes your lips, and a radiant smile spreads across your face. Your head snaps to Javier, "What are these?" you ask. 

Javier's gaze shifts from the flowers to you, and in that moment, the world fades away. 

“I have no idea what they are,” he answers, finger moving over his bottom lip. “But they only bloom at night.” 

Your heart swells, “They’re beautiful. Thank you” 

He steps closer, his fingers gently tracing the curve of your cheek. "Don’t mention it,” he brushes your lips together, the warmth of his breath making your melt into the earth. “Besides, they’re pale compared to you.” 

“No need to charm me further,” you grin. “You already have me.” 

“Do I now?” 

“You do.” 

As you share a tender kiss, the first snowflake falls. Then another. The world quiets down, and as you pull away, you notice the first snowflakes gently falling around you. Breaking away you both look at each other, then up to the sky. 

It's here – winter has finally arrived.

Surprisingly, despite the cold, you've never felt warmer. In that simple kiss and under the falling snow, there's a magic that makes everything feel just right.

The day was warm, the sun bright. Small petals flew further away from the green grass, colorful flowers moving left and right with the soft caress of the wind. The grass tickled your bare ankles. You felt lucky to have found some regular shoes. If not you would have to wear your boots that made your feet feel like it was in a sauna. The lovely weather felt like a joke. It wasn’t the reality you lived in, just a mirage of the life before—though even then, it wasn’t quite perfect was it? 

Your grip tightened around the straps of your bag. If you listened close enough you could hear the clatter of all the guns you were meant to smuggle in. The FEDRA was cruel in Kansas City. It was like the boogeyman stories but real. 

You took a deep breath, your eyes scanning your surroundings one last time. It was like a spitting image of a Van Gogh painting. The world was still alive. It wasn’t infected, it didn’t know about the monsters that lurked on the surface.  

Turning around, you continued to walk uphill, your chest starting to ache from both the heat and the constant walking. 

Then you saw him. 

A FEDRA soldier. 

Your eyes momentarily went wide. He wasn’t looking at you, He was fidgeting, constantly looking around as if he was waiting for someone. Worry made a home in your gut. You didn’t think you had the strength in you to fight anyone off today. You just wanted to help the people and get rid of the weight of the guns. 

The vest he wore looked like it dug uncomfortably into his chest, his rifle slung over his back, and pistol snug on his hip. You wondered if he would use either one on you—

Your eyes locked on one another. 

Your breath halts in your chest, your heart ramming angrily and fearfully against its boney cage. 

He raised a sole eyebrow, eyes narrowing. He was assessing you, trying to see how much of a threat you were. 

“Who are you?” he asked and pulled out a cigarette pack from his back pocket. “You’ll get hurt if you wander around much, hermosa.” 

You swallowed, “I—I’m just walking by,” you paid careful attention to make your voice sound meek and frightened. You lifted both your hands in surrender. “Please don’t shoot.” 

He lit his cigarette and made no move toward his weapons. You eyed him nervously. FEDRA was not to be trusted. 

“That wasn’t my question.” 

“I just want a place to stay for the night. I was hoping to take refuge here for the night and leave first thing in the morning.” 

The soldier looked through his lashes and he shielded the tiny flame with his hand. When the cigarette finally came to life, he took a deep breath then looked up to the sky. 

“I really want to trust you. You have a kind face,” he said, sounding tired. “But your bag is making me doubt you.” 

You froze, “Please. You can trust me.”  

“And that’s all everyone needs during the end of times isn’t it?” he asked, not really wanting an answer. “Someone they can trust.” 

He lowered his gaze, looking back at you, he sighed. His gaze lingered on you for an uncomfortable long amount. Your feet were glued to the soil, heat blossoming all over your skin. He had a kind face too. In another life, you might’ve even fallen for eyes. 

The soldier suddenly blinked as if hitten by electricity, something he saw bothered him and you worried he saw right through you. Saw that you were a firefly, that you were carrying a shit ton of weapons. But he didn’t say anything. 

“Go.” 

“Go?” 

He looked away, “Go before I change my mind. I have someone I need to meet anyway.” 

So he was waiting for someone. Briefly, you wonder but quickly shrug the thoughts away. You had a mission.

You mumbled a thanks as you walked past him, your arms brushing in the process. As you left, you tried not to think about the electricity that circulated you, about the brown eyes and the tired look in them—

You tried not to fall for the possibility of a happy ending. Tried not to look for him when the chaos ensued, when Kathleen took over. 

You tried. 

And you failed. Miserably. 

[eirenical]

Let No One Be Forgotten (4,951 words) by eirenical for @fixaidea

Summary:

Ten years ago, an accident left Wu Xie in a coma from which he has not yet awoken. With their Triangle too long broken, Pangzi and Xiaoge are willing to do anything, to sacrifice anything, to get him back.

“A picnic. Picture a forest, a country road, a meadow. Cars drive off the country road into the meadow, a group of young people get out carrying bottles, baskets of food, transistor radios, and cameras. They light fires, pitch tents, turn on the music. In the morning they leave. The animals, birds, and insects that watched in horror through the long night creep out from their hiding places. And what do they see? Old spark plugs and old filters strewn around... Rags, burnt-out bulbs, and a monkey wrench left behind... And of course, the usual mess—apple cores, candy wrappers, charred remains of the campfire, cans, bottles, somebody’s handkerchief, somebody’s penknife, torn newspapers, coins, faded flowers picked in another meadow.” ― Arkady Strugatsky, Boris Strugatsky, Roadside Picnic

Today

“Did we forget anything?”

Xiaoge, still stuffing essentials into pockets of his backpack, slowly shook his head.

“Did you get any sleep this afternoon?”

Xiaoge paused, considered the easy lie for a moment, then slowly shook his head once more.

“You went to go say goodbye, didn’t you. Spent the whole damned day at the research institute hospital sitting at his bedside instead of resting.”

Neither of those were questions, but Xiaoge nodded in response, anyway. He would be ready for tonight. Pangzi understood that, even if he scolded. He would be able to protect them in the Zone better with the memory of Wu Xie held clear and tightly in his mind than with any amount of sleep. Pangzi understood that, as well. Xiaoge had seen Pangzi sneaking out as he’d snuck in, having spent the night in the hospital watching over Wu Xie before going home to get some sleep.

It was good.

They would both need all the memories of Wu Xie they could gather, to do what they had to do tomorrow.

The impossible.

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August 24, 2024: This fic was written for @fixaidea for the @pingxie-exchange and is based off a book called Roadside Picnic whose virtues Fixa has been extolling for some time. ;D Anyway, she was right, the book is SO GOOD and I highly recommend it. I've been told you can understand this fic without having read the book, but here's a little help: the basic premise of the book is that aliens have (very briefly) visited Earth and left behind several zones of altered space. Within these altered spaces, the laws of physics do not necessarily always apply and there are also altered objects that humans have since repurposed for their own uses. People periodically visit the zones legally, for research purposes (scientists), and illegally, for profit (stalkers). That should be all you need to know. ^_^

And I'd like to say a GIANT thank you to @bbcphile for an extremely last minute beta and boatloads of encouragement. ^_^

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 盗墓笔记 - 南派三叔 | The Grave Robbers' Chronicles - Xu Lei Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling, Wang Pangzi & Wu Xie & Zhang Qiling, Wang Pangzi & Zhang Qiling Characters: Zhang Qiling, Wu Xie (DMBJ Series), Wang Pangzi Additional Tags: Roadside Picnic AU, The Iron Triangle | Wang Pangzi & Wu Xie & Zhang Qiling, Angst, Coma, Angst with a Happy Ending, Whump, Zhang Qiling Needs a Hug, Zhang Qiling Gets a Hug, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kisses, Caretaking, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Alternate Universe, Wu Xie's Curiosity Gets Him Into Trouble... Again, Established Wu Xie/Zhang Qiling

[chestcongestion]

Way of the Dino: Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Had an idea for a cute snippet so here's a short fic of Va/gg/ie comforting a sick Char/lie at the beginning of their relationship with Char/lie being a bit of a dramatic crybaby <3

Fic is under the cut, hope you enjoy!

Word count: 774

Vaggie had been living with the Princess of Hell- and dating her- for about six or seven months, and things had been going pretty well. The two had spent that time repairing and making plans for the old hotel that Charlie was repurposing for her massive passion project. 

However, one morning after months of sleeping in a drafty building and interacting with Hell’s public to advertise the upcoming hotel opening, Charlie woke up feeling out-of-sorts. 

That out-of-sorts feeling quickly spiraled into a full blown cold, something that the princess seemed wholly unfamiliar with.

 Vaggie being equally as unfamiliar with any illness outside of wound infections wasn’t helpful either, but the two got by with the notes from the Morningstar family’s doctor and some of the information Charlie had gleaned from her collection of anthropology books. 

One afternoon, while making Charlie a mug of tea with honey- honey that was rationed out from fast food restaurant honey packets- Vaggie could hear her girlfriend’s quiet sobs from the other room. 

“Charlie? You okay?” Vaggie asked, setting down the mug of tea on the coffee table and kneeling down next to the sofa where Charlie had been sleeping. 

“E-Eh’kttssHhuhh! Eh’kSshhuh! E-eh’Ktsshhuu!” Charlie sneezed, wiping off her nostrils with a tissue and swiping at her tears with the heel of her palm, “I’m sorry, Vaggie, I was reading and now I’m- Eh’ktsSshhuu!- now I’m scared.” 

