#but why is her sense of style completely gone

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn (Part 17)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings:��Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death,

Word Count: 3058

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16)

Notes: heyyyy what do you know, i found it in me to get this part out. im proud.

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Day 195 Part 3

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You never been one to throw caution to the wind, but with what sits before you, the urge is strong.

Animals were one of the first things to go when disease swept across the world, which is why it’s so difficult not to pick up the juicy chicken breast that’s steaming on the plate in front of you, and completely ravage it.

Your mouth waters at the sight. There are greens, too. A blend of spinach and vegetables cooked to perfection in animal fat. It’s the first real meal you’ve seen in…fuck you don’t even know how long it’s been since you’ve seen real meat like this, nor food that wasn’t expired and from a can.

The only thing keeping your restraint in place is your companions' determination. The sprinkle of common sense that hasn’t fizzled into a ravenous beast at the scent of your meal is easy to overlook, but Azriel’s menacing presence beside you isn’t. His back is ramrod straight in his own seat, and the food doesn’t seem to be affecting him in the slightest. He’s undeterred by their taunts. Instead, his woody eyes drink in your surroundings for the umpteenth time, as if there might be a hint as to what’s really going on here. 

On your other side, you’re flanked by Cassian, who does look like he’s struggling to keep himself from sinking his teeth into the juicy thigh on his plate, however little it might be. It’s more than he’s had to eat in days, months, and he wants it so fucking badly.

In fact, no one’s touching their food, which is a red flag of itself, but your head is swimming at the smells, your stomach a mess of knots that loosen at the idea of food, and tighten at the thought of where your best friend could be.

You’re also a little afraid, if you’re being honest, of getting sick should you eat something this…real after having gone so long without.

Nesta watches you from across the table with a piercing stare. There’s a malice you’ve become accustomed to being fed in the little time you’ve known her. You understand that she’s worried for her sister, out there with little protection, but you’re worried too. You feel as if Feyre is your sister as well. You’ve been winning your own little war against the undead for too long to remember.

At her side is who you can only decern to be her lover, Eris. You ponder their relationship, what you saw in the woods. Perhaps they’re nothing more than companions, but with the way the auburn-haired man keeps stealing glances at her, worry etched in his brow, you know there must be more.

The chair beside Eris is filled with a near clone of him. They have twin eyes and looks of caution on their fox-shaped faces. The unnamed man wears his hair long down his back, a single braid hangs down the side of his face. It’s not a nice one, practiced, but messy, like whoever put it there was distracted more often than not during styling. The only differentiator is the color of their skin, because even the shape of their eyes and their stature is eerily similar. It’s clear that they are nothing like their scumbag of a father, and the thought of Beron alone makes you shiver in your seat.

There’s an empty seat beside him, and you can’t help the stab of guilt you feel at the sight of it. You don’t know if they’ve lost someone important to their little unit they have going on here, or if there’s a reason for the unoccupied seat.

Cassian’s stomach growls loudly, breaking the terse silence. 

“Everything is safe to eat, I can assure you,” Eris mentions after clearing his throat. Nesta shoots him a look that could make even a zombie cower, but he must be used to it because he takes the betraying look with grace, gently settling a palm onto her lap.

Nesta doesn’t shove it away like you expect her to. Instead, her lips go razor thin. The pair stare at each other so intensely that you feel like you’re intruding on something monumental.

Eventually, Nesta breaks. With a sharp inhalation, she turns her gaze to you. She doesn’t look happy, but at least she doesn’t look like she wants to reach across the table and maul you for losing her sister.

“Eat,” she all but demands. She cringes, grits her teeth, and adds like the words are truly poison in her mouth, “Please.”

“You’ll excuse us if we don’t trust you,” Azriel replies curtly. Your eyes soften as they land on him, even if his gaze is trained on your hosts. Weeks ago, he’d been wary of you, and now he’s here protecting you from the outsiders that are holding you captive.

You’ve never been so thankful for him, and you remind yourself to thank him for it later.

“Don’t eat, then.” Nesta shrugs as if his words don’t bother her in the slightest. Your whereabouts of Feyre seem to have caught her off guard because right now she is the perfect poise of excellence. Her nature could give any queen a run for their crown.

She’s the first one to dig into her meal. She uses the cutlery as if they’re weapons, tearing into the meat with a force that has you praying to any higher being that Feyre and Rhys are on their way to you, because you do not want to be on the other end of Nesta’s knife.

Your eyes flicker back down to your plate, to the shiny silverware placed on either side of your plate. Hell, you’re not even sure you remember how to use them anymore, with how long you’ve had to make do on the road.

“Please, eat,” Eris counters with a stern look that doesn’t affect Nesta in the slightest. Eris motions to his brother and they both pick up their forks, as if trying to show you everything is okay.

“I don’t trust the animals, either,” Azriel responds.

“How about the vegetables, then?” Eris offers, and you think you catch a glint of pleading in his amber eyes. You think he’s trying to keep things civil and calm for Nesta’s sake. You’re sure she’s worried to pieces about her littlest sister out there when the sun is so close to hiding away for another night of hell. “The animals are perfectly healthy, though I assure you the food will not go to waste if you don’t eat it.”

“How are they safe?” Cassian questions, grimacing down at the meat. You know that he out of everyone in your little group needs it the most. You’ve seen his protruding ribs only yesterday, and with him being the biggest in your group, he needs the nutrients more than anyone.

A sudden urge of protectiveness washes over you. You want him safe and healthy, want both him and Azriel safe and happy, and you wish more than anything that you could give it to them.

Only time will tell.

Eris gives a very diplomatic response. “My family has owned this land for generations,” he starts, and you don’t like to think of how he is Beron’s son. It makes all of the desperation to eat, subside. “We have been raising and breeding our own meat and dairy for just as long. They have never showed signs of disease, but perhaps it’s because they live a life unknowing of what goes on in this world.” You’re not following, but Eris continues before your confusion causes you to blurt out questions.

“My brother—Lucien,” he nods toward his brother beside him. “Takes care of them. When our father first heard the mumblings of a pandemic so devastating, the world as we knew it would never be the same, he built a bunker of sorts, where we continue to monitor and raise our animals to this day.”

“That was about the only smart thing he ever did,” Lucien mumbles, looking green at the mention of his father.

You get the feeling.

Azriel says, “Yeah, we’ve had the unfortunate displeasure of meeting the bastard.”

Lucien’s utensils fall to the table with a clang that startles you in your seat. He looks sick to his stomach, his ying-yang eyes drawn down to his plate in shame. His shoulders are stiff and he’s gone so still you think he might be comatose, turning into a zombie right in front of your very eyes.

“You’ve met him?” Lucien asks, and he sounds like a little boy, reliving a trauma so ghastly that it’s altered his brain chemistry.

“Met him, killed him,” Azriel shrugs as if it was no big feat. Your stomach roils at the memory and you must look paler than normal because Cassian’s placing a. warm hand over yours in comfort. Azriel’s brashness isn’t new to you, but the reminder is too fresh. You try to focus on your hand in Cassian’s, offering him a weak smile.

The tension in the air seems to disperse with Azriel’s words. You’re pretty sure you see Lucien’s shoulders physically drop in relief, like he feels the same way you do about his father. Eris sits in his seat, stunned, but he doesn’t look upset about the news, he looks more disappointed, like he missed out on being the one to kill the crazy cannibal.

“Well, I think this calls for the good wine,” Nesta says, and you swear you see the corners of her mouth threaten to tug into a satisfied smirk.

She glances at you from across the table, and you pick up your fork.

You hope that this is the first of many things that you will agree with her on.

There is little conversation while you eat. Azriel’s brows are drawn in tight, and his mouth is set in a hard line. He keeps glancing over at you with a scolding heat in his eyes, but there’s a sliver of worry that makes you ache, like he thinks you might keel over from the chicken.

If you do, you’re not even sure you’ll be mad. It’s good fucking chicken.

You try to savor it, to eat slowly so that your body doesn’t reject the first real meal you’ve had in forever, but you can hardly control yourself. You feel like a rabid animal, hungry enough to gnaw your own arm off. You wonder if this is what the zombies outside feel like, an insatiable hunger, or if they’re so mindless they don’t feel anything at all.

You reckon you have only minutes before the food makes its reappearance, but you can’t find it in yourself to care when you slide your silverware onto your empty plate, trying to deter yourself from leaning forward and licking it clean.

Cassian has no such reservations.

“How long has it been since you’ve tried to contact my sister?” Nesta asks when the three of you have finished. Even Azriel couldn’t help but clear his plate, though he did take the longest of the three of you, more than mindful of your captors.

It makes your heart swell that he has kept an eye out for you and Cassian.

Azriel and Cassian share a look over your head, debating how much to indulge. But this is Feyre’s sister, and they want to find her and Rhys just as much, so they relent.

“We tried getting through to them this afternoon, before we ran into you,” Cassian explains. “They were too far out of range.”

“Call them again,” she demands, and Eris opens his mouth to protest but Nesta is clearly done with niceties. “No,” she snaps at the man beside her. “We have given them a place to stay and a warm meal. It’s time for them to do something in return.”

You don’t mention how you didn’t have a choice but to be here, and that they wouldn’t have had to give up their food if you were still wandering out in the woods, but your stomach is too full to argue that point.

Cassian tugs the walkie-talkie from his pocket and switches it on. The static is loud, and you all wait in anticipation until the signal calms a bit before he clicks the button on the side and makes the call. “Rhys? Feyre? Are you out there?”

It’s like waiting for a cure as the six of you listen to the channel. Nothing comes through, and Cassian calls again, to no avail.

“We’ll keep trying,” he says, a determined look in his eye. You’re pretty sure that’s the only thing keeping Nesta in her seat, because she looks like she will reach across the table and stab you with her knife.

Movement in the corner of your eye makes you flinch. Cassian’s arm reaches out to block you and Azriel’s already halfway out of his seat, ready to tear you away from the threat that stumbles into the doorway.

The threat comes in the form of what must be Feyre’s other sister, Elain. She looks ghastly, skin as white as sheet, and as well-fed as Eris’ claims them to be, she’s all skin and bones. Her brown eyes are dull and sunken, purple-rimmed as if she hasn’t had a peaceful night of sleep in years. Her blonde-brown hair sits limp on her head, knotted at the back, as if she’s been drained of all of the health in her life.

She looks like a zombie.

Nesta jumps from her chair at the same time Lucien does, the both of them rushing for Elain. Lucien gets to her first, catching her just as her knees give out and scooping her into his arms. Her head lolls against his chest as if the effort to keep it upright is a burden too much, but her dazed gaze sharpens when it lands on you.

You’re frozen in your seat. You have no words for what you’re seeing, the sickly girl who looks closer to death than a zombie. Your heart pounds a thousand miles a minute in your chest, and your fingers are white-knuckled with confusion and fear where they’re wrapped around Cassian’s forearm.

Elain’s brown eyes widen in a way that looks unnatural for her once beautiful face. Her cracked lips form husky words that are so ominous it has the hair on your body standing on end.

“Twin ravens are coming, one white and one black. One has an injured wing.”

Lucien hushes her softly, murmuring to her as he removes her from the room. “Shh, Elain. Let’s get you back to bed, petal. You shouldn’t be expending so much energy until you’re feeling better.”

Guilt stabs you a thousand times over as he takes her away. It doesn’t take long for you to connect the dots with what you’ve seen. How sickly she looks, the faraway look and ramblings that don’t make sense.

“When did it happen?” You blurt, eyes darting from a stoney-faced Nesta to a grimacing Eris to the door Lucien and Elain disappeared through. You don’t like the feeling that overcomes you, the one that wants you to get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible.

Something isn’t right here.

“It’s late,” Nesta states, looking between the three of you like she’s deciding how she’s going to kill each of you. You suppose she might, if she feels any sort of threat to her sister. For now, she needs you alive, if only to help find her other sister. She won’t dump any of you out yet, unless you can’t prove your worth.

Not unless Feyre is dead.

Azriel tucks you carefully behind him, more than aware of the threat before you. You can tell that he’s just as confused as you are. There’s a tightness to his shoulders that you don’t like, an edge to the strain of his body that screams danger.

His mouth opens to speak, but he’s cut off by the sudden voice that comes over the walkie-talkie.

“Cassian? Azriel? Do you copy?” Rhys’ panicked voice sounds through the machine. More than one emotion threatens to consume you, relief and worry. The full meal in your belly swarms like crashing waves, and you might just throw up after all.

Cassian, Azriel, and Nesta all lunge for the radio. Eris gets his hand around Nesta’s bicep and pulls her away, much to her reluctance. She claws against him but he’s only keeping her away from the three of you, still very much a threat.

Not that you’d be of any assistance should either party try to attack. You’ve collapsed in the closest chair.

“Rhys?” Cassian calls back, just as frantic. His terrified hazel eyes are locked with Azriel’s, and it’s all the black-haired boy can do to console Cassian with a reassuring hand to his shoulder. “Can you hear me? Where the fuck are you?”

It wouldn’t mean much to Nesta, who’s given up her struggling to listen into what’s happening, but to Cassian, you know the touch means everything.

Anticipation skyrockets throughout the room, bringing the temperature up to boiling as you await his response. Each second feels like an eternity, and you’re sure the vein throbbing on Nesta’s forehead is about to explode when Rhysand finally responds.

It sounds like he’s running. You pray that’s not a groan of the undead you hear in the background. “Fuck,” he curses in such a hopeless way that makes your heart drop to the floor. Whatever he’s about to say, it’s not going to be good. “I need you to come find us. I don’t know where the fuck we are, but we need help.”

Azriel rips the walkie-talkie from Cassian’s hand, ready to take the lead. He pockets one of the knives at the table and you can’t even muster the energy to joke about how a butterknife won’t be the best weapon against a horde of zombies because you’re more than ready to follow him into the fray, sans weapons, if all to save your friends.

“Where are you, Rhys? I need landmarks.”

 “Az,” Rhys breathes, but he doesn’t sound relieved. In fact, he sounds spent, and there’s no sign of Feyre on the other line. “We need help. Badly. Feyre’s been bitten.”

And hey, your dinner does make its reappearance after all.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist: @writingsbychlo @kemillyfreitas @5moremin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @waggel36  @bionic-donut @queserasera @applepie02  @azrielsbabyg  @arcadianmoonlight  @pradaxstyles  @illyrian-dreamerdreamer @reiincarnatiion  @fuckthatfeeling  @shadowsingersmate24 @poppyalice2001  @fallmyriad  @sstrohma  @tcris2020 @jeannineee  @21stcenturytaegi @ochiolism @secretly-here @harrystylesfan2686 @i-am-infinite @lees-chaotic-brain @eternallyelvish @lilah-asteria @randombibitch @st4r-girl-official @nanisearchinginnerpeace (i hope you see this idk if this tag worked 😭)

IDK if any of these tags are going to work but someone plz lmk 💙

[emloafs]

so when are we gonna talk about how the costuming for the teens in cobra kai is actually heinous

[waaayoutofline]

Like Seeing A Ghost.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Prompt: Married life and family core.

Summary: Your teenage daughter changed styles, and you cant help but be remained of a certain someone.

Warnings: None. Just love and fluff.

WORD COUNT: 1489

AN: I wrote this under the wonderful influence of sleep depravation. I just corrected it grammatically. It’s the first time I have written a family related prompt, so sorry but it’ll probably be a bit cringey :´). YDN stands for: Your daughters name btw—

It was a quiet day in the Maximoff household, a rare sense of calm settling over the space. Humming softly, you switched off the vacuum and put it away, satisfied with the tidiness of the room. The peaceful silence was soon interrupted by the doorbell, drawing your attention with mild curiosity. “I’ve got it!” you called, making your way to the door. You didn’t need to check the peephole, you already knew who it was. “Darling, finally! Your mother is almost finished with—oh dear gods.”

You froze as your 16-year-old daughter stepped inside. Taking in her appearance, your eyes widened in surprise. She shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, clearly bracing herself for the reaction that didn’t come as quickly as she expected.

Gone were her typical morning clothes, replaced by a more alternative look. She wore an oversized black t-shirt featuring an old rock band, her arms covered in fishnet sleeves, fingers adorned with silver rings and chains. Her makeup, though still a work-in-progress, was heavy with black eyeliner and smudged dark red eyeshadow. A silver cross dangled from her freshly pierced ear. She completed the outfit with a mid-length skirt and red Converse sneakers. If it weren’t for her eyes—the same color as yours—you might not have recognized her at first. But even then, the look wasn’t unfamiliar. She resembled someone else you knew all too well.

“It’s… it’s—” you began, voice faltering. Your daughter braced herself even more, her posture defiant, though you could see flickers of uncertainty in her expression. That defiant stance finally broke your composure.

“It’s like seeing a ghost! Oh, my beautiful girl,” you exclaimed, bursting into delighted laughter. “It’s like going back in time. Wanda come here please!” you called out, grinning at the uncanny resemblance.

Your heart swelled with nostalgia and amusement. You never thought you’d see such a familiar look on your own child, yet here she was, carrying a piece of the past into the present.

“What is it, love? Is it Y/D/N? I made her favorite,” Wanda called, wiping her hands with a kitchen towel before stopping abruptly. “Oh wow. This is… definitely a surprise.”

Your daughter, tired of the mixed reactions from both of you, crossed her arms defensively. “Before you say anything—no, I didn’t get any piercings or tattoos. But this is how I want to dress from now on. And if you have any issues with it, then…”

Your eyes softened at the sight of her defiance fading into vulnerability. You glanced at Wanda, who nodded. “Honey, you don’t owe us any explanations,” she said gently.

“I… don’t?” Y/D/N repeated, tentatively. You took a step forward, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Of course not. You know your mom and I want you to discover who you are. All we care about is that you don’t hurt yourself in the process. Why would you think we’d be upset?”

Your daughter’s shoulders relaxed as the tension eased. “A… friend of mine dresses like this, and her parents didn’t take it well. They told her if she didn’t dress ‘normal,’ they’d send her to some creepy summer camp.”

Wanda frowned. “Well, they’re idiots.” Your daughter smiled at that. “They are! Like your mom said, we’ll never judge you for who you are. All we want is for you to be safe and happy.”

With that, she smiled and pulled you both into a hug. “Thanks for being such cool parents.” You exchanged a glance with Wanda and hugged her back.

“I mean… if we weren’t, we’d be total hypocrites.” Your daughter tilted her head in curiosity, prompting a laugh from you as you moved toward the living room.

Wanda scoffed. “Oh, don’t you dare, Y/N,” she warned playfully, following close behind, already anticipating your next move. Before she could stop you, you pulled out the family photo album. Your daughter plopped down next to you on the couch, while Wanda took her place on the armrest, wearing a mock pout.

Flipping through the pages, you found what you were looking for. “Why haven’t I seen this before?” Y/D/N asked, eyes wide with interest.

“These are from years before you were born,” you explained softly, turning the album’s pages with care. “Most were taken when your mother and I first met. We kept them hidden… because she was a little shy about them.”

Wanda playfully nudged your arm, her smile a little bashful. “Do you really have to show them? I’d like for our daughter to still respect me, you know.”

You grinned, glancing at your daughter. “Of course, I do! I mean, just look at her. You two are practically twins—it’s adorable.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, though her blush deepened. “You’re having too much fun with this.”

As you flipped another page, your daughter gasped, eyes widening in disbelief. Wanda’s face turned a deep shade of red as she quickly covered her face with her hands, her embarrassment palpable. You, however, couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face. “Mom, why didn’t you tell me you were so cool?” Y/D/N exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over as she snatched the album from you, flipping through the pictures like a child on Christmas morning.

“What do you mean “were”?” Wanda huffed in mock offense. “I’m still cool!”

A brief silence followed, punctuated only by Wanda’s playful exasperation. You reached out, squeezing her hand, the warmth of her skin grounding both of you. The resemblance between mother and daughter was striking, as if time had folded in on itself. “That picture,” you said, pointing to a particular one, “was taken around the time I first met your mom. She was this emo, tough, and incredibly intimidating girl—” You started dramatically, glancing at Wanda, who shot you a half-hearted glare.

“Okay, okay, no need to humiliate me further,” Wanda cut in, trying to maintain some shred of dignity.

“Humiliate?” You softened your voice, your eyes meeting hers. “That was the version of you I fell in love with.” You turned another page, your tone warm and nostalgic. “I mean, the whole ‘bad girl’ thing really worked for me.”

“Mom, gross!” Y/D/N laughed, wrinkling her nose in mock disgust.

You nudged her playfully. “Oh, hush. What I’m trying to say is… I fell in love with that Wanda, and every version after her.”

With each page you turned, years passed in the photographs. Different styles, changing haircuts, moments of growth captured in still images. But one thing remained constant—your love.

“…and the next,” you continued quietly. “Because that’s what love is. It’s not about how someone dresses or looks. It’s about loving them for who they are, through every version, and with how they express themselves to the world.”

You closed the album gently and reached for your daughter’s hands, holding them tenderly. “That’s why no matter how you choose to present yourself, it will never change how we feel about you. You are our daughter, and we will always love you—no matter what.” Y/D/N smiled, her eyes bright with relief and understanding. Wanda, still blushing from your words, looked at both of you with so much love that it was almost overwhelming. A sudden thought crossed her mind, her lips curving into a small, playful smile.

“You know,” Wanda began, her voice light, “if you’re interested, I still have some of those clothes.”

Your daughter’s eyes lit up. “No way.”

“Oh yes, way. Why don’t you start by heading up to the attic? I’ll join you in a sec.”

In an instant, your daughter gave Wanda a quick, excited hug before practically running towards the stairs. You and Wanda exchanged a glance, bursting into quiet laughter. As you stood up, Wanda caught you by the waist, pulling you close, her eyes filled with nothing but love. For a moment, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. She leaned in and kissed you, slow and tender.

“Mama! Do you still have that red jacket?” your daughter called from upstairs, breaking the moment. Wanda sighed, chuckling under her breath as she pulled away.

“I do!” Wanda called back, her voice filled with affection. “In fact, that jacket I stole from Auntie Nat!”

Another excited shriek echoed down the stairs, and you both shared a fond look.

“I better go before she tears down the attic,” Wanda said with a small smile, taking a step back.

You nodded, watching her as she began to leave, but she paused at the doorway and turned back, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Hey,” she whispered, “I am cool, right?”

A full, hearty laugh escaped you, the sound filling the room with warmth. “Yeah, Wanda. You’re the coolest.”

Wanda grinned, the playful tension melting away as she disappeared up the stairs, leaving you with a heart full of love and a smile that lingered long after she was gone.

[dcxdpdabbles]

I loved Summon AU, is it possible that you make more Summon AU?

The aftermath of the summoning leaves the Wayne Manor in a strange sense of foreboding. No one really knows what the Ghost King has done with their list or what it means for them that he has accepted.

Everyone tried to go about their daily lives, attempting to act like they weren't looking over their shoulders. Bruce had nearly broken a blood vessel when he heard about them doing a stupid online trend when they knew magic and gods were real.

They couldn't think of a better excuse for why they did besides "it seemed funny at the time."

Bruce had been so unimpressed with them all that he broke out the big guns.

That night, Alfred grounded them. He really sat everyone- minutes Cass because she had escaped through the window after Danny called- and told them they would not be allowed to use any form of technology unless it was related to their nighttime job.

They would also be given a chore list to complete every day until their punishment was over.

Even though neither Dick or Jason lived at home anymore, they too were grounded and didn't bother to even try to argue with the aging butler. Cass was informed of her own punishment through a text, and she returned about thirty minutes later, ready to face her punishment.

She reorganized everything in storage- and in Wayne Manor, there was a lot in storage- without a single complaint, but she did seem somewhat nervous. And excited?

Like a child waiting to open a present.

That was out of character for Cass, but no one was brave enough to ask her about it. Life before the manor was a taboo topic when it came to Cass.

A week later, her restless behavior finally came to light.

When the doorbell rang, Alfred was just looking over the wood polishing job Tim and Damian had been assigned. Confused- as there were no expected guests and the kids were all still grounded- he approached the door cautiously. Tim was on standby in case things went south.

