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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 1 year

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How You Turn My World; Chapter 1

Your day started with chaos, and my dear, it looks like it will continue to be chaos. But only time will tell. The Underground holds many surprises in store for you.

Characters; Grim, Lilia Vanrouge, Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola

Content; Gender-neutral reader, cat shenanigans, building the plot

Content Warnings; Swearing, illusion to marijuana but there is none

Word Count; 4.6 K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Don't put my work into AI; I'll make sure you go to the Underground and don't return. Mwah mwah, kisses~

Ah, the joys of cat parenthood. Days spent cuddling your little bundle of furry joy. That’s what your friends preached. That having a feline roommate was easy and rewarding. That you would benefit by having a cute and fuzzy companion that didn’t demand much of anything. That you would love your little kitty friend like a child. Well, either your friends were liars with questionable senses of humour, or you drew the short stick when it came to choosing a furry companion. And there’s always the possibility of it being both, what with having Ace as a friend and all, but you just hoped it was just your shit luck and not that you had shit friends.

Seriously, though, what higher power did you manage to piss off to deserve the royal hobgoblin of a cat you have? He has shit and pissed in your plants on several occasions. Demolished every single curtain he laid eyes on like he had a personal vendetta against them. Stole your breakfast off your plate right as you were about to take a bite. Puked on your last pair of good white shoes, which still had stains on them because they wouldn’t come out. The cherry on top of it all though was that he insists on yowling and crying in the middle of the damn night for no good reason. Rudely awaking you from the dead of sleep because he demanded attention. With how loud he was, you were surprised that you hadn’t gotten a noise complaint from any of your neighbours… yet. But then again, you could hear the upstairs neighbours’ children screaming bloody murder every so often — what were their names, the Clovers? They were probably so used to it that they threw you a bone, or they didn’t want extra grey hairs from filing a complaint to the landlord. So maybe Grim wasn’t all that bad, but he was still a gremlin child.

“MROWWWWWW!!!!!” Ah, so tonight was no different then. Grim had decided that you needed to be woken up before even the birds started to sing, needed to be yanked out of the land of dreams. That whatever had caught the attention of his singular brain cell was more important than you recharging so you don’t accidentally say the wrong thing to your boss. Since last time you had slipped up and called him dad, even though no one in their right mind would leave him alone with a rutabaga unattended, and he went on a two-hour long monologue about how much of a kind and generous person he was for you to see him as a father figure. And your salary wasn’t high enough, nor would it ever be, to deal with his eccentric and maddening behaviour.

Maybe, just maybe, if you ignored him and stared at the ceiling long enough he would stop his caterwauling and go to sleep. “MROWWWW!!!!!” Apparently not.

Just one night, ONE NIGHT, of peace and quiet. PLEASE. But you knew that if you didn’t get up soon, he would get up on the bed and put his fluffy butt in your face… like he did last night and the night before that. Sighing, you begrudgingly got out of your cocoon of warm, fluffy, blankets, and hoped you would soon be back in them after dealing with Grim. Hopefully, he was just complaining about his food bowl not being as full as he would like it.

What was the time anyways? Three-thirty in the morning? Ugh, Grim! What did Ace say about it, ah, yes, “Primetime witching hour. Demons and all sorts of creepies” yada yada yada. But you didn’t pay any mind to him, as his annoying smug look would taunt you in your mind even though he was probably sound asleep, blissfully asleep. Something that you wanted to be doing, but woefully you were not.

Stepping out into the main living space, you shot the grey fuzzball the stink eye. “What the hell do you want? You absolute gremlin!” You hissed through gritted teeth, very much annoyed with your brat of a fur child and wanting nothing more than to crawl back to bed, hell, even the loveseat would suffice.

The offending feline just trilled at you in response, and his tail vibrated, happy that you had come out to see him. How is he so cute but so annoying? He rubbed against your legs before trotting off to one of his hidey holes, which also served as his nest of your stolen socks. He has a weird obsession with socks. But he popped back out, holding something in his mouth. Something small and fuzzy that didn’t look like any of his toys.

“Prowwww,” he dropped it at your feet as if saying that catching whatever it was, was the equivalent to paying his share of rent. Which, it was very much not.

You closed your eyes and pinched your brow. Please be one of his toys. PLEASE be one of his toys. You chanted to yourself in your mind and then opened your eyes. Unfortunately, it was not one of his toys. The small, fuzzy thing in question seemed to be a mouse or some other kind of rodent. It was too late (too early?) for this, and quite frankly you didn’t have the brain power to confirm whatever the hell it was. All you knew was that it looked like a mouse, therefore it was a mouse.

“Is this what you’ve been screaming about this whole time? A mouse,” you sighed. Shaking your head, you went to the bathroom, grabbing some paper towel so you could at least put it outside for something else to eat, or go back to nature in some other way. It was better than just being left to decompose in the communal garbage bin. When you came back out though, it was nowhere to be seen. Now, either Grim decided to eat it like a good kitty cat, or, with your luck, it was still alive and was now running amuck in your apartment.

Grim’s chattering was coming from the kitchen now, and he was up on top of the fridge. It was running amuck in your apartment, how lovely.

“Why, why, are you like this?! Get down from there!” You really didn’t have the energy for this.

Grim just blinked at you before his eyes dilated. He leapt down from his perch on the fridge and was pawing at a corner by the window. Looking down and you couldn’t make out anything on the floor. But you had the oh-so-brilliant idea to look up toward the ceiling. The ‘mouse’ was very much alive, and wasn’t a mouse at all, since it was flying around and banging itself against the corner.

“YOU CAUGHT A FUCKING BAT?!”

He had indeed caught a fucking bat. And bats were normally fine, when they were outside. Not when they’re flying around your apartment at three o’clock in the morning and your cat is losing his goddamn mind trying to catch it. So no, this was very much not fine.

The bat was about as pleased as you were with this whole situation and kept on flinging itself against the glass of the window, desperately trying to get back outside. How the hell did it get inside in the first place? That could be pondered on upon at a later time, as the first priority was getting it back outside.

“Don’t fly towards my head, bat. I’m just trying to get you back outside. You’re a nice bat, right? Nice bat, nice bat,” you whispered in a non-threatening tone. Could the flying mammal understand what you were saying? Mostly likely not. Hopefully it understood that you, unlike your cat, were trying to help and did not want some fresh bat as your late night snack tonight.

After what felt like forever fuddling with the window to open with a broom in hand, just in case the bat decided to dive bomb your head, you finally got the cursed thing open.

Grabbing Grim, who was still trying to catch the bat for a second time tonight, you got back to your bedroom and locked the door shut. You hoped that the bat would take the hint that it now had a path to freedom, but only time, and a bit of sleep, would tell. Slumping against the door frame, you sighed and looked over at Grim. He was playing with the door stop, the boing, boingg, boinggg sounds filling in the quiet. Whether it was to amuse himself, or to annoy you was a fifty-fifty bet.

Just as you were about to crawl back under the covers a string of anxiety connected in your head. Shit, did Grim get bit? DAMMIT GRIM! After leaving a somewhat desperate and tired call to your vet’s voicemail, alongside an apology for the late call (early call?), you peeked outside to see if the bat was still flying around. According to Google, the bat should be tested for rabies. You did not trust your no brain cell having fluff ball to know better than to get bit by a possibly rabid bat. But it was gone, so yet again, you were out of luck.

You had enough with today, even though it had just really begun. Pulling up the covers, you sighed in the dark warmth of your blanket cocoon. Grim was busying himself by trying to pounce on your feet, but you ignored him, falling back to sleep and hoping that the rest of your day wouldn’t bring any more shenanigans, migraines, or small flying mammals.

…

By some miracle, you managed to get Grim to the vet the very same day. Your boss agreed to let you work from home because he is ever so kind and generous… It did help that one of the other higher-ups nearly nagged off his ear upon hearing about the condition of your cat. Even through the phone you could hear it, and could only imagine the spectacle it must have been. Oh well, you had the day off and that is what mattered… but you would be lying if you said that you didn’t cough out a laugh just imagining the scene on the other side of the phone.

You were relieved, Grim on the other hand was not having it. To be fair, you did trick him into his crate with some tuna. He made his disdain known to all though by crying the entire way there. You almost felt bad for him, almost being the key word.

“You have no one to blame for this but yourself, ya know.” You huffed at him, feeling your shit sleep all too well. “Crying about it won’t help you any.”

Grim let out a pathetic little mew. His little, bright, blue eyes being the only visible part of him, which peered out miserably from the crate. Caving to the kitty manipulation, you poked your finger in as a peace offering. Grim booped his nose to your finger and then proceeded to nibble on it; such a vicious beast.

The vet visit went as well as you could hope it could, as Grim only tried to maim the vet a few times. Hey, it was an improvement from last time, as he had actually peed on them. So yes, trying to maim was vastly better than seeing your figurative child pee on the doctor. You’re pretty sure your vet didn’t go through years of schooling and thousands of dollars into debt just to get peed on by your unruly cat. But Grim was won over by the offering of that cat gogurt, his nose and stomach betraying him. Note to self, stock up on some of that stuff.

The rest of the visit went on without a hitch; he had some blood drawn, got his booster shot for rabies, and even managed to squeeze in a bonus nail trim. There was no evidence of any bite or puncture marks, so Grim by some miracle, did indeed have enough brain cells not to get bit.

“Grim will have to be watched for about forty-five days,” the vet hummed, checking Grim’s chart. “Since you don’t have any other animals it shouldn’t be too difficult to keep him in quarantine. If you see any symptoms be sure to bring him back, just in case.” They gave you a tired smile, and then turned that smile towards their cantankerous patient. “And thank you for deciding not to pee on me this time, Grim. I’m not so bad, see?”

Grim swatted at them, which was his answer to the vet’s question. In Grim’s book, the vet was that bad.

Ignoring his attitude, as you would whenever you came across a screaming toddler and exhausted parent while doing your grocery run, you turned back to your vet. “Thank you, and sorry for Grim. If it makes you feel any better, he’s just as much as a gremlin child at home as well.” At least today went better than last time.

The vet chuckled goodheartedly, “Don’t worry about it, I have more unruly patients than little Grim here.”

Damn, they have seen some shit, haven’t they? … Maybe I should, I don’t know, bring them a gift basket next time I’m in? Or maybe a gift card for a spa day or something??? You should really get them something for the amount of dry cleaning they probably needed to do.

With the visit over, and Grim having a clear bill of health, you shoved him back into his carrier with zero decorum, closing the door as fast as possible before he could escape and try to hide behind the counter like he did last time. I know your tricks, cat. Speaking of bills, the one that was waiting for you at the front desk was enough for you to point an icy glare at your unruly ward.

“You’re lucky that I love you, asshole.” And much like the vet you too got a swat as your thank you. Wonder if this is what the Clovers feel about their children? At least their kids didn’t wake them up in the middle of the night with a bat they caught… You shook your head, moving past those thoughts, and hauled your wailing cat back home.

…

...

By the time you got back to your place, it was just a little past noon. The rest of your day was wide open, and you didn’t really have anything else to do, since taking Grim to the vet was the most urgent of your tasks. Your place could benefit from some tidying, since your boss had recently been demanding more as of late and has been even less useful than he usually was… which was saying something. Seriously, how does he have his position? It was baffling. You swore you could hear his monologue playing on loop in your head whenever you thought of the man, which you tried to keep to a minimum for your own sanity… whatever little of it still remained that is.

Shaking your head to rid the annoying voice, you put on your favourite playlist and got to work. You took your time, putting away the dishes, vacuumed the main room, and even got rid of the dust on the high shelves. But your place was small, so it didn’t take very long for you to tidy up, and deep cleaning could wait for another day when you had enough energy to mentally and physically deal with that undertaking.

You knew that your email probably had a few messages, but it could wait. You weren’t on the clock and therefore didn’t have to check it. Only do the stuff you’re required to do when you get paid, it makes your downtime way more enjoyable.

But, you were bored. The cleaning helped with it, but with the majority of it done and the more intense stuff waiting for another day, you had nothing else to do. And while doom scrolling through social media may fill in the time, it too, was boring, predictable.

… There were two people though who were the exact opposite of boring and predictable. And yes, they did give you your fair share of migraines and questioning your life decisions more than you usually do, they were your best friends. And you were in need of having a movie night with them.

Opening up the group chat, you typed in a message.

| The Responsible One | You guys down for a movie night at my place tonight?

And almost immediately, Ace replied.

| Ginger, derogatory | depends | ya got fiid?

Deuce responded shortly after.

|The Responsible One | How does 6 sound?

| Mama’s Boi | 6 works for me

| The Responsible One | I took a screenshot of that btw love you Ace | Thanks Deuce for actually giving me an answer. | What FIID do you guys want?

| Ginger, derogatory | FUCK YOU | … but yeah 6 works 4 me | any is cool with me

| The Responsible One | Yes yes, fuck you too Ace | Bring your own snacks it is then | See you guys at 6!

That gave you about ninety minutes to hide your good snacks, since the last time, Ace had made himself too comfortable and ate all your fancy treats that you paid way too much for. But like they say, you deserve to ‘treat yoself’ … Ace still owed you for those snacks though. They were fucking expensive, prick.

…

Ninety minutes didn’t take very long, but you managed to hide some of the mess that you hadn’t tackled in your bedroom; it could stand to wait. And the first of your dork friends arrived right on time, count on Deuce trying to be punctual… even if he was panting like he had run a marathon to make it.

“You know,” you sighed, “you didn’t have to sprint here.” You grabbed a glass, filled it with some ice water, and handed it over to your flushed and heaving friend. Please don’t pass out on me. “It’s not a race.”

Deuce took the glass and downed it, still catching his breath. He lifted up the tote bag he was carrying, “Mom made brownies.” A series of coughs escaped him, but he gave you a bashful smile and showed off the multiple Tupperware containers filled to the brim with still warm chocolatey divineness. “Didn’t want them to get cold! Oh! She also made extra for you too!”

He is such a sweetheart… but he’s also pretty dense at times, still a sweetie though. You could have just warmed them back up in the microwave — yes, they weren’t the same as fresh from the oven, but still — you didn’t have the heart to tell Deuce that though. He looked so proud that he made it on time and that the brownies were still warm. What did you do to deserve Deuce as a friend?

“Also,” he fished around the tote bag, “I brought extra popcorn, since we ate all of yours last time.” And he pulled out an unopened bag of popcorn, the bashful smile turning bright.

Deuce took a step forward, but stopped and backpedalled, taking off his shoes. After he set them neatly by the door, he made his way to the kitchen, and set all of his assorted belongings on the meagre counter space. Once he unloaded the tasty cargo, he made his way over to your loveseat, which had seen better days, and sat down, getting comfortable.

He was looking at you, and there was a little crease in between his eyebrows. Deuce only wore that look when he was worried. “Are you feeling okay? You seem a bit… off.”

You gave him a tired smile, “Meh. Tired, stressed, not enough money. You know, the usual.” You noticed that his frown was only deepening, so you took a seat next to him and patted his shoulder. “Seriously, Deuce, I’m okay. Plus you got enough on your own plate without worrying about me. I’m going to be fine.”

Deuce pursed his lips, but let out a long sigh, accepting your answer without much fuss. You were capable of dealing with whatever it was, he knew that. You were one of the most capable, and stubborn, people that he knew. You would be fine in the end. “Whose turn is it to pick the movie this time?” He asked, stretching out, trying not to bump into you.

“Hmm, your turn actually,” you hummed. “But–”

Bzz! Bzzz! BZZZ! Someone was buzzing your door, repeatedly pushing at the button. Only one person you know did that. BZZZZZZZZ! And he wouldn’t let up until you answered the door.

Groaning, you got out of your spot and peaked through the peephole. On the other side was none other than Ace, who’s leg was bouncing and he kept on pushing your damn buzzer.

You only opened the door when he decided to lean on it, making him almost fall… almost. Maybe next time would be the day where you would see him eat dirt. “Happy you could join us on this lovely evening,” you drawl, doing a little bow.

Ace rolled his eyes at you, “Seriously? Feeling petty tonight I see.” He too took off his shoes, since the last time he wore them in and tracked in mud from outside, you made him clean it up. He learned his lesson that day, and really didn’t feel like cleaning your floor again.

You smiled at him, “Yeah, yeah I am~” You dropped the smile and went back to your comfy spot beside Deuce. “Also,” you turned around right as Ace was about to plunder your fridge. You glared at him, and he backed off, giving you a sheepish look. “Don’t even think about stealing my food, there’s popcorn and you have food at your home. Unless you want to start paying for my groceries, stick to what’s on the counter.”

Closing the fridge, Ace busied himself by making himself some popcorn, and sneaking a brownie or two in his mouth as he waited for the microwave to finish making his treat. While he was busy in the kitchen, you and Deuce were slowly going through the seemingly endless catalogue of movies.

“What are we even watching tonight? There’s no special occasion,” Ace mused, sitting on the counter, swinging his legs back and forth. “Action? Horror? Sci-fi? Perhaps,” he paused and made a kissy face, “romance?~”

You stared at him, until he dropped the kissy face. “Never do that again,” you deadpanned, turning back to the screen. “Found something?”

Deuce was hovering over a title, Labyrinth. “Can we watch this? Mom said it was one of her favourites when she was a kid.”

Ace plopped into the armchair, and started chowing down on his fresh popcorn. “Dude, your mom probs just had the hots for, uhhh, Jared? Or whatever his name is.”

You threw a pillow at him, but missed unfortunately, and Ace flipped you off. “First off, Ace, his name is Jareth not Jared. And yeah, we can watch it,” you said, stretching back and getting into prime comfortable blob position. Oh yeah, you weren’t getting back up.

Once Deuce got up and brought some snacks back in, you started the movie. And damn, these brownies are divine. You really needed to ask Ms. Spade for her recipe. The popcorn was decent, overall meh, but the brownies! THE BROWNIES!!!

You all settled down after being rationed your snacks, and you pressed play. Ace and Deuce both nearly choked on popcorn when Jareth appeared.

“WHY ARE HIS PANTS SO TIGHT?!” They both choked in unison.

You just rolled your eyes and ignored them, trying to focus on the movie. Other than you nearly having to do the Heimlich manoeuvre on the both of them, the movie continued without incident, until a certain gremlin decided to start crying right as Magic Dance began playing. Seriously Grim, must you choose the most inopportune time to act like Toby does in the movie? But that’s life with a cat.

You paused the movie and looked at Deuce. You were in prime comfortable blob mode, you weren’t getting up. Deuce patted you on the shoulder and went to go see what on Earth Grim was screaming about. Ace just continued to scarf back brownies, thank goodness you hid some away before he got here, or else you wouldn’t have any come tomorrow.

But Deuce came running back out of your room, since that was where Grim was. And you were about to question why he looked like he’d just seen a ghost when something blurred right past him; something small, fuzzy, and flying.

The damn bat is back?! Yeah, you definitely felt like you were cursed.

