#i do not know how i drew this it was a fever dream

[xoxoju67]

i slithered here from eden, just to sit outside your door

[mononijikayu]

ligaya — itadori yuuji.

“I’ve tried everything, guys!” Yuuji moaned, his voice muffled against the table. “I sang songs from outside their dorm window! Serenaded them like they do in those old movies! And I even left notes on their locker every day for a week, with little snacks. But nothing! Absolutely nothing! They just keep saying no!” Nobara snorted, taking a sip of her coffee. “Maybe because you’re coming on way too strong? That’s what I’d do if someone kept bugging me. And really, are they even into men?” Megumi sighed, crossing his arms and nodding. “Nobara’s right, though. Are they even into men?” Yuuji’s head shot up, eyes wide and desperate. “They are! They told me! But I don’t want to bug them! I just… I just want them to see how much I care! How much I—” He faltered, feeling the weight of his own words. “How much I love them.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Fluff, Romance, Love At First Sight, Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Friendship, Confessions, Humor, Getting Together, Mutual Affection, Love, Pining, Kissing, Hugging, Track and Field! Yuuji, Pole Vaulter! Reader;

WORDS: 5.3k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: i got the idea for this after i kept seeing olympic couples and olympians and their partners just be the epitome of love in paris. itadori yuuji just felt perfect for something like this. and so does the song ligaya by eraserheads. anyway, i love you all!!! ill see you guys on together. that's about to get sad, but im not sure if it will have sad smut. we shall see~

main masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

 *:゜☆ヽ(*’∀’*)/☆゜:。*。

IF HE SPOKE TO HIS CHILD SELF, HE WOULD NOT BELIEVE IT. Because, how can he explain it? Him? The Itadori Yuuji— head over heels in love. It felt like a fever dream that can only come from fantasies. How could he be in love at all?

How did this even happen? When he swore that he didn’t need that in his life? Over doing his track practice? More than his mother’s food? He thinks that his younger self would have ended up with a coma. Hell, maybe Todo or his brothers — even Uncle Sukuna would be in shock.

Itadori Yuuji never imagined himself as the kind of guy who’d fall head over heels in love. Sure, he was friendly, enthusiastic, and had a smile for just about everyone, but love? It seemed like an impossible notion.

Perhaps an even more ridiculous thing. A feeling that was not for him, not in that way most people dream of. That was for other people, is what he always said—until you transferred into his department. 

The moment Yuuji first laid eyes on you, it was like the world around him faded into the background, leaving only you and the pole vault. He had seen countless athletes, witnessed incredible feats of strength and agility, but nothing prepared him for the sight of you.

The way you moved, your body soaring through the air with effortless grace, made it seem like defying gravity was just second nature to you. To him, it was like watching poetry in motion—a dance between you and the sky.

Something inside him shifted as he watched you clear the bar with ease, your landing smooth and controlled, as if you had done it a thousand times before. In that moment, he felt an unfamiliar pull, a deep, unexplainable connection that made his heart race. You were different—strong, confident, and so completely at ease in your own skin.

It wasn’t just your athleticism that drew him in, though that was certainly part of it. It was the way you seemed to own every moment, how you faced challenges head-on, your eyes always focused on the next goal. There was a fire in you, a determination that Yuuji couldn’t help but admire.

He didn’t know why he felt so drawn to you, why his heart beat a little faster whenever you were near. All he knew was that something had changed, like a switch had been flipped inside him. It didn’t take long for him to realize that he was in deep��so deep that there was no going back.

It was as though he had never truly seen the sun before that moment, like he had been wandering through life in a shadowy half-light, only to look up at you, soaring above the earth, and finally see the full brilliance of day. You were the sun, radiating warmth and light, and for the first time, Yuuji felt truly alive.

So, Yuuji did what he did best—he jumped in with both feet, headfirst and heart open, determined to win you over. It was how he approached everything in life, with boundless energy and optimism, believing that if he just gave it his all, anything was possible. He didn’t hesitate to show you how much you meant to him, wearing his heart on his sleeve, unafraid to make grand gestures.

He showed up at your practices, cheering you on, even when you barely acknowledged him. He left notes in your locker, little reminders that he was thinking of you, that he was rooting for you, no matter what. He even stood outside your dorm window one night, singing a goofy love song, hoping to make you smile.

But you kept saying no.

Each time, you turned him down, politely but firmly. You appreciated his efforts, you said, but you were focused on your sport, on your goals. There wasn’t room for distractions, and you couldn’t afford to let anyone—no matter how sweet or determined—get in the way of what you were trying to achieve.

Yuuji understood, or at least he tried to. But it didn’t make it any easier. Every “no” felt like a small cut, stinging just a bit more than the last. But despite the rejection, Yuuji couldn’t bring himself to stop. There was something about you, something that kept pulling him back, making him want to try again, to prove that he could be the one to make you happy.

And it wasn’t the kind of no that meant “maybe later” or “try harder,” it was a clear, polite, and definitive no. You were kind about it, of course, always smiling and thanking him for the effort, but Yuuji could see through it. Because that’s who you were. You were sunshine itself.

And so each time, even if it became repetitive, you smiled at him and treated him kindly. Even though you weren’t interested, you were interested in being his friend and perhaps, he could live with that. But something in him, the most honest part of him knew that he couldn’t let go. 

Each time you turned him away, Yuuji felt the sting, but he also felt the same determination rising within him. He wasn’t discouraged; he was driven. He saw each rejection as a challenge, a new hurdle to overcome, much like the ones he faced on the track.

And just like in his races, he wasn’t going to back down until he crossed the finish line. To Yuuji, it wasn’t about winning you over for the sake of it—it was about showing you that someone could care that much, that deeply, and that no matter how many times he fell, he’d always get back up. Because to him, you were worth every effort, every bruise, and every tear.

Today here he was, sitting in the school’s café, his head on the table, groaning as Megumi Fushiguro and Nobara Kugisaki sat across from him, trying their best to look patient. They were supposed to be working on their on class presentation for Cardiorespiratory Fitness by now, but with Yuuji being an utter lovestruck mess — his two friends were sure that they wouldn’t be able to get any work done.

“I’ve tried everything, guys!” Yuuji moaned, his voice muffled against the table. “I sang songs from outside their dorm window! Serenaded them like they do in those old movies! And I even left notes on their locker every day for a week, with little snacks. But nothing! Absolutely nothing! They just keep saying no!”

Nobara snorted, taking a sip of her coffee. “Maybe because you’re coming on way too strong? That’s what I’d do if someone kept bugging me. And really, are they even into men?”

Megumi sighed, crossing his arms and nodding. “Nobara’s right, though. Are they even into men?”

Yuuji’s head shot up, eyes wide and desperate. “They are! They told me! But I don’t want to bug them! I just… I just want them to see how much I care! How much I—” He faltered, feeling the weight of his own words. “How much I love them.”

Megumi raised an eyebrow. “Love? Yuuji, that’s pretty heavy. Are you sure it’s love?”

Yuuji nodded, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I think I really do. I just want to be part of their world, you know? Make them happy, love them. I’d even help with their thesis if that’s what it takes! And that says a lot, because we’re on different levels! They’re smarter!”

Nobara rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of sympathy in her expression. “You can’t make someone love you, Yuuji. Maybe you should back off a bit and just be their friend. They might appreciate that more.”

Yuuji sighed, his shoulders slumping as he thought about it. The idea of stepping back, of not doing everything he could to win you over, made his heart ache. He had poured so much of himself into trying to make you see how much he cared, but maybe Nobara was right.

“But what if they never see me as more than that?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “What if I’m just that annoying guy who keeps bothering them?”

Nobara softened at his vulnerability. She wasn’t used to seeing Yuuji like this—so unsure, so worried. “Yuuji, you’re not annoying. Well, not more than usual.” she said, her tone gentler than before.

"Hey!"

“But listen, you’re sweet, and anyone can see how much you care. But sometimes, people need space. They need time to figure out their own feelings without any pressure. If you really care about them, you’ll give them that space.”

Yuuji nodded slowly, but the doubt lingered. He had always been the type to go all in, to give everything he had to the people he cared about. Holding back didn’t come naturally to him. “I just don’t want to lose them.” he admitted, his voice almost a whisper.

Megumi, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up, his tone measured and calm. “Yuuji, you won’t lose them by giving them space. In fact, it might be what they need to see you in a different light. But you have to be patient, and you have to respect their choice.”

Yuuji looked at Megumi, searching his friend’s eyes for reassurance. “But what if they never change their mind? What if they never see me the way I see them?”

Megumi leaned forward, his gaze steady and full of understanding. “Then you have to accept that.” he said firmly. “It’s hard, I know. But you can’t force someone to feel something they don’t. If they ever change their mind, they’ll let you know. But until then, don’t push too hard. It’ll only make things worse.”

Yuuji absorbed Megumi’s words, the weight of them settling heavily in his chest. He knew Megumi was right—it wasn’t fair to push you into something you weren’t ready for, or maybe something you didn’t want at all. But the thought of just being your friend, of stepping back, felt like giving up on something he wanted more than anything.

Nobara reached out, placing a hand on Yuuji’s shoulder. “Look, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but sometimes, being a good friend is more important than trying to be something more. If you really care about them, you’ll be there for them, no matter what. And who knows? Maybe that’s what they need to realize how special you are.”

Yuuji looked between his two friends, their words sinking in. It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but deep down, he knew it was the right one. “Okay,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with resignation. “I’ll back off… but I won’t stop caring.”

Megumi nodded approvingly. “That’s all you can do, Yuuji. Just be yourself, and let them come to you if they’re ready.”

Nobara smiled, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “And remember, you’re not alone in this. We’re here for you, no matter what happens.”

Yuuji managed a small smile, the weight in his chest easing just a little. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.” 

Nobara nodded approvingly, while Megumi gave a small, almost imperceptible smile. Yuuji might have been hopelessly in love, but at least he was starting to understand that sometimes, the best way to love someone was to let them come to you in their own time. And he’ll be patient. He knows how to do that. His brother Choso taught him how to be. 

As they continued to sit together, Yuuji couldn’t help but feel a mix of hope and uncertainty. He didn’t know what the future held, but he was grateful for friends who would support him through it all. For now, he’d focus on being the best friend he could be. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough. It had to be. He believes it to be.

Over the next few days, Yuuji did his best to dial things back. He still watched you from afar during practice, his heart skipping a beat every time you cleared the bar with that effortless grace. But instead of approaching you with grand gestures or serenades, he tried to be more subtle, more considerate. 

He’d offer a friendly wave when you caught his eye and cheer you on quietly during your pole vaulting sessions. Every now and then, he’d strike up casual conversations, asking how your day was going or chatting about track and field events. It wasn’t easy, though. Every time he saw you, he had to fight the urge to blurt out how he felt, to tell you that all he wanted was to be with you. 

One afternoon, you were sitting on a bench after practice, cooling down and scrolling through your phone when Yuuji approached you cautiously. He noticed that you seemed a little tired, maybe even a bit stressed.

“Hey.” he said, trying to keep his tone light and nonchalant. “How’s it going? You look like you could use a break.”

You glanced up at him, offering a small smile. “Yeah, just a bit tired. Been working on my thesis, and it’s been kind of a headache.”

Yuuji’s eyes lit up. This was it—an opportunity to help you without being too pushy. “Really? What’s it about? Maybe I could help somehow?”

You hesitated for a moment, and Yuuji’s heart raced, hoping you wouldn’t shut him down again. But then you sighed and leaned back on the bench. “It’s about the biomechanics of pole vaulting, actually. I’m trying to analyze different techniques and how they affect performance, but the data’s all over the place.”

Yuuji nodded, trying to focus on what you were saying rather than the fact that you were actually talking to him about something important. “That sounds tough. But hey, I’m pretty good at organizing stuff—maybe I could help you sort through the data or something?”

To his surprise, you didn’t immediately say no. Instead, you looked at him thoughtfully, as if weighing your options. “You really want to help?”

“Of course!” Yuuji said quickly, not wanting to sound too eager but failing miserably. “I mean, only if you want me to. I don’t want to, you know, be a bother.”

You chuckled softly, the sound making his heart skip a beat. “Alright, Yuuji. I could use an extra pair of eyes on this. But just so you know, it’s going to be boring. Like, really boring.”

Yuuji grinned, feeling a surge of hope. “Boring’s fine with me. As long as I can help you out.”

Over the next few weeks, you and Yuuji spent more time together, working on your thesis. He was true to his word—organizing data, making notes, and offering encouragement whenever you hit a rough patch. He didn’t push his feelings, didn’t try to force anything. Instead, he focused on being there for you, just as Megumi and Nobara had suggested.

And as time went on, you started to see a different side of Yuuji. He wasn’t just the guy who sang outside your window or left notes in your locker. He was kind, patient, and genuinely interested in your work. He made you laugh, and he always seemed to know when you needed a break or a bit of encouragement.

One evening, after hours of working on your thesis, you were utterly exhausted. The words on the screen blurred together, your eyes heavy with sleep. You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you.

Yuuji, who had been quietly organizing some of your research papers, noticed the slump in your shoulders and the tired sigh that escaped your lips. Without a word, he stood up and walked over to you.

“Hey,” he said softly, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You’ve been at this for hours. Why don’t you take a break?”

You shook your head, trying to muster the energy to keep going. “I can’t. I still have so much to do, and the deadline is coming up fast.”

Yuuji crouched down beside you, his eyes filled with concern. “I know, but you’re going to burn yourself out if you keep pushing like this. Just a short break, okay? I’ll make you some tea, and we can relax for a bit.”

Before you could protest, Yuuji was already in the kitchen, brewing a pot of your favorite tea. You watched him move with practiced ease, grateful for his presence. When he returned, he handed you a steaming mug and smiled. “Here, drink this. It’ll help you relax.”

You took the mug, feeling the warmth seep into your hands, and let out a tired sigh. “Thanks, Yuuji. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Yuuji’s smile softened as he pulled a blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over your shoulders. “You don’t have to do everything on your own, you know. I’m here to help. And right now, you need to rest.”

He gently guided you to the couch, where you reluctantly settled down, your exhaustion finally catching up with you. Yuuji sat beside you, his presence comforting and reassuring. As you sipped your tea, the tension in your body began to ease, your eyelids growing heavier by the second.

Yuuji noticed the way you were fighting to stay awake, and with a soft chuckle, he reached out and lightly ruffled your hair. “It’s okay if you want to close your eyes for a bit. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You looked at him, his warm eyes and gentle smile, and suddenly, you didn’t feel so overwhelmed anymore. The stress that had been weighing you down seemed to lift, replaced by a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Maybe just for a little while, you know?” you mumbled, already feeling yourself drifting off.

Yuuji nodded, watching as your eyes slowly closed, your breathing evening out as sleep took over. He stayed by your side, keeping watch as you slept, ready to offer support the moment you needed it. And as he looked at you, peaceful and relaxed, he felt a deep sense of contentment. This was all he wanted—to be there for you, to make sure you were okay, to be part of your world in whatever way you would allow.

As the evening turned into night, Yuuji gently adjusted the blanket around you, making sure you were comfortable. He leaned back against the couch, feeling the steady rhythm of your breathing beside him, and smiled to himself. He didn’t need anything else. As long as he could be there for you, that was enough.

When you woke up the next morning, your eyes fluttered softly against the sunlight streaming in through the window. You felt warmth beside you, and as you turned your head, inches away was Itadori Yuuji, still fast asleep. He was snoring softly, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

For a moment, you just watched him, taking in the peaceful expression on his face. You’d never noticed before how calm and serene everything felt when he was around. It was as if all the chaos in your mind quieted just by being near him.