“Scared? Of what?” Vaggie asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“I was reading this human world book about colds- E-ehh’kshhew!- and one of the chapters says that a dinosaur on Earth died because her throat was too sore for her to eat anything,” Charlie said, choking back sobs as tears ran down her flushed face, “I wasn’t scared at first but then I swallowed and my throat really hurts and I don’t wanna die!” 

Vaggie blinked, her heart bleeding at Charlie’s precious tears, but her brain struggling to hold it together and keep from laughing. 

“Charlie… you’re not a dinosaur, you don’t have tiny arms and you don’t have to choke down live prey, you can have tea, and soup, and cough drops to keep you nourished until your cold goes away,” Vaggie explained calmly, stroking Charlie’s scalp to get her to relax, “And anyways… even if you did have tiny arms and couldn’t make those yourself, you have me, I’d help you.” 

Charlie sniffled deeply, wiping her tears and leaning against Vaggie’s chest, “You’re so sweet- snff!- thank you for making sure I don’t die. E-eih’Kttsshew! ‘Scuse me,” she said, wiping her runny nose with another tissue. 

“Of course, I like taking care of you, I promise you won’t die, even if I have to fight your cold hand-to-hand myself,” Vaggie whispered, kissing Charlie’s cheek. 

Charlie sniffled, tears streaming down her face once again, “You’re so nice to meee, I dunno what I did to deserve you- snff!” she said, her voice wavering and cracking from both the avalanche of raw emotion and her hoarse throat. 

“You saved me… you’re lovely, being there for you and supporting you when you need me is the least I can do,” Vaggie said, “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Vaggie,” Charlie replied, reaching for her cup of tea and taking a few slow sips, smiling when the hot liquid cascaded down her raw throat, “Mmm, that feels much better. Thanks, Vaggie.” 

“Don’t mention it, gotta keep my promise and save you from ending up like that dinosaur,” Vaggie laughed, rubbing Charlie’s back as she continued to sip on her tea.  

Charlie chuckled, only to pause for a moment, “You know what I just remembered?” 

“What?” 

“I’m immortal- snff! E-ehh’TshshhIEW!” 

“Yeahh… I was going to remind you but I figured it’d kill the mood,” Vaggie said, “Still, I can’t imagine starving because your throat is too sore to swallow would feel very nice, even if it didn’t kill you.”  

“That’s true- Snff! H-hehh…He-EH’TtSshhiew!- thank you for not making fun of me while I was confused about that,” Charlie said sheepishly, finger-combing her hair with her free hand.  

“Of course,” Vaggie replied with a reassuring smile, “I would never make fun of you for that, you’re vulnerable and not feeling well, so you got confused. It’s totally understandable.” 

Charlie snickered, blowing her nose into a handful of tissues before facing Vaggie again, “Well yeah- Snff SnFF!- but it probably still looked really stupid, right?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Vaggie looked away for a moment, before reluctantly replying with a giggling “Yeah…” and kissing Charlie’s cheek again as the two laughed for what felt like forever, their warmth and chemistry serving as a pleasant distraction from Charlie’s misery. 

[thegainingdesk]

Gain for Pay: Chapter 4

Find all of the chapters here.

"265 pounds?" Jamie barked. "That's not good enough, recruit! I need you fighting fit!"

"Sir yes sir!" Kyle tried to stop himself shivering. He looked down at his body, clad only in a jock strap that should have been retired 30 pounds ago, and his socks. All the recent weight had pushed him from "chubby" to "fat" in a way that Kyle didn't know how to feel about. On one hand, he'd lost his beautiful body that so many men had adored, on the other, he couldn't deny how much more attention the channel, and he, was receiving.

His gut had swollen up from a dome shape to a full blown globe of fat where his abs once lay perfectly flat, and recently his pecs had rounded out into pert little packages of fat - Kyle found himself grabbing them idly throughout the day, beginning to understand what straight men's obsession with tits was all about. At Jamie's suggestion, he'd started to let his previously perfectly manicured body hair grow out. The point of all that preening was to show off his toned, glistening muscles, and now they were hidden beneath slabs of chub, it seemed silly. Jamie had suggested he go for more of a bear look, which Kyle had initially balked at, but looking at himself now, he had to admit the label was becoming more fitting by the day.

Kyle was snapped out of his contemplation by Jamie slapping his butt. "Get off those scales you fat slob, and give me twenty sit-ups!"

Kyle stepped back and lie down on the floor, wincing at the feel of the cold floor on his ass. He bent his legs up, tensed his core, and did the first sit-up. Didn't these used to be easy? His old muscles were still there, he told himself, although he'd not been doing much to maintain them of late, and now he had to fight against so much fat and flab, which resisted each motion. Every single sit-up resulted in his gut bunching itself up uncomfortably, causing it to become even more pronounced and stopping Kyle from completing the motion.

"Twelve! Thirteen!" Jamie barked above him. By this point Kyle was shaking, great drops of sweat dripping down his forehead and his chest. "Fourteen! Fifteen!" Kyle collapsed down. They'd planned for him not to complete all twenty sit-ups, but Kyle legitimately wasn't sure how many more he could have done anyway. "I didn't tell you to stop, recruit!"

Kyle swallowed in great gulps of air. "I… I can't sir." He struggled out.

"What was that maggot!"

Kyle took a deep breath. He wondered if Jamie could tell this was real, or if he just thought Kyle's acting ability had improved recently. "Sir! I said I can't do anymore sir!" he said louder.

"And why not recruit!" Jamie barked.

"Sir! Because I'm too fat sir!" Kyle replied. He gathered enough strength to pull himself into a sitting position and began to stand shakily.

"You're pathetic recruit! Get back into your uniform!"

Kyle eyed the halloween soldier uniform weerily. More of a "sexy park ranger" outfit that had been repurposed and dyed a darker green, it would have been skimpy if it had fit, and the "one size fits all" label was certainly not intended to extend to men of Kyle's new stature. It had been a struggle to get it on and buttoned for the start of the scene, and no easier to peel off of his newly thickened thighs and back once they'd gotten going. "I'm not sure I can sir, I'm too fat for it," he told Jamie through gritted teeth, hoping he'd pick up on the hint and move on.

Jamie grinned devilishly, breaking character for a moment. "I told you to put it on, recruit," he purred. "Or am I going to have to write you up for disobeying your superior officer?"

Kyle sighed. "Sir, no sir." He picked up the shirt first, stretching it over his back and squeezing his thick arms through. He was proud of how his arms had expanded recently, but some part of him knew that it was pure fat. He didn't attempt to do the buttons up, and Jamie didn't push it, they both knew it would make the video far too long. The shorts were next. They slid past his calves easily enough, but got stuck around thighs like Thanksgiving turkeys. Slowly, he managed to slide them up, until the top of them hit his watermelon-like ass.

"You'll have to help me sir," Kyle told Jamie, avoiding his eyes, but with his dick hardening all the same. Jamie smirked, and came behind him, looping his fingers through the belt loops and tugging up. Between them, they managed to get the shorts up and over his butt, and Jamie buttoned the top button for Kyle as he sucked his gut in.

Kyle felt humiliated, fat, in pain, and horny. He caught a sight of himself on the monitor, squeezed into an outfit several sizes too small, fat pouring out everywhere, a round, hairy gut hanging out the front.

"Now recruit, to ensure you're fighting fit, I'm going to give you your nightly rations of this specially formulated super-soldier formula," Jamie said, pulling out a funnel and a jug of thick weight gain shake. "It's designed to turn even the laziest slob into the perfect soldier."

"I don't think it's working sir," Kyle said, rubbing his gut. "I've just been getting fatter and fatter ever since you started feeding me it." He sat down in the armchair angled towards the camera.

"It is not your job to think, maggot!" Jamie snapped. "It is your job to do what I tell you to, and I am telling you to chug this formula!"

"Sir, yes-" Kyle was cut off by Jamie placing the tube of the funnel deep into his mouth, making his eyes water. Jamie started pouring the mix straight away, and Kyle focussed on building up a rhythm. Breathe, swallow, breathe, swallow, breath, swallow. He'd become a seasoned pro at this, even coming to enjoy the feeling of an overly tight gut at the end of it all. He felt his cock growing - it had come to learn that food meant sex.

"What a good recruit," Jamie said once he'd poured the entire jug into the funnel. He let go, allowing Kyle to support it as he drained it. "Why don't you let sarge help you out there?"

Jamie sank to his knees, unbuttoning Kyle's shorts. Kyle's gut surged forward and he moaned in relief. The moan only increased in volume as Jamie took his entire dick into his mouth, sliding the full length in expertly. Kyle had to remind himself to keep up his rhythm of breathing and swallowing, chugging in time with the bobbing of Jamie's head, as his hands explored Kyle's belly.

Kyle hefted the funnel a couple of times, trying to judge how much shake was left, and how much longer he needed to hold out for. It was difficult - Jamie was skilled and eager to please, and Kyle had to distract himself to keep from climaxing.

Finally, Kyle sucked the last of the weight gain shake from the tube, and discarded it to one side. He tilted his head back and placed his hands on top of Jamie's on top of his gut, and joined in with his kneading. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna-"

He began to cum into Jamie's mouth, and felt the smaller man come away from his dick. Kyle came long and hard, and he could tell he was putting on quite the show.

Eventually, Jamie stood up, thick ropes of cum covering his face. "Right, umm, recruit, that was, uhh, well, that was very good. Thank you very, I mean, yes, that was as, as expected from the uhh, soldier serum, and you can, uhh, go, go back to your bunk now."

