#i hope this makes at least a fraction of sense okay

[princessfbi]

bucktommy+4 or 5 for the shivering prompt plssss

4. “I just… I’m really tired. Can’t really stop shaking.” + Bucktommy

Tommy didn’t consider himself a violent man. Not by nature at least. Growing up with his old man made nurture into survival and he knew how to throw a punch when he needed to.

He was two seconds away from doing just that. His nails dug into the flesh of his palm as his knuckles popped and he knew with a hundred percent certainty that if he lost control he would be arrested very shortly after but he didn’t give a single flying fu—

“He’s good!” Athena’s broke through like a sparrow cutting through a hurricane, screeching for attention in the storm inside his head. “Let him through!”

Tommy barely made it through the flimsy police barricade without yanking it down to get through.

“Sergeant Grant!” Athena made a face at that but didn’t correct him like she usually did. “Where is he?”

“This way,” she said simply and Tommy’s racing heart rate would thank her later for not even stopping to wait for him. She simply swiveled on her heel and expected him to follow.

He did. Somehow. Somehow he followed her through the chaos of bodies moving across the parking lot through the thick syrup of tension. He knees felt weak beneath him as he took in the scene.

“He’s okay,” Athena said over her shoulder. “But he won’t let me call anyone or go to the hospital. I’m hoping you can talk some sense into him.”

“Hospital?” Tommy demanded and Athena held up her hand.

“He’s okay,” she said again before she stopped and pressed her palm to his sternum. It wasn’t hard but it was firm and it was enough to rock Tommy back on his heels. “Tommy, listen to me.”

Tommy couldn’t see him. He was scanning the crowd over Athena’s head but he couldn’t see him. He could see everyone else, tight expressions contrasting the traumatized crying and detectives and crime techs, but not him. Not Evan.

“Tommy!” Tommy’s eyes snapped down to Athena again and her eyebrow cocked into a high arch on her forehead. “He is okay. He’s shaken up but he’s alive.”

Hearing that made the tightness in Tommy’s chest ease just a fraction but it was enough for him to exhale. It was enough to let out that stale, brittle sip of air that had been prickling in his lungs and burning at his throat from between his lips. Ever since he’d gotten the call, a frown marring his face at the unfamiliar number, he’d been holding that breath as he raced to get his keys and drove halfway across town desperately fiddling with the radio for some kind of information that meant he wasn’t walking into the situation totally blind.

“He’s okay?” Tommy asked anyway.

Athena nodded once but her mouth was pinched in a sharp pucker. “He’s okay. But he’s…”

Athena stopped and let her eyes drift to the side.

Tommy followed her gaze and felt his blood turn to ice at the white sheet draped over what his brain was slow to realize was a body. The ground was wet and Tommy chose not to dwell on what was a trick of the light and what was blood.

“It was close.” Athena said. “Too close. I need you to lock in and talk some sense into him.”

Tommy opened his mouth to argue. On the list of people in his life, Tommy should’ve been the last who could talk some sense into Evan. He didn’t even know what they were anymore. They weren’t boyfriends. But to call Evan an ex felt incomplete. It felt wrong. They weren’t friends either even though it had been weeks and Tommy still felt like he was orbiting around Evan night and day. And yet the thought of someone else receiving the call, someone else being there for Evan while Tommy might have never known, was enough to nearly make him rip his hair out.

“He doesn’t want anyone to know. But he needs them, Tommy.” Athena pressed. “And he needs to at least be checked out by a doctor. Just please, talk to him.”

Every one of Tommy’s instincts told him to run. It was too much, too real, too close to the line he’d sworn he would never cross unless he was absolutely sure.

But the tight pull in his chest was begging him to stay. That gravitational pull of Evan Evan Evan had him caught up in his orbit still.

Tommy nodded. “I’ll try.”

“He’s over there,” Athena said, pointing to an ambulance. “I’ll be over when I can.”

Again Tommy nodded and then let himself hurry over to the ambulance. He didn’t quite run but it was a close thing. He rounded the corner where familiar long legs were hanging off the bumper and —

His heart broke a little when he saw Evan.

Athena hadn’t lied to him. Evan was alive and while he was far from fine, he was okay. There was a cut going through his brow held together by a few steri-strips and a bruise across his cheek that ignited that urge to start swinging again but he was alive. He was alive and he was whole and he was shaking.

It was a tremble that he couldn’t hide even beneath the shock blanket draped over his shoulders. A terrible, all consuming thing that Tommy unfortunately knew well. It was a whole different thing to see it holding Evan captive though.

“Evan,” Tommy breathed before he even realized he was speaking.

Shiny blue eyes darted up and Tommy managed to catch a glimpse of the red almost welt strapped across Evan’s throat before he forced himself to move.

“T-Tommy?” Evan said, blinking like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. A small smile twitched across his lips before Evan blinked again and he was still trembling. “He—hey! Hi! What… what are you doing here?”

He was pale, his skin slick with almost grey sheen that made his eyes nearly sunken in with exhaustion that bruised circles beneath them.

“Sergeant Grant called me,” Tommy said, crossing the distance between them in three easy strides. “Said someone used you as a human shield and you thought you’d get away with not telling anyone.”

He was trying for light. That was familiar territory. Light. Easy. Pretending.

There was blood on his face, flecks of dried blood that Tommy knew somewhere in his gut wasn’t Evan’s.

Evan pouted. “I—I’m okay.”

“Yeah?” Tommy hedged and he wanted to touch him. He wanted to cup his cheek and tell him it was going to be okay. He wanted to touch him so bad it hurt. “Think you could let a doctor confirm that?”

Evan’s lips twitched like he could see right through him. The scary thing was, he usually could. “I just… I’m really tired. Can’t really stop shaking.”

The crash. Every first responder knew it well. Evan’s body was at war with itself, fighting the adrenaline crash by skittering his blood beneath his skin and his nervous system trying to shut down and make him sleep.

“You… you didn’t have to come,” Evan said and the sting nestled under Tommy’s ribs. He pushed it away and focused on Evan. He had to focus on Evan because Evan may not want him but he needed someone.

Tommy was available. He would always be available.

“I can call E—”

“No!” Evan’s eyes went wide as he sat up, the trembling racking up into a high frequency that practically made his teeth chatter. “No please. I just…. I just need…”

A soft sound fell from his lips as he hunched in on himself, making himself small, and Tommy dropped down to his knees in front of him.

“Hey,” he said, searching up to catch Evan’s gaze. “What is it? What do you need?”

Evan’s lip trembled and that sound fell from his lips again, louder and more obviously a sob he couldn’t keep back. The sheen in Evan’s eyes grew wet and he was right there on the edge; right there and desperately trying to hold on.

Tommy smoothed a hand over his thigh. “Talk to me, baby. What do you need?”

“Tommy,” Evan breathed and then Tommy’s arms full of Evan’s trembling form.

Tommy held him tight, folding onto the pavement so he could take more of him into his lap.

He was shaking like he was about to break into a million pieces.

Tommy wouldn’t let him. He’d catch each one and put them back in their rightful place if he had to.

“I’m here,” Tommy said into his hair as the hot brand of tears scalded into his neck. “You’re safe. It’s okay. I’m here.”

[yourname-exee]

Chapter eleven: Fragments of Familiarity

Satosugu!reader

chapter 1 - chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4 - chapter 5 - chapter 6 - chapter 7 - chapter 8 - chapter 9 - chapter 10 - chapter 12

Suguru’s mind was running a mile a minute, and Satoru wasn’t any better. The shock was beginning to wear off, replaced by something far more dangerous..

Hope

Satoru tilted his head back, letting out a breath that was both a laugh and a sob, wiping a hand down his face. “She remembers our names..”

“But she doesn’t remember us,” Suguru countered, voice tense and low, his gaze never leaving your confused face. You looked lost, like a bird trapped in a glass cage, uncertain of how to break free.

Satoru’s hands twitched at his sides, aching to reach out to you, but he couldn’t. Not yet. “She doesn’t remember anything,” he whispered. “But why?”

Suguru didn’t have an answer. His heart clenched painfully trying to make sense of all this, but there was nothing, just you standing there with remnants of something familiar clinging to you.

He needed to think, to figure out the best way to handle this without pushing you too far. And while Satoru was desperate, Suguru knew that dragging you back to Jujutsu Tech was too dangerous. If the higher-ups caught wind of you, alive, changed, they would see you as a threat.

An enemy.

No. He wouldn’t let that happen.

Suguru glanced at Satoru, catching his gaze, and gave a subtle shake of his head. “You won't be able to take her back to Jujutsu Tech.”

Satoru’s brows knitted together, frustration bleeding through his usually calm exterior. “Why the hell not?”

“If the higher-ups see her again, they’ll see her as a liability. An enemy, even. They’d never trust her, not when she was supposed to be dead.” Suguru’s eyes softened as he glanced back at you. “We can’t risk it.”

Satoru gritted his teeth, but deep down, he knew Suguru was right. He hated it, hated how complicated this was, how unfair it all felt. How he had spent so long grieving you, only now that he's gotten you back, he was forced to think rationally even when all he wanted to do was throw reason to the wind and hold you.

“Then what do we do?” Satoru asked, voice tense.

Suguru thought for a moment, weighing his options. “I’ll take her with me. At least for now. And once we are able to get her to remember something, anything.. we’ll go from there.”

Satoru opened his mouth to argue, but something in Suguru’s expression stopped him. There was determination in his gaze, an unspoken promise that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

After a long, tense moment, Satoru nodded. “Fine. But I’m going to check in. And if anything anything goes wrong, I’m taking her back myself.”

Suguru didn’t respond, just gave him a knowing look before turning to you. You were still standing there, lost and quiet. Eyes roaming the familiar yet strange place.

Suguru approached slowly, careful not to startle you. “Hey,” he called softly. “I know this is a lot. but. would you be willing to come with me? I promise I’ll explain what I can.”

Your instincts should have screamed at you to run, to avoid following strange men especially ones who clearly knew you when you didn't but something deep inside whispered that it was okay. That it was safe.

Without quite understanding why, you found yourself nodding. “Okay,” you whispered, the word slipping out before you could second-guess it.

Suguru offered a small, reassuring smile, while Satoru exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The tension in the air loosened just a fraction, and Satoru gave you a smirk, trying to mask his relief.

“Don’t go making him regret it,” he teased, but his voice lacked its usual sharpness.

You didn’t know why his tone made your chest feel lighter, why the playful challenge felt so familiar. Your lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but it fell away just as quickly, leaving you wondering why your heart ached when he spoke like that.

Suguru reached out, hesitating only a moment before resting his hand on your shoulder. “You’ll be okay,” he promised. “Just.. trust me for a while.”

And despite your better judgment despite the warning bells that should have been going off, you couldn’t help but trust him. It felt easy, natural, like slipping into an old habit that your body remembered even if your mind didn’t.

He led you down the quiet streets, with Satoru following closely beside. You didn’t know where you were going, but it didn’t matter. Because for the first time since you woke up in that ruined hallway, the fear had eased, just a little.

Tags: @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @perqbeth @sarcasticbitchsblog @sleepykittyenergy

[writingicing]

Been reading a lot of posts about how much the ML in When the Phone Rings is too toxic and unromantic and how can he possibly not have learnt sign language if he loved her all this time and all of that... and here is what I think.

I haven't read the book, and although I did see some spoilers, the show might change things up a bit (and as far as we have seen, the changes made in the show has been for the better.) But, I think before judging him for being too toxic, a couple of things need to be considered.

I mean, what's the genre, guys, come on -

Everyone is entitled to their opinion but the whole point of such a story and such a show is to write weird, dark, toxic characters who are fucked up. People aren't finding his not knowing sign language as romantic because to some extent, people are just letting themselves get lost in the story and experience it first.

If that is like a genuine trigger for someone, that is completely understandable. But on the other hand, can't imagine having a stance of only watching perfectly good non-toxic politically correct characters on screen - is that not boring?

And that is the point - he is fucked up.

The way I see it, it makes sense that he has not learned sign language to communicate with. Like others have been posting, I don't think he intended to ever have a proper relationship with her.

We have only seen hong hee joo's backstory and we've only seen some of it, but because of this we have an understanding of her behavior and where it comes from.

Don't we at least owe that to baek sa eon as well?