A young adult, likely barely eighteen, with pretty blue eyes, a vast, charming smile, and a gorgeous winter-themed dress, was on the other side of the door. Their hair is short but styled to have one side longer than the other, framing their face perfectly.

A spinnable circle pin on her dress read Gender Fluid in the unmovable part and "She/Her day" in the spinal part.

"Hi there," She chirps, a dimple on full display. "I'm Danny."

"Good afternoon, Danny. My name is Alfred. How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if Cass was home?" Dany starts surprising Alfred and Tim -who were eavesdropping around the corner- as the girl carefully plays with her hair. "I was hoping to talk to her."

"Miss Casandra is currently not allowed guests." The butler starts slowly. He watches her face fall dramatically before humming. "I can, however, pass along a message to her."

"Oh yeah, that be great. Please let her know Danny was wondering if she would like to go with me to see a ballet tonight. Um if she's allowed to go out."

Tim's eyes widen. A date? Danny had come here in person to ask Cass if she wanted to go on a date? Then had the courage to ask Alfred, to his face, if she could take his grandaughter out?

Who is she? Tim thinks amazed. He wants to text the rest of the group chat, which would invade Cass' privacy. He waits a few minutes until Alfred responds.

"Miss Casandra is currently grounded. Unfortunately, she and her siblings cannot leave until their punishment ends."

Tim winces. Hopefully, Cass being nineteen and still being grounded at her age didn't scare off Danny. Some people didn't understand how much power Alfred's word had over the manor and frankly, those people didn't deserve Cass anyway.

But it would make her sad.

"Oh, that's okay. Thank you for letting me-"

A scream makes everyone jump. Tim whirls around to find Damian pressed against the main stairway. His face has gone three sheets of white, staring at Danny with horror.

"Y-you!"

Danny tilts her head. "Me?"

"Y-you!" Damian gasps and Tim is highly alarmed that his voice is tinted with fear. "Why are you here?!"

"I came to ask Cass if-"

"You will not take Cain from me, Ghost King! I will destroy your core before you try to get near her!" Damian screams, hand suddenly holding a glowing green sword, but his threat doesn't hold much because he is literally shaking in his boots. "You have your summon payment already! You shall leave Cain alone!"

What.

"Oh! You think no, no. I'm not here for her soul or anything. Cass and I go way back when she lived on the streets. " Danny- the ghost king they summoned using a list of their gay awaking apparently- laughs, waving her hands as if to calm the young child. "I liked her for a while but thought she didn't feel the same. Until the summoning, where I saw my name on the list. We talked it out, and I was hoping to take her on a first date, you know?"

"You lie!" Damian races down to point his sword at Danny, looking just as wild as a cornered animal about to fight for its life. "Why would the strongest being in the multiverse live on the streets?!"

"Well....it's not like they pay to rule the dead....I had a rough patch, but Cass helped me get back on my feet." Danny muttered, slightly embarrassed. Then she squits at Damian. "Wait, are you a al Ghul?"

Damian breaks into a sweat as Danny gasps, "You are! You're family owes me so much money in backed up taxes for the healing pool! We cut off contamination maintenance because Ra's refused to pay years ago! Kid, do you know I can get into contact with your family member about the Lazarus pit?"

Damian screamed again, turned around, and ran, leaving a stunned Alfred, Tim and Danny. "Guess not. Anyway, sorry to be a bother Mr. Alfred, I'll come back when Cass can go out. Bye!"

A familiar portal rips under Danny as she falls through with a cheerful wave. Alfred and Tim watch it close in a moment before Tim turns to the butler. "Did I inhale too many polishing chemicals? Am I hallucinating?"

"No, my dear boy, I saw everything as well."

"Oh, good. " Tim pauses. " One of us needs to speak to Damian and Cass."

Alfred closes the door slowly. "I'll find Master Damian. You go for Miss Cassandra and Master Tim?"

"Hmm?"

"The next time, Mister Conner sends you a fun trend to try. Don't."

"Yeah, that's fair."

[tealvenetianmask]

I was confused at first about why the writers chose "infester demon" as Rolando's identity, rather than something like "possessor" or . . . idk . . . anything else.

So let's see. An infestation takes over a place and often destroys it (think about termites in a house or an invasive species in a forest or a body of water).

Rolando's specialty is not just taking over his victims' bodies to use them. He moves in, explores all the dark crevices of their minds, and takes over all of it.

It starts small . . .

And quickly goes out of control.

Digging deeply into memories for ammunition, removing the host's connection with their present reality.

Rolando is portrayed as horrifically and physically invasive.

He goes right through Blitz, knocking him violently to the ground, and once in his mind, ties him up, licks his neck, holds his eyes open . . .

He brings forward the worst memories Blitz has and makes sure they consume him so that Blitz becomes completely engulfed and loses control of his mind and body. The possession is horrifying because Blitz's movement and fighting style change completely. The infester has moved in and completely overtaken the previous inhabitant.

Rolando infests his victims. And the way to get him out? Make the environment inhospitable to him (while thankfully the other inhabitant, Blitz, "can handle it."). Like putting down poison around the foundations of a house to get rid of termites.

It's an apt metaphor too: trauma can be like an infestation.

The adverse experiences come in and change neural pathways in our brains, intertwining themselves with our very ways of experiencing the world, with our senses of self.

We can fight trauma with all sorts of things, and it varies wildly person to person. In this situation for Blitz, a supportive friend who's able to tell him the reasons why he's so valuable to her, who's willing to physically beat the infester out of him. Who can help him build new, stronger connections in his brain, memories that strengthen him rather than break him down.

But while Rolando seems to be gone, Blitz's trauma isn't. Like many real infestations, it lurks in the shadows, weakened but ready to try again to take over when it gets another opportunity.

[ineffable-suffering]

Why Aziraphale is an unreliable narrator

Part 1: The Story of Job

I'm absolutely not the first one to talk about this on here and I probably shan't be the last either. Alas, here's my take on why all of the minisodes in Season 2 should be enjoyed with great care – and taken with a grain of angelic salt.

I'm gonna split this into 3 parts, aka the three minisodes we are shown, since I tend to get a bit waffley in my posts and want to still be able to include all the little details. Once I've written them, I'll link Part 2 & Part 3 here as well!

Alright, let's get into it under the cut of doom.

Episode 2 opens with the Story of Job. Right off the bat, I noticed that it sort of looks like an old film playing. At first I didn't read that much into it, but once we see the cut-away to Aziraphale at the bookshop, currently reading that part of the Bible (presumably), I immediately thought: "Oh! It's because it's his memory. He's remembering how it went down and therefore it plays like a figurative film in his head."

This, I then came to realize, is a very crucial difference to all the flashbacks of S1, which were exclusively told and narrated by God. May her intensions be as ineffable as they are: She did tell us all of these stories from an objective outsider's point of view. Now, however, it's Aziraphale who's re-telling those stories to us from memory.

And if there's one thing that's for certain, it's that a memory is something entirely different to an objective narration of a story. Just think about how you yourself remember things. Especially things that happened years, maybe even decades (or, in an angel's case, millenia) ago. What is it, that you really remember? Can you know for sure, that a conversation was held with those exact words? Are you 100% certain that the clothes someone wore weren't different? Had it really been snowing or would that make very little sense given what you're remembering happened in May? And did it even happen in May? Or does that just happen to be your favourite month, the current weather, your preferred style of clothing and what it was that you would imagine someone would have said to you?

What I'm trying to say is: The further away it is that something happened, the more your brain has to fill in the gaps. This is why, for example, your parents will remember the family summer holiday entirely different when you ask them about it 20 years later.

"No, it was Sarah who puked on the car ride home!" "Nonsense, Sarah never puked as a child. Bobby had that gone-off pizza, he's the one that was sick the whole ride long!"

We've all been there. Bobby made it out alive. Don't buy gas station pizza.

Alright, back to the plot: Naturally, Aziraphale is not actually human, so it is a pure assumption on my part that the way his memory works is similar to ours. However, the whole topic of "memory" is actually quite a recurring one on Good Omens.

Crowley seems to have lost his in the Fall, yet somehow managed to get most of it back. Not all of it, though, he clearly has some major gaps ("You used to jump on me back, little monkey in the waistcoat!"). Beelzebub helps Gabriel store all his memories in their little fly container before they get wiped entirely too, by the Metatron and/or Saraqael. Crowley and Aziraphale (and possibly Jimbriel) perform a miracle together that makes everyone in Heaven and Hell forget who Garbiel is or what he looks like. And we know that the Book of Life apparently has the ability to completely erase someone from existence – ergo also erasing them from everyone's memory and making it is as though the person had never been in them at all.

So, clearly, angels and demons being able to remember, forget, reconstruct and, if you're the Metadork, wipe memories, is very much canon. Apart from that very last one, it does make them quite human-like in a way. We too can forget or (wrongfully and incompletely) reconstruct memories, due to things like trauma, illness or simply a lot of time having passed.

So, just like Crowley remembers going into battle but doesn't remember Furfur being there, or just like Jimbriel has entierly forgotten who he is but still remembers the tune and lyrics to Buddy Holly's song Everyday, and just like archangel Michael was miraculously made to forget Gabriel and yet says "Don't I know you?" when seeing him again – just like that, Aziraphale's memories of the story of Job, the story of wee Morag and the story of the magic show in 1941, might not actually be the whole truth.

So, time to look at where the furniture isn't.

Now, it could very well be that the costume designers of S2 thought: "Fuck it, let's go crazy" – but given that this show has a track record of meticulously making sure to stick to accurate and cohesive character design, doesn't it strike you as odd that Crowley would go from this look at the Flood in Mesopotamia, 3004 BC:

... to the (very iconic, don't get me wrong) Bildad the Shuhuite drip in 2500 BC:

... back to this at the crucifixion of Jesus Christ in 33 AD:

I mean ... I mean– come on, that seems like a bit of a far stretch, even for someone as enthusiastically experimental with fashion as Crowley.

And it's not just that: Where did the sunglasses come from, all of a sudden? And why do they look like some sort of obscure, ancient optometrist's device? It's a known historical fact that the Romans were the ones to have invented sunglasses, somewhere around 50-ish AD. Which actually matches perfectly with when Crowley and Aziraphale meet again in Rome 8 years after the crucifixion (51 AD).

So, where do the weird spectacles come from, over 2000 years too early? Maybe from Aziraphale's brain filling in some gaps? Hasn't Crowley always worn those ridiculous sunglasses? Was it Rome? Or Golgotha? Wessex? Oh, blimey, what does it matter!

And it's not just Crowley: Aziraphale's own clothes, as well as the other angels', seem to be very different from the rather plain linen we see him wear before and after the story of Job.

They're laced with golden embroidery along the neckline and sleeves. The remind almost of the clothes angels are depicted wearing in biblical and historical drawings. Ornate and decadent. Not at all like we see Aziraphale in the other flashbacks of S1.

Even Bildad the Shuhite's hair within the minisode keeps changing, going from all pouffy and voluminous to rather deflated and straight-looking:

The costume department either had to fix up two seperate wigs or manually straighten out the volume of the one again to give it a more sleek look. I'm not a professional in this field, but if there's anything I've learned from watching hours of behind-the-scenes material of movies and shows, it's that very little about costume, character, prop and set design is purely coincidental.

You know what it could be, though? An accurate representation of how memories aren't linear, historically correct and objective representations of a certain event, but rather an ever-changing, jumbled mess of impressions, emotions and exaggerations.

More specifically: Aziraphale's impression, emotions and exaggerations.

Like "remembering" Crowley with sunglasses because he's been wearing them for so long.

Like "remembering" himself wearing more luxurious, angelic clothes because that's how he thinks of the difference between Heaven and Hell.

Like "remembering" the permit as a ridiculously long scroll that folded out over an entire valley.

Like "remembering" Job's children to be weirdly sassy in an almost Aziraphale-esque way (Enon: "Don't be silly!") for the fact that Job would have probably taught them to be more humble and obedient in the presence of a literal angel.

Like "remembering" eating an entire fucking Ox after having just one bite of it while Crowley watched him lustfully, sipping on his wine.

Like "remembering" Crowley calling him 'angel', despite them having barely known each other back then.

There's a reason why the flashbacks in S2 seem so much more alive, quirky and, at many points, confusing and all over the place. Because they're not objective stories being told by a third party. They're Aziraphale's. So much of his own thoughts and feelings at the time get projected onto them because that's simply how memory works!

It's subjective. It's unrealiable.

It's not that I'm calling Aziraphale a liar. He's no more a liar than your parents are, mixing up Sarah and Bobby. Or you, remembering snow instead of sunshine. Memories aren't lies. They can simply be faulty, focus on things that you thought were more important and leaving out or changing things that weren't, to you.

The real challenge in all of this, is trying to filter through Aziraphale's stories to see what it actually is they're telling us. Where it is that the furniture isn't. And I think in this case, that's 6 main things (eff you, God, I know you like sevens, but I don't care):

God and Satan (still) talk to each other We see that Aziraphale is quite surprised when Muriel mentions that the whole Job thing is God's bet with Satan. But clearly, despite having made him and the rest fall, God still converses with Her number one traitor about whether or not the humans simply love Her because she gives them nice things or because they truly believe in Her.

God and Satan (and Heaven and Hell) can and do collaborate with each other when they feel like it So much for choosing sides, huh? Truthfully, this is not the first time this is shown to us, but still. It's another piece of evidence on the growing pile.

Aziraphale understands the World and humans way better than any of the other angels "Well, you see ... Citis is 58 ..."

Aziraphale, despite having troubles voicing it, absolutely disagrees and even condemns God's plan of destroying Job's children (and goats and camels and––)

Aziraphale is willing to lie and thwart the will of God Also not the first time we're being shown this but again, piiiile of evidence.

Angels don't automatically Fall simply by doing the above To me, this is one of the most important take aways. It's already hinted in S1 as well that 'Falling' seems to have been a one time even back when the first war broke out in Heaven. And I actually believe that ever since then, no other angels have Fallen again. Aziraphale is the best example for this. He has gone against God's plan numerous times and even lied to her very face (voice?) about it. And yet, nothing ever happened to him. Why exactly that is the case remains a topic for another meta (that I might or might not be working on already, teehee).

Alright, that concludes this first look at the Job minisode! If there's anything I missed, feel free to share it with me. I'll try and add Part 2 (the story of wee Morag) and Part 3 (the magic show of 1941) soon.

Update: Part 2 and Part 3 have officially been written, you can find it them right here:

Part 2: The Story of wee Morag

Part 3: The Story of the Magic Show in 1941

Hugs and kisses, (God)!

[shadow4-1]

(Part 2 of this post.)

After letting Soap set everything up, on his next leave of absence, Ghost finally gets to meet the plus size escort he's been having fantasies about.

However, she's only interested in laying down some ground rules.

-

To show he was serious, for their first meeting she made Ghost rent out the smoking section of a privately owned Café. It's a quaint little joint; part bookstore, part coffee shop. Cost him less than two hundred quid for the whole hour. Ghost likes the privacy and the better service - his coffee cup hasn't gone unfilled. He wonders why he's never thought of doing it before. Plus, he can have a fag without someone bothering him about the smell. The booth is in the back of the store, so leaving his face completely uncovered doesn't feel nearly as uncomfortable either.

For anyone else the mask stays on. Well, at least some form of mask. Nowadays, when deep in public territory, he sticks to a surgical mask. Still attracts some curious gazes, but after the new-age plague passed he's been left well enough alone.

Besides, the bird's a civilian through and through. She's probably used to white collar Johns with soft hands and faces. He's decidedly the opposite and doesn't want to scare her off. At a time like this he knows hiding his face would make him seem less trustworthy. She should at least be allowed to see what she's working with. He knows he's not wholly unattractive, but if compared to Soap, well he wouldn't blame her for sticking up her nose. Hell, it'd be no skin off his back.

He's early as per usual. Doesn't want to keep her waiting on him. Time is money and all that. The coffee shop staff seemed relieved at the lack of customers. Behind him, he can hear one of the servers taking an order from a customer. That's when he hears a sound that makes his ears prick up.

The sound of heels against the tile.

Subconsciously, he straightens himself. Consciously, he makes no move to attempt to preen or better his appearance in any way. What she sees is what she gets and vice versa. That's what this meeting is for anyway. It's a time to lay it all on the table.

"Hello."

Her voice is soft and sweet. He releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding. When he looks up he's taken off guard by the quality of her facial features. In Johnny's pictures she looked average. But now, he realizes that perhaps the flash really dulled down her beautiful features - mainly her delicious looking lips. He swallows hard at the thought of his cock maybe getting inside that blowjob perfect mouth.

"You must be Simon."

She places down a mid-size purse on the booth seat across from him. She's dressed in business casual - a white button up and some form fitting slacks. Her makeup is subdued, her hair lightly styled. She looks completely natural. Ghost finds she's checking off all the boxes he didn't even realize he had.

She offers her hand and he shakes it. Her nails aren't painted but have a natural sheen and length. And while her palms are soft, her grip is sturdy. It's obvious that she knows how to uphold herself professionally. He already starts to feel good about this impending arrangement.

She introduces herself as a "Miss Care". It's a fake name designed to give her a simple, yet recognizable trait. He supposes her self-chosen moniker isn't far off from a callsign. Not that she'd have any idea what that even is.

"S' a pleasure." He bows his head at her in respect.

He doesn't miss the way she blushes for a second before taking the seat across from him. She opens her mouth to say something, but is rudely interrupted by a server placing a menu down in front of her. At least, he finds it quite rude. She just beams at the server and politely declines the menu. She orders a hot Chai latte with a slice of banana bread. She's obviously a regular at this place. It makes sense she'd chose it as a meeting spot.

The server scurries off, and for a second both he and her take each other in. He admires the softness of her upper body, the curvature of her breasts that are cradled lovingly by her brassiere. She seems to be reading his face, for what he can't say. Whatever she finds she seems to like based on her more confident smile.

"Johnny wasn't lying when he said you're built like a brick shithouse." She giggles.

Despite himself, Ghost can't help the flood of heat to his face. He could throttle that boy. He likes her laugh more than enough to quell that urge though. He finds himself already admiring her confidence to even speak to him like that. He knows he's intimidating.

"If you don't mind me asking," She offers before pausing. He looks at her expectanly, silently urging her to go on. "What are you looking for exactly? Not to be rude but, I'm a little shocked someone as handsome as you would be interested in my services."

A long beat of silence fills the air. It's a bit awkward but Ghost needs a second to think of his response. Not only is he caught off guard by her admonition, but how could he tell this girl he can't find it within himself to build relationship anymore, much less with a woman? Another beat of silence passes and she offers him a sheepish smile.

"Sorry. I-"

"Don't have time for a bird. Jus' looking fer a distraction." He admits, cutting her off. "Johnny talked a big game 'bout ya. Figured I'd give you a shot."

She stutters out a chuckle. His words have caught her off guard. He knows he sounds full of himself. He is full of himself. Her admitting she thinks he's attractive helps alot with his ego.

"Well, has he told you anything about my services other than I'm good at what I do?"

"No."

She goes into her purse and pulls out a semi-thick docket of paper. The headline on top let's him know exactly what it is.

"A rental agreement?" He muses.

"Mhm. I'm sure you're aware my services aren't exactly...legal on their own. So, just to stay on the right side of the law, I make sure my contract states you're renting my villa for the weekends you decide to visit." She says, flipping through the papers. "Besides, you are renting out my villa. It'll be just me and you."

He admires her business plan. A contract like that keeps her from getting scammed, and it has the added benefit of running off losers. Normally, if a John decided not to pay her for her "services" she'd be shit out of luck. This way, she'd be legally able to receive his funds under the guise of being just a landlord.

"Smart."

"Thank you."

She pulls out a pen, uncaps it, then marks on certain lines throughout the packet. She then offers him the pen.

"Wait, sorry."

He places the pen down.

"What experience are you interested in having?"

Ghost just stares at her. He doesn't really understand her question.

"Are you looking for the full girlfriend experience? Or something else?" She asks.

The server comes back with her tea and snack. She thanks them with a bright, beautiful smile Ghost wishes was directed his way. She tries to go for a sip of her hot drink but it's too hot. She licks the foam off her lips with a crinkled nose. Ghost can't help the way his lips quirk up in the corners at the sight.

"Thought that's all you offered." He admits.

"Oh, no, not at all. I offer quite a few services. All vanilla of course." She says as she goes for a piece of banana bread. "The girlfriend experience is the most popular but I can also play the part of a wife, step-sister, or mommy. Most of my clients like to start off our first session with the best friend experience. Just so we can to get used to each other without any weird tension."

Ghost is a bit taken by her straightforwardness. He knew she'd be open and honest, but hearing her talk about what role she'd be willing to play in his sex life makes him swallow hard. He doesn't know what character he wants her to play either. Every fantasy but "mommy" sounds terribly appealing. The "bestfriend" approach does sound like a good place to start. He wants sex, needs sex, but he also knows he himself might not feel the most comfortable to start with it right away.

"Friends first."

She finally gives him that stunning smile. It falters after a moment and she gives him a bit of an apologetic look.

"One last thing before we sign. We've got to go over our boundaries." She says. This time she's finally able to drink her tea. She swallows down the liquid and places it on the table. "What are some of the things you aren't comfortable with me doing."

There's another long beat of silence as Ghost thinks. He really can't think of a damn thing he wouldn't want this fuckable, pretty girl to do for him. He keeps thinking before realizing maybe he's wrong.

"Nothin' anal. N' no kissin'."

She seems confused.

"No kissing? On the mouth or all over?"

He was only thinking about the mouth. Not that he doesn't want to tongue fuck her mouth, but he thinks a degree of separation would be good to start with. The idea that she'd be willing to kiss him other places, well...the it excites him more than it should.

"Just the mouth."

"Okay." She nods. "No anal play and no kissing on the mouth."

She snacks for another moment.

"And you, Love?" He asks.

"Ooh, I like it when you call me that." She blushes again, wiping crumbs off her bottom lip with a napkin.

Ghosts lips quirk up again. He's starting to really like her attitude and sense of humor. And but of course he would. Johnny recommended her.

"Well, my boundaries are as follows:" She begins, her voice even and measured as if she's given this spiel more than enough times. "No choking, no leaving bruises - that includes hickies, no anal without lube or having told me beforehand, and no slurs or degrading names."

Ghost finds her list a little long but he understands it. He feels a bit of righteous fire in his belly at the thought of her Johns pushing her to the point of even having to make those discretions.

"Understood." He nods.

She smiles up at him and then opens the packet again. She points to the already marked lines and has him sign. As he goes along she tells him about each page of the docket. Once everything is signed she hands him a small business card.

"That's the amount for our first session. Please wire the funds to the account listed on the bottom before Friday night at the latest." She says. "If you don't, I won't be able to get everything ready for Saturday."

He nods, taking in the information on the card. Her prices would be exorbitant for a normal man, but Ghost is no normal man. He makes more than enough money to see her every weekend if he wanted to.

"Please don't be late." She taps the section of the card with the time listed. "And make sure you bring a copy of your up to date physical."

Ghost reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out two sheets of paper stapled together. She mulls over the document before grinning at him.

"Well, well, look at you. Already prepared. I think you and I are going to get along just fine." She flirts. She bats her lashes at him and it takes every fiber of his being not to reach over the table and shove his tongue down her throat.

With that she continues to snack on her drink and bread. She offers no more conversation until she's done. Ghost is more than okay with that. He's content to watch her body. He finds he really likes the way her breasts shift with her every breath.

"I'm sure you don't like surprises, so I'll give you an idea on how I schedule my visits. If you want to change anything up let me know." She says. "I'm flexible."

The flirt is not lost on Ghost. He shifts in his seat, feeling heat trickle into his cock. This girl wants to play with him, test his resolve. He hates that it's already cracking.

"When you arrive I'll greet you at the door and bring you inside. I always like to have a meal waiting for you. Afterwards, we can watch TV on the couch together or play some video games? Or I can read to you, if you'd like." She offers. "If you want, I can give you a massage. Or we can always call it a night if you get sleepy. I'll show you my room."