Now, you could either get up and deal with the bat, since Deuce was just trying to shoo it outside the window with a mop and Ace was screaming much like Grim was, or you could stay warm and comfy and hide under the blanket, pretending that this wasn’t your waking reality…

Option B was really tempting right now, to be honest. Sighing, you got up, massaged your temples to collect yourself, before arming yourself with a broom yet again. Grim has his rabies vaccine, you don’t, so you weren’t taking any chances.

“WHY IS THERE A BAT IN YOUR APARTMENT?!” Ace hissed, ducking as the bat swooped near him.

You opened the window right open, almost threatening to take it off its bearings, “Because the universe hates me, that’s why!” Was it dramatic? Yes. Did it contain a seed of truth? Yes. So that’s what you went with. Was it really an exaggeration though? In the past twenty-four hours it really felt like the universe was sending you a personal ‘Fuck You ♡ ' letter with a kiss mark on the envelope.

You and Deuce tried to work together as a team to coax the bat outside. Come on, the window is wide open. Come on bat, get your fuzzy ass out of my place.

All that was happening though, was some scene that belonged in a Three Stooges act. With Ace and Grim screeching — yes they counted as one collective unit — Deuce trying his best, but not getting anywhere, and you feeling like you were about to explode from the stress and noise. Even on an impromptu day off, you didn’t get a break, not really.

Getting whisked away by the Goblin King is looking real appealing right now. The bat swooped down close to you, and your instincts kicked in and you swung at it, making it crash land into your coffee table, right into the popcorn. And alongside the popcorn getting spilled everywhere, there was also a poof of green sparkles.

When the green sparkles subsided, there was a strange person with long black hair and red streaks, wearing something that looked straight out of a Ren Faire, and he was standing on your table. The strange man looked straight at you, and you looked back, blinking fast. Did Ms. Spade give us a different kind of brownie? Or is this actually happening?

He snapped his fingers, and you watched as he slowly disappeared into another poof of green sparkles. You were backing up, since hey there was a stranger in your place out of nowhere, but thanks to your shit luck, you tripped over your own feet, tumbling into them. And as the green poof subsided, both you, and the stranger, were nowhere to be seen. Leaving a very confused Ace, Deuce, and Grim to wonder what the hell happened to you.

And honestly? You were thinking the same. Where the FUCK am I?!

...

Tags; @busycloudy, @eynnwwyjth, @identity-theft-101, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @ryker-writes, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

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Author's Note; And I'm finally showing this to the world, after months of collecting dust in my Google Docs. I have no idea how long this fic will go on for, and the length may be dictated by how much feedback and interaction this gets, so yeah. General rating for this is Teen but might change in the future; I won't tag people if that happens though, cuz, yeah.

If you enjoyed this story, and want to read more of my stuff while I slowly work on more installments to this fic, check out my masterlist! Please ignore any spelling mistakes, I write and die with no beta.

#twst #twst x gn reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #twst grim #lilia vanrouge #deuce spade #ace trappola #there will be more x reader stuff in future chapters #soooo #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge x gn reader #loosely inspired off of labyrinth and some other fae media; but very loosely #majority of this should be original with some tie ins from the movie #i wrote like 9 K in may for this idea and haven't touched it since; it took me like a week to rewrite this 4.6 K and i deleted some stuff #don't be precious; delete your art (from drawfee)#the length of this may be dictated from how much traction and interaction it gets #gilf enjoyers rejoice #twst labyrinth au #<- kinda but not really; we shall see #to clarrify; there is nothing in the brownies; the brownies are just run of the mill brownies #will be making a masterlist for this series; just so i don't break diasomnia's sooner than the others #there's also going to be a break in fic updates in october; but more on that later #btw everything grim did; my cats have done; the 'bat' was a mouse though and not lilia vanrouge from twisted wonderland #also labyrinth gave me nightmares as a child cuz i was terrified of puppets; and i had the same reaction as adeuce at his pants #first time posting a multi-chapter fic; let's see how this goes

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morning-star-joy · 1 year

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bloodshed, crimson clover

Pairing: Joel x Doctor F!Reader

Summary: You run a small practice in the Boston QZ, willing to treat anybody who needs it. After an encounter where you save the life of Joel Miller, you form an unlikely friendship with one of the most notorious, feared men in the QZ, a reputation you didn't realize existed until you come face to face with it yourself.

Warnings: Angst. Slow build. Mutual pining & tension (unresolved). Ambiguous ending. Game!Joel. Canon-typical violence. Reader captured with mentioned physical harm, Feral Joel with descriptions of torture/murder. Vague descriptions of injury treatments (bullet wound with cauterization, cleaning glass/debris from cuts, burn wound). Reader from California & Joel calls her Cali, Reader calls Joel Texas.

Wordcount: 12.1k

A/N: I've had this idea for a while, started it and it sat in drafts, and suddenly I was hit with inspiration again this past week. Also ty @cupofjoel for letting me scream about them to you and all your support, ily!!

In his own ways, Joel Miller was a complete gentleman.

A distinctly Southern one, with a show of selective manners from his upbringing before the world went to hell, paired with a charming ruggedness that pulled your attention to him from the very first time he stumbled through your little clinic’s doors.

You were one of the few legitimately licensed Pre-Outbreak medical professionals left in the QZ, and accepted each and every sick and injured person into your tiny practice. It took a long time and care to get a place out of the view of FEDRA’s ever-looming gaze, but even then you risked the possibility of having a target painted on your back if you treated the “wrong” person.

Somebody always owed somebody else within those tall steel walls surrounding the poor semblances of a society that, in your opinion, should have been left in the dust with the rest of the world. In not discerning who you patched up, you put yourself in danger of getting on the wrong side of someone distinctly more powerful, more violent than you.

But through your diligent work over the years, you’d gained enough of a clientele for your hidden practice to remain largely untouched. There were a few instances with graffiti, but even that wasn’t too terrible—immature Fireflies pissed off that you hadn’t accepted their offer to join them, most likely new recruits trying to earn their place in the rebel ranks.

So when the rickety old doors banged open hard enough to nearly tear them off the top hinge one night, you were up on your feet and running to assist the large body that almost fell to the floor with the momentum of how they had burst in.

There was not an ounce of anxiety in your body other than the familiar adrenaline of assess the damage, stop the bleeding, prevent infection and keep them alive as you wrapped your arms around their waist, using all your strength to pull them up and direct them to one of the two old clinic beds in the dingy old room that you sanitized as best you could between patients.

That was the first thing you noticed about Joel Miller, even though you didn’t know him by name or even face yet—he was heavy. Solid muscle underneath blood-stained fabric that you began to pull away from his torso, hardly paying attention to the low timbre of his pained grunts when the cloth stuck gruesomely to the gunshot wound you finally saw once you got the shirt off.

There were no questions in your mind other than how deep was it, was there an exit wound, did it hit anything vital, not caring how he had gotten it, who had given it to him, or why they had as you paced to your instruments, only taking a moment to make sure they were clean before pulling on a pair of gloves you were running dangerously low on, hoping that they wouldn’t get too blood-soaked in the process of keeping this man alive.

Yes, you would do all you could to save him—but you still knew in the back of your mind that two pairs of gloves spent on him would risk no gloves and losing somebody else further down the line.

It wasn’t a thought you wasted the time to entertain now as you quickly got to work. There was nothing to numb the pain of the man who laid back on the clinic bed, teeth gritted and half-delirious from blood loss, not even bothering to try and say anything to you while you saved his life.

You weren’t offended. In some odd way, it was a breath of fresh air.

Most, if not all patients you treated with this kind of wound, were usually tripping over fast anxiety-fueled words trying to explain to you how they had gotten into this situation. You supposed they were hoping you wouldn’t turn them in for whatever they most likely weren’t supposed to be doing, not knowing that the only thing you truly cared about anymore was keeping as many people as you could alive in this godforsaken dystopia.

This man though, he stayed silent. Not trying to assure you of his goodwill, whether he truly had any or not. He only stared up at the dilapidated ceiling, jaw practically wired shut, maybe to keep in the low grunts and groans that rumbled from his chest, exposed from where you had to remove his denim shirt to treat the wound on his torso.

Unfortunately, you did end up having to switch to a new pair of gloves, the bleeding slowing but stubbornly refusing to stop completely. You were reaching for more of your quickly dwindling supply of gauze to keep pressing against the wound when you heard his voice clearly for the first time.

“Cauterize it.”

You looked back at him with your hand outstretched halfway to the gauze, eyes widening at the simple command that fell from the man’s chapped lips in a low drawl that rasped with pain and dehydration.

Blinking, you looked from his face that was still directed towards the ceiling down towards the wound, a frown pulling onto your lips as you glanced back towards him and began to protest, “I don’t—”

“Cauterize. It.” He repeated firmly, jaw still clenched with the words hissed out through gritted teeth.

You stiffened, not particularly enjoying being ordered to make a medical choice in your own clinic, but then his eyes met yours, filled with an intense determination that had your hand pulling back slightly from its path towards a longer process that would've hopefully let the wound heal naturally.

Then there was a slight shift in the unfathomable depth of that gaze, a fracture in walls even more impenetrable than the ones that had surrounded you for almost half a decade, and his cracked lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them in a desperate attempt for hydration before he gave a quiet murmur of, “Please.”

There was the first hint of those selective manners, emphasized with an underlying sense of unspeakable eagerness, and your face set into your own determination, nodding as you set about preparing for a practice that wasn’t your favorite, but was sometimes necessary.

Maybe this man couldn’t afford the time it would take to stop the bleeding completely, sew it up and let the wound heal on its own. Maybe there was something out there, somebody out to get him.

Or somebody he had to protect, to get home to.

That last thought is what urged you not stop even when the man grabbed the edge of the bed in a large hand, fingers curling so tight around it that you marveled if the rickety old metal would actually break under the strength of that grip. It's what spurred you to keep going even through the sharp shouts of pain muffled around the clean, rolled up washcloth you had gotten him to bite down on through the procedure.

Once the wound was forcibly closed by the red-hot metal of your sterile knife the best you could manage, you found your eyes drawn back to the man’s face, tracing the strength of his features as they relaxed a fraction from relief once the onslaught of pain from the procedure finished.

When you began the process of disinfecting the closed wound, his face had grown so blank that you worried he was on the verge of passing out, but he surprised you by placing his palms flat against the bed, pushing himself up with a loud grunt the moment you were done treating him.

“Sir—”

Any protests towards his movements you were about to make were cut short as he swung his feet over the side of the bed, placing his boots on the ground, heavy-footed and nearly collapsing when he pushed himself up and strode forward anyway, powering through the weakness you would much prefer he would sit in before trying to leave.

“Sir, I really don’t think—”

But he was shaking his head towards your attempts to get him to rest, fingers fumbling with the buttons of where blood was beginning to dry on the faded denim of his shirt, managing to get it most the way fastened back up as he took increasingly more steady steps towards the door.

What flabbergasted you the most, though, was the way he turned his head back towards you, gaze meeting yours for the second time as he muttered a gruff, “Thank you.”

The second show of those bizarre Southern gentlemanly manners, and you still didn’t have a name for him yet.

And then he was gone.

Time passed, and you allowed the mysterious man with the dark gaze and deep drawl to fade into a memory.

Like with all your patients, you spared just enough thought in the days following his treatment to hope he was alive, even though you knew that any hope to ever get confirmation of survival was fruitless. There was no way to know how much longer somebody survived if you managed to save them.

Other than making that wish of wellbeing for yet another soul, you moved on with your life.

So when the door opened one afternoon weeks later, in much worse wear now than it ever had been from the time that patient had charged through it, you were surprised to see the very same man who was the cause of it standing in your doorway when you looked up.

When you saw him, you paused halfway in rising from your squeaky old rolling stool, remembering his face even from the way his head was turned to the side, observing how the top of the door was nearly coming off its rusty hinges before turning to find you.

With a nod, he stepped further into the room, surprising you with how carefully he shut the door behind him, a direct juxtaposition to his whirlwind entrance and exit when you had treated his gunshot wound.

“Doctor,” he greeted in that same low drawl—Southern, maybe Texas, you thought somewhere in the back of your mind—as you finally rose fully from your seat, returning his nod and automatically moving towards your sparse supplies.

“Take a seat,” you said more kindly than firmly over your shoulder, not in a haste to stop him from bleeding out on your floors this time as he seemed to be relatively fine.

“Sorry?”

You paused, glancing from one of the few pairs of gloves that remained back over your shoulder to see the man staring at you with a slight furrow in his brow, a pinch of confusion on an already severe face that pronounced deep lines of age.

He didn’t seem that old—in fact, you guessed he was perhaps around your age. But then, you supposed you were both old considering the world you had survived in, and even so, there was a haunted look to the man’s intensity that spoke of his longer years, one you weren’t even sure he knew that he exuded as his presence seemed to take up the entire room and all your attention.

“Your wound,” you answered simply, gesturing towards where you remembered the gunshot you had treated to be on his torso, and he followed your gaze to look down at himself, the deep lines on his forehead relaxing a bit when you clarified, “You’re here to have it checked on, no?”

“Uh—no,” he replied, giving a slight shake of his head, his head lifting so his eyes could meet yours again. “‘M healing just fine, ma’am.”

There were the manners you had recognized the first time, more distinct this time, and they drew you a step closer towards the man, your body turning away from your small tray of supplies to face him fully for the first time.

“Oh,” you said softly, head tilting as your own brows furrowed, confused as to what had brought him back to your clinic when he had seemed so desperate to get in, get treated as quickly as possible, and get out the last time. “What brings you back, then?”

There was another flicker of something across his face, some emotion you couldn’t name before he shifted the backpack you just now realized he was wearing off of one shoulder. It slipped to his side, where he balanced it on his hip, drawing your attention to how his broad chest and large arms narrowed down to his waist as he began to rifle through it, the quick flare of some feeling in your stomach shifting to trepidation at his actions.

Oddly enough, you didn’t get blaring warning signals of danger from this man. And besides, if he was trying to rob or kill you, he was going about it in a very odd way.

“Here.” His voice was gruff as he pulled something out of his pack, and you blinked rapidly, eyes widening at the same moment your jaw dropped at the sight of what he was holding out to you.

Supplies.

Medical supplies.

Gloves and bandages and—

“Jesus Christ, is that a stethoscope?” you gasped out, reaching forward to take the items before you could stop yourself, too thrilled by the notion of getting your hands on a crucial medical tool that had eluded you for years.

“That it would be,” the man replied, but you weren’t looking at him anymore, instead unrolling the worn leather pouch to see that there was, indeed, a stethoscope inside—one that had seen better days but, oh, the ways you were going to be able to properly diagnose more patients now because of this was—

You finally paused, back stiffening as you looked back up at the stranger who had so easily handed something this precious to you, a sense of unease finally curling uncomfortably in your gut as you took a step back.

“What do you want?” you asked quietly, uncertain as to the terms of whatever arrangement was happening, even as you were now holding the items close to your chest after rolling the stethoscope back up. Unwilling to give them back, even as you were suddenly daunted by the prospect of what he might want in exchange.

He watched you shift, eyes dropping to where you were nearly hugging the supplies to yourself now, and for a moment you worried he was about to try and take them back before his lips parted and he surprised you yet again by mumbling, “To thank you.”

You blinked, taken aback by the shockingly simple sentiment. The desire to repay kindness with more kindness, despite the kind of world you both lived in.

Despite the fact that just one glance at this man—with his hard muscles and intimidating presence, the grim set of his face and the way his muscles tensed not just with the anticipation of something going wrong at any moment, but almost an eagerness that it would happen, that there would be an outlet for that tension ready to snap—would give one the impression that there wasn’t an ounce of kindness in his body.

“That’s…it?” you ask slowly, still wary, hardly able to believe that there were no strings attached. You weren’t a pessimist, but being an optimist wasn’t exactly an option either, not anymore.

But he just nodded, shifting back on the balls of his feet, hands raising with palms turned out towards you, as if to show he had nothing to take, nothing else to give other than this.

“I repay my debts, ma’am,” he uttered with a deadly seriousness in that low drawl, and this time you definitely settled on Texas as being the origin of such a smooth accent.

“Oh,” you said softly, nodding at the explanation, because now this made more sense. Kindness was a rarity, nearly nonexistent, and it wasn’t what he was showing here.

All he wanted was to repay a debt, one that you weren’t even aware existed.

Though you certainly weren’t one to complain when this was the payment.

Clutching the medical supplies tight to your chest, you reel at how saving this man from an untimely death may have just saved even more lives down the line.

You’re opening your mouth to thank him for his own thanks, but then he’s gone once again, leaving the same way he came in, with more tempered control and less chaotic storm than the first time.

You still don’t have a name.

You settle on calling him Texas.

Not that you say it to his face, or that you even see his face.

More time passes now than those few weeks in between your first two meetings with the Southern stranger. One month goes by, then two, and you once again resign him to the confines of your memories, even though the image of him is much more adamant on breaking out since the second visit.

Second and last, you reminded yourself as you disposed of a used pair of gloves after seeing off a patient, seeing his face flash in your mind’s eye as the cause of why you were able to save this life. Why you could save yet another life after this.

And it wasn’t just the gloves, but everything he had given you. There was still quite a bit of the stash left, as you were used to knowing how to make supplies last for as long as possible, dividing them and deducing who needed what the most as you saw to patients throughout your days.

You were thankful for him. Even if this was his way of settling a debt, washing his hands of you and moving on with his life, you still felt immense gratitude.

You also felt unbearable curiosity.

Every now and then, you found yourself wondering how he had gotten the supplies, and that much at that. Surely by no legal means, and none of your business at all, but you still couldn't help but wonder.

And so with the gunshot wound he had first stumbled into your life with, you tried to paint a picture of Texas in your head.

When your hands were idle, you created stories in your mind of the life he’d led that brought him from home—or where you imagined his home to be, if you were even remotely correct in dubbing him Texas—to here.

It was an embarrassing pastime, really, and you had no business entertaining anything more than a passing thought of gratitude about him. But still, you imagined.

Sometimes that imagination was of an exciting life for him, one of travel to far places that you never got to go, pretending that this was a man who had lived through better times and had many tales to tell of them. Tales to tell you, if you were being particularly delusional.

Other times, you pictured him with a life much more humble. Born and raised in the Lone Star State, probably proud to be. A family man who yelled at football, loved barbeques and beers with buddies, working a simple 9-5 until the world went to shit.

You liked that imaginary version of him. You liked thinking that Texas wasn’t too different from you, just trying to get by in the old world and the new.

So used to him staying inside of your mind, you were surprised the next time you actually saw him again.

In hindsight, you supposed you shouldn’t have been. With the scars you had seen just on his torso when you were treating his gunshot wound, you doubted this man lived an easy life now, no matter what it had been before.

It was late, well into curfew hours, but your tiny apartment was just a few streets away from your humble clinic, and you knew the best methods to get back and forth without being seen. You liked to stay as late as you could most nights, just in case somebody needed tending to at the odd hours when nobody else would be able to help.

Your eyes were growing heavy, a few persistent yawns you failed to fight off your body’s way of letting you know you were definitely pushing it, but you held on for a little longer.

And you’d be forever grateful you did, when he was the one needing tending to that night.

The loud, metallic creak of those loose hinges pulled your attention up from where you were staring absentmindedly at your small desk, and you were jumping from your stool the moment you saw him.