In response, Kyle let out a deep, slow burp. He smirked at the erection he could see trapped in Jamie's much more flattering soldier's outfit.

"Right," Jamie said, composing himself a little and stopping the recording. "I'm going to go and," he gestured at his face, dripping with Kyle's seed. "You know." He stood awkwardly for a moment. "That was really fucking hot by the way, you're getting great at waiting until you're full to cum, it'll be so good for the video."

Kyle shrugged. "Starting to come naturally I guess."

Jamie gave a short laugh. "I guess. Anyway." He moved to the bathroom, where Kyle could hear him turn the shower on.

While Jamie showered, Kyle tried to tug the uniform off. Without Jamie's help, and now full of gainer shake, he quickly gave up, and just tore through the flimsy fabric instead, collapsing down on the armchair once again in just his jock strap.

"You know," Jamie said once he was done with his shower. "I still don't really think the sergeant would have sucked off the recruit, it's not the right character dynamic."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Look, it's not fucking HBO, we're making porn for guys who love fatties, okay? They don't care about the characters, they want to see me eating and chugging and getting sucked off."

"Yeah, yeah, I know big guy," Jamie tried to soothe him. "You're the star, I know that, I was just saying-"

"And why do I keep on sucking you off, you know?" Kyle continued, clearly not listening. "This is supposed to be all about me getting worshiped, and I'm the one giving blowjobs? What's that about?"

Jamie came over and starting rubbing Kyle's gut. "You are getting worshiped, buddy okay? All these subscribers all the fans, all of them are here to come and worship this big, fat gut, yeah?"

Kyle started to smile a little. "Yeah, yeah, I guess. They're really starting to get into it, aren't they?" Jamie nodded. "I just, you know, I'm thinking about the fans, you know, they'll want to see me getting serviced and shit. Since I'm the fat guy."

Jamie nodded, rubbing Kyle's gut in large, slow circles. "Exactly! You're the big guy! The star!" he said. "This is on me, I'm sorry, I should have thought about the fans and the best way to present you to them in all your glory." He put the emphasis on the last word.

Kyle nodded, feeling his cock growing hard, despite only cumming quarter of an hour before. Jamie clearly noticed because he looked over at the camera. "There's a pizza in the fridge," Jamie said. "If you wanted to go again?"

Kyle smiled. "I think I've got room, yeah."

-

Kyle finished his fries, throwing the carton alongside the three burger wrappers. He wiped his greasy fingers on his sweatpants absentmindedly while he sucked on his milkshake, and opened up Grindr. He'd grown used to sex after stuffing himself, and was starting to find himself restless on the days when he and Jamie weren't filming.

He flicked through the usual slew of blank profiles and faceless torsos, ignoring the messages from men who were so beneath his league it was laughable - too old, too hairy, too fat. Didn't they know he was a sex god? That men paid a premium just to look at his body?

Finally, he found someone who took his fancy, and sent a few short messages, blunt, to the point and effective. I can be round in half an hour sexy. the reply came.

Kyle looked round his small apartment. Generally, filming with Jamie forced him to keep the space clean, but he'd gone on a binge these past couple of days, and now fast food wrappers littered the floor. He stood, straining a little, small burps escaping every so often, and picked up the various boxes, wrappers and styrofoam cups. The smell of grease and salt made him crave more, even as his stomach ached from all he'd already eaten. He opened some windows in an attempt to disperse some of the smell.

Apartment made somewhat more presentable, he looked down at himself. The sweatpants would have to do, as stained as they were, since they were all that fit anymore. He looked down at his bloated hairy gut. He probably needed to cover that at least. Once upon a time, he'd have answered the door to a hook-up practically naked, but now he wasn't so sure. He found a clean t-shirt that he'd bought just last month and pulled it on. It covered his gut, but barely, clinging to his pecs and gut, and riding up at the slightest movement to reveal a sliver of skin. He flexed his arms, pleased with how the sleeves hugged his biceps.

His intercom buzzed. "Hey, it's Matt."

"Hey Matt, come up, the doors open, it's number 8," Kyle replied, buzzing him in.

Kyle sat down and turned on his TV, keen to seem nonchalant. A minute later, he heard the door open and turned to see Matt stand with his mouth open. "What the fuck?"

"Hey," Kyle said, standing up. "Looking good man."

"I'm looking for Kyle?" Matt said, disbelief in his eyes. He was younger than Kyle, 21 or so, with thin, toned limbs and a non-existent waist.

"Yeah, that's me," Kyle said slowly.

Matt came closer, examining him. "Christ dude, how long ago did you take those pictures?"

Kyle picked up his phone, confused, and opened his profile to look. "Like six months ago," he replied.

"What happened to you?" Matt asked, taking a step back, as if it might be contagious.

Kyle felt his chest tighten and tried to pull down his t-shirt self-consciously. "Well I've got this OnlyFans, and people like to see me-"

"You've got an OnlyFans?" Matt interrupted. "As in, one that people pay for?" he looked Kyle up and down, disgusted.

"Hey, fuck you!" Kyle said, his voice rising along with his cock. "Lots of people fucking pay to see me actually. I get fucking worshipped okay? Fucking worshipped!" He didn't know why getting humiliated like this was such a turn on for him, or why he was getting so angry. If it had been the other way around, he knew he would have done exactly the same thing. "People love to see me stuff this tum- this gut, okay? Yeah, I don't look like every other twink in this city, but there's plenty of people who are fucking obsessed with me."

"God, okay, sure, your a sex machine, whatever," Matt said, failing to hide a mocking smile from his face. "But maybe you want to update your profile pictures? Or find another app? There must be one for fatties - Blubbr or something?" He slapped Kyle's gut.

"Fuck you," Kyle said, although he had to admit Matt had a point - he really didn't look like his photos anymore.

Matt made his way out. "Look, no hard feelings or whatever, but if you've got this humiliation kink thing going on, maybe figure out some way to get people's consent first?" he said at the door.

"I don't have a humiliation kink," Kyle said.

"Dude, your cock is rock hard. You're getting off on this." He eyed Kyle's dick appraisingly. "At least your photos weren't wrong about that at least." He pulled out his phone. "Whatever, I need to go find someone to rim me." And with that he was gone.

Kyle moved to the fridge, rubbing his gut and sliding a hand into his sweat pants. He began to pull out snacks that Jamie had filled his fridge with a couple of days before.

-

Kyle sat at the table in a white vest that was far too small for his expanding gut, tomato sauce smeared around his face, which was fixed in a pained expression. He belched, and grimaced at the greasy smell. The scene they were filming was more extreme in both believability and the quantity Jamie was making Kyle eat than they'd ever done before.

Jamie walked into shot, wearing only a short apron. His pert bubble butt stuck out the back, and his erection tented the front, removing what little modesty the dainty bit of fabric afforded him. A fake mustache was pinned under his nose. "Oh mama mia!" he cried. "My growing bambino! You've already eaten all your food, I'm such a terrible host! I should have known to make more meatballs!"

"I'm sorry," Kyle replied flatly, hands cradling the furthest extent of his gut. "It just all tasted so good, and I'm a growing Italian boy with a big appetite."

"Oh, dio santo!" Jamie's hands whirled around in a wild dance of expressions with each word. "I will make you my famous carbonara - no one ever leaves my ristorante hungry!"

Kyle sighed as Jamie brought out a heavy pan full of spaghetti in a rich, creamy sauce. "This isn't working," he told Jamie, breaking character.

Jamie stopped putting on the thick accent. "It's offensive, isn't it? I knew this was a bad idea."

"No, I mean- well, I mean, yeah, this is terrible, but no, I mean this," Kyle said, gesturing down at his new fleshy body. "The gaining thing. I'm huge, I'm gross, I'm…" He sighed. "I just think I need to lose it all and get hot again."

Jamie hurriedly put down the large pot of carbonara. "But you are hot," he insisted. "This" he reached out and squeezed the soft flab of Kyle's lovehandle, "is what all those people are paying the big bucks for! You don't want to be some generic twink like me, they barely even notice-"

"Some of them notice you," Kyle interrupted. "Some of them subscribe for you," he spat. He could feel the resentment bubbling up inside him. "Loads of the comments are about you. Your abs. Your tiny fucking ass." He squeezed his tits and let go, watching as they jiggled. "This was supposed to be about me, and I've given up looking like a Greek fucking god, all because you were jealous of how hot they all thought I was."

"What? Kyle, you know that's not true," Jamie pleaded. "All our followers, all of them, are from since you've started gaining. No one cared about us when we looked like everyone else, what we- what you've done has completely changed the channel- our lives!" He gestured around Kyle's apartment, with its assortment of recently bought furniture. "Okay, some of them comment about me, but if they want some skinny white guy, there's a thousand other channels. They only care about me because they want desperately to be the one feeding you."

Kyle huffed. He could understand the logic. Wanted to understand. And the way Jamie described how important Kyle was made his dick chub up in his skimpy shorts.

"Why did you suggest getting fat?" Kyle asked after some time.

"What? Kyle, we've talked about this, we needed to stand out, we nee-" Jamie began.

"No, we've talked about how we needed to find a niche," Kyle said bluntly. "We could have shown our feet off, or our armpits, or we could have wrestled, or tickled each other, or whatever."

"Do you know how many channels there are for foot fetishes? All of that stuff?" Jamie tried to plead.