Her excitement is palpable, almost conspiratorial. She sounds like a girl going over her plans for her first sleepover. He supposes she's not far off. It would be their first sleepover. It would also be his first sleepover. He's never had one.

Her excitement is replaced with a nervous smile. It takes Ghost a second to realize why. He didn't realize his facial expression had changed into something a bit more pointed. He curses himself internally, tries to soften his gaze, but the damage has been done.

"If you want to have sex at any time, just say so. The first time around, I usually like for us to get a shower together." She hums. "It'll give me a chance to give you a little onceover before we start. Also, it's just really great foreplay."

While he adores the idea of a sudsy fuck in the shower he also feels like a fool. He's so used to his face being covered he's unused to controlling his facial features. He's used to letting his emotions show because no one can see. He realizes that he needs to be more careful from now on.

"We'll play it by ear." He mutters, his own mood soured. For her credit she doesn't seem to take it to heart.

"Well, no matter what we get into on Saturday I just want to let you know I'm excited." She smiles. "It's been so nice to meet you, Simon."

She tucks the paper docket and the pen back into her purse. She then cleans up her plates and napkins. Just before she readies herself to stand she looks up at him with her pretty little eyes.

"Can I kiss you goodbye on the cheek?"

Her request takes him off guard. He hasn't paid for anything yet. His heart thumps.

"Yeah."

She then stands and leans over the table. Her blouse isn't lowcut but she has enough tits to fill it out. When she leans over he has to stop himself from trying to grope them.

She kisses him sweetly. It's barely a brush of her lips against the rough skin of his cheek. His cock twitches to its full length in his trousers. If he was any farther gone he'd fuck her right there over the dishes.

She smiles down at him, lashes fluttering, purse in hand. She gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"See you Saturday."

[chocolateremus]

Secret admirer.

Pairings: Remus x Fem!reader

Warnings: Weirdo reader, sh, scars. Slow burn but it's worth it please trust me ☹️💔

Summary ! Remus found himself slowly falling inlove with you, but doesn't have the courage to tell you the reason he has so many scars, but what happens when he sees you do too?

Word count: 5.92k words

Masterlist

Early morning, the cold air hit, the smell of fresh trees and rain hits so perfectly, he saw the same girl from yesterday spoke to Lily. You. Remus stood several feet away, pretending to be doing something else as he watched Lily and the strange girl speak. He continued to feign interest in a nearby tree as he watched them out of the corner of his eye, listening to their conversation.

Every time he looks toward your way, he feels his heart skipping a beat. Always. Remus's attention was brought away from the nearby girls as he heard James and Sirius's voices carry over from a short distance away. He turned his head, watching as James and Sirius argued with each other, obviously challenging each other on something that Remus couldn't hear. After a moment, he turned back, only to see that Lily and the girl were gone now.

Remus stared at the empty spot where the girls had been standing moments ago, feeling a strange sense of emptiness now that they were gone. He had a lingering suspicion that he was forgetting something, but couldn't quite place what. He ran a hand through his messy hair before looking back down at his book, trying to focus on the words on the pages, but he couldn't help but remain distracted, his heart still feeling weird and a slight ache in his chest.

Remus found himself drawn to the sight of this mysterious girl. Every time he sees you, your sweet shy smile, the way you elegantly carried herself. He often found himself wondering how he had never noticed you before. Every morning, he would wake up early, just to catch a glimpse of you. Today, he found you in the common room, having tea with Mary. He made his way over to them, under the guise of wanting to get some tea.

Remus couldn't help but smile as he heard your laughter, your soft, melodious giggles carrying themselves through the air. The smell of your sweet scent filled his nose as he got closer and closer to the pair. His heart rate slowly picked up slightly as he walked over, wanting to be closer to you.

"Oh- Hi Remus!" Mary greeted him, Remus snapped out of his own thoughts as he heard Mary's voice, realizing that he was now standing in front of you two, tea completely forgotten.

"Hi Mary. How are you?"

His eyes darted to the mysterious girl, noticing the way your face lit up when you saw him, your sweet smile making his heart flutter in his chest.

"We're doing great. Tea?" Mary asked, the mysterious girl has an odd sense of style, something you would see outside of Hogwarts, lots of beads, bracelets or charms on your wrist, necklaces, color mix.

Remus nodded, his eyes remaining fixed on the mysterious girl. He didn't know why, but he couldn't help but be drawn to you. He watched the way you fiddled with the bracelet charms on her wrist, all while watching the light play in your eyes with the smile on your face.

"Yeah, some tea would be great. Thanks, Mary."

"It's mountain tea, Lyn got it from her trip to Athens." Mary said, Remus smiled at the mention of the mysterious girl's name, Lyn. It was a pretty name that seemed to fit you so well. You muttered a hi, Remus saw that you were shy, and soft-spoken too. Anyone could tell from the first look, giving a sense of comfort for some reason.

He watched the way your eyes darted to the tea, a soft, shy smile on your lips, but there was something else, something that drew him to you even more.

"Hey ho Moony!" A slap on Remus back made him spit the drink out slightly. Remus's eyes widened in surprise as he felt James's hand slap against his back, the sudden action causing him to spit out some of the tea.

"Prongs, what the hell was that for?"

"Sorry, we just pranked Snivellus,and it was totally the best prank ever." James said, before plopping down next to Remus, so did Sirius.

"Oh, really? What did you do this time?"

He asked, before noticing Sirius sitting down next to him, the two of them now effectively sandwiching him between them.

"It's a secret!" Sirius said, before snatching the tea from Remus hand and chugging it. Remus scowled as Sirius snatched the tea from his hand, the last drop of his tea now being quickly siphoned up by his friend.

"Hey! That was my tea, you arsehole."

"no worries yea? Sweet Lynnie has more yes?"

Remus rolled his eyes again, before looking over to 'Sweet Lynnie' as Sirius called you, noting the way the nickname seemed to cause your pale cheeks to flush with a slight blush.

"Get me more would ya darling?"

Remus rolled his eyes at Sirius's request, knowing that his friend could easily get tea himself instead of having the girl do it for him. He looked over at you, watching as your cheeks flushed a little more with a soft blush when you were called 'darling.' Remus continued to watch the girl as you hesitantly agreed to get more tea for Sirius. He noticed the way you fidgeted with a bracelet on your wrist as you pushed yourself up out of the chair, the action drawing Remus's attention again to the several charms, beads, and jeweled bangles that adorned your delicate wrists.

Remus couldn't help but notice the bandages that peeked out from beneath the bangles on her wrists. He wondered, somewhat concerned, about what type of injury she might have that would require bandages.

He found himself watching the way she moved and carried herself, the grace and elegance in her every action. Remus found his eyes constantly drawn to her, like a moth to a flame.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𐙚 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It's been a while since, Remus tried to talk to you but never had the big courage to, always chicken out at the last moment. Well. Until now.

The picnic party held by Lily was fun, really. Near the lake, Remus said James and Sirius competing to see who could swim the farthest. Remus watched as James and Sirius competed with each other in the lake, their friendly competition putting a smile on his face. But his focus was soon drawn away from them, towards the tree line, when he noticed you. Seated on a swing, idly swinging back and forth, looking so isolated and lonely. He couldn't explain why, but the sight of you alone on the swing, all by yourself, tugged at something in his chest.

Remus watched you on the swing from afar for a few more moments, feeling the odd aching feeling in his chest grow stronger. His eyes lingered on your lonely and isolated form by the tree line, before slowly finding the courage to walk closer to you. His heart rate becoming increasingly faster with every step. As he approached the swing where you sat, he couldn't help but notice every little detail about you, the way you looked, your hair, your eyes, the way you held yourself, everything. Finally, he came to a stop right next to the swing, a small distance between the two of you.

Remus hesitated for a moment, gathering up the confidence to speak to you, before finally breaking the silence that hung between the two of you.

"Erm... mind if I..."

He motioned towards the vacant swing next to you as you nodded. Remus gave you a small smile in response and muttered a soft 'thanks' before carefully sitting down on the vacant swing next to you. The two of you sat there together, a brief moment of awkward silence between you, before Remus opened his mouth to speak once more.

"So... why are you all alone over here?"

"Oh I just like being alone.. y'know?" Remus nodded a little bit in understanding, his eyes continuing to dart around your form, not able to help himself from noticing your appearance. He found your answer a bit strange, but he didn't comment on it further.

"Y-Yeah, I get that. Nothing wrong with a little peace and quiet... although, being alone at parties can kind of, y'know, suck sometimes."

A brief moment of silence fell again as Remus struggled to find something else to say, wanting to continue the conversation. He searched his mind for something, anything, to fill the silence that settled over the two of you, but nothing came to mind. So, he ended up just staring at you for a moment, studying your features and looking at how the soft light of the sun played across your face.

"Hey how'd you get so many scars..? Your face.." *Remus's head snapped up as you suddenly spoke, the question slightly catching him off guard. He automatically reached up to his face, gently tracing a finger along a few of the scars that marked his cheek, before letting his hand fall away once more.*

"Ah, these? It's... kind of a long story, actually." Remus's head snapped up as you suddenly spoke, the question slightly catching him off guard. He automatically reached up to his face, gently tracing a finger along a few of the scars that marked his cheek, before letting his hand fall away once more. Remus mentally cursed to himself slightly as he tried to think of what exactly to say. The truth was definitely not an option. You were a normal student, someone who clearly knew nothing of the magical world, let alone a werewolf. He couldn't exactly just say 'oh, you know, lycanthropy.'

So, he tried to think of an excuse, a reason for the scars on his face other than the truth. But unfortunately, it wasn't coming to him.

"Ah, these? It's... kind of a long story, actually."

Remus's eyebrows furrowed as he noticed the glimpse of white once again peeking out from under your bracelets. That same aching, fluttery feeling in his chest returned, stronger than before as it ached at the thought that you might be hurt, that something was wrong. Without thinking much, he spoke before he could stop himself.

"Hey, erm... those bandages-" He gestured to your wrist. "Are you... okay?"

"Uhh.. yea."

Remus studied your face closely as you spoke, not quite believing you. He couldn't explain why, he just felt his protective, over-worried nature taking over. He couldn't bring himself to look away from the bandages on your wrist, the faint ache in his chest refusing to go away.

"You sure? I mean... you're wearing bandages for a reason..."

"Yea.. it's just I'm really clumsy. I have bruises here and there."

Remus didn't seem fully convinced by your answer, his eyes still trained on the bracelets around your wrist. He noted the way your fingers instinctively fiddled with them, as if trying to conceal something.

"You sure it's just from being clumsy...? Seems a little excessive just for some bruises..."

"No .. this one I fell off my bike around some branches." Remus watched you closely, his heart rate picking up a bit at your statement. Something was off; he could tell that there was something more to the story than you were letting on. He wanted to press further, to ask more questions, but he held himself back, not wanting to pry too much.

"And what about the other one? The one on your other wrist...?"

"same thing.. I was holding onto my bike handles."

Remus studied your face, his eyebrows furrowing once more. He wasn't quite sure if he believed what you were saying, the way you fidgeted with the bracelets around your wrists setting off alarm bells in his head. He decided to press a little further, wanting to get to the bottom of the mystery.

"And how often does this happen...? You falling off your bike and ending up with bandages on your wrists...?"

"Just this once.. my brakes broken and I didn't notice."

Remus nodded slightly, digesting the information. He still had a lingering suspicion that there was more to the story than you were letting on, but he didn't want to seem too pushy or nosy. He let the silence fall between the two of you as he continued to watch you, studying the way you fidgeted with the bangles on your wrists and the way the sunlight played across your face. Purple cardigan, mesh skirt over jeans, hair charms, sun symbol necklace and tons of charms, bangles, beads and metals on your wrist, nothing about you looked normal. Rather odd.

Remus let his eyes roam over your form, taking in every little detail about you. He found himself slightly fascinated by you, the way you looked so different from all other girls at Hogwarts, with your own unique, and slightly strange, style. His mind was filled with so many questions. Who are you? Where are you from? Why do you look like this, act like this? Why does his heart always flutter whenever he's near you?

"Do you think I'm weird?" Remus blinked slightly in surprise at your question, his thoughts being interrupted by the suddenness of your words. He looked at you, studying your face, noticing the insecure, hesitant look you had. He felt his heartstrings tug at the sight, something inside him wanting to reassure you.

"No, not weird... just... different." He answered honestly, a small smile on his lips.

"...Are you different too?"

Remus paused at your question, his eyes darting away as he considered his answer. In some ways, he was different. He knew that much. His condition made sure of that. He was a ticking time bomb, cursed to transform into a mindless beast every full moon, unable to control himself. He looked back at you, his eyes meeting yours, a small smile on his lips.

"Yeah... I guess you could say I'm different too."

"Do you like being different?" Remus let a moment of silence fall again as he considered your question. It was something he had thought about before, whether he liked being different or not. Being different was what set him apart from others, made him unique.

But at the same time, it also made him an outsider, an outcast. Someone who didn't quite fit in.

He looked back at you, his eyes locking onto yours, before he answered.

"Sometimes. But it can also be lonely."

"But we can be weird together right?"

Remus couldn't help but let out a soft, light laugh at your comment. He felt his heart flutter a bit in his chest again, the small, almost vulnerable, smile on his lips growing wider in response to your words. The suggestion that the two of you could be different and weird together, that he wasn't alone in his loneliness, filled him with a strange, comforting warmth.

"Yeah.. I think I'd like that."

˚₊‧꒰ა 𐙚 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Over the weeks Remus felt like he couldn't ever think he could like you more. You were fun, shy, soft-spoken and so lovable, but him disappearing for about 3 days and coming back with scars wasn't really the best thing to do, it gravelly concerned you. Sitting in the common room, Remus couldn't help but feel your stares on his scars.He could sense the curiosity and concern in your gaze, as you studied the new scars that adorned his face. He fidgeted uncomfortably under your stare, his hands instinctively coming up to cover the scars, as if he was trying to hide them from your eyes. He didn't want you to see him like this, to see the evidence of his curse.

Remus let out a small sigh of relief as you finally looked away, the weight of your gaze lifting from him. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness at the sight of you avoiding his eyes, though. He found himself wanting your eyes on him again, yearning for that familiar sense of warmth and comfort that your gaze provided. But he knew that he shouldn't keep this up, knew that he couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to. Remus's eyes couldn't help but be drawn to the new bandage wrapped around your wrist again, peeking out from underneath the bangles and charms that adorned it. He found himself feeling a pang of worry and concern at the sight, the nagging thought that there was more to your story than you were letting on, still lingering in his mind. He had to resist the urge to reach out and ask what had happened, to gently pull back the layers of metal and beads that hid the mystery beneath.

The sound of your bracelets clinging together as you flipped the page of the book on your lap filled the otherwise silent room, creating a light, almost melodic sound. Remus, seated on the sofa next to you, found himself unable to focus on the book in his hands, his mind too distracted by your presence next to him. He snuck a glance at you out of the corner of his eye, studying your face, noting the way the light played off your features, before quickly looking away again. Remus watched as you stood up, closed your book, and headed towards the stairs to your dorm. A small pang of disappointment filled him at the thought of you leaving, not wanting you to leave just yet. He found himself wanting to keep you there, talking with him for just a bit longer.

"Night, sweetheart." He said in a soft voice, his eyes following your movements as you walked away. The room was quiet and still, the late hour leaving most students sound asleep in their dorm rooms. However, Remus found himself wide awake, his mind still in turmoil.

A small part of him yearned to be there, to hold you close and whisper silly words into your ear, to watch over you as you slept. But he knew he couldn't, no matter how badly he wanted to.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𐙚 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The days continued as the heat and humidity of summer slowly started setting in. Remus found himself often in a state of sweat and discomfort, the heat not exactly helping his restlessness at night.

His eyes couldn't help but be drawn to your wrists, where the bandages around them peeked out from underneath the bangles and bracelets you still wore. The nagging feeling that there was more to the mystery of your wrist continued to linger in his mind.

Remus couldn't help but notice the way you were dressed. Weird clothing combos with all your jewelry and bracelets made for an endearing combination, not to mention the adorable way you held the popsicle up to his lips, offering him a taste of it. A small smile tugged at his lips at the sight, and he couldn't help but feel his heart flutter at the gesture.

"Trying to cool me down, princess?"

"It's really hot. Give it a taste! It's strawberry."

Remus chuckled softly, amused at your insistence that he try it. He leaned in and took a small bite of the popsicle, the sweet and tangy taste of strawberry hitting his tongue. He let out a small satisfied sigh, feeling the coolness of the treat bring a small relief from the heat.

"Mmm, it's good. Thanks, sweetheart."

Remus could feel his heart flutter in his chest as he watched you sucking on the popsicle, your stained lips and tongue making him feel a faint sense of jealousy. He tried to ignore it, telling himself it was silly, but he couldn't help it. The sight of you with your lips stained red and the popsicle stick in your hand was making his heart race.

His eyes still lingering on your lips, silently wishing he was the one you were sucking on instead.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𐙚 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"Remus..."

Walking out of hogsmeade to Hogwarts was always a long way, it was even harder with the heat. Remus let out a soft sigh as he felt the heat press down on him once again. Sweat dripped down his forehead, causing his shirt to stick to his skin. He looked at you as you spoke, a hint of concern in his eyes.

"Yeah, princess?"

"M'legs are tired."

Remus chuckled softly at your declaration, a gentle smile forming on his lips at your admission. He couldn't help but find your slightly whinny tone slightly adorable, a small part of him finding it endearing.

"Tired already? We're only halfway there, sweetheart."

Remus couldn't help but let out another chuckle as he saw the way you were standing, your legs bent and a slightly pleading look in your eyes. He knew you were tired, the heat and the long walk back to Hogwarts taking its toll on you.

He stopped walking for a moment, studying your form, a mixture of fondness and slight amusement in his eyes.

"Come here, princess." Remus held out his hand, gesturing for you to come closer. He had a small smirk on his lips, his eyes scanning your form, taking in the sight of you, tired and slightly whinny.

"C'mere. Hop up on my back."

You went over to him like a puppy before jumping on top on his back, your arm laid out to his neck, Remus wrapped his arms underneath your legs, securing you on his back as you jumped up on him. A small smile tugged at his lips as he felt your hand around his neck, the soft bandages on your wrist brushing against his skin and reminding him of their presence.

He started walking again, supporting you on his back, carefully minding your legs hanging over his arms.

"You comfortable up there, princess?"

"Yes.." Remus felt a small hint of relief at your response, glad that you seemed to be comfortable on his back. He carried on walking, the weight of you on his back not as heavy as he'd expected. Feeling your arms around his neck and your legs around his arms, he found himself liking the feeling of having you close to him.

He glanced down at the bandages on your wrist, his thoughts drifting to the mystery of what those scars were from. He wanted to know, but didn't want to pry.

Remus noticed your silence as he walked, a small pang of concern nagging in his mind. The usual chattiness that he had come to expect from you was strangely missing, and he couldn't help but wonder if something was bothering you.

He glanced at your wrist again, his eyes lingering on the bandages, before he spoke up, breaking the silence gently.

"You're quiet today, princess."

"M'tired."

Remus nodded in understanding, a small smile tugging at his lips at your tired confession.*

"I know you're tired, sweetheart, but we're almost back to the castle. We can rest then."

He found himself enjoying the weight of you on his back, the feeling of you so close to him somewhat comforting. He continued walking, slowly nearing Hogwarts.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𐙚 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Remus's body was battered and bruised, the full moon transformation having taken its toll on him as always. He staggered into the prefect bathroom, the warm water running, and sank down into the bathtub with a sigh.

Hot baths had become something of a comfort for him lately. The heat soothed his aching muscles and numbed the physical pain, although the sight of the fresh bleeding scars brought a small pang of disgust.

His wet drenched hair didn't bother him, he wanted to go and collapse straight into his bed, he changed into his clothes and jumped straight into the bed alone since Sirius and James were sleeping at their girlfriends. but a familiar ring was heard, like noises that would come from your bracelets that clink each other, Remus's ears instinctively perked up at the sound of the clinking noise, the familiar ring instantly recognizable as it broke the quiet of the room. He sat up in his bed, his weary gaze scanning the room in search of the source. His tired mind quickly made the connection, knowing that sound all too well, a knock before the door opened, Remus already knew who it was.

"Hi.."

Remus smiled weakly as he heard your voice, his expression showing a mix of fatigue and relief as the door opened and you appeared before him.

"Hey, princess..."

He sat up a bit straighter in his bed, a small hint of sleep lingering in his eyes. Despite his exhaustion, seeing you brought a familiar sense of comfort.

"I've got chocolate.. uhm.. mind if I sit?" You asked, despite knowing he would say yes to you sitting on his bed, before giving him the crinkly golden wrapper inside with chocolate. Remus chuckled softly at your question, a small smile playing on his lips. Of course he didn't mind if you sat on his bed. In fact, he secretly found it endearing when you did.

"Of course. Come here, sweetheart."

He patted the empty spot next to him, beckoning you to sit down. His eyes stayed on yours, watching as you approached with the crinkled golden wrapper in hand.

"You okay..? I've noticed you've always been gone during the full moon.. and I just ..." You said, as you sat, his body tensed up. Remus's expression softened as you spoke, a pang of guilt tugging at his heart. He knew you were aware of his monthly 'disappearance', and he knew you must be worried about him. He let out a soft sigh, his gaze fixed on the empty space ahead of him for a moment before answering.

"I'm... I'm fine. It's just the full moon taking a toll on me. I promise I'm alright."

His voice was tired, but he tried to hide his exhaustion as best as he could from you.

"You're bleeding y'know?"

Remus was caught slightly off guard by your comment. He had almost forgotten about the fresh cuts and bleeding scars that marked his body, so used to them now that he hardly noticed the pain or the blood.

He looked down at his arms, the slashes and cuts still weeping blood, some already starting to form scars. He let out a small sigh.

"Ah...yeah, I guess I am...it's nothing, though. I'm fine."

"D'you have more of them..?"

Remus's eyes met yours as you asked your question, a flicker of vulnerability and hesitation in his gaze. He knew you meant well, but he didn't want to burden you with the knowledge of the full extent of his scars and the truth behind them.

"Yeah...I do."

He looked away, avoiding your gaze. The thought of showing you the rest of his scars was both terrifying and oddly comforting. He didn't want to see the look on your face once you had seen them in full. You knew that. You looked down as if thinking of doing something. Something that could change his view. A moment of silence before you spoke up.

"I'll show you mines if you show me yours."

*Remus's eyes widened slightly at your unexpected suggestion. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. You were offering to show him your scars in exchange for seeing his.*

*A part of him wanted to protest, to resist the notion of revealing such intimate and vulnerable parts of themselves to each other. But another part of him, a larger part of him, couldn't deny the strange sense of comfort and understanding your offer had brought. He let out a shaky breath.

"You sure about this, princess?"

"Mhm.."

Remus's heart thumped heavily in his chest. Your agreement had both surprised and relieved him. He could see the sincere determination in your eyes.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was about to happen. With a mix of hesitation and courage, he reached for the hem of his shirt, grasping it tightly.

"Alright then, sweetheart...but you first."

Taking off the bunch of bracelets he had never seen you took of before, the same white bandage there had stains of red and orange, before peeling it off, deep red raw scars that's were in the process of healing appeared. Both sides of your wrist, his heart skipping a beat as the deep red, raw scars came into view. He had never seen your wrists bare like this before, so the image of the healing cuts was both shocking and distressing. He fought the urge to reach out and touch the fresh wounds, his hands clenching into fists to keep himself grounded.

"Sweetheart..."

He whispered, his voice thick with a mixture of pain and concern. He couldn't believe what he was seeing.

".. I.. I wanna see yours."

Remus's heart ached at the sight of your wrists, but he knew that he had promised to show you his scars in return. With a mixture of reluctance and determination, he slowly lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing his own collection o scars that adorned his chest and arms.*

The scars were a stark contrast to his usually unblemished skin, a permanent mark of the pain and suffering he had endured. Deep cuts, scratches, and pale white lines were scattered across his body in various sizes and shapes. You stood quiet, the both of you did. Before your hand reached out, uncertain.

"Can I..?"