People who are fucked in the head don't always know how to love someone best. And that's okay. I don't think that the drama is saying, "hey look we are going to romanticize another husband who won't get his shit together until his wife threatens to leave him." I think the drama is trying to say, "hey, look at both of these fucked up people who have spent so many years together refusing to communicate with each other and refusing to open up."

I find that to be one of the most interesting parts of the show actually - that BOTH of them have refused to open up to each other. She hasn't opened to him in the way she hasn't opened up to ANYONE because her mother forced her to go mute and took her agency away... her mother took her right to being herself away from her, and so she is as much fucked up as he is.

And for him, it seems like his own right to be himself has been taken away as well.

While it is absurd that he hasn't attempted to learn sign language until now, I think this dialogue gives a lot of insight into how he views her in her life: "She is a brand new language."

When you don't know who you are, when you don't know how to love, when you don't know how to receive love, when you are only a fraction of your own self, would you really learn a new language? You might have that book on your shelf... it might give you comfort... it might even give you hope that you will pick it up one day to learn it... but there might still be fear within you to commit, to put effort, to approach something as scary as learning a new language (and I don't just mean sign language, but hong hee joo herself.)

Is he objectifying her in a way? Yes, he is. But he is living an objectified life as well. This is his normal, this is the worldview that he has been taught, and nothing ever has given him the hope that taking a step, a risk, will lead him to something good.

And that is exactly what is finally happening right now. I don't think he's even seen her emote, let alone resist - I mean, he seems surprised to see her angry, to see her cry, to see her make noises, to see her be so confident in her skillset, to see her challenge him. I don't think either of them have ever had stupid playful annoying moments like switching the light on and off, her stealing back her pillow from under his head, them having a tug of war with the trash bag. They have never experienced each other this way and he has especially never experienced her in this way. I don't think he has experienced anyone in this way.

So yeah, he didn't learn it before. But the best way to bridge a communication gap is to reach across it yourself. I don't even know if he's realizing it, but to pay for her dad's new care home is taking power away from her mother....to tell her she needs to stop thinking about what their family will say and go get a job next to him, publicly showing herself right by his side as his EQUAL (not just his trophy wife, mind you) when their family has been asking her to quit her job... to bring her favorite food and telling her comforting words to the best of his abilities... to defend her worth to a random kidnapper bitch... all of this is his way of reaching across that gap himself. And now she is reciprocating, she has accepted that job and she is going to teach him how to communicate with her... she is going to teach him how to learn and understand HER, who is a brand new language for him.

And yeah, alright, maybe he didn't reach across that gap until her safety was actually threatened. But sometimes, when you're so numb to yourself and to the world around you, you need cold water splashed on your face, you need an explosion by your ears to wake you up. Maybe he needed this rude awakening as not only a warning, but a sign that he can indeed go ahead and make a connection with her. That she is real and she won't hurt him, and that he can maybe even trust himself not to hurt her.

Not everyone is perfect, not everyone is created with only green flag qualities. And hong hee joo never has to forgive him, she doesn't have to do anything - but no one can deny that she can forgive if he has earned her forgiveness.

[pneumaticshift]

I just read the latest chapter of BLP!! SO GOOD. Hal’s quiet resignation is such a mood haha. He’s in it for the long haul, unfortunately. It also made me think of a prompt if you’re interested.

What if established batlantern featured a Hal that was a master guilt tripper? I feel like the bats are so emotionally repressed that open emotion or, dare I say, even open crying from Hal would immediately give him an upper hand against most of them.

Now who could fuck up enough in the family that the normally chill Hal would use this power for evil? Who’s to say haha.

Love your stuff! Hope you’re having a good day :)

Ahh, thank you so much!! Really glad you're enjoying it.

I had a lot of fun with your prompt. I feel like Hal's not much of a dick to be emotionally manipulative for big serious things, but he'd definitely use it to be the petty little shit he was always destined to be. I hope you like it 💚💚🦇

———

Jason liked to limit his time in the manor, mostly because he didn’t want Bruce to get the wrong idea. The last thing he needed was the old man to think he was on the verge of some grand, heartfelt return to the family. He certainly wasn’t planning on moving back in or, god forbid, partaking in some kind of formal reinstatement into the fold. 

No, obviously Jason wasn’t here out of any sense of comfort. It was all strictly practical. Maybe his safehouse had a busted boiler. Maybe his internet was out. Maybe Gotham was just particularly miserable tonight and he still hadn’t fixed the window in his apartment.

Then again, there was something about the quiet hum of the Batcomputer that made his shoulders loosen just a fraction. Not that he’d ever acknowledge it, out loud or otherwise. He leaned back in his chair, boots propped up on the console just to annoy Bruce in absentia. Jason planned to be gone way before the old man came back from whatever corner he was brooding in, but Jason liked to believe he’d feel a vague sense of irritation by proxy. 

He wasn’t staying, obviously. He’d just come to borrow some gear. A few upgrades, maybe a couple of batarangs. Not because he needed them, but because stealing from Bruce had always been a real satisfying hobby. Sure, he might have taken a detour to the library to swipe a few of Bruce’s first editions, too. One of them had even been bookmarked, which made it infinitely more enjoyable to take.

Now he was sprawled out in front of the Batcomputer, making a dent in some leftover sesame chicken straight from the container. He didn’t know who’s it was, but Batfamily law decreed that if it had been in the fridge for more than a day, then it was fair game. 

Jason had been in the middle of watching a blurry video compilation of Cursed Gotham Sightings — which included at least three separate clips of himself when he was still running about in his more homicidal phase, and one video of Bruce eating shit after his grapple broke — when the Batcave’s security gave a low, lazy chime. That meant someone with clearance had entered. Which, in turn, meant that Jason didn’t have to shoot them. A shame, really. 

He barely had enough time to decide on his excuse for being there when Hal Jordan floated in like he belonged. 

And, okay, technically he did these days, and that was something Jason was still struggling to wrap his head around. Hal had been dating Bruce for a while now, long enough that Jason stopped expecting it to be some elaborate prank or an undercover operation that Bruce had neglected to inform the family about.

Somehow, against all logic, rhyme or reason, the Green Lantern actually wanted to spend time with Bruce. Voluntarily. Without, like, an ulterior motive. And Jason had yet to determine if that meant Hal had some kind of latent head injury or if he just really enjoyed the suffering that came with a man who’d rather break a bone than express any kind of positive emotion. 

Hal took one look at Jason, then at the takeout box in his hand. "Is that my sesame chicken?”

Jason paused mid-bite and very deliberately glanced down at the takeout box. There was a smudge of sauce on the lid, a logo he hadn’t bothered to look at before, and something suspiciously close to Hal’s name scrawled on the side in what was probably Alfred’s neat handwriting.

He looked back up at Hal. “...Dunno. Might be.” And then, because committing to the bit was a family trait, he popped the chicken in his mouth and chewed nonchalantly. 

Green Lantern was well known for deliberately being a dick when the situation called for it, so Jason had been expecting some pushback. He’d seen the guy bicker with Bruce enough times that it was fairly reasonable to assume Hal would at least attempt some petty retribution. At the very least some half-assed back-and-forth that would pass the time before Jason inevitably got bored and left.

He really, really didn’t expect for Hal’s entire body to slump mid-air. Hal just, like…deflated. His shoulders hunched, his mouth opened a little like he didn’t know how to continue, and his mask fizzled away so Jason could see the very specific kind of disappointment that would’ve been more apt on a kid that just got its favourite toy taken away. Hal blinked and his feet drifted down to the ground with all the enthusiasm of a man being lowered into his own grave. 

“Oh,” Hal whispered, his voice so alarmingly soft. “Oh, okay.”

Jason panicked. This wasn’t in the script. This wasn’t how arguments were supposed to go. He could handle a petty quarrel or a physical altercation, but this… this was new, and Jason really didn’t like where this was going. 

And Hal just stood there. He wasn’t exactly a short guy, but he suddenly looked so small. He was radiating wounded sorrow and his eyes — god, his eyes. They looked moist. Not quite full-on tears, but the kind of damp, glossy sheets that made it very clear that Hal could cry if he wanted to. 

Jason felt a cold sweat start to form. He couldn’t handle tears. 

“Uh…” he started, shifting uncomfortably. “Are you—”

“No, no.” Hal waved him off, his voice too steady. Like he was holding something back. “I get it. It’s fine. I just…”

“Dude. It’s just chicken…”

“Was chicken,” Hal corrected tiredly, looking deeply, viscerally wounded. “Was mine. And now it’s—-” He cut himself off and inhaled sharply like even saying it was too much. His head shook slightly, eyes fluttering shut like he was physically stopping himself from falling apart right then and there. Jason had seen people die with less drama. “It’s gone,” Hal finally whispered.

“...I don’t—”

Hal let out another long, shuddering sigh and he tilted his head back to gaze up at the ceiling. “I thought you were different,” he continued, almost to himself. “I believed in you.”

“Are you being serious right now?”

“Serious?” Hal let out a humourless laugh and he looked back at Jason, eyes filled with pain. Jesus Christ, was he being legitimate right now? Jason felt something foreign and incredibly uncomfortable curl in his chest. Guilt. Actual guilt. Over takeout. This was not his natural state of being. “Jason, I dreamed about that chicken.”

“Oh my God—” “I held on,” Hal continued, placing a fist dramatically over his chest. “Through asteroid fields. Through alien war zones. Through deep, endless space.” He inhaled sharply, eyes fluttering shut again. “And I told myself, ‘One more day. One more patrol. And when I get back home, when I finally, finally touch down, it’ll be waiting for me. Warm. Safe. Loved.’” His voice cracked on that last word. “You’re messing with me, right? You’re not actually…upset about this, right?”

Hal made a wounded noise. “I trusted you man,” he murmured, just loud enough for Jason to hear. And those were exactly the words that always made him crumble, because trust was such a beautiful, sad commodity in his life. Hal proceeded to make it even worse by slamming the final nail in the coffin. “I thought we were family.”

And god-fucking-damnit, that was what broke him. 

Jason clenched his hands into fists around his chopsticks. This was a setup. He knew this was a setup. Hal Jordan simply didn’t break down over something a stupid as food. He didn’t break down, period. The guy had dealt with way too much shit in his life to let takeout dictate his emotional state. 

But Hal looked so goddamn broken. He just stood there with his chest barely rising with each soul-crushing sigh, and his big hazel eyes were dim and devastated. He looked like Jason had personally ripped his heart out and stomped on it. And that was dangerous.

Because Jason was used to the cold. He was used to the sharp blue eyes of his family and the way their gaze straight up cut. His dad — uh, Bruce (goddamnit) and his brothers had disappointment that was quiet and knife-like, slicing just deep enough to leave a scar. He knew how to brace against that, knew how to fight against it. 

Hal wasn’t cut from the same cloth as the family, though. Hal didn’t cut. He ached. His disappointment was soft, open, an exposed wound bleeding out realtime, and Jason didn’t know how to deal with that. 

“It’s just takeout, man,” he tried weakly in one last ditch attempt at retaining some kind of control of the situation. 

“You don’t get it,” Hal murmured, shaking his head. His voice was quiet. Too quiet.

And Jason was apparently a weak fucking man, because he hissed an impassioned “Fuck you,” under his breath, and shoved himself away from the Batcomputer so violently that the chair nearly toppled over. He stormed out of the room before he could let Hal see just how much he’d won.

Exactly twenty-seven minutes later, he came back. He shoved a fresh box of sesame chicken onto the console, slamming it down with force. If he was doing this, he was gonna do it petulantly. 

“There,” Jason growled. “Happy now?”

Hal, now lounging on the chair and watching the compilation videos Jason had left open on the Batcomputer, didn’t even flinch. He just blinked at the box, tilted his head a little, and then — then, like he hadn’t just emotionally manipulated Jason into doing his dark bidding, grinned brightly. 

“Oh, sweet, thanks, buddy,” he said casually, already opening the lid and digging around for the chopsticks.

Jason stared at him. He just...stared. Mute, disbelieving, a little put in his place. 

When did he become so easy to manipulate? How in the hell had he let this happen? More importantly, why — why, why?? — was a small, twisted part of him actually impressed by the gall of this bastard. Jason kind of wanted to fight him.