There was no stumbling this time, but you saw the streaks of red well, cuts across his face and arms, worn flannel shredded around the skin embedded with glass that glinted in the low, fluorescent light of your lamp that lit up the confined quarters.

“Sit,” you were saying before anything else, and you swore you heard a quiet chuckle under a pained breath as Texas moved to sink down onto a clinic bed.

“Good evening to you too,” he mumbled, and you glanced up at the unexpected humor, unsure if it was for your expense or benefit.

Nevertheless, your eyes narrowed slightly, and his mouth snapped shut then. He settled back as you pulled your tray with you, a neat array of the dwindling supplies from what he had given you waiting underneath your fingertips before you pulled on some gloves and began.

Much like the first time, the ruined shirt was removed so you could work, but the lack of the looming threat of immediate death and ample time to wonder about the man between his visits left you now with eyes that wanted to wander.

You hoped Texas couldn’t see each time your gaze flickered across his broad chest in the low light of the lamp, observing the way it illuminated his scarred skin before quickly moving your careful attention back to picking glass and debris from the series of cuts across his body, doing your best to stop more scars from finding a home there.

“Gotta stop meeting me like this, Texas,” you find the words slipping from your lips as you focused on your work, your mind not even catching up to what you had said, too focused on your work until he spoke.

“Texas?”

You pause, feeling a surge of embarrassment at what you let slip, only used to him existing inside your thoughts and not in front of you, warm flesh beneath your hands, the heat of him radiating even through the latex gloves.

Your fingers flexed from where you were bracing yourself against the center of his chest, swallowing thickly when you suddenly noticed the steady beat of his heart underneath your palm. You refocused your attention on picking another shard of broken glass from just below his collarbone, trying to gather your thoughts enough for a somewhat reasonable answer.

“I just—” You bit your cheek, struggling with what to say, a sigh held deep in your lungs before you exhaled it slowly and mumbled, “You are from Texas, aren’t you?”

Your gaze shifted up to his neck, gently cleaning the dirt from a scrape there, your new focus of attention leaving you with a perfect view of the twitch of his lips from the corner of your eye.

“Guilty.” You can feel the rumble of his voice in his chest as he mumbles the word, and you quickly lift your hand from it, not realizing that your touch had lingered there even when you had moved away from that area of his body. “Just surprised you picked up on it, s’all.”

A little smile turned up on your lips; part pleased that you had gotten it right, part embarrassed that you had even thought of it, thought of him, that much.

Quiet fell between you and Texas for a while, as you made sure the cuts on his neck were clean before finally moving up to his face.

Your eyes met with his for the first time since he had sat down that night, and it was also the first time you noticed their color.

All that time he had plagued your mind, and you realized you hadn’t even really seen the color of his eyes. You had settled on brown, but sitting closer now, you saw the green surrounding the warmer color, creating a stunning hazel that was all you could see for a moment before your gaze snapped away, the heat of embarrassment filling you again as you pulled your focus back to his cuts.

You hesitated then, one hand hovering in the air before gently gripping his chin between a thumb and forefinger, tilting his face to different angles as you treated it, a remarkably easy task when he hardly winced with each piece of glass removed, seemingly unbothered by the pain.

Once again, you were sucked into the familiarity of the focus that came with your work, and it was Texas that broke it this time, your brain taking a moment to register what he had said.

“California.”

You paused, tweezers hovering over his cheekbone, eyes meeting that hazel again to see he was watching you, and you wondered just how long he had been doing so—the whole time? Why did you hope he was?

“How’d you know?”

Texas shrugged one shoulder, and you once again forced your attention back to your work, trying to ignore the weight of his gaze on your face now that you knew it was there.

“Lucky guess,” he said in that low timbre, and you laughed softly, shaking your head as you pulled the last shard of glass from a cut above his eyebrow, eyes lingering on a scar near his temple before dropping the glass into your tin of medical waste, full of all the once painful remnants of whatever had brought him back to you tonight.

You felt like an awful person, being glad that it had brought him back to you.

Once all the cuts were properly taken care of, you leaned back with a sigh, snapping the gloves off your hands and dropping them into the rest of the medical waste. By some old habit, you patted Texas on the knee before standing, wheeling your tray away with you as you declared him free to go once again.

“It was the accent,” he says, and you pause, looking back over your shoulder as he pushes himself to his feet, and you’re reminded once again of how big the man is when he’s not sitting still while you treat him. “Your accent gave it away. Sure as hell don’t sound East Coast.”

Another laugh left your lips, curling up into a smile as you shake your head and look back towards your remaining medical supplies. Dangerously low again after tonight, but in this moment now, you found yourself not caring just yet.

“Guilty,” you repeated his own affirmation from earlier, and one glance back showed the corner of his lips turning up into a small smirk that had much larger consequences on your heart, racing now at the sight of amusement on his stoic face before you quickly looked away again.

“Long way from home, Cali,” he says slowly, and your heart skips a goddamn beat now at that drawled nickname, as if he wasn’t doing enough already.

“Same as you, huh?” you try to sound casual as you kept your gaze focused on shifting through your supplies, reorganizing them just to keep your mind busy, even as it marveled at how he hadn’t left already,

“Not nearly as much as you.”

At the continued conversation, you finally turn, seeing him bent over at the waist and rifling through the beat-up backpack full of duct-taped holes that he had brought in with him.

You see the gun tucked into the back of the waistband of his jeans then, a sight that wasn’t surprising given the injuries he’d come to you with, but your brows still furrow, mind continuing to create different stories to solve the mystery of him before he straightens up and turns back to you.

He holds out a bundle of bandages and gloves to you, and you try to hold back your excitement at the offering as much as you can, as thrilled by the promise they offered for your work as you were by the idea that he’d already had the supplies ready this time.

The idea that he’d been holding onto them for you.

Delusional, an inner voice chides you, but you smile down at the supplies anyway, rubbing a thumb across the box of gloves and sighing quietly as your mind brings forth a time long gone where you never would have thought twice about the availability of what was once such a common thing.

“It’s funny, isn’t it?” you say slowly, pondering how you had recognized his accent, attributed him to a long gone place, as he did you. “How even after all this time, we still remember those little things about a world that doesn’t exist anymore.”

He’s not looking at you anymore when you glance back up. The stoicism you had come to associate with him from just a few meetings was back, and you get the sense you had taken the rare offer of a conversation too far.

You thank him for the supplies, and he nods almost absentmindedly, seemingly half paying attention to you before he moves back towards the door, and you turn back to begin to organize your new supplies, eager to restock your workspace.

The only thing that stops you is—

“What’s your name, Cali?”

Your head lifts, body half-turning around to stare at him in shock.

Nobody has asked for your name in years.

It’s been so long since you’ve said it out loud that the syllables assigned to you at birth feel foreign in your mouth. It taunts you with a time long past, like a bad taste you have to spit out, and when you do, he repeats it back.

The way he says it is…different. He sounds it out just the same as you, but it sounds less wrong leaving his lips. He says it slowly, as if tasting each letter on his tongue, memorizing it before giving a nod and turning to leave.

“Wait.”

He does.

For some reason, he stops when you tell him to, facing the door that he himself was the sole cause of its state hanging off its hinges, something he stares purposefully at when you ask for his own name.

Texas doesn’t look back as his voice wraps around the sounds of his own name, distaste similar to yours when you gave him your own dripping from his mouth as it curves around his syllables.

You start to say it back. The name, his name, Joel leaving your lips quietly, but he’s already back out the door before you can even sound out the M of his last name.

It leaves your lips anyway, his name echoing alone in your clinic, clutching the medical supplies tight to your chest.

Somewhere buried deep in your thoughts, you ponder over the idea that, just from the sheer intensity that radiated from the man the few times you had met him, Joel Miller memorizing somebody’s name feels like irrefutable danger, like you’re in for a very short life span. It’s a feeling you ignore, an instinct you try to forget about as you recall no hostility in his eyes, the hazel sharp as shrapnel you once cleaned from his body with none of the lethality when he repeated your name back to you.

Somewhere, buried even deeper, your heart races instead at the thought that he intends to say it again.

Joel leaves, but he always comes back.

It’s never a social call. The world’s gone to shit; you don’t have the time, and you’re sure Joel doesn’t have the patience.

He shows up in your doorway when he’s injured, and leaves you with enough medical supplies to keep you going until the next time he comes along. At its core, it's a business transaction. He’s just continuing to repay a debt to you so he doesn’t owe you anything. There’s nothing fundamentally personal about it.

That doesn’t stop you from looking forward to those visits. You never know when Joel’s going to show up next, and it does more than keep you on your toes; it holds you in anticipation, keeping those daydreams in the forefront in your mind rather than the back whenever you have time to yourself now.

Because each time he comes through, he leaves you with another snapshot of himself. Another glimpse into the lives he lived once and lives now—usually the former rather than the latter, much to your surprise.

You hold every reveal of the aloof man close; purely off-hand, inconsequential things, like a love for going to the movies now rendered nonexistent, or the time he and his brother rode motorcycles cross country. Those things don’t matter anymore, but you like hearing about them. You like knowing those things about him, fitting the real pieces of him in with your imaginary ones to solve a puzzle that only existed inside your head. It fuels your imagination, spurs on your delusion.

You’re not actually sure if he realizes how much you know about him at this point, while simultaneously knowing nearly nothing about him at all. The important things, like why he keeps showing up with all those injuries, remain unknown.

Joel brings it up, just once, off-hand as you’re wrapping up his shoulder in a spot where you could tell a bullet had grazed him.

“You don’t ask.”

Your hands had paused, eyes lifting from your work to his face, glancing over his side profile before his head turned and he was looking down at you from inches away.

He was waiting for an answer, but your mind was having trouble keeping up with what he had even said, too startled by the swirling of brown and green in his eyes when they were right there. A color as warm and solid as the earth beneath your feet, grounding you to him, pulling you in with that same undeniable magnetism he had first stumbled into your life with.

His facial hair had gotten longer, dark whiskers of hair framing cracked lips, a split down the top one that you had carefully cleaned earlier. You hadn't even thought twice about it when dabbing it clean, but now you couldn’t see anything else, not until—

“Cali?”

You blinked, head snapping up as your back went ramrod straight, and you quickly turned back to where your hands had frozen mid-bandage.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“About what?” you forced the words from your lips, trying not to think about how they ached to have his own pressed to them, split lip and all molding firmly and then gently against yours—

Oh god, no, what were you thinking?

“About any of it,” Joel grumbled, waving a large hand towards his face with a vague gesture, seeming to think you had just been observing his injuries even with the way you’re now staring at thick fingers, long veins, prominent and begging to be traced—

No! Stop!

“You don’t have a policy of asking your patients questions?” he asked, arching a thick brow down at you, and you curse the way your stomach flips at the sight.

“Believe it or not, I actually have a strong one not to,” you finally answered with his shoulder now wrapped firmly, fingers grazing against the gauze before you pushed your stool away from him, gloves snapping off your hands and ignoring the ache to touch him without them. “You do what you have to in order to survive. My job is to make sure you keep surviving. Not to ask questions.”

Joel hummed, and you felt the weight of his gaze on you up until he handed you a new bundle of supplies and left again.

Sometimes, you wonder if he’s picked up anything about you in turn, the way you’ve locked away every small fragment you've learned of him. You wonder if he even cares to listen during those rare moments where you might let something about yourself, past or present, slip.

You dare to dream that he does.

Foolish.

You can almost say with certainty that Joel doesn’t realize the things about himself that you’ve picked up on. Like the movies thing—it had been revealed through slurred words at your last-ditch effort to distract him by asking him questions through a particularly painful procedure, and he had rambled in delirium about popcorn and previews for no more than half a minute before promptly passing out beneath your moving hands.

It had caused bubbling panic in the moment, but when the moment had passed and he had awoken with embarrassment about not being able to tolerate the pain, it seemed all recollection of what he had shared had disappeared.

Or maybe he was just embarrassed about that too.

You would surely never admit that the thought of the large, intimidating man even experiencing an emotion as mundane as embarrassment only endeared you to him more.

And the motorcycle trip—well, that hadn’t even been Joel’s choice in revealing.

A few years into gaining your most returning patient—“we have to get your picture on the wall,” you had jested to him about simultaneously having the best (can somehow survive a plethora of injuries) and worst (has a penchant to keep getting them) luck at one point, much to his silent judgment at your attempted joke—he had entered the clinic the same way he did upon that first meeting, and you winced at the way the door banged against the wall in the same place it'd once left a dent during that first visit from him.

A sharp disapproval at treating your humble place of work like this was on the tip of your tongue, before you saw that Joel wasn’t alone, nor was he the one currently injured.

Any questions other than those pertinent for your new patient’s survival were rapidly dismissed from crowding your fast-moving mind, the same way as always. You helped Joel set the man down, hardly even realizing he was talking, that they were both talking, until after you had snapped on your gloves and assessed the burn wound on the back of the man's forearm.

“It worked out, didn’t it?”

“Hardly,” Joel bit back, voice rough with a harsh disapproval bordering on anger, the sound of which made the hairs raise on the back of your neck as you busied yourself getting cool compresses ready. “It was goddamn stupid, is what it was. Nearly got yourself killed.”

“But it worked.”

“Tommy—”

“Lighten up, big brother,” this Tommy said while you checked his pulse and lifted his arm above his chest, and now you understood the energy filling up the entire space of the room.

There was a blood bond between the bickering men, tested by the fraying of nerves and something deeper, some unnamable tension that came from something you didn’t know, maybe wouldn’t even understand. Some after effect of the transition into this world you now lived in, something that was none of your business.

Even then, the way Tommy’s body was constantly shifting and Joel hovering over your shoulder as they kept arguing while you tried to treat the burn is what made you finally snap.

“Hey!”

The clear echo of your voice layered over the argument, and instantly broke it, both men turning down to see your narrowed gaze shifting between the two of them.

“You need to sit still because I’m not fond of breaking burn blisters, and you won’t be either,” you ordered sternly, not wavering under the attention of the man finally focused on you for the first time since coming in, before you whipped around to Joel still hovering behind you. “And you!”

For a moment, you found a bit of humor in the utterly stupefied look on the man’s face that matched that of his brother’s, before you stood from your stool so you were chest to chest with Joel.

“You need to stop breathing down my goddamn neck and let me work,” you said firmly, pointing towards the far wall, the order clear in your eyes without even having to say it at this point.

You knew Joel saw it, and to his credit all you saw was his jaw ticking, a brief flare to his nostrils before he spun on his heel, marching towards the wall to lean against it heavily. His arms crossed across his broad chest while he watched you sit and go back to cooling Tommy’s burn.

Order was regained in your clinic, and you smiled a little to yourself at having established it, before Tommy shifted forward slightly towards you and muttered conspiratorially, but not at all quietly, “No wonder you got even this hardass to like you.”

A tremor briefly overtook your fingers with the shock of the unexpected words before you flexed them, willing your grip to steady before renewing your focus on his burn injury as Joel snarled from his spot you had assigned him against the wall, “Shut the fuck up, Tommy.”

Your gaze snaps up, making sure Joel hadn’t moved, eyes narrowing when you saw he had pushed off the wall just slightly. When he notices your look, he shifts backwards, back hitting the wall again as his glare shifts off to the side, towards the loose hinges on the door now in even worse condition thanks to both Miller brothers.

There’s a chuckle from Tommy, more bristling from Joel, and the illusive taunt of hope wound tight in your chest, but nobody says anything else until you’re sending them off with the rest of your low supply of lotion that would be adequate for burn treatment, along with instructions on how to take care of the now loosely bandaged burn.

Tommy nods, thanking you when Joel snaps at him to show some manners. The younger brother leaves with a pointed look towards your door and an offhand, not unkind comment on getting it fixed, followed up quickly by an offer of doing the work himself to pay back your kindness.

Not a debt, but kindness, the exact verbiage he used himself in a Southern drawl a bit lighter, more intentionally charming than Joel’s rough allure.

Joel is still irritated, more than you’ve ever seen, but he still nods at you with a mumble of “thanks, Cali,” before following his brother as the younger man is saying “so that’s Cali!”

There's a hard smack to Tommy's shoulder to direct him away, Joel's reprimanding tone saying things you couldn’t hear before they disappear around a corner.

It was then that you decided you liked Tommy.

You like him even more when he stops by a couple weeks later to actually fix the door like he mentioned, filling your head with stories about his older brother you could have only ever dreamed of.

Because of Tommy you have reasons to giggle into your pillow that night at the thought of the two born and raised Texas boys racing across the country on motorcycles, smiling stupidly against the coarse fabric at the image of a younger Joel Miller with wind in his hair and a carefree smile on his face.

You’d only ever seen tiny twitches of those lips into halfway smirks, and so you dreamed of a time where they weren’t chapped from the smog of QZ air or split from punches to the face, but soft and pink and curling up into a real smile.

You dreamed of making him smile again.

Sometimes it takes a while for a visit from Joel.

Weeks turn into months in-between those short moments where you see his face for quick patch-ups and restocks of supplies.

Once there was about a year that passed without so much of a glimpse of him, and you had tried to settle yourself into the likely idea that he may have finally gotten himself hurt so bad he couldn’t even stumble into your clinic, when he proved your hidden, greatest fear wrong by turning up again.

He had limped through the door without a word, letting in a cold burst of snow laden air with him before it shut. A sigh of relief was exhaled from your lips, dry and chapped from the harsh winter months, and you hurried to him, slinging his arm over your shoulder as you helped him through the room to sit.

Peeling the blood caked jeans from his legs with a mumbled apology of the chill permeating your clinic this time of year, you barely got out one word out after of, “You—”

“Gotta stop meeting you like this, I know,” Joel sighed, avoiding your gaze as you settled on your stool with a familiar squeak of the old furniture, pulling on a pair of gloves you had set aside specifically for him months ago, ensuring that you’d have at least one left for him in the hopes that he could still make it back to you in one piece someday.

Even if that meant one less for someone down the line, potentially sacrificing a life for the uncertain possibility of saving somebody else.

It was unlike you.

Selfish, the inner voice of reason chides you again, as it always speaks in his presence.

And as always, you ignore it.

Your eyes flickered up from critically observing the stab wound haphazardly sewn above his knee—his own work, no doubt, and you were surprised at your frustration that he hadn’t come to you instead. You figured it must have not been an option, some reason having kept him from you, but you still fixed him with a hard look that the surly man actually shifted under, wary under the weight of your scrutiny, for whatever that was worth.

Shaking your head, you turned back to set about the process of thoroughly cleaning the wound, checking for any sign of infection and treating his body properly, because somebody had to do it if he wasn’t going to.

It wasn’t like he was reckless. Despite your visits with the man being few and far between—if they could even really be called visits in the first place—you had caught enough of a glimpse of who he was to know he was far from irrational. He wouldn’t have made it this far if he was.

Joel Miller could keep himself alive, of this you had no doubt.

But the repercussions that came with his survival, infection of the body or wounds that went deeper than that of flesh or blood, were things that you learned he merely shouldered as a consequence.

A burden you would lessen, even if all it meant was making sure one wound out of many wouldn’t fester, if he came to you with it.