Remus's breath caught in his throat as your hand reached out towards his scars. He wasn't used to people seeing them, let alone touching them. But he nodded, knowing that he had agreed to this. He trusted you.

"Yeah...you can."

His voice was soft, a hint of trepidation mixed with a hint of relief. He watched as your hand inched closer, anticipation and nervous tension building in his chest.

Remus's breath hitched as your soft touch grazed over his chest and torso, his body responding to the gentle sensation with a mix of comfort. No one had ever touched his scars like this before, with such care and tenderness. It was an odd feeling, both intimate and soothing.

He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of your hands tracing over his scars, like a salve to his wounded body and soul. A small sigh escaped his lips, tension melting away beneath your feather-light touch.

"My wrist are no the only ones though.."

Remus's eyes opened slowly as your words hit him, his mind registering the implications of your statement. He looked up at you, his gaze curious but caring.

"There's more?"

He whispered, his voice gentle and concerned. The revelation that there were more scars beyond your wrists caught him off guard, and a protective instinct stirred within him. Remus's heart ached as your silent indication confirmed his suspicions. His eyes trailed down to your stomach, even though he had already guessed where the scars might be.

A mixture of sadness and anger stirred within him. He had never guessed that you carried more scars than he had thought, but he was also strangely glad you had chosen to share this part of yourself with him.

"Can I...?"

He asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, his gaze fixed on your stomach. Remus watched as you nodded, giving him permission to see the scars on your stomach. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest, before gently lifting the hem of your shirt, his hands trembling slightly.

He felt the smooth skin of your stomach beneath his fingers, a marked contrast to the scarred skin of his own body, as he slowly revealed your hidden wounds. He braced himself, preparing to see the evidence of your pain.

it wasn't deep, but they were long thin white lines over your stomach, long strides of it across your body. Remus's breath caught in his throat as he saw the scars across your stomach. They were long, thin, and white, evidence of past pain and struggles that hadn't faded completely from your body. His heart ached at the sight, and a mix of sadness and anger rose within him.

He traced his fingers lightly along the lines, careful not to press too hard or cause you pain, but unable to keep himself from touching them. The urge to comfort and protect you was strong, but he knew he had to tread carefully.

"Rem.."

Remus looked up from your stomach, his gaze meeting yours. A mix of emotions swam in his eyes - sadness, anger, and a deep sense of empathy for you. Your voice saying his name in such a soft, vulnerable tone made his heart ache even more.

"Yeah...?"

He whispered, his fingers still gently tracing over the scars on your stomach, his touch like a feather, his eyes not leaving your face. You held his face for a while, your hand rested against his cheek, before leaning closer and closer, uncertain. Remus didn't pull away as you held his face in your hand. He leaned into your touch, his cheek resting in your palm, the warmth of your skin against his a soothing comfort. As you leaned closer, he could feel the soft puffs of your breath mingling with his.

He could sense your uncertainty, your hesitation, and his heart hammered in his chest, a mixture of desire and nervousness coursing through his veins.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't-" Remus didn't allow you to pull back, his hands reaching up to grasp your wrist delicately, keeping you close to him. His eyes locked onto yours, his voice low and earnest.

"No, don't apologize...don't pull away."

He didn't know where this moment was heading, but he knew he didn't want it to end, not yet.

Remus searched your eyes, trying to understand the unspoken emotions and thoughts that flickered there. His heart raced, caught up in the intensity of the moment. He could feel your wrist beneath his fingers, the rapid pulse mirroring his own. He wasn't sure what was happening between you, but he couldn't tear his gaze away.

"Princess..."

He whispered your nickname tenderly, as if it had become a prayer on his lips. Remus leaned in, closing the gap between you. His lips gently brushed against yours, at first hesitant, but then more confident as he gave in to the desire that had built between you. The touch of his lips against yours sent a shockwave through his body, and his grip on your nape tightened slightly, pulling you even closer, as if he never wanted to let go.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𐙚 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Remus's head rested on your stomach, his chin resting near your hips as your fingers gently caressed his hair. The early morning light streamed in through the crack in the curtains, illuminating the room with a soft, dim glow. His body was warm and relaxed, the weariness from the night before fading as he found comfort in your touch and the intimacy of the moment.

He couldn't imagine anything more perfect than this - the feeling of your fingers running through his hair, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing beneath him, the scent of your skin surrounding him like a comforting blanket.

You let out a soft gasp as Remus's lips brush against your scars, sending a shiver down your spine. His arms wrapped around your hips, holding you close against him, and you melted into his embrace.

His kisses were light, but each one sent a small jolt of electricity through your body. The way he so tenderly kissed your scars, as if they were delicate treasures to be cherished, made your heart swell with a mix of emotions.

Falling asleep bare together, tangled limbs to let the rest of the marauders find the two of you like this in the afternoon, James can't help but let out a cheerful grunt as he has won the bet against Lily.

Please don't repost my fics on other platforms !

[dadsbongos]

i eat your skin - f.megumi

part of the jjk movie marathon event / movie selection … warnings - cunnilingus (fem reader), title sounds like vore smut but it isn't i promise word count - 3.7 K / rating - R

Megumi braces his hands on his knees, brows pinched tight in preemptive annoyance. Satoru spindles over him, shadowing the younger man almost completely - and it only serves to irritate Megumi that he’d refused to sit down. Furiously determined to forever humiliate his former pupil, Megumi assumes.

Or, he would, if Satoru hadn’t actually agreed to give him advice about a little… situation.

“Alright, now when you see her, look at me- seriously, look at me, Megumi,” Satoru’s face is lethally drawn, usual bright grin tugged low and serious with furrowed brows to match, “Megumi, you cannot let her intimidate you,” Megumi opens his mouth, a vile retort slithers back down his throat when Satoru interrupts, “No, I know you, and you’ll feel all sick,” he mocks a frown, even pretending to wipe tears from his eyes, “You’ll get all nervous. But you cannot let her intimidate you out of it.”

“I’ll hardly die asking her out,” Megumi rolls his eyes, one hand lathering the sweat in his palms against his sweatpants and the other scratching the back of his neck, “Maybe this just isn’t a good idea…”

“And what? Be a miserable wimp the rest of your life?” Satoru folds his arms across his chest, “You’ve liked her since you were first years.”

“And?”

“You’re graduates now!”

“So?”

“‘So,’” Satoru mimics Megumi’s sulking nature, voice deep and neanderthal-ish in nature, “Be greedier, kid!” he flicks the younger man’s forehead, “You’ll die one day. You’ll die. Whether it be on a mission, or in your hospital bed as a diseased old man - you can’t stop it. So, why deprive yourself of something you really want when it all ends the same?”

Megumi can’t exactly pinpoint the reason he even came to his old legal guardian for help over, say, Nanami. He definitely should’ve gone to Nanami, at least he could’ve given Megumi genuine advice that isn’t some children’s show morale of “just tell her how you feel!” - he could’ve done that any day.

When Megumi opens his mouth to protest, Satoru flicks him again.

“You think your special one,” Megumi gags loudly at the title, and Satoru pays it no mind, “is gonna sit around her entire life not having fun and being young? Getting dates?” Satoru nods to himself when Megumi doesn’t reply, “Duh.”

“I want this to be special,” Megumi insists, both hands coming to rest in his lap now, he squeezes them together, lacing his fingers and imagining how yours would look with him instead, “I want- “

He wants and wants and wants and does nothing.

He needs to be someone you simply can’t fathom saying no to, he needs it so bad his stomach churns just like Satoru said it would.

“Alright, I know it can be difficult for you - not being me, after all,” a large hand claps on Megumi’s shoulders and he looks up to see the beaming face attached, “But trust me, kid, this whole idea of a ‘special’ confession is archaic bullshit compared to just being yourself.”

“I thought girls liked special confessions?”

“Sexist: not all girls automatically like the same things,” his former teacher shakes his head, sighing out each disappointed fiber trapped in his soul, “And if she doesn’t accept a plain, Megumi-style date proposition, then her shock and awe over a sick-as-hell graphic novel confession isn’t going to make for a healthy relationship.”

“Hm,” Megumi bites back frustrated curses, taking the words and molding them into a more conventional way that actually makes sense. He nods, “Okay.”

“Exactly,” Satoru stands back, giving Megumi room to rise from his bed, “Oh, but one thing that does help?” the older man grins wickedly, “Eat her out. Direct line to a woman’s heart is through eating her pussy.”

“Shut up,” Megumi huffs, pointing at his wide-open bedroom door, “Shut up. Shut up and get the hell out.”

“Jeez,” Satoru yanks at the already loose collar of his plain black shirt, “I thought we left teen angst behind. Just give it some thought! And also, I wanted to ask- “

Megumi huffs, falling back onto his bed, still pointing at the door.

“If,” and in true fashion, Satoru continues, maybe even a little louder (just to prove a point), “you wanted to watch a movie?”

“No,” Megumi immediately answers.

“C’mon! It’s this or paperwork I have to do.”

Megumi’s eye roll gives Satoru no more room for pleading, and so he stalks back to the living room. Dragging his socked feet over a shaggy black rug towards the door, he takes a final peek over his shoulder at the boy on his bed. Stupid mouth in a stupid pout and stupid nose forcing stupid crocodile sniffles, Satoru acts out a picturesque performance. And if his blindfold were off, Megumi is certain he’d catch big blue eyes framed by batting white lashes.

“No, “ Megumi rolls his eyes again, “‘m going out.”

…

Blushy top with faded blue bell bottoms and a shiny, thin chain that dangles across your chest, Megumi’s eyes flit away from your figure just as quick as they’d found you. Everything’s a little murky under the purple LEDs, but he thinks you’ve worn that before. He thinks you’re somehow more beautiful now. He looks away, snaking through a narrow, picture-framed hallway at Yuuji’s back to this house’s kitchen. There are no light strips strapped across the kitchen walls, simple and plain and unflattering fluorescent bulbs send a gentle cream wash over the walls.

With only a handful of straggling bodies leaning against peeling-edged faux wood cabinets and spotted countertops, there’s more room to breathe than in the hall. Red Solo cups from every teen movie nightmare decorate hands and unnerving corners. Some more anxious part of him wants to reach out and push every precarious ruby further back into secure landing, but he doesn’t.

Two women in complimentary spaghetti strap dresses flounce out of the kitchen with looped arms. They’re sunk into the plum tank until Megumi can’t see them at all anymore.

“Oh, like that!” you muse, nudging your chin towards a pair in matching floral print dresses that reach about mid-thigh, “Exactly my point.”

“That’s hardly 70s influenced,” the man in front of you - Jirou? Junto? Jouji? you don’t really recall - shakes his head, “Just flowers.”

“No, no, look at the trim,” you’re trying your hardest not to point but this guy just cannot pinpoint the details in your mind to save his life, “It’s flowy and mesh. Sort of. That’s a little more flower child era, right?”

“I guess, if your only experience in that fashion was movies,” you huff at the response and he laughs in the face of such exasperation.

“Whatever! You’re so difficult.”

“Hobby,” it’s so plain out of his lips. Like you should somehow be expecting that snark.

“Oh my God…” you can hardly believe someone could be so obtuse. A contrarian just for the fun of it, “And are you normally invited to parties for that?”

“Oh, no,” his tone, again, betrays some delusion that you should already know the answer, but this time you do already know. Who invites a conversation killer to an event? “I got dragged here by a friend. Don’t even know who the host is.”

You snicker, one hand smothering the sight of your mouth, “That makes more sense.”

Megumi can see the hand that binds, you usually don’t string it up around those you’re close with. Like Yuuji and Nobara and Maki and Miwa from Kyoto and your friends that live closer to the coast and the friends that don’t and your parents and him. So you’d think he’d know better than to let a big, gangly, clawed, green beast sprout and grow and suck away at his gut.

Even though that hand is a sign of some rising desire to be out of that conversation, he still hates being across the room when it happens. Because that’s still some semblance of a shining star behind the flesh. Some laugh or smile he’s not next to.

And it isn’t like he hates when you’re out with others. What he hates is being in the same room with someone potentially more captivating than he is.

He hopes you like him best because he’s the most familiar and drawing, and it’s disturbing when someone else might be more homely and more charming and more absorbing. He hates the curdling illness of jealousy and he hates to be this way when you two aren’t even together, but most of all he hates that maybe you’ll prefer someone else simply because they’re better at his craft than he is.

So Megumi watches and rots quietly with thick, spindling vines spreading and tangling him to the kitchen doorway as you talk to a guy whose name he doesn’t know. It’s pathetic and waning most unbearably.

“Stop staring, it’s weird,” Yuuji chastises, chunking part of his weight against Megumi’s side, an elbow shelved on Megumi’s shoulder, “Just go up and say something, if you wanna talk to her.”

“Yeah, it’s that easy,” Megumi jerks through the vines and into the hungry waters of a living room party with a snapping, starved crowd before finding the optimal spot: a plain wall with no posters or pictures to snag and smack down.

Yuuji trails after, his white shirt reflecting a blinding shade of lavender from beneath his puffer jacket. Much easier to track down than Megumi’s gloomy, funeral-grade attire. Yuuji capitalizes on the empty space so ugly at Megumi’s side, staking claim to the wall with a huff, “It is, by the way. You two are friends. Go tell her you’re here.”

“But then I’d have to,” Megumi’s mouth zips shut, head tilting as he snakes a hand through some imaginary crowd.

“I guess,” Yuuji wants to shake Megumi at times like this. He wants to shake you too, sometimes. But mostly he imagines squeezing Megumi’s shoulders and smacking him around, but he never does.

Maybe just the first part.

All out of love.

“Okay,” so Yuuji pivots, swerving in front of his best friend and taking one shoulder in each hand, “You need to do something or you’re going to sit here and be pouty, dude.”

“I’m not pouty.”

“Biggest lie in Tokyo, brother,” Yuuji purses his lips, eyes flitting to where you are, “I’ll get her over here if you really don’t want to.”

“Hm?” Megumi’s brows furrow, neck craning closer as if he could somehow mishear the man.

“Just pretend to be busy or some shit and I’ll brave the crowd,” Yuuji goes to walk away, suddenly pausing and placing a hand over Megumi’s heart, “And if I don’t return, sing songs for me by a nice lake every anniversary.”

“Whatever,” Megumi knocks away the hand but is already pulling out his phone to perform the charade. His eyes lock onto the screen and he soldiers on to not rip them away and give slight that this was planned.

…

“Do you think I could maybe get your number?”

“Oh!” no, God no - you wish you were better at saying that, “Uh,” it’s not even as if you dislike this guy, you just don’t think any conversation with him could amount past what it has.

Wow, you’re a pain in the ass! Yeah but it’s funny, right? Not if it’s on purpose. Especially if it’s on purpose! Sure, if that’s what you think. You do think it’s funny, right? Sure. Come on, it is! Sure.

And dry replies make you want to claw your eyes out more when you have to give them than when you receive them.

So when the bony fingers of Yuuji creep upon your side, it’s like the first drink of water after sifting through thick bowls and hills of sandy desert. He leans his head down into your peripheral, grinning brightly, “Miss me?”

“Yuuji!” you cheer, turning to… Junsei? and laying a flat palm under Yuuji’s chin, “This is my buddy, who I didn’t know was coming.”

“I texted you,” he pinches your side, “Fushiguro’s busy, so I’m fetching you for the night,” and you wonder if he might feel the stiffness of your muscles and the rigid air, “Sorry, man, but she’s got serious business tonight!”

“Oh,” Junzo! Junzo’s forehead crinkles, nose wrinkling at the bluntness of this cocky new stranger, “Uh…”

“See you around,” maybe it’s a lie, maybe it isn’t. You wave and let Yuuji keep you pressed to his side. You wait until you’re certain the surrounding affairs of other people drown whatever you could say to Yuuji, “Thank you for that. He was asking for my number and I just didn’t know what to say…”

“No,’” he shrugs.

“Oh, like you could’ve done that.”

“I could’ve!”

But Yuuji can do anything, so that isn’t fair.

“‘gumi!” you cheer upon getting close to the boy, arms splaying wide before wringing yourself around his neck, “I was worried you weren’t coming!”

He hesitates before having the misfortune to hear Satoru’s words once again. Be greedier. Be greedier. So he gently settles both hands on your back, pushing you chest-to-chest, “Yeah, well, Itadori wouldn’t let me stay in.”

“Poor baby,” you step back, and Megumi takes notice in how you maintain your hands’ position over his shoulders, nails picking at fluff on his shirt.

Megumi, regrettably, can still hear Satoru in the back of his head. Greedier, greedier, greedier. It chokes him up, the idea of selfishly taking you for himself. But what really grips him is the terrible way your gaze flits from his face to other men - unintentionally, he’s sure. But it drives him wild all the same.

“I hate big parties,” Megumi boldly cradles the bend of your waist with his hand, fingers splaying wide over the curve. He tugs you closer, thighs nearly brushing, “Crowd’s a pain in the ass.”

“Ah, no, c’mon, what’s that Great Gatsby quote?” who’s to say, he hasn't read that book, “‘I like large parties. They’re so intimate…’” you shrug, bottom lip tugging between your teeth when he doesn’t show any recognition, “‘At small parties there isn’t any privacy.’”

“You actually remembered that shit?”

You titter coyly, “Maybe I saw it on one of those book quotes videos. Maybe I remembered it.”

“Well, it’s a stupid quote. There’s too much noise at big parties, it’s hard to hear people.”

“You hear me just fine,” that’s just because he’s leaning closer and trying harder than he does for most people, “Besides, I like it. At big parties you can just fuck off and do your own thing, you know? At small parties there’s this expectation to be around everyone and interact with everyone and be having fun with the group.”

Finally, it seems to click, he nods slowly, “You like to get away from the crowd?”

“Yeah,” you scratch the side of your arm, then your neck, and it’s so odd how just thinking about how uncomfortable your skin is that you can get so itchy, “Hard to do that when the crowd’s five people and a dog.”

“Well,” Megumi can feel Yuuji’s stare, and it takes everything in him to not knock the kid up his skull, “If you wanna get away, I’m sure - uh,” he’s suddenly humiliated by his own hubris, “I’m sure there’s room… upstairs…”

You grace him with a patient nod, hands lowering from his shoulders to lace your fingers together, “I’m sure there is.”

…

“So…”

“So…”

Megumi nods, head slowly tilting so he’s staring up at you through his long lashes, “So.”

You lean closer, shoulder pressing and nose bumping against his, “So?”

The heat from Megumi’s cheeks wavers over you, his flesh ripe with crimson. You want to bite him. Leave a terrible mark that he couldn’t possibly cover up; maybe he’d let it bleed through his dark shirt. Maybe he’d let you lick it clean.

“You look nice,” he tucks his face down, heated skin now flush against your top. His brows furrow, uncertain, “Really nice.”

Megumi wonders what Satoru or Yuuji would do. They’re greedier than him by nature. More outgoing.

They would’ve done something years ago.

Suddenly, you grin. All sharp teeth and nails pricking over his thigh, through his pants. Your eyes stare down at him over the bridge of your nose, and you lean closer - smothering any space he’d initially put between your bodies.

“Are you gonna do something about it?”

Megumi’s eyes widen, warmth beating over his face and the back of his neck. He flails for a response, trapped under your piercing gaze, before finally settling on a response that he hopes pleases you.

“Do you want me to?”

You frown; something in his chest stings, a chord pulled awry. The tug of your lips is all a ploy, a mesmerizing color to disguise venom, “Don’t you want to, ‘gumi?” you pull away, leaning back with your hands pressed to the mattress below, “Don’t you want me?”

A cold breeze from this stranger’s open window takes up residence across Megumi’s sweltering skin. He hates it. He wants to get up from the bed altogether and slam the window shut. He wants to take you in both hands and sink himself into the softness of your skin. He thinks you’d be savory.

He wants to be certain.

So both of his hands mold to your hips, melting his exposed skin to yours.

Fingers dipping into the waistband of your bottoms, he bats his eyelashes and tucks his lower lip between fangs. He may draw blood. He cares not.

The oxygen is thin; hardly refreshing.

Megumi swallows the pooling want on his tongue, his fingers twitch against you, “Can I- “

“‘gumi…” you flatten yourself onto your back, hips tilting up into his palms, “Show me you want me.”

“Okay,” Megumi nods, air forced out of his throat through swollen hunger, “Okay.”

Once he’s gotten your pants off, Megumi presses open kisses against the inside of your thighs, following the swell to its natural apex. He digs the jab of his nose into you, lips impolitely fluttering against the seat of your panties before dipping his tongue out. Lolling the soft, soaked muscle over the clinging fabric, he feels his chest clench at how you rock your hips down into his face.

He feels one of your hands wind into his messy hair, carding through the softness. He wants to make you tug it - pull cruelly and grind against his face. Take what he gives and selfishly demand more.

Megumi groans heartily into your clothed cunt when the slickness of his saliva pulls your wetness from the cloth; when the unabashed taste of you meets his tongue.

He nearly rips your panties down your legs, settling it in a ball at his side. Heart leaping up into his jaw at the mere thought of getting his tongue into you.

Laving his tongue between your folds, Megumi licks up to your clit and circles the bud - his hips jerking down into the plush mattress when you jolt up and tug his hair. He pulls his head back only to pucker his lips and drool onto your hole, adding to the sloshing wetness before steadying his shaky fingers against you.

Sucking your clit into his mouth, Megumi begins softly. Caressing the bundle of nerves with his warm tongue, blending flat, broad strokes with precision dances of the muscle over you. Meanwhile, he slicks his middle finger into your hole and moans in response to your gasp.

When he’s sure you’re wet and stretched enough, he adds a second finger and curls them both upwards. The muscles in his arm will be aching tomorrow, but he shoves that to the back of his mind. He presses and scissors and dips inside you until the pads of his fingers find sponge, and he hits there, and there again. And again. And again. And again.

He hits there until you’re fully babbling, gushing against his swollen, pink lips and chin. And he’s starting to babble back.

Vibrations are loosely strewn together as ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and ‘cum on me’ are bound against your clit as he nuzzles closer into your heat. Burying himself between your thighs and finding himself releasing a moan into your cunt when your thighs clenched tightly around his head. The fat of your thighs snug over his ears.

Releasing your clit from between his lips with a soft ‘pop’, Megumi flays his tongue onto the exposed nerve. Hot puffs of air leave him with each groan and whimper as his desperation to make you cum hammers over him.

Finally, you yank his hair again and snap your hips into his tongue; cunt sucking his fingers in even deeper. You squeeze around him, back arching, and his name singing from your lips.

Megumi unfurls his fingers as your cum splashes out onto his waiting tongue and chin, riding you through the hurls of pleasure until your twitching legs crash back onto the mattress. Slowly, he slides his fingers out of you before licking up your excess release from the divots in your thighs and your cunt.

Unwinding your fingers, you settle for soothing his stinging scalp with gentle pets.

Eventually sitting up, Megumi gasps for air as you do, staring down at his fingers. Shining with your wetness.

“Still hungry?” you tease, voice ripped at the edges.

“Actually?” Megumi shrugs, “A little.”

The cocky air has dissipated from your body. Once tense and lively limbs were now useless against the bed.

Megumi jams both fingers into his mouth and sucks off your cum.

“Insatiable!” you huff.

Rouge has overtaken Megumi’s cheeks - worse than before - and he can’t meet your eyes after having swallowed what remained of your soak. He leans over onto his elbow to avoid crushing you, “Only when it’s you… I don’t,” he waves his hand around, “do this often…”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

Megumi has to hide his grin, almost embarrassed to enjoy being praised, choosing to take up time looking around the room you’d shoved him into.

Idol posters with one constant member litter the walls. Pink concert tickets cover the desk. And many pictures with the same two people overwhelm Megumi’s sight. He feels an unsettled chill scrawl over his skin.

“Todo is going to kill me,” he grimaces.

“Was it worth it?”

Megumi doesn’t take long to respond, already trying to think of where and when he can get you under him again, “Definitely.”

Megumi’s proper death is drowning via punani tsunami *thumbs up emoji*

[rosyrosethings]

CEO Harry and assistant goes to a wedding

Summary: Harry and His Assistant Y/n

Get ger invited to a wedding woth his mom and sister.