Hal, chuckling at a grainy video of Batman falling out of a window, barely even acknowledged his crisis. He just hummed happily around a mouthful of chicken, clicked through another video on the Batcomputer, and without looking up, said, “So, you staying for dinner or not?”

Jason opened his mouth. Then he closed it. Sighed deeply. And, so completely resigned, he muttered, “Yeah, fine. Whatever.”

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

Half-Life | Chapter Five

He could survive the temptation a little longer, couldn't he?

Pairing: Plagas!Leon S. Kennedy/F!Chubby!Paranormal Investigator!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Mutual Pining, Angst, Sexual Tension, Smut, Rutting Behaviors, Monster Anatomy

Notes: Hey everyone. It's been nearly two years since I've uploaded a chapter, and I've been struggling to write this one for at least half that time, but it's finally done! I am super proud of this story and how it's progressed thus far, and it's been a roller coaster writing it. I really hope you enjoy it and that it was worth the wait! Please please please tell me your thoughts in the comments, it would mean so much to someone who has been struggling with creating my art the past year or so.

Masterlist | Previous | Next

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Leon woke before you did, curled around Wolfie’s sleeping form. He stilled for a moment when he came to, the events of the previous night rushing back to him.

To ease his worry, he listened for Wolfie’s heartbeat to greet his keen ears. He let out a sigh of relief when the dog’s heart pattered strong and slow in his slumber, his rib cage expanding with a deep breath.

Leon then sat up, looking over to find you asleep on the couch in the same position he left you. You looked so peaceful, so serene. So beautiful.

Before he could stop himself, he crawled over to kneel next to your blanket-covered body and reached out his claws tentatively, stroking your hair that had fallen into your face. You stirred slightly but you didn’t wake, letting out a soft exhale. His palm remained where it laid upon the side of your head for a moment before he finally retracted it, knowing he was pushing his luck touching you like that.

He cringed when the memory of how he had gotten off to the thought of you came unbidden to his mind, a grimace forming on his monstrous face.

He didn’t deserve you, in any capacity, and that was more apparent now than ever after all you had done for him in the short time you’d been in his life.

For a moment, he considered what he might do if he were still human, if he had met you under normal circumstances—a world where he could ask you on a date, where he could kiss you freely, where he could give you even a fraction of what you’d given him.

He should’ve known better than to dwell on what-ifs. This was his reality: a lonely, miserable existence where he was this terrifying creature trapped within the confines of this abandoned village, and that was never going to change.

While still lost in his thoughts, you awoke, blinking at him to clear your bleary eyes.

“Hey…” you started, reaching out to touch his shoulder, the feeling of your warm hand soaking through the fabric of his shirt.

“Hey,” he replied, voice rough. “You sleep okay?”

“As well as anyone can on a sofa, I guess,” you responded with a quiet laugh. “Did you pass out on the floor?”

“Yeah, but I’m used to it.” Leon shrugged to dispel the sternness in your tone. “Besides, I wanted to be right next to Wolfie in case anything happened.”

Your expression seemed to soften at that, offering a small smile. “Makes sense. Hope you got some rest, at least. You needed it.”

Leon simply nodded in confirmation, silence falling over you as you both looked at Wolfie.

You got up slowly from the sofa, stretching out and popping your aching limbs as a yawn overtook you. “We should change his bandages soon.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agreed distantly. You didn’t comment on his morose demeanor despite the furrow of your brows, and he was thankful.

The rest of the day was a quiet one, spent managing Wolfie’s injuries and cleaning up the mess made by the fiasco that was the previous night, mud and blood staining the floor and some of the furniture.

The rain returned as the sun began to set. You had both woken up well after noon due to your all-nighter, so there wasn’t much day left to be enjoyed anyway.

As you prepared yourself dinner, Leon ate the last of his fish and stirred a new fire in the hearth, the chill of yet another storm seeping into the room.

The relative silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. The both of you just simply had a lot on your minds.

However, you seemed to liven up after your meal, returning to your usual chipper self. Leon liked you better this way. You always managed to lift his spirits.

“So…” you drawled as the two of you sat beside each other on the sofa, heating up near the fire, “why don’t I read you something? You know, just to pass the time.”

Leon chuckled at that. “What did you have in mind? Not more of that crappy vampire novel, I hope.”

“Well, maybe I could read The Hunchback of Notre Dame? Oooh, or Frankenstein?” you teased him.

Leon rolled his eyes and scoffed in faux offense, the idea of you reading him tragic stories about monsters not appealing to him in the slightest. “Never mind, I’d rather stick to the stupid vampire book. Might actually lighten the mood.”

“Ah, you think teen angst is amusing, do you?” you replied with a playful grin as you retrieved the novel.

“Only when it’s this ridiculous.” He returned your grin, grateful to be out of his own head for a while.

You tucked your legs beneath you when you sat down once more, beginning to read aloud from where you last left off. Leon simply watched you from his periphery, appreciating the curve of your cheek, the slope of your nose, the way your mouth moved as you spoke. He realized then that you could have been reading a damn math textbook and he would be content to simply listen to your voice and rake his eyes over your plush form.

A couple hours had passed when you finally closed the book, setting it on the cushion beside you as you looked over at Leon.

“Thoughts?” you asked with an impish smirk.

“Still sucks,” came his blunt reply. “That Edward guy is a creep. Bella should be steering clear of him. Why anyone would think this is a cute love story is beyond me.”

You laughed, a tinkling sound that warmed him more than the rippling fire. “Aw, come on, Leon. Where’s your sense of romance?”

“Died off ten years ago, I imagine,” he scoffed, the sound rough and sharp.

He regretted his harsh, self-pitying quip when he glanced over at you, seeing the smile fall off your face, replaced with a remorseful expression.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” he interjected quickly, offering a wry grin. “Just a grouchy bastard these days.”

He felt relieved when your lips curved upwards once more, cursing himself internally for always ruining the moment with his wallowing, wondering how you could even put up with him.

“That does have me curious, though,” you started, looking almost sheepish. “Could I ask you a… personal question?”

“You can ask me whatever you want, I guess. Whether I answer is another thing altogether.” His eyes glinted playfully, though he braced for the inevitable discomfort of your probing.

“You said that you weren’t romantically involved with your friend Claire, right? But was there… someone else, maybe?”

Leon let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “You want to know my dating history, do you?”

“Only if you’re willing to indulge me,” you responded, gnawing your bottom lip in embarrassment.

The sight of your teeth pressing into the soft flesh had him momentarily distracted, but he cleared his throat, looking away as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, you could say there was… someone. It wasn’t… fuck, how do I even explain it?” he grumbled to himself. “Her name was—is—Ada. The thing between us was intense, but it never went anywhere. We always seemed to be working on opposite sides. Makes things complicated, I’m sure you can imagine.”

“That sounds hard,” you told him, offering a sympathetic nod. “Did… Did you love her?”

The question caught Leon off guard, and his face snapped up to look at you with furrowed brows. “I…” he began, but then stopped short, letting out a deep exhale. “I think maybe I did.”

“But you don’t anymore?”

Leon barked out a laugh, drawing his hand over his face in wry amusement. “What is with these questions? It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I guess not,” you replied softly, staring into the fire. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Leon huffed, elbowing you teasingly. “To answer your question… I don’t really know how I feel anymore. I mean, that was a lifetime ago. Thinking about it just dredges up a whole boatload of shit I’d rather keep below the surface, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” You gave him a small smile before you paused, looking away from him thoughtfully for a moment. “Maybe… I could find her for you?”

Leon balked at that. “And what good do you think would come from that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you two could rekindle, I guess,” you replied, looking cowed by his reaction. “If that would make you happy…”

His chest clenched at your words. Christ, you were so impossibly sweet—naive to a maddening degree at times, but sweet. The idea of you going out of your way to search for Ada Wong of all people was almost comical. But beyond that, Leon didn’t want Ada to come here. Not only because he was a monster—one she would probably try to kill—but because you were really all he cared about right now, in the present. The only one he really desired.

He wasn’t going to admit that last part aloud, so he stuck with the first when he responded, “Sweetheart, look at me. You really think I could have some heartfelt reunion like this? I appreciate the intention there, but you have to admit that it’s kinda…”

“Stupid?” you finished for him, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, maybe it is. I guess I forget that most people would freak out around you.”

“I think that’s an understatement,” he said with a light chuckle.

“I just thought… I don’t know… that if she felt the same way about you… it wouldn’t matter…”

“It wouldn’t matter?” he echoed, vexed by the very notion. “Of course it matters. No one in their right mind would just choose to look past this.” He gestured vaguely to himself. “This isn’t some disfigurement someone could accept… I’m not human anymore.”

“I’ve accepted you, haven’t I?” you asked quietly, a look of hurt crossing your precious features.

Leon let out a frustrated growl, closing his eyes. “Yeah, but you’re different. The world isn’t like you. And hell, maybe it should be, but it’s not. It’s violent, and it’s scary, and it’s ugly…” he paused for a moment, letting out a breath. “Like me.”

There’s a silence that stretched out between you after his outburst, and he refused to look at you, staring instead at the flickering flame licking the scorched stone of the hearth.

“You’re right,” you finally said. “I’m not like most of the world. But neither are you.”

He deigned to glance your way and called your name as if to argue, but you held up your hand to stop him.

“You’re not like them because you’re good, Leon,” you murmured, voice small but resolute. “You’re kind, and you’re loyal, and you’re fiercely protective. So I don’t agree with how you see yourself. Not one bit. And if the people you left behind care about you even a fraction of how much you still care about them, they wouldn’t either.”

He said your name again, this time more of a whisper, as he looked directly at you. His mouth went dry as he took in the determined set of your jaw, the fire in your eyes having nothing to do with the flames dancing before you. He didn’t know how to respond, only able to stare at you and wonder how he got lucky enough to have you in his life at all.

“And another thing,” you started, your features shifting into more of a teasing grin to ease the tension, “I don’t think you’re ugly.”

The guffaw that left Leon’s throat was nothing short of thunderous, surprising the both of you and startling Wolfie from where he lay on his dog bed.

“I’m serious!” you exclaimed, your voice earnest despite the smile on your face. “You’re very handsome. As far as cryptids go.”

“You might be the strangest woman I’ve ever met,” Leon responded, though there was only fondness in those piercing red eyes. “I don’t understand you, not one bit.”

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head in amusement. “Most people don’t.”

“Well… maybe I’d like to,” he murmured, the humor from the moment fading into something far more intimate. “Could you clue me in?”

You looked at him with a surprised expression, then glanced at the fire to collect your thoughts.

“Yeah, sure. Okay…” There was a long pause before you started to speak again, voice low, “The truth is, I guess I know how you feel. To a degree. Feeling like an outcast, I mean. Being treated like a freak. I’ve always been… looked at funny. Between my weird personality and interests that most people think are annoying or creepy… and the fact I’m a bigger woman who lives in a world that believes being overweight is some kind of moral failing… I spent a lot of time alone as a child because of that. And as a teen, I never got to be seen as pretty or desired. I thought I was just… inherently broken, I guess. Unwanted. Unlovable.”

Leon felt a slow, simmering rage begin to bubble up inside him at the very notion of you being mistreated, especially for the things he found the most endearing about you. How anyone could look at you and not see an angel, he wasn’t sure.

Before he could interject, however, you continued on, “I know that’s not true now. I mean, I grew up, found people like me. I’ve had a few relationships. But… I know what it’s like to be lonely simply for being what you are.”

“You didn’t deserve that,” Leon muttered darkly. “All of those people were just blind idiots. For one, I think your personality is interesting.” He paused a moment, contemplating whether he should admit the next part before deciding to go ahead, “And I think you’re beautiful too. As is.”

If Leon could snap a photo in his mind’s eye of how you looked in that moment—a bashful expression paired with a bright smile—he would keep it in his pocket to look at every day for the rest of his life. 

“Thank you, Leon,” you replied quietly.

“No need to thank me for being honest,” he responded with a noncommittal shrug. “And I appreciate you trying to relate to me. I can definitely see where you're coming from a bit better now. But I still gotta ask… Why chase after monsters specifically, huh?”

“I don't know… I guess it started when I first heard the urban legend of the Jersey Devil. A child born a monster, through no fault of his own, cast out by his family to haunt the woods forever… Maybe I seek out monsters not just because of the thrill, but because I empathize with them.”