A soft sigh escaped your lips, almost one of relief. You were glad that it was him—that he was the one who stayed with you, who was always there. This sweet angel, who had gone out of his way to support you, to make sure you were okay.

“I might as well cook you some breakfast.” you whispered to yourself, smiling at the thought. You carefully stood up, making sure not to wake him. As you passed by him, you couldn’t resist letting your fingers brush lightly through his fuchsia hair. “You worked hard, Yuuji.” you murmured, your voice filled with affection.

You made your way to the kitchen, the lingering warmth of his presence still wrapping around you. As you started preparing breakfast, the sound of sizzling eggs and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the small space. It wasn’t long before you heard a soft rustling from the couch, followed by a sleepy yawn.

Yuuji appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes, his hair adorably tousled. When he saw you, a bashful smile spread across his face, and his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “Good….morning.” he greeted you timidly, still half-asleep.

You turned to him, returning his smile. “Good morning, Yuuji. Did at least manage to sleep somewhat okay?”

He nodded, his gaze drifting to the breakfast you were preparing. “Yeah, I did. Thanks… for everything.”

You set down the spatula and walked over to him, your heart warming at his shy demeanor. “No, Yuuji, thank you…..” you said earnestly, your eyes shining. “Thank you for helping me with everything. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Yuuji’s blush deepened, and he quickly waved off your gratitude as he rubbed the back of his head. “It’s nothing, really. I’m just glad I could help.”

You shook your head, stepping closer until you were standing right in front of him. “It’s not nothing, Yuuji. It’s a big deal to me. You’ve been here, doing all this because… because you’re a good person. And I know it’s also because you like me.”

His eyes widened slightly, and he opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, you continued, your voice growing softer, more vulnerable. “I… I feel something for you too, Yuuji. I didn’t realize it before, but… I do. It’s just… I want to take things slow.”

You lowered your gaze, suddenly feeling shy, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. You didn’t know what he would say, or how he would react, but you needed to be honest with him.

Yuuji stood there for a moment, processing your words. Then, a gentle smile spread across his face, his eyes softening with warmth. “I understand.” he said quietly. He reached out, taking your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We can take it as slow as you need. I’m just happy to know you feel something for me too.”

You looked up at him, relief and happiness washing over you. His hand in yours was warm, comforting, and in that moment, you knew you had made the right choice. “Thank you, Yuuji,” you whispered.

He shook his head, still smiling. “No, thank you. For letting me be part of your world.”

As you stood there, holding hands in the morning light, the aroma of breakfast filling the air, everything felt just right. There was no rush, no pressure—just the promise of something real, something that could grow into something beautiful, one step at a time.

 *:゜☆ヽ(*’∀’*)/☆゜:。*。

YOU MADE IT THE OLYMPICS, THE TWO OF YOU. The day you found out you had qualified for the Olympics felt like a dream. All the hard work, the long hours of training, the sacrifices—it had all paid off. You were going to the Olympics. And as if the universe had planned it, Yuuji had qualified too, in track and field. It was a moment of pure joy, a culmination of everything you’d both worked so hard for. 

But what you hadn’t expected was the way your feelings for Yuuji would grow, almost as if they were catching up to the realization that he had been right there beside you all along.

You admired his determination, his relentless positivity, but you kept your distance, unsure if you could let someone in when you were so focused on your goals. Yet, Itadori Yuuji never wavered. He was at every pole vault tournament, even the ones miles away, often booking tickets last minute just to make sure he was there.

Even if he has to move around stuff for his own practice, even if he had other projects he had to do. It didn't matter. He wanted to be there. He wanted to go and see you and cheer you on. And every time, without fail, whether you won or lost, he would be in the front row, holding flowers and a letter, his bright smile shining through the crowd. 

At first, you didn’t know how to react. How does one manage to, when such devoted acts are offered to you so genuinely, in front of the world? How would one function, when there’s so much love given by one person that it could fill the world with pints of it. You were touched, truly. But of course I was also confused. You could feel your palms sweaty, when he tries to take your hand to hold. Or when he smiles, you feel like you have butterflies in your tummy. 

Was this really just a crush for him? What are crushes supposed to be like? You don’t think you remember. The last time you had a crush, it was on a 2D anime character. And that’s not a real experience. Or was it something more? You had to think it through. You care about him deeply, you do. But what do you actually feel for him? What does he actually mean to you? What is he to you?

Over time, though, as you saw how much he truly cared—not just about you as an athlete, but as a person—you started to see him differently. You noticed how he never pressured you, how he respected your space, but always made it clear that he was there for you, no matter what.

You began to anticipate his presence at your tournaments, looking forward to seeing his face in the crowd. His letters, filled with words of encouragement and affection, became something you treasured, often reading them late at night when you needed a boost.

And then, one day, as you stood on the podium after a particularly grueling tournament, looking out into the crowd, your eyes locked with Yuuji’s. He was holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, his smile as radiant as ever, but there was something in his eyes—a mixture of pride, love, and unwavering support—that made your heart skip a beat. 

In that moment, you realized that you had fallen for him. 

It wasn’t just his persistence or his kindness; it was the way he made you feel seen and valued, both on and off the field. He didn’t just love you for your achievements—he loved you for who you were, even when you were at your lowest. And that was something you couldn’t ignore anymore.

After the ceremony, you found Yuuji waiting for you, just like he always did. He handed you the flowers, a bashful smile on his face. “You were amazing out there, you know!” he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “But you always are.”

You took the flowers, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the compliments. “Thanks, Yuuji.” you said softly, looking up at him. “For everything. I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much it means to me that you’re always here.”

His eyes widened slightly, surprised by the shift in your tone. “You don’t have to thank me, pretty.” he said quickly. “I just… I just want to be there for you, you know? I care about you. A lot.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath as you felt the words you’d been holding back finally rise to the surface. “I know. And I care about you too, Yuuji. More than I realized.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, as if trying to process what you were saying. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face—one of pure, unfiltered joy. “Really?”

You smiled back, feeling a sense of certainty wash over you. “Really. I think… I think I’ve fallen for you, Yuuji.”

His reaction was immediate—he pulled you into a tight hug, lifting you off your feet as he spun you around, laughing like he’d just won the lottery. When he finally set you down, he looked at you with such adoration that it made your heart flutter. 

“I’ve been waiting to hear that for so long!” he admitted, his voice shaking with emotion. “But it was worth it. Every single second. You will always be worth it. All of it.”

As you stood there, surrounded by the noise of the crowd and the smell of fresh flowers, you realized that your dream had come true in more ways than one. You had qualified for the Olympics, yes, but you had also found something even more precious—someone who loved you for who you were, someone who would stand by your side no matter what. And as you leaned in to kiss Yuuji, you knew that this was just the beginning of something truly beautiful.

 *:゜☆ヽ(*’∀’*)/☆゜:。*。

epilogue 

The energy at the Olympic Stadium was electric, buzzing with anticipation as the final race approached. You sat in the stands, surrounded by a sea of spectators, but your focus was entirely on the track below. Itadori Yuuji stood at the starting line, his gaze steady, his body coiled like a spring ready to launch.

You knew how much this race meant to him—how much he’d poured into his training, how every ounce of his determination was about to be unleashed in those few, crucial seconds.

The announcer’s voice boomed across the stadium, signaling the start, and you held your breath, your heart pounding in sync with the cheers around you. Then, the gun fired, and Yuuji shot forward, a blur of speed and power. The crowd roared, but you were barely aware of it, your eyes locked on him, silently urging him on.

He moved like lightning, his form perfect, his strides long and powerful. You could see the intensity in his every movement, the sheer will driving him forward. As he rounded the final bend, you knew—he was going to do it. He was going to break the world record.

The crowd was on its feet, the noise deafening as Yuuji crossed the finish line, the clock stopping at a time that stunned everyone. A world record. Yuuji had just shattered it.

But even before the cheers had fully erupted, Yuuji’s eyes were scanning the stands, searching for you. The moment he spotted you, he didn’t hesitate. Ignoring the cameras, the officials, and the chaos around him, he sprinted toward you, leaping over the barrier with ease.

And then he was there, in front of you, his chest heaving, sweat glistening on his brow, but his smile was brighter than you’d ever seen it. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms and kissed you, his lips crashing against yours with a passion that took your breath away. The world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you in that perfect moment.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were shining with a mixture of disbelief and pure joy. He laughed, a sound filled with triumph and love, and then he threw his arms up in the air, shouting, “I did it! I did it! I’ve got you and a medal! This is the best day of my life, oh my god!"

The crowd around you erupted into applause and cheers, but all you could focus on was Yuuji—his infectious energy, the way his hands were still holding onto you like he couldn’t believe you were real. His happiness was contagious, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him, tears of joy filling your eyes.

“You did it, Yuuji!” you whispered, your voice choking with emotion. “Babe, you broke the world record. I’m so proud of you.”

He grinned, pulling you close again, this time resting his forehead against yours. “None of this would’ve meant anything without you here. You’re the one I wanted to share this with. You’re my everything, pretty.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice making it clear just how much this moment—and you—meant to him. 

“I love you, Yuuji.” you said softly, cupping his face in your hands.

“I love you too.” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “And this… this is just the beginning. We’ve got so much more to look forward to—together.”

As you stood there, holding each other amidst the chaos and celebration of the Olympic Stadium, you knew that you had found something far greater than any medal or record.

You had found the person who would stand by your side, through every challenge and triumph, the one who had captured your heart with his unwavering love and dedication. And as Yuuji lifted you off the ground, spinning you around with pure, uncontainable joy, you realized that you had truly won in every way that mattered.

[anadiasmount]

ex-bf!trent who doesn’t want u to leave after having sex

so what - taa blurb.

psa 🗣️: something small before i post dad! trent… also not proofread so im sorry 🙂‍↕️🤗

trent exhaled a sigh, his hand brushing up and down your bare arm, tucking you closer. you felt him rest his cheek on your temple, as you drew shapes along his bare chest, not knowing what to say but having to urge to say so much. the white thin sheets not covering you both entirely or what you had just done.

it’s like you could sense it, you knew trent from the back of your hand. his likes, dislikes, his pleasure, hobbies, emotions, everything. and now wasn’t any different than from when you were together. just now it felt like the past and you hated it because now it was different and so much damage was done.

it was a week ago when he put all his ego and hidden feelings aside. manning up and showing up to your doorstep just to be surprised you had just gone on a date. elegant makeup and hair. your outfit. it felt like a fever dream. though you allowed him to come in, for him letting to seek and pour out his feelings to you because you were the only person he felt safe and comfortable doing that with.

a week since you set boundaries with him and agreed on just sex with him. that it was all you could offer each other no matter the price tag it carried. was it wrong? yes. did it feel right? more than you could imagine.

“stay with me tonight,” he murmured kissing your forehead, lips longing on the spot. you smiled tiredly, knowing you could stay but it didn’t feel right. you would be up the entire night overthinking about what had happened and you couldn’t trust yourself entirely if you did stay with him.

“i can’t trent, i have to work…” you lied and sighed deeply, pushing yourself a bit though it felt impossible when all you wanted and felt was to sink into his embrace and not look back. for him to protect and keep you safe like he once had and promised.

“just work? or are you gonna avoid me,” he said making you roll your eyes at his tone. “i don’t owe you any explanations on what i do or don’t. we agreed on just sex,” you pointed looking up where his face softened. “don’t do that trent,” you pushed yourself up, hearing trent groan before pulling you back down to his chest.

“why can’t i just hold you like this. just for tonight,” he offered but you shook your head. “because that would mean something more than what we promised. we’re not together anymore, you don’t have to pretend to care,” you said directly, your words stinging trent’s heart. when had you become so cold?

“but i do care.”

“but you don’t. not when i needed you to anyway. there’s no point of trying to fix what’s already broken,” you say with no emotion. you learned that the hard way. you were used to the disappointment but when it came from trent that was just the tip of the iceberg. you didn’t want to be vulnerable anymore. you didn’t deserve it because you had so much more to live up to. trent couldn’t live up to the standards even after how much you begged and pleaded.

“that’s not fair, you haven’t given me a chance to show we aren’t like how you think, y/n.”

“i’m not doing this again trent. i gave you so much time for you to explain and prove yourself when i gave you the chance but you refused because you weren’t ready. that’s not my problem anymore, you knew how i felt when coming into this. no feelings just sex.”

“how am i supposed not to feel anything, y/n? you’re my ex girlfriend!”

you scoffed pushing away the sheets and grabbing your clothes to dress yourself again. this was the cons to what you agreed. you knew and felt that it wasn’t quite over with the two of you just yet. but this felt better than actually being together. you still had him but there was no label to it, this time things were different and you were gonna stand on that for your sake.

though all you longed and wished was to be back how it was when you first met. the late night dates, his lips brushing and kissing over your knuckles, trent’s shy smiles when you complimented him, making ever longing memories and promises for one day. those that now won’t be able to come true when you had the courage to put your foot down and end it.

it was all going down hill. you never saw him anymore, he treated you like a plate for a second table, trent was there physically but not mentally. you tried and fought, the many late night tears and seeking of advice, but there was so much you could and have done but in the end you gave up and called it quits. to protect yourself from further damage.

“i knew this was gonna happen,” you blurted to yourself, trying to calm the ache in your head yet also the nerves that built in your veins. you heard trent shuffle around the bed then looking at him with his black calvin’s on. “y/n wait, let’s talk this out.”

why was he fighting for you now? why did he bother when this was all you asked for in the past? for him to communicate his thoughts and feelings.

“no trent, i’m done talking. i did that all before and im not here to do again just because you want me to stay,” you said while putting on your shirt. “it’s not just about staying. i finally have you to myself and want to protect that. i just want to be with you right now,” trent pleaded, coming over to your side where you hid your face away from him. knowing if stared into him it was capable of you to stay.

“we made a promise,” your voice broke, just like trent’s hopes were as you continued to speak. “i just want to have control of one thing in my life and heart. i can’t do this again if it mean the same outcome trent. we don’t deserve that. we fought so hard, and we’d be repeating history again.”

“but isn’t that the point? for us not to repeat it because we have full control of that? of our thoughts and feelings? of our love for each other? i wasn’t ready then. the night of our breakup or a week ago when this all began. i can’t lie to you, when i saw you again i made a promise to you and myself y/n… i just want you… i’m ready now,” his brown eyes bore into yours making it so difficult, every bone in your body wanting to give it.

“trent-” you warned sadly.

“you said you did all the talking, now it’s my turn, but i can’t do that if you don’t allow me to baby,” trent was ready to get on his knees and beg you. to beg you to stay, to beg you to hear him out, to beg you to love him like you once did. he was ready to risk it all just for you. doing the utterly most to show you.

“stay with me tonight, it’s a start for a new us…”

[buckets-and-trees]

A thot!

Curtis, with his face buried in the crook of your neck, his humid breath panting against your skin as he cums with a groan and frantically pumps you full of his cream.

Okay, bye! 👋🏻😘

I don't thin you intended to poke my muse specifically for our lake Creature Curtis, but I don't think you will complain about it either. 😏Just know that this has been growing in my head for a few weeks now...

Never Going Back Again Characters/Pairings: Bolotnik!Curtis x curvy!Reader Word Count: 3.7k Summary: One night near the lake has changed everything.