Fluff

On an ordinary Wednesday, Harry and his assistant were working from his home office. Harry had opted for remote work that day, and Y/n was busy sorting through the day's mail. As she sifted through the envelopes, one caught her eye, addressed to Mr. Styles. She hesitated, wondering if opening it would be an invasion of privacy. However, she justified it by comparing it to her access to his emails and decided to take a peek. Inside, she found an invitation to a wedding.

The invitation read, 'Join us to celebrate the wedding of Lou & Cindy.' Y/n quickly scanned the details, noting that the wedding was scheduled for the upcoming Friday and that Mr. Styles could bring a plus one. Excitement surged through her, prompting her to dash upstairs to Mr. Styles' office.

"Mr. Styles!" she exclaimed, walking in and slightly startling him.

"Y/n, first of all, no yelling. Secondly, I've told you to knock before entering," he reminded her. She nodded, giving a quick pivot and leaving his office.

"Sorry," she mumbled before knocking on the door frame and stepping in without waiting for an invitation, taking a seat on the right side of his desk. Her legs crossed.

"I was going through your mail, and..."

"Isn't opening someone's mail an invasion of privacy?" he interjected, setting down his pen and turning his chair towards her. Giving her his full attention.

"Yes, but then I thought, as your assistant, I have the right to go through your emails. And then I thought, isn't mail and email basically the same thing? Yes, they are. So, I opened the mail, and you have an invitation to Lou and Cindy's wedding," she explained, slapping the invitation on top of his paperwork.

Harry picked it up, his brows furrowing as he examined the invitation. He had completely forgotten about the wedding.

"Who's Lou? Why haven't I heard of him? I know everyone you know. I schedule everything you do," Y/n inquired.

"Lou's my childhood best friend. I haven't seen him in years, ever since I moved and became CEO. I completely forgot about this," Harry confessed.

"Well, it's on Friday. I can reschedule everything. I can even arrange for Bridget to attend," Y/n suggested, though she wrinkled her face slightly because she wanted to go to the wedding herself. Plus, she wasn't particularly fond of Bridget.

"I actually can't go with Bridget. If I take her to a wedding, she might get ideas about getting married, and besides, she's gone to America for a business trip," Harry explained. He glanced at Y/n, who was sitting on his desk with a hopeful grin.

"So, that means you need someone to go to the wedding with you?" Y/n asked with a smile.

"Yes, it does," Harry confirmed with a nod.

"You know, I've always loved weddings, and I've got the best dance moves," she teased. She said hopping off the desk.

"Really? Such as?" Harry inquired.

"Mhmmm. My go-to moves are the Milly Rock and Shakira's hips. Everyone loves those moves," Y/n replied spinning her hips in circles.

"Do you want to come to the wedding with me?" Harry asked, chuckling slightly. Y/n clasped her hands together in excitement.

"I thought you'd never ask! I'm going to find our outfits. I'm so excited; I love weddings!" she exclaimed before jumping off his desk and rushing away, the sound of her bare feet echoing in the room, leaving Harry chuckling behind.

***

Harry and Y/n found themselves in the car, approximately 20 minutes away from the wedding venue. As they cruised toward their destination, a sense of anticipation filled the air.

"Oh, Harry, we're actually early! We're going to get some fantastic seats," Y/n exclaimed, her excitement evident in her voice.

"My mum and Gemma are already there. They saved seats for us next to them," Harry replied casually.

"Gemma and Anne are there too? You didn't mention that," Y/n said, her excitement growing.

"They don't know you were coming with me. I'm pretty sure they'll love the idea of us attending together," Harry chuckled, the corners of his lips curling upward.

"Not to mention, we're matching!" Y/n pointed out, highlighting the fact that her lilac dress perfectly complemented Harry's silky lilac button-up shirt. She couldn't help but steal a glance at him, noticing that a few buttons on his shirt were undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest tattoos. He looked even more attractive than usual.

"Oh, Harry, we have to dance together," Y/n insisted.

"No," Harry replied bluntly.

"Why not?" she pressed, her disappointment evident in her tone.

"I'm not much of a dancer," Harry confessed with a sigh.

"You asshole," Y/n mumbled under her breath.

"What was that, Ms. Y/L/N?" Harry inquired, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"Nothing," she pouted, refusing to repeat her remark. They continued the journey in a comfortable silence until they finally reached the wedding venue.

Upon arrival, they found their seats next to Anne and Gemma. Harry settled into the aisle seat beside his mother, while Y/n moved to sit in the empty spot next to Gemma.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, reaching out to grab Y/n's wrist. She glanced at him before turning her attention back to Gemma, who was watching their interaction closely.

"I'm sitting next to Gemma, if that's okay with you," Y/n replied, now standing in front of him. Harry shook his head.

"It's not okay because I have space for you right here," he said, nodding towards the seat next to him. Gemma couldn't help but smirk at the exchange.

"Besides, you can use my handkerchief when you start sobbing," Harry added, a teasing glint in his eyes. Y/n rolled her eyes but ultimately relented, taking the empty seat next to him.

"Harry honey, if you wanted Y/n to sit next to you, all you had to do was say that. No need to embarrass the poor girl," Anne chimed in.

"Right, he just wants her all to himself, even though he bloody lives with her," Gemma added with a playful grin. Harry didn't respond to their teasing; instead, he focused on his phone, trying to ignore the banter. As the sound of music filled the air, signaling the start of the ceremony, they all settled into their seats, ready to celebrate the joyous occasion.

The groom made his way down the aisle, accompanied by the sweet melody that filled the air. Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation as she glanced at Harry. She reached over and gently nudged him, trying to bring his attention back to the moment.

"Harry, the ceremony is starting," she whispered, her voice filled with excitement.

He looked up from his phone, his eyes meeting hers. There was a softness in his gaze that made her heart flutter. With a small smile, he pocketed his phone and turned his focus towards the front, where the bride would soon make her grand entrance.

As the music swelled, everyone in the room rose to their feet, their gazes fixed on the glowing bride. Y/n marveled at the sight before her—the radiant bride walking down the aisle, the proud groom waiting at the altar, and the joyful atmosphere that enveloped the entire venue.

Throughout the ceremony, Harry stole glances at Y/n, smiling at her beauty. Y/n and Harry made eye contact him during the heartfelt vows, finding solace in his presence. They were witnessing a beautiful union, and in that moment, their own connection seemed to grow even stronger.

When the couple exchanged their vows and sealed them with a kiss, the room erupted into applause. Harry joined in the celebration, clapping his hands and offering his congratulations to the newlyweds. Y/n couldn't help but feel a warmth spreading within her, grateful to be a part of this special occasion.

As the ceremony concluded, the guests began to make their way to the reception area. Harry and Y/n followed the crowd, their steps light with anticipation. The reception hall was adorned with elegant decorations, casting a magical ambiance that filled the room.

They found their designated table, joining Anne and Gemma. As they were talking and mingling. The Lou the groom approached Harry.

"Harry! Lad! Im so glad you made it." Lou exclaimed, engulfing him in a hug. Harry just as excited hugging him back.

"Congratulations man! I wouldn't miss my best mates wedding for the world." Harry said back as they pulled back from the hug.

"Thanks mate, and who's this beauty you brought with you?" He said, looking over at y/n. He took her hand and shook it softly. Y/n smiled at the compliment.

"Hi, I'm Y/n. Im Harrys assistant!"

"Ohh the assistant?" Lou said, y/n nodded.

"We are hoping she becomes more than an assistant." Gemma said laughing with Anne. Harry rolled his eyes at them. Quickly dismissing them.

"Dont pay attention to them. Take me to meet the Mrs." Harry said as him and lou walked away together.

"That wasn't funny. Mr. Styles doesn't like me in that way you guys. Now im embarrassed." Y/n said as looked at them both.

"Whatever you say Y/n." Gemma responded giggling.

The rest night unfolded with laughter, heartfelt speeches, and joyful celebrations. Y/n couldn't resist tapping her fingers to the rhythm of the music, her feet itching to hit the dance floor. Harry watched her from across the room. Harry was off mingling with people he hasnt seen in years. When a guy approached Y/n.

"Hi, I couldn't help but notice how beautiful you are. I was wondering if I could get your name?" She looked up at him and gave him a slight smile.

"Im Y/n, whats your name?" She said

"Im Joshua, did you come alone?"

"No I came with my friend."

"Oh, friend? Does that mean you're single?” He said, she nodded. Harry watches their interaction intensely from across the room. Not even listening to the woman talking to him. He mumbled a quick excuse me. Heading toward Y/n. Harry interrupted the interaction.

"Lets dance." Harry said to Y/n. She looked at him skeptically. Not paying attention to the guy in front of her. Placing his hand out.

"With me? Are you sure?" She said as she placed her hand in his still skeptical of his question.

"Yes you Y/n. Do you see me anyone else?" He said taking her hand as the current song was going off and the next somg was transitioning on. She followed him to the dance floor. She quickly said Sorry to Joshua.

Then thinking out loud by ed Sheeran came on. She felt nervous. Mr. Styles is her boss and he has a girlfriend why does she love him so much? She thought to herself. She wrapped her arms around his neck. Keeping a distance like they were at middle school dance. Causing Harry to chuckle.

"Scared to get close to me?"he said with a smirk. He placed his hand on her lower back. He pulledd her body closer. So there no space between them. He leaned down and whispered to her. Y/n scared

"You look beautiful by the way if i haven't already said that. " he said lowly, his voice radiating through her body. She basically melting in his arms. She whispered a 'thank you.' as their feet moved step by step and beat by beat. Moving slowly around. Only focusing on each other. Harry did not want to be anywhere else.

While Anne and Gemma we're watching in the distance.

"And she says he doesn't like her." Gemma mumbled to her mother. As they watched both of them dance

[feroluce]

Boothill doesn't pull his hair back very often. Dan Heng can count the times he's seen him do it on one hand. The man's right eye is gone completely but his left is a cybernetic, and it means Boothill can "see" whether his hair is in his face or not, so there's simply never much need for it.

So it surprises him when Boothill asks if he can put his hair up for him Xianzhou-style.

"Do you even own a hairpin?"

"Ya got chopsticks around here, don't ya?"

Which is how they end up awkwardly sat on the floor of the archives, Boothill sitting criss-cross and Dan Heng knelt behind him to make up for the differences in their height. Boothill doesn't say why he wants this done, but Dan Heng can guess: long life species are rarely allowed to leave the Xianzhou ships. It's not as rare as running into an actual, real-life Galaxy Ranger, but it's still pretty uncommon. Boothill is just trying to indulge his curiosity about little cultural things like this while he's able. Dan Heng can never say no to that kind of curiosity.

When his own hair was long, he never put it up. But there are memories, just little bits of things that nip at Dan Heng's ankles in the night when he's alone in the dark. And he remembers something like this, something similar. Dan Feng's hands with a hairpin, long hair grayed with age flowing in rivers between his fingers, quick and easy practiced motions revealing ears and nape and soot from the forge.

Boothill hands him a chopstick when he asks for it, because Dan Heng finds he needs both hands to keep his hair in place. He's not quick enough the first time, and the bun unravels, and the second attempt is better but it's messy and held so loosely that he goes at it for a third.

Boothill doesn't comment on it. Instead he just sits there and admires the picture of it that Dan Heng shows him on his phone, chatters a bit about what he knows of Xianzhou culture, how he'd met a Foxian woman not too long before Penacony with elaborate decorations done up in her hair and he'd wondered how anyone could even do that. A hairpin maybe would have been easier, but really the chopsticks probably fit him better, pretty little things like that don't suit me, anyhow.

Dan Heng catches like. Half of it. He's too busy staring at his hands.

Dan Feng had been good at doing other people's hair for them. He'd had a lot of practice. Dan Heng had seen it. But in the molting rebirth, his body had reset. The simple knowledge could be inherited. The experience could not.

That skill, that muscle memory, belongs to Dan Feng, and to Dan Feng only.

There is no mourning, no sense of loss with this realization, just relief. An extra confirmation of something he had already known.

But Dan Heng looks up at Boothill, who is running his curious fingers over the back of his own head, and he thinks about how there are some things he can have just for himself, too.

[blood-starved-beast]

Something I haven't thought about much since the Technical Test but occurs to me now a month later is how I initially assumed Eris was working like vigilante style with the Chronos fight. It seems strange but it was based only on the dialogue between Hecate and Nemesis where she tells Nem that if she doesn't like her job she can do whatever Eris is doing. Which makes me think.

That's such an interesting line from Hecate. Cause when we meet Eris for real in the game, she is doing everything in her power to stop Melinoe. It's the complete opposite of that erroneous impression. Unless, it's not completely wrong.

Eris's whole deal, as is in the mythology, is that she wants to keep conflict ongoing as much as possible. She thrives on strife, and never picks a side but instead baits all involved to fan the flames. She's on everyone's side and at the same time, no one's. That likely carries over to Hades 2.

So what was Eris doing when she was gone from the Crossroads? It's entirely possible she was fighting Chronos forces, if only to cause more strife and prevent him from re-establishing his Golden Age. Cause then the Strife would actually end and a new order is established (which she hates). She only stops cause Melinoe becomes a larger threat to that Strife and decides that she needs to tip the scales in the opposite direction.

Alternatively, she was baiting whatever was attacking Olympus. There's a convo where she mentions that things were finally getting interesting, after all. Which coincides with Melinoe going to the surface to stop the attack there. Granted, this doesn't necessarily negate the earlier theory. The attack could've easily happened as Eris was "helping" the Unseen with Chronos's forces.

Either way, if Eris was "helping" the Unseen at that moment, it sort of makes sense why she's regarded the way she is in the Crossroads. Treated as an annoyance despite actively preventing Melinoe from achieving her goal. Cause much like her keepsake, Eris is a "tool" that can be beneficial with a high risk. If the conflict is tipped against you to the point that your opponent might win, Eris would likely aid you. But if the reverse is true, then she'd be againist. Very risky, not an ally in the true sense, but can be useful in certain circumstances, which a tactician such as Odysseus might consider.

[always-andromeda]

𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Joel Miller x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 2,896

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ When Joel and Ellie return to Jackson, you learn that Joel might not be telling the full truth about the pair's journey to Salt Lake City.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ this thing is rough. and terrible. but I've had seeds of this in my drafts for the last year and I really wanted to embrace some angst for a hot second. so enjoy my first fic post-finals season lmao. also. I'm experimenting with styles so excuse the hot mess of a title card. divider by @saradika-graphics <3

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ no smut but regardless, minors do not interact. post-outbreak universe. angst, little bits of fluff and banter, but mostly angst. some sweet Ellie interactions. allusions to past relationship between reader and Joel. mentions of alcohol. descriptions of canon-typical blood and violence. nothing else I can think of but please let me know if anything else should be added!

THIS ACCOUNT STANDS WITH PALESTINE ⟡ HOW YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE ⟡ DAILY CLICK FOR PALESTINE

Part of you hadn't expected Joel to come back. The snow melted away and the flowers had begun to bloom once more but he was still gone. And in this world, gone is as good as dead. So that's what you assumed.

While Tommy held out hope – talking about what he had to show Joel when he got back – you didn't even dare to speak his name. You couldn't fathom what had happened to him or the miracle girl he'd ridden into Jackson with. But you hoped it was quick. Though you knew full well that men like him rarely ever earned merciful endings.

You allowed yourself to wish for it, though only for a few seconds at a time. Then it was back to reality, going on patrols, lending a hand wherever it was needed, and keeping the community alive. Anything to get your mind off the fact that he probably wasn't coming back.

You hadn't known Ellie long during their initial visit. Even still, her personality wasn't one that could be swallowed lightly. She had been inquisitive, skeptical, and sarcastic; a bundle of anger and hope so bright that you could see why Joel was so drawn to her. It made complete sense that he would see her deliverance to the Fireflies through.

Which is why you were shocked when Joel Miller and the miracle girl waltzed right back through the gates of Jackson. But they were both different; both fragmented versions of the people who had passed through the prior winter.

For one, he smiled. When Joel first locked eyes with you upon their homecoming, he fucking smiled. It was this crooked, delicate thing that seemed to waver once it reached his eyes. And that's when you knew that something was wrong. He didn't even have to say it. The unspoken truth was solidified with Ellie's silence.

There would be no cure.

You'd shared a weary look with Tommy then. And he'd pursed his lips at you before returning Joel's smile; a quiet acknowledgement that you were both aware of the uncanniness in both Ellie and Joel's behavior. Then he led the two off, probably to get them something to eat and then to confer with Maria on where they could stay.

The two of them adjusted well to the community. You’d heard from others about how large of a help Joel had been on patrols. His experience in taking down infected was invaluable. Ellie, on the other hand, had thrown herself into helping with the animals. At first she struggled to adapt to the early morning schedule of the other handlers, but otherwise she took to the tasks quickly. She seemed the most at peace around them and you understood it.

Jackson was the closest thing to friendly that you’d encountered in years. But it still got a little suffocating at times.

Outside of the animals, Ellie was quiet; mostly keeping to herself with her nose buried in a notebook.

This was another one of those instances. You took a step back from your current task: repairing part of a fence that had been kicked in by one of the horses. As you wiped the sweat from your forehead, you couldn’t help but notice the girl sitting crossed legged atop a bale of hay a few feet from where you stood. 

Making your way towards her, you saw she was drawing again. And as you peeked over her shoulder, you spotted a sketch of the horses as the riders were taking them back into their barn. In the half hour since they’d ridden past she’d managed to capture their swift movements in each rough figure. On the next page over you identified a portrait that was immediately familiar to you.

"Is that Joel?" you'd asked, gesturing to the open book in her lap.

She seemed startled from a daze upon hearing your voice. "Hm?"

"That drawing. It's Joel, right?"

"Oh, yeah," she answered. "I guess I'm getting better, huh? Since you can actually tell who it's supposed to be,” she huffed.

"With those eyebrows and that nose? Who else could it possibly be?"

Sure, he and Tommy shared some similarities. But Tommy’s wrinkles weren’t quite that deep. And though Joel had grown his hair out a bit more since coming to Jackson, it hadn’t quite reached his shoulders the way that Tommy’s did.

Right away, you were sure it was Joel. You could already envision the wrinkle between his thick brows that seemed to perpetually haunt his face. His lips were a thin line – almost pursed – and topped with a slightly overgrown mustache. Yet it wasn’t an angry expression. More…vulnerable, perhaps. As if Ellie had asked him to stand still for a minute before scribbling a rough outline of his features for reference.

"Well..." she trailed off. "The first few times I tried...he just looked like a constipated potato."

You snorted, which immediately made the girl start to smile, "It's true!"

Relieved to see her in such a good mood, you pushed a little further, "One day I'd like to see these angry potato drawings. Because I bet they're just as true to life as this one." You pointed towards her drawing.

Thankfully, she laughed. A few seconds passed and her voice went small, "Do you really think it looks good?" She stared up at you with those dark brown eyes, searching for your approval.

You nodded. "I wasn’t an art critic before the outbreak. But I am an expert on that man’s face. And I think it's pretty damn good. I’m sure you’ll only get better the more you practice.”

She murmurs her gratitude before falling back into a trance. Hair blowing gently in the wind around her face, you can’t help but notice the way that light gradually fades from her eyes.

“You alright?”

“Has he been acting…weird…to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’ve known him longer than I have,” she sounds hesitant to admit. “You used to know him, I mean.”

You didn’t want to tell her the truth and further her worries. But something tells you that if you attempted to lie, she’d see right through it anyways. She’d find some way to get to the truth.

“He’s definitely been a little quiet lately. Just don’t know what for. Then again, he’s never been the type to share his feelings with anyone.”

“Not even with you?”

You snort, “Especially not me.” Remembering years of passive aggressive arguments and wordless apologies, it was unlikely that that part of him had changed much since those days. 

“Could you at least try to figure out what’s up with him?” for a moment, you detect a palpable anxiety in her tone. But she brushes it away swiftly before adding, “At least so we can rule out the possibility of dementia. Or whatever the fuck else it is that old people get.”

You roll your eyes at the attempt of a joke. “You’ve got it. I’ll see what I can find out.”

Turns out that saying you’d talk to Joel was a lot easier than actually doing it.

But then again, it had once been like this. All those years ago when it was just you, him, Tess, his brother, and the rest of the group that was moving through to Boston. Back then you’d always been at least a little afraid of him. Not only was he physically imposing and regularly proved the violence that laid just below the surface of his fingertips, but there was also the way he’d look at you like with that fucking face.

Like he was playing out how he’d get rid of you the moment you fucked up. Like he knew just how soft you were inside; how it was a wonder you’d even lived long enough to be standing in front of him looking as dumbfounded as you did. It was an expression that made your skin burn and your hands shake, only you were too stubborn to outwardly show it bothered you.

Slowly but surely, he’d mellowed out then. Surely, it would happen again.

If he was going to make any actual friends in town, it’d have to happen. He was already popular in his own right. The people of Jackson always got curious when someone new settled. It certainly didn’t help that this new someone happened to be Tommy’s brother.

They seemed to believe that Joel would be just like his bright eyed, bushy tailed little brother. And boy, did you get a kick out of seeing them realize how wrong they were.

Joel was polite, of course. But he wasn’t quick to cozy up with every person who came to his doorstep offering a housewarming present. No matter how many times you or Tommy assured Joel that it was all just friendly, he was reluctant to accept it.

You understood it. You’d had nearly as difficult a time acclimating to Jackson’s genial climate. Places like these just…couldn’t exist. It all felt like a mirage that would melt away in time. However, you came to discover that despite the close quarters and the occasionally nosy neighbors, you liked the place. To explain it simply, you liked belonging to something. The world would never be the way it was before, for better and for worse. But right here…people weren’t just surviving. They would live. 

And ever since he returned, you intended to show Joel just what that felt like.

The sun’s setting and the citizens of Jackson are already settling in for the evening, save for a handful of teenagers lingering in the streets. You pass by them, making your way towards the house at the end of the road. It’s a path you’ve become familiar with in the weeks since you started visiting Joel on an almost daily basis.

They aren’t always frivolous visits. Sometimes you help move furniture around. Sometimes you bring food when he’s been working all day. And sometimes on nights like tonight, if you manage to trade for a particularly good bottle of whiskey, you bring it straight to him to share.

It’s a good routine. One that makes you believe that you and him can bury the hatchet and start anew. If anything, it proves that though much time has passed since you and him had first met, you still know damn good and well how to push his buttons.

You knock on his door and are met with an obviously exhausted Joel. It’s hard to stop yourself from giving him a quick once over. When you do, you notice his hair has gotten the tiniest bit shaggier. Tufts of curls spill over his forehead and under his ears. He’d always cut it before it ever got the chance to grow like that.

The sight makes you smile. Joel Miller will never admit it, but living in Jackson is really starting to look good on him.

He rolls his eyes, “You again?”

“Oh, hush, you’re thrilled to see me,” you say before inviting yourself inside and heading straight towards his kitchen to deposit your alcoholic spoils.

“Thrilled is one hell of a descriptor.”

“Says the man who I’m sharing my liquor with.” You hold the bottle up before setting it down on his kitchen counter. “Besides, I’m just trying to get you a little out of your shell.”

Joel mumbles, “I’m doin’ alright on my own.”

“By fine you mean you’re fine trailing behind Tommy for the rest of your life? Because that’s the direction you’re headed in.”

He lets out an exasperated chuckle, “You know I made friends just fine before you came along, right?”

“Then you should have no problems with surprise visits from an old friend.” You intended to sound smug saying it. Instead it came off more longing than anything else.

Perhaps because you aren’t entirely sure what you and Joel even are anymore. A long time ago there was something more. But now? You look in his eyes and see apprehension brewing in them. He could go back and forth with you all day. Sincerity, on the other hand, was an entirely different matter.

Joel clears his throat before changing the subject. “You seen Ellie today? Tommy and I were up early for patrol this mornin’ so I didn’t get to check in with ‘er.”

“Oh, yeah, she was at the farm earlier. She’s been a real big help.”

“She doin’ alright?”

“Uh, she seems…nervous…to say the least.”

His brow furrows as his eyes meet yours. “Nervous? About what?”