It wasn’t until this one was treated and redressed, and he was pulling his pants back on while you stared down at the gloves on your hands—a pair that he had given you, that you had saved to save him, now speckled with his blood, a reminder that he was still alive but maybe just barely—and the words you had actually wanted to say when he came in, the ones that you had held back when he interrupted you, echoed through your mind again.

You scared me.

They aren’t spoken, not with words. Instead, your hand pats his knee again after his jeans are zipped up, fingers brushing against where his properly tended wound is now hidden beneath the heavy fabric.

The touch lingers, for just a second, before you’re up and moving away.

To your surprise, Joel follows.

He rifles through his backpack, and you notice a few new holes, more spots where there’s recently applied duct tape. You absentmindedly wonder why he sticks with this one. If he’s able to find and trade other sorts of goods, couldn’t he get a new backpack?

Thanks is given by reflex when he gives you the supplies, even though you know with this trade, you’re even once again. He doesn’t expect your gratitude, maybe doesn’t even want it, but there’s a sure cause for it this time as you shift through the pile to observe the weight of what you felt sitting unassuming at the bottom, but couldn't discern until you saw it.

Gloves.

Not thin latex, but heavy fabric, fitting in the palm of your freezing hand.

Not medical, but practical, even as the promise of warmth had now become a luxury.

Not for patients, but for you.

Joel had gotten this for you.

When you look back up at him, eyes wide with shock, he’s already explaining it away with a dismissive wave of his hand and gruff drawl, “Gotta keep those fingers in proper working condition, right?”

Your brow furrows then, more gratitude trapped inside your mouth as you notice something again that had lingered in your mind since he had shown up that night, something you couldn’t ignore anymore.

That this Joel in front of you now was different.

Joel had never been a beacon of warmth, but he’s never been colder.

He won’t meet your eye, doesn’t even seem bothered by his lack of ability to keep eye contact now. He’s rigid and tense, something pent-up deep inside of him, worse than ever before, and that’s when you know that whatever had happened since you saw him last had taken another piece of whatever he was. Another part of whoever you dreamed about once existing, gone.

“Hey,” you mumble, and he glances back at you, surely seeing the way your brows are knitted above eyes that put your concern on full display, just judging by the way he stiffened.

He waves another dismissive hand, looks away with arms crossed over his chest in a way that you’d seen before. It was like he was physically containing whatever emotions he was experiencing to his own body, holding them in with the flex of his muscles through his beat up winter jacket. A silent show of his strength, trying to protect himself with it, even if it couldn't stop whatever it was he was feeling.

You expect him to leave then, but his weather and time worn boots are glued to the ground, unmoving.

Eventually, he speaks, and the two words with the flat affect shake you to your core.

“Tommy’s gone.”

Fear blankets your body and sets every nerve on fire, pain flashing across your features as Joel sees it and quickly shakes his head, adding simply, nearly without emotion, “Left.”

The daunting grief at the possible death of the younger Miller brother fades, even as an emptiness remains when you softly say, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Silence fills the space, and tension with it, setting you on edge with Joel in a way you’d never felt with him before.

“Fireflies,” he finally supplies, and you nod, looking down to the winter gloves you still held tight in your grasp, even as you set the rest of your new stock down.

So that was what had happened. The last thread holding the brothers together had snapped, and Tommy had left, taking a part of Joel with him. Maybe the last part of him, of who he had once been.

No wonder the man before you was even more hardened than you had ever seen him before.

“I see,” you whisper, and neither of you says anything more after that.

Not until you look back up at his face, refocus on the familiar features, noticing a few new lines of age in the year that had passed since last seeing him, some white whiskers in the edges of his beard, and—

Your hand is reaching out before you can stop to think, gripping his chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting his face down towards you in a way similar to when you’d treated him in the past.

Maybe by reflex from those moments, he lets you do it, even as the sharp clarity of his hazel eyes meet yours in confusion.

“What’s this?” you ask, fingers hovering over the new red line of scarring across the bridge of his nose, tracing the length of it without touch.

His eyes flash, not with anger, but with an emotion you don’t recognize. He tries to pull away, but your grip tightens, keeping him in place as you wait for an answer.

“Nothin’,” he mumbles, your eyes narrowing at the evasive answer, the way his gaze shifts away.

“Texas, this isn’t—”

Joel’s hand finds yours then, thick fingers wrapping around your smaller ones to pull them away from where you were still holding his chin, and the warmth of his skin seeping into yours hits you with a jolt as you only then realize this was touch.

Skin on skin, the very thing you had been aching for, dreaming of, for years. Those thoughts of him that kept you going on lonely days and cold nights, longing for something you could never have, an impossible reality now on the edge of your fingertips as he enveloped them in a rough palm, in his touch.

Touch.

Touch you had instigated, without the barrier of medical gloves between you. Without the clear lines that defined all you were to each other—doctor and patient, business transactions, a debt repaid again and again. Lines that now blurred when he didn’t drop your hand right away.

Blurring further, obscuring your vision in a rose-tinted blush when his grip tightened, and your breath caught in your throat at the feeling of him holding on to you.

“‘Ts fine,” Joel assures quietly, your fingers finally slipping from his, the clear hazel of those eyes you had spent a year waiting and hoping to see again, not meeting yours even once.

He hasn’t looked at you even once.

Just like that, you snap from a slow motion daze back to true reality. Your fantasies hit the ground hard, leaving you shattered with the empty aches of your heart forever unfulfilled in the dark crevices of your mind.

But even then, you can’t look away.

Again, you hear the admission aching to be revealed, slipping from the back of your mind to the forefront on waves of anxiety and need that grew larger, more disastrous, crashing through all your thoughts as you watched him looking away, but not leaving.

You scared me.

The words fill your mouth, waiting to be spoken.

But they aren’t.

Even though you wanted to tell him how his absence had filled you with fear, terror that only abates whenever he’s with you until he inevitably leaves again, you don’t dare to say it. Not when he doesn’t even look at you, even though you can’t bring yourself to look away.

The only thing you do say is an assurance that you’d make it home safe when he tells you to before he’s finally gone again.

It’s the first time that you notice that each time he leaves you with a new piece of himself, he takes a piece of you with him.

“You’re scaring my patients, Texas.”

“Good.”

“Joel.”

It’s been like this since Tommy left.

Joel visits you now when he’s nothing less than the perfect picture of health.

At first, he brings you things—the usual, necessary items that keep your unsanctioned practice running. You thank him each time, albeit with puzzled looks when there’s no visible harm on his body, confusion that only furthers when he lingers.

Eventually, he drops by without anything at all. Nothing in hand, sometimes no backpack in tow, but always with that gun tucked into the back of his waistband.

For a while, you think nothing of it. You’re glad that he’s showing his face, that you’re not glancing up with baited breath each time your door creaks open, hoping for just a glimpse of the man to assure you that he was alright.

Joel lets you see often enough now that he’s still in one piece, and for a while, you’re foolish enough to think that it’s purely for the benefit of your peace of mind.

Then one day, when he’s walking out, a patient is walking in—a younger man you’ve seen more than once, treating wounds similar to those that Joel’s had, though not quite as severe.

What is severe is the look Joel instantly shoots at him as they pass by each other, your heart sinking when the injured man scurries towards the available clinic bed while the door shuts.

You try to push it out of your mind, try to ignore the way your patient keeps watching the closed door with baited breath, until he breathes out with certain trepidation, “That’s Joel Miller.”

Pausing in the middle of splinting his broken finger, your brow furrows, glancing up at the nervous scrunching of his face as you reply slowly, “Yes, it is.”

His gaze finally shifts from the door towards you, then back again quickly, like he’s afraid the mentioned man will burst through the moment he’s not looking.

“You—” A gulp, and then the shaky question of, “You know him, don’t you?”

You finish bandaging his injury, gently placing his hand back in his lap and replying honestly, even with your uncertainty lingering at his tone, “Of course I do.”

He doesn’t say anything more until he’s leaving, glancing back at you warily, seeming to struggle over what he wants to say before settling for, “He’s…he’s got a reputation, you know. Lots of folks are scared of that Joel Miller.”

With a nervous wringing of your hands behind your back, and a calm smile on your face, you assure him, “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Of course, you don’t know that Joel’s been waiting.

There’s no way to be aware that he’s been in the alley next to the clinic the entire time you treated your patient, no way to know that he trails the man the moment he leaves the safety of your building.

You’ll never know that the man you treated isn’t so good either. Or that he’s not nearly as bad as Joel.

Somebody always owed somebody else, after all. You knew it well, knew that Joel paid you back for this very reason.

But you didn’t know what happened when you owed him.

Or what happened when he went to collect.

And Joel ensured you were never getting anywhere near it.

A sentiment made clear with another broken finger for the lackey of a rival smuggler late on a payment that had sought you out for the last time that day, along with a painful promise made that he and his buddies would never step foot in your clinic again.

There was no way for you to know what happened that day, but you noticed the shift afterwards.

The way Joel takes up residence along the wall of your clinic and doesn’t leave when patients come in. How he watches them, the mere weight of his sole attention setting them on edge.

You tell them it’s fine, shoot him a glare that tells him to back off. And maybe it works for a little, but not for long.

You assure yourself that it’s fine. A reputation means nothing, and you know Joel Miller, don’t you? Or you know all that matters. And you know that there’s nothing to be afraid of.

Until there is.

You’re gone.

It’s the first time since meeting you that Joel stops by the clinic, and you’re not there.

Well into the morning, and you’re not sitting there at your little makeshift desk. At this time, you should be half-rising from your stool he’s been meaning to find a replacement for just at the sound of the door opening.

You're always ready to spring into action, to save a life or make one better. Like you’ve done for him, time and time again.

It’s also the first time since before Tommy left that the door is swinging off its hinges again, and that’s when Joel knows.

You’re gone.

He doesn’t need to see the ransacked clinic, but he looks anyway. Searches frantically through the overturned furniture, your well-organized stock of supplies now a mess, some missing because he knows how much you have of everything, he silently keeps track along with you so he knows what to pick up when he and Tess go on runs.

There’s a panic settling in his gut, a burning ache crawling its way up his throat, and his hands twitch with the need to do something, to make somebody hurt, make them pay, make them talk to bring you back.

Back to the work that is your pride and joy, the four walls that have been your safety for years, a safety you’ve only ever extended to others, one you offered to him.

Joel needs to bring you back to him.

No time is wasted when he gets back to Tess. She knows you by now, having visited the clinic herself with or without Joel, for injuries or for chats. He’s noticed his partner always smiling after, the two of you forming a kinship that warms what fragments remain of his heart like so little else can.

Tess is taking charge in a way that’s familiar, and Joel is grateful for that. He doesn’t know what he’d do if left to his own devices right now, uncertain who’d wind up dead in the streets if let loose to find you on his own terms.

But he takes solace in knowing that Tess will let him do what he does best when it's time.

And when it is time, when they’ve cornered the last person who’s had your name leave their lips, the bone of their arm shatters underneath a brutal stomp and twist of Joel’s heavy boot after a series of ruthless hits that have left them begging for mercy on the ground.

But it gets them what they need—a location, information on a deal gone south for a specific kind of medicine that these smugglers had a monopoly on, medicine you most likely needed to save one patient, and deemed it a risk worth taking just for that.

Smugglers that Joel had very specifically warned to stay the fuck away from you.

The whimpering man under his boot gets a bullet to the head for not heeding his warning, for taking you from him, and they’re on their way without another word.

Fear burns so hot that it singes his veins, making him move faster, hit harder when they get to the warehouse. Red is all he sees and it’s all he feels, running through his fingers as he pulls triggers and chokes windpipes before twisting, snapping. Blood, hot and metallic, staining his skin in splatters up to his forearms as he moves from one to the next.

Joel has lost too much to make it quick, and the thought of losing you too only adds to his rage, making his preemptive vengeance all the more deadly. He lays waste to them all, sparing not a soul of his brutality.

His shiv sinks into a neck, and he leaves it there for too long before pulling it out, leaving a streak of evidence of another life he’s stolen across his face as he turns, more than ready for the next one.

Movement catches the corner of his eye, and he’s lifting his gun towards where he sees legs pushing against the ground, a body scuttling away into a corner out of his sight, cowering behind a tower of boxes.

Joel’s finger is already on the trigger before he sees the shoes peeking out behind the cardboard, the tips of well-worn sneakers that he knows well, having seen them turn and move quickly around one tiny room for years.

Relief doesn’t rush to him yet, not until he’s rounded the boxes, not until he really sees you.

There’s an angry purple bruise forming along your jaw, and fury burns hotter, seeping through the edges of sweet relief that you’re okay, although injured.

You whimper, and his heart breaks, reaching out a hand towards you to help you up, to bring you back to him.

At the movement, you press your back against the wall, cowering away even further as your eyes fix onto his face.

Joel’s brow furrows, anger and relief both ebbing away slowly, and he says your name, holding his palm out further for you to take.

You whimper again.

Eyes wide and clouded with fear, lip quivering as you shrink away from the hand that he had stained with blood again and again to find you, to bring you back.

Above where your back is pressed to the wall, there is a line of windows. They offer a view to the first floor of the warehouse, now littered with bodies he had left, a clear trail of evidence of his path of destruction from the moment he had entered the building.

And that’s when Joel realizes you’re afraid of him.

The worst part is, he’s not surprised, not even in the slightest.

On the contrary, he thinks some part of him had been waiting for this. Waiting for you to finally open your eyes and see him for what he is.

Someone like you, who has spent her whole life patching up the kind of wounds he inflicts, who saves lives and gives while all he does is takes and takes, by his own choice or some kind of curse—of course you’re afraid.

Joel’s bloodstained fingers twitch, remembering the softness of your own the one and only time he had held them that cold winter night. His hand hovers in the air halfway to you, yearning to comfort a hand that heals with one that only knows how to kill.

But then you flinch at the twitch of his fingers, having witnessed their deadliness, and he pulls back.

When Tess arrives a moment later, you turn to her, allowing the other woman to pull you to your feet. You lean heavily on her as she helps you leave, takes you back, but not to him.

Because Joel knows now with certainty that it's a distance that was never meant to be closed.

He knows it's for the better.

Weeks turn into months once again.

Joel doesn’t come back.

As time passes, you reflect on the man you’d known, and the one everybody else knew. You compare the image of those half-smirks that you always hoped would turn into a smile to the face splattered with blood as he ruthlessly murdered any man in his path.

You feel like a fool. For more reason than one, but mostly because you knew.

You had seen the signs of just who Joel Miller was from the first time you met him, signs that you had ignored every time they lit up right in front of your face, blaring signals that you replaced with the naïve images you had created in your mind’s eye. Fantasies of a man that may have existed once, long ago, but not anymore.

It wasn’t the killing that bothered you. You knew what people had to do to survive, and you had always known just from his injuries that this was an indisputable truth heavily ingrained in Joel’s life, no matter who you imagined him to be before.

No, it wasn’t the killing that scared you, but the slaughter.

What you were afraid of was his lack of mercy. His lethality. His intent to make them suffer.

After days of being held at the whims of dangerous men, only to discover that the only man you had come to consider a safe space in years was just as, if not more dangerous than them…

It rattled you.

Changed you.

Left a scar that even you didn’t know how to heal.

In the days that followed, you were glad that Joel kept his distance. You needed time to recover, to process what you had gone through, what you’d seen.

After a few weeks passed, you found yourself staring at the door, waiting once again for him to come back. Waiting to talk to him for once, to say the words that had plagued your mind once again. Even if they had shifted, they still rang true.

You scared me.

Because he did.

Joel Miller himself scared you, and you didn’t want him to.

Because you knew, you knew, that he’d done it for you. He'd done it to save you.

He’d saved you the same way you saved him, in the only way that he knew how.

Maybe it was senseless. Maybe it was wrong, and horrible, and unforgivable.

But he had done it for you.

So you wait for Joel to come back.

Months fade into years; one, and then two, then five and still counting.

Joel Miller never comes back.

At some point, you hear that he’s gone. Left the QZ completely with Tess at his side and never looked back.

You hope that they made it, wherever they were going.

You hope that he doesn’t think of you the way that you think of him. The image of him plaguing your mind every night, broken memories of everything you had memorized about him constantly shifting through your mind, a lonely ache filling in your heart that you knew was your own fault.

He had bloodied his knuckles for you, and you had turned away.

God, you hated yourself for turning away.

You missed him, with every breath, with every moment the door of your clinic opened and you glanced up with the automatic reflex of hoping it was him, even though he was long gone.

You know it's for the better.

Joel is not supposed to be here.

Any form of radio communication is strictly forbidden. He knows this well, knows that if he’s found here, he could be risking everything, even if his brother is married to the woman who keeps Jackson up and running smoothly.

But he’s here anyway, hands trembling with the cold and something else, something that settles deeper into his bones as he holds the microphone in hand.

Waiting.

It’s his second time up here in a week, and though he’d been lucky enough to not be caught the first time, he wasn’t an optimist.

You’re a cynic, a voice echoes in the back of his head, and his eyes flutter shut with the image of you that never seemed to quite leave him, even with the years that have gone by.

But you’re not, his own voice, younger, replies to you in his memories.

I try not to be, you replied honestly, one of your first discussions when you had begun to settle into each other’s presence. Don’t think I could keep doing this if I was.

Joel’s gaze darts down to the small notepad he had brought with him, the pages where he had written one message only to cross it out, rewrite it, and torn pages of it to throw away in frustration.

In front of him was the one left uncrossed, his eyes scanning the words he could only hope had gotten relayed to you, the message he had left for the black market radio specialist in Boston earlier that week.

Found a nice place that could use a doctor, followed by a date and time for a conversation, not wanting to air Jackson’s location without hearing confirmation from you yourself.

Following that sentence, another one, the last thing he had said: they could use you.

And another, crossed out after, the last thing that he would never say: I could use you.

Joel’s head lifts when the static on the old machine clears, a click resounding through the speakers of the radio, and his heart races with the weight of the microphone in his hands.

It’s lifted halfway to his mouth before he hesitates. Your name hangs heavy in his mouth, syllables he had not sounded out in years, but when he finally says it, it feels…natural. Like not a day has passed since the letters of your name were hanging on his lips, the way he always longed for you to be.

There is a pause, long and heavy, and Joel feels his heart sink with every second that passes.

This was stupid. So incredibly stupid.

The last time he had seen you, there was fear in your eyes. Fear of him, well-placed at that, and surely he had taken up no voluntary thoughts of yours ever since other than your worst nightmares.

Surely you were—

“...Hey there, Texas.”

When your voice crackles to life through the speaker, Joel sighs, a sound filled with relief and a rush of longing he thought his mind had forgotten, but his body—no, his soul—had not.

And then a whisper, softly in return, with a smile on his lips.

“Howdy, Cali.”

taglist: @darkroastjoel @thetriumphantpanda @dinsdjrn @cavillscurls @tightjeansjavi @dissentientss @harriedandharassed @ladyfiery47 (tag won't work!)