"But you jumped straight to fat. Straight away. No umm-ing or ahh-ing or what-ifs. You decided immediately that I needed to chug weight gain shakes and eat pizzas and," he shook his gut, "do this to myself."

"I just did my research Kyle. I wanted to follow the best possible-"

"You get off on this, don't you?" Kyle asked. "It's not just the freaks that subscribe, is it? You're one of them. You love how big I've gotten. How skinny it makes you look. That's why you knew so much. You've been planning this for years."

"It's not like that!" Jamie pleaded. "Yes, I think you're hotter now, but I didn't plan it! And you've been enjoying it just as much, I know it. I've seen how you react everytime."

"Can you fuck off please?" Kyle said.

"Kyle, please, come on. Don't you love it? Think of the money. Think of the fans!"

"Just get your clothes and go, alright? I need to think."

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Jamie said. "But seriously, think about it, okay? We're onto a good thing. The money if nothing else. If we need to maybe pivot to something else, maybe more of a muscle bear-"

"I asked you to leave," Kyle said simply.

Jamie nodded, quickly put on his clothes and left. Kyle sighed, rubbed his gut, and pulled the pot of carbonara towards him, picking up the fork.

[tiddygame]

A deleted chapter from the Ghoap god type AU!

[Ao3 link]

This is why Ch 4 took so long to come out, I got stuck on this for weeks trying to make it work. I wish I could have kept it as a smoother transition from Ghost's drastic leap in emotions from Ch 3, 4, and 5 but it never felt right :( Hopefully that leap still feels like the natural illogical turmoil of an idiot realizing he's lovable but who knows! As you'll notice, a lot of this (especially the intro) was repurposed for the actual chapter 4 and even some of chapter 5

This is unedited from how I found it in my docs, good luck o7 [and copied and pasted straight from ao3 drafts]

Ghost wasn’t fully asleep, but he wasn’t fully awake either.

The battles always had a special way of draining him unlike any other fight. While he wasn’t physically tired, he was emotionally exhausted. Stuck in a state of misery, he was too jittery to sleep but did not have the mental fortitude to make himself stand up.

He’d shucked his helmet but the rest of his armor stayed, too drained and paranoid about getting caught off guard to remove it. His hood was pulled low, his head ducked in an attempt to both block out the light and conserve warmth.

They were on the cusp of winter and continuing their march north; Given the way the clouds looked, it wouldn’t be long before their first snowfall. Ghost was ashamed to admit it, but he never did well with the cold. 

It was warm where he grew up so he never became accustomed to the frosty chill of a true winter. The closest he’d ever been to seeing snow was when the pond near his childhood home froze over with a thin layer of ice.

He huddled closer to himself, staying out in the lie that he could buff his cold tolerance if he sat in the freezing wind for long enough. He was meant to be the perfect soldier with no weakness, and yet a slight breeze had him shaking like a leaf. 

“You look cold,” Soap noted. 

Ghost jumped, “Shit! Stop doing that!”

“Sorry,” the god said, with a smug tone and smile that said he wasn’t very sorry. Ghost just closed his eyes once more as if he could fall asleep. Soap sat against the tree as well, mimicking his position to his left all the way down to how his legs were extended and crossed at the ankle. 

Ghost glanced over, trying to keep the sun out of his eyes even as he turned. The god looked different than the past two times he’d seen him, still not emulating his original paintings and sculptures but thankfully not the headache inducing half tangible/half mist thing that he had been the first time they met.

His skin was still pale, but his hair was even lighter this time, now closer to blond. Soap stared at him right back, also still significantly shorter. Although, his eyes were blue this time, just like his portraits. The longer he stared, the more curious he became over the rather sudden switch in appearance. 

His curiosity got the best of him as he asked, “Why doesn’t your form affect me in the same way it did when you first appeared in the temple?” He regretted asking it immediately; It felt almost like a taboo for Ghost to be the one to so openly acknowledge the more inhuman parts of the god.

Soap was caught off guard, asking, “What?” But he processed the question before Ghost repeated it, looking away and staring straight ahead. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

Ghost didn’t know what he was apologizing for.

“I didn’t have a good grasp on all of,” Soap gestured with his hands, Trying to find the right word. ”Well, this,” he finished lamely, gesturing between them.

“You seemed to grasp my arm well enough.” Ghost was the one who said it and even he wasn’t sure what the hell he meant by that.

“Yeah. Sorry,” Soap apologized.

“What for?” 

Soap just looked up at him, confused so Ghost clarified, “You keep apologizing. What for?”

Ghost watched in confusion as the god shifted uncomfortably, staring down at his lap. “It’s been a while since I’ve interacted with mortals… or anyone really. I’ve kind of forgotten basic conversational skills. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

Now it was Ghost’s turn to stare in confusion. This god certainly was an odd one, that was for damn sure. 

“Uhh… Thanks?” Two socially inept people trying to converse, how wonderful.

When Soap chuckled at his response, he surprised himself by almost chuckling along, for once feeling like he was being laughed with and not at. And what a novel feeling it was, to enjoy talking with someone. Even if the person was an immortal deity.

The conversation drifted as the silence stretched; It was probably the longest the god had gone without speaking since he began coming down to play mortal.

Ghost closed his eyes like he would be able to fall asleep but the longer he spent trying to sleep the more he realized that he still had at least one more question about the god’s appearance.

Soap not being used to the limitations of the mortal realm made sense, but it didn’t answer why he looked nothing like his original depictions. While the depiction of a god could change slightly between artists, there were a few staple features that were left unchanged. 

From his research, most seemed to agree that the god of death was tall with tan skin, dark hair, a (rather stupid, in Ghost's opinion) mohawk, blue eyes, and the build of a fighter. The man next to him had blue eyes, and that was about it; He looked like he’d never seen a day of hard labor once in his entire immortal life.

[]

He wound up doing a double take when he spotted something… peculiar and… specific about his appearance. Ghost looked down at his lap and then back to Soap’s a few times, confused. For once, it was Ghost who broke the silence as he questioned aloud, “Did… Did you steal my hand?”

“Hmm?” Soap looked up from where he too had been feigning a nap.

“You— My hand. You have 3 ½ fingers on your left hand. Same as me.”

Soap took a deep breath and looked askance as if he were embarrassed, “Oh, right. That .” 

Ghost waited for Soap to speak, but he remained silent. Realizing he wasn’t going to say anything else, Ghost repeated, “Yeah. That . Did you steal my hand?”

There was another extended silence before he finally answered, “I mean, you still have your hand so I didn’t steal it technically—”

The god was squirming and Ghost’s interest was now fully piqued, “Soap. You know what I mean.”

Soap let out a huff like he was hoping he could stall long enough that Ghost would forget about the question, “Well, I mean— Okay, yes but also no.” He was gesturing with his right hand, trying to distract from the way he’d hidden his left under his leg. 

“Soap!”

“Yes, alright! I did!” He huffed again, “It’s easier to simulate what you see around you than it is to make something new.” He sank against the tree trunk with his arms crossed, managing to pout while still looking embarrassed. 

“But your physical form already existed?”

“It’s been a while. I’m still trying to remember how to look human, much less recreate how I used to look.”

Ghost could already feel a headache pulling at the base of his skull. “I don’t follow.”

Soap opened his mouth like he was about to speak, but then changed his mind and let out a sigh of air. He squinted off into the distance, thinking, before he finally landed on a simple explanation. “Which one is easier if you don’t have a mirror: to draw yourself or to draw someone else?”

Ghost just hummed in response. It made sense, he supposed, in the same way everything else does when it comes to godliness. Meaning it didn’t make sense and mortals had to scramble for a logical reasoning behind the illogical. 

“But why my hands? Wouldn’t it be easier to copy a hand with five fingers?”

Soap got all fidgety again and began messing with his fingers, “Um, well, like I said, it’s trickier to try to create something. Just to mimic it is easier, even if it’s… less normal?” He stumbled over the last two words, unsure of how to phrase what he meant. 

Had it been anyone else, Ghost might have taken offense to that but considering the god was struggling to exist in the mortal plane, he’d let it slide just this once. He knew what the god meant, or at least thinks he does. All of it made sense so long as he didn’t think about it. 

[Why would he be upset at Soap saying his hand isn't normal? He already implied that with his question??]

Soap sighed again, likely frustrated with his inability to explain what was a simple concept to him and apologized, “I’m sorry. I should have asked before,” Soap vaguely waved his left hand in the air. “I didn’t even think about it.”

Ghost surprised himself with the speed of his response, “No, it’s okay, I—“ he paused. Soap was staring at his left hand (more so his version of Ghost’s left hand) and he noticed something. “Wait. Give me your hand.”

Despite the demanding request, Ghost didn’t wait for an answer to reach across Soap and pull his hand closer. [<-Nonsense ass sentence.] The angle was awkward and by the time his hand was close enough for Ghost’s inspection, the god had been yanked over onto his side, his right forearm propping himself up and his head bumping into Ghost’s upper arm. 

He barely even noticed the contact, too intrigued by the god’s imperfect copy of his hand. 

“Interesting…” He muttered to himself. 

Every time they had met, Ghost had been wearing gloves. It’s likely the only thing that made the god’s odd touchiness bearable, but it also meant that the god had never seen what lies below the fabric. 

Ghost had lost his pinky and part of his ring finger to third and second degree burns. It was beyond a miracle he had been able to keep his hand, to only have one and a half fingers amputated was proof that not every god was out to get him. However, the amputation was not the only evidence of the incident. 