You laugh awkwardly. “Are you even aware of all that she’s been through?”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?” The challenge in his voice is apparent.

“I just mean–” you stumble over your words before stopping to take a breath. You close your eyes and see Ellie’s face all over again; her features the embodiment of white noise. You’re swiftly moving into dangerous territory. But it still needs to be traversed. And there’s no going back after this.

“She’s been through a lot, Joel. One minute she’s being pushed around at some FEDRA boarding school. The next thing she knows she’s traveling across the country with the world on her shoulders. Now she’s here.” And there’s no cure, your mind whispers.

“Your point is…?”

You snap, “My point is that that’s a lot to fucking deal with, Joel.”

“She’s resilient,” he replies with an equal amount of grit.

“She’s a kid.”

He’s quiet. He can’t refute that. 

“And she saved your life,” you add.

He scoffs, “More times than I can count.”

“Don’t you think that entitles her to a little better than what you’re giving? A little more support? She’s living in that garage all alone and she’s–” His expression remains steely. Almost out of desperation, you bridge the gap between your hand and his.

“Please, tell me what happened. Why are you—”

“Don’t,” his tone is jagged and low; the growl a wounded dog gives when you step towards it. That’s when it hits you. Something about this terrifies him. And the shreds of trust leftover between you and him are the only thing keeping him from showing his teeth.

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him look that afraid. The closest memory you can grasp is one from nearly a decade before when you and Joel had strayed from the group to scavenge a nearby grocery store. You’d never been very good at checking your surroundings. You hardly saw the haggard man coming at you. But you saw the flash of his knife. Felt the blade slash the side of your arm as you struggled with him. Felt a store shelf jab you in the back.

It had taken seconds after hearing the sound of your scream pierce the air for Joel to fly over and bring the man to the ground. A guttural yell in his throat, his fist fell continually. Over and over and over until the man was audibly choking on his own blood. You heard a small, strangled please. Then there’s one final, wet thunk; the sound of his own blade being buried into his flesh.

You remember Joel’s shoulders sagging when you got back to camp with the others. His knuckles were bright red. You gently wrapped them with cloth as he squeezed your knee with his uninjured hand.

You were exhausted that night but sleep wouldn’t find you. Joel would though. Through the quiet you’d realize that Joel was the only person you trusted to do so.

He barely uttered a word for a day or so afterwards. Part of you had expected to hear him chastise you for paying such little attention; to tell you that you were lucky he’d saved your ass again. Strangely, those words never came.

The next night he stared intently at the gauze covering the cut on your arm. In the cold, dark, dead of night while everyone else slept, he was fixated on you. Something about that look of his scared you more than his judgment ever did. 

The only words he ever spoke of the incident would come out of his mouth as the fire crackled and reflected in his dark eyes, “Don’t scare me like that ever again.” That was the moment you saw how much fear this world had instilled in him. Even more, you finally understood that his love language was violence.

That’s how you start to understand why he practically snarls at you now. But it doesn’t mean you agree with it.

“You have to tell me at some point or another,” you say slowly and carefully, trying to make it clear that you mean no harm to him. “At the very least, you have to tell her. She’ll never forgive you if you don’t.”

Joel sighs. You can tell that he knows this; knows it better than anyone else in the world. He’d probably run the notion over in his mind dozens of times at that point. “I will. Just…just not now. Just—”

Though his eyes will no longer meet yours, you hope that he’s telling the truth. 

“Alright,” you reply softly.

Eyebrow raised and lips pursed, he looks skeptical. “Alright?”

“Yeah. You–” There’s so much more you wish you could say. But you doubt he’d really hear any of it. After all, he’s just as wounded and stubborn as you.  “I believe you.”

“Okay.”

[sunshineandspencer]

Coffee dates (Iridescent, Part 3)

A/N: I don’t know how to enemies to lovers, why can’t we all just be friends. Again, I haven’t seen past season 10, I don’t know how it works or who is present so if there are mistakes you can blame showrunners for making me too nervous to keep watching <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!OC.

Summary: Their last coffee date before finally getting back to the office, he’s bored and wants to find out what she’s been working on. 

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: swearing, spencer is an ass™

Parts: Pt1, Pt2, Pt4

Let me stress, this is not Maeve from the show, but my own Maeve just named the same to send Spencer into hell whenever he thinks about it.

They’re getting close to the end of his probationary period now, and the thought of getting back to the office, and back to catching psychos was intoxicating.

Sure, she enjoyed his lectures, but not nearly enough to deal with him for longer than she had to.

There’s only one of his lectures left, and yet she still finds herself completing the last assignment he gave just like all the rest. It’s due today and mostly completed, but she just wanted to tweak a few things and add some more references. Working quietly next to him in the campus cafe as always.

He’s realised before, but now that his time was coming to a close, he was properly aware of the fact that she was always working. On all their little coffee dates - he refuses to call them that, and she only does it to piss him off - between their lectures, she’s always writing.

So far that’s been perfect, because he didn’t want to talk to her unless absolutely necessary, neither did she. The two of them avoid conversation like the plague and have silent coffee dates in his breaks.

However, he has no marking left, and finished his book, he is bored and wants to annoy her.

A quick text told him that it’s paid leave for her, which he didn’t know until now but makes the fact that she actually put up with him make sense, and means that she isn’t going over casework. He’s dying to know what it is.

When he sends her off for another round of coffee, he barely even waits for her to turn the corner towards the till to reach out and snatches the page she had been writing on.

Surprise turns him cold to find that it’s his work, set in the lectures that he expected his students to complete. Not only that, but he recognises the writing style, and she had been giving in work as someone called ‘Maisie’, lying about who she is.

Of all the people attending his lecture, he certainly didn’t expect her to do the work, much less under a different name.

Especially when the writing is so.. Good.

Maeve finally came back, sitting down and sliding his coffee across to him, not even batting an eye that he had her work in his hands. Sipping her coffee and feeling the immediate bitter tang of caffeine. Setting her own mug down and shrugging at his questioning tone.

“You’re completing the work I set?”

“Yeah.”

Part of him wondered if she would try to lie, wanting to determine what he could get from profiling her if she did. Expectedly, however, expected her to tell the truth, it’s definitely on brand for her. Suck up.

“Why?”

“I’m not allowed casework when I’m with you, in case you try to involve yourself.” Glaring at him, considering they had proved Emily right by inserting himself uninvited into her work the minute he got bored and she turned her back. Cons of working with profilers, he supposes. “I needed something to do or I would’ve gone crazy. Besides, I felt like you’d want someone completing the work because they enjoy the lecture, not because they think you’re pretty.”

He stared at her for a moment, really using all 187 points of his IQ to take in what she said, then shook his head. Placing the sheet back on the pile and picking up his coffee.

“My students don’t find me attractive.”

Honestly, he’s a little offended by the way she scoffed at him.

“The room is 80% women, they don’t even pay attention half the time, they just stare at you and your hands.” His hands? Now it just feels like she’s projecting, but she doesn’t stop talking yet. “One of them didn’t even complete your last assignment. She just handed in an A4 piece of paper with her number on, it was titled ‘Call Me’.”

He remembers, and he didn’t even look at it long enough to remember the number. The past minute of conversation feels like it shouldn’t be real. Blinking softly in confusion and trying to subtly glancing down from her to his hands and then back again.

Deciding to just hum softly, as if it wasn’t actually something new to him. Picking up his coffee to finally take a sip, irritatingly perfect - God he wished she didn’t try so hard.

“And you?”

“Me?”

“You’re a woman.”

Lifting her head, the look on her face was a picture. Feeling that, had he spoken in Dutch, he probably would’ve gotten the exact same facial expression.

“Am.. I supposed to congratulate you for correctly identifying that I’m a woman?”

He scowled over at her, and that’s a lot better. Their little coffee dates over the last 30 days had been spent mostly silent aside from snide comments and scowls, she wasn’t used to all this conversation from him. So getting him back to scowling again felt like progress.

Until he leant in, a smug grin settling on her face again that she was quickly coming to hate.

“No. But~ surely, if you’ve noticed them finding me attractive, doesn’t that mean you think I’m pretty as well? Hm, little assistant?”

Thankfully, she doesn’t even miss a beat.

“I’d rather make out with a pencil sharpener than you, Doctor Reid.”

Spencer couldn’t help the scowl on his face, even though he was still very smug on the inside. She so gets off on calling him that.

But she got up, and that startled him slightly, watching as she started to pack away her work into her bag. Eyes darting to his, meeting his scowl with a smug grin of her own for managing to get back at him again. Hoping, desperately, that he doesn’t notice that she didn’t actually answer his question.

“Your last lecture is starting soon, hurry up.”

Of course she thinks he’s pretty, but that doesn’t mean she likes him. And she certainly isn’t going to admit it to his face.

Want more?! Good!

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

Protecting You Forever

(A/N- We need more comfort fanfiction about RL so I’m here to provide. Also I’m proofreading this late at night so misspelling is probably there)

RL! Bela Dimitrescu x FEM! Reader

(Warning: Mild NSFW mentions about you and Bela, partying, alcohol, swearing, sexual harassment but nothing major, BELA COMFORT)

Now playing: “Everything I Wanted” by Billie Eilish

You and Bela have been dating for a few months now but it feels like it’s been forever. Bela was perfect for you, always treating you well, taking care of you, you name it. Before dating you Bela just worked on paperwork, she had no time to have fun. It’s not like she cared though, when it comes to the school counsel what has to be done, has to be done no matter what. Then you came along and became her world.

She had promised herself that she’ll take some time off for you. To make sure that you feel loved and treasured like a priceless gem. Usually she’ll take you on dates or spend time in her dorm and it leads to other delightful things. Though today you were invited to a party by one of your good friends Angie and wanted to bring Bela along.

Bela is not the party type and she rather spend one-on-one time with you but if this party is another way to make you smile then she’ll go.

....

You’ve been at the party for about an hour now, chatting with friends and acquaintances, doing chaotic shit with Angie while Bela almost has a heart attack for y’all’s recklessness. And of course a Angie-style party is never complete without alcohol. With a bunch of drunks in a large room together stuff is bound to go down.

Everything was all good until this girl came up to you when Bela wasn’t around. At first she started some small talk asking your name and how your day’s been. It was clear that she was drunk from her movements to her speech. She was close to you, a bit too close for comfort. During your conversations she would pat your back and hit your thigh multiple times. The first few times you brushed it off and ignored it but as time went by you began to feel uncomfortable.

You could tell that the touches wasn’t just a casual friendly gesture, it had an ulterior motive to them. You can just sense it. You wondered where Bela was at, she couldn’t have gone far right?

All the sudden you hear loud footsteps coming from behind, in no time you see someone appear in front of you. It was the goddess herself, your girlfriend Bela with fury burning in her eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you. Can’t you see that she’s uncomfortable?” Bela says to the drunken woman with such hostility.

The intoxicated woman stood straight up and clenched her fists, trying to intimidate Bela. Which failed and only made her even more pissed. You quickly grabbed Bela wrist, turning her attention to you and softened her gaze a bit when she saw the discomfort in your eyes.

“Let’s get out of here, I want to leave.” You say, hoping that Bela will listen and not catch a charge for beating a bitch to a pulp.

She thinks for a moment before exhaling, turning to face the woman behind her. “If you ever fucking think about touching her again I will make sure you’ll regret it.” Bela states with pure disgust evident in her eyes. She can’t wrap her head around why someone would commit such an act like this. It’s disgustingly inhumane.

The woman huffed in annoyance before walking off, leaving the both of you. Bela turns and holds out her hand for you to hold, in which you do so and she swiftly leads you through the crowd all the way to the exit. As soon as you got outside, a breath of relief came out of your mouth.

Thankfully there wasn’t anybody close by, finally some peaceful and quiet.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.” Bela says, she wants to pull you into a tight hug but she doesn’t want to make you even more uncomfortable considering what you had just experienced.

As Bela patiently waited for a response, she saw you come closer to her and wrap your arms around her waist. “Yeah just a bit uncomfortable. I can still feel her touch linger on me, but I’m fine now that you’re here with me.” You say as you nuzzle your face into the crook of her neck.

After you spoke those words she reciprocated the hug and rubbed your back up and down in a comforting way. The two of you stayed there for a moment, enjoying each other’s warm and comforting aura, while the cool midnight breeze hits your skin.

Bela pulls away to look you in the eyes before speaking, “It’ll be practically impossible to protect you from all of the cruelty in this world, but listen to me, no matter what you experience I’ll always be here to save you from it.”

You gave her a small smile before saying a quiet thank you just above a whisper. A light blush appears across Bela’s cheeks and pulls you back into her comforting embrace, kissing your temple.

“It’s no problem, I’ll protect you forever my love.”

Masterlist

[pjisskullourful]

𝙁𝘼𝙑𝙊𝙐𝙍𝙄𝙏𝙀 𝙂𝙊𝘿

😈 Ethan × reader

18+ readers only!!!🔥 sex demon does explicit shit, a lot of explicit shit

° Ethan Torchio/female reader insert

wordcount:::: 13,519

° impeccably requested by an anon: anxious/gloomy/perpetually stressed (a med student? Stem girlie?) y/n is too busy to date and isn’t very experienced for the same reason but one day something happens and the fomo hits—her sadness, pessimism, unexplored potential is so powerful she accidentally manifests incubus!ethan ° got your own request in mind? send it here! but for more control& priority status hit me up for a commission

° lyrics stolen from cobrah

° [ITA:] cazzo: fuck

getting stronger, going harder than your favourite God ...

It was another Saturday night of sitting alone in your apartment because you had been too tired from the week to make plans. The slog of med school continued, taking up all of your time while you felt like you were no closer to leaving the student phase of your life.

Your friends had invited you to go out with them. But as much as they sang the praises of their favourite nightclub, you knew that you wouldn’t really enjoy your time at The Den. You just didn’t get clubs. You had yet to figure out where the fun was supposed to be derived from. It had only ever been an overwhelming and overpriced experience for you.

But when Amandine began texting you from the club, you did feel that little sting of regret. With nothing to do but stare at the screen of your phone, you worried what you were missing out on. You felt less secure in your decision to stay home.

if i find a guy thats your type can i give him your number? Amandine’s words appeared on your screen.

Maybe on another night you would have laughed at this strange question. But right now you were just feeling down. How do you know my type? I don’t even know my type.

But Amandine didn’t let you shake her from this unexpected goal. i’ve been shopping with you so much, i know your tastes.

Your best friend of so many years, you knew that she didn’t mean you any harm. She wanted only the best for you.

Get their Insta handles for me and I’ll judge for myself, you replied.

This didn’t threaten your sense of safety too much. You could keep yourself in your comfort zone, not treading the uncharted territory of romance unless you really wanted to.

always judging, she said back. if you’re not careful you’re gonna judge your whole life away.

You just stared at these words, completely lost on how to respond. There was no way for you to defend yourself against what was essentially the truth.

You were the least experienced of all of your friends. You were the odd one out when it came to conversations about relationships, sex or men.

You shut down any pitying sentiment by stating that you were waiting for the right guy. Some days you felt extremely patient, or you forgot about the wait.

But on other days, your insecurities would be louder, more distracting. You wondered why you weren’t following the same timeline as everyone around you. Was it because there was something wrong with you, and the perfect man had seen it and already decided to avoid you? You worried about staying a virgin for a very long time because you didn’t know how to change it, which prompted more waiting.

Your thoughts and views of yourself didn’t improve as the night wore on. Amandine started to send you usernames of the ‘talent’ she found for you amongst the crowd.

But you couldn’t see yourself with any of these men. The first one had an aesthetic combination that you couldn’t find appealing - the length of his hair, his style of glasses and facial hair reminded you of someone you had gone on a few painfully awkward dates with. The next guy looked like a fuckboy. The next one had photos of himself holding different fish he had caught. The next guy’s Instagram featured photos of him only dressed in tailored suits, with extensive captions, as if the photos were prompts for essays.

You felt nothing when you looked at these men. Maybe it would be different if you were standing in front of them. Maybe then you would be able to feel the sparks that you had been waiting for, that hadn’t been present on any of the dates you had been taken on.

You were feeling bitter as you typed a lie to your friend. You told her to give her matchmaking skills a rest because you were going to sleep. You claimed that you had an early morning shift tomorrow at the café where you worked.

You thought you knew what she was thinking about you right now, it was something she had shared with you in the past - you didn’t know what you wanted, but your standards were way too high. You were aware that you were more likely to tell your friends what you didn’t find attractive, than talk about what you did like. You couldn’t pin down exactly what your type was, only what it wasn’t.

You turned the volume of your phone off and placed it face down, not wanting to give it another second of attention. You switched off the bedside lamp and began getting comfortable in your bed.

For a while you didn’t think that you would be able to fall asleep, not when your mind was racing. You still felt bitter, making a very long list of all of the things that you were missing out on. Then you began to rank these items based on how much of your life you were likely to spend continuing to not have them.

Then you got stuck on a specific idea of how nice it would be to have the comfort of cuddling with a man right now. You had never fallen asleep in someone’s arms before. You wondered how it would feel.

You were certain that you didn’t want to do it with any of the men Amandine had deemed to be your type tonight.

But who would you want to do it with, who were your options? You wanted someone who looked like Heath Ledger, but specifically how he had looked in 10 Things I Hate About You, with long and dark hair. Or someone who looked like Johnny Depp, but only from the early ‘90’s. Or someone like Jason Momoa, but not when he was doing that tough guy angry face.

You realised you were falling asleep when you lost track of thoughts, or they just stopped making any sense. Your mind couldn’t clearly give you an image to soothe you. It was all a muddle of ideas, your emotions still running with more power than usual. But you were already drifting off, unable to do anything beyond observe these feelings.

Loneliness.

Lust.

Frustration.

Uncertainty.

Desire.

Pessimism.

*** *** ***

The first thing that your bleary eyes saw were numbers in red - 3.33. Damn, it was way too early for you to be awake.

You were so displeased by the time, focused on this and not noticing what was wrong with what you were seeing. It took a few seconds before you realised it: the numbers on your digital clock were usually green.

This made you flinch before you raised your head, starting to fully (begrudgingly) wake up. You felt disorientated, much more than usual. There was something different about this bedroom you had been inhabiting for the past three years.

Then you realised why you had stirred in the first place: someone was knocking on the front door. Even though you were hearing it with your own ears, the insistent rhythm didn’t seem real to you.

You sat up, forcing yourself to grapple with your apparent reality. You took another look at your clock, seeking greater clarity. The numbers were back to their green hue, but they still read that ridiculous hour of three in the morning.

You had no idea of who could be at your door. There were no earlier arrangements that had slipped your mind. Nor were there any past instances that you could assume this to be a repeat of.

But the person seemed determined - surely this would only come from being in the right place at the right time.

You swung your legs out of the bed. You tried to ignore the fear that was like a little pit in your gut, because it was just over-dramatics.

Valentina or Amandine or one of your sisters was pulling a surprise on you. Someone that you knew had caught you off-guard by organising a delivery from Uber Eats - your brain produced this as a solution and you found it to be logical. You also liked it because it wasn’t threatening. You attached yourself to this theory as you walked towards the front door, the fear a little easier to write off.

There were six quick knocks, then a pause would follow before another burst of six knocks came. Your movements felt automatic as you willed yourself to not put too much thought into this scenario.

You reached the door and heard six more knocks. Before you could get freaked out, you turned the knob and opened the door, the security chain stopping it only a few inches from the frame. You looked out, the light behind you illuminating the doorstep.

You didn’t see anything in the hands of this stranger. It was just some guy, lacking any kind of context. But you didn’t just shut the door again, you let him make eye-contact with you as your heart positively rushed.

He addressed you by your name, not struggling over the pronunciation for even a second and you didn’t hesitate to nod. “Can I come in?”

You started to complete the action of unlocking your door without thought, against your better judgement. Once you realised what you were doing, you were horrified and you wanted to stop. But you couldn’t make yourself stop. It was as if you were watching the actions of someone on TV, so disconnected. This brought the fear into the forefront, combined with confusion.

Once the door was fully opened, he very calmly walked into your home. He wasn’t trying to intimidate you - he didn’t rush at you or brandish any weapons.

But you thought about how close you were to the kitchen. The sharpened cooking knives were the key to defending yourself against an attack.

“You can close that, there's nobody with me.” He said and you were following through with his instruction before he had properly finished speaking.

The action happened without you realising, it was as if someone else was in control. It made you feel cold inside, but you couldn't make yourself act any differently.

You were wide-eyed staring at this man, trying to gather all of the information that was available to you. He looked to be about the same age as you, no lines on his face, which was made up of strong angles. He was clean and well put-together, dressed only in black. He didn't quite look real to you, from the intricate lace on his undershirt to the perfectly swept back long hair - it all looked too good, it didn't fit with the ordinary surroundings of your home, your reality. He carried nothing with him, he was just some guy in a leather jacket.

“Who are you?” You asked, your insides trembling as you stood opposite the broad-shouldered stranger.

“You can call me Ethan.” He said. There was nothing threatening in his tone and his accent was typical to your ears.

“Because that's your name?” You asked.

“One of them. It's the only one you need to worry about.” He said.

You were pleased to find that you could speak more - you still had some control. “But who are you? What are you doing here?”

“You summoned me.” He said simply. He was so secure and confident, certain that he was right.

“I- uh- I didn't…” You said. You watched for his reaction, hoping you weren't about to unknowingly provoke him. “I don't know who told you to come here or why. But I didn't ask you to come, oh at all. I was literally just sleeping in my bed and- uh, sorry you came all this way, but…”

“Did you manifest something?” He asked. “Maybe as you were falling asleep, just as you were slipping from one state to the other?”

“Manifestation isn't real.” You stated.

His calm demeanour didn't falter. He walked closer to you, and your gut clenched as the rest of your body froze.

He reached out and grabbed you just above the elbow, where your skin was bare. He laid his fingers on you then pinched. The twinge of discomfort was strong and immediate, making you gasp, flinching away a little.

Thankfully he didn't pinch you for long, releasing his hold and a small smile began on his lips. “That felt pretty real, huh?”

“I don’t understand.” You said.

You didn't know how to feel, it was all just adrenaline keeping you upright and alert. Were you in flight or fight?

“Yeah, they always send me to the clueless ones.” He said, backing off a couple of steps. He was still close enough that he could grab you and you didn’t doubt that he could physically overpower you. But it didn’t seem like that was about to happen.

“Could you help me to be, uh, less clueless?” You asked.

“Let’s sit down, hm? There’s really no point standing around here when you’re not about to show me the door.” He said.

He didn’t wait for approval or guidance from you, just turning and leaving from this area. He left the entryway, wandering into your lounge room and you instantly followed after him. He looked like a regular visitor to your home, there was something so natural about the way he just sat down on your couch, seeming to get comfortable at once.

“What’s next, I offer you a fuckin’ drink?” You asked, trying to make a joke to cover your unease.

“Such a good hostess. Water is fine for me, sweetie.” He said.

You turned your back on him, giving him another shred of your trust. You went into the kitchen and your first action wasn’t to go for the knife block. Instead you got a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, him calling you sweetie rang in your ears as you did so. You didn’t get anything for yourself, you couldn’t tell if you were thirsty or not.

You walked back into the living room and his dark eyes were on you immediately. His stare was so intense that it gave you a rush of heat in the depths of your gut. You had never experienced something like this before.

“Thanks.” He said. “Sit with me.”

You did it, sitting on the same couch as him. He turned to fully face you, more of that strong stare - what was he looking for?

“How did I summon you?” You asked.

“Great question.” He said. “And a great opportunity for me to find out just how sceptical you are. There’s boundaries that separate one realm from another…” You furrowed your brow. “And when you’re falling asleep those boundaries get less solid- imagine curtains and how they move and sway, things can slip through because it isn’t firm, it isn’t air-tight.

“And what slipped through was your manifesting. You weren’t tied down by reality, neither were your desires. You wished bigger than you would have if you thought for a second that anyone would hear. But desperate wishes like that- it’s what my kind are always listening for, we’re obsessed with it.

“Your wishing, or manifesting, or whatever you want to call it, slipped through to a more powerful, more mystical realm: mine.” He said. “Does that explain how you summoned me?”