Content/Warnings: explicit smut - oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal intercourse, breeding; breeding kink; Curtis's tail; teratophilia/monster fucking; size kink

Notes: This is a follow up piece to this ask about a lake monster CE character, but you could theoretically read this on its own. This is also another piece in my Countdown to Chris-mas collection.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

When you were small, you and your sister had sat up late so many nights curled up in the window seat of the small bedroom you shared, and looked out over the trees out to the shores of the seemingly infinite lake. Sometimes you could see pockets of water glowing out across the wide, blue darkness. Sometimes there were dancing lights along the shore. The lake was integral to your town’s way of life, providing fish, connecting you through trade to other towns and countries, and nourishing the plant life along its edges. 

As a child, those nights in the window had been frequent, both of you enchanted with the water and with the sky of stars and the moonlight. You had never given up the practice entirely, but as you’d both grown, sleeping hours had grown more appreciated. 

But now you sat up again far too late every night looking out over the water. 

Where he came from. 

There were old stories told about creatures in the mountains, in the forest, in the lake, under the bed, in the closet, living in the attic… too many cautionary tales told keep children in line and to grow up wisely. 

But now that you knew there was at least one man from the lake, you wondered how much of at least his folklore was true, and how much more you didn’t yet know. 

And, most importantly, how much would affect you.

Because you had been enormously affected by him already.

Foolishly lured away from the safety of others along the shoreline, snatched by a bolotnik, your virginity not only taken, but your body used, ruined, and exploited for pleasure all night. For by the end of it all, you could not deny you had succumbed to the pleasure he wrought from you, even though he was still terrifying.

And so you watched each night from your window, unsure what to do.

You couldn't shake the memory of his touch, the way he had made you feel things you'd never imagined. Each night as you gazed out at the dark waters, a part of you hoped to see those mesmerizing lights dancing on the surface again.

But weeks passed with no sign of him. You began to wonder if it had all been some fevered dream. Yet your body remembered - the soreness between your legs, the marks on your skin that had slowly faded. And there was something else, a change you couldn't quite place.

Your courses didn't come. Panic rose in your throat when you realized what that likely meant. But there was a chance his seed hadn’t taken. Your bleeding had come late or not come at all before. And it had taken your sister a fair amount of time until she had born her first child while diligently trying with her husband.

Still, you placed a hand on your belly, wondering if there was new life growing inside you. The child of a monster. Your child.

Though it was the water your eyes relentlessly looked to, a flash of movement in the trees drew your gaze. Heart pounding, you peered at the edge of the forest near your family’s home. For a long moment, nothing stirred. Then you saw it - movement among the underbrush.

A shadow detached itself from the trees, moving with an unnatural grace. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized the hulking form of Curtis. He emerged into a patch of moonlight, his scales glinting, eyes fixed on your window.

Your heart raced. For a moment, you froze, unsure what to do. Part of you wanted to flee, to wake your family and raise the alarm. But another part, a part you were ashamed to acknowledge, felt a thrill of excitement at seeing him again.

Before you could decide, he was striding forward, pausing only for a moment at the edge of your family’s property, those eerie, impossibly bright, blue eyes fixed on your window. Then he continued forward. Even from a distance, you could see the way his muscles rippled as he moved. His tail swished behind him, hypnotic in its motion.

Your breath caught in your throat as the creature approached your home. Every instinct screamed at you to run, to hide, to call for help. But you remained frozen, transfixed by his otherworldly presence.

In mere moments, he had scaled the side of your house with inhuman agility. His clawed hands gripped the windowsill as he peered inside, those piercing blue eyes locking onto yours.

Without him prompting you, you pushed the window open.

A slow, predatory smile spread across his face.

"Did you miss me, little one?" he purred, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

You almost balked at the term because anyone is little compared to him, but you couldn't find your voice to respond even if you'd wanted in that instant. Your body trembled, caught between fear and a shameful excitement.

With fluid grace, he slipped through the window and past you into your room. He towered over you, his massive form larger than you remembered. The cool night air raised goosebumps on your skin, but it was the intensity of his gaze that made you shiver. You could smell the scent of lake water and earth on his skin.

He reached out, his clawed hand gently cupping your cheek. You flinched at first, but then found yourself leaning into his touch. His skin was cool and slightly damp, reminding you of the lake's waters.

"You've been watching for me," he said, his voice a low rumble. It wasn't a question. "I've seen you at your window night after night."

You nodded, unable to deny it. "I... I wasn't sure if you'd come back," you whispered.

His thumb traced your lower lip, sending a shiver through you. "I told you I would return for what's mine," he said.

His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply, and a knowing smile curved his lips. His gaze dropped to your belly. "And it seems I've left more than just memories with you."

Your hand instinctively went to your stomach. "How can you know?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His chuckle was low and dark. "I can smell the changes in you, little one. Your scent is sweeter now, ripe with new life."

Your breath caught in your throat. So it was true. The suspicion you'd been harboring was confirmed by this creature who could somehow sense what your own body had only begun to whisper.

His hand drifted down to rest on your belly, his touch surprisingly gentle, brushing over your hand.

“Do you have a name?” you asked tentatively.

He smiled, a mixture of amusement and appreciation in his eyes. "Curtis," he replied. "Though I'm surprised you care to know it."

You swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. Part of you was still terrified, but another part was drawn to him, fascinated by this otherworldly creature who had claimed you so thoroughly.

"Curtis," you repeated softly, tasting the name on your tongue. It seemed too ordinary for such an extraordinary being.

His hand moved from your belly to your waist, pulling up from your seat and drawing you close. "And what shall I call you, my sweet human?"

You hesitated, then whispered your name.

"Beautiful," he murmured, leaning down to nuzzle your neck. His breath was cool against your skin, making you shiver. "It suits you."

You gasped as his lips brushed your throat, your body responding to his touch. Your breath hitched as Curtis's lips trailed along your neck, his sharp teeth grazing your sensitive skin. A whimper escaped you, torn between fear and desire.

"Shh," he soothed, his large hand cradling the back of your head. "We don't want to wake your family, do we?"

The reminder of where you were, of the danger, sent a jolt through you. You tried to pull away, but his grip was firm.

"Curtis," you whispered urgently, "we can't - not here."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Oh? And where would you suggest, little one? Back to the lakeshore?"

The memory of that night flooded your senses - the cool grass and earth beneath you, the scent of the water, the overwhelming pleasure. You shuddered, heat pooling low in your belly.

He nipped gently at your earlobe.

"I've thought of you every day since our night together," Curtis murmured, his voice low and husky. "The taste of your skin, the sound of your cries... and if I hadn’t found you with child, I was determined to attempt to breed you again, little one."

You trembled in his arms, torn between fear and a growing desire. His massive form dwarfed you, reminding you of his inhuman strength. Your resolve weakened as Curtis's hands roamed your body, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever he touched. You knew you should resist, should cry out for help, but the words died in your throat. Instead, a soft moan escaped your lips as his fingers traced the curve of your breast through your thin nightgown.

"That's it," he purred, encouraged by your response. "Let yourself feel, little one. Your body remembers the pleasure I gave you."

And it did. Your skin tingled with anticipation, your core aching with need. You pressed closer to him, inhaling his scent of lake water and earth. His tail wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"Curtis," you breathed, your hands tentatively exploring the planes of his muscled chest. "We shouldn't…"

But even as you protested, your body betrayed you. Your nipples hardened as he insistently brushed his thumbs back and forth over each tender nub.

"Please," you whimpered, though you weren't sure if you were begging him to stop or continue.

Curtis lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to your bed. He laid you down, then stepped back to shuck off his meager clothing - only a white shirt and dark pants. In the dim moonlight filtering through the window, his scales glimmered, casting otherworldly patterns across your skin as he loomed over you.

He settled onto the bed, slowly crawling over you. "Hush now," he murmured, a clawed finger tracing your lips. "I'll make you feel good, just as I did before."

Your nightgown was pushed up, exposing your bare skin to the cool night air. Curtis's hands roamed your body, reacquainting himself with every curve and dip. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as his fingers found your most sensitive areas.

"So responsive," he purred, his tail caressing your inner thigh. "Your body remembers me well."

You arched into his touch, shame and desire warring within you. You trembled, both from fear and anticipation, as the cool night air kissed your exposed skin. Curtis's eyes, gleaming in the darkness, roved hungrily over your bumps and curves.

"Gorgeous," he breathed, leaning down to press his lips to your stomach. "My child grows here."

You gasped as his tongue, longer and more dexterous than any human's, swirled around your navel. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider as he settled between them. You could feel the heat of his breath against sex.

"Curtis," you whispered, your voice trembling. "We can't... my family..."

He looked up at you, his blue eyes glowing in the darkness. "Then you'll have to be very quiet, won't you, little one?"

Before you could protest further, his mouth was on you. His tongue, impossibly long and nimble, delved into your folds. You bit down on your fist to stifle a cry of pleasure. Curtis growled approvingly, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core.

Your free hand tangled in the sheets. His tail slithered over your wrist, then wrapped around your thigh, holding you open for his ministrations. You writhed beneath him, struggling to stay quiet.

Curtis's tongue worked magic between your thighs, lapping and probing in ways that made your toes curl. You pressed your fist harder against your mouth, desperately trying to muffle your cries of pleasure. His tail tightened around your thigh, keeping you open as you squirmed beneath him.

"That's it," he murmured against your sensitive flesh. "Let go for me, little one."

Your hips bucked involuntarily as he sucked on your most sensitive bud. The pressure built inside you, a tidal wave threatening to crash over you at any moment. Curtis's fingers joined his tongue, stretching and filling you. The dual sensation was overwhelming.

"Curtis," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can't... I can’t..."

“But you are,” he growled, the vibrations sending you over the edge. Your back arched off the bed as

Your back arched off the bed as pleasure exploded through you. Curtis's mouth stayed locked on your center, drawing out your climax until you were trembling and gasping for air. Only then did he lift his head, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"Stunning," he murmured, crawling up your body. The scales along his torso rubbed against your sensitized skin, sending aftershocks through you. "But we're far from done, little one."

You felt the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, and a mix of fear and anticipation fluttered in your stomach, remembering how painful and then how pleasurable his thick member inside you had been. Curtis nuzzled your neck, inhaling deeply.

"Your scent is intoxicating," he growled. "Especially now, carrying my child."

His hand splayed possessively over your belly. You shivered, torn between the lingering pleasure and the reality of your situation. This creature - this man from the lake - had claimed you in ways you never imagined possible. And now he was here again, in your own bedroom, ready to take every piece of you once more.

Curtis's lips found yours in a searing kiss. His tongue invaded your mouth, tasting of you, of lake water, and something wild. You moaned softly against him, your body responding despite your lingering trepidation.

He pulled back, his blue eyes glowing in the darkness. "Turn over," he commanded softly.

Your heart raced as you obeyed, rolling onto your stomach. Curtis's hands gripped your hips, lifting them. You felt exposed, vulnerable in this position. His tail wrapped around your waist, steadying you.

"So beautiful," he murmured, his hands caressing your back, your sides, your bottom. You shivered at his touch, goosebumps rising on your skin.

You felt the blunt head of his member pressing against your entrance. Despite your earlier climax, you tensed, remembering the initial pain from your first encounter. Curtis sensed your apprehension and leaned over you, his chest pressed to your back.

"Relax, little one," he whispered in your ear. "Your body knows me now. It will welcome me."

Slowly, inexorably, he began to push inside. You bit down on your pillow to muffle your cries as he stretched you, filling you more completely than you thought possible. Your fingers clutched at the sheets, torn between the discomfort of the intrusion and the growing pleasure.

His hand slid between your legs, fingers circling your still-sensitive bud. You gasped, pushing back against him instinctively. Curtis took advantage of your movement, slowly pressing inside you.

The stretch was intense, but not painful as it had been before. Your body, as Curtis had promised, seemed to remember him, accommodating his impressive girth. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as he sank deeper.

"That's it," Curtis growled, his voice thick with pleasure.

Curtis's tail tightened around your waist as he seated himself fully within you. He stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size, filling you completely. His hands roamed your body, caressing and soothing.

"So tight," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "You feel exquisite, little one."

You whimpered softly, overwhelmed by the fullness, the stretch. Curtis began to move, slow, shallow thrusts that made you gasp. His hand slid from your hip to your belly, caressing the slight swell there.

"Mine," he growled possessively. "Both of you."

You whimpered softly as he continued to move in slow, deeper thrusts that sent waves of pleasure through your body. His tail unwound from your waist, the tip sliding between your legs to tease your sensitive bud.

"Curtis," you gasped, struggling to keep your voice down. "It's too much..."

But your body betrayed your words, pushing back to meet his thrusts. Curtis chuckled darkly, nipping at your shoulder.

"Your body knows what it wants, little one," he purred. "It craves me, just as I crave you."

His pace increased gradually, each thrust driving deeper. You buried your face in the pillow, muffling your cries of pleasure. The initial discomfort had faded, replaced by waves of sensation that threatened to overwhelm you.

Curtis's movements grew more insistent, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force. You clutched the sheets, struggling to stay quiet as waves of pleasure washed over you. His tail continued its teasing ministrations between your legs, the dual sensations driving you towards another peak.

"That's it," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Let go for me again, little one. Show me how much you've missed this."

Your body obeyed, even as your mind reeled at the intensity of it all. The coil of tension in your core wound tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. You bit down hard on the pillow, muffling your cry of ecstasy as your second orgasm crashed over you.

Curtis groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as your inner walls clenched around him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and humid against your skin. His hips jerked erratically as he reached his peak. With a low, guttural groan that vibrated through your entire body, he climaxed. You felt his member pulsing inside you as he pumped you full of his seed.

Wave after wave crashed over him as he continued to thrust, each movement sending another surge of his essence deep within you. His tail coiled tightly around your thigh, holding you in place as he claimed you completely.

The warmth of his release spread through you, a stark contrast to his cool skin. You shuddered beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensation and the knowledge of what was happening. The room filled with the scent of lake water, earth, and your combined arousal.

Curtis's teeth grazed your shoulder, not quite breaking the skin but leaving marks that would linger for days. His hands gripped your hips tightly as he rode out the last waves of his climax, determined to empty himself inside you. You trembled beneath him, your body still quivering with aftershocks.

Slowly, his grip loosened, and he eased himself out of you. You whimpered at the loss, feeling suddenly empty. Curtis gathered you in his arms, rolling onto his side and pulling you against his chest. His tail wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

"Beautiful," he murmured, nuzzling into your neck, the scratch of his beard making you shiver. "You were perfect, little one."

You lay there, catching your breath, your mind reeling from what had just transpired. You could feel the stickiness of some of your combined spend that had oozed out of your cunt hot between the top of your thighs. Curtis's hand splayed possessively over your belly, reminding you of the life growing within.

"What happens now?" you whispered, fear and uncertainty creeping back into your voice.

Curtis's arms tightened around you. "Now," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, "you come with me."

Your heart raced at his words. "What? I can't just leave, Curtis. My family, my life..."

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Your life is with me now, little one. You carry my child. You belong to the lake, to me."

You tried to pull away, but his grip was unyielding. "Please," you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes. "I'm not ready. I can't just disappear."

Curtis sighed, his breath cool against your neck. "I understand your hesitation," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "But you must understand, little one. Our child cannot be raised in the human world."

You trembled in his arms, torn between fear and a strange sense of longing. "I can't just leave. My family—"

"Will never understand," he finished for you. "They can't accept what you've become, what we've created together."

You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks. Part of you knew he was right - there was no way to explain your pregnancy, no way to raise a half-human, half-lake creature child in your village. But the thought of leaving everything you'd ever known was terrifying.