The scarring was prevalent on his entire hand and extended far up his arm. While not amputated, his left middle finger had been damaged enough that the nail never grew back properly. It was still there, but was slightly off center and shaped awkwardly.

The medics did an incredible job with everything, but they could only do so much about the skin contractures. He maintained almost full functionality, but it still ended in him being unable to fully open his hand.

[STOP THE FUCKING MEDICAL DRAMA YOU FREAK] {Better now, but still needs shortening}

All of the deformities and irregularities were missing from Soap’s version. 

The nail on his middle finger looked normal, his ring and pinky finger just so happened to stop short of where they would normally be, there was no scar tissue connecting his fingers and palm, and the skin was completely smooth. It was eerie to look at. 

The more he stared, the more he found that was slightly off. 

Most of it was small and simple. Soap’s skin was still very pale yet he had no visible veins, there was hair on the back of his hand but none on his fingers, all of his nails were the exact same length with not even a hint of dirt under them, and the lines on his palm didn’t line up with where his palm creased when relaxing his hand. They were so subtle, it wasn’t something you couldn’t unsee, but something you noticed and then struggled to find again.

“Interesting,” Ghost repeated. It seemed Soap remembered the hallmarks of what makes a human look human but stumbled on the  finer details. He was able to skate past uncanny valley but still had much to improve on. With his inspection complete, Ghost looked down to where the god was half lying on the ground, watching him. 

The god.

It was so easy, too easy to forget that Soap was something he should be begging for mercy, not yanking around to appease his own curiosity. They’ve met all of three times and he’s already let his guard down this much? [!] Gods above, he needs to get himself together.

He dropped Soap’s hand like it burned him, “S— Sorry.” He needed to say more, more than a stuttered, one word apology, but it was all he could manage. He balled his hands into fists like it was the only way to stop him from repeating the same mistake again. 

The god looked upset, whether it was angry or annoyed, Ghost didn’t know. He stared for a moment longer, a moment too long, before slowly sitting back up, “It’s… It’s fine.”

Fuck. 

Ghost hadn’t the slightest clue what to make of that but he knew it couldn’t be good. The tone was lost to him, the pause spoke of misfortune, and the word choice spelled disaster. 

The fact that he hadn’t already been killed scared him. He should have been. He should have been a long time ago. Ghost didn’t get it. 

Maybe it was all a ploy. Maybe the god was biding his time, keeping a mental tally of all the disrespectful shit he does. That way, when he’s back at full power, he can torture Ghost as much as he wants, however he wants. Now that he saw it, it was so obvious he wanted to slap himself for his stupidity. There was something about the god that made him act like a complete idiot and he hated it.

And like a child, Ghost decided that what he couldn’t see couldn’t hurt him. He turned back, facing the field once more and shook his head to make his hood fall low enough to obscure his peripheral vision.

He hadn’t noticed, having been so wrapped up in his own little world, but near the god, the chill had faded. Now that he pulled away, it was back in full force. Being the coward he was, it almost made him huddle back to Soap just for the warmth. 

Ghost had already sealed his fate when he almost died with an arrow in his chest. The god might have said he didn’t owe him, but it was a load of shit. He still hoped that he could save himself, despite knowing it to be a fruitless venture.

A smart man knows that a familiar devil is better than one unknown. He didn’t like the general, but at least he was familiar with his limits and the punishments that came when those limits were surpassed. And yet Ghost sat poking and annoying an ancient god despite all logic screaming at him to run. 

Perhaps it was his twisted way of taking control over his life. Sitting under that tree, he was doomed to spend the rest of his life as an attack dog with his leash in the hands of a man he hated. But Soap offered another way out.

If he annoyed Soap past the point of no return, his leash would be severed. He’d spend the rest of his life and more as an Old God’s little human doll until his mind broke, but it would be a fate that he, Ghost, set in motion.

Ghost was horrified at the fact that he was comforted by the idea. The deafening white noise he hadn’t been aware of immediately dissipated. His ears were ringing. He was manually breathing, counting every breath in and out. sdhfksjdfhkjalsdhfjklsdah

Then they kiss or fuck or sumn i dunno

Notes: I wanted to keep this so bad but I was nervous about committing to like... a set of rules for gods in this world? Esp so early on in the drafting/writing process. It felt a bit too on the nose and, well, depressing with that last inner monologue too. Not to mention that it felt mismatched; I think that by the time Ghost would have been comfortable enough to fuckin gawk at Soap, Soap would have had a much better grasp on his appearance.

Also I felt bad for stealing the generally accepted hc for Roach's scars and slapping them on Ghost lmao

Also also, if you read something in this and though "oh, wait, that clarified something from the main story that went unexplained. why wasn't it included?" the answer is that I probably forgot that I cut it

[tiniedemon]

GLORY & GORE . . . chapter five

in which y/n and kyle finally acknowledge their desires

you remembered watching kyle’s games, watching his ferocity. kyle was a bloodthirsty animal, hiding in the treetops, descending on his prey come nightfall. his mind was his greatest asset. he’d taken the trophy for the most kills in the games, his kill count surpassing even the most formidable of your successors. he’d done it all with a simple dagger, the hilt repurposed into a stunning taser.

you’d taken a lot from his strategies, choosing instead to form alliances and betray them in the dark of the night. your only weapon had been a machete, the metal hilt carved to resemble a saw.

you had every confidence in the two of you in a typical game, but for this one, veterans would be your greatest enemies. they’d all won before, developed their strategies, honed their skills in a life threatening situation. they were familiar with your strategy, with kyle’s, and with each other’s.

“i need to watch the tapes,” you mumbled to kyle. the two of you were gathered in the common area of your district’s floor, liane seated just across the sectional sofa. kelly was perched in the dining room, enjoying a sweet snack as though your entire world wasn’t scheduled to implode within a few short weeks.

“what tapes?” he responded, face scrunched in confusion. you huffed a sigh, rolled your eyes, and looked to liane.

“how can i analyze previous games? i need to know what i’m up against,” you called to her. she chortled, tilted her head back, her glass of liquor spotting on her beige top.

“i can get you the tapes, but you’re gonna need to pick some allies. those are my conditions,” she drawled, her words slurring together. you huffed again, rolled your eyes again, nestled into kyle’s side. his hand fell to your knee, as though it belonged there.

he was oddly comfortable showing such vulnerability in front of someone who could very well use it against you, and you did not quite understand that. was he not suspicious of liane in the slightest?

“fine,” you grumbled. “but i’m only doing it for those tapes. get me the footage and i’ll pick some allies.”

by the afternoon of the second day, liane had come to you with the footage. it was all held within a small hard drive, able to be easily connected to a capitol projector.

“remember our deal. find an alliance.”

the first night was spent fast forwarding through district one’s games, analyzing every strategy you could scour. you were stationed in the floor at the foot of your bed, hunched over a half empty cup of coffee. it was stretching further into the night, growing closer to dawn than to dusk.

kyle padded into the room, rubbing his eye, his face scrunched. the door slid shut behind him, his body collapsing on the carpet beside you. he leaned into you, placing his head on your shoulder. his hair tickled your chin and his lips warmed your exposed shoulder blade.

“why are you still up?” he asked in a gruff voice. you sighed, paused the footage, rubbed the sleepiness from your eyes. you were exhausted. you’d been watching these tapes for at least twelve hours with no breaks. there were weeks worth of footage per tribute, and it was a miracle you’d gotten through even one.

“i’ve been sifting through footage, analyzing. why are you awake?”

kyle puffed a sigh, his cheeks inflating and his eyes squeezing shut. you couldn’t help the soft smile that creeped onto your face, or the hand you ran through his knotted curls. his hair was just as dry as you were used to. you made a mental note to remind him to condition every day. he’d need that piece of advice after he survived the games.

“i was worried about you.” he spoke so softly you almost didn’t hear him. you hummed, your heart speeding in your chest, and leaned your head against his. he picked up the remote and fiddled with the buttons until he found the right one. the footage resumed where you’d left off, zoomed in on district one’s female tribute.

you’d noticed that she and stephen, the male tribute, were similar in style, as were all district ones. they’d team up with district two, take out all the other tributes, and fight the other careers to the death. they tended to lean heavy into mass slaughter rather than mind games, the way you and kyle tended to lean. perhaps their similar fighting style was the first stepping stone towards their capitol marriage.

it didn’t take much for you to call quits on the second district one tribute. there wasn’t much to her besides bloodshed and brutality. district two’s male tribute, craig, was more of a sadistic killer. he preferred torture, slow death, dragging along the inevitable. it was almost painful for you to watch. almost. kyle flinched with every heartless murder craig committed.

“how are we supposed to stand a chance against them?” kyle whispered. you hummed, wrapped an arm around him, pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“you don’t worry about a single thing, ky. i can take them.” you knew it was an empty promise. there was no telling what would transpire in these games, what route the careers chose to take. the only thing you could promise was your best, and your best was a force to be reckoned with.

“i’ve got your back, too. you know that right?” your heart warmed with the words, a smile forming on your lips despite the gruesome loss playing on screen. kyle was sweet at heart, despite his younger days in the arena. he was a ball of anger, a bomb ready to detonate, but he never did so without a reason. you admired that about him — his willingness to explode for causes he believed in.

he had a heart of gold, though. he was consistently looking out for you, even before your family had been taken from you. once he’d won the games and gained his monthly fortune, he’d spent a good portion on your family. you’d spent your entire life until your games, nearly three years, attempting to repay him. you didn’t think you ever could, in all honesty. kyle had his entire family to support without throwing yours on his roster, but he did so in a heartbeat, and for that you were grateful.