It was like you had happened upon a puzzle. Several of the pieces were in place, connections formed, but the majority were scattered about in an unhelpful mess. And there wasn’t a reference image for you to know what you were working toward. But this stranger knew what the picture was supposed to be.

“Kinda. If I just put my scepticism to the side, I guess I can sort of understand what you’re trying to say.” You said.

“Good girl.” He said with an encouraging smile.

If you dropped the want to label everything as crazy, then you could proceed forward. “You said something about your kind- um, what kind is that?”

“I’m an incubus.” He said, looking amused now.

You couldn’t keep yourself from laughing, the nerves making it more high-pitched than you were used to hearing from yourself. “Alright, now I know that you’re in the wrong place, whoever told you to come here is lying to you. I didn’t summon you- why would a fuckin’ virgin summon a sex demon? You’re in the wrong house with the wrong girl, I hate to break it to you.”

You were embarrassed after saying that, silent as you sucked on the inside of your lower lip. You didn’t know why you had said it. Your absence of sexual partners wasn’t anything this stranger needed to know, but you had almost eagerly given him the information.

He didn’t have much reaction, taking a sip of water. He didn’t agree that he was in the wrong house, making no moves to get up and head for the door.

“Would you like me to act surprised that you’re a virgin?” He asked and you started to avoid his eyes, which seemed to see too much. “Because that’s what people usually do, right? They simply cannot believe it, and I see how it could catch them off-guard.

“But I already knew. You would have to work hard to surprise an incubus.” He said. “I’m in the right place, that’s why I know so much about you, darling.

“So you know a little about incubus? Enough that you didn’t need to ask for clarification.” He said.

“I’ve heard of them, I don’t know if I believe they’re real. But I’ve seen, um, stuff online.” You said.

He curiously tilted his head to the side. “Stuff?”

“Porn.” You said before you slapped a hand over your lips, your eyes growing wide. Your embarrassment skyrocketed more, you were physically uncomfortable and there was a blush in your cheeks hotter than you had ever felt before.

“It’s okay. In fact, I would say that’s a pretty common way for the word incubus to get on someone’s radar.” He said.

You gradually lowered your hand, speaking in a very small voice. “I don’t know why I said that.”

He gave your knee a pat, which felt a little condescending. “Don’t worry too much about it, baby. It’s just because I’m compelling you, it makes you more agreeable.”

“Are you controlling my mind?” You asked.

“Yes and no. The thoughts that you’re having are still your own, I can’t mess with that. It’s your actions that I’m having a kind of influence over. They must have covered this incubus talent in those very educational videos you watched.” He said teasingly, and your cheeks continued to flame. “Are you still unsure if me and my kind are real?”

You stared down at your hands, a noticeable shake in both of them. “I guess it’s- in a really weird way, it’s the most logical explanation.”

“Now you’re getting it, just go with it.” He said. “Do you know what incubus do?”

“I don’t know, you have kinky sex with people.” You said.

“We make deals. Being from a different realm and all, I can give you things that you would never be able to get for yourself. I could grant a wish for you.” He said.

You lifted your eyes slightly, getting a little closer to looking at his pleasing face again. “A wish?”

“Yeah. Well, within some limitations. I can do more than you, but I can’t do everything.” He said. “But I’ll tell you if your wish is possible or not before we do anything, darling.”

You looked up, finding the courage to meet his eye. And when you did, you began to smile for a reason that you couldn’t name. You didn’t mind how intimidated you felt, you supposed you were getting used to it.

“Do you like it when I call you that?” He asked.

You licked your lips. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Yeah, it gives you a sense of comfort, right? One that you didn’t know you needed.” He said.

He moved his hand slowly, giving you ample time to tell him to stop. But you didn’t want to, you were content to watch him place his hand on your knee, then keep it there.

“Do you wanna have kinky sex with me?” You asked.

“Very much.” He said without hesitation. “It is literally the whole reason why I’m here. Do you want to have kinky sex with me?”

You hesitated, getting overwhelmed by the possibilities. It was more than just stepping into uncharted territory. It was having to walk into uncharted territory wearing 10-inch high heels with absolutely no practice beforehand.

“I- I’m not still a virgin because of some plan, seeking virtue or anything. I don’t like the thought that I’m gonna meet someone who is so turned off by it and I don’t like feeling like my friends are pitying me every time it’s brought up.” You said, continuing this streak of sharing so much with him.

“We could so easily get rid of that label forever.” He said. “And I know that you don’t want to lose it to someone who’s going to treat you, your body and your pussy like it’s all made of glass.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t want someone who is gonna be so gentle and boring, you know? It should be significant, not basic and just missionary where I don’t learn anything.”

“You would learn so much from me, darling.” He said, easing his hand up and onto your thigh.

You swallowed. “I only want to kiss you ‘cause you're in my mind telling me that's what I wanna do.”

“No, I told you I'm not changing your thoughts.” He said. “I'm in your head to tell you that you can kiss me. But don't get ahead of yourself. I'm here to make a deal, you have to tell me what you want first.” 

“My wish?”

“Yes, and please don't bore me by asking for good grades. Make it something that's worth me coming all this way.” He said.

“Um… so I'll just say it and you'll tell me if you can, like, do it?” You asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Could you promise me success? I don't need you to give me my dream job right now, I just don't want all this hard work and shit to be for nothing.” You said, more shy to say this than some of the other exposing comments you had made to him. “I need to know that I'm not doing all this for nothing, I want to end up someplace where I'm fulfilled and-... Is that too vague, or…?”

“No, it's perfect and I can do that. I can put that into the universe for you and make sure that you get to where you wanna go, not toiling away at something beneath you.” He said. “But you have to give me your body, just for tonight, that's all I need to make your wish come true.” His hand was up quite high on your thigh now. “And if you think about it, we're taking care of two wishes: ensuring your success in the medical field and getting rid of that troublesome virginity.

“But it’s up to you, darling.” He said.

You were glad when there was a pause after this. You didn’t see yourself going through any automatic movements. It wasn’t like before where you didn’t feel the control over your body. Now you knew that you weren’t watching someone on television, this was conscious consent.

And you made the conscious effort to share it with him. There was still so much of this puzzle unsolved. The only thing you knew for sure was that this devastatingly handsome man wanted to sleep with you and holding onto that kept you from getting distracted by everything else.

You leaned forward, more of that intoxicating adrenaline fuelling you as you aimed to cross the distance between him and you. He watched you getting closer and it was so nice to know that you weren’t about to be rejected.

Your eyes went down to his lips and you weren’t thinking of the other people you had kissed before this. This would be the most significant kiss of your life.

Your eyes fluttered shut and your mouth met his. He was so warm and so firm as he instantly kissed you back. He rested each of his hands on your face and you moved closer.

You were invigorated, your heart pounding as you felt more-and-more of his body heat. You laid your open palm on his chest, feeling his hot skin through the thin, pretty material of his shirt. He tilted his head slightly and your bottom lip slipped in between both of his. As his fingers caressed your cheeks, you started to feel his tongue on your lip.

The desire was beginning to pool between your thighs, you were so aware of it. You wanted to explore everything that went with it.

He barely broke the kiss to speak. “Good girl, good fucking girl.” He kept kissing you as he wrapped a strong arm around your middle and started to ease you closer. You went with this, feeling like you could melt in his embrace. As you felt more hints of his tongue, you knew you had made the right choice - you felt ready and excited.

“Do you want me to grant your wish?” He asked.

Amongst the flurry of kisses you almost didn’t want to answer, you just wanted to experience more of his mouth. You kept close, his breath still on your face as you spoke. “Yes, please yes.”

“Are you going to do whatever I say to get it?” He asked.

“Yes, yes I will.” You said, you had never felt so willing in your whole life, with very little to hold you back.

“You’re getting this needy tone in your voice that is just so sexy.” He said, his fingertips still savouring the texture and heat of your cheek. “You aren’t like the other people I meet who just want this…” His other hand had slipped under your shirt, rubbing at the small of your back. “You need it.”

“I really do, Ethan.” You said, surprising yourself with how you could just leave shame behind.

“You don’t want anyone to be too gentle, which is fucking perfect. I’m not gonna be, you and me are gonna find every one of your limits and that’s gonna be so much fun.” He said, making you smile. “But I am gonna ease you into it, we won’t start with the most intense and feral stuff.”

You looked at the face of this stranger, not seeing anything that brought you fear, you just kept feeling more intrigued. “What are we going to start with?”

“You’re gonna show me what you can do with that mouth, show me that you’re worth being my fuck doll.” He said. “You’ve got to earn the favour of my powers. Take your clothes off, you won’t need them going forward.”

You felt a lack of confidence as you began to remove your clothes, showing him more than anyone had seen before. Maybe he thought it would help to make things more even, taking off his leather jacket. You weren’t sure if you felt less uncomfortable, but looking at his impressive arms did distract you from your insecurities. As you pushed down your pants, he reached down to take off his boots. But he didn’t make any moves to remove his shirt or pants, meanwhile you were taking your panties down.

“Be a good girl now and kneel right here.” He said, pointing to a spot on the ground in front of where he sat on the couch.

You knew the tiles were going to be cold and hard on your bare knees. But you made the move anyway. Your need to prove yourself to him dulled your other thoughts down, your perceptions not quite the same as usual. He changed how he was sitting, placing both of his feet on the floor, but leaving enough room between his legs for you to fit. You placed yourself here as he started to unbuckle his belt.

“You don’t have to be nervous, darling.” He said, opening the fly of his jeans.

Your eyes were wide, with no prior experience to guide you, all that you could think to do was stare at him. This wild encounter kept unfolding and you were as daunted as you were intrigued.

“I know you’ve never sucked a cock before, so you’re gonna start with my balls.” He said, reaching a hand into his underwear. “You’re gonna worship them, put them in your mouth, cover them with so many kisses. Then when you’ve proven that you can please me, then you’ll get my cock.”

Your mouth dropped open when his cock was out and directly in front of your face. The stiff length was bigger than the toy you kept in your nightstand. You imagined that it would be quick to overwhelm you.

“Um…” Your stomach was twisting and you wondered if your excitement had given you a false sense of your capabilities. “That’s, like, really fuckin’ big.”

“I’ll teach you how to take it.” He said. He held the shaft close to the base, while his other hand played with your hair, smoothing it at a soothing tempo. It was hard for you to know where to put your eyes - did you meet his, or were you supposed to be looking at this intimidating boner?

“Don’t forget that it isn’t your starting point. My balls are first.” He said and he changed how he held it, lifting the length so that less of his balls were hidden. “You can handle those for me, can’t you? Surely you can, in exchange for the future that you want.”

You licked your lips and began to lean in, thinking about things you had seen in dirty movies. You could remember the hunger you had felt when watching those types of videos, the curiosity so strong it felt like it could burn you. You looked at the textured skin as it got closer to your face. It was easier to not think about his shaft when you wondered what his balls would taste like.

You started with a kiss, feeling the heat on your lips at once. Then you applied another kiss and another, exploring across his scrotum slowly. More of his rich, primal scent filled your nostrils.

“Tell me, have you ever called someone Daddy before?” He asked as he put his hand to the top of your head.

You looked up at him, finding him watching you very carefully. “Only as a joke.”

His fingers were no longer just lying on your head, now they had found a hold. “That’s what you’re going to call me, but neither of us will be joking.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You replied, very eager to say it and find out how it felt. It was instantly kinky and you liked how it felt.

It seemed that he liked it too, showing you a smile that made your heart flutter. Then you felt him directing your head forward again, back into his crotch. You didn’t resist, a little less intimidated than before as you wondered if you could get more than a smile from him. The word daddy floated around in your mind and you hesitated less between kisses, your lips spending more time on his skin.

Then you started to open your mouth, pushing your tongue forward to drag along him. He gripped your head harder than before and you liked the pressure. He hummed happily and you shut your eyes, one lick promptly following another.

“Don’t be afraid to put them in your mouth.” He invited.

You pushed your face closer to his scrotum and changed how you were holding your mouth. You wrapped your lips around his sac, bringing it to rest on your tongue.

It didn’t take you long to adjust, so you soon started to move your tongue. You massaged it against what filled your mouth.

“Oh yeah, you like those balls in your mouth, don’t you dirty girl?” He said.

You didn’t want to take him out of your mouth to speak. So you tried to find a different way to agree with him. You drew your cheeks in, starting to suck. You kept working your tongue and you could feel yourself getting into a groove. You could handle this.

“Keep worshipping those fuckin’ balls.” He said.

You were starting to gain confidence - maybe you could be good at sex. The sense of accomplishment pushed you onwards and you kept rubbing your tongue on his skin, lapping keenly. He was shifting in his seat and every once in a while you felt him give his cock a single, lethargic stroke.

“I think I’m gonna make you into a great fuck doll.” He said.

Why was that your instant favourite compliment you had ever received? It made your heart do a little somersault and it prompted you to mentally notice how wet your pussy felt. It was the most erotic thing you had ever heard, affecting you so deeply.

“You’re making my balls feel so fuckin’ good. Do you feel how heavy they’re getting?” He paused to groan and your thighs tensed, your own anticipation growing. “That’s all my cum and you’re gonna get all of it. It’s gonna be a lot, you’re making my balls ache with need.”

You sucked your cheeks in a little harder and he jerked your head closer. Your nose was brought flush to his skin and he held you there, with less breathing room. You saw how easy it would be to lose yourself in his pleasure as all of your senses were dominated by him. But it was exciting as you waited for his next reaction, something you couldn’t predict.

“Okay, let’s see if you can treat the shaft just as well.” He said, pulling and moving your head away.

Your mouth was emptied and you started to open your eyes. At first your eyes went to his very close tip. Then you looked up at his face, your breath remaining short.

He curled up some strands of your hair in his fist and you didn’t dare to move. “Thank me, thank me for the privilege of getting to worship my balls, baby.”

“Thank you for the privilege of worshipping your balls, Ethan.” You said, getting all of the dirty words out and feeling like you meant them.

“You liked it, didn’t you?” He asked and you were quick to nod your head. “It’s fun making me feel good, hm? You’re gonna have fun sucking my cock too, I know it. You only think that you can’t do it. But you just have to start. So how about you start? Go ahead and give the tip a kiss, hm?”

You looked down at his cock, feeling how much you were shaking. You tried to hold onto your accomplishment of successfully playing with his scrotum - if you could do that, maybe you could do this?

He held it steady and you leaned in. The skin here already shone with a bit of moisture. You kept your lips together and your eyes open.

This skin was firmer and hotter. He gripped your hair and you cautiously gave it another kiss, then another. As your heart raced, you looked up at him and he was watching you with great interest. The rising and falling of his chest seemed to be coming in quicker.

“You look good like this.” He said and you started to linger longer between kisses, growing more familiar with how his tip felt. “And I get to see it before any man.” 

“That’s right, savour it just like you were savouring Daddy’s balls.” He said and the soothing tone in his voice helped you get comfortable. “Wrap your cute lips around the tip.”

You parted your lips, drawing the crown of his cock between them in slow and sensual kisses.

Then you contributed your tongue, sliding it in an upward motion. You saw the expression on his handsome face not change, he didn’t seem unhappy with what you were doing. And so you licked him more-and-more, the taste of his skin so intimate.

“Now suck it.” He said at the same time as he eased your head forward. “Suck it like it’s the sweetest lollipop in the world.”

About an inch of his erection moved into your mouth and you kept your mouth set around him. You relaxed your tongue beneath him and started to suck, as if you were using a girthy straw. His eyelids fluttered as he let out a shaky exhale and you felt more of that motivating pride.

“Mm-hmm, I told you you could do it.” He said and you felt him guiding your head forward again. “Don’t forget this, I am always right.”

You had started to squeeze your thighs together as you continuously got more invested in his passion.

He let you feel the firmness of his grip on your head. “Come on baby, you can take more. Your mouth isn’t a virgin anymore.”

You moved with him, completely willing to remain in his control, wanting to see what would happen next. Your curiosities and interests came before any of your current needs, they were easily overpowered.

He fit more of his shaft into your mouth, the tip pushing against the roof of your mouth. Until he readjusted so that it was pointing towards your throat’s opening. You braced yourself with your hands on his thighs as you felt your heart beating harder.

Even though your mouth was getting closer to being full, you still felt like you could manage it. You shut your eyes as you concentrated on sucking, attracting no corrections from him.

Before too long, he was jerking your head further forward again. You were surprised when your lips bumped into the hand that held his shaft steady at the base. You forgot about keeping your breathing regular momentarily.

He didn’t let you adjust to this depth. You worried that you had done something wrong as he dragged your head away. But he didn’t let his cock slide free, pulling you forward before your lips could reach his tip. He repeated this motion, guiding your mouth back-and-forth on his length.

“That’s how you make Daddy feel fuckin’ good.” He said.

Both of his hands went to the top of your head as he set into a tempo of how your lips should continue to work him up-and-down. You tried to settle into this motion, your tongue rubbing consistently on his underside.

You had never felt truly used like this before and you didn’t want to recoil from it in the slightest. Your cunt was reacting to the explicit noises that he was making. You enjoyed how straight-forward everything was and you were pleased that it seemed you were rising to meet the challenge.

“Honey, that mouth is really great. You’re off to a promising start, yes you are.” He said, different tones brought out in his voice.

The rushing adrenaline made your sense of accomplishment all the more significant and it was an addictive feeling. With no room in your head for other thoughts, there was nothing to slow down your enjoyment. You could feel moisture on your thighs as you kept them clenched together.

His fingers clenched, gathering up sections of your hair. “No more easing, you’re gonna make me come now.”

He started to direct your head faster and you felt a mild pulling on your scalp. This new tempo was relentless, there were no breaks to compose yourself and you could feel wetness spilling over your lower lip.

Even more spit spread down your chin when he struck his hips up, driving the tip into your throat. You were too surprised to keep yourself from sputtering.

Your breathing caught, and there was no gaining it back, not even when he eased off from your throat, the momentum taking him to a shallower point.

But just as quickly, he was bringing your mouth down again, filling it up without hesitation.

“You’re my dirty girl now. And that’s exactly how you’re gonna take this.” He said.

He was pulling on your hair, bringing a stinging sensation now. And it didn’t seem that he was on the verge of stopping.

It had become a legitimate effort to keep up with him now, and you weren’t sure that you were doing the best job of it. But at the very least you were keeping him in your mouth. As your lungs burnt, you understood that this was a skill, which you would need to develop.

Currently, his determination seemed to make up for your inexperience. It was all good enough to keep his dick stiff as his vigour continued.

He threw his head back for a loud moan the next time his tip pushed into your throat. “Fuck, yes. Oh fuck. I’m not going to come in your mouth. No, you’re going to wear the first load you’ve ever earned.” He stroked himself back before your head was brought down just as fast. “So when I pull out, keep your eyes shut.”

That didn’t happen straight away, instead he kept up the tempo. Your ears began to ring as his movements remained just as persistent.

Then suddenly he was dragged entirely out of your mouth, which stayed hanging open. Before you could fully register this change, you were feeling something wet hit your face. You flinched and squeezed your eyes shut even tighter. It was unlike anything you had felt before: the pronounced droplets and streaks were so hot.

He took his hands off of your head one at a time, panting out your name. You felt another rope of his cum shoot onto your left cheek, making the coverage more even.

“There you go.” He said. “You can open your eyes now.”

You did this slowly, gasping for air as reality crept back in. You settled your eyes on him as you felt some of the thick liquid give in to gravity, sliding down your skin.

He looked pleased, there weren’t any lines on his face to indicate annoyance. Maybe he was on the verge of smiling as he relaxed back on your sofa. His cock was noticeably softening, no longer demanding your attention.

He put his fingers under your chin, guiding your head back. “You’re going to thank me again, thank me for this unparalleled privilege. But you’re going to thank my cock.”

You licked your lips, tasting him even more strongly. You lowered your eyes to his shaft as you remained short on breath. “Thank you, thank you for the absolute privilege of getting covered in your cum.”

“Mm, you’re welcome, darling. I knew you had great potential.” He said. “I’m glad you like giving me pleasure, it’s so very obvious that you’re enjoying this. That’s good, that’s sexy. But just like I can tell that, I can also tell that you aren’t totally in this yet. You can call it fear or insecurities, whatever it is, something in here is holding you back…”

He tapped his finger on the centre of your forehead and you furrowed your brow. But he was speaking again before you had the chance to disagree.

“I can’t fuck you until I’ve broken you out of your mind further.” He said.

Now you didn’t know how to disagree with him because you weren’t sure what he meant. You silently watched him sit back, anxiety trickling in.

His attention left you, going to where he had laid his leather jacket out. He started to look through the pockets and you remained at his feet, unwilling to get up without instruction.

He produced one bundle of red rope, then a second. This got your interest and curiosity.

But you started to question everything you were seeing as he pulled out a long, metal rod. It was taller than him, there was no way it could have been hidden until now. It had a small, grippy-style foot at one end and he put this on the floor, resting the pole against the couch. Once he was content that it wasn’t going to fall, he went back to the jacket and soon another rod was appearing.

“Wait, wait, how are you doing that?” You asked.

This new pole looked like it was the same length as the first as he pulled it free. He glanced at you then back at the object. “Oh, right. My jacket is what you might call magic, in that I can pull almost anything out of the pockets.

“Almost anything.” He said as he rested the pole with its twin. Then he picked up the jacket and brought it even closer for you to see. But you were just as confused because it appeared to be nothing but limp leather. “I can’t get something living from it, so don’t think about asking for a bunny. I also can’t use it to produce something as big as a house or a car.

“But within those limitations, there’s a lot I can do.” He said, his hand going into the average-sized pocket and you saw the top of another rod. “It’s a little incubus trick that always keeps things easy for me.”

You watched as he pulled out more-and-more, still not fully believing your eyes. “Could I get anything from it?”

“Nope, they would work as regular pockets for you, my pretty little thing. It only works for demons, so it would do you no good to steal it for yourself.” He said in a casual tone as he got the end of this third rod free.

“I wasn’t even thinking of… what are those?” You asked.

“I’m gonna make a temporary frame.” He said as he stood up. His first action was to take down his pants and briefs, freeing his legs entirely. Then he stepped out of your personal space and started to gather up these rods. “You’re gonna learn a little something about shibari, specifically suspension shibari.”

Images you had seen online were brought to the forefront of your mind as you heard the pronunciation of this word for the first time.

You watched as he started the assembly. Towards the top of each rod was a small divot, a spot for one to securely attach to another. They fitted together with some clicks, forming the top of a triangle.

He got the apparatus standing upright, it was tall enough for him to stand under. He made adjustments to how the rubber-padded ends rested on the ground, they looked like they were evenly spaced out.

The tripod didn’t waver or wobble. You accepted what was seemingly your only option and gave him more of your trust that you weren’t about to be injured.

He collected up the rope and got to work with that. It would have been easy for you to get distracted by his nudity, your eyes moving away from the rope every so often. You tried to only look at his cock when he seemed distracted enough to not notice and your thoughts rushed with every glance.

He secured the rope around the tops of the rods with some knots, the tail of this rope freely hanging down. It remained unattached to anything because when he picked up the second bundle of rope, his attention went to you.

He beckoned for you to stand up and you hurried to do so, facing him. There was something about having your exposed body this close to him that kept you from fully catching your breath.

The rope wasn’t rough against your bare skin as he started to wind it around you, just beneath your bust. He created a band by wrapping it around you four times, tight without letting it dig into you.

This was affixed with a knot behind your back. Then he progressed to making a second band, this one going over your navel. He stood behind you as he tied more knots into the rope.

There was some length left over, which he allowed to dangle, brushing against the backs of your thighs.

He returned to the enchanted leather jacket and you saw more rope come from the pocket. He unwound this bundle as he looked you up-and-down - planning rather than judging.

“Kneel.” He said and you quickly lowered yourself down, returning your unprotected knees to the cold tiles. Even though his cock was now directly in front of your face, you endeavoured to not get caught up in just staring at it. You lifted your eyes, meeting his gaze.