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot

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z3rinn · 10 months

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# #. FIRST DATE !!

featuring: heartslaybul - octavinelle !! it looks as if they've finally mustered up the courage to ask you out on a date !! but before they can start celebrating, they suddenly remember- there's still so much to do !! figuring out outfits, making good impressions, and most importantly- figuring out where to go! so, where do they take you out for your first date?

I think ive been reading too many shoujo manga / manhwa- but can you blame me?? also love songs are just AAAA !! especially Indian songs. desi songs and movies in general are usually so romantic!! And they give great ideas! anyway, hope you all enjoy this !!

# #. RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Riddle's idea of a first date is probably teaching you all the queen of hearts rules while drinking tea or something. Luckily, Cater or Trey butt in- telling him that a study session probably isn't the best idea. Especially since the two of you already meet up a few times per week to do just that. Riddle eventually agrees, he should give you a memorable and exciting experience, one that the two of you could learn from. So what better than a library date ?

Riddle waits near the dark mirror for you, a blank look on his face as he thinks to himself. This was his first ever date. A date that he could only pray went right. Of course, being the absolute perfect housewarden there was, Riddle researched on what to do for a date and how to go about it. His room was filled with books and papers, all holding some type of romantic content in them; mainly ‘shoujo’ manga, a genre Cater suggested. They gave a great insight on how certain dates were supposed to go, including this library date he was trying to accomplish.

The sound of footsteps snaps Riddle out of his daze, and he quickly turns, only to find you standing before him. And when I say his face flushes, it flushes. If possible, he’s even redder than his hair, eyes wide and mouth agape as he stares. How could you get even more beautiful? Riddle’s and absolute flustered mess as he makes eye contact with you- even a simple task such as looking into your eyes has his heart aching. And once you laugh at his flushed face- there’s no coming back.

Just a quick glance at Riddle has you sighing, it looks as if you’d have to take the lead here. Taking the housewardens hand in your own, you cant help but notice how soft it is against your own. And of course Riddle looses his composure once more. You can't help but laugh, eventually he’d get used to this. It isn’t until you reach the library where he eventually calms down. Riddle glances over to you, a smile forming on his face. He suddenly had the great idea to take you to the romance section.

# #. TREY CLOVER

It was two days before your date, and Trey still didn't have a good idea for your first date. Don't get him wrong, he had been planning the date out for a while now. But there were so many things he wanted to do, so many dates he could choose from. It was difficult to pick just one. So now, as he stands in his kitchen, a mini shortcake in his hand, he suddenly has a great date idea. A sweet and romantic one!! And what was sweeter than a picnic date !!

Trey begins working while preparing for an upcoming unbirthday party. He set pastries and goodies off to the side, decorated and pretty just for you. A smile forms on his face as he places them in a picnic basket, taking off his apron. Cookies, cakes, and cinnamon buns were on one side, while sandwiches, crepes, and biscuits were on the other. He had already set up a place in the rose maze, in the middle of a small clearing where tea parties would sometimes occur. White roses lined the maze walls, complementing the blanket sprawled on the grass. In the center was a vase of red roses he picked out for you. It was the perfect place to have a picnic date!

Trey waits for you near the gardens entrance, a few roses in his hand. He looked calm, as always of course. To many, he didn’t have much of a need to be nervous. He prepared a beautiful lunch, filled with pastries and snacks. The date was located in the prettiest place in the rose maze, decorated nicely and pleasing to the eye. His clothes were ironed and pressed, complementing his aesthetic nicely. Most would praise him for being so prepared- telling him that you would love it. Yet Trey couldn’t help but feel anxious, palms sweaty as he griped the roses stems tightly. It’s fine, he was fine, everything was fine.

But once Trey heard your voice he froze. His head jerked up to face you, a pink flush on his cheeks. You were already looking up at him, a bright smile on your face. Trey couldn't help but laugh, mimicking your smile while holding his hand out to take your own. He led you through the rose maze, liking the feeling of your hand in his own. It didn't take too long to reach the picnic blanket, and once you saw Trey’s set up- you suddenly had the urge to jump around and spin and squeal. It was so obviously from the heart that you couldn’t help but swoon. Trey smiled, opening the picnic basket to take out some sandwiches, by the expression on your face he hoped you liked them!!

# #. CATER DIAMOND

There’s so many date ideas to choose from !! From cafes to arcades- it’s just so hard to just pick one alone ! However, Cater had something cooking in the back of his mind. He needed something classic, like from a movie or TV show! But it had to be special and romantic, and of course, heart stopping. It had to be something that could impress you…. Like something from a shoujo manga ! And what was more romantic than an amusement park date?

Cater can just imagine the scene before him. He finds you standing in front of the park’s entrance, eyes focused on the birds before you, so different from the ones in your world. You’re smiling, soft and gently as you fiddle with your phone case- the one he specifically bought for you. Flower petals are floating around you, drifting in the breeze. He can’t help but notice how similar they are to the ones he’d find in the rose maze. Cater had always imagined how’d they look like in a romantic setting.

Cater cant help but reciprocate your smile as he watches you indulge in your own little world. But as much as he would love to just watch you, this was an interactive date! Plus his hands are just itching to take a picture!! Especially since your outfit is just so adorable! You’re dressed in comfortable, yet stylish summer clothes. And what do you know ! Your somehow matching with him, what a fun coincidence !! (He totally didn’t bribe Grim into telling him what you were gonna wear)

Cater giggles to himself, bringing out his phone to surprise you. Suddenly a loud ‘click!’ comes from your right, and you turn to see none other than your favorite ginger. The smile on your face grows tenfold as you run up to him. Cater can’t help when his heart stutters, butterflies fluttering in his stomach when you look at him. He shoves the feeling down, taking your hand in his own to guide you into the park. There was something more important on his mind- he just had to get you on the Ferris wheel before this date ends!!

# #. DEUCE SPADE

Deuce would definitely take you out on a motorcycle- or rather- blastcycle date !! He probably asked his mom the idea- as he was far too flustered to come up with the plan himself. I mean, you actually accepted ! He was so sure you'd turn him down. You knew so much about Deuce, his old life, how bad he was as a kid… he was sure your opinion of him would be tainted with disgust. So now, as he stands before ramshackle, he can’t help but wonder if this is all real.

A bouquet of roses is held tightly in his grip, almost breaking the stems with how much he's shaking. His face is ignited, a hot and heavy blush on his face as he awaits by the door. His minds running a mile a minute, doubt sinking into his chest. Deuce had never been on a real date before. And he wouldn’t count the ones from his delinquent days to be romantic per say. This was his first ever date. A date with the prefect. He couldn’t mess this up- for either of your sakes.

A light sigh escapes Deuce’s lips as he nervously knocks on Ramshackles beaten door. His heart was pounding in his chest, beating far faster than it ever had in track. However, as the click of the door finally registers in his ears, Deuce can just feel his once racing heart stop. His breath hitches, eyes softening as the door opens fully. Your pretty eyes quickly met his own, causing him to almost drop the roses in his hand. A bright smile rested on your face. A smile that easily grasped his heart and held it to your own. absolutely beautiful.

….Your hands are wrapped tightly around his waist as you get onto the blastcycle, body pressed up against his own. He flushed further, feeling your head rest on his back, watching the sunset as you approach the beach. You sit there refined, fully unaware (your doing this on purpose) of Deuce's heart dilemma. It was only the beginning of the date yet he was already on cloud nine. Sevens, he’s gonna become a bowl of hot lava by the end of this !!

# #. ACE TRAPPOLA

Ace had been on many dates before. He once had a girlfriend, a partner. He knew how to make someones heart swell. He knew how to make your heart flutter and soften for him. He knew how a date worked, what to do and where to go. But this time it was special. This time he was going out with you, the prefect. Like others, he had to pick the perfect place. So as he watched snow fall gently to the floor and the school lamps emit a faint light, Ace couldn't help but feel soft. And before he knew it, the perfect idea struck. Ice skating in the city !!

Since it was winter it wasn’t hard to find a nice, frozen, lake that was close, and having the help of the dark mirror made it easier to travel wherever. Usually, Ace would leave his date to figure out where to go on their own, as they were the ones to ask him out in the first place. Yet, Ace had to impress you here, you deserved it for all you’d done so far. You knew him far better than anyone, you listened to him when he was upset, you let him into your home even when he was being an asshole. You cared- Eugh- he just realized how Lovey-Dovey he was being right now.

It was cold and dark the night of your date. Perfect "date material," it seemed, as a few couples were already there, laughing amongst themselves as they got lost to love. Ace scoffed, before realizing he was heading down that exact path. With... you. He shook his head, trying not to dwell on it for too much longer while he laced his skates, flushing bright red. The crunching of snow caught his attention, you were finally here, he assumed. He looked up, an annoyed expression playing on his face, probably about to tease you for being late. The words were right on his tounge, stopping once he gazed up at you. And the once cold Ace was suddenly burning red.

Street lights lit up your form for him to gaze upon. You were smiling, a soft smile, one he could tell was just filled with adoration. Now he was even redder than his housewarden!! ...You intertwined your hand with, using him for balance. He grew redder, thoughts of being balanced and steady leaving his mind faster than he could run from Riddle. He stumbled over himself, leading both of you to the floor, with you landing right on top of him. He grumbled while you laughed, poking fun at the Ace Trappola being ever so flustered. He was going to get you back for sure.

# #. LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

Leona’s idea of a first date is probably laying in bed, and maybe he’ll bring you along. But don’t be fooled, the main date is between him and his bed. It doesn’t take him much convincing to do something grander, especially since he sees you and Malleus talking to each other the day before your date is supposed to happen. Now he has to go all out. And what's more extravagant than taking you to a whole ass ISLAND-

The next day Leona stops by your classroom, leaning against the door frame as he looks down at you, arms crossed. You're confused, obviously, your date wasnt until tonight right, so why was he here now? A smirk forms on his face as he watches your expression shift, he can't help but chuckle at your face. Your mouth was agape, eyes wide and popping out of their sockets. He tells you to quickly pack, honestly surprised that you didnt drop all your books in complete shock.

Leona waits by the dark mirror, eyes closed as his tail swishs back and forth, agitated. Sevens you were taking so long. He fidgets with a small bag in his hand; the extra money he was going to bribe the headmage with. How else would he be able to do this on an average weekend? You'd better appreciate what he was doing- and could you hurry up?? In reality Leona was totally fine waiting- because believe it or not this was also his first date. Being a prince, Leona had to be careful about who he was trying to date, as it would eventually lead to courting, and then marrige. (Do what you will with that information.) So he had to pick the right person. Someone who could be with him always.

His ears twitch, hearing the sound of footsteps approaching. Being petty, Leona doesn't open his eyes until your there for well over a minute. Once he glances over, eyes falling onto your panting, messy, form, he sighs. You looked up at him, smiling brightly while, at the very least, expecting one back. But of course he just scoffed and turned away, leaving you to huff. If he was an actual gentleman he would’ve taken your stuff for you, and would’ve taken your hand and led you into the mirror. (Unbeknownst to you, his heart was starting to beat way faster than he would’ve liked.)

# #. RUGGIE BUCCHI

Ruggie was nervous to ask you out on a date. Mainly because of rejection of course, however the underlining fear of money and costs entered his mind of course. If he went on a date with you it couldn't be cheap and dull. It at least had to be decent, maybe not fully fancy, but at least decent. Luckily he had the perfect place in mind. there was a cheap, yet flattering date that could go perfect if he played his cards right. A cute little cafe date !!

One of the best cafes Ruggie had been to was just below the school, a cheap yet gorgeous place that was sure to blow you away. Some of his favorite donuts were also there, and hopefully he’d get to share them with you. Unsurprisingly, you get there before him, eyes looking up at the cafe sign in awe. You look beautiful, as always, but this time it was different. This time it was just for him… no one else. Perhaps the idea of this being a date was finally setting in.

A sly smile reaches his face as he shuffles closer towards you, trying to hide his flushed expression. He’s stealthy enough to not get your attention, before BOO !! jumpscare- a furry is before you now uh oh. You jump, listening to his snickers and teases while glaring. He will say that your expression is really cute. Ruggie interlocks his hands with yours, lacing your fingers together as he leads you into the cafe. No it’s your turn to tease him, as, “You’re already holding hands?? What- that’s not allowed!!” But he just laughs with you instead.

The cafe is cozy. Warm with the scent of baked goods and sweets, obviously catering to Ruggie’s tastes. You can’t help but giggle, watching as he dashed for the register, ordering a plethora of baked goodies that he would hopefully share with you. He comes back to the table soon after, holding an array of croissants, cake pops, donuts, and more. He’s smiling brightly as he holds out a donut for you, already taking a bite into his own. The both of you hoped this moment would last for a while. Yum.

# #. JACK HOWL

Jack had never been on a date before, and it was painfully obvious. He didn’t know what dates were like, or where to take you for one. He was so new to this subject, it was honestly kind of funny. So of course, he had to ask his idols; Ruggie and Leona on what to do. Leona ignored him- he was probably the worst person to ask- while Ruggie was confused. Again, why ask him?? Still, he was able to give some advice. The inspiring words of, “Idk it’s cold, go do something with snow,” gave Jack the great idea to go snowboarding!

Jack had always loved snowboarding. It was something he was good at, and something he could share with his family. And hopefully, it could be something to share with you. Jack smiled to himself, confidence boosting as he carried the snow gear to the magic mirror. He wasn’t that nervous, he had no reason to be. He liked you and you liked him, and even if you didn’t enjoy the date, it was good enough for him. Jack’s ears twitched, waiting for any sign of you to appear. His tail wagged in anticipation, contrasting his normal face.

The wolf looked up, hearing your footsteps approach, and he couldn’t help the butterflies in his stomach. You were already looking up at him, giggling as you glanced at his puffy winter jacket. It was overtaking his already gigantic form. He flushed, eyes darting around, suddenly nervous and embarrassed. Jack never had time for dates, mainly due to taking care of his siblings and parents. But now, in Night Raven College, surrounded by new people and “friends,” he felt as if he could be someone new. And a little spark bloomed once he saw you.

… Jack looked away, feeling himself getting flustered. The two of you were sitting in the sled, one of you excited while the other was nervous beyond his mind. Jack was flushed, the feeling of your body pressed against his own was waaayyy too much do him to handle. Your back was pressed against his chest, fully aware of how embarrassed he was. The wolf sighed, finally moving the sleigh down the hill as he listened to your sudden screech. Jack laughed, he'd have to get used to this.

# #. AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Azul is going to give you the vip experience in his restaurant, of course!! The lounge was one of the best places to go for dinner. There was appetizing, delicious, foods that were sure to impress you. Unique, flavorful drinks that could easily win people's hearts. Not only that, but the lounges atmosphere and aesthetic could be romantic in a way. (I feel like im promoting the mostro lounge tf-) What better than to spend time in his favorite place with his favorite person? Azul would give you the best dinner date yet!

The lounge was closed that night, surprising, as you never would've imagined Azul to close his restaurant for you. A heartfelt gesture that no one would've have expected him to do. You couldn’t help but swoon slightly, looking down at his message as you got ready. In reality, he was just thinking about business. Closing off the lounge just for a date could give him more publicity! Once Crowley finally gave him permission to branch off to different parts of Twisted Wonderland, he could advertise the lounge as a perfect place for date night!!

A smug smirk is on the octopuses face as he waits near the lounges entrance. He was sure sure to blow you away with his magnificence. Azul was fully prepared, his suit was pressed and cleaned, sporting only the most beautiful of accessories. The food was already out and on the table, which he made all by himself, might I add. And the lounge was set perfectly, pink and orange colors replacing the blue and purple lights for a more romantical effect. He was well prepared, so well in fact he already had a speech ready to go for once you arrived. However, once Azul saw you he froze, suddenly realizing this was a date and not a business offer.

The once smug Octopus was now a flustered, hot, mess. And all he wanted to do was just jump into his octo-pot and scream for messing up all he worked for. He stumbled as he led you into the café, hand shakily in your own. You couldn’t help but snicker, it was fun watching the high and mighty suddenly crumble just because of some date. The two of you sat in the middle of the lounge, quiet and peaceful. Yet Azul could see the teasing looks of Floyd and Jade in the background, their teasing at him being a flustered mess.

# #. JADE LEECH

Jade didn't know much about the surface, other than the fact he enjoyed some aspects of it. The ocean was deep and cold, a starch contrast to the surface. It had life different from the land, more majestic and colorful. To others, the sea was better than the surface. Yet to Jade, it was the other way around. He liked the lands’ high peaks and trees, their foods and plants. The land had a different culture from the ocean, and it was something the two of you could bond over- the beauty of nature. And how better to observe nature than a hiking date?

# #. FLOYD LEECH

The mountains near NRC was rich in wildlife, and although Jade had been there many times before, he had yet to explore every crevice of the forest. Not only, but he'd only ever explored alone, so going with you would make it a memorable experience. He's smiling all day- and for once its not one of his evil ones. His brother and Azul are concerned on why he's so excited. Hopefully he's not trying to make them eat more mushrooms....

Jade waits for you near the silent woods, his smile never once leaving his lips. He had everything for this date, walking sticks and foods. The two of you could have a little picnic in the forest!! Jade watches as you near him, you're in your own hiking clothes, and the eel suddenly realized he could fall harder in love. He places your hand in his, ever so gentlemanly, promising he'd make sure you were safe during your adventure. Man this man can make anyone swoon.

You laugh, watching Jade's eyes sparkle. It was so cute to see him so excited. He went on and on about the different types of wildlife. There were various plans and mushrooms he was able to find- promising to cook you something with them. You couldn't help but smile with him, perhaps for your next date you could take him to the mountains in Epel's town.

Floyd didn’t know where to go for a date, and to be honest, he didn’t care much. Just as long as got to spend time with his Shrimpy he was happy! :D But then Ace had to come along during basketball practice and tell him that not having a good date idea was lame, and of course, Floyd was gonna prove that idiot crab wrong. And eventually, Floyd settled on an aquarium date!

For once, Floyd studied. He studied those stupid Rom com shows that he wanted to throw his shoes at. He read thru manga and storybooks about romance. And he even asked his brother and Azul on what to do. He was doing this all for his Shrimpy so you better like it >:(!! Floyd noticed a pattern while reading and watching how people explored romance. Dates were all over the place- from amusement parks to just walking. But one common date caught his eye- aquarium dates!!

Floyd knew a lot about the ocean, of course, being a fish and all. So what was the point of going to the aquarium? Well he just liked the way they highlighted love. Most aquarium dates had a special feeling to them, so romantic and loving. Most couples held hands while in aquariums, watching the fish while laughing with one another. They hugged and cared- and we all know how much Floyd loved squeezing!! Plus! Knowing all about the fish could impress you!!

The two of you walk through the maze of Tanks, pointing out fish while Floyd compares them to his nicknames. A blue light cascades over you, complementing your excitement prettily. He giggles, telling you to hold onto his arm tightly, telling you to not let go or he'd squeeze you for all eternity!! Its all fun though- with Floyd threatening to jump in and eat those crabs that remind him of Ace. You'd better hold him back before he jumps in the tank and swims with the fishies!!!