“You might have a few screws loose, bunny,” Leon said, letting out a chuckle, “but you have a big heart.” He stopped, rubbing his clawed hand over his face wearily. “Doesn’t change the fact you’re tempting fate, though. You need to be more careful. Just ‘cause you feel for a monster, doesn’t mean it’ll feel for you.”

“You do.”

Leon cursed under his breath and rolled his eyes before regarding you again. “For now, sure.”

“For now? What do you mean by that?” you questioned, brows pinched in confusion. He loved that look on you. It was adorable. Made him want to cup your cheek and pull you closer, though he refrained.

He cleared his throat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he gazed into the open flame, his tail flicking in a nervous rhythm where it was draped over the armrest of the couch. “Remember our first day together? When I told you I blacked out early on in my transformation and went into a feeding frenzy?”

You nodded and he took a deep breath before continuing, “I know it’s been a long time since then, since I lost control, but… I can’t promise you it won’t happen again. I can’t promise you I won’t lose myself completely. And what then? Would it be thrillseekers sneaking into the village I end up ripping apart? Wolfie? You?”

“It’s been ten years and it hasn’t happened yet,” you told him in earnest, reaching out to grip his forearm. He flinched at the contact, but didn’t remove your hand, enjoying the way your touch seemed to warm more than just his skin.

“Yet,” he repeated bitterly. “Look, from what I can tell, I’m not aging. That means I might be stuck like this forever. I don’t want to live this… this half-life for eternity. And if I did ever lose my humanity? Hell, I’d rather die on my terms than find out the hard way.”

“Leon…” you murmured, a concerned lilt in your voice that picked at the edges of his heart. He could barely look you in the eye now. “Don’t talk like that. You gotta believe there are things worth living for.”

He let out a scoff, finally glancing your way, his expression hardened. “And you’re too damn naive for your own good.”

You ripped your hand from his arm like you were burned, face twisted in a mix of hurt and indignation.

He regretted the harshness of his tone, but he stood by his words.

“Maybe I am naive,” you admitted, biting the inside of your cheek in agitation. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want anything happening to you, Leon. I meant it when I offered to come visit you again. You don’t have to face this alone anymore…”

He stared at you for a long moment, as if drinking in the concern and affection that alighted your cherubic features in the dim glow of the room. “I can’t be the reason you get hurt.”

“And I trust that you won’t hurt me,” you retorted matter-of-factly. “We are friends, aren't we?”

Friends. Wasn’t that a loaded word. Nothing about the way he felt for you was friendly, but he wouldn’t show his hand. “Yeah. We’re friends. But that won’t change anything if I lose control. A wild animal will always lash out, no matter how tame you think it may be. There might come a day where I’m no different than that bear I killed. Where I can’t think beyond pure instinct and hunger. You wouldn’t be safe from me if that happens.”

“I understand your concern, Leon. Really, I do. But you can’t bank your life on a maybe,” you replied, gaze imploring.

“And neither can you.”

You turned away from him, lips pressed in a hard line as you stared into the open flames. “Look, I still have a couple days left before my flight back home. Let’s just… table this, alright?”

Leon nodded, knowing there was no real point in arguing. At least not right now.

“Sounds good to me,” he agreed, voice low. “For now… how about I draw you up a bath? I’m sure you could use the stress relief after yesterday.”

“I… Okay, sure. Thank you,” you responded with a small smile, and he was glad to dispel the tension that had formed between you.

As he busied himself with heating the water for you, you sat beside Wolfie on the floor, petting his fur as you stared into the fire pensively.

Leon left you to it, not minding the comfortable silence, but he was pleasantly interrupted from his thoughts when he heard you singing softly to the old dog. 

He listened for a long while, momentarily forgetting the pot on the stove, quickly moving it from the flame when it started to boil over.

Hearing the slight scuffle, you turned around, eyebrow raised.

“Sorry, am I distracting you?” you asked sheepishly.

“No. Well… yeah,” he admitted with a chuckle. “But not in a bad way. I liked it. It’s… nice to hear up close.”

“Up close?” you questioned, confused.

It was Leon’s turn to feel slightly abashed as he answered, “Your singing… It’s the first time I heard your voice, that day you snuck into the village. It’s how I knew you were here at all.”

Your eyes widened at his revelation before you looked away from him.

“Well, that’s kind of embarrassing,” you said with a snort. “Sometimes on a cryptid hunt, I’ll sing to myself if I’m nervous. Making noise probably defeats the purpose, come to think of it, but old habits die hard.”

Leon laughs at that, shaking his head in fond exasperation. “It seemed to work out for you, didn’t it? You got yourself a bonafide cryptid, in the flesh.”

“Maybe I should write a paranormal investigation how-to book. Clearly I’m successful at it,” you teased him with a grin.

“Yeah, and make sure to put me as co-author,” he quipped sarcastically before dumping the last of the hot water into the tub. “Your bath is ready, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you tell him with a smile, standing up and heading into the side room.

Leon takes your place by Wolfie, his keen ears easily picking up on the sounds of rustling fabric as you strip down and the lapping of water as you slip into the tub. He suddenly feels heat spreading in his gut as he imagines you naked yet again, digging his palms into his eyes to stop the salacious thoughts.

Christ alive. He didn't want you to leave, but he was relieved that you would be heading out in a couple days time, just so he could finally be free of this lustful madness that seemed to have taken over him. He could survive the temptation a little longer, couldn't he?

“So, I was thinking…” came your disembodied voice, snapping him from his cogitation.

“Dangerous,” he joked half-heartedly.

“Har har.” He could practically see the roll of your eyes from behind the wall. “Anyway, I’ve been really brainstorming since last night about ways to keep in contact with you after I leave.”

Leon stiffened at that, unsure of where you were heading with this train of thought. “Yeah? And what ways are those?”

“Letters. I could pay someone to leave mine and pick up yours in the old hunting lodge, maybe? And since you can hear them from a distance, you could know when they come and go so you won’t get caught…”

“I… I appreciate that,” he said quietly.

“But?”

“I just… don’t think it’s a good idea.”

You sighed in disappointment, the sound grating on his very soul. “Right.”

Silence fell between you, and he knew without even seeing you that there was a look of melancholy on your face.

He didn’t understand why you tried so hard for him. He loved and hated it in equal measure.

“I’ll think about it,” Leon lied, hoping it would be enough to brighten you up once more. “And… I’ll think about you coming to visit me again.”

“Really?” you asked, the hope in your voice making him wince.

He never thought lying through his teeth could ever hurt so much. It was worth it to at least keep these next couple days a touch more carefree. The truth would only upset you, and he didn’t want to spend his remaining time fighting.

“Yeah. But don’t think that’s a yes,” he tacked on, hoping to quell his own guilt a bit.

A half-truth is better than a lie, right? God, he couldn’t believe he was trying to justify it, but he made up his mind regardless.

Soon after that conversation, you got out of the tub, dried off, and changed into your pajamas before walking back into the main room. Leon’s eyes roved over your form, admiring your curves when you weren’t looking. 

After brushing your teeth, you joined him by the fire again, plopping onto the couch with a contented sigh.

So he was correct in his assumption that his lie—or half-truth, whatever you’d call it—would put you in a good mood. Somehow it didn’t make him feel any better.

He never liked the concept of a ‘necessary evil’, and he was now reminded why.

He got up after a moment, getting ready for bed himself before sitting next to you once again, your thigh brushing against his and making him tense slightly.

You were so goddamned warm, it was like it radiated through the whole of him even at such innocuous contact.

He then flinched when you laid your head upon his shoulder, but was quick to settle down, craving this simple intimacy more than he thought possible.

“You know, Leon… I’m gonna miss this,” you murmured, picking at a loose thread on your shirt.

His heart clenched again for the umpteenth time that night. If he didn’t already know he wasn’t affected by human maladies, he’d think he was at risk of cardiac arrest.

“Yeah. Me too,” he managed to rasp out in response.

“I’m gonna miss you…”

His tongue was like a weight in his mouth, not allowing him to speak for a moment. “I… I’ll miss you too.”

Now that wasn’t a lie, so why did it feel so tortuous to admit it? Perhaps because he knew he’d never see you again, and such a confession was just another mark against his resolve to end things before his bestial nature finally took root.

The two of you sat together for quite some time. The clock you had brought him ticked through the silence alongside the occasional crackle of the hearth fire and pitter-patter of the raindrops upon the roof—the only indication time was passing at all.

The air felt heavy, but not from the ongoing storm. No, more from all the things that could be said, hanging aloft between you. And yet… you both remained silent.

So lost in his thoughts and the sensation of you leaning against him, it took Leon quite some time to realize you had fallen asleep, soft snores drifting from your slightly ajar mouth.

He smiled tenderly at the sight, wanting nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and never let go.

So, he gently stood and scooped you up, carrying you to his bedroom. The weight of you felt like it belonged in his embrace. Something he would willingly carry forever, if he could.

Once upstairs, he laid you on his own mattress, tucking the blankets around your body to keep you warm, already missing the feel of your skin against his.

For a fleeting moment he was tempted to lay beside you, but knew better than that, instead sweeping a finger along your cheek and enjoying the way the soft skin gave beneath his knuckles.

Glancing at your air mattress, he made the split decision to grab your blankets and pillow from it before heading back downstairs, curling up on the floor beside Wolfie once again with the stolen bedding.

The smell of you permeated his nose, and he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, choosing to ignore the familiar stirring in his loins in favor of another fitful sleep.

It was going to be a hard couple of days.

+++

The next morning, you were met with the sun filtering in through the gaps of the curtains, rubbing at your lash line to dispel the sleep from your vision.

When you sat up, you were confused that you weren’t downstairs on the couch where you had drifted off or even on your air mattress.

You were in Leon’s bed.

It took you a moment—logic coming to you as you fully roused from unconsciousness—to realize that he must have carried you upstairs and tucked you in.

Heat crept up your neck at the very idea, half-wishing you had been awake for it, though a part of you was embarrassed.

You hadn’t been picked up since you were a child, and yet Leon swept you into his arms as if you weighed nothing. You supposed having his monstrous strength came with many plus sides. Though he always treated you with such care, like you were made of porcelain.

Normally, you’d be annoyed by it, wondering if he found you to be too incompetent to do anything on your own, but instead you only felt your chest tighten with barely restrained affection.

You didn’t deserve him.

As you ran your hand over your unruly hair and stood from the bed to face the day, a sudden cramp needled inside your lower belly.

Shit, was it really that time of the month again? You recalled the current date and counted backwards.

Yep. You were ovulating.

Better than being on your period, but the symptoms of mittelschmerz weren't exactly pleasant either.

Nothing a painkiller couldn’t handle.

You meandered downstairs, still only in pajamas, finding Leon already awake and sitting on the floor beside Wolfie. His clawed hand was splayed out across the dog’s furry side, avoiding his injuries as he petted him.

He turned as you leaned against the archway of the main room’s entrance with a soft smile on your face, his red eyes practically glowing as they seemed to drink you in.

“Morning,” he greeted, voice rough from sleep. He must have only just gotten up like you had.

“Good morning,” you responded cheerfully. You glanced at the ground beside Leon and realized he had taken your pillow and blankets and slept on the floor again. “You know, you could have just left me on the couch.”

He shook his head. “You were exhausted. I figured you could use a good night’s sleep on a real bed.”

“And you… carried me upstairs?” you asked, just for clarification.

He looked sheepish. “Yeah, I did. Hope you don’t mind. You were out cold and I didn’t wanna disturb you.”

That crawling heat made its way up to your face again, and you couldn’t stop the shy smile that formed there, avoiding eye contact. “No, I don’t mind at all. Um… Thank you. You’re a good host, all things considered.”

He snorted at that. “Whatever you say, bunny.”

You let out a quiet laugh, your gaze falling on Wolfie.

“Guess it’s time to change his bandages,” you said, grabbing the supplies and approaching the old dog.

Leon stood up and moved back to let you kneel on the floor and get to work, gently tending to the wounds. When Wolfie let out a soft whine as you shifted him, you petted his head soothingly, your heart hurting at his discomfort.

As you finished up, you asked Leon without turning around, “Did you already give him his pain meds?”