“we’re in this together,” you mumbled, your fingers lacing with his over his shoulder. “you and i against the world.” he was quiet for a moment, breathing so evenly you were sure he was asleep. it wasn’t until he cringed, a splash of blood hitting one of the cameras displayed brightly on the hologram, that you knew he was awake. he’d never been so calm, so still around you. you’d never known him to be so relaxed. he was always so high strung, fidgeting, consistently moving his legs. he was completely relaxed now, limp against your body, face pressed to your chest.

“don’t think i’ve ever been so relaxed in my life.” his words were whispered, shy, lost in the dips of your clavicle. you chuckled and ran your hand through his unkempt curls, adjusting into a more comfortable position on the hardwood floor. kyle leaned further into you, his lips gently brushing the space between your collarbone and your neck. the touch was featherlight, sending a shiver down your spine.

“you should rest. we’ve got the parade tomorrow,” you breathed. kyle sighed, breath fanning over your prickling skin. his hair tickled your chin as he shook his head.

“i don’t think i could if i wanted to,” he muttered. you frowned, turned off the projection, focused your attention on the ginger practically in your lap. his eyes glittered in the low light of your lamp in the corner, shadows caressing the dips of his cheekbones and eye sockets. even in the poor, shadowed lighting, you could see the freckles spotting his upper lip.

“why’s that?” you could barely speak around the lump in your throat, swallowing it thickly. being so close to him, closer than you’d ever been, was nerve wracking. everything about him was nerve wracking. knowing the depths of his character, the darkest parts of him, the lightest parts of him, was nerve wracking. it was an addiction in and of itself. you didn’t think you could tear your eyes away from his tongue wetting his chapped lips if you wanted to.

“i’d be too busy thinking about you. thinking about what i should’ve said, what i should’ve done.” there was a pause, in which you caught his eyes, the heat reflecting in their molten depths. “thinking about how i should’ve kissed you.”

your heart jumped to your throat, your breath catching. kyle straightened himself out, his head leaning down to gaze into your eyes. you couldn’t tear yourself away, caught in the trap of his allurement. you shivered under the gentle touch of his fingertips to your cheekbone, the caress of his palm to your jawbone.

you didn’t want to love him. you didn’t want to need him. but, to your dismay, you were starting to realize how little your wants mattered. there was something about kyle that drew you in, that forced you to desire him, that suffocated you with its incessant whispering of his name. he was forcing you to love him, to care for him, to need him on such a base level that you couldn’t exist if not for him.

“why don't you?” your breaths came in shallow, discreet gasps, your fingertips shaking and heart beating in your throat. something about kyle was addicting, entrapping, influential, dangerous. you were crossing a threshold you knew you’d never be able to cross back through.

“that’s a good question,” he hummed. his fingertips traced the edge of your jawline, eyes dropped to follow them. “why don’t i?”

“you’re scared,” you breathed. every movement of his body, every beat of your heart, instilled a new wave of nervous fear in your bones. if anyone was scared, it was you.

“i’m not.” it was a lie. you could feel his pulse running against the hand you’d placed on his chest. “but i think you are.” that was true. everything in you was screaming ‘run. run as far as you can, and don’t come back.’ there was a part of you that whispered ‘stay with him. you need him.’

“i’m not.” kyle scoffed, flattened his palm against the side of your neck, tilted his head to the side. his eyes glimmered when you looked into them, the brightest expression of love you’d ever seen held deep within them. you knew he could see the fright on your face, the way your lips trembled, the bead of sweat rolling down your temple. “okay, maybe i am.”

“i knew you were. you don’t have to be scared of me.” his voice was shaky, his whispers airy and depraved. you knew what he wanted, and that scared you. it scared you that he wanted it, and it scared you more that you did too.

“i know. i’m not scared of you. i’m scared of me,” you admitted, your eyes shamefully downcast to the dips of his collarbone. kyle was a defined man, his bone structure harsh and his features sharp. there was a hard angle where his jaw met his throat, and where his throat met his shoulders, and where his shoulders met his biceps. his legs were the same, strong muscle tapering to a pronounced kneecap and into a rounded calve.

“why?” he asked, his entire hand eclipsing the side of your face. you chuckled, the sound airy, as your eyes traced the prominent vein popping from his neck. you followed it to his jaw, and to his full lips, and to his smiling eyes.

“i shouldn’t want you the way i do, in the situation we’re in, and i’m terrified. i’ve never wanted someone this way before.”

“don’t be fearful of your desire, dearest. it’s the one thing that’s kept you going this long,” he hushed, nose brushing yours. you closed your eyes on instinct, exhaled shakily, weaved your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. “let it guide you, not inhibit you.”

“kiss me.”

you waited no more than a second before his lips devoured yours, his kiss searing against your trembling mouth. his fingers bruised your skin, pulling you closer, and closer, until you were straddling his lap. he held you by the waist, pressed his chest to yours, trailed his touch beneath your shirt to caress your bare skin.

you were a nervous wreck atop him, breathy sighs leaving your lips with every press of his to your neck and jaw. you hadn’t released your hold of his shirt in quite some time, your fingers tangled in the thin fabric, knuckles shaking against his soft chest. you were entirely caught in the feeling of his skin sliding against yours, his warm breath caressing your prickling nerves, his tongue brushing your bottom lip. he was a good kisser. you were realizing this as your legs trembled on either side of him.

“please don’t hurt me,” you whispered between kisses, eyes squeezed shut as tightly as you could get them. kyle took your face in his palms and drew his mouth away entirely, his lips puffy and smiling when you finally met his gaze.

“i wouldn’t dream of it. you and me against the world, remember?” he mumbled, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. “you should get some sleep. no offense, but you look like you’ve been run over by a train.” the chuckle punctuating his statement didn’t make it any less true. you knew you looked rough. the days with little to no sleep were adding up in the bags beneath your eyes. even so, lava burned in your depths, aching for him and only him.

“i don’t need rest,” you breathed, leaning in for another kiss. kyle indulged you, his lips moving fluidly with yours, your nails embedding their prints into the lean muscle of his back. he breathed shakily against you, his mouth bruisingly caressing yours. you felt a low hum bubbling in your chest, drawn out by his fingers groping your thighs.

“don’t let me continue. you won’t like it if i do,” he gasped into your mouth, teeth grazing your lower lip. you could feel the sweat beginning to gather on your skin, dampening your shirt. something about kyle was so brazen, so heated. you’d never sweat like this before, even in the adrenaline rush of the games, or the training leading up to it. even in the summer heat, without a single drop of water.

“i want to. i want you.” you weren’t lying. you weren’t one for lying, even when it was a technical necessity. everything in you was screaming for every piece of him, begging for it, burning for it. your every nerve was alight, buzzing beneath his bruising touch and starving lips.

“i would die for you.” his words struck you harder than any ax could. having someone just as willing to die for you as you were for them was an odd experience, an experience you hadn’t prepared yourself for in the slightest. you were winded, wheezing and gasping as kyle pressed open mouthed kisses to the side of your throat.

“you’ll never have to,” you whimpered, subtly grinding your hips against kyle’s. the groan he let out was soft, buzzing on repeat in your ears, drenching you from the core outward. you could feel his eagerness welling beneath your hips, pressing into the crevices of your lower half. you knew he could feel yours, your loose trousers growing damp as his hands clawed at your ass.

“god, please take these off,” he rushed, tongue stumbling over his words and over your lips. you couldn’t bring yourself to find a reason why you shouldn’t, drunken by the loving haze he’d entrapped you in. your hips met the cold hardwood, fingers shaking as they pried your bottoms from your body. kyle tore your shirt over your head, breathless as he took in every exposed piece of skin his widened eyes could find.

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered as he hastily threw his own top to the other side of the room. you couldn’t find the air in your lungs, gaze trained on the scars littering his chest. kyle would never cease to amaze you, even in the horrific, shredded state his chest remained in. long, jagged scars raised the skin of his chest, one just beneath his ribs and the other two parallel over his heart. you couldn’t resist reaching to touch him, dusting over the remnants of his days in the arena.

“don’t look at them,” he mumbled, ashamed and dejected. you dipped your head, shimmying slightly off his lap, and pressed a few chaste kisses to the torn skin of his chest. his breath hitched, his hand knotting in your hair.

“is this why you never take your shirt off around me?” you breathed, tracing each line burrowed in his lean chest muscles. he hesitated, then nodded, and brought you in for another kiss. you didn’t fight him, didn’t fight to continue the conversation. you melted into him, fingers twisting in his curly hair, hips subtly rocking into his. he was a breathy mess, letting out the smallest sounds, your lips swallowing every single one. you’d never been so eager to touch a human being before. never so desperate to show your affection.

it took only a few moments for kyle to pry his pajama bottoms from his body, during which he slid you into the floor. your bare thighs touched the hardwood and a shiver rippled down your spine from the chill running over your bottom half. his hands were unrelenting, pushing your pliant body into the floor, squeezing your sides like you’d disappear if he stopped. which, in a sense, it was completely rational. you were staring death in the face, and with each kiss and each movement of his hips, kyle was laughing right back at it.