"Shh," he murmured. "I know it's frightening. But I will take care of you.”

“I’m not ready,” you cried softly. You weren’t ready to leave, you weren’t ready to carry his child, you weren’t ready for any of this.

Curtis's grip on you loosened slightly, though he didn't let go completely. His hand continued to caress your belly gently.

"I understand your fear," he murmured, his voice softer than you'd ever heard it. "This is all new to you. But you must understand, little one - our child cannot survive in your world. And you... you've been changed by our coupling. The lake calls to you now, doesn't it?"

You shivered, realizing the truth in his words. Ever since that first night, you'd felt drawn to the water in a way you never had before. The sight, the smell, the sound of it called to something deep within you.

"I... I need time," you whispered. "Please, Curtis. I can't just vanish without a trace. My family will worry."

He was quiet for a long moment, his tail tightening slightly around your waist before loosening as well.

“Curtis?” you prompted, worried as his silence drew on.

"Sleep now, little one," he finally murmured, his arms tightening around you once more. "Dawn will come soon enough."

But sleep didn't come easily. You lay there, hyper-aware of Curtis's presence behind you. His cool, slightly damp skin pressed against yours, his tail still wrapped loosely around your waist. The rise and fall of his chest against your back was steady, but you could tell from the tension in his body that he wasn't sleeping either.

The moonlight filtered through the window, casting eerie shadows across the room. Every creak of the house, every rustle of leaves outside, made you tense. You kept expecting someone to burst through the door, to discover you in the arms of this creature. But the night remained quiet, save for the gentle lapping of the lake's waves in the distance.

As the sky began to lighten, your eyelids grew heavy. Despite your racing thoughts, exhaustion finally overcame you.

When you awoke mere hours later, you were alone.

Well... a little surprise monster fucking for your Monday. HOPE THE HOES IN THIS HOUSE ENJOYED IT!

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Super excited for this crossover series! I’ll try to keep a regular update schedule on Wednesdays. I might take some liberties with VtM lore and mechanics to fit the story, but hope to stay as true as I can to the source material. Finally, I imagined RE2R Leon (my favorite!) in this role 🫶

AO3 Link

Chapter 1: RC By Night

You first saw him in summer, when the days were long and the nights were short, and the streets came to life again. There was the heady smell of pollen in the air and the humidity was sweltering. Just a couple of months after you and a bunch of idealistic friends from your theater school days had taken the plunge, and opened an all-night cafe in one of the cheaper, grittier areas of town, east of the river of Raccoon City.

It had been a scrappy little project, one you didn’t expect to receive a cult following and gain in popularity amongst the intellectuals and counterculture crowd. But then again, there was also the City College nearby and the events program you’d lined up each week drew them in. From comedy nights and disco fevers to site-specific and performance art, you knew what people liked and how they wanted to be entertained. A bit of kitsch, a sprinkle of avant-garde and a generous dose of unpretentious social drinking. It pulled him in too.

Him. You didn’t even know his name. The first thing you had noticed were his striking blue eyes that seemed to glow from the shadows of the dimly lit space, peering out at you. Always observing, always watching, never speaking. Sometimes he’d glance over across the opposite end of the room at another pair of companions — a rugged, broad-shouldered man with a dark crew cut bumping shoulders with a younger, spunky redhead in a matching biker jacket. They’d exchange subtle looks of recognition and mild suspicion before returning to whatever they were doing. Though they never uttered a single word to each other.

He came back week after week, ordering the same drink each time, but never touching it. One Manhattan, please. You obliged. A waitress you had sent over to pry on your behalf told you he enjoyed the cocktail, but couldn’t tolerate much alcohol. You saw him lift the drink to his nose, sniffing it as the corners of his mouth turned upwards, silently smiling to himself before he placed it back down on the table again. Strange. You shook your head and prepared a cup of black coffee, taking it over to him as his eyes lit up in surprise with your approach.

“On the house,” you explained, plonking it down on the table. He raised an eyebrow but remained tight-lipped.

Maybe he didn’t like coffee? Or how did he usually take it? “Uh—” you turned back towards the service area, as if to check that the condiments were still in place. “Would you like some creamer or sugar to go with it?”

He raised his hand to indicate it wasn’t necessary and his jaw clenched, before fixing it into an awkward smile. “Thank you.”

Those were the first words he had spoken to you. It rolled off his tongue like a swirl of mist, a sliver of a dream you couldn’t quite remember when waking up. You took another step forward to get a better look at him. He had a baby face, angelic almost, with that typical, boy next door charm your mom would have gushed at, and you imagined he couldn’t be older than his early twenties. Upon closer inspection, he seemed slightly pale, faint dark circles around his eyes that had seen more than his fair share for his age. There was a sense of weariness and jadedness behind them that made him appear older than he was.

Bringing the cup to his lips, he sipped a small mouthful, letting it sit for a moment, before swallowing it down languidly. You admired the curve of his Adam’s apple, bobbing as the liquid poured down his throat, littered with freckles and specks of moles. Something about his very presence mesmerized you, even more so than earlier. It was hard to place a finger on what it was exactly, and why this feeling seemed to grow with every second you were lingering near him.

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tapping it on the table before offering one to you. Why not? You were a social smoker and took it as a sign to join him. In fact, there was no other place you’d rather be at the moment. You were confused, but did not question it as you took a seat beside him, noticing that he flinched each time he flicked open his lighter to ignite a flame.

His fingertips brushed across your wrist as he lit your cigarette, causing you to shiver in response, while his jaw tensed again, as if trying to rein something in. Licking his lips, he took a puff from his own, exhaling the smoke as it billowed around him and for a second you thought you’d lost him to a wall of fog. Both of you continued smoking in silence, checking in with each other through furtive glances, even though there was nothing to be ashamed about.

At some point, you followed the direction of his gaze and saw that same pair of companions he often regarded from the corner of his eye. They were frowning, giving him dirty looks as he shrugged nonchalantly in return.

“Not much of a talker, are you?” you broke through the thick stillness of the air that surrounded the both of you like a bubble, separated from the rest of the evening revelers.

“You’re observant,” he teased, his eyes crinkling as he stubbed out the leftovers of his cigarette in the ashtray. You followed suit.

“So, what brings you here?” you asked, gesturing to the suit attire sans tie that he was wearing. “Don’t get me wrong, but this place doesn’t exactly seem like the kind you types hang out at.”

“Hm,” he huffed, though your question didn’t phase him. “And what exactly is my type?”

“I’d say you were a yuppie,” you blurted out, your mouth rarely had a filter on these days. “But I can’t be sure, something about you seems…”

“Off?” he offered, smirking, yet his expression carried a hint of somberness.

“Different,” you corrected, but mumbled out a quick apology nonetheless soon after.

“Don’t be,” he grazed your hand again as he adjusted himself in his chair, and you felt like he was doing this on purpose. “At least you’re honest. It’s a rare quality to find these days.” Though the way he said the last sentence sounded loaded with a double meaning.

“These days?” you guffawed. “You’re speaking like an old man.”

He joined in your laughter though that was the end of your conversation for that night. The rest of the evening went by in a blind haze, and you found yourself in a dazed state later on in the wee hours of the morning, still sitting at the same table, but your newfound friend gone without a trace. None of your colleagues had noticed a thing. You didn’t even get his name, but you shook yourself, commanding your limbs to get back to business and clean up after the customers that had left.

The next time you saw him was when you were hosting the karaoke night of the month. Decked out in a shimmery mermaid glitter jumpsuit, hair tied up in pigtails and face caked with extravagant make up, you hopped onto the stage, only to nearly stumble on your flimsy heels when those piercing blue eyes landed on you from the all the way back. Of all the nights he could have dropped in, he chose this one.

You suppressed your embarrassment and warmed up the audience with a couple of well-placed jokes before kicking the event off with those who had registered to participate. It appeared to be a tough crowd as you only had a handful of sign ups, and would need to potentially seek out volunteers when they were done. You hoped the rackety sound system would hold up till then too.

Fortunately, when it came to the crunch — which it did — you always had an ace up your sleeve. “You there,” you called out, pointing towards the back of the room. “Yeah, blue eyes, you.” Crooking your finger, you beckoned him over, waiting in anticipation to see what he would do.

To your surprise, he bowed his head, accepting the challenge, before slowly weaving his way through the crowd, who were cheering him on with your prompting, towards the stage. He flashed you his pearly whites as he climbed up the short stairs, his floppy bangs bouncing with each step. For a moment, you thought you caught something feral in his gaze, but it dissipated when he reached out for the mic from you, his hands sweeping over yours with an electric touch.

You were in awe of him, like almost everyone else in the cafe, when he broke out in a rich tenor voice, effortlessly floating through the notes of the gentle melody, that you felt as though you were being wrapped in a serene, velvet cocoon. Enthusiastic claps and hoots filled the space when he finished. The only two people in the room who were scowling were the same pair of companions he knew from before.

“Will you join me after the show?” he whispered in your ear as he handed you back the mic. Nodding was the only appropriate response.

You were rushed off your feet for the next couple of hours and it was late by the time you called the event to a close, but he was still there, by his usual table, waiting patiently for you.

“So you decided to push me into the spotlight,” he accused with a wry smile.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” you shot back. “Here.” You set a cup of black coffee down in front of him. “My treat.”

“You’re too kind.” It sounded flat, like a game that had become routine between the two of you. He took a sip from it, nothing more, nothing less.

That was all you could recall from your conversation. You didn’t get his name until a few nights after.

“Hey, blue eyes,” you acknowledged as he strolled in.

“Leon,” he disclosed sharply. “It’s Leon.”

That was the night of exchanging introductions. You named all the nights you’d spent with him under various labels, so you wouldn’t forget.

Another night, he had whipped out a flip phone and you nearly choked on your drink. “They still make those?” You stared in disbelief.

He turned to face you in amusement.

“Bet you don’t have a—”

You didn’t even need to finish your sentence for him to fish out his pager, dangling it in front of you like a toy.

“Fuck off,” you laughed. “No fucking way.”

He grinned at your outburst and it was one of those times, few and far between, where you experienced a glimpse of that youthful energy he often hid behind a calm, matured facade.

“You’re still living in the 90s dude?” you jested, grabbing the pager as you flipped it over, trying to determine if it was real. It was.

His lips curled up into a playful smirk. “Something like that.”

“Healthcare,” you guessed, squinting at him. “I heard people there still have them. You’re a doctor?”

“I wish.” He coughed out a self-deprecating laugh, before rummaging through his wallet for a sleek white card, sliding over to you. “P.I., actually.”

“Private Investigator Leon S. Kennedy,” you read the title out loud, deliberately emphasizing each word.

“Go ahead, shout it from the rooftops,” he joked.

“Don’t tempt me.” You gave what you hoped was a cheeky wink, not flirty, definitely not flirty.

A lopsided smile spread across his face, and you wondered if you were finally beginning to unravel the mystery of this man, one that he seemed to carry around like a burden.

“Well, now you know where to find me.” He winked back, taking a tiny sip of his free coffee.

That was the night of P.I. Kennedy. Soon, these nights blurred into each other. You felt like you were getting a step closer, but yet you weren’t. He always had you at an arm’s length for some reason, even though he seemed to want more. Why did he keep coming back?

He also appeared to care about what you thought of him. At some point forth, he started dressing down, exchanging his usual formal attire for a shirt with no blazer, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A fine gold chain necklace peeked out from underneath his top collar, which was left unbuttoned. “Better like this?” he asked with no context. You had to pause and consider what he meant for a while before you understood.

“If you’d like to fit in.” You shrugged indifferently. “But I don’t think you want to.”

“You know me well,” he murmured fondly. The back of his fingers caressed the side of your neck, just under your jawline, along a pulse point. You closed your eyes and sighed. It felt sensitive and tender.

“And how well do you know me?” you asked. 

There was no reply, but somehow you already knew the answer.

Another thing you were vaguely aware of was that you kept missing the tail end of your interactions with him. It was as though after a certain point in the night, you would come to, like waking up from a daydream, and he would have disappeared by then.

Your colleagues asked if you were seeing each other. Were you? You were only chatting, you surmised. Nothing had gone that far yet, at least from what you had gathered. But you liked him more than you would’ve liked to admit.

He walked you home one night, and when you reached your doorstep, you were about to invite him in, but he interrupted you. “There’s something I need to tell you…”

Guilt clouded his eyes, unmistakable and heavy. But as he was about to say more, he held back, as if pulled by an invisible thread. Then, you felt yourself overcome with tiredness, but it was pleasant and comforting. “Can you help me to bed?” Your voice sounded far away.

All at once, you felt yourself being propped up under his arm and your weight shifting under your feet, until your head touched a feather-soft pillow. He draped a blanket over your unmoving body. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never should have—” Even in your state, you could tell it pained him.

“I won’t do it again, unless you let me.” 

That was the last you heard from him for a while.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon couldn’t get enough of you. Believe him, he tried countless times, but it didn’t work. From the moment he had set foot into that establishment, he had damned himself. He knew it when he spotted you and smelled your sanguine resonance from afar. It was the humor of your blood, and it was stronger and more consistent than he was used to. You were just so full of life, and enjoying it to the point where he was envious. You signified all the hopes and dreams that had been dashed spectacularly to the ground, ever since becoming… what he was now.

He had to have a taste of you. A little drop wouldn’t hurt, would it? He’d been taught ages ago, by Ada, his sire, that he needed people like you to survive. If one ignored their hunger for too long, things would get worse, so much worse, and not just for himself, but for everyone else around him. It was simply the lesser of two evils to feed, and he’d never actually killed anyone by doing so. Then, why did it feel so wrong? He had gotten good at pushing down these thoughts, until they were reduced to an inaudible hum at the back of his mind. Just like many other things, he learnt to compromise. But compromising meant that sometimes, he’d lose a piece of himself. If there was an equivalent of a soul within the monster he had become, then it was fragmented, and he’d never get back the ones that had dissolved into the ether, due to the bad decisions he had made. Like the ones he would soon make with you.

Taste. Taste was something he had acquired since young. In his human life, he always had an eye for detail, an eye for what fit, what worked, and what didn’t. It certainly helped when he became a cold case detective with the police force, filled with unbridled potential, only to have that overturned, when he decided to chase after love instead of missing people and puzzle pieces. For years, he would’ve done anything for her, only for it to amount to wasted time and regret when the inevitable boredom that came with time struck, and he was tossed aside over something exciting and new. Still, he knew a delicious vessel when he saw one. You were just meant to be a special curiosity that he could pass on to the older vampire for a favor or two. At least, that was what he told himself, when you took the initial bait and he beckoned you to stay through unnatural means. That was the first lie.

When he bit into you, he was met with a burst of color, vibrant shades of all kinds of red. The flavor saturated his mouth: sweet roses, his favorite kind, their scent carried on a gentle zephyr; warm light that enveloped him but didn’t hurt; traces of nicotine coursing through your veins; and the familiar iron tang that gave it its kick. Your face, your voice, your very essence haunted him in that taste. He could see you like a will-o'-the-wisp performing on stage in one of your many plays across a lifetime, laughing with your friends in the back of a car speeding down the highway, crying into a pillow when you had your heart broken by your first love… How was this possible? Your memories came flooding through him and you were blissfully unaware of it all. He felt like a spy, listening in to all your secrets and desires, and his blatant invasion of your privacy disgusted him.