You were met with only silence, and in confusion, you peered over at him.

He was standing in the corner of the room, his breathing abnormally heavy as he stared at you with a distant look in his eyes.

“Leon…?” you questioned, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. He took one long step forward and you jumped to your feet. “What’s wrong?”

Your voice seemed to snap him back to reality, and a shuddering exhale left him as he backed away, the look of horror on his face making a pit form in your stomach.

“Leon, you’re scaring me. What’s gotten into you?” you implored, moving closer to him with a placating hand outstretched despite your body telling you to run.

He staggered further back. “N-no, stay away from me.”

“Leon…” you murmured, refusing to listen to common sense and his warning, taking another step.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, the sound making your heart rate pick up exponentially, but he let you approach when his spine hit the wall.

You stood a couple feet from him, and even from this distance, you could see that his pupils were impossibly dilated, practically eating the piercing red of his eyes. Your own widened when you noticed the trickle of drool spilling from his mouth, his sharp teeth glinting in the low light of the room.

Oh. Oh no. Was it happening? Was he going into a frenzy right now?

But he said before that it only happened when he went too long without food, and you knew he ate last night.

Was it you? Were you triggering this somehow?

“Talk to me,” you urged softly.

“You have to leave,” he rasped. “Now.”

He shook his head almost violently as if trying to return to himself, and inched towards the stairs before bounding up them so fast you could barely make out his lean form in the blur. Only a few seconds passed when you heard his bedroom door slam shut.

Despite the primal fear rippling up your spine, your heart sank.

Wolfie let out a huff of pain as he tried to stand up, upset by his owner’s evident distress. You rushed over to him to calm him down, shushing him as you stroked his head soothingly, trying to process what had just occurred.

What could you do? Listen? Pack your things and book it to your rental car?

No. You weren’t going to abandon him. Not yet.

So, even with the rational part of your brain screaming at you to follow his demand, you took a deep breath and slowly made your way up the stairs.

You stood outside of the door, chewing on your bottom lip as you considered what to say, your hand trembling when you gently knocked on the aged wood.

“Leon,” you called out to him. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

“Why the hell can’t you listen to me?” he snarled from the other side. “Do you not get that I’m a danger to you? You need to go. And don’t fucking come back.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong,” you responded, surprised by the conviction in your voice. “Are you hungry? Is that what’s happening?”

You heard him release a deep sigh. “No, I’m not… hungry.”

“What’s causing it? Is it something I did?”

“It’s not your fault,” he assured. “But… when you got closer to me downstairs, I could… smell you.”

“Smell… me?” You were perplexed, not sure what he could even mean if it wasn’t his appetite being stirred by your presence. “I don’t understand.”

There was a stretch of silence, and you could hear your heart hammering in your chest, desperate to get to the bottom of this. To fix it.

“I’m not hungry,” he repeated, voice low, shame evident in his tone, “for food…”

Oh.

Oh.

“I’m, uh…” You swallowed, the pit in your stomach transforming into butterflies as you struggled to get out the words, remembering that sharp little cramp in your abdomen. “I—I’m ovulating. Is that it…?”

You heard him pull in a ragged breath from behind the door, but he didn’t respond.

You took that as enough of an answer.

So this was some deep-seated biological reaction. A sexual one.

You couldn’t stop the shiver that overtook you as the implications processed in your mind.

You paused, swaying slightly on your feet as you made a decision that would likely alter your friendship irrevocably, mouth moving faster than your brain:

“Let me help you.”

He gasped softly before another bout of quiet fell over you.

It was apparent Leon was coming to terms with your suggestion—what could be read between the lines of those four simple words—and you tensed as you awaited his reply with bated breath.

Did you finally lose your goddamn mind?

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he muttered darkly. “I could hurt you if I lose control.”

“Is that the only thing stopping you?” you implored, needing to know if this went beyond simple biology. That maybe he really did want you the way you wanted him.

You were met with silence yet again, until you heard the sound of him nearing the door of his room. You saw the shadows of his taloned feet stretching out towards you from under the gap.

“I’m a monster,” he told you, as if that was enough of an explanation—enough of a reason for you not to follow through on what it was you were offering him.

“And I don’t care,” you stated bluntly. Calmly. “I will walk away if you really don’t want this. But know that I do. More than I should, probably.”

Leon let out a sharp intake of breath. “Bunny… I…”

You knew why he hesitated, what was running through his brain. And so you tried to quell it.

“I trust you not to hurt me, Leon.”

That seemed to do the trick, because he only paused for a moment before finally opening the door.

He was in quite the state, a flush blooming over his pale skin and his hair in disarray from running his clawed fingers through it in his disquietude. He started panting lightly as your scent wafted over to him again, broad chest heaving. 

“Are you sure about this?” he questioned, voice practically a wisp. You could see how tenuous the hold on his self-control truly was as he looked at you, his eyes trailing over your body in a way that made your thighs press together.

“Yes,” you murmured.

He took a tentative step closer, his hand reaching out to grasp your upper arm firmly, though not painfully. “You should be with a human.”

“Humans are overrated.”

A ghost of a smile twitched up the corners of his mouth, baring his sharp teeth before he leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against yours.

“I can’t even kiss you properly,” he lamented, his visage turning melancholic.

It made your heart ache to hear the yearning in his tone, but you were nothing if not determined. You wanted this. Badly.

“We’ll just have to work around it,” you asserted. “Here, sit on the bed for me.”

He pulled back at your soft command with raised brows, but simply nodded, closing the door behind you before tugging you along with him. He then perched on the bed, looking at you with a mix of curiosity and an unadulterated lust that made your toes curl where you stood between his long legs.

You gingerly placed your palms against his shoulders, crowding closer to him, your noses nearly brushing.

“Do you really want this, Leon?” You knew from his expression and body language that he clearly did, but you needed to make sure. Needed him to verbalize that the tension between you was real, that you hadn’t imagined it these last few days in his company.

“I know I’m not the prettiest woman in the world,” you added, half-joking, though the self-deprecation revealed your insecurities in a way that made you internally cringe.

His brows knitted together at that and he brought his fingers to your hips, ever so slowly sliding them upward, making you shiver.

“How many times do I have to say it? You know I think you’re beautiful,” he groused lightly. “And I’d be lying if I told you I haven’t been thinking about getting my hands on you since the moment we met.”

Your stomach did a little flip at the admission and, emboldened, you tilted your head forward and pressed your lips to the top part of his mouth, meeting both skin and teeth.

A sound rumbled in his chest, not unlike a purr, and he closed his eyes as he huffed out a breath.

Taking that as encouragement, you began to slowly place kisses all over his face, something you had been fantasizing about for days. You could hardly believe this was actually happening, but you weren’t about to let the opportunity get away from you.

You gasped when Leon ducked his head to bury his nose into the crook of your neck, his impossibly long tongue slithering along your skin.

“You taste as good as you smell,” he breathed into your throat. The hot puff of air mingled with the cooling slick of his spit, making goosebumps erupt over your flesh.

Considering he was a man-eating monster, perhaps those words should have frightened you. They didn’t. If anything, they spurred you on, your kisses against his face growing almost feverish.

His clawed hands gripped you by the waist, easily hoisting you onto his lap, your legs splayed across his muscular thighs. Your nails dug into his shoulders as a shocked mewl escaped your lips.

“Leon…” you whispered, urging him on. You felt his length hardening under you, even between the layers of your clothes, making you squirm against him.

An inhuman growl emanated from deep in his chest, the sound possessive and predatory.

“I can hear your heart beating,” he mused, his hands sliding beneath your pajama shirt to feel your skin.

A groan left him at the sensation of your soft, warm flesh under his palms, and then suddenly your world was spinning when he flipped you onto his large bed.

Your head hit the pillows with a quiet, “Oof.”

Before you even came to terms with your new position, Leon was already hovering over you, the look on his face making a thrill run up your spine. He was practically feral, his red eyes—or black, rather, considering the size of his pupils—were wild and oh so hungry.

You could only stare up at him, frozen by his gaze as he pinned your wrists above your head with one hand.

“You’re being awfully compliant for me, sweetheart,” he teased lowly as he trailed a finger down the center of your torso, eliciting a shiver from you. “Where’s that smart mouth now, huh? I’ve barely touched you and you’re already putty in my hands. Not that I’m complaining.”

Your mind tried wading through the haze of awe and lust that drowned out your psyche to find some kind of retort just to shut him up.

It was a wasted effort, however, because Leon dipped towards you and shoved that sinful tongue between your parted lips, his razor sharp teeth pressing against your mouth in a simulacrum of a kiss.

He licked against the insides of your cheeks, dancing along your oral cavity until the tip of that prehensile muscle burrowed into the back of your throat.

You choked at the sensation and he pulled back, panting, his features turning sheepish.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, moving to cradle your face, nuzzling his nose against your temple. “Hard not to get carried away when I’ve finally got you under me like this.”

“S’okay,” you assured him with a smile, your recently freed hands reaching out for him. One skated along his spine while the other played with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I don’t mind it…”

His lean form shuddered beneath your ministrations and he withdrew to look at you, his contrite expression shifting to one of mischief.

“You don’t, huh? Well…”

You gasped when he grabbed the neckline of your pajama shirt and ripped it directly down the middle, exposing your bare chest to his ravenous gaze.

“Fuck…” he rasped, eyes raking over your curves in wonderment.

“Leon!” you huffed out indignantly, “I like these pajamas!”

He snorted at your complaint, smirking as he lowered his hands to cup your breasts gently. “There’s that fire I was waiting for.”

You let out a soft whine as he caressed the sensitive mounds, the noise rising in pitch when he leaned down to flick his tongue across your rapidly hardening nipples.

You tried to be patient and enjoy the moment, your body thrumming with pleasure, but the burning need was too much to bear. “Leon, please… I need more…”

“I think I can manage that,” he replied with a lecherous grin, licking down your body to the apex between your legs.

Similarly to your top, he simply shredded the fabric of your shorts and panties, seemingly losing patience himself.

You scoffed in annoyance as more of your clothes were destroyed, but it was quickly forgotten when he settled between your thick thighs, leveling you with a heated stare that made your breath hitch.

“Don’t worry, bunny,” he purred, “I’ll make it up to you…”

His eyes then dropped to your slit, releasing a ragged breath at the sight. “You smell so fucking good, baby. I have to taste you.”

Before you could formulate a response, he was diving forward, his tongue lapping at your cunt, already slick with your arousal.

You let out a whimper at the feeling, and Leon responded with a satisfied groan, devouring you like a man—or beast, in his case—starved.

That wicked tongue teased your entrance before slowly dipping inside, your hips bucking as his nose rubbed against your clit.

Any normal woman would be terrified to have those sharp teeth so close to her most intimate areas, but something about the risk only heightened your desire.

His hands gripped your thighs to hold them open, claws digging into the flesh there, hard enough to leave indents but not draw blood.

His tongue delved even deeper into your pussy, long enough that the tip made contact with your cervix. He curled it inside of you, laving against your g-spot in a maddening rhythm that had you hurtling towards the edge faster than you could warn him.

Your back arched off the bed, fingers tangling into his blond hair as a loud cry was ripped from your throat.

You tried to catch your breath as your orgasm crested over you, but Leon was relentless, moaning against your cunt as he continued to tongue-fuck you.

“Leon, too much,” you mustered, pushing his forehead away from your heated flesh.

It took him a moment to come back to himself, so lost in the taste of you, but he finally retreated to let you recover.

“Tastes better than any dessert,” he rasped. “I’d live down here if you’d let me.”

“You better start paying rent, then,” you joked, letting out a breathy laugh.

Leon rolled his eyes, moving to sit back on his haunches. “Does giving you as many orgasms as you can handle sound like a fair trade?”

You pretended to think about it. “Take your shirt off and we have a deal.”

He chuckled at that, pulling his t-shirt over his shoulders and tossing it onto the floor. “You drive a hard bargain, but I think I can swing it.”

He crawled back over you and you ran your gaze over his bare torso appreciatively, tentatively lifting a finger to trail along his muscles.

The sensation made him groan softly and he grabbed your wrist, forcing your palm flush against his skin, sliding it down until it pressed against the noticeable bulge in his pants.