“Raise your arms above your head, yep.” He said, stepping to place himself behind you. “Now reach down like you’re trying to grab the back of your neck, but on opposite sides.”

You bent your elbows and crossed one wrist over the other at the back of your head. He was completely out of your sight as he started to tie your wrists together.

To keep you from changing the position of your arms, he created a new bind. He looped the rope from your wrist to your bicep, then copied it on the other arm. He ensured its preservation by tying more firm knots. The restriction made you feel vulnerable, but that wasn’t a negative experience.

Once this was complete, he walked around to stand in front of you again. He studied you, a serious look on his face. “Any pain, pretty little thing?”

“No, it’s fine.” You said.

“Great, then I’ll keep going.” He said before lowering himself down to sit on the ground in front of you. He tapped your right leg. “Extend this leg out.”

Your centre of gravity felt off, but you managed to make this shift without falling. Then he was on you with a new length of rope, wrapping it around your thigh this time.

He created a couple of bands, then extended the end of the rope back and behind you. He moved, leaving your sight as he kneeled behind you. You tried to picture what he was doing as there was a slight tug on the rope that wrapped around your thigh. The length remained tense and soon he was attaching it to the main knot resting on your back.

“Very nice.” He said, his voice just as smooth, but less warm than before. “Stand for me.”

“Um…” 

As you placed your right foot firmly on the ground, you were already imagining yourself falling over. You pictured dark red droplets on the tiles after your nose smacked into it.

You lifted your ass and leaned your body weight forward, allowing you to move your left leg now. You got this foot set on the ground too and started to push yourself up. Cautiously, you kept your knees bent.

He watched instead of offering his assistance and you feared that you were about to be chided for taking too long. As you straightened your back, you found the rope on your thigh pulling. You brought some give to the rope by lifting your right foot from the ground, letting it hover as you found this less uncomfortable.

“How is that? Are you feeling like a helpless little bug stuck in a spiders’ web yet?” He asked.

“That’s a very appropriate way to put it, yes.” You said.

He came closer, smirking as he stood in front of you. “But that isn’t a bad thing, is it? I actually think that you don’t mind it at all.”

You tried your best to maintain steady eye contact, even as you couldn’t help swaying a little. “You’re right.”

He placed his fingers under your chin as he got closer again, his eyes briefly going down to your mouth. “Because you want to surrender to me, don’t you, dirty girl?”

Your breath was coming in much faster and you were practically counting down the seconds until he next kissed you. “Yes, I do.”

Your eyes fluttered shut and the powerful anticipation prompted you to part your lips. You were able to stop thinking about the strain in your limbs. Even when he took his hand away from you, you remained locked in your hopes.

“Over here now.”

When you opened your eyes, it was to find him standing next to the super-sized tripod. You had to twist and change your posture to walk over to him. And even then, it was more of a strange shamble across the floor.

“Stand in the centre.” He instructed.

You made more of your awkward shuffles until you were standing under the apparatus. He joined you, placing himself behind you. He was doing something to the rope harness around your chest, making adjustments that shifted it about, without compromising any of its security. He was silent as he completed his task.

Without any warning, you felt the binds tense and pull upwards. Your feet left the ground, getting higher-and-higher to the sounds of his little grunts of effort. Your stomach twisted as another aspect of bodily control was taken from you. It was thrilling (and intimidating) to see your feet dangling a few inches above the floor, all the while knowing you could do nothing to get down.

Then your right leg was yanked even higher as he pulled at the rope attached to your thigh again. Your thigh was pulled away from the other and kept like this as he kept the rope taut. He tied it to something new, the line that hung directly from the apparatus. You bent your knee, trying to settle into this unusual position. He got it all secured and then he took a few steps back, surveying his handiwork.

“Sweet girl…” He said, wandering back into your field of vision. “This suits you so much better than the whole studious virgin thing you had going on.”

Some strands of his dark hair had come loose from the bun, now framing his face. His eyes moved so thoroughly over your body as a small smile pulled at his cheek.

He nodded to himself and stepped away, going back to the couch. You watched as he picked his jacket up again, going for the magical pocket.

You were rushing with adrenaline and partially you started to think of all of the things that could go wrong - the amount of ways you could be injured wasn't getting any smaller.

When he turned around again, you saw that he held a leather paddle in his hand. “Are you ready for Daddy to break you out of your mind?”

You gulped audibly. “Yes. Yes, please.”

He walked over, letting you feel the paddle by rubbing it against your raised thigh. There was no sharpness at first. You stared back as he fixed his eyes on yours. Again, you wondered about mind control.

You lost the competition, your eyes snapping shut when he slapped the paddle onto your pubic mound. It was like a little explosion of heat - the kind of heat that felt alive because of the tingles it brought with it. As your breath caught, you tried to determine if you had enjoyed the sensation.

“Ooh, is that so sensitive? Is that just so needy, swelling with blood and getting so wet?” He asked, holding the firm toy against your pussy. “Hm, is it, honey?”

You forced your eyes open as he tapped it on your labia. “Yea- yes, I don’t think I’ve ever been this needy before in my life.”

He slapped the toy against your thigh, making you wince. “And yet, I’m going to make you even needier.”

“Thank you.”

He gave your other thigh a hit before walking around, going beyond your view again. “Now, when I first showed this to you, you probably assumed I would use it to spank your ass, hm?” You jerkily nodded your head and your answer was met with him striking your ass. “That’s what most people would do if given this…”

A series of spanks was inflicted upon each cheek, bringing a glow to your ass. It hurt more every time, keeping you paying attention to only this.

“But I’m not most people.” He said, stepping in front of you. “And I know that the fun of spanking doesn’t have to be limited to ass.”

Your eyes grew wide as he flicked the paddle up. Your body shook and your thoughts were fragmented as you tried to guess where he would hit you next.

When he whacked it against your breast, the sensation ripped right through you. Your stiff nipple hurt the most, the pain much sharper here. But it stung everywhere that the toy had hit.

This skin was still prickling when he took the paddle away, swatting your other tit. You gasped, keenly aware of the feeling of your nerves fraying.

Each of your nipples throbbed as he kept spanking, alternating from one breast to the other. There was a fire in his eyes and he didn’t appear to tire - just as impassioned each time.

Before you could reach that point where it was too much, he stopped. You were left reeling, your mind blank.

“Do you like that?” He asked.

You were gasping for air, it couldn’t be denied that you were feeling invigorated. There was a lot to enjoy about the adrenaline dominating your system. “Yes, Daddy.”

“I don’t know why I asked. I can see by this ridiculously wet pussy that you’re liking it.” He said.

You squirmed but there wasn’t any way to cover yourself. You simply had to remain exposed to him.

“I didn’t forget about it and how needy it is.” He said, putting a hand to your pussy. You wordlessly whined when you felt him push your folds back. “I’ll give it all of the attention it needs…” He slowly laid the toy against your skin. “And then some more after that.”

He struck you, the paddle hitting directly on your exposed clitoris. It was a complete shock and your heart did a somersault, then launched into your throat. You were reminded of the intensity of orgasms in that split second.

You flinched, little squeaks falling from your mouth when he repeatedly tapped it against this spot. The pleasure was fast, you knew if it were more sustained it would entirely blow your mind.

He switched back to using the toy to spank you, using a decent amount of strength each time. There wasn’t enough time between strikes for you to recover, so you remained trapped in this state of hyper-awareness and hyper-sensitivity. You weren’t forming any complete thoughts, your mind preoccupied by these grand, continuous reactions.

“Fuck.” You burst out, feeling like you could feel your heartbeat in your clitoral hood after the most recent slap.

And it wasn’t the last. You were getting intoxicated on this combination of pleasure and pain. One accelerated the other, their power never failing.

When he eased the paddle away, you continued to feel its effects. A strong heat radiating out from your cunt. It twitched and throbbed through what felt like aftershocks.

“That’s better than me just tapping this thing on your ass, hm?” He asked.

“Fuck yes, it is.” You said.

He snapped his fingers and you lifted your head a little. “Look at me now, baby.”

Amongst all of the rushing sensations, you tried to give your concentration to him. “Yes, Ethan.”

He gave you a long look. “It’s starting to look pretty empty behind those eyes.”

“Yes, Ethan.” You replied.

He continued to study your eyes, confirming something to himself. “No thoughts, no fears, no questions, no worries, no insecurities, just pleasure.”

“Am I broken out of my mind yet?” You asked.

“You tell me.”

“I…” You felt the lack of inhibitions, the lack of shame and you started nodding. “Yes Ethan, I think I am.”

“I think I agree. But there's one way to get to the truth, a taste test.” He said and your throat tightened.

He began to get lower, lining himself up with your pussy. You were holding your breath as you watched him, preemptively feeling the pleasure of what was to come next.

He maintained that intense eye contact with you as he opened his mouth. He moved closer and you felt his warm breath on this already scorching hot area. Then there was his tongue, wet and firm as it dragged along your slit.

It felt like all of the pleasure in your body finally had a place to land and it was the start of an exciting relief. He slowly dragged his tongue back-and-forth, seemingly seeing no reason to rush.

With your chest heaving, you were poised to feel him move inside. And you knew that would be the point when the pleasure exploded inside of you.

But he took his mouth off of you instead of going deeper. You froze, confused on such a deep level.

“Yeah, I think you’ve successfully been broken out of that chaotic little prison of your mind.” He said, resting his hands on your thighs as he looked up at you. “Now, do you know how to control your orgasm? If I say you aren’t allowed to come until I’m done counting down: can you do that?”

“Um, I think so.” You said.

“Only one way to find out. I’m going to count from five to zero, and when I say zero that’s the moment that you come. But not before that.” He explained.

Words failed you so you just nodded. Internally, you panicked because controlling your orgasm while you had absolutely no control over your body seemed like an impossible feat. But you had to try for him.

He lined himself up with your pussy again, half of his face disappearing from your sight. Before saying any numbers, he extended his tongue to your entrance.

It felt like a long time before he started to count. You heard five and you curled your hands into fists as you tried to steady yourself.

But the sensations kept getting more intense, thanks to his tongue quickly swirling around your entrance. He said four, then you felt his tongue move inside a little. He kept swirling at this shallow point and your tummy clenched. You heard him say three and you started to get excited for your release.

The anticipation was crushing on your chest. But when he said two, you thought you would be able to make it.

“One.” He said after slurping noisily.

You were holding your breath as he plunged his tongue inside, to thoroughly rub it against the walls of your pussy. You felt like you were ready to float away with the pleasure.

But zero didn’t come. Instead he retracted his tongue, your pussy uselessly clenching as he repositioned.

His hands went to your butt, holding each cheek as he eased them apart. You drew in a series of shaky breaths, you were so confused and unsettled.

You felt the smooth wetness of his tongue glide across your hole. This unique experience was like a jolt through your system, surprising you enough that you didn’t know how to react.

He stroked his tongue back the other way and moaned. “Mm, virgin asshole, what a rare delicacy.”

He repeatedly licked at this secret spot. When he began to ease his tongue inside, your eyes fluttered shut. It wasn’t like anything you had felt before. The pleasure was deep, but less intense - it would need to be built upon. And it seemed that was what he intended to do, finding a new way to make you float.

The paddle was brought back to your attention when he slapped it against your pussy. He spanked it onto you repeatedly, too fast for you to recover between strikes. You were rapidly climbing up to that edge again.

It was a wonderful combination. His tongue firmly in your hole felt like it could lead to an orgasm, you were floating. But the paddle hitting you made you want to explode into your orgasm. The sharp and the sensual danced together, bringing out more need.

You were given a break from the flogging. He dragged his tongue from your asshole to your pussy. Your entire body was responding as he repeated this motion, getting into a lovely rhythm. You began to think your release was possible as this consistent pleasure took you away from feeling like a person - you were becoming nothing more than a throbbing need.

“Ethan?” You feebly began. “Aren’t you gonna finish counting?”

“Hm?” He hummed as he took his mouth off of you. “I guess I hadn’t considered it.” You bit into your lower lip, hard. “Are you saying that you could come from this?”

“Ye- ah.” You were entirely shocked when he swiftly plunged his tongue into your ass again. As your whole body clenched, he resumed his licking from one hole to the other. “Yes, please. Please Daddy, please.”

He briefly interrupted his flow to speak. “You could come like this?”

“Yes, yes. Please, yes.” You whined.

He stopped licking, now repositioning so that he could stand in front of you. You stared back at him, lost of how to react, only knowing that patience was currently beyond your limited capabilities.

“No, no, not like that. I need to see your face as you’re coming. That’s the kind of stuff Daddy likes.” He said.

Even more of his hair had come free from the tie, giving you a physical representation of how all of this effort was affecting him.

“So you’re getting very close, hm?” He asked.

You nodded as you panted heavily. You were so primed that orgasming was literally all you could think about.

“You were telling me I had the wrong house. But now look at the desperate mess you’ve become.” He said, standing close enough that you could feel his body heat. “All because of me. What a spectacular transformation.”

Your wait was concluded by him spanking your pussy with the toy. Then he turned it around, freeing the handle and holding it by the paddle.

You didn’t know what he was doing, until the handle’s rounded end was applied to your cunt. He pushed it firmly against you then manoeuvred it down, touching it to your clit.

Your throat clenched as he kept it there. Maintaining the pressure, he moved it up-and-down on the hood. You were immediately moaning, dazzled by the sensations this brought.

“Where was I up to?” He wondered aloud. Then he spoke before you could answer. “Hm, I totally forgot. I guess I’ll start over- five.”

He worked the handle consistently against your clit, making you violently tremor all over. As he slowly counted, he grabbed you by your chin. In the brief seconds when you managed to open your eyes, you saw the intense way he was watching you, not missing a single reaction.

“Two.” He reached and you began to get yourself ready to let it all go.

Trying to keep the climax back felt like you were attempting to hold fire in your hands, as a safety precaution. The energy wouldn’t stay contained for long, it was too volatile for that. And as you held it, you were still getting a little burnt.

“One.” He calmly said.

“Please Ethan, please, please…” It was an effort to get these words out due to how tight your throat was clenching. But you persisted, because you needed his mercy. “Please, please, Ethan please, please.”

He didn’t say a word as he took the toy’s handle away from you. The next sound came from you - you wailed when he spanked your clit.

You thought that if he said zero in that moment, you would have been able to come as the sensations of that hit reverberated through your system. They were powerful enough to take you down.

But the number didn’t come. When you opened your eyes, you realised that you hadn’t missed him saying it. He had simply left the room without saying it.

You didn’t know where he had gone. As your thoughts raced, your breath continued to come in faster than usual.

You checked around as much as you could manage, but you could only see his belongings. Not being touched felt so much worse than any of the pain from the paddle. The absence was crueller than his excessive teasing.

You were still short on breath when he re-entered the room, with a full glass of water in hand. Even out of his presence you hadn’t been able to relax, you had found no reason to do so.

He hadn’t fixed his hair yet. He approached you, brow furrowing. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you panting like a dog?”

“I dunno, I’m not doing it on purpose. I guess I’m just too worked up to catch my breath.” You said, feeling the labour in your lungs.

“Well I don’t need you hyperventilating and passing out.” He said. “Hanging like that isn’t going to impede you from doing breathing exercises with me, is it?”

“I don’t think so.” You said.

He had a drink. “Okay, let’s slow it down. You’re going to watch me take a deep breath and you’re going to do the same. Okay, inhale…”

“But, Ethan…” You said and he frowned. “I need to come.”

“No. What you need to do is calm down and take some deep breaths.” He said.

“But I can’t calm down right now.” You said. “You don’t understand-...”

He grabbed your chin, staring you down in a serious fashion. “You can and you will. And you’ll feel better for it. Okay, inhale through your nose…”

You copied him but your inhale was shakier than his. You held your breath when he did, but you exhaled much quicker.

He started to caress his hand along the side of your face and you let yourself be comforted by this. “Stop freaking out.” He spoke slowly to keep up this tempo of breathing. “Come back to yourself, baby. And when you do, you’ll find it makes everything feel better.”

The feeling of frenzy died off from inside of you as you improved at matching his breaths. Less of your body was stinging. Overall, you felt more sane as you watched his chest expand around another deep breath.

“See? You don’t have to tell me that I was right, because I already know that.” He said. “Water?”

“Yes, please.”

He raised the glass to your lips and carefully tipped it. The water was so smooth on your scratchy throat. Added to everything else, you were properly refreshed.

He stroked your cheek. “Do you want Daddy to let you down?”

“No, thank you.”

He helped you to have another sip before he moved to place the glass down.

When he came back, he ran his hands up-and-down your sides as he stared deeply in your eyes. “Now, let’s get to that other pressing priority of yours: you need to come.”

You didn’t care that he was mocking you. You nodded.

One of his hands went to your cheek and he drew in for a kiss. There was less to distract you, allowing you to enjoy these kisses more.

“Poor little tied up thing, you are about to get so used.” He said, and this comment registered clearly in your pussy, making it flutter.

He wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed himself to your chest as he resumed kissing you. You were looking forward again. The new taste on his lips hinted at what was ahead of you.

You interrupted before he could guide his tongue between your lips. “Ethan, I’m not gonna get pregnant, am I?”

“No, I don’t make sperm. That’s a human thing, it would be totally pointless for me.” He said.

“Oh, okay.” You said.

“Don’t worry about anything.” He said, trailing his fingertips along your spine. “Just concentrate on feeling good, darling.”

He kissed you and as you kept in rhythm with him, you felt into his body more. Now that you were calmer, you could properly feel the silent communication between your bodies.

You wrapped your free leg around his waist when he began to grind against you. All of those excited tingles came rushing back in. The intimacy allowed you to return to that state of receptiveness, making the connection of your bodies feel so significant.

“Don’t be an idiot and hold your breath.” He ordered as he rubbed his dick on your slit. “Keep taking those deep breaths, as much as you can.”

You were staring at his lips as you nodded. “Okay.”

He moved his hand to your ass, gripping you here as he applied himself to you with more pressure. This firm tempo was bringing the throbbing of your pussy back at full force. Wet sounds were accompanying his movements.

“Tell me, what’s Daddy about to do?” He asked.

Your cunt was already eagerly clenching. “Take my virginity.”

“Uh-huh, and…?” He prompted.

“Give me my wish.” You said.

“That’s right. Now be a good girl and let Daddy in.”

Your attention immediately wanted to relocate from your breathing rate when you felt the head of his dick working you open. He eased the length in, making you feel a stretch different to anything experienced before. Your heart moved up into your throat again, your excitement so ready to overflow.

He moved slowly at filling you up. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a quick exhale. Lines formed on his face, showing you his determination.

“Fuck, that is really tight.” He said, puffing out another sharp breath.

You were feeling a little amazed that it was fitting inside. The pressure brought more blood pumping into this area, making you feel even more tender. As his hips gradually came closer to yours, your pussy kept adjusting to accommodate him.

He stopped before getting the entire shaft inside of you. “Cazzo, that is next-level tight and it’s so, so good. I’m definitely gonna have to come in this pussy.”

You were getting used to this feeling of fullness when he started to thrust. Between your walls, he smoothly moved himself back-and-forth. His tip massaged against you in the most intimate fashion. This brought new sensitivities to the forefront of your mind, dazzling you as they promised to take you to climax.

It didn’t take him long to establish a tempo, one plunge confidently following the next. It felt better than the teasing, now all of your tingles were lingering and reaching deeper. At the core of your being, you were getting ready to fall apart for him.

“Sweet girl, please tell me that you haven’t changed your mind, and now you want a gentle fuck.” He said.

“No.”

“That’s very good. Because it would be literally impossible for me to hold back when you feel this amazing around me.” He explained.

As he picked up the pace, you couldn’t help feeling so flattered. It was incredible (you probably wouldn’t have believed it at the start) that you could bring him to the point of losing control too. You felt even more connected to this stranger, feeling like the passion was so mutual. 

“Ethan, are you gonna do another countdown?” You asked.

“No, no more of that. I’m just gonna tell you when I want you to come. And when I say it, you better do it.” He said.

“Okay.” You said, nodding through all of the surging sensations.

You were filled with the most luxurious warmth. The tingles had been replaced by jolts - unpredictable and exciting, they accompanied you on this climb to the peak.

Eventually he could work all of his generous shaft into you, plunging straight for your sweet spot. Your tummy clenched and you were in disbelief over how marvellous it felt. It was what everything had been building towards, and it was better than anything that had come before.

It felt like your nerves were on fire, even when he was rocking his body weight back. Your efforts to keep your breath were now being painted with whines - the desperation you felt was impossible to hide.

The excitement only made the clenching of your inner-walls more powerful, an involuntary clamping around his length. This squeezing didn’t impede his momentum. Instead it added to the intensity, inspiring him to go even faster.

“Fuck, you’re getting me there, sweet girl.” He said as you twitched and kept losing more of yourself. “Are you close?”

Your body was full of earthquakes, the strongest one yet made you cry out before you could answer him. “Yes, so fucking close. Oh, ah…”

“Let it happen. Surrender it to me…” He ordered and you found the feeling of him driving into you slightly changed. There was an extra heat, something that felt like splashing. “Surrend-uh, um, oh fuck.”

This new sensation continued, allowing you to identify it as his cock unloading into you. You savoured the feeling of him marking you so deep.

He drove himself the whole way forward one last time, delivering him to your sweet spot. And he stayed there, grinding on you as you clenched up, every muscle tensing.

Then you started to rupture. On every possible level, you were overwhelmed by the pleasure.

Soon the satisfaction took you away and you transcended absolutely everything. You didn’t feel the ropes restricting you, you didn’t feel him. You could feel only bliss, like a white light guiding you.

You accepted the tiredness as it seeped in, exacerbating how weak you were. You kept your eyes shut, even as you felt your body gently being jostled around.

Before you had the chance to notice the change, you felt yourself being laid on something soft. You opened your eyes to discover that you were back in your bedroom. You could freely move your limbs about again. You were still naked, and so was the man in the room with you.

Ethan didn’t join you on the bed and you got the impression that now was the time to take your last looks at him. You curled onto your side, moving back to almost the same position you had been in when he had awoken you by knocking on the door.

“If I go into your bathroom, will I find some kind of washcloth, to get that load off of your face?” He asked, speaking with no edge to his tone.

“Yeah, it’s the last-”

He cut off your instructions before you could properly get started. “I know where it is.”

Once he was gone, you redirected your gaze to where you kept a bottle of water on the nightstand. With a tender arm, you reached out and collected it.

You got distracted before you could have a sip, your eyes going to the alarm clock’s glowing numbers. 3.33.

Assuming it was broken, you sought the second opinion of the clock on your phone. You picked up the device and activated the screen, just for it to report the exact same time. This was confusing, but you weren’t alert enough to try to figure out the how or why.

Ethan returned, a damp cloth in hand. He crouched down beside your bed and began to gently wipe at your face.

“How do you feel, honey?” He asked. His gaze was just as intense as before.

And you were blushing. “Distinctly un-virginal.”

“You just stay where you are. I don’t need you to show me to the door, or anything.” He said, working the cloth over your entire face.

“So that’s it, then?” You asked.

“Yep. I will get my shit together and just disappear into the night.” He said. “Wham, bam, you can thank me, ma’am.”

“How do I know the deal is officially done?” You asked.

“For fuck’s sake, can’t you just take my word for it? I don’t have a receipt you can keep.” He said.

“Okay.”

“We didn’t sign a contract on paper. We signed it with our bodies.” He said.

“Right, and that’s a very new concept for me. But I’ll try to remember that.” You said.

He was smirking as he finished cleaning the dried cum off of your face. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble remembering every part of this night.” He got to his feet. “Now, rest.”

You watched as he began to leave the room. Even though you knew that you had to let him go, you worried that all of the good you were feeling would go with him. “Goodbye, Ethan.”

He turned off the light on his way out and you kept watching, until he was entirely gone from your sight. You drank some water, listening to the noises of him preparing to depart. It was ending, the only way for your mood to go was down.

You heard the front door close behind him. Now the green numbers on the clock read 3.34.

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reflections from you? ---- does the suspension frame fit back into his jacket? (or does he leave it at her house?) - will she tell her friends? - did she make the right wish? - favourite nickname he called her? - will she try to summon him a second time?