This was wrong. He shouldn’t have gotten so close. He should’ve heeded the warning glances the Redfield siblings were throwing his way. So, he tried his best to stay away, but like an addict, he kept crawling back, seeking you out like a dog with its tail between its legs. How could a mere mortal have such an effect on him? Did he taste this way to Ada when she turned him? He laughed sardonically. If only she could see him now, being so torn up over a woman he had just met.

He tried to erase you from his mind, but you were always meant to be something more. You reminded him of all the things he missed when he was living. You were the best he had ever tasted, but he didn’t want to turn you over to her, not yet. After all, he could afford to enjoy you for just one more time. The second lie had spun its thick, dark webs throughout his head. Truth be told, he would never share you with anyone else.

The third lie came when he resolved to tell you what he really was. He couldn’t keep going on like this and deceiving you, but his sire’s words bore down on him. “You don’t get attached to a vessel,” she scoffed. Wait, wasn’t he one too at some point? Her contradictory words replayed in his ears like a broken record. In any case, he wasn’t attached. He was being brave and honest, which was how he liked to think of himself. But when it came to the crunch outside your doorstep, he was a coward, finding himself unable to breach the rules of the Masquerade and gave in to his urges instead. It was then that he realized deep down, he was truly a despicable and hateful low-life.

Thump! He felt his body slam against a solid wall, as he entered a secluded alleyway round the corner from your apartment. A dull ache bloomed across his skin. After the events that had happened that night, he didn’t even bother putting up a fight. He slumped down until the brawny, older male sibling, Chris, lifted him by his collar and pinned him in place. At the same time, the slender redhead, Claire, Chris’ female counterpart, spoke, “Where the hell are you going with this, Leon?”

“Why do you care?” he spat, blood coating his teeth. “The cafe’s in neutral ground, no one’s claimed domain over it yet. I can feed on whoever I like.”

“Listen, you’re Cam scum, but you saved my brother back then, and you used to hang with us,” she hissed, jabbing her finger into his shoulder to emphasize each point. “So, I’m gonna give you a tip, but just this once.”

She brought her mouth to his ear. “There’s interest in the domain… and you’re not the only suitor vying for her attention.”

His eyes widened at the threat.

“Whatever you do, do it fast.”

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Kenshin's Sequel: Passionate Route

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies. Not a full translation.

Kanetsugu: "Lord Kenshin. The battle is over. Please, return."

Kanetsugu: "You've been fighting ever since then."

Kanetsugu: "Kicho and everyone connected to him are gone now."

(Kenshin.)

My heart thudded uncomfortably, and my fingertips trembled.

Kenshin: "I see. It's over."

Kenshin looked down upon the battlefield, where corpses stretched endlessly.

Kenshin: "There's no going back to the past, is there, Kanetsugu?"

Kanetsugu: "………"

As Kanetsugu fell silent, Kenshin faintly smiled.

Kenshin: "Everyone vanishes before me."

Kenshin: "If I stop, the weight of what I've lost will drive me mad."

The golden sky reflected off the blade he drew slowly from its sheath.

Kanetsugu: "----!"

(Don't tell me he's...?)

Kenshin: "No, perhaps I've been mad for a long time."

Kanetsugu: "Lord Kenshin! What are you—"

With vacant eyes, Kenshin placed the blade against his own throat.

Kenshin: "The battle is over, and death has finally caught up to me."

Kenshin: "If I could only be with Mai once more."

Kanetsugu: "Wait!"

(Kenshin!)

Kenshin: "Mai, even as my life ends, I still love you."

Before Kanetsugu could stop him, Kenshin quietly slid the blade against his throat.

(Stop!)

Even as I reached out, my hand couldn't reach him, and he collapsed to the ground.

(No. This can't be.)

(I can't believe he did that.)

The unbearable sight nearly tore my heart apart.

(Someone...please...save Kenshin.)

Mai: "Kenshin…"

The sound of my own hoarse voice jolted me back to consciousness.

I was drenched in cold sweat, and my heart pounded uncomfortably.

(It was a dream, but not just any dream.)

I tried calming my ragged breathing and sat up cautiously.

(Where am I? I've never seen this place before.)

The dark room was quiet, and there was no one in sight.

Mai: "Is anyone there?"

(Where's Kenshin?)

I tried to stand up, feeling a desperate urge to see him when suddenly—

Kenshin: "Mai."

Kenshin entered the room, his eyes widening as he looked at me.

Mai: "Kenshin…"

Kenshin: "………"

The water bucket he held fell to the floor with a loud thud.

Without even glancing at it, he came to me and wrapped his arms around me.

Kenshin: "Thank you for waking up."

(It's really him. His warmth is real.)

In the dream, I couldn’t even touch him, but now, holding him close, my heart’s on fire with emotion.

Kenshin: "It must have been so painful and difficult for you."

As he frowned and gazed at me, I could see the deep signs of fatigue on his face.

I suddenly realized just how much he’d been worrying about me.

(I'm scared to ask, but I need to know.)

Mai: "Kenshin, what happened to me?"

Kenshin: "………"

He sighed softly and gently brushed the hair from my cheek.

Kenshin: "Do you remember sending Shingen and Sasuke into the future?"

Mai: "Yes, I remember losing consciousness after sending them away."

Kenshin: "Three days have passed since then. You were wandering between life and death with a high fever."

Kenshin: "We stumbled upon this empty temple and decided to take shelter here."

(This is just like what I heard in the dream.)

(If that's the case, I'll disappear tomorrow.)

The stark reality pressed against me, sending a chill through my spine.

Kenshin: "Were you surprised by how long you were unconscious?"

Mai: "Uh, yes."

(I have to try to appear calm.)

(I can't tell him what I saw in the dream.)

Mai: "So, what about the battle with Kicho?"

Kenshin: "It's still ongoing. I don't want to be away from you, but I judged that this is the quickest way to end the war."

Kenshin: “That’s why Yukimura is with you, taking on the role of rear support.”

(Yukimura must be extremely worried about Shingen, yet he’s still protecting me.)

Mai: “I see. I need to thank him later.”

Kenshin: “He’s the one who should be thanking you.”

Kenshin: “When he heard you helped Shingen, he was in tears.”

(Yukimura.)

The image of Yukimura looking so sad in my dream pierced my heart.

(What should I do? I need to prevent that future.)

(Time is running out even as we speak.)

(What can I do right now?)

Frustration and anxiety burned within me, clouding my mind.

(The farewell with Kenshin is looming close.)

I held him closer, worried that if I relaxed even a bit, I'd start crying.

Kenshin: “Mai, you look terrible. You should rest a little longer.”

Mai: “But if I fall asleep…”

(I might never see you again.)

I couldn’t finish my sentence and looked down, only to be met with his gentle smile.

Kenshin: “Are you feeling lonely?”

Kenshin: “I’ll be by your side all night, so you don’t need to worry.”

(He's always so kind, which just makes things even harder right now.)

I wiped the tears that had welled up in my eyes and looked up at him.

Mai: "Kenshin, I have a request."

Kenshin: "What is it? Go ahead and say it."

Mai: "Could you kiss me?"

Kenshin: "..........."

Mai: "I'm sorry for asking something so weird right after waking一"

Mai: "Mmm…"

Before I could finish speaking, he captured my words with his lips.

The kiss, almost possessive, ignited a heat within me, and I clung to his kimono.

Kenshin: "It's not sudden at all. I've also longed to touch you."

Kenshin: "I've wanted to feel your warmth."

His tongue, pressing eagerly, tenderly traced the insides of my mouth.

The wet sounds of our kiss tickled my ears, sending heat rushing to my head.

[kuethemoon]

iwtv fanfic friday: lesbianism onto the guys

@oldbutchdaniel I'm joining the fun. it's yuri time

two-headed mother by tisiphones // e, 8.6k

"Poor darling," Armand says, and the condescension in his voice is so awful and so offensive and Lestat wants to curl up in it and never, ever leave. "It's okay to let yourself be taken care of for just one night. You can't help what you need." It's Lestat's last night in Paris. Armand makes it a memorable one.

actually world changing. mommy issues galore it's sooo fun and this fic is part of several that got me into armandstat

super graphic ultra modern girl by armanddelioncourt // e, 0.9k

“I want to watch how you insert your tampon.” “Wha—No, you weirdo,” she glanced around the mercifully-deserted aisle. “You can’t just ask me that in the store!”

yummmmmy period blood fic!!! i love period blood fics sooo much and they're so cute

More than Neither by apoptoses // e, 6.2k

Annoying, how hot it is to see Armand kneeling on the dirty bathroom floor like this. Without her heels to compensate for their height difference she looks small, delicate. Her face is on the level with Daniel’s hips and Daniel knows what’s about to happen. Armand has probably been planning for this since they stepped into the store, she realizes. There’s no way she’d catch Daniel bleeding for the first time and let that go. (Daniel gets her period. Armand helps. Written for the Queens of the Damned prompt butch/femme.)

another period blood fic pls bartender! if I tip you can add them being freaky in a public toilet? thank you very much I'll take the lot pls!! the way daniel and armand handle being women and lesbians is so well written. dyke stamp of approval. if you're starting to notice a trend don't tell me

she loves me, she loves me not by IguessIllchangeitlater // e, 2.3k

“Sure,” she panted and raised her head, tried to find Armand’s eyes, but kept focusing on her fanged smile instead. “I will wear that fucking skirt.” Push out, push in, push out, push in, Daniela was going to come just from that, she was going to die. “I can’t-ah, I can’t wear my underwear with that, I would look silly.” Push in, push out. “Yes,” Armand agreed. She rested her head on the mattress, next to Daniela’s knee and busied herself with mouthing the blood that was still there. The blood that she drew earlier. “So, what’s the plan, boss?” Daniela managed to raise herself on her elbows. Armand’s beguiled eyes looked like that of a cat in the light of the night. “For the underwear situation?” “You will wear none, of course.”

butch daniel wearing a skirt because armand said so was an idea that bounced around in my head for a whole week so you know how excited I was to read this. hell yeah they're so bad to each other

sweet things for the sea by ulatraviolet_glow // e, 2.6k

Danielle Molloy, a runaway posing as a young man on a trading ship dreams of a better life, but when her dreams find her falling overboard and into the arms of the woman of her dreams, how disturbed will Dani be when she realises that the woman is not human at all, but a creature of the sea?

siren armand do you know how much you mean to meeeeee I lay awake at night thinking of you sinfully. siren armand...

one of your girls by sleepdeprivedsurgeon // m, 4.7k

“I was thinking maybe I’d go with my girlfriend,” Daniel says. Armand sucks in a breath, a familiar blend of excitement and fever rearing its head inside him. This isn’t new— nothing is, after nearly five centuries— but it’s certainly been a while. Louis doesn’t care what he looks like, what he is, just as long as he stays below him. On his knees in the endless confessional. Marius would dress him up sometimes: Helen of Troy, Cassandra, Mary Magdalene. When the painting was finished he’d push his skirts up and take him there in the studio.

technically not yuri but beautiful feminization + crossdressing armand and I had to put it here. special treat!

[sungbeam]

𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

choi beomgyu x reader

1.3k words, angst w a happy ending, implied forbidden romance, friends 2 lovers, kissing, reader is wearing a dress, not proofread, started this on nye inspired on you don't go to parties by 5sos but idt it's the exact vibe?, one swear word

a/n: ten days past new year's, but needed time to get my shit together skfnkenf anyways, been in a very beomgyu mood lately

“Long time no see.” Choi Beomgyu's words were accompanied by the momentary increase in volume from the party before it muffled out, and all that was left was cold and crickets.

You passed a cursory glance over your shoulder as he joined you to lean over the balcony's stone railing that looked out into the gardens spread below. “Long time no see, for sure,” you agreed, turning slightly to get a better look at him.

His dark hair, shaggy and falling in his eyes, hung just above his shoulders in an effortless mullet. He wore a dress shirt undone at the top two buttons with a silver chain hanging upon his delicate collarbones. He shivered slightly. “You know, I didn't think you'd actually come.”

You drew your finger absentmindedly over the swirls in the stone beneath your forearms. “Yeah, I didn't think I would either.” But if you were honest with him, you would have said that it was all Lia's doing—that your friend had somehow persuaded you to attend Beomgyu's New Year's Eve bash with her, then proceeded to let you borrow one of her dresses when you argued that you had nothing to wear.

But if you were honest with yourself, you would have said that you wouldn't have missed this for the world. That Lia never needed to persuade you or loan a dress for you to come.

He fixed his eyes on you, dark and wide and adoring. The way he looked at you made you feel like you belonged here tonight when you sure as hell didn't. You belonged on the couch in Yoon's apartment, getting drunk off shitty champagne while the ball dropped to signal the New Year. Instead, you were freezing your ass outside a party you didn't want to be at. Really, you were just here for him. Even Lia knew that when she convinced you.

When was the last time you'd been to one of these fuckass social events? Whenever it was, it was the last time you saw Beomgyu because you didn't go to these things anymore. It was one of the few places you could even be around him without any fuss from anyone else.

Beomgyu took a step closer to you, and your traitorous body didn't move away. Your heart betrayed you, palpitating in your ribcage. “Did you come with anybody?” He asked.

You weren't entirely sure what information he really wanted out of the question.

“Just Lia,” you said.

He swallowed, nodding.

“You,” you stammered, “you clean up really well.” There was a vague gesture made to his figure. He'd always looked like he walked straight out of a Vogue magazine cover, but there was something in the way the cold bit his nose until it was pink and how the moon made his eyes shine.

“Thanks,” he murmured. “You look good, too. You always have.”

It came to you then, a stark reminder that this was something of a fever dream. You were standing here before a boy you shouldn't be with in a dress you didn't own and at a party you didn't belong at.

At what point in time would the magic disappear and leave you with a pumpkin, rags, and dashed hopes?

He was shivering again, and your lips pulled down into a frown. “You're shaking,” you said, tugging at the sleeves of the jacket around your shoulders and opening up the side for him to duck under with you. “We should go inside.”

He wasted no time slipping next to you, his arm curling around your waist and his other tugging the jacket half over his broad shoulder. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “If you're more comfortable talking to me out here, then let me freeze.”

You turned your head over toward him and realized how close your faces now sat. You could see the texture of his skin, the tenderness in his eyes. Your side was pressed against his side while your body gradually shared its warmth.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. “Talk to you about what?”

“Anything,” he exhaled. For a second, he smiled. It was beautiful and sad—his eyes tilted in upturned crescents but trembling in yearning. He'd been all you wanted, and you'd been all he wanted.

Anything. Let me freeze.

Your breathing went shallow. “Any New Year's resolutions?” You asked, unable to form coherent words for any other thought. You wanted this to be real; you didn't want the magic to disappear at midnight.

Beomgyu's lips parted for a moment. “Resolutions?” He echoed. “Uhm, I'd say perform with the band… try to do some more volunteering and… to travel the world.” His chin tilted toward you. “How about you?”

“Apply to more scholarships, pick up baking, and… maybe learn how to play the guitar,” you said.

He smiled again, and you couldn't help but return the expression. “You'd look good playing the guitar.”

“I'd like to be good at playing the guitar.”

“Same difference.”

You let out a laugh and so did he, your heads ducking together for a second before you were both looking at each other again. “Ever the flatterer.”

“Always,” he said easily. “I'm a great tutor. Just sayin’.”

“Oh, you play the guitar?” You teased.

“Just a little,” he played along. He pursed his lips, thumb grazing over your side. “So are you kissing anyone at midnight?”