“Feel that?” he questioned rhetorically, rubbing your hand over his clothed length. “This is what you do to me, sweetheart. You have no idea how fucking crazy you make me.”

“You could give me an idea…” you murmured, shifting to cup him more firmly.

He growled at your teasing response, pulling your wrist away so he could reach for the button of his pants.

Your lashes fluttered as you watched him undo the zipper, pushing his trousers and boxers down and off of his long legs.

You sucked in a breath at the sight of his rigid length.

“Oh,” you mumbled with wide eyes, “you’re… big.”

He smirked at that, crawling over you once again, his tail whipping behind him in what you assumed must be excitement, which made your heart stutter at the implication.

“Yeah? Can you handle me, baby?” he asked, nuzzling into your breasts as he notched his tip against your entrance. “Tell me right now if you can’t, and I’ll stop.”

You delved your fingers into his hair, tugging slightly so he’d meet your gaze. “I think I can.”

He looked at you with hooded eyes, barely pressing into you so you could feel the slight stretch before pulling back. “You just think you can? You don’t sound very convincing.”

“Leon!” you whined desperately, canting your hips for more contact. “I can handle it. I can. Please.”

Apparently your breathy pleas were enough, because he finally pushed his hips forward, breaching you slowly, the sensation of him splitting you open making you gasp.

“Fuck, bunny,” he grunted, stilling for a moment to appreciate your tight warmth pulsing around him, “you feel even better than I imagined. So much better.”

“You imagined this?” you questioned airily, hooking your legs over his hips.

“Yeah, in excruciating detail,” he responded with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Even jerked off to the thought of you. Not my proudest moment, but it’s the truth.”

You exhaled unevenly at his confession, your inner walls contracting at the thought.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath. “You liked that, huh? Knowing you had me wrapped around your little finger this whole damn time? Now look at you, wrapped around me instead.”

You couldn’t even muster a reply before he started to move, shallow grinding quickly shifting into harsh thrusts that knocked the air from your lungs.

He was beautiful like this; pale skin tinged pink, dark blond hair a halo around his face, his crimson eyes hazy with lust as he stared down at you intently, wanting to witness your every micro-expression.

His movements increased in pace and you let out a needy whine, shutting your eyes as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

But then you felt something slide across your middle, and when your lids shot open, you glanced at your stomach to find Leon’s tail wrapping around your waist.

Before you could comment on it, Leon tightened his tail’s hold on you and lifted you up, the new angle making the volume of your moans louder as he hit deeper inside of you, even as the barbed end lay flush against your torso, the sharp edge threatening to prick your skin.

Your gaze shifted back up to Leon’s face when a splash of something warm and wet hit your sternum, and you realized he was drooling, any human parts of him seeming to vanish, replaced by an animalistic desperation for release.

A growl, not unlike the rumble of a crocodile, emitted from deep in his chest as he lowered his face into the junction of your shoulder and neck.

“Pretty little rabbit, looking good enough to eat,” he muttered darkly against your skin. The words made a chill run up your spine, though more heat pooled within your belly.

Leon snaked a hand up to grasp your cheeks roughly, pushing your face to the side to reveal more of your throat.

“Leon,” you gasped, a sudden panic flooding through you as he dragged his tongue over your pulse point, his razor-like teeth gently scraping the flesh.

“Wanna mark you,” he breathed lowly. 

Despite the fear, your body seemed to enjoy the thrill as it tensed, your orgasm ripping through you unexpectedly and violently.

He whipped his head back to look down at you as you fell apart on his cock, your cry of ecstasy enough to pull him from his primal urges. He groaned deeply as your inner walls spasmed around him, squeezing his length rhythmically.

“Fuck, bunny,” he grunted, digging his claws into your hips as he chased his own bliss. You could feel them prick your skin, the sharp pain only intensifying your pleasure.

His thrusts picked up to a nearly impossible pace, hitting so deep inside of you, you worried he might tear through.

Your eyes rolled into your head as you climaxed for a third time, only managing a silent scream as you gushed around his length.

The sensation proved Leon’s undoing and he threw his head back, cock spasming as his seed flooded your depths, letting out a whimper that seemed to catch in his throat.

After grinding a few moments to extend your mutual pleasure, he finally stilled, looking down at you with a heaving chest.

He traced his eyes over your form and it was like clouds clearing from his vision when he looked down at your hips, instantly releasing them from his grasp.

“Fuck, you’re bleeding,” he murmured, voice rough with exertion and guilt, wiping his palms against the trickles of crimson drying on your flesh. “Are you okay?”

You glanced down, seeing the damage, and chuckled airily. “I’m fine, Leon. I can barely feel it.”

He let out a grunt as he slowly eased out of you, watching his spend trickle from your puffy slit. “Uh… I didn’t pull out. Is that… I mean, I don’t think I can even get you pregnant, but…”

You rolled your eyes, reaching out to tug him closer to you, kissing his cheek affectionately. “I’m on birth control, don’t sweat it.”

He relaxed against you, unraveling his tail from your midsection before laying next to you on the bed, wrapping you up in his arms and pulling you against him.

“I think I lost control for a minute there,” he breathed into your hair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Not exactly how I wanted our first time to be.”

Your heart rate kicked up a notch at his words. “Yeah? And how did you want it to be?”

He was quiet for a moment, gathering his thoughts before he replied, his breath fanning across your temple, “Gentler, for one. And I definitely wanted to take my time with you instead of… well, what just happened. But Christ, you were making it hard to think straight.”

“I would apologize for refusing to leave earlier, but I’m not sorry,” you said with a teasing grin, angling your face to look at him. “Frankly, that was better than anything I’ve ever felt.”

A look of surprise crossed his features before it turned into one of smug satisfaction. “Is that so? I’m the best you’ve ever had? Glad to know that even after ten years, I haven’t lost my edge.”

You snorted at his words. “Well, don’t get me wrong, I’m not some virginal maiden—not by a long shot—but that was intense in a way that’s… I’m not sure. It’s indescribable.”

His expression softened before he nuzzled his nose against yours. “It’s this connection between us, bunny. Whatever this is we have, it’s not easy to come by.”

You smiled almost shyly in response.

“You might have a point there.” Your tone became mischievous after a moment when you added, “But I think the whole monster anatomy thing kinda helped.”

It was his turn to laugh, a deep rumble that bubbled up from his throat as he pulled back from you, throwing his arm over his face.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he questioned fondly, peeking at you from under the crook of his elbow.

You grinned widely. “And don’t you forget it.”

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you as you looked into each other’s eyes, but soon your mind began to run rampant once more after the fog of pleasure finally lifted.

“You said you couldn’t get me pregnant?” you asked him, returning to your usual curious nature.

He let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head in mild exasperation. “I said I don’t think I can. The Plagas asexually reproduce, so as far as I’m aware, my entire reproductive system is affected.”

“If that’s the case, then why did me ovulating set you off so much?”

He paused, considering it with pinched brows. “I… I’m not sure, honestly. I guess that there are enough human instincts left in me that interacted with the parasite’s. Wires got crossed, so to speak.”

“And was it the human or the Plagas part of you that wanted to ‘mark’ me?” your tone was teasing, but you were expecting an honest answer. The thought of him sinking his teeth into you was both a disturbing and enthralling prospect.

A pretty blush spread across his skin as he averted his gaze. “Jesus. I don’t know where that came from. But I’m glad I didn’t. I could have seriously hurt you. Which is exactly why I told you to stay away in the first place.”

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty.” You shrugged, unrepentant. 

“Yours, maybe,” he grumbled under his breath, though he seemed almost relieved that you had dug in your heels and refused to walk away—ever-stubborn and mule-like as you were.

You chuckled softly, eyes raking over his form once again.

“Hm,” you uttered, biting your lower lip pensively. “The Plagas… they’re very insect-like, right?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Why?”

“Well… you won’t, like, keel over like a bee, will you?” you questioned, a note of concern in your voice.

“What?”

“Male bees… They die after… mating.”

Leon looked at you with raised brows, momentarily locked in a stunned silence. “And you didn’t think to mention this before?”

“I just now thought about it!” you replied defensively.

He let out a chuckle, affectionately running his hand over the swell of your soft stomach. “Wouldn’t be the worst way to go.”

You snorted in response, turning to lay your head on his chest, staring down at him. “Oh, yeah? Getting into bed with me is worth the risk of post-coital death?”

He nodded emphatically, a grin on his face. “Definitely. In fact…”

With a sudden movement, he flipped you onto your back, hovering over your supine form once more.

“I say we make the most of our time,” he continued playfully, gripping your hips, “if I’m gonna ‘keel over’, as you put it.”

After letting out a soft gasp at being manhandled again, you let out a bright laugh, your hands roaming over his abdomen.

“Who am I to deny a man his dying wish?” you teased, legs hooking around his waist.

And so you spent the rest of the day wrapped in each other’s arms.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

+++

The next morning, Leon awoke to the weight of your head on his chest, blinking away sleep as memories of the day before flooded his mind.

The way you felt against him, under him, wrapped around him—the noises you made in the throes of passion, the breathy way you begged him for more, and even the soft giggles that escaped you in the quiet moments between…

Christ alive, this was more than he ever thought he’d get. Certainly more than he deserved.

He found himself mindlessly stroking your back, marveling at the silkiness of your bare skin beneath his clawed hand.

He felt a twinge of guilt, however, when his palm swept over the scabbed scratch marks that marred your otherwise smooth flesh. He never wanted to be so rough with you, to make you bleed, but you seemed to have enjoyed it. Encouraged it, even.

You were such an odd little thing; appearing so innocent, and yet the moment he got you in his bed, you were nothing but wanton and pliant. And he never would have guessed someone so strong-willed and independent could be so… submissive. So needy.

If he was obsessed with you before, having his way with you only deepened it.

He could picture it now: the two of you living in domestic bliss, the days spent meandering through the village hand-in-hand, the evenings cozied up on the couch by the fire with you reading him whatever book caught your fancy, the nights enveloped in his sheets and each other’s bodies…

Leon was a hopeless romantic at heart, after all. Not that he’d ever admit it.

However, reality seemed to crash over him when he remembered you were leaving today, and that he planned to never see you again for both your sake and his.

The sting of his realization was sharp, but his resolve couldn’t waver. It was better this way. Safer.

But god, the way you felt here in his arms… he never wanted it to end.

He found himself hugging you against him tightly, pressing his nose to the crown of your head, the smell of your shampoo and your natural scent bringing him a modicum of comfort.

He only spent a measly week in your company. Only got a single day of experiencing the pleasures of your body.

He could almost curse himself for not giving in sooner to his baser instincts so that he could have enjoyed this moment for a little longer. 

It just wasn’t enough time.

If he were honest with himself, though, no time spent with you could ever be enough. But he knew he had to make peace with letting you go.

And he thought he had made peace with it. Right up until you kissed him yesterday and every nerve in his body lit up like a forest fire—equally as sweltering. Equally as devastating.

He was so utterly stupid for letting things go this far. Both selfish and self-sabotaging knowing that he got what he desired at the cost of his own sanity. At the cost of your safety.

He knew it was a mistake, no matter how much he didn’t actually regret it. He should have been stronger. Firmer in telling you to get out and never return.

But the animal inside of him refused to listen. It was always a feat to wrangle the damn thing, especially where you were concerned.

Though perhaps a part of him foolishly convinced himself that he could get you out of his system if he succumbed to his lust. He knew now that was bullshit.

If he was less determined to protect you from himself and the seemingly inevitable death of his humanity, he would keep you here forever—his darkest depths willing him to chain you to his bed so you could never leave.

He wished he didn’t care this damn much, because then it wouldn’t hurt so bad to let you go.

But for your sake, he would do it. He would do anything.

In his mind, you deserved only good things. You deserved happiness.

You deserved someone who wasn’t a monster.

You stirred awake then, smiling at him groggily as you came to, pulling him from his melancholy cogitations.

“Hey,” you murmured, your sleepy voice making his heart swell in his chest. He closed his eyes and let out a contented hum when you reached out, tucking his shaggy blond hair behind his slightly pointed ear.

“Hey,” came his reply, voice gravelly. He could pretend for a moment that the future was a far off thing, that he could just enjoy the feel of your touch a little longer, as if the two of you were suspended in this moment of normalcy. Of happiness.