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #cater diamond #ace trappola #deuce spade #trey clover #leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #jack howl #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #floyd leech #This took so long omg-

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yuus-sentient-teddy · 4 months

Text

While stuff is going down on Sage's Island, what's happening with some of the families of the NRC students?

S.T.Y.X. probably had to be the ones to tell the families the situation. Even though they explain it as lightly as possible so that there's no major panic, that won't stop the families from worrying.

I thought about Deuce's mom after Malleus casted the spell, when Deuce hasn't called her to talk about his day. Her intuition is telling her that something is amiss, but she tries to brush it off even though Deuce has never missed a call.

She sends a good morning text the following day.

She tries calling him an hour later when there's no response. What if he got sick and that's why he hasn't said anything?

But the call immediately goes to voicemail.

Okay, don't panic. She's sure her son must have forgotten to charge his phone (unlikely, a part of her says) or maybe he's deep asleep from being sick.

Dila debates on whether to call the school. She doesn't want to be overprotective or overbearing. . . and yet her mother's intuition is still screaming at her that something isn't right.

It wouldn't hurt to just be sure, right?

Dila's heart sinks when the call to the school immediately goes to voicemail.

The next chance she gets, Dila drives to the Trappola residence. She starts to feel a little ridiculous when Mrs. Trappola answers the door without a single bit of worry. What if it's nothing? But she still asks if Mrs. Trappola has heard from her son.

Mrs. Trappola shakes her head. "No, but he usually talks with his brother a lot. What's up?"

Dila explains how her son hasn't called or texted her and that the call to the school was unsuccessful. "Hmmm... it could be your phone. Let me try calling."

But the same thing happens--the school doesn't pick up. Dila notices something she missed in the beginning: Mrs. Trappola's stiffness beneath a casual mask. Does Mrs. Trappola also feel like something is wrong?

"Hang on, let me try calling his brother."

He's casual when he picks up and tells his mom that Ace hadn't called him last night. But there is a bit of trepidation when he asks, "Is something going on?"

"No, just checking. I'll call you later." Mrs. Trappola lets out a breath and meets Dila's eyes. Both mothers recognize the look in the other's eyes.

"Do you know Clover Bakery?" Dila asks. "Deuce told me that the son of the family who runs it is in the same dorm as him and Ace."

Mrs. Trappola nods. "Ace mentioned him a few times. Trey."

"I'm going to go over there. Want to come with?"

"Give me a second to get my stuff."

Two worried mothers become three, and they're all sitting around a table in the back of the bakery while a father is with the employees at the front. At this point, it's clear that something has happened to their sons and the school.

The three discuss what to do next. Should they try calling the school again? Reach out to the police station? To another family? How about contacting that Diamond kid's family?

But why stop at this part of the world?

Perhaps a while after the sleeping spell is cast, a little heir is wandering the streets pouting because no one is telling him what is going on.

Something has happened to his uncle, that he knows, but he doesn't know just exactly what.

This little heir may bump into an older woman, a grandmother, who asks why he's wandering around on his own so late in the day. He almost cries in frustration while telling her about the adults not telling him anything about his uncle. He lets slip that his uncle goes to Night Raven College.

That makes the grandmother pause, the uneasy feeling inside of her making itself known once again.

She tells the child that his family might be worried about him and eventually persuades him that going home would be a good idea. She escorts him out of the slums, listening to him talk about his uncle, until some guards find the two.

Before the guards escort the little prince back home, the grandmother asks about Night Raven College. Her grandson is a student there and in the same dorm as Leona Kingscholar. The guards reply with an apology and that they have not heard of an incident at the school.

But she stops them. Surely, they must have heard of something. She doesn't miss the fleeting look in one of the guards' eyes--perhaps that woman has a child who goes there too?

That guard tells her partner to go on ahead, and once the prince and his guard are far enough, she tells the grandmother that all communication to the school and Leona--even to anywhere on the island--have been unsuccessful. Other ways of communicating are being sought, but the guard is bracing for the worse.

She tells the grandmother that if she hears anything, she'll come find her.

The parents of four families congregate in Clover Bakery before it opens. It's clear that no one has gotten much sleep. Cups of coffee are handed out as they all take a seat in the bakery's main area.

"Any word?"

"No."

"Actually," Mrs. Trappola says, "my eldest told me that his friend on the Land of Dawning was given an evacuation order alongside every single citizen there."

". . . The entire land?" Mrs. Clover says faintly, disbelieved.

"The entire land." The weight of the words is heavy and they all silently contemplate what the evacuation could mean.

"Doesn't the heir of Briar Valley also go to the school?" Mrs. Diamond asks. "It's possible he might be keeping everyone safe. Plus--" she fixes a bright smile on her face--"our boys have survived two Overblots. What's one more?"

"There's also a magicless student who goes to the school," Mrs. Trappola says. "I heard from Ace that they've gone through multiple Overblots and survived without so much a scratch. If they can stay standing after that kind of disaster, then this should be nothing for them."

". . . I'm sorry, did you say multiple?"

The bell above the door chimes. In steps none other than Mrs. Rosehearts and a man who seems smaller in her presence. It's not missed the way the woman stands stiffly, and in the corner of Dila's eye, she sees Mr. and Mrs. Clover sitting up straighter.

"Is there anything we can help you with?" Mrs. Clover asks. Dila hears a little tremble in her voice as she tries to sound neutral. She meets Mrs. Diamond's eyes across the way and the two share the same thought: there's a strained history between the Rosehearts and Clovers.

That is when Dila remembers a phone call with Deuce early in the school year--Riddle and Trey's past and Riddle's Overblot.

Mrs. Rosehearts takes a deep breath and lets it out in a half-huff. It seems like she's fighting with her pride. "Yes. Have you heard from the school or your sons?"

"No. None of us have."

Mr. Clover gestures to the chairs. "Have a seat."

The man accompanying Mrs. Rosehearts, Mr. Rosehearts, accepts the invitation. However, halfway sitting down, he notices his wife is still standing. "I'm fine. This shouldn't take long," she says.

He blinks, then fully sits. "So, uh, what have we missed?" he asks.

After the two are filled in, Mr. Rosehearts nods sadly while Mrs. Rosehearts's scowl deepens. "So there's nothing." She almost spits out the last word.

"What about you? Have you tried anything?" Mrs. Diamond asks calmly, like the two were acquaintances.

"Of course I have! But nothing worked!" Mrs. Rosehearts shuts her eyes, tightens her grip on her handbag, and tries to calm down from the outburst.

"We both tried calling people we knew on the island, but our calls kept bouncing," Mr. Rosehearts supplies. "I heard about the Land of Dawning evacuation from a friend of mine. They also said that S.T.Y.X. was the one issuing it."

"S.T.Y.X?!" the room explodes.

"They're only involved if there's an Overblot. So does that mean. . . ?" Mr. Clover doesn't dare finish the sentence.

"But what kind of Overblot causes an entire island to be shut down and another island to evacuate?" Dila asks.

"One that can be caused by a powerful mage," Mrs. Trappola softly says.

The room is once again blanketed by horrified and tense silence. Thoughts return to what Mrs. Diamond said earlier. Doesn't the heir of Briar Valley also go to the school?

Mrs. Rosehearts suddenly spins around and marches to the door.

"Where are you going?" her husband asks.

"To the emissary. I will not sit idly and ponder useless things with useless outcomes while my son is in potential danger."

She's halfway through the door when her and everyone's phones go off simultaneously, creating a cacophony of text notification sounds. They're whipped out and Dila holds her breath as she opens the text application.

. . .

Mr. Clover takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. Mr. Diamond runs a hand through his hair. And Mr. Trappola and Mr. Rosehearts can't stop staring at the message on his phone.

It felt good finally having a confirmation that something was amiss and knowing that a major organization was handling it. At the same, however, it left longing for more information.

"What about my son?!" Mrs. Rosehearts's demand to know her son's well-being felt like a reflection of what the other parents were feeling inside. Anger, worry, helplessness.

Mrs. Clover sits back in her chair with a distant, worried gaze. Mrs. Diamond leans on her husband's shoulder. Mrs. Trappola rubs her face. Mrs. Rosehearts slams the door as she leaves the bakery.

After a few attempts, Dila finally opens the internet application. It brings her to a news article from a while ago, written by a Sage's Island reporter, and at the very top is a picture of her son performing in the Star Sending Ceremony. She can't stop staring at it. What if she never sees him again?

"Deuce. . ."

Meanwhile, in Sunset Savannah, a little prince runs down a street. His head turns wildly, searching for a certain face. Anyone outside pause to stare at him, no doubt curious as to why the heir is here in this neighborhood of all places. He finally spots her leaving a run-down home and sprints the rest of the way.

The grandmother hears him before she sees him. He slows to a stop before her and is panting as he says, "I know what's happening! The island is shut down and some sticks are fixing it!"

"'Some sticks'?" she repeats, puzzled.

He nods feverishly. "Yeah! That's what I heard."

She assumes it's magic-related. "What about the island? Did you hear why it is shut down?"

He goes to answer, but pauses. "Um... I didn't," he says bashfully.

She's disappointed, but doesn't let that show. "That's all right. Thank you for telling me about what you heard."

"Prince Cheka!" Marching down the street is the guard from yesterday. The little prince's ears press down. "Please, notify any of us when you plan to leave the palace," she says, though it sounds more like scolding.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to let grandmother know about the school."

The guard sighs. "Your parents have already been told and they expect you back soon. I will stand guard beside the house. Let me know when you are ready to return."

"Can you tell grandmother what you know?" Cheka asks. "I saw you talking to her yesterday."

The guard, beneath the stoic exterior, had been impatient to tell the grandmother. "Very well."

She relays the message she, a couple of the other guards, and the queen received. An incident on Sage's Island. . . All travel to Sage's Island and the Land of Dawn are prohibited. . . S.T.Y.X. is currently handling the situation and will notify when the situation has been resolved.

"I am sorry I can't give you more information," the guard says.

Grandma Bucchi shakes her head. "You've given me enough."

She makes her way to a cracked chair and tries not to fall back on it as she sits. "Are you okay?" Cheka asks, approaching as the guard readies herself to help.

"I'm all right," she half lies. She prays to the stars of the coming night that nothing is happening to Ruggie. She already lost her daughter-in-law and son; she cannot lose her grandson.

"He'll figure out a way to survive. He's resourceful," she says, partly as a reminder to herself.

"My uncle might be helping him. They might be helping each other, like the King of Beasts and the hyenas!" Cheka says, brightening.

Grandma Bucchi knows the story well--everyone in Sunset Savannah does. It came to mind when Ruggie told her about his working relationship with Leona, and the thought wasn't lost on Ruggie either.

Perhaps they are helping each other through the danger that has taken hold of the island. "It is possible. My grandson is in the same dorm as your uncle."

A/N: I have been dying to share this with ya'll for a couple of weeks. I also kind of oneshot this XD

#dila spade #mama spades #ace trappola's mom #ace trappola's dad #trey clover's mom #trey clover's dad #riddle rosehearts's mom #riddle roseheart's dad #mama rosehearts #cheka kingscholar #grandma bucchi #anippola #deuce spade's mom #cater diamond's mom #cater diamond's dad #btw the guard who talks with Grandma Bucchi is no one in particular--she just suddenly appeared and I went YES #twst angst #twisted wonderland #🧸🖊writing

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miss-nandini · 1 year

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Headcanon: When you accidentally fall on top of them

Heartslabyul

Riddle: Oh dear, you really had to stumble and fall on him?! Don't get me wrong he did try to catch you but he was so surprised that you ended up falling on top of him. Will probably get very embarrassed. In case you end up looking in his eyes while your hands remain on his chest, he will get really really flustered, his face will match his hair colour, but will also get mesmerized. To him you are the prettiest, honey.

Trey Clover: You should be grateful, because he will catch you and thankfully none of you will get hurt. He will hold you by the waist and murmur a "be careful" with a slight blush. He won't be able to forget how your lips were just inches away from him and how you clung to him for dear life.

Cater Diamond: He is that type of guy who can easily catch you but still he will let you fall on top of him. Cause, come on! he loves how flustered you get and how his heart beats so fast when your eyes gaze into his. Your warm smile captivates him and he won't let a chance like this slip away if it means he can admire you for a little bit longer.

Ace Trappola: Can never catch you because he will be freaking out more than you. Will be a blushing mess but will deny it everytime someone brings it up. He just loves how he can hold you so close to him like this, using the situation as an excuse. Typical Ace huh? "(Y-Y/N)?!"

Deuce Spade: He won't be able to catch you in time either. He will be surprised and definitely flustered. He isn't used to having you so close to him. Your breath was fanning his cheeks and your lips—Bruh! The hell is he thinking?! Will probably cough awkwardly and then help you up with a blush. "Are you okay (Y/N)??"

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar: Now, for heaven's sake he is a smug lion. He will definitely catch you if he was awake and purposefully pull you closer. His smirk will only widen if you get shy. Will tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear and lean in. "In a hurry? Herbivore?"

Ruggie Bucchi: Alright dear you just caught him by surprise. Nothing more nothing less. You get it? Straight up deny how his heart was doing flip-flops in his chest. He can deny it how much he wants to but in the end his blushing face will give it away.

Jack Howl: Listen, this man will definitely catch you. He will ask if you are okay and then when he makes sure he will slowly let you go. However, he will keep you close to him for an extra minute or two. Give him a bright smile and maybe a hug~

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto: Listen sweetheart, you officially created a glitch in him. Will blush like crazy and stutter like a child caught eating junk food. He will want to crawl back in his octopot. Don't let him run away! This is your chance! Give him a big smile and a comforting hug.

Jade Leech: He will catch you and make sure you are okay. Will definitely give you a reassuring smile and silently hold you closer to him for a little while. Don't question it. Let him sway you back and forth gently. You make his day better.

Floyd Leech: "Shrimpyyyy!!" This man is a whole mood. He will help you up, yes. But not before he sqeezes the life outta you with a huge grin. You make his heart beat faster and he isn't shy to be openly affectionate with you. Just smile and let him cradle you in his chest like a baby.

Scarabia

Kalim Al-asim: He will giggle a lot when you fall on top him. His smile is so infectious than you will end up giggling with him. Kalim finds this situation funny and oh boy he isn't afraid to keep you in that position even if people stare at you two weirdly.

Jamil Viper: Well, yeah you caught him off guard. He will sigh and then help you up. Will probably ask multiple times to check if you are okay or not. His expressions won't give away much but inside he is feeling a whirlwind of things.

Pomfiore

Vil Schoenheit: Oh dear, he is another smug one. Will definitely catch you if he wants to or if he is in the mood to tease you he will let you fall and then tease you about it. Will never accept that his heart almost burst out of his chest.

Rook Hunt: He will smile at you like an idiot, help you up and then won't stop teasing you about it. Don't let his attitude fool you. He is just trying keep himself together without spilling out all of his feelings.

Epel Felmier: Now, this is a case of who will help who get up. He wants you to see him as a man, a REAL one you see? Don't laugh at him even if he ends up splattering utter nonsense. Just give him a smile and say that everything's cool.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud: My my my, Oh my sweet what did you just do? You officially broke him. His face will turn so red that you may think he has a fever. But fear not my dear. He is sick—ahem—lovesick and the reason is you! He will keep gawking at you and in the end you will have to pull him up.

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia: Well... he sure is one of the sweetest but he can be a little shit when he wants to be. Will catch you AND pull you in his chest without letting you go for quite a while. Sway you gently back and forth and kiss the top of your head. If you get flustered then he will tease you about it. Well... try to turn the situation around a bit, will ya? It's not everyday you get to see him flustered after all.

Lilia Vanrouge: He will smile at you teasingly. Lilia is such a tease. Even if he helps you up he won't stop teasing you before getting a reaction outta you. Will still make sure if you are okay. Sweetie give him peck on the cheek and turn the tables. It will be worth it.

Silver: Depends, really. If you are in the middle of the hallway then he will pull you up and make sure that you are okay. However, if you are in the Diasomnia dorm he will just hold you there and then go back to sleeping.

Sebek Zigvolt: Get ready for a lot of yelling and an embarrassed Sebek. Like I said, he will yell a lot (I will pray for for your ears 💀). After he has calmed down he will mumble out a "Are you okay?" with a red face.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst #twst x reader #twst fluff #twst crack #twst headcanons #twst shitpost #twst imagines #twst x mc #twst x you

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writeyouin · 8 months

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Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Hell's Assumptions

A/N – Okay, I think that’s everyone on the tagging list. So, here’s to Chapter 4. Raise a glass.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

MALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

Tag-List: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx@sseleniaa@randomgurl2326@22carolina08@astrxwitch@yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch @reverse-soe

People were staring.

The worst part was, you weren’t sure who they were staring at, you or Lucifer. It could have easily been him since he was the King of Hell, and even those who didn’t immediately recognise him could sense the power he exuded. However, it was just as likely that they were looking at you and wondering who you were, and how you had managed to get their ruler to walk with you, especially since he wasn’t known for going out much.

Fortunately, when people saw Lucifer coming, they moved to the other side of the street, staring, whispering, taking pictures, but keeping a safe distance.

Lucifer was used to this kind of thing. He walked confidently, held a charming smile, and was generally non-plussed by the attention. You, on the other hand, felt awkward.

‘This was my idea,’ You mentally reminded yourself.

You tried to hold onto that thought as you attempted to strike up a conversation.

“So… What’s it like in the Embassy building?” You asked, quickly realising that it was a terrible topic as Lucifer’s smile became a glower.

You shouldn’t have reminded him where he was going. It was obvious he hated Heaven for their treatment of him, yet yearned for it and the life he had lost within its pearly gates where nothing went wrong for anyone.

“Sorry,” You said hurriedly. “I didn’t think- uh, nice weather we’re having?”

Lucifer smiled and shook his head. He couldn’t believe you. Only the night before, you had told him to grow up, with such confidence, and now here you were struggling for words. He bypassed the awkward situation with ease by asking, “Will you be visiting the Hotel today?”

“Oh, uh… Maybe. I would like to see everyone again. Check that Nifty hasn’t set anything on fire. Make sure that everything’s okay, and-”

You had been about to mention Angel Dust. Today was one of his work days. You would like to check that he was okay. You didn’t mention him however, with something like a confidentiality clause stopping you, though you weren’t his doctor, nor was he your patient. You didn’t want to talk about his suffering; he was more than his trauma.

Instead, you said, “I would like to check in, but maybe not today. Besides, you’ll be there tonight, won’t you?”

“Yes. I’d like to deliver the news to Charlie personally, and perhaps coach her on some of Heaven’s stricter rules.”

“Then, I think I’ll stay at the manor. I wouldn’t want to step on your toes. You and Charlie- I think you need to catch up a bit, without any interruptions. She missed you, you know.”

Lucifer ruminated on this for a minute. Whatever your motivations, he was glad that you were giving him and his daughter some space. Granted, the Hotel was large enough to house many conversations in separate areas but by making the offer of keeping your distance, you were giving Lucifer some breathing room; that was good.

Had you not made that offer, Lucifer might have brought up the topic of moving you back into the Hotel to Charlie, but in respecting his boundaries, Lucifer was starting to think that you weren’t so bad… for a Sinner.