You gnawed on your lip. “Beomgyu…”

“I'm not saying it has to be me,” he said. Beomgyu sighed, the breath exhaling out into the air in a visible puff of air. “But I'd like to be a choice.” His voice went quiet at the end of his comment, and that was the only uncertainty he expressed in how you would respond.

If Beomgyu was anything, he was confident and sure of himself. But there were always exceptions, and you'd turned him down before.

You didn't know what made you tell him, but you said, “You've always been my first choice.”

His expression wavered—that strong front faltered like the ripples in a pond. “Don't say that if you don't mean it.” He couldn't count the number of parties he'd gone to, eyes searching the crowd, but coming up empty every time. He couldn't count the number of nights he fell asleep wishing that he was your first choice.

“I wouldn't say it unless I did.”

From inside the house, the sound of the countdown was unmistakable. It shook your bones, the THIRTY, TWENTY-NINE, TWENTY-EIGHT,... With each number that counted down, you felt your heart pick up in speed, and you didn't know what to do anymore.

Would this all disappear at midnight?

You turned to Beomgyu, the jacket falling from his shoulder and draping down your back. You both fumbled to tug the other end over your opposite shoulder, fingers bumping into each other and breaths painting swirls in the space between you. “I have,” you said quietly, “another resolution.”

His fingers were still on the lapels of your jacket. “Tell me.”

“We make this work.” Your voice faltered for a moment, but you cleared it and forced some power behind it over the sounds of TEN, NINE, EIGHT,... “Whatever we are—whatever we want to be—we make it work.”

His dark eyes glittered as silver lined the rims. His lips pressed together into a smile, but even so suppressed, he couldn't shield the exuberance from peaking out. He nodded his head. “Yes—yeah, it's a deal. We'll make this work.”

When he agreed, you both broke into mutual grins. No more avoiding parties, no more skirting around people's expectations, no more ignoring your own wants.

THREE, TWO, ONE—HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Beomgyu's hands came up to cup your face and he leaned over, taking your mouth for his own, finally. Your hands found his shoulders, then the back of his neck, your bodies pressing together as close as you could manage.

“Happy New Year,” he murmured against your mouth. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief and contentment. To a new year of promises, goals, and resolutions; of new relationships and old friends—you would go into the new year with Beomgyu by your side.

a/n: reblogs are very appreciated :')

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @meosjinnn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @loveliestfelix @zhaixiaowen @justanotherkpopstanlol @w3bqrl @kangfication @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @super-btstrash-posts @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @kflixnet @rikizm

[doc42]

"I decided I would not die."

It is often said in the fandom Daenerys must achieve redemption through sacrificing herself during the War for the Dawn, by people who believe the show switched the order of the events and she burns King's Landing first.

Well, how about we take a look at what GRRM actually thinks of how redemption is achieved?

Finally I hit on the way. Outside my house, I attached two great iron chains to the wall. By night I donned the manacles, and threw the key as far as I was able. A very long way. I waited for the dawn. The sun was worse than I remembered. It burned and blinded me. Everything blurred. My skin was on fire. I think I began to scream. I know I closed my eyes. I was out there for hours, closer and closer to death. There was nothing in me except guilt. And then, somehow, in the fever of my death, I decided to live. How, why, I cannot tell you. But it seemed to me that I had always loved life, in myself and in others. That was why health and beauty and youth drew me so. I loathed myself because I gave death to the world, and yet here I was, killing once more, though this time the victim was myself. I could not wash out my sins with more blood, more death, I thought. To atone, I must live, bring life and beauty and hope back into the world to take the place of all that I had taken. I remembered my father’s vanished servants then. There were others of my race in the world. Vampires, werewolves, warlocks, whatever they might be, they were out there in the night. How did they deal with the red thirst, I wondered. If only I could find them. I could trust my own kind where I could not trust humans. We could help each other conquer the evil that consumed us. I could learn from them. I decided I would not die.

Fevre Dream, bloodsuckers! It shows us very clear in writing here for GRRM redemption is achieved through living, in spite of Death the ultimate and the final enemy of all, represented by the icy Others in A Song of Ice and Fire and by the slave master Damon Julian, the most ancient of all vampires, in Fevre Dream; like how immortal soul is earned through striving to do good deeds for three hundred years in The Little Mermaid, ever a lapsed Catholic hedonist, GRRM.

[hearts-hunger]

affection || jake kiszka x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Standalone in the Cabin Fever universe

Summary: Nothing hurts when you're with Jake.

Pairings: Jake x Reader | Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, non-graphic smut | Word Count: 1k | Warnings: light talk of depression, non-graphic smut (minors begone!)

A/N: My very first standalone fic for Jake and Sparrow! I hope you like it! ♡

Tick, tick, tick. 

In the darkness of your bedroom, you listened to the quiet sound of Jake’s pocket watch and tried to settle your breathing to the rhythm of it. Usually the sound was soothing, a reminder of the way Jake had filled up the quiet parts of your life and your home with a heartbeat of dependability and comfort. You tried to remind yourself of that now as you listened to the soft coppery music of it, but even its steadiness didn't help quiet the knot of sadness and anxiety in your chest.

You didn't know why you felt like this. Sometimes it just crept up on you, a tangle of feelings that had no explanation or obvious cure. They’d come less frequently with Jake, but nothing could stop them completely; you just had to ride it out, hanging on to what you knew was true, letting it wash over you until it was through.

You turned towards Jake, saw the soft curve of his bare shoulder in the moonlight filtering though the curtains. You didn’t want to wake him; you knew he was tired from a long day at the studio, and he needed his rest. You moved close to him, pressing against his back, wrapping an arm around his waist as you tried to get warm against him.

He moved his hand to rest over yours, holding you securely against him. Even in sleep, he was attuned to you; you felt a sob catch in your chest and rested your head against his back.

“Sparrow.” His voice was gravelly with sleep, soft and soothing. He drew your hand up to rest near his heart.

“Sorry,” you said softly, even as you felt the sting of tears. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

He turned his head towards you a little. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied. “Go back to sleep, honey.”

“Are you sick?” he asked. “Bad dream?”

You shook your head. “Just...” You felt so guilty for waking him, for not even having an explanation when you did. 

“I don’t know,” you said brokenly. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

He turned to face you then, pulling you close, tangling his legs with yours under the blanket.

“You’re crying,” he said, brushing tears from your face. “Are you sad?”

“I guess,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t feel good, Jake.”

He hummed and brushed your hair back from your face. “In your body? Or in your heart?”

You couldn’t help a wobbly little smile, endeared to the simplicity of his questions while he was still half-asleep.

“In my heart,” you said. “I can’t sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”

He didn't say anything for a few moments, and you’d thought he’d gone back to sleep. You didn’t hold it against him; you knew he was tired, and you knew this didn’t constitute a real crisis that he needed to be awake for. 

Then, with a sleepy sigh, he pulled you close and hugged you tight.

“I think you need a hug, sparrow,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” you agreed, moving close to him.

You were a little surprised when he pulled away then, and you were confused when he sat up and started to pull up the hem of your sleep shirt.

“It’s like that kangaroo thing,” he said. “We should try that.”

Bemused, you let him ease your shirt off until both of you were in nothing but your underwear.

“What kangaroo thing?” you asked, wondering if he was maybe still asleep.

He lay back next to you and drew you as close as he could, your bare chest against his. His skin was warm and soft, and just the contact made you feel better.

“You know how they do for babies right after they’re born,” he said, running his hand up and down your back. “I think it’s called kangaroo care. Skin-to-skin contact.”

You gave a soft laugh, finally understanding. “Oh. Yeah, I guess you're right.”

“I’m always right,” he said. He kissed your face. “Is it helping?”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

You lay like that for a while, chest to chest, listening to the rhythm of each other’s breathing in the quiet of your bedroom. It was intimate, tender, patient; as he knew it would be, it was exactly what you needed. Gentle touches started to wander, and you eventually felt him warm to your touch.

“Jake,” you said mildly.

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a slight grimace. “Sorry. Ignore it.”

You smiled. “What if I don’t want to ignore it?”

You drew your leg over his thigh and heard his sharp intake of breath.

“We don’t have to,” he said, and you knew he meant it. “I wasn’t trying to get frisky when I started this. I just wanted to help.”

“It is helping,” you said softly, pressing your mouth to his in a gentle kiss. It wasn’t what you’d planned either, and you knew his intentions had been innocent, but you couldn’t think of anything you wanted more than to be as close to him as you could.

His hands moved lower on your back, trailing between your legs, slow and patient. 

“We can stop any time you want,” he reminded you. “Really, sparrow.”

You kissed him again. “I know. I don’t want you to stop.”

You enjoyed long moments of his touch, warming to your desire, comforted and soothed by the tenderness with which he traced you like a beloved thing. When both of you were completely bare and vulnerable to the other, he moved to hover over you, cradling you close with one hand on the small of your back, tucking you into the protective lee of his body.

“Go slow,” you said.

“Of course, my love.”

He eased into you slowly, patiently, never thinking of himself as he filled you and held you close. You breathed a sigh of relief as he settled, awash in the comfort and familiarity of the feeling of him inside and out.

“Thank you,” you said. You held him close. “I needed this. I needed you.”

He kissed you. “My sweet sparrow. You always have me, you know that.”

He kept you there for a while, waiting patiently for you, telling you how much he loved you, his voice a lullaby. 

“Beautiful,” he said softly, peppering your face with gentle kisses. “You’re so beautiful. I love you, Sparrow.”

“I love you,” you said. You started to move against him, and you loved the way his breath caught.

It was slow and soft and gentle, pleasure cresting with all the tenderness of a wave against a shore. You felt tears come again, your chest tight with love for him, and he brushed them away with a soft touch.

“Don’t cry, sparrow,” he said, his voice soft with compassion. “Are you alright?”

You kissed him, trying to tell him in more than words how much you loved him, how thankful you were for him.

“I’m perfect,” you said. “Thank you for loving me like you do.”

He sighed, relieved and tender for you, kissing you with every gentleness, and his touch eased every bit of the tangle in your chest until all you felt was warmth and safety.

“I love you, Jake,” you said softly.

He kissed you again.

“I love you too, sparrow. More than I could ever tell you.”

(i'll reblog with the taglist tomorrow bc it's late and i'm lazy! <3)

[needlereads]

Red Pill

dark!Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Warnings: dark, non-con, sexual content, supernatural(?), 18+ only, drabble

A/N: I don't know what's going on. Lloyd is inspiring thoughts, many thoughts these days.

------

"Lloyd?" You blinked at the sight of your husband. How long had he been standing there, at the patio door? Watching you? "That's...a new look."

He had replaced his full beard with a mustache, so precisely trimmed. Along with the sides so close-cropped, he looked almost military.

Tangible, the emptiness of that moment when he would typically smile at you, all soft and ready for a hug.

A moment he spent, eyes blazing, assessing, watching you some more.

A smiled played at his lips. He raised a hand.

"Come here," he said.

Worried, you rose from your seat by the pool, gripping his hand in yours. Your fingertips barely grazed his smooth jawline, a shiver bolting down your spine.

"It actually worked. Fuck," he murmured, drinking you in. He thought landing in this neat little house had been a fever dream. (Running off after getting shot could do that. Accepting a red pill from an old lady who whispered next to his prone body, bled out and exhausted, about playing with chance -- swallowing that red pill with his final breath -- could do this.)

He drew you in closer. Your scent, your warm little body in his embrace fed the triumph rearing inside him.

The lilt of your name, purred from his lips, had you frowning. It was his same voice, and yet...

(The old hag's magic hadn't been all bullshit after all.) Lloyd snickered, capturing your lips in a hard kiss. (This called for a celebration.)

Before you knew it, he had you inside, stumbling through the kitchen. He growled, pressed his open mouth to yours, licking into you, while large hands picked you up. You couldn't break away for more than a breath, much less a word.

Finally, you managed to push at his chest enough to force space between you two.

"What's going on?" You weren't really asking him.

In the space of hours, something had stirred in the air and turned your husband into a stranger. Someone you couldn't trust, someone who would not be able to give you answers.

Your vision blurred with tears, your heart thundered with fear even as your body buzzed to be touched by this man, his physique so familiar in promising you pleasure. But he wasn't yours.

"Who are you?"

"Don't cry now, honey." He cooed at you, restricting you as you squirmed in his hold. "I'm Lloyd."

Shirt shredded, shorts and underthings torn away, you're left at his mercy.

"Such a sweet thing, and rebellious too." Lloyd's tongue traced the tattoo on your shoulder blade.

You could hear his delight, a less doting tone than when your husband -- your Lloyd -- had praised you for the ink on your body. He kept you pinned in place, playing with your clit and dragging his finger tips along your wet lips.

"I thought I had lost everything." Lloyd subdued you when you struggled up against him, winding your arm to keep your wrist at your back. "Keep still, sweetness. Won't you let your husband taste you?" He breathed out a laugh, brought his other hand up and sucked your wetness from his fingers. His lusty groan brought out a sob in you. "This will have to do for now."

"Lloyd, don't"--

"That's right. It's just me." He took in a greedy breathful of your body's scent, tanged with arousal, quivering underneath him. All of this, his. (Gambled one last time with his last breath, and won.) "Me, you, and a new life."

------------------------

A/N+: universe jumping, open-ended

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return: Part 3

Chapter 3: Changes

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 3.2k

Ace was with you in your dreams, standing and staring at the sea. 

“Where do we go from here?” you asked, looking at him. 

His brows knitted together in confusion. “What do you mean? Dinner’s on the stove. The baby is still asleep, so-”

“The baby?”

Ace laughed. “Our baby. Don’t you remember?”

“I-” Canonfire in the distance cut off your sentence, and you could see fear all over Ace's face. 

“Go hide,” he said. “I’ll hold them off.”

You raced to the house in the distance; somehow you knew it was yours. You felt nauseous at the thought of being so careless. Of leaving your child alone. 

You were at the front door, stomach churning full of worry, when you woke with a start. Unfortunately, the nausea carried over from the dream. 

Ace woke to your clamoring over him, racing to the bathroom. You barely made it before you began dry heaving into the toilet, only bile coming up. You had thrown everything else up the night before. 

Ace quickly joined you, patting your back and holding you steady. 

“Y/N,” Ace said. 

“I know.” A pit formed in your stomach. You knew what was coming, knew how your life was going to change. “Let’s go see Marco.”

He gave you a smile of relief, thankful he wasn’t going to have to fight you on the matter.

But it didn’t really matter anymore. You knew what was making you sick. And there wasn’t a cure for it. Not an easy one, at least. 

The two of you walked hand in hand to the clinic, where Marco was working in his office. 

“Hi,” you said, smiling at him nervously. “You can run your stupid tests now.”

“You’re still sick?” Marco asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. 

“She threw up last night after dinner and this morning,” Ace answers, helping you sit on the examination table. 

Marco sighed, and you could tell he was disappointed that you let this go on for so long. “Any nausea?” He snapped on his gloves and prepared some vials for blood drawing. “Fever?”

“Yes,” you answered. “To both, I think.”

Marco raised an eyebrow, shooting a look at Ace, but Ace only shrugged. 

Marco handed you a sea prism stone to hold while he took your blood, and you suddenly felt very drained. The sea prism was the only way for devil fruit users to get their blood drawn effectively, but you still hated the process.

He hooked you up to a monitor, and gave you a liquid IV to help with your fluids, and then drew some blood from your arm. 

It was quick and painless, but you could feel your stomach churning with anticipation at the results. Your life was about to shift. And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

A piece of you was still hopeful. Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe you really were just sick. But on the other hand, a baby was something that you could be excited for. And dread. You weren’t sure which answer you hoped for, and you considered flipping Izou’s coin to find out. 