“How did you sleep?” you asked, your hand dropping to place against his toned chest.

He chuckled at that, rolling his eyes before he nuzzled his nose against your temple. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t want to talk about how I slept…” he murmured, his palm sliding down to rest on your hip, squeezing slightly. “In fact, there’s plenty of other things I’d rather be doing…”

You hummed at that, as if you were considering the implication of his words deeply.

“I’m a little sore…” you started.

He looked down your body at your words, watching the way his claws dug slightly into your flesh.

“If I didn’t have these damn things, I’d be working you up with my fingers right now,” he groused, sliding his claws along your inner thigh so softly, it made you shiver. “And if I didn’t have these teeth, my lips would be all over you…”

“It’s okay, Leon. Really,” you reassured him, grabbing his wrist to make him sweep his fingers across your slit in a barely-there caress, your breath catching slightly. “We have to adjust some things, but the sex is still incredible, I can promise you that.”

He grunted in response, pressing the heel of his palm against your clit with enough pressure to make you writhe. “Still, though… I just wish you could have met me before I became… this.”

“Well, I want you now. As you are,” you replied with an airy voice, gently canting your hips to grind against his hand. “Besides, it’s not like you would even give me a second glance had we met if you were still human. I know what you looked like before, Leon. You could have had anybody.”

He froze at your words, removing his hand from between your legs completely, making you huff softly in frustration.

“You don’t know that, bunny,” he responded, an almost offended glint entering his red eyes.

You let out a humorless laugh. “Sure, I can’t say for certain, but I’m not delusional. In what world would someone like you want someone like me without these extenuating circumstances?”

“That’s not fair,” he shot back defensively.

Your insecurity rearing its head always made his heart clench painfully in his chest. He didn’t know how to make you see what he sees when he looked at you—or how to make you experience the feelings he gets simply by being in your presence.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be a Debbie Downer, Leon… I’m just being realistic. I’m essentially a nobody, and you’re a national hero.” Your tone was dismissive, casual, but the way you avoided his gaze told him just how much you believed that.

His brows pinched together in barely contained vexation.

“Look, maybe you’re right that I’d feel differently if I were still human,” he conceded somewhat. “But I know that in every universe, if I got the chance to know you, I would think you were funny, and sharp, and had a big heart. And that you were beautiful, inside and out.”

He moved his hand up to your face, grabbing it gently and making you look him in the eyes. “Do you have any idea what you do to me, bunny? You drive me fucking insane, in best possible way. I’ve never known anyone like you.”

Your expression softened at his admission, and you offered him a sweet little smile that had his heart skipping a beat before you leaned in to press a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Thanks. I guess it's hard for me to believe that sometimes considering my past, but… I’m glad to know you feel that way. And I can’t even begin to describe how much I like you too. Not despite your mutation, but in tandem with it.”

“Hmf, my sweet little weirdo,” he teased, his eyes crinkling.

“I guess that makes you my big cuddly dork,” you retorted with a playful grin.

“A dork, huh?” he asked, amused. “I think I’m gonna make you eat those words…”

You giggled when he bent down to lap his tongue against your ear, but it soon shifted into a needy whine as he dragged the fleshy muscle along your throat, tasting the salty sweetness of your skin.

Before the two of you could get further, your phone alarm began to blare loudly in his otherwise quiet room, and you both jumped and cursed at the interruption.

When you pulled away from him to grab the device and turn off the alarm, a melancholy expression overtook your lovely face.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Leon questioned, stroking along your side in a soothing motion.

“I… I forgot I have to leave today,” you answered, voice quiet and filled with disappointment.

“Oh,” was all he could muster. Of course, your eventual departure had been hovering in his mind for the last twenty-four hours, but your evident distress about it left him with a bittersweet kind of feeling he wasn’t sure how to place.

You had enjoyed his company so much you forgot how much time had passed, but it was a reminder of just how little of it remained.

As much as it pained him, he knew he had to usher you to go before he lost his resolve completely.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you need to get packed and ready to head out,” he urged softly, sweeping his nose against your pulse point one last time before getting up from the bed.

He didn’t miss the way you watched him stretch out his nude form and slowly slide on his clothes, a smirk on his face, evident even with the massive rows of sharp teeth.

“Bunny…” he warned, turning to face you once he was dressed.

You grumbled, sporting a pout as you yourself began to put on your outfit for the day, Leon appreciating both your adorable expression and the sight of your naked body.

He tried to commit it all to memory, knowing it was the last time he would ever see you like this.

The rest of the morning was spent packing your belongings, Leon helping however he could. 

You decided to leave a bunch of things behind for him, like your bedding and whatever food was in the fridge.

Once your suitcase was parked by the door, Leon walked away briefly, returning to you with a pouch full of coins and jewels.

“Here,” he said, setting it into your hands.

“Leon, I can’t take this,” you replied, looking up at him with wide eyes. “You already paid me, remember?”

He laughed at that, his voice warm. “I don’t need it. So just consider it a bonus for putting up with me for the past week.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “You don’t have to pay me for that.”

A small smile graced his mouth before his eyes landed on Wolfie laying on his bed by the hearth, his expression turning suddenly somber but determined. “Then it’ll be payment for taking Wolfie with you.”

“What?” you questioned, shocked. “He’s yours, Leon. I can’t take him from you!”

“He’s hurt,” Leon responded with a sigh, moving towards the dog so he could kneel next to him and pet him affectionately. “If something happens to him after you leave, if he gets an infection… there’s nothing I’d be able to do. You can take care of him better than I ever could, give him a good life.”

You swallowed thickly at that, biting your lip in thought. “Well… I can just come back like we talked about, and I can get him checked by the vet and get him more dog food and—“

“No, bunny,” he cut you off mid-sentence, bracing for what he was about to say next, “you’re not coming back.”

He couldn't look at you as he awaited your response, his shoulders tense. He hated this. Hated the thought of hurting you, of pushing you away.

It was for your own good, but you would never understand that.

“What are you saying?” you asked, voice wavering. He finally looked at you, seeing the tears already filling your eyes.

“Exactly what I meant. You’re not coming back here,” he replied with a cold, even tone despite the way his stomach was twisting in knots.

You were quiet for a long moment, just staring at him with furrowed brows as you tried to comprehend his words.

“You really still want that? After everything?” He could see your fists clenching at your sides to stop them from trembling, whether from anger or hurt, he wasn’t sure. “I thought we had something special here. I thought you liked me.��

“Bunny—“

Before he could even respond, you were continuing on, the tears starting to spill from your lash line, though you ignored them, “I get that we were scratching an itch, but the sex wasn’t meaningless to me, Leon! I don’t just sleep with anyone!”

He finally stood upright, the urge to reach out and touch you—to comfort you—almost overwhelming. But he refrained.

“I never said it was meaningless,” he argued, voice low. “And it was more than just scratching an itch.”

“Then why are you doing this? Why are you pushing me away?” Your gaze was searching his, hoping for an answer that you might accept, though you both knew nothing he could say would appease you.

“You know why,” he responded, a touch more curt than he meant it.

A deep frown marred your pretty face, lips wobbling as you stood there in silence for a long moment.

Leon had a lot of low points in his life. But this? Knowing that the pain he’d caused would be the last interaction he’d ever share with you? That you were leaving him upset with tears sliding down your cheeks? It would haunt him until the day he planned on taking his own life.

Finally, you sucked in a breath, wiping your eyes and nodding, having made up your mind about something. “Fine. Let’s get Wolfie in the wagon so I can take him to my rental car.”

The sudden shift had Leon feeling off-kilter. He should’ve been satisfied that you were finally agreeing to his request, but the pit forming in his gut was a gnawing, monstrous thing sitting inside of him.

Whatever bond the two of you shared… he knew now that he had severed it completely, and he only had himself to blame.

Despite the discomfort and hurt that bubbled in the air between you, he silently helped you place Wolfie and his things in the large hand-drawn cart, along with your suitcase.

After a cursory glance around, you decided it was time to head out.

“Let me walk you,” he offered, like some final olive branch waving towards you, desperate for your last moments together to not be ones he’d hate himself for.

“No, that’s alright,” you responded flatly.

He flinched at the apathy of it. The resignation.

“Bunny, c’mon, it’s no trouble—”

“I said no, Leon,” you shot back, irritation evident in your tone. “We go our separate ways here. Just… take your time saying goodbye to Wolfie.”

He had truly fucked it all up with you, he realized too late. He never once thought you could give him the cold shoulder like this, especially after everything you experienced together. But he knew he must lie in the bed he made.

He swallowed thickly, his clawed hands shaking slightly as he wrapped his arms around Wolfie’s neck for a final farewell.

The dog lapped gently at the side of Leon’s face, and he noticed as he pulled back the sting in his eyes and the wetness left upon his companion’s fur, emotions of a different kind rushing over him all at once.

He was losing his best friend. The only one who had been beside him, who hadn’t been afraid of him, from the very beginning of his entrapment here at the village.

Wolfie had saved Leon’s life simply by being in it, and now it was all Leon could do to save Wolfie’s by giving him a way out. An escape that Leon could never have himself.

Your expression softened slightly as Leon finally parted from his dog, standing back up to his full height once more.

The two of you looked at each for a long moment, everything and nothing left to say between you, until you finally murmured, “Good luck living on your own, Leon. I hope it’s worth it.”

And with that, he watched you walk out of the door, feeling as though his very soul was leaving with you. The two most important things he ever got to have, gone just like that.

He stood in the same spot for some time, the loneliness he felt before your arrival flowing over him almost immediately, now much worse without Wolfie at his side. So overtaken, he barely registered the tears that now tracked down his cheeks, rolling over the fangs splitting his face apart and onto the ground.

I hope it’s worth it. 

Was it? It had to be, right? This was for you, after all. If he cared less, maybe he wouldn’t have been as adamant about your departure.

You had the whole world open to you, while Leon would always be here, his psyche rotting away like the old wooden boards surrounding him, this house feeling more like a living tomb than a home.

And although he wished you were more careful during your investigations, he would never want to stop you from going on your grand adventures, from experiencing everything you could.

It would be better if he was simply just a blip, an exciting but brief moment in a long and beautiful life that you might look back on fondly—or maybe not at all.

Being with Leon was a stagnation. He would forever be trapped in time, never able to move forward because of what he is. He could have no life outside of this village, and neither could you.

It was a prison sentence to love him. A death sentence, even—both figuratively and literally.

And you�� You were so bright, so good all the way through. You would easily find someone who could appreciate you and all your quirks the way he did, your insecurities be damned. Someone else could give you marriage, and children, and summer nights spent in faraway places if you should wish it.

All he could offer was himself—until the parasite took his mind, that is—and the tattered remains of these bloodsoaked lands.

And yet… something inside of him was fighting letting you go.

The longer he remained in one place, the more this flicker of dissent began to spark into something unruly.

Leon prided himself on his control, both of his body and his emotions. Hell, it was practically beaten into him by Krauser once upon a time, when he was just a young man being trained as an agent.

As this monster, Leon struggled more than ever with that self-control. But it never quite hit the limits the way it did when you were concerned.

And now, more than ever, Leon was fighting tooth and nail not to chase you down and drag you back.

The worst part? He wasn’t sure if it was the monster half or the human half of him that wanted you more.

He had begun to pace, to smack his temples with his fists to quiet the voice inside him that only seemed to grow louder and louder with each passing minute.

You were out of the range of his hearing by now, but he knew you wouldn’t have made it to the car yet with that cumbersome wagon.

If he started now, he could make it to you in time before you truly were gone forever.

“No, no, let her go,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as if to clear it, though it did little to help. “You’re protecting her, you fucking idiot.”

I hope it’s worth it. 

But it wasn’t. The ache inside of him, the memory of your teary eyes, your hardened face hiding your hurt…

The fear that he might lose himself, that he might hurt you, was still a strong one. Ever-present. But what if you were right? What if he was banking his life on a maybe, dooming himself to an eternity alone? Would it truly be so bad to let you stay? To allow himself such a rare and precious chance at happiness?

What if there was another way?

It was so completely, utterly selfish… and yet he made a run for it anyway.

He could barely feel the ground underfoot or the air rushing past his face as he dashed through the woods. It was a journey he had made countless times, but now it was the most crucial of his life. He didn’t think he’d ever made it to this side of the village that fast before.