“i need you,” he whispered into your tongue, tugging at your underwear. you could only bear a nod, throat riddled with fear, uncertainty clawing at your chest. you’d never done any of this before, never felt touch like this, never let yourself be vulnerable enough to engage in such lewd activities. it only made sense for kyle to be your first, and hopefully you his.

all caution thrown to the wind, you pulled your underwear off, and kyle tossed his across the room. the sight uncovered before you made you gulp. he was large, well endowed, hiding much more than you imagined you could take. your loins ached at the thought.

you had no time to dwell on the large package he’d kept hidden in his trousers, two long fingers sliding into you with such suddenness you couldn’t hold back the drawn out noise boiling in your chest. being touched like this… it was pleasant, overwhelmingly so, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take. you writhed on the floor of your tribute quarters, fingers locked into his hair, eyes squeezed shut. you were shaking. a coil in your stomach was tightening, like a spring ready to snap. you couldn’t find the willpower to stop, lost in the pleasure of his fingers stroking your innards with such careful precision you doubted he was a virgin.

“kyle,” you gasped, back pulling off the floor, fingernails digging into his scalp. “kyle, i-“ you didn’t get to finish, your mind disappearing into a void, your legs quaking and dripping heat spasming against his fingers. coming back down, you spotted the utter shock paling his face, his fingers sliding out with dampened ease. a slight smile quirked his lips. you hated to admit it, but you certainly had a thing for his fingers. especially as he licked them clean of your nether’s juices.

“you’re too much,” he managed to chuckle, leaning so close your hardened nipples brushed his rib cage. you couldn’t help the high pitched moan ripped from your body, especially as something hard prodded at the same hole his fingers had just worked their magic on. a glance down revealed kyle’s cock, hard and swollen, prodding at your aching cunt. you widened your legs and held your breath in anticipation.

the first half entered with striking ease, forcefully expanding your inner walls to accommodate. it was a sickly sweet sensation, bordering on painful. the rest of it pushed in abruptly, pushing you apart far too rapidly for your body seemingly to handle. you could’ve cried from the tingle of unease, feeling raw and opened and vulnerable beneath the man you’d come to adore.

kyle’s face was tight, drawn up into a concentrated scowl, eyes squeezed shut and breath held in his chest. he didn’t move an inch, a patch of orange hair brushing your labia, thighs flush with yours. it took a moment to adjust to the new sensation burrowed within you. for the sensation to transform into the strangest pleasure you’d ever felt. an experimental wiggle of your hips, a nod, and a tentative move in and out. he brushed every nerve ending spanning your insides, every piece of your body, every spot you could ever think of.

it was so pleasurable you couldn’t breathe. every nerve ending was alight, buzzing under your skin with want. you wanted every piece of him, every inch of his body touching yours. his lips met yours in a bruising kiss, tongue brushing against yours, every tentative stroke of his hips and his mouth sending a jolt of electricity to the bridge between your bodies.

“i’m gonna-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence, a quaking sigh rippling through his chest. you wanted him, every inch to the fullest, every bit of him you could have. if this was it, your final chance at intimacy with your best friend, you were going to steal it and indulge in it and trap it within the binds of your rib cage. tomorrow wasn’t promised. tonight was the only thing that mattered.

his hips stuttered, a breathy moan passing from his throat to yours, a foreign warmth spotting your lower stomach. you could feel it leaking over your skin, pooling beneath you, and never once did you let him break the kiss. never once did you let him go. you didn’t think you could if you wanted to. arena be damned, kyle was yours, and you drank him like the last few drops of water left on the planet.

[h-worksrambles]

I have a real bug bear with this strange assumption I see in a lot of online discussion of Engage. That if you didn’t like Engage’s story you must be some Three Houses newbie who doesn’t know what Fire Emblem is.

My dude, this ain’t my first rodeo. I’ve played a pretty good chunk of the series at this point. I played Blazing Blade and Sacred Stones. I played Awakening and Shadows of Valentia. More recently I finished both Tellius games and Genealogy of the Holy War. I know Fire Emblem writing can and has been far better than whatever the hell they were doing with Engage. Hell, I like Three Houses but I don’t think it’s the best Fire Emblem story by a long shot. I could write a whole other piece on my complicated relationship with that game’s writing.

Playing the other games just better highlights to me how Engage is definitely trying to tell a story that harkens back to those games, but routinely comes up short. It wants to be breezy and colourful like the GBA games, but its aesthetic and character design is far less cohesive than any of those three games. It wants to cleverly marry gameplay with story like the SNES Jugdral games but is too scared to let its player punches last longer than a chapter. It wants to key into Awakening’s simple yet heartfelt nostalgic template but fails to clear even that middling bar due to an inability to set up any of its big emotional moments. It repurposes multiple plot points and story concepts from Fates, but doesn’t really improve on any of its shortcomings in setup and character writing.

Most of all, it’s at war with itself, unable to decide whether to be a campy romp that is pure self indulgent fanservice, or a more heartfelt story with genuine dramatic moments. It opens with a wonderfully cheesy tokusatsu esque transformation sequence and never reaches that level of camp again until near the very end. Meanwhile, there are rare moments of genuinely good character stuff. But they’re the exception to the rule as most of the story’s big emotional moments are utterly lacking in buildup. The writers just had a cool scene in mind and didn’t bother to put the work in to earn any of them. What we get is an uncanny valley that ends up simply being boring. It’s too dry and self serious to embrace its naive camp. And it’s too phoned in and sloppily written to really be earnest. There’s a burgeoning theme of family and self identity that’s begging to be explored more but never goes anywhere. Between Alear’s past and hints of a character arc, the clumsy half integration of the Emblems, and other half formed concepts and characters like Veyle, Lumera and Sombron, Engage is a story with a finger in several pies at once, but never placing more than the tip on any of them.

It’s not ‘just a simple story’. Shadows of Valentia and Sacred Stones are simple stories. Engage is honestly one of the more out there and wild plots in the series. Nor is it ‘not taking itself seriously’. It’s absolutely trying to make you feel something. But it rushes through and fumbles every good idea it has. Engage reminds me more of modern Pokémon than anything. It wants to play at being a big RPG. It wants to make you sit through hours and hours of cutscenes, give you a huge colourful cast of characters, and end on a big anime-esque finale. But its dialogue and cutscenes are flat, the characters never hit their full potential, and the big hype moments are totally unearned and out of left field.

If Engage’s story really was just safe and simple, I wouldn’t even mind. If it had more respect for the player’s time, and trimmed down its cutscene length, acknowledging that it’s not doing anything ambitious and just letting you get to the gameplay quicker, that would be fine. Conversely, if it actually did go all the way with any of its half formed themes and characters, it could be genuinely interesting. Hell, it could even have a been a totally bat shit, campy spectacle thar leaned utterly into the cheese and I’d probably have loved it. But it’s none of those things. It’s just incompetently put together. Sloppy, irritating and painfully dry.

The unending Three Houses Vs Engage discourse just misses the forest for the trees. That not only has Fire Emblem not fixed it’s worst writing habits in over 10 years, they’ve actually gotten worse.

It’s apparently too much to ask for a story that can walk the line between falling apart under the weight of its own ambition, or doing the bare minimum and relying on melodramatic spectacle to hide its own shallowness.

It’s too much to ask for a game that is able to give its main character real depth and flaws to grapple with because that would get in the way of the player’s power fantasy, letting them feel like the world’s most special little chosen one who everyone loves unconditionally.

It’s too much to ask for a 50 hour RPG with over 7 hours of cutscenes to reach even the standard level of acceptable-to-good generic fantasy writing that most of its franchise’s predecessors reached.

Engage’s story isn’t a ‘return to form’ because it’s ‘simple.’ It’s not ‘prioritising gameplay over story’. They were trying to tell a story and failed, nothing more to it. It’s an anniversary game that tries to harken back to the series’ past but only repeats its worst qualities with none of the strengths.

[rorywritesjunk]

Be gentle with yourself as you uncover Your best kept secrets yet to be discovered

Buggy meets an infamous pirate who dabbles in magic that everyone seems to be after, but they only have eyes for Buggy. Why is he so special?

Rating: PGish. Warning: None. Buggy is Buggy. A/N: My "Howl's Moving Castle" fic based off the movie because I never read the book. It will have different moments than the movie just to omit some things. This story uses "You" but I couldn't not give the character a name and for some reason "Shore" is what I thought of. And Shore is referred to as they/them, nonbinary, and breaks hearts wherever they go. Buggy is Sophie in this fic, is 22, and not always in a good mood.

Title comes from "Better In The Morning" by Birdtalker.

Taglist: @lostfirefly @fanaticsnail  @youreinthewind 

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4

Chapter IV

Buggy definitely had his work cut out for him as a maintenance man. 

There were creaky stairs, some loose floorboards, a wobbly chair, and shelves falling off the walls left and right. As he fixed one in the main living area, another one would fall somewhere else in the ship. Was Shanks somehow doing this to be obnoxious? Buggy sighed as he hammered in another nail to secure a shelf before giving it a few shakes to make sure it was secured. Why did he say he was a maintenance man? 

The table was… okay. He had enlisted Luffy to help him clear the table first of dishes and other nonsense, but the boy broke one plate the second he picked it up so Buggy just had him get out of his way. He didn’t want to clean up after the boy while cleaning the rest of the ship. 

Buggy spent time cleaning the table off, sanding down any roughened edges, and hammering in any loose nails. In the end, it looked better than when he first walked in though it had still seen many meals at it. There were stains, dents, and scuffs in the wood, but that didn’t bother him that much in the end. 