“Should have preliminary results in about two hours. So just rest and-”

“Marco!” A panicked voice screamed as a man entered the clinic, his eyes desperately searching for the first commander. “We need you. Now.” 

The urgency in his voice made your heart rate spike, and the monitor next to your bed began to beep excessively.

“What’s going on?” He asked, turning off the machine. An eerie silence covered the room for a moment. 

“It’s bad,” he said. “It’s Thatch. He’s-”

You didn’t hear the rest of it. You ripped the wires and tubes from your body and took off across the ship, sprinting as fast as you could across the deck. 

You followed the crowd, pushing your way through and burning people to force them to let you through. You were heading for the commander’s hall. The sea of people got thicker, but you continued pushing, pushing, pushing. 

Suddenly you saw Izou and Curiel standing in front of the crowd, blocking anyone from going any further. 

“What’s happening?” you yelled, trying to make your voice heard over the panic happening around you. 

“Turn around,” Izou said strictly. “Go back to the deck and wait.”

“Like hell!” you screamed, pushing past Izou. “Let me through! Let me see him!”

Curiel grabbed your arm and pushed you back into the sea of people. “Go back!” he shouted. “Just listen for once!”

“No!” you screamed, pushing again. This time when Curiel grabbed you, you turned your temperature as high as it could go, burning him the instant he touched you. 

You took the split second he pulled away to dart between the two men and broke through their barrier, rushing towards the commander's hall. Rushing towards Thatch. 

Fossa grabbed you as you sprinted through the common room, racing for Thatch’s room. You tried to burn him as well, but he resisted your heat with armament haki and held you firm in his grip.

“Trust me kid, just stay put.” His voice was tight, and it made you pause. You had never seen Fossa show fear or pain, but it was written all over his face now. 

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. “What happened?” you asked. 

Jozu and Vista emerged from Thatch’s room with solemn looks on their faces. They shook their heads. 

“He’s gone,” Vista said. “Looks like it happened last night. He’s been like that for a while.”

“Dude,” Fossa hissed, tightening his grip as you tried to break free.

“Let me go,” You shrieked, and everyone seemed to simultaneously realize you were there. 

“Fuck, kid.” Jozu’s eyes widened. “What are you doing here? How’d you get through?”

“Thatch!” you screamed, still desperately trying to pull free from Fossa’s grip. “Let me go! Thatch!”

Marco suddenly appeared behind you, and Ace following closely behind him. 

“Where is he?” they both asked, searching the crowd. 

“Marco-” Vista glanced over at you. “He’s in here. Let’s talk somewhere else.”

“How bad is it?” Marco asked. 

Vista and Jozu just shook their heads, and Marco’s entire body deflated in defeat.  

No. If Marco was giving up, then it was bad. Your heart rate drummed in your chest, sending your body into survival mode.

You kicked Fossa in the shin, and then punched him in the stomach. You knew you should’ve apologized, but you didn’t care. You only cared about Thatch. 

His grip slackened from the pain, and you yanked your arm out of his grip, dashing towards Thatch’s room. 

“No!” Jozu shouted, trying to grab you. But you were too quick, and you skillfully dodged away and in through the door. 

The moment you stepped inside, you could smell death. You froze, your blood running ice cold, but your eyes scanned the room. 

It was a scene of horror, you quickly realized. The blood across the mattress was dark and partially dried. And Thatch…oh Thatch. His once jolly and bright face was now pale and dull, his skin looking more like wax than flesh. Deep lacerations covered his entire chest, his shirt covered in tears and cuts. This was a personal and brutal attack. An attack against a person you loved so dearly.  

It was too late. You knew that. You weren’t stupid. The amount of blood alone was enough for you to know. Thatch was dead. He had been for a while.

“No,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes. “Who did this to you?”

You sat next to him on the bloodied bed, not caring about dirtying your clothes. Nothing mattered. Thatch was gone. 

“I’m pregnant,” you whispered, tears streaming out of your eyes and down your cheeks. “I think. Ace doesn’t know. We were about to find out, but then-” you choked on your words, starting to sob now. 

“Where is he?” Your father’s voice boomed as he stepped in the door. He saw you sitting on the bed, sobbing as you looked over at him. You quickly wiped your eyes, trying to pull yourself together. 

“Please don’t make me go.” Your voice broke as you spoke, your eyes silently pleading with him. “Please let me stay.”

Your father looked at you for a few moments, and then nodded in acceptance. 

He turned to the men at the door. “Everyone needs to report to their rooms and stay there until further notice. Commanders, enforce it. Anyone who disobeys is disobeying a direct order from me.” 

Fossa and Vista stared at you, waiting for you to move and follow orders. But you couldn’t move away from Thatch. You couldn’t leave him.

“She’s fine,” your father said. “Leave us.”

The men left you alone with your father, who said nothing as he watched you. 

It was all you could do to keep it together. You couldn’t start crying again. If your father had any suspicion you wouldn’t be able to handle this, he’d send you away. And you couldn’t leave Thatch. 

“He was alone all night,” you whispered. “Nobody even knew.”

“Curiel said he heard some commotion late last night.” Your father sighed, covering his face with his hand. “He just thought it was Thatch coming in drunk.”

He was crying. You had been around him enough to be able to tell from the slight change in his voice. But you didn’t say anything. If you spoke anymore, you probably would start crying again as well.

Instead, you reached out and grabbed Thatch’s hand. Even if he was gone, you wanted him to know you were here. 

That’s when you found it. A few black, wiry hairs, firmly gripped in his fist. 

You let out an involuntary gasp, pieces starting to click into place. You had passed the murderer last night, and he had said something about a dream. A dream that involved a devil fruit.

“Teach.” You breathed out. “It was Teach.”

Whitebeard stared at the hairs. “That’s a big accusation, Y/N. You might want to go off more than-“

“We passed him in the hallway last night,” you said. “He said something about being closer to his goal. He-”

You scanned the room, and then got up and began searching all of Thatch’s drawers and cabinets. 

“It’s not here,” you mumbled, your voice raising in panic. “It’s not here!”

“Y/N,” Whitebeard said. “What isn’t-”

“Thatch’s devil fruit!” you screeched, your hysteria rising. “His devil fruit is gone! The one he found!”

There’s no way Teach would kill for one fruit. There were plenty of them on the Grand Line. You had found one and offered it to him once before, but he turned it down. What could he want with a simple purple fruit?

“He killed-” you broke into a sob, unable to contain yourself, still slamming drawers as you searched. “He killed him over a fruit? No. No! There has to be more! There has to be another reason! His death can’t be so meaningless that it’s over a stupid fruit!”

You fell to your knees and covered your face and cried, unable to contain yourself. You could feel your body temperature rising, steam emitting from you. You could feel yourself gasping for air, just trying to breathe. The room was closing in on you.  

None of this was fair. Thatch was a good person. And now he was dead. There had to be a bigger reason. 

“Marco! I need you in here!” Your father called, and the medic rushed in. You saw him stagger at the door as he assessed the scene that laid out in front of him, and then he kneeled down next to you. 

“We need to get you out of this room, kid.” Marco said. His voice was even, but you could see tears in his eyes. “It’s not good for-”

“I can’t leave him,” you sobbed, pulling away from him and trying to crawl back towards the bed. “He never left me. I can’t- Marco. I can’t-'' You clutched at your chest, your breaths becoming low and rapid. You could feel yourself hyperventilating as you began to think about your future without Thatch. He had always been there. You didn’t know life without him. You didn’t want to.

You knew you had to calm yourself down. Slow, long breaths were what you were supposed to be doing, but you couldn’t get enough air to do them. If you kept panicking like this, you wouldn't be any help to anyone. And yet, Thatch was dead, and you felt like your heart was going to explode. 

“Ace,” you heard your father call, and your eyes waited at the doorway for him to appear. 

Ace suddenly appeared, his eyes focused on you. “Yes sir?”

Marco took out a needle and flicked it a few times. “This might pinch a little bit.”

“She’ll be fine. Go look in your division cabins for Teach,” Whitebeard said. “I want an immediate report.”

Ace nodded. You could see his eyes full of pain before looking back at your father. “Yes sir.”

You felt a small pinch, and the world went black.

--

Only a few minutes must’ve passed, because when you woke up, there was still chaos. You were now out in the commander’s common room, laying down on the couch. You kept your eyes closed at first, trying to listen for any reports. 

“Pops, I know what they both said they saw, but Teach is one of our oldest members,” Blamenco whispered. “And he was under division two. There's something to be said about-”

“Blamenco, son.” Your father’s voice was dangerous. “Be very careful about how you proceed with that sentence.”

“Well-” Blamenco stammered, trying to backtrack. “I wasn’t insinuating anything. I was just…”

“Division One is accounted for,” Marco said. You could hear his footsteps approaching you. “Is she awake yet? I didn’t give her much.”

“Not yet.” Ace’s voice was soft, and you almost flinched. You hadn’t realized he was there. “So every division is accounted for except for ours.”

“And only one person is missing from your division?” Your father clarified.

“Yeah. Teach.”

“I’m going,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes as you opened them. 

“Now hang on-” Marco said. “Nobody said anything about-”

“Teach didn’t follow the rules, and he killed a commander. He killed a brother.” Ace stood to his feet. “I’m going to make it right. I’ll be back soon.”

You grabbed his hand as he walked away, pulling him back to you. “I’m going,” you said more firmly. 

“I dunno, Ace.” Your father looked around the room nervously. “I think we need to let it go. I’ve got a bad feeling about this one.”

So did you, to be honest. Something felt off. But you had to get justice for Teach. If you showed even a sign of doubt, Ace would go without you. 

“We can’t let Teach get away with this,” you argued. “It’s our code. There has to be consequences.”

Your father frowned, looking at the two of you. “It’s a bad idea.”

“So Thatch will never get justice?!” Ace shouted. He was finally starting to crack, you could see it. But you wouldn’t comment on it until later, when you were alone. 

“Please, dad,” you begged. “The two of us can do it.”

Ace whipped his head around and looked at you, baffled by your words. “You are not going.”

“Like hell! Yes I am!”

“No. You’re not.”

“Yes I am!” You scoffed. “What happened to being equals like you promised?”

You saw your father and Marco shoot a look of “I told you so” to Ace, but they said nothing. 

Ace shook his head. “I’ll take care of Teach. I’m his division commander.”

“And I’m your strategist. So unless you have a plan, I’m coming.”

“I’d actually feel better if the two of you went,” your father admitted, but his eyes were directly on Ace. “Just keep each other safe.”

“Deal,” you said. You understood what he meant. Ace was reckless and preferred to do things the dangerous way. It would be up to you to protect him. You could do that. You would keep him alive, no matter what. 

The two of you quickly prepared a small amount of rations and clothes and grabbed a few thousand berries, and then you jumped into Ace’s Striker. You just had to get into the water, and then those results from Marco’s tests wouldn’t matter anymore. You could ignore them for another week or so. This would probably be your last mission for a while, but at least it was with Ace. 

“Let’s go,” you said, and you began to be lowered down. 

Marco’s eyes widened as he saw you leaving, realization hitting him. “Wait! Pops, hang on! Don’t let her go!”

“Stop!” Your father called. “Marco, what it is?”

The ropes stopped their descent. You knew if Marco saw those results, you wouldn’t get off the ship again for at least another year. You couldn’t bear the thought of Ace doing this without you. You needed to do this. For Thatch. 

You reached up and burned the ropes, dropping you and Ace down into the sea below. Ace shot you a confused look as the two of you struggled to hold on to the small boat as it collided with the water. 

“Did you forget we’ll drown if we fall in!?” Ace shouted. 

“Go!” you yelled back. Ace heard the urgency in your voice and immediately obeyed, roaring the engine to life and kicking the two of you off into the horizon. 

You couldn’t look back. You knew you’d only see disappointment, and people arguing whether they should stop you or not. 

You managed to keep your nausea under control, only throwing up over the boat once, so discreetly that Ace didn’t even notice it. It was clear he was deep in thought, his mind a million miles from you. 

The two of you were silent for almost half the day. It wasn’t until the sun was setting that Ace spoke.

“Wanna tell me why you burned the ropes?” He pulled out a sandwich and handed you half, but you declined. It didn’t feel right eating food that wasn’t made by Thatch, and you still felt sick to your stomach. 

You knew you had to tell him. It wasn’t fair to keep this information from him. Even if you could keep it from the crew, you couldn’t keep it from Ace.

And yet, you knew once he found out, everything would change. He would be angry and hurt, he may not even want you around anymore. You weren’t ready for the repercussions of that yet. 

“Marco wouldn’t have let me leave if he checked those test results. And I need to be on this mission. I need to-” your voice broke, and you couldn’t bring yourself to continue talking about it. 

The boat engine died, and you could feel Ace’s eyes on you, full of worry. “You’re really starting to scare me,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“It might be nothing.”

Ace bit his lip, clearly wanting to argue, but he decided against it. “There’s an island not too far from here. We’ll reach it by tonight. We’ll go to the clinic first thing tomorrow to have a doctor check on you.”

“Okay,” you whispered. A pit in your stomach formed, knowing you couldn’t keep up your facade much longer. You could only hope that Ace wouldn’t loathe you when he found out.

--

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[aunteat]

T | Children of Satan One-Shot | Day 3: Eucharist for @vamptember WARNING: depictions of torture, religious symbolism, implied sexual conduct

Santino visits Armand in the dungeons.

Impossible to know how much time had passed without even the rise and fall of the moon as a guide but he knew it must’ve been near time for his next victim. The hunger was growing terrible again — not just bodily anymore, it infected his mind. He struggled to distinguish sleep from wakefulness, couldn’t tell if he suffered dreams or memories or some amalgamation of both but the subject was always the same. One moment, he was lying in the dripping dungeon of that terrible Venician brothel, near death with fever, and the next he was in one of the grand Turkish establishments, being fawned over, massaged with oil, stroked and caressed till he was blind with pleasure. Then he woke again in the dirt cell, still feeling the warmth of their hands against his thighs. 

He didn’t know how long he lay there, face to the dirt, grasping for the sensation when the chorus of shrill squeals finally registered to him. He rolled over and, sure enough, there was Santino, standing at the edge of the cell, with his hoard of rats like familiars streaking through the bars of the cell and over his bare feet. 

“Blood.” His voice was raw with thirst but he knew already that Santino had brought him no victim. He would’ve smelled it.

“A thankless child always asks for more than he knows he deserves. The lowest of vermin know only to take what they are given but you, foulest creature of them all, would demand more,” Santino said. Armand could see he had something in his hands. He tore it, ripping from it a piece no larger than a coin, and cast it at Armand’s feet. The rats swarmed it, crawling over his ankles, tickling his soles with their whiskers so, wincing, he drew his knees to his chest. 

They didn’t sicken him outright the way they might’ve a mortal but the sight of the hoard, the writhing mass of wire fur and fleshy tails, still left a terrible gnawing feeling in his stomach. Perhaps it wasn’t the rats so much as how closely he associated them with Santino. 

“You dream of whores. You lay awake longing for earthly pleasures. Do you think we have not noticed?” Santino asked. He sounded almost saddened, a priest who had listened to the confession of a grievous sin. The rats parted seamlessly for him as he knelt. “God has transformed your body, taken from you the fleshly pleasure of lust, and yet still you lay in want — always in want — and so I have brought you what you want.”