“I missed her too.”

“Can I ask,” You said hesitantly, “What kept you away so long? You clearly think the world of her.”

Lucifer sighed, and stopped in the middle of the street, “I-”

He didn’t get to explain his absence.

Instead, he became annoyed as two Sinners, one who looked like a nine-year-old boy’s dream with bazooka arms and rocket-infused shoulders, and the other a winged bear-woman wielding a machine gun burst through the building on the opposite side of the road, waging war upon one another.

“SHIT!” You cursed, seeing the debris that threatened to crush a lone imp who hadn’t reacted quickly enough, his leg trapped under the first brick segment that fell.

Reacting quickly, you threw out your arms. A light green barrier shielded the imp from further harm, but you struggled under the weight of so much wreckage.

“MOXXIE!” A female imp yelled, running to him.

You thought she might struggle to lift the wreckage off him and were about to ask for Lucifer’s help before your barrier would inevitably crumble. Yet, the female imp was stronger than she appeared and she threw it off Moxxie. She then lifted him bridal style, and ran from the danger, shooting you a grateful look from across the street.

You gasped and shuddered as you let your arms fall, your barrier fading from existence.

“You shouldn’t have bothered,” Lucifer said as you straightened up.

“What?” You breathed heavily, recovering from the exertion; one of the weakest Demons in Hell, with your limited abilities.

“It was a nice thing to do, but what’s the point? Look around,” Lucifer threw his arms up dramatically. “Someone built something nice, and now it’s gone, all because two Sinners couldn’t take their petty power struggle somewhere else. Nobody benefits from this.”

You opened your mouth to argue but were interrupted by the same two imps you had just saved, “Hey there, I’m pretty sure my husband is delirious right now, but he wanted to come over here.”

“I’m not delirious, Millie,” Moxxie said pointedly, clinging onto her shoulder to support his weight; his leg was in all likeliness broken, but being an imp of Hell, it would heal quickly enough.

Millie looked at him sympathetically, likely thinking something along the lines of, ‘Baby, we’re the only ones on the same side of the street as His Majesty, but do what you gotta do!’

“I must thank you most humbly for your remarkable rescue in my name, good Lady,” Moxxie exclaimed pompously, probably presuming that since you were accompanied by Lucifer you were of a much higher station than you were. “Without you, I would certainly have perished, so I find it an appropriate time to extend my gratitude.”

“He means thank you,” Millie affectionately translated.

“You’re welcome,” You smiled. Then, with a small flourish of your fingers, Moxxie leg was bandaged and he was provided with a crutch to hold onto. You were no healer, but that would help the bone set correctly.

Moxxie and Millie thanked you both again, presuming that Lucifer had been part of the rescue (and in a way he was, for when the warring Demons saw him, they took their battle elsewhere), then they were gone, one limping down the street on his new crutch, and his wife offering to carry him.

“You’re wrong,” You said, once the pair were out of sight. “They benefitted.”

Lucifer didn’t know what to say about that. They were only imps. Why did you think they mattered? Yet, after watching the loving couple thank you for their rescue, Lucifer wasn’t certain that he trusted his assessment of the situation. Charlie wanted to redeem Sinners, you had just saved the lowest of all Hell’s beings and he…? He needed to reassess how he thought about things.

The two of you didn’t speak after that and Lucifer assumed that you were mad at him until you reached Heaven’s Embassy. Lucifer stared at the building, broken and hopeless, thinking about how he would have to fight for Charlie.

He was about to take the first step towards it when you rested your hand on his shoulder.

He stared at you, surprised.

“Good luck,” You proffered sympathetically. Then you walked away, and Lucifer was left staring after you. So, you weren’t mad at him after all. What a curious person you were.

He looked back to the building before him, the one place in Hell that was perfectly pristine, and unable to be harmed by anyone. After a deep breath, he headed inside.

When Lucifer returned home, he was exhausted. The meeting had been lengthy and derogatory. He had been treated with barely disguised disdain and talked in circles, but finally, Heaven had agreed to allow his daughter passage to Heaven.

It was never an option really. As the ruler of a powerful realm, Lucifer had to be treated respectfully, even if all of Heaven hated him. Yet, just because they had to acquiesce to his request didn’t mean they hadn’t tried to talk him out of it. The only good news was that it had been Sera and a few of her assistants who hosted the meeting, not that ignorant prick Adam; Lucifer hated that guy… though his taste in women had always been spectacular.

Still, it had all been worth it when he got to the hotel and Charlie thanked him and invited him to stay for a while. They had caught up over tea, and he had gotten to know a little bit more about her and her relationship with Vaggie. Lucifer likely would have stayed longer seeing as he’d also been invited to games night, but then that red-headed bastard was there, grinning like a Cheshire Cat, and Lucifer had made his reasons to leave.

Now, all he wanted was to recover in peace.

On his way upstairs, he heard the long-neglected TV blaring in one of the living rooms. Feeling somewhat guilty about his unsupportive attitude towards you earlier, he decided it would probably be good for him to make amends and apologise. So, before isolating himself for the evening, he sought you out.

You were hunched on the sofa, watching 666 News, and grimacing at the new headline, King of Hell’s New Fuckbuddy.

Lucifer stood quietly behind you, watching as Katie Killjoy reported, “While Hell will be royally fucked by the impending extermination it seems that King of Hell Lucifer is being royally fucked by his new bimbo bitch, seen walking with him today on the streets of Pentagram City.”

Security camera footage of you and Lucifer from earlier filled the screen for a minute before returning to the hosts.

“Who is this Sinner? Does Lucifer get off on Angelic clothing? We hope to find out more soon. Over to you, Tom.”

Tom Trench continued the report, much less assuredly than his co-anchor, “Nobody can say for certain they’re together. Some speculate the Demon to be his highness’ new assistant or-”

Katie clutched Tom’s neck in one hand, never looking away from the camera as she cut off his air supply, “Nobody gives a shit about your limp-dick opinion Tom. We’re all here to speculate about who’s raw-dogging who. Now, onto our cooking segment, It’s Dahm Good, with host Jeffrey who is making a delicious spleen soufflé. Jeffrey-”

“HA!” Lucifer laughed, pointing at the TV.

“Shit!” You yelped, lurching forward, having not known he’d returned home. You turned the TV off and stood to face Lucifer.

He was doubled over and wheezing at the idea that you and he would ever be together.

“Well, at least you’re not upset about this,” You grinned, finding his good mood contagious.

“What morons. They’re always just there, assuming the weirdest shit whenever I go out,” He laughed.

“Yeah? So, it’s okay people know we’re friends?”

Lucifer straightened up with a smile. So, you classed him as a friend? He didn’t confirm or deny your assumption of friendship. He waved his hand, unbothered, “Let them think what they want to think. It’s Hell, nothing matters. Besides, 666 News is trash.”

“Yeah, you’re right. So, how did the meeting with Heaven go? Did they agree to meet with Charlie?”

Lucifer sobered up slightly, though he didn’t seem as upset as he was earlier when Heaven was mentioned, “Yes. The meeting’s in a week. Charlie is- She’s optimistic.”

“And you?”

“I- My girl can handle it.”

“Yeah, she can.”

And so it was that you and Lucifer started to find some common ground, that slowly built the gap from two people who barely knew one another, towards friends.

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cloudzoro · 8 months

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Four leaf clover | Daichi x Reader x Bokuto x Kuroo ♡

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pairings: bokurodai x fem!reader

genre: smut, fluff

wc: 6.4k words

cw: group sex, light bondage, a knife but no actual knife play, toys, rough sex, overstimulation, safeword usage, cum play, daddy is used once, squirting, spitting, facefucking, just really nasty porn <3

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

this an edited reupload of a fic I wrote a few years ago, I have reuploaded it before but my old account got suspended (for unknown reasons) and I didn't want it to be lost to time. so I'm reuploading it one last time. i hope you enjoy! (originally posted in march 2021)

You ask your boyfriend Daichi if you can spice up your sex life by introducing two people you consider close friends to the bedroom but doing so accidentally spices up other aspects of your life too.

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"Daichi?" you say, getting his attention. He looks up from his book with a raised eyebrow, and you suddenly get 10x more nervous. "Can we talk....about our sex life?" He’s intrigued, but there is a flash of worry across his expression.

"Is something wrong, Baby?"

"Nothing is wrong, trust me. Our sex is incredible. I just wanted to know if we can try something new."

"tell me what you're thinking."

Daichi is always willing to try new things with you. The first time you two had sex, he was gentle, but eventually, when he got more comfortable with you, you learned his mean demeanour was a facade. This is why you know he won't immediately shut you down when you suggest adding other people to your sex life; he looks pretty intrigued at your proposal. This is how you find yourself in your current position: on your knees facing the bed's headboard with your arms behind you with Bokuto positioned opposite you in precisely the same way, waiting for instructions. Daichi and Kuroo are seated on chairs on either side of the bed, both men palming themselves through their jeans.

"Why don't you two make out and make it sloppy," instructs Kuroo, unzipping his jeans. You can't contain your excitement as Bokuto pulls you onto his lap and connects your lips. He wastes no time shoving his tongue in your mouth, and you moan into his mouth at the feeling. There was so much saliva that the noise was borderline pornographic. Your hand's fist in his hair, pulling him impossibly close. You hear belts unbuckling and whining into Bokuto's mouth, knowing what's coming next. You glance to the side to see Daichi pulling his cock free from his boxers.

"so fucking pretty" hums Kuroo. He spits in his hand and wraps it around his cock. "Play with her pussy"

Bokuto's hand slips between the two of you, and you whimper into his mouth as he rubs circles on your clit.

"Her tits are so fucking sensitive," says Daichi, who's currently wrapping a hand around his thick cock. Bokuto pushes you on your back, slips a finger into your pussy and attaches his lips to your nipple. He bites and sucks on your nipple as he awaits another instruction. The noises you make at the feeling of his teeth against your nipple have him rock hard and ready to destroy you. He starts to grind his hips into the mattress, only stopping when Kuroo sharply tells him to. He adds another finger and curls it inside you. Bokuto moves to the other nipple, giving it just as much attention. Daichi groans as he watches you arch your back. He loves watching his girl. "You gonna cum, baby?" he asks, eyes not leaving your body as you buck your hips into Bokuto, who's stuffing another finger into your tight pussy.

You nod, feeling your stomach tighten in anticipation. Bokuto grins as you squirm on his fingers, feeling impossibly close. Your orgasm washes over you and leaves you feeling breathless. Bokuto moans as you coat his hand in your release. You knew Bokuto would be a moaner instead of a grunter, but hearing him in person is so much hotter than you thought it could be.

"good girl", coos Kuroo taking his hand off of his cock so that he doesn't cum too soon. "Shit, you're a hot little thing", he growls, standing up and grabbing Bokuto's wrist. He pulls Bokuto's hand to his face and sucks juices off of his fingers. He looks so good that you let out a dreamy sigh in appreciation at the sight, and Kuroo chuckles and pats your head.

His hand that was patting you switches to gripping your hair and pulling you onto your knees.

"Lay back, pretty boy."

Bokuto shuffles down the bed a little bit as Kuroo instructed. Kuroo pulled your face over Bokuto's cock. It's pretty, as pretty as a cock can be. He's so big you aren't sure if you can fit it in your mouth. His cock is an angry red and in desperate need of a warm wet little throat to fuck. You obediently lick up the underside of him and take the head into your mouth. Bokuto struggles to control his hips as a tingling sensation shoots up his spine, and he instinctively bucks into your mouth. The unexpected movement forces his fat cock further down your throat, making you gag, a sensation that pulls a beautiful moan from his throat.

With a lot of cooing from Daichi and Kuroo, you and Bokuto calm down and get back to it. Kuroo's hand on your head and the vocal encouragement from Daichi help you take Bokuto deeper into your throat. You bring your hands to wrap around what you can't fit in your mouth. Bokuto's moans turn to growls as you take even more of him in your mouth. He's so worked up that he's already close, and the way you're working your tongue against him has him rapidly approaching his release.

"She's so good", he whines, slowly bucking into you again. "I'm close"

Daichi chuckles, knowing precisely what he's talking about. His hand comes to pet your head in silent praise, letting you know how much of a good girl you're being. You continue to bob your head, preparing to swallow every drop of cum from Bokutos cock. Bokuto's gentle thrusts stutter as his hands push the others out of the way so that he has something to hold onto. His grip on your hair is so harsh that you can't help but moan around his cock, the vibrations of which send him over the edge. Bokuto moans and curses as he shoots his cum down your throat. You try to swallow as much as you can, but the load is so heavy that when you pull away, his cum drips from down your chin to your chest. All three men keep their eyes focused on you as you scoop his cum off of your chest and suck it off of your fingers one by one, groaning as you taste his cum on your tongue. They all whisper praises under their breaths, considering you the most appealing sight they've ever seen. The sight of your perfect lips wrapped around your fingers has them growling. You open your mouth, stick out your tongue to show them you are a good girl, and swallow it all down.

Daichi and Kuroo, who had grown too antsy and unable to watch anymore, grab you, and Bokuto pulls you to their respective sides of the bed. They hold the rope from the box you and Daichi keep under the bed and get to work tying your wrists together. You glance up at Bokuto, who’s already grinning at you. The positions they have you in mean that you and Bokuto are still facing each other.

You moan as Daichi pushes his thick cock into your pussy, splitting you open on him. He lets you adjust to his size before pulling back, causing you to whimper.

"Aww, poor baby. You feel all empty now, huh?" He laughs and waits for you to respond. The frantic nod you give is answer enough, and he thrusts back into you. The gasp you release when he pushes back in gives him a little ego boost. He knows he’s big, but watching you, all wet and eager, struggle to take him fuels his pride. You are an insatiable little thing, ready to present and endure a punishment. Daichi is never panicky about going too far. He always keeps a watchful eye on your state and trusts you to use your safeword if needed.

You clench tightly around him, snapping him away from his thoughts and back to his cock buried inside you. You begin to squirm in his grasp, and he smacks your ass as a warning to behave.

"You’re squeezing Daddy so tight."

“Daddy, huh?” teases Kuroo. Daichi just grunts at him, saving a smart-mouth retort for later.

You’re lost in the feeling of Daichis thick cock stretching you open that you almost forget Kuroo and Bokuto's presence until you hear Bokuto whimper and moan directly into your ear. Daichi smacks your other ass cheek twice, enjoying the way you respond. Kuroo follows suit, swatting Bokuto's ass with equal force to Daichi, grinning at the high-pitched noise that gets caught in Bokuto's throat.

"Look at them", coos Daichi, landing yet another harsh slap on your ass as he continues to thrust into your sensitive cunt. "They look so cute, all tied up and messy". Kuroo hums in agreement, pulling Bokuto up to his chest and biting down on his neck.

"Such good little whores, being obedient little cock sleeves," says Kuroo in a sweet tone of voice, contradicting his filthy words. " I didn't know your innocent little Y/N was so dirty", he chuckles.

Daichi grips your hair in his fist and pulls your head so it's tilted upwards. He moves his hand to your jaw and forces your mouth open; there’s a 'puh' noise followed by the sensation of Daichi's saliva hitting your tongue. He collects more saliva and spits into your mouth to show Kuroo just how filthy you really are. Kuroo pushes Bokuto back towards the bed so that he is level with you, keeping his fist tight in his hair.

"Don't swallow", Daichi warns, pushing you further along the bed so your head is at a perfect angle for Kuroo. You try not to swallow as Kuroo smirks before spitting in your waiting mouth, his saliva mixes with Daichi's and your own. The feeling makes you whimper. You curl your tongue so the saliva doesn't drip out of your mouth. These powerful men spitting into your mouth makes your pussy clench and drool, which doesn't go unnoticed by Daichi, who presses a kiss to your shoulder. Daichi pulls you backwards on the bed so you are face-to-face with Bokuto. Bokuto spits into your mouth and closes the gap between you, slotting your lips together in a messy kiss, tongue lapping messily against yours. Both Daichi and Kuroo let out a groan at the sight. You’re so glad you brought this up. Your skin feels tingly, and you’ve never felt anything like this. Bokuto's mouth feels so good against yours, and your doms are enjoying themselves if their heavy thrusts and growling words were anything to go by.

You’re so engrossed in Bokuto's mouth on yours that you don't notice the wand vibrator Daichi’s pulled out from your toybox until he presses it to your clit, causing you to moan and writhe in his grasp. Daichi knows he fucks you well and is never insecure about using toys. He considers any man who sees toys as a threat to be a pussy. Why wouldn't he want you to have toys when they can be helpful in situations like this? How could he hate your toys when he can use them to reduce you to a sobbing mess? He picks up his thrusts, causing your teeth to clash with Bokuto's as you are pushed forward with each hard thrust.

"Come on baby, give me another one" his words spur you on, and you whine embarrassingly loud, earning a condescending laugh from Kuroo. You let out a pathetic moan and push back onto him, practically begging him to go deeper. Your face is pressed into Bokuto's shoulder, and you can feel the coil in your stomach tighten. Bokuto moans in your ear as Kuroo frantically fucks into his tight ass, and the sound makes you clench around your boyfriend.

"fuck, I'm gonna cum” You continue your mindless babbling as Daichi coos filthy words of encouragement in your ear. You can barely hear Bokutos's frantic whimpering as Kuroo lands a harsh spank on his ass because all you can think about is cumming. When your orgasm finally washes over you, you bite down on Bokuto's shoulder to stop a sob from escaping your throat. The pleasurable sting of your teeth helps push Bokuto towards his orgasm. His asshole clenches around Kuroo's cock at the feeling.

"Shit, so fucking tight."

Your head falls to the mattress beneath you as Bokuto lets out a long, high-pitched whine followed by a loud string of curses. Daichis frantic praise is the only signal you get before he cums, emptying his balls inside your hot little cunt.

Bokuto had made a mess of your bed, and you aren't any different. Both of you have little time to breathe and fully recover before the wand is passed to Kuroo, who presses it against Bokuto's balls and reaches his hand around to play with his still-hard cock.

Daichi toys with your pussy, rubbing your clit and curling his fingers inside your cunt. He leans down to suck and bite at your ass and thighs, marking his territory. He waits until you’re at your brink, aided by the sounds Bokuto makes, and pulls his fingers away from you. His heart jumps a little at your sad whine. Denying you is so much fun.

Bokuto, however, doesn't get the same treatment. Kuroo seems intent on milking Bokuto dry. He doesn't relent in his pace as he jerks off Bokuto and keeps the vibrator pressed to his balls. Daichi lifts you from your position, holding your neck lightly.

"Watch, baby, see how fucking hot they are."

You watch as Bokuto shiver, growling deep in his throat as he cums once again. He looks so incredible when he cums that you can't help but verbalise it.

"Holy fuck, Kou. You look so good."

Bokuto grins at your praise, looking up at you exhausted. You barely catch his wink as you’re being pushed back down so your chest rubs against the quilt. Kuroo lets Bokuto gain his breath back as he watches you and Daichi. He can't wait to fuck you, to kiss Daichi, to watch Daichi fuck his boyfriend.