“Mister Bogey, what’re you doing next?” Luffy asked as he stood there with a broom. He thought he was being helpful by sweeping, but honestly, he was just making a bigger mess by creating dust clouds.

Buggy sighed. “It’s Buggy. And I’m going to hang you outside by your toes if you keep making a mess, kid!”

“I’m helping!” Luffy insisted.

“You’re helping make a bigger mess!” Buggy shot back as he pointed to the stairs. “If you want to sweep then do it out on the deck!”

“But I want to help you!” Luffy insisted, gripping the broom handle tightly in his hands as he pouted at Buggy. That made him pause for a moment. He wanted to help, really? Buggy… wasn’t used to that. Back at the circus he stopped asking for help because the times he did he was met with resistance. Why should he expect help now from a kid? He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tightly as he tried to think of a task Luffy could do that would actually help him.

“Fine. Can… you organize the dirty dishes by what they are?” Buggy asked, knowing he would need to tackle that task sooner rather than later. “Silverware, plates, bowls, cups. Organize them like that.”

Luffy took in what he was asking and nodded before hurrying over to the sink where the dishes were piled up. “I can do that!”

“Carefully!” Buggy ordered. “No more broken plates, kid!”

“Okay Mister Boogie!”

“It’s Buggy!”

~

Buggy replaced a step that had snapped in half that led up to the main deck. He and Luffy weren’t able to get up there without much difficulty, so he had the boy find some scrap wood so he could fix it and Buggy was pleased that the boy came through, finding an old step stool that had seen better days, so Buggy managed to repurpose it into a step. 

He straightened up, rubbing his back as he looked proudly at his finished task. He never thought to add maintenance man to his list of possible jobs after leaving the circus, but so far he felt he was doing alright. Sure, every joint in his body was aching, he had some splinters, he hit his thumb with the hammer a few times already, causing it to bruise and swell, and Luffy only managed to break two plates and a bowl when he organized the dirty dishes for him. So far the day was okay.

“So, Mister Buggy, how did you come to find us all the way out here?” Your voice startled him as you came down the stairs, stopping just above the step he fixed. He looked up nervously, wondering if you could see through his curse or if you even remembered him. He hoped you didn’t. He didn’t want you to see him become a pathetic old man instead of… a pathetic young man who needed rescuing. 

“Oh, well… you see…” He wasn’t sure how to respond. Would you see through any lie he said? Maybe you’d kick him off the ship, fire him from this ‘job’ that he made up on the spot, leave him to die out in the wilderness to be food for scavenging animals. 

You held your hand out to him suddenly and he looked at you in surprise before taking it. Carefully, you placed your right foot onto the newly finished step, then the left, smiling at him as you looked down at him from it. 

“I hope to keep you around to fix things when they break, Mister Buggy.” You smiled as you descended the last few. “Please don’t go away any time soon.”

He hated how warm his face got at that smile, or the way his heart started pounding. Was this his heart giving out in his advancing age? Why were you still holding his hand? 

“What's in your pocket, Mister Buggy?” You suddenly asked, shaking him from his thoughts. He looked down, his free hand reaching into his pocket while his other hand held yours. He dug around for a moment and frowned, pulling out a snail shell and holding it out to you. Smoke started to come from the shell, it felt hot to the touch suddenly and Buggy dropped it, watching it land on the step he just repaired. It fell apart, leaving a sigil scorched into the wood. 

“What is that?!” Buggy asked. “I just fixed that step!”

You crouched down, waving your hand over it and Buggy saw the marks rise up from the wood and into your palm. It was a sight to see and he knew he’d have to get used to seeing magic in motion if he was going to live on this ship. You smiled at Buggy as you straightened up.

“Just a message from an old friend.” You told him, clenching your fist for a moment before opening it to show him your empty palm. “The Witch of the Waste sends her regards.”

Buggy bristled at the mention of Alvida but he didn’t speak, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. You said nothing as you brushed past him, heading over to Shanks and giving him instructions. Buggy only caught a few words, his hearing not what it was just days before as a young man, but he heard you say something about moving the ship elsewhere. Oh, were they stationary this entire time, or did it float around among the clouds freely? Buggy actually wasn’t sure, he hadn’t taken the time to look out.

You suddenly brushed past Buggy to get on the step he just fixed, giving him a smile. “I’m going to wash up. When you have time there’s a broken cabinet in my bathroom, could you fix it when you have time?”

“Uh, yes, of course!” He nodded. “I’m your maintenance man after all! I can fix anything!”

You chuckled softly and nodded in agreement. “I’m glad you joined us then. There’s a lot to fix around here.”

You ascended the stairs after that, leaving Buggy alone at the bottom. You were glad he joined, even if it was a surprise for all of you. It felt nice to hear that but he quickly shook the feeling off, figuring you were just saying that so he’d fix the cabinet sooner. He would get to it next, once you were out of the bathroom. It was just weird to feel appreciated like that but he tried to brush it off. Sooner or later you’d probably kick him off the ship to fend for himself anyway. No one wanted a pathetic maintenance man on their crew.

~

The main living space looked better now that Buggy repaired wall shelves, fixed furniture, and even washed all the dishes. It was a little more like a home now than a chaotic space. He felt proud of his work, though the next thing to do was check the chimney. While Shanks seemed to have no problem burning along, enjoying the stacks of wood Buggy had given him earlier, smoke was getting everywhere, and before Buggy could attempt to clean the soot from the wall, he had to see why the smoke was so bad.

“Can you hear me?” Luffy yelled up to him from the fireplace as Shanks looked up. Buggy had gotten outside onto the main deck, finding the chimney that was near the main mast. Was it safe to have a chimney like this? Wouldn’t sparks light things on fire? Then again, you were a wizard of sorts, so things could be enchanted to prevent that. He had a broom to knock loose any soot that built up. 

“I can, are you able to see anything, kid?” Buggy shouted back from the opening of the chimney. He was ready to shove the broom in bristles first, but he wanted to be sure it was safe to do so. Shanks would be just fine.

“No, I just see Shanks and hear your voice.” Luffy told him. 

“Get out of the way then!” Buggy shoved the broom down the chimney, gripping the handle tightly as he plunged it up and down, trying to knock loose as much of the crud as possible. He fought for a few minutes before it became easier. He must have knocked it all loose, so he looked down the chimney, seeing just a bit of the fireplace but without a fire. “Everything okay down there?”

“Shanks is out!” Luffy sounded panicked which worried Buggy, so he hurried back down as fast as his body allowed. He nearly tripped on the steps going down, but he stopped when he saw you at the fireplace, picking up a small coal surrounded by flame. He watched as you gently blew against it, seeming to breathe life back into it, before setting it down on two fresh logs. When Buggy approached, you looked at him with an amused expression.

“Please be careful with Shanks, we do need him around.” You told him gently as Luffy cheered as Shanks started bemoaning the fact that Buggy just tried to kill him. It was all an accident, really, but you didn’t seem mad at him. Instead you touched his hand gently and he felt the warmth of the fire for a moment before you pulled back and headed for the stairs to leave the ship. You spun a dial beside the door, Buggy watched it spin for a moment before it stopped and you opened the door, stepping outside and leaving the others behind. 

“Why’d you try to kill Shanks, Mister Buffy?” Luffy asked innocently. Buggy huffed in annoyance, scowling at the boy before he went to grab his makeshift tool box he cobbled together.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, and besides, Shanks is fine! A little soot won’t hurt him!” Buggy snapped at him as Luffy went to grab another piece of wood for the fire. “Now, I have work to do in the bedrooms, got it? If you don’t want any of your things thrown out, you better deal with them now, kid.”

Luffy’s eyes widened and he rushed past Buggy and up the stairs. His room was not the cleanest and he wanted to protect his treasures from him. Buggy smirked and looked over at Shanks; the flame was watching him carefully.

“Y’know, if I go out then that’s the end of Shore.” The flame told Buggy. “We’re connected, we can’t live without the other.”

“Well, that’s just dumb.” Buggy grumbled; he couldn’t imagine such a life of having someone to depend on. He depended on himself and that was it. “Try not to go out then, you silly little flame, if Shore needs you that badly.” 

He turned to head up the stairs but glanced back at the flame for a moment, thinking over what he said. Could you really die if Shanks was put out? Buggy didn’t really want to think about it, instead choosing to be more careful next time even if Shanks was annoying. With a sigh, he started up the stairs, wincing as his lower back and hips protested at the movement. Right, he was old. He needed to get used to it since he would likely be this for the rest of his now short life. 

He managed to make it up the stairs to the level where the bathroom and bedrooms were. Oh, right, he would need his own room, wouldn’t he? Though, he could just do with a cot, even if his old bones would protest it. Shaking his head, he headed for the bathroom, opening the door and freezing at the sight before him. Clutter, a cabinet resting on the floor, holes in the wall, and a tub and toilet that looked as though they had never been clean. There were bottles and products scattered all across the floor as well. 

How could two people live like this?

Buggy went to open the window first, wanting to get fresh air in there. Movement below caught his attention and he saw that they were actually moving, sailing over the rocks and terrain as clouds drifted by. Oh, this ship really did sail in a way, didn’t it?

“Shanks, is that you making the ship move?” Buggy shouted down to him.

“Of course it is!” The little flame called back to him. Huh, it was impressive, but Buggy wouldn’t say that.

“Guess you’re good for something then.” Buggy mumbled before he turned his attention back to the bathroom. Okay, it was time to start cleaning.