It fell from Santino’s grip onto Armand’s chest, the thing he had been holding. It was a severed hand, lean with long fingers and trimmed nails, bloodless and white but still malleable, still fresh. Despite all the gore he had seen, had created in his desperation to rid his cell of the rotting bodies, he gasped. He grabbed it to throw it out of the cell, but Santino’s hand fell over his and pinned it there. 

“This is what you dreamed of, is it not? The touch of your whores?”

“Get it away from me.”

“Tell me is this not what you asked for?”

“Get it off!”

And, to his surprise, Santino did. He lifted his hand off Armand’s chest and took the severed hand with it. 

“She said she would please me, this woman, even looking as I am. The whore would defile herself for a creature such as me,” Santino lifted the hand to his mouth and let a finger, her ring finger, slide into his mouth in a gesture that seemed almost obscene. And then he bit down. Armand could hear the cracking of bone, the tear of her skin, his vampire sense spared him nothing. Santino plucked the finger from his mouth as though it were but an orange rind. “Did you take Holy Communion, child?”

Confused, stammering, Armand nodded, “Yes.”

“Then you know what to do.” He held the finger before Armand’s lips. “Take it.”

His eyes were bulging, wild, trapped between horror, amazement, and mortal confusion. 

“Open but do not swallow. Even such a Eucharist would be wasted on you.” And when Armand still did not move, Santino tilted his head. “Would you rather I fit it elsewhere?”

Choking a sob, Armand opened his mouth and Santino, breathing a soft sigh, placed the finger on his tongue. It tasted of nothing, not blood, not sweat, perhaps faintly of the dirt from Santino’s hand, if anything at all, but the revulsion swelled in him all the same. 

“Do you see, my son? To hold their flesh in your mouth, to see them devoured by rats, this is how you will take pleasure in whores now. Do you understand?”

Then, as if flicked by an invisible switch, they came, the rats, crawling up his tattered hose and shirt, his chin, his lips, his very gums. Armand choked a cry, tried to reel back, to bite down even and sever their little heads, but Santino held him, squeezing his fingers so viciously into Armand’s cheeks that he couldn’t. 

He heard the snapping of their little jaws as they devoured the finger, their fangs scraping down to the bone. Their fleshy tails wiped his face and he felt their little tongues on his cheeks, licking away the blood tears that he hadn’t even realized were falling. It wasn’t just the revulsion — that alone he might’ve managed — but the indignity, the sheer cruelty of the act, he couldn’t bear it!

It seemed an eternity they were there before Santino released his face and the rats fled as if of one mind. Armand rolled to his side, gagging, spitting out the bones, the little hairs, the bits of grit their little paws had tracked into his mouth. He pushed himself up on his elbows and his body convulsed in retches. There was nothing in his stomach to vomit up and yet on he went retching until his body gave beneath him and he fell back to the dirt, panting and exhausted.

“Demon!” He heaved for breath and, once again, with all his might screamed, “Demon!”

“No, child. Nothing of the sort.” Oh, how saddened Santino seemed by this. He shook his head gently and laid his hand on Armand’s thigh. He tried feebly to kick him off but he had exhausted his strength. “You would still believe I take delight in this torture but I do not. Would that I could relieve you of this suffering… But what a disservice I would be doing to you. We learn, all of us, through pain. We grow into the beings that our Lord would us to be. No. For all the begging in the world, I would not deny you this.”

[decladam]

Girl we need you to be a sister to all of us and spill everything with do with Queer. How was Drew’s acting and how was his character? What type of person was he?

How were the sex scenes? Romantic? Rough? And how was Drews character in those scenes, because from what I have understood, he is a bit confused about his sexuality and not that confident?

Annnnnnd last….how much do we get to see if drew himself? 😭😭

hii so drew was fantastic in it. his character is a bit strange and difficult to read, very closed off and there's no background to his character. he's very nonchalant and soo hot like he knows what he's doing. the sex scenes i don't know it's difficult to understand like for lee they were romantic but i'm not sure about drew's character, again he's very hard to read. like i think he enjoys it but also doesn't want him i don't know how to explain. he's very present in the movie and there's a scene in the jungle where his acting is 10/10

overall the movie is a bit strange, it feels like a fever dream. and he doesn't shy away from the sex scene like he truly goes for it ahaha

[tothisemptiness]

Golden Hour: Part 2 Analysis Bonus: Where Do We Come From? What Are We? Where Are We Going?

Sorry for the long title but this was just the perfect opportunity to use my favourite art piece title of all times (even though I hate Gauguin's style). As you can understand from the title, I will discuss the parallels and juxtapositions between each protagonist's character in the start and as of Golden Hour: Part 2. This doesn't further my theories in any way and I'm doing this solely because I think it's fun to notice and compare these. If you want to see the previous posts of this series you can find them below:

Part I: The Diaries

Part II: "Ice On My Teeth" MV

Part III: The Chess Piece Theory

Hongjoong: Captain had started this journey with the main intention of getting on TV and finding his family. In the process, he used music and dance as a tool for his goal and created himself a new family thanks to this. In the end he did get on the TV and found the family he was looking for, even though he strayed away from music and dance and did this through literature. But now the family he created is scattered across the world with separate lives, barely ever communicating, just like his biological family was. Get one, lose one I guess.

Seonghwa: In the beginning Seonghwa was sick and tired of all the routine and to-do lists. The thing that triggered his attraction to art was actually how free the dancing girl seemed. However, he found solace in emergency training when he was working through the traumas of World Z. I don't know if you've ever had any emergency training, but they are basically to-do lists that you must memorize so well that you can execute them flawlessly without thinking. The thing that basically freed Seonghwa from his own mind was routine and to-do lists. In fact, he found this more comforting than vague dreams. This also manifests itself in The World diaries too since Seonghwa was the planner of the group. Maybe the road to freedom wasn't getting out of the routine, it was just planning with a goal in mind.

Yunho: Yunho's trigger was his brother's death and most of his arc was about grief and moving on. However, Yunho very clearly doesn't move on. He becomes an archaeologist after seeing another Cromer in hopes of finding more artifacts and going back to his dangerous yet glorious life in World Z. Or to take back the time and go back to save his brother again. As far as we can see, he is the only member who chooses a path in life with the direct goal of going back. Furthermore, as an archaeologist his job and lifestyle is about dead people and their lives, which becomes a bit meaningful considering his brother's death. I'm sorry if this last part sounds insensitive, I literally cannot find a way to mention this sensitively.

Yeosang: I find his character development the most interesting actually. First of all, it was never about music at all when it comes to Yeosang. He was already playing music; in fact, he was forced to play it. What drew him to the group was escaping expectations. However, at the end of the day, he plays right into them. He becomes an investor just like his father (I imagine, but he may have a different job related to finance too). He tries to prove to himself that he is different by financing arts but in the end he is the one to tell Wooyoung that he should not try again because a life that doesn't follow his first passion is not a failure and is good enough. Rather aggressively. He reminds me of a father who is concerned that his son will doom himself to failure by taking the risk of becoming an artist and wants him to just settle with a normal job. Very much like his own father.

San: In the first Fever diaries, San's big issue was moving around too fast to form meaningful relationships. He was basically being dragged around by his family. And then he decided to stay at one place where he formed them. And when everyone started moving on he realised staying at one place was not the key to this: it was what you make of the relationships you form in the limited time you have. So he starts moving around to create new relationships and experiences; because life is about sharing love, eating together, and cleaning up after your own messes. And he wants to share love and eat together with many people. He still does the same thing he used to hate when he was young, but this time he does it with his own consent and moves only when he is ready. I think it was always about consent with San: the difference between exploring and not being dragged around.

Mingi: There is a crazy juxtaposition between Mingi's poverty when he was young and his extreme wealth now. When he was young he was basically a ghost because of his social and economical status and was only noticed when he was about to be bullied, except for Wooyoung. Now he is the talk of the world and is highly praised.

Wooyoung: I am looking through the notes I took while going through each diary entry ever as I write this and I realized something: I didn't write anything about Wooyoung. Because Wooyoung is the only stagnant character. His wishes don't change, nor does his humour. And the only reason I can find for this is he is the only character who didn't manage to move even one inch to his dream, he wanted to become a dancer and he still isn't a dancer. And he isn't the type to settle too, he is an artist through and through.

Jongho: When we first meet him he was clinging on to music and becoming an idol after his dream of becoming a basketball player had failed. Now his dream of becoming an idol is through too and he is settle with just being a producer. He still believes the opportunity will present itself but let's be honest, at 24 (I take irl Jongho's age for the character's age, check Part I for explanation) it is basically impossible to become an idol with no previous media exposure. I think becoming a producer and vocal coach for new groups and trainees because you weren't picked as an idol is very similar to becoming a basketball coach because you couldn't make it as a player. Jongho can never achieve his full dream, he always has to settle.

What Is Their True Passion?

As I was writing this I realized something: The only members who pursued music/dancing for music/dancing's own sake were Wooyoung and Jongho. For all else it was just a tool to achieve what they were missing. Hongjoong used it to become famous and reunite with his family, Seonghwa did it because of the feeling of freedom and beauty it provided, Yunho only got interested because he wanted to fulfill his brother's dream despite his life being cut short, Yeosang wasn't even scouted because he was an artist but because of his engineering and accepted the group's offer because it was the only place he felt he could live up to expectations (manning drones is a fulfillable expectation for him), San was in for the stable relationships he could finally form and Mingi was mainly into music because it was a way for him to escape his reality.

We see all these members achieve their goals in the end: HJ finds his family, SH feels free one way or another, Yeosang can live up to the expectations of him becoming a successful investor, San is forming bonds his way and Mingi is no longer struggling financially so he has nothing to run away from. Yunho still hasn't achieved dream but has found a way that doesn't involve art.

We can clearly see for any of these guys it was never about art at all so they have an easier time moving on from this phase. Wooyoung and Jongho, however, are the only ones who actually did art for art's sake and in the diary they are the only ones who are serious about trying again. However Jongho is the kind of person to settle with "good enough", he likes his peace more than making his true dream come true (and who can blame him for that?) while Wooyoung will do whatever it takes to achieve his first dream, because it is his only dream. That is why Yeosang's words don't make sense to him and seem cowardly. This is where the controversy is: he can't understand the others because he doesn't know what their real goals were and the others cannot understand him because for them art was never the thing they were really chasing after so accepting to pursue another dream isn't that hard.

So clearly, when Wooyoung wishes to reignite a passion he doesn't specify, there are a wide range of passions that can be reignited within the group. And I am so curious to see how events will unfold following the latest diary. Thanks for coming to my TED talk <3

[angelsanarchy]

Fever Dreams: Mike x Y/N One Shot Series PRT 02

Tagging: @icarus-star @chainsawgvtsfvck @romanroyapoligist @liquidsmoothdomme @madamemaximoff06 @drazenka @blacksoul-27 @444rockstargf @kappasbbgirl

Leff had asked Y/n to take Mike under her wing for a few drop offs knowing that if anyone could keep him in line, it would be her. When they pulled up, Sicky and Y/n were standing in the parking lot smoking a cigarette and chatting. Mike realizes he's never seen Sicky talk to anyone with a smile on his face.

"Here he is. Still in that same Halloween costume. Tell me Mikey, are you going to ever switch it up or is homo cowboy the only getup you've got?" Sicky laughed.

"Ha-ha, blow me." Mike responded leaning against the wall.

"That's more Y/n's speed." Sicky nudged her arm and she laughed.

"She's more than welcome to accept that invitation." Mike cocked his eyebrow at her.

"Yeah right. You couldn't handle me sweetheart." She chuckled at him.

"I mean if you're scared, say you're scared." Mike teased making Leff scoff.

"Stop flirting with her." Leff scolded.

"Uh oh, daddy's mad. Better behave cowboy or I'll have to tie you up." Y/n walked past Mike and flicked the top of his hat as she followed Leff into the garage. Mike watched her ass as she went inside and Sicky let out a snort.

"Oh no no no little buddy. She's way out of your league. Don't embarrass yourself kid." Sicky couldn't believe Mike was checking Y/n out.

"How is she out of my league? She works for Leff. It's safe to say she's on the same level as I am." Mike argued.

"Oh boyo, if only you knew. Y/n doesn't just work for Leff. He went out of his way to acquire her to be a part of this team. Leff would cut your balls off and hand them to you." Sicky explained.

"So they are fucking...he acted like they weren't a thing." Sicky shook his head at Mike's assumption.

"No no no, you're not hearing me. He is very protective of her. She might as well his kin. He's not going to let you fuck around with someone he took a bullet for." Mike's eyebrows went up.

"He took a bullet for Y/n? Why? When? By who?" He started questioning and Sicky waved his hands.

"Keep it down Nancy Drew!" Sicky scolded. Mike leaned against Sicky's car trying to pull whatever information out of him as he could.

"Let's just say in this game, everything has a price, sometimes even people. Y/n was caught up in a pretty shit organization but she was doing Leff a solid by keeping an eye out for your moms." Sicky explained.

Y/n walked out of the garage and looked between the two suspiciously.

"You're with me cowboy. Sic, Leff wants you with him on a meet today." She patted Mike on his chest and he smiled at her.

"Be easy with that one Y/n. Boyo still has training wheels on him." Sicky teased putting his cigarette out. Mike gave him the finger before he was left with just her standing next to the car.

"You're going to behave, aren't you?" Y/n looked him over.

"Well what kind of punishment do I get if I don't?" He cocked his eyebrow stepping into her space.

"Typically a bullet in the ass and from what I've seen-" She grabbed a handful of his ass and squeezed.

"You've got an awfully nice ass to be pulling bullets out of." She smirked. Mike bit his lip at the feeling of her hands gripping his ass.

"Seriously, keep your head down and we'll be just fine. Good boys get prizes too." She teased as she slipped into the driver's seat of the car. Mike quickly adjusted himself before getting into the passenger seat.

"So...how long have you worked for Leff?" Mike asked casually making her chuckle.

"You spent 10 minutes with Sicky outside and that's your first question?" She asked playfully. Mike rolled his eyes.

"I was trying to be subtle." Mike kept his eyes on her as she drove.

"Oh baby, nothing about any of this is subtle." She reached over and tugged on the collar of his leather jacket.

"I've got to ask, is this like a legit taste in fashion for you or are you trying to create a name for yourself in the game?" She asked seeming genuine.

"I just happen to like it. Plus the hat keeps my hair from being all over the place." Mike explained seeing her nod her head.

"I mean if I'm being honest, the leather looks sexy on you and the hat isn't awful. Who doesn't want to think about riding dick when they see a guy in the middle of the day at a bank." Y/n made wild gestures with her free hand and Mike laughed.

"So you're admitting that you thought about it when you first saw me?" Mike asked.

"I mean my first thought was what crazy metrosexual just jumped into Leff's backseat and will I have to hide his body." Mike found himself laughing more in the last 5 minutes with Y/n than he has since moving to New York.

"We can talk about first impressions and braid each other's hair another time. Right now, I want to show you how things are done so everyone gets paid and no one loses an eye." Y/n pulled up to a location and parked the car.

"As much as I know you'll want to, keep your eyes alert and off my ass...you get a 2.5 second window to get a glance but that's it." She got out of the car and Mike took a few seconds to steal glances before getting out. He shut the door and she stood next to him.

"Eyes on the prize, Billy the Kid." She teased.

"I thought you said I only get 2.5 seconds?" Mike commented throwing his hands out. Y/n rolled her eyes and started for the front door of the establishment.

Mike had a soft spot for her and he knew it was only going to get so much worse.