Daichi grabs a knife on the bedside table and runs it gently across your ass cheek, pressing enough to leave a thin red mark behind. You whimper quietly, struggling to form a coherent thought.

Daichi steps back to admire your body. He loves seeing you like this. On your knees, displaying your glistening pussy to him. He takes a moment to look at the bite marks and hickeys littering your thighs from both himself and Bokuto and follows them up to your ass cheeks which are red in the centre, and your right cheek shows hints of a bruise. On the left, the thin red line threatened to fade. He mutters out compliments as he situates the blade to your wrists and cuts you free of your bindings, smiling to himself in amusement when you keep your arms behind your back as you don't have the energy to move them.

He rolls you over, smoothes his hand over your legs, and presses kisses to your calf. He is looking at Kuroo, who is using the discarded knife to cut Bokuto free. Daichi has only had one orgasm, and yet he feels blissed out. He doesn't need to cum over and over to feel completely satisfied. He gets off when you get off. Knowing he made you feel this good, hearing you beg for him is enough for him. However, looking at the now untied Bokuto, who is gazing up at the ceiling with a satisfied look on his face, he wants nothing more than to have Bokuto's pretty lips wrapped around his cock.

"You look hungry, Kuroo," he says, still holding your legs. "Want a taste?" Kuroo happily walks around the bed and kneels in front of you. You squirm, knowing you'll probably be too sensitive for oral right now. You moan loudly as Kuroo skillfully licks a stripe up your pussy and clamps his lips around your clit on his way back down. You let out a strangled yell and writhe around despite Kuroo's grip on your hips. It feels so good.

"so, sen-uh fuck, too sensitive", you practically shout, earning a chuckle from Kuroo, who comes up to ask you if you need to stop. You think for a second and then shake your head furiously, he's already started his assault on your clit, and you’re so desperate for more contact that you begin to think that you might combust if he doesn't finish.

"You know you can use your safeword whenever you want to stop or take a break or even just slow down, right?" he asks, making sure you weren't pushing past your limits for his sake. You nod and try to moan at him to go back to what he was doing, but your words get caught in your throat as Kuroo pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, diving back in to lap at your pussy as if it was the last meal he'd ever have. He holds three fingers to your lips and forces them into your mouth. Kuroo groans into your pussy, making you shiver, as you swirl your tongue around his digits, sucking them as if they were his cock. He replaces his fingers with his thumb, grunting as you instinctively bite down in response to a particularly harsh suck of your clit.

On the other side of the bed, Daichi is thrusting into Bokuto's hot mouth. Bokuto is lying on his back with his head over the edge of the bed. Daichi was thrusting into Bokuto's throat like a fleshlight, causing Bokuto to whine and squirm beneath him. Daichi's hand comes down to press against Bokuto’s throat so that he’s practically jerking himself off through Bokuto's throat. When Daichi pulls his cock back, Bokuto takes the fleeting moment of freedom to gasp at any air he can take before Daichi shoves his cock back into Bokuto's eager mouth. Daichi looks down next to Bokuto's pliant body and watches as Kuroo flips you over onto your knees and shoves two fingers into your pussy, licking over the rim of your tight asshole. He teases your tight hole with his thumb as he sucks a purple bruise onto your ass cheek. He moved his mouth back to your ass hole as he thrust his fingers into your used cunt.

Daichi catches sight of the look on your face and almost instantly cums. Your eyes are heavily lidded and slightly crossed, cheeks flushed red and mouth open, leaving a pool of saliva. You look blissed out and drunk on sex. Daichi thinks you look breathtaking. He makes it his mission to see this face whenever you have sex. The thought that someone else is making you make that face should cause a possessive spark to ignite in his stomach, but instead, it makes him feel warm. He finds it so insanely hot that Kuroo can pull such a nasty expression from you. He gives a particularly rough thrust into Bokuto's throat, causing him to gag and moan around Daichi, who's now close to his second orgasm. He watches as your orgasm hits you, and you physically can't scream the way you want, as the only noises coming from you are soft whines and choked moans.

"You're so fucking gorgeous", He growls, picking up his pace in Bokuto's mouth. He thrusts his hips as Bokuto hollows his cheeks. "God, Kou, your throat feels so fucking good", He moans as he shoots ropes of thick cum down Bokuto's throat. He pulls away from Bokuto's throat and leans down to make sure he’s ok as he regains his breath, mumbling praises at him. When he looks up, he sees you on your back as Kuroo grabs the vibrator. Your thighs shake as you struggle to hold your legs up. You're beyond sensitive. A simple pinch on your bare skin could send you over the edge. As soon as you feel the simmering tension in your stomach, Kuroo pulls the wand away with a smirk, denying you the release you so desperately crave.

It's so attractive how much power they held over you.

"let me take over", sighs Daichi, taking the vibrator from Kuroo and pressing it back to your clit. He leans over your body to get a good look at your face. You're making that expression again, which makes heat prickle up his back. He looks at your open mouth, where your tongue is leaving sloppy trails of saliva, and pushes three fingers into your mouth, getting his fingers ready for you. He thrusts his slick fingers into your tight cunt at an angle that has you seeing stars. He knows your body so exceptionally well; it's as much a blessing as it is a curse. He has the ability to manipulate your body as if it were on puppet strings. As soon as he feels you clench around his thick fingers, he pulls the wand away and stills his hand. You attempt to let out a frustrated shriek, but it comes out as a strangled cry, a noise that makes his cock twitch. He gazes at your hole as it clenches around nothing. Once you catch your breath, he continues thrusting his fingers inside you and switches the angle of his fingers to get as deep as possible, curling them and making you arch your back into him. This time, having entirely regained his energy, Bokuto joins Daichi's assault on your heated, desperate body by licking and flicking at your sensitive nipples. The sensations are overwhelming, and you need release badly. However, it doesn't seem like your boyfriend got the message as, once again, he stops. Your orgasm is ripped from you, and you choke back a sob. This time, you don't shriek or protest. You simply cannot do it. You clench your eyes shut, grit your teeth and let the tears fall. Daichi moans between your legs, clearly pleased with your reactions, and curls his fingers inside you. This time he finally lets you cum, and a strange feeling washes over your body as you gush cum. You sit up the best you can, panting like a bitch in heat, and you finally realise what that feeling was. Daichi is sitting on his knees in front of you, with cum dripping down his chin and onto his chest, and the fluid is sticking his hair to his forehead. You go to apologise to Daichi for squirting on him, but he chuckles and nips at the inside of your thigh with his teeth. Looking up at Kuroo and Bokuto, he gives a satisfied smirk.

"I'm pretty sure I could go all damn night. What about you?" he stands up, pressing his lips to Kuroo's as Bokuto nuzzles his face against yours, whispering praises against your skin to let you know how good you had been and help you come down from an incredibly intense high. You could hear the low moans from Daichi and Kuroo, who were still locked in a deep kiss.

"Can I fuck her? I wanna fuck her pussy so bad," asks Kuroo against his lips. Daichi nods and pulls away, letting Kuroo settle himself between your legs. As soon as the head of his cock breaches your hole, panic rises in your body. As much as you want to continue, your body cannot handle it.

"Orange", you breathe out, and immediately Kuroo pulls out, and Daichi begins to smooth your hair. The room goes oddly silent, waiting for you to speak.

"Tell us what was wrong, baby. Are you hurt?"

"It hurt a little. I just need a break. I don't wanna stop," you say between heavy breaths. They all nod, exchanging glances, and Daichi scoops you up in his arms, pulling you up towards the pillows and cradling you to his chest.

"I'll help her calm down and chill. You keep going, and we'll join when we're ready,” says Daichi. Kuroo has Bokuto on his back and is kissing his neck. You curled into Daichi's chest, letting his heartbeat calm you down. Your previous orgasm was intense, and the aftershocks still linger in your body. Daichi holds a water bottle to your lips, rubbing your back as you drink it. "Such a good girl, you're an absolute angel", he whispers, pressing kisses to your cheek. He helped you catch your breath and cool down.

When your pulse returns to normal, you crawl towards Kuroo and Bokuto. Kuroo’s buried balls deep in Bokuto.

"Can I just watch?" you ask, not yet ready to join them. They nod, and Daichi takes his place at Bokuto's mouth. A strange feeling washes over you, and you feel content like you could watch the scene in front of you forever. You bring your fingers down to rub your clit and tease your hole. You watch Kuroo's forearms tense up, and Daichi's thighs flex as they fuck Bokuto, whose moans are driving you insane. It is stupidly hot to watch this, even though you're watching your boyfriend have sex with someone else. You feel no jealousy whatsoever, just a desperate need to move your fingers faster.

"Princess?" You look up at Kuroo. "Can I have a taste?" His voice is soft- he's still wary of your exhaustion levels- and it spreads warmth throughout your stomach. You nod and crawl over to him. You lean into him a little as he takes your slick, covered fingers in his mouth. He hums at the taste, playing it up a little for Daichi. "your pretty pussy tastes so good, baby" You’re feeling particularly soft and needy right now, and Kuroo seems pretty pleased when you lean up to kiss him. Your kiss with Kuroo is deep and sincere as if he's trying to tell you something. Daichi groans at how pretty you look tangled up in each other, and it comes out as more of a whine. Something in the air has changed, becoming painfully clear to him.

Daichi grins as you crawl over to him, pulling him into an equally emotion-fueled kiss. This feels right. Your hand works its way through Bokuto's hair, giving it a tug which it's obvious he enjoys by the muffled moan he gives around Daichi's cock. Daichi growls into your mouth and begins to thrust harder into Bokuto's throat. You can hear Kuroo throwing praise at Bokuto by the bucket and coaxing him to cum. You decided to do the same with Daichi, knowing he was weak for your voice.

"Please cum. I want you to cum in Bokuto's mouth. Please, Daddy, I love it when you cum" You whimper in his ear as if you're the one he's fucking, and you know you have the effect you want when the hand that isn't occupied by Bokuto's hair wraps around your neck. He pulls you close to his face and is careful not to squeeze.

"Kou, don't swallow," he says to Bokuto as he keeps his rough pace with Bokuto's throat. "You, pretty girl, are gonna bend down to his level and take my cum directly from his mouth since you love my cum so much" The growl of dominance in Daichi's voice is addicting. It makes your stomach do flips. Daichi lets go of your neck and focuses back on his orgasm. Every rut of his hips is accompanied by a muttered curse. "m'cumming", he moans, holding Bokuto's head down on his cock. Daichis arms flex, and his head rolls back, making your stomach flutter. When he pulls out, Kuroo lifts Bokuto slightly so you can crawl beneath him and open your mouth. Bokuto spits a little cum in your mouth and then leans down to slot his lips against yours. You wrap your legs around Bokuto's waist and clutch his hair in your fingers.

"So desperate", murmurs Daichi, who has moved around the bed so he can get a proper view of you and Bokuto swapping his cum between you. You swallow down the cum and give a satisfied grin. Every slam of Kuroo's cock inside Bokuto sends his cock rutting against your slick folds. You whine at the friction. Kuroo moves his hands back to Bokuto's hips, and Bokuto's head drops down to your neck, sucking a mark into the skin. The noises you make every time the head of his cock bumps your clit are swallowed by his mouth as he comes back up to kiss you.

"fuck, you're so pretty", he moans into the kiss. "I'm gonna cum, fuck, I need to cum so bad. Tetsu, please" Bokuto's whines were becoming incomprehensible as he approached his orgasm. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and he shoots ropes of cum all over your bare stomach. It's a beautiful sight in Daichi's mind. Kuroo is pushed over the edge pretty soon after, and he lets out a gorgeous low groan as he empties his balls inside Bokuto. Your body's getting warmer, and the tingly, almost overwhelming sensation is rising. You feel as if you exist on a whole different plane. Bringing this up to Daichi was the best decision you have ever made. You feel Daichi wipe the cum off of your stomach and when he finishes, he swipes his fingers through your sopping pussy.

"You're so fucking wet. You're insatiable, huh?" he chuckles from deep in his throat. "Bokuto lay down."

You crawl on top of Bokuto, hovering your pussy above his thick cock. You line him up and sink on him. His cock stretches you perfectly, and when he bottoms out, you arch into him, burying your face in his neck. You whimper into his skin at how good he felt inside you.

"You ready, baby?" you can feel the lust dripping from Daichi's voice as he pushes a lubed-up finger into your asshole. You moan pathetically as he thrusts another finger in, preparing you for his cock.

"C'mon, Daichi, she's squeezing me so tight. Can't you go any faster?" Bokuto’s trying so hard not to rut his hips up into you. Daichi opens the lube again, squirts a generous amount on his hand, and jerks himself a few times so that he is properly lubed up.

"I'm gonna start now, okay baby?" Daichi gives a small warning before pushing his fat cock past the rim of your tight little asshole. The stretch is foreign but not unwelcome. You're feeling unbelievably full, and he's only halfway in. You try to verbalise the feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you are speechless, unable to produce anything other than whines and broken moans of their names. You weren't sure if you could take them both all the way.

"How you feelin' baby girl?" he asks as he pushes himself three-quarters of the way in. You reach back to claw at him to let him know you were feeling full. It was a silent warning that you couldn't take much more. "easy baby, easy", he cooed, calming you down and rubbing your hips. "Just let me know if it gets too much, okay?"

You nod in response, and your eyes roll back into your head as he pushes the last of his cock inside you. You feel insanely full. It's a new sensation for you. They give you a few moments to adjust in which all three men coo praises at you, letting you know how much of a good girl you are for taking both cocks.

They start to set a decent pace inside you, alternating their thrusts so that you are never empty. Kuroos is not sure he could get any harder, but watching all three of you become desperate, horny little messes has his head swimming. He waits until they set a more comfortable pace, and you get accustomed to the feeling before adding himself to the fray.

"You've got another hole for me to fill, haven't you, princess?" he asks, cocking his head at you. You obediently drop your jaw and waste no time in wrapping your lips around his perfect cock. Kuroo curses as you take him deeper and threads a hand through your hair, opting to pet your head instead of harshly tugging. "such a perfect little mouth."

You're filled up and overwhelmed by the three men inside you. Their combined scents are making you dizzy. It's incredible. You attempt to bob your head on Kuroo's cock, desperate to make him feel good, too, and you receive an appreciative head pat in return. You can't do much else, and your body's busy responding to Daichi and Bokuto. Both men are hitting deep spots inside you, chasing their orgasms as well as yours. Their cocks sliding in and out of you feel like heaven. There's nothing in the world you want more at this moment than to be filled with their cum. Your velvet walls clench and spasm around their cocks, pulling them deeper and alerting them of your impending orgasm. Kuroo's still ridiculously sensitive after fucking Bokuto, and it doesn't take long for the tight constricting muscles of your throat to pull him over the edge. He pulls out of your mouth once he's finished and cups your face in his hands, telling you how pretty you look as you swallow his cum. You really are the prettiest sight he had ever seen.

"I'm gonna cum", you whimper, gripping Kuroo's arm.

"Do it, Baby, please cum for us", whines Bokuto, who's not far behind you. Daichi's grip on your hips is sure to bruise, but you pay it no mind as your body shakes with the sheer force of your orgasm. You feel like you're floating and never want to lose this feeling. Your walls feel impossibly tight as you gush on their cocks, and they both follow immediately after, grunting as they fill you up with their hot cum. They rub at your skin to calm you down, and both men are careful not to move too much.

"You did such a good job for us, baby girl. I'm so proud of you. I love you so much" Daichis the most vocal in calming you down, and when you finally return to this plain of existence, he gently lifts you off of their cocks, shushing and whispering in your ear as you gasp at the sudden empty feeling. He asks Kuroo to get a damp cloth to clean up your mess. Bokuto crawls over and flops down beside you and Daichi. He has a satisfied grin, but looks like he will pass out any minute.

Kuroo returned with two tea towels and handed one to Daichi. He begins to wipe up the mess on your thighs, apologising when he wipes at your sensitive pussy.

"I love you. You're my everything, you know that? I mean it, baby," he hums happily as you bury your face in his neck and let him go ahead and clean you up. "My pretty girl, my angel. You're so perfect. You are truly the best woman I could ask for, and I love to play with you" his voice is soft and comforting. He puts the cloth aside and tilts your head upwards. "Do you need anything?" You shake your head and grab onto him, wanting nothing more than to drift off to sleep shrouded in the warmth of big, sexy, buff men. You cling to Daichi as he settles himself against the pillows, and shortly after, Bokuto's arm wraps around you. You contently drift off to sleep.

***

Daichi wakes up feeling worn out but satisfied. He stretches and feels you curl further into his side. He loves you so much his heart could burst. He smiles as he looks down at you. You look content and happy. He looks past you to see Bokuto cuddled into your back, spooning you, and his heart skips a beat. He smooths Bokuto's hair, careful not to wake him up. He notices Kuroo's gone and gets up just to check on him. His movement makes you stir and wake up a bit.

"Daichi?" your voice is so tired and small.

"Go back to sleep, baby", he chuckles, kissing your forehead and walking downstairs to see Kuroo making breakfast.

"Hey"

There's a beat of comfortable silence before Kuroo speaks up.

"A line was crossed last night -and I'm

not saying that's a bad thing- but we should talk about it" Daichi nods in agreement, thinking back on how it felt to wake up in the same bed as Bokuto.

"Yeah, last night was more than just sex. Do you want me to wake them up?"

"Nah, I'll get them when I'm finished making breakfast. They need the rest. They'll probably be sore when they get up. Especially Y/N, we exhausted that poor girl.

"Yeah, we should give them some time before we start talking," says Daichi, stretching his arms back. He notices Kuroo staring at him while he stretches. "Don't burn the bacon", he teases, snapping Kuroo's attention away from his chest.

When you appear at the kitchen door in Daichi's shirt with Bokuto in just his boxers, The atmosphere feels peaceful and cosy like this was how it was always supposed to be.

"Thanks, Hot stuff", grins Bokuto, taking a plate of food from Kuroo. You all sit at the table and scarf down your food, as the previous night's activities left you starving.

"How are you?" asks Daichi, raising an eyebrow as you finish your plate.

"Sore and exhausted," you lean back in your chair. All three men look proud of themselves. "But so so good", you add with a satisfied smile.

"Atta girl," smirked Daichi, rubbing your thigh. Bokuto's voice fills the room and causes a somewhat tense silence.

"Are we dating now?"

You look at Daichi, not wanting to admit that the thought of bringing them into your relationship makes you happy. You think about your genuine feelings for them, and Kuroo speaks up.

"I actually wanted to talk about that because I like you, both of you just the same as I like Kou. Last night just really made that clear to me"

You're comforted by the fact that Daichi was smiling. You shyly nod, heat rising in your cheeks. You can't stop a smile of your own from splitting across your face. The others seem to have noticed too because Bokuto rests a hand on your thigh.

"so are we-?"

"Yes," there's a clear answer from everyone. The rest of breakfast is filled with giggling, chatting and date planning. You're quieter, opting to listen to the boys' conversation instead. You're still tired, and you can't quite shake the exhaustion.

"You okay, Princess?" asks Kuroo, "you seem out of it"

"Can we go back to bed? I'm still tired."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

thank you for reading! hope you enjoyed :)

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

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