The old lodge came into view, and he heard the sound of a car starting, his stomach dropping at the thought of not making it in time.

But he persisted, as he always had, in every single thing he did. How could he give up now when losing you forever was the stake?

Instead of going through the building like any sane person would, he utilized his appendages, letting them sprout from his back as he leapt towards the roof, slipping on the rotting tiles as he tried to gain purchase.

He retracted them as his feet touched the shingles, sprinting and launching himself off the roof, landing right in front of your car as you were about to back away.

His eyes were wild and his hair windswept as he stood before you, breathing heavily as your gaze finally met his.

You’re both frozen in place for a long time, just staring at each other—his expression both pleading and intense, whereas yours was one of shock and, if he squinted, perhaps even relief.

You finally shook yourself from whatever thoughts were going through your head and got out of the car, Leon meeting you by the door.

“What are you doing here, Leon?” you asked, appraising him with a wary expression.

“Don’t go,” was all that tumbled from his mouth, no other words sufficient in showing you exactly what he wanted. What he needed.

“But you said—”

“I was wrong, bunny,” he interjected, reaching out to cup your cherubic face in his hands, grateful that you allowed him to instead of backing away like he feared you might. “When it truly hit me that I was losing both you and Wolfie forever, I couldn’t stop from chasing after you, hoping I’d make it in time. And I did.”

He paused, leaning in to press his nose to your temple, the scent of you relaxing him. “I know it’s selfish of me to ask you to stay, and I hope you forgive me for all the bullshit I’ve put you through, but please… don’t leave. I want…” he faltered, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. “I need you.”

When he pulled back, he could see that new tears had formed in your eyes, but you were smiling up at him as if you couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“Are you sure?” came your soft reply, searching his eyes for confirmation—for the permission to let yourself hope that this was real.

“I have never been more sure of anything in my life,” he vowed solemnly. “I don’t know if I believe in god or fate, but I got here in time, and that has to mean something, doesn't it?”

A muted sob escaped your lips, your tears fully streaming down your face, but now it was joy that radiated off of you instead of pain.

You jumped up into his arms, trusting him to catch you, and he did. He always would, for as long as he was able. This promise had been a silent one, though he was no less absolute in his conviction.

“Does this mean you’ll stay?” he questioned as you buried your face into his neck, your tears falling hot and sticky onto his flesh.

You pulled away, sniffling, looking over your shoulder to find Wolfie peeking his head up from the rear window of your rental car, letting out a laugh before you turned back to face the man—the monster—the person—who held you so easily in his arms, his eyes full of both hope and trepidation, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest.

For all the times you had reached out to him, he was finally reaching back. And this time he wouldn't let go.

Your smile was radiant as you leaned in, pressing your forehead against his in lieu of a kiss.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

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

Masterlist | Previous | Next

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

The buffet

Character: Thanos/Choi su bong X fem!reader

Summary: Su-Bong always says he has a "black hole" for a stomach, but you never realized how true that was until you tried to out-eat him at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Warnings: none🦑🦑

The neon lights of the all-you-can-eat buffet blinked above you, casting a warm, inviting glow across the rows of food. You and Su-Bong had decided to indulge in a little friendly competition, to see who could eat more—him, always claiming he had a "black hole" for a stomach, or you, who thought maybe you'd surprise him.

"Are you sure you want to challenge me?" Su-Bong grinned, his wide chest puffing with confidence. "I warned you, I can eat for days."

You rolled your eyes. "We’ll see about that," you teased, grabbing a plate and piling it high with everything from sushi to fried chicken, mashed potatoes to seafood pasta.

He watched you for a moment before doing the same, his plate filling up in a fraction of the time it took you. You could see his competitive streak lighting up. That’s when you realized—he wasn’t just saying he could eat a lot. He really could.

The two of you sat down at a table, plates already half-empty as you dug in. You kept pace, but as time went on, you felt a slight pressure in your stomach, a nagging sense that maybe you’d overdone it just a little. Su-Bong, however, seemed to be going strong, his focus unwavering, like this was the easiest thing in the world.

By the time you finished your second plate, Su-Bong was working on his fourth.

"You're slowing down," he teased, grinning like a smug lion watching its prey. "You’ve got to eat faster if you want to keep up."

You glared at him playfully, but the challenge was on. "Fine. No more playing around."

You grabbed another plate, stacking it high with more food, determined not to let him win. But even as you kept eating, you couldn’t help but notice how much faster he was going. There was no slowing down for him.

The staff behind the counter started eyeing you both, unsure if this was normal. They’d seen some competitive eaters before, but not like this. You could feel the stares. You glanced at Su-Bong, who was practically shoveling food into his mouth without even chewing properly.

"Su-Bong," you said, your voice slightly strained as your stomach began to protest. "Maybe we should—"

"You’re really giving up now?" He raised an eyebrow, his tone playful but challenging. "Not on my watch."

You were about to protest again when one of the waitstaff approached, a concerned expression on her face. "Excuse me, but we’re going to have to ask you to slow down a bit. We’re worried about how much you’ve eaten."

Su-Bong's grin didn’t falter. "What? It’s all-you-can-eat, right?" He waved his hand dismissively, clearly unbothered. "I’ve got a black hole for a stomach. I can handle it."

The staff member hesitated, clearly not convinced. You shot her an apologetic smile. "We’ll try to take it easy… just one more round."

You glanced at Su-Bong, who was still going strong, his eyes locked onto the next plate of food like it was his next conquest. For a moment, you wondered if he really did have a black hole in there. You’d tried, you really had. But it seemed like there was no way you were going to out-eat him today.

Finally, you put your fork down, leaning back in your chair with a heavy sigh. "Okay, okay. You win."

Su-Bong, clearly still hungry, looked over at you with a mischievous grin. "Of course I do. You should’ve known better than to challenge me."

You gave him a playful glare. "Next time, I’ll be more prepared."

"You just better hope there’s no next time," Su-Bong teased. "You wouldn’t want to make me eat even more."

You both laughed, and as the staff started cleaning up around you, you realized maybe a quiet night in with a light dinner would be a better idea next time. But Su-Bong? He would probably still eat the whole kitchen if he could."

At least I’m not alone in this," you muttered, rubbing your stomach.

"Hey, you’re lucky to be in the presence of greatness," he said with a wink. "Besides, you made it interesting."

🦑🦑🦑

[novankenn]

What If...

Pyrrha was also under the sway of Salem Cinder and Pyrrha love each other (Pompeii) Jaune and Emerald are married (Topaz) Jaune and Emerald have a child (Jasmine Esmeralda Arc) Jaune and Emerald are on the run from Salem & Ozpin

Scene : A cheap motel in Argus

==> @cheeseeater2 - What if Nora and Ren find Jaune and Emerald with the kid and let them go if only for the child to be safe. Jaune says even if they hate him forever he loves them and hopes they can be happy one day.

Of all the things Ren and Nora expected after hearing that Jaune had left with Pyrrha during the fall, and then discovering that he and Emerald were on the run from Salem's agents. Finding himself held at gun-point by the man he used to consider a brother, was not one of them.

It had been a stroke of luck, finding out Jaune and Emerald were expecting. It was through idle chit-chat with the other tenants of the apartment building Jaune and Emerald had been living in for the last almost year... before vanishing days before a fire gutted the building. So as they continued their counter operations against Salem's machinations, they kept checking local medical centers and hospitals.

At a stop over in Argus, about a year after the last lead that went cold at the apartment complex. Nora had decided on a whim to check the local hospital, and much to her utter shock she caught site of Emerald leaving with a bundle cradled in her arms. So cautiously she followed the obviously new mother, tracing her back to a rather shabby motel.

A scroll call and Ren was beside her with in twenty minutes. A hint of intimidation and they had the room number. The flimsy wooden door was no obstacle for Nora. She was through it at the first hit of her shoulder. Ren was inside a fraction of a second after Nora burst through the door. The screaming of a startled child, and the yells of a young women, filled the room. But what Ren really focused on was the cold barrel of a rather nasty pistol being pressed against the center of his chest.

"You don't want to do this Jaune." Ren calmly informed his former team leader. "This will just make things worse."

"You right Ren, I don't want to do this, but to protect my wife and my daughter... I will." Jaune replied, his voice measured, and forced like he was fighting the potential of his own emotions surfacing. "Back away Nora."

"Jaune, why?" Nora asked as she stepped back away from the door she had just smashed in.

"I made a mistake." Jaune replied. "Both Em and I did."

"And what do you call this?" Ren asked nodding towards the pistol pressed against his chest.

"Protecting our second chance." Jaune replied. "Em, are you and her okay?"

"We are, she's just a little scared." Emerald answered, as she gently rocked the bundle in her arms. "Shush that's okay sweetie. It's okay, daddy will keep the bad people away from us."

"We're not... bad people." Nora countered.

"Really?" Emerald asked. "You've been trying to find us for years. Chasing us from place to place. Making us uproot, time and time again just so we can have a life away from all the bullshit."

"But..."

"We made mistakes. We were lied to. Led on." Emerald cut Nora off. "We figured it out too late to stop them, so we left."

"And have Ozpin's and Salem's minions dogging us all over Remnant." Jaune added. "We're out. We want to be left in peace. We know nothing, nor do we want to know anything. We're out."

"Jaune, you know..."

"Who says it can't be that way? Ozpin? Salem?" Jaune countered. "Fuck them and their little war!"

"Jaune, language!' Emerald hissed as she continued to placate the fussy infant.

"I'm sorry, but the point remains. We're out. We just want to make a life, for us and our daughter. A quiet life." Jaune expanded upon his original statement. "Both of you away from the door."

"Jaune, this isn't the right way. Come back with us? Ozpin can..."

"Ozpin is a failure." Jaune rebutted. "If he had any brains or sense he would have at least had an idea that Salem was trying something after the breach."

"None of us..."

"No, we didn't." Jaune agreed, "But we we're students, why would we have? The ones in power should have been protecting us. Like I will Em and Jas."

"Jas?" Nora asked as she moved as far from the door, as she could without getting any closer to Emerald or the infant. "Is that her name? Jas?"

"Jasmine Esmeralda Arc." Emerald informed the group. "She's named after our mothers."

Jasmine started to fuss more.

"Is she..."

"She's hungry." Emerald answered as she adjusted how she was holding Jasmine while lifting the left side of her shirt to feed her bundle of joy.

"I'm sorry it came to this." Jaune commented as he moved himself to be standing between Emerald and the now sitting Nora and Ren, his pistol still trained on Ren. "I never wanted to hurt you, either of you. You mean too much to me, but..."

"Jasmine and Emerald mean more." Nora finished his statement. "I can understand that."

"Are you truly happy Jaune?" Ren asked, keeping his hands flat on his lap, in clear view. "I mean really happy?"

"I am." Jaune replied. "I... we made our mistakes, but Jas is the best of both of us, and she deserves a future."

"A future you're willing to kill to protect?" Ren asked.

"You need to understand, Ren. I don't want to, but I will. To protect Em and Jas, I will put down anyone that comes after us."

"What are you going to do now?" Nora asked, trying to lean just enough to see Emerald and her baby.

"Same as we always do when you two or Cinder and Pyrrha get too close. We'll leave, and find somewhere new."

"That's not much of a life." Ren commented. "Always on the run. Is that fair to Jasmine? To Emerald? To you?"

"If I could change it. If I could fix it, I would... but there's fat chance of that happening, isn't there."

"Can I... can I hold her?" Nora tentatively asked. "I won't do anything, I swear, I just... I just feel this need..."

"I don't..."

"It's okay Jaune." Emerald cut him off. "I trust her enough not to hurt Jas. She's not the type."

Emerald stood, up after burping Jasmine, and slowly approached, keeping out of Jaune's line of fire. She loved him, wholly, and she understood is consuming drive and need to keep her and their daughter safe. She had the same compulsion.

"Watch her head." Emerald softly instructed Nora as she lay the precious bundle of joy. Jaune and her little miracle into Nora's arms.

"She's so small." Nora whispered, a sad smile on her face. "She's so small."

"Jaune, put it away." Emerald smiled at him as she crouched next to Nora who was completely enamored with little Jasmine.

Jaune hesitated for a fraction of a moment and then reached up and pushed the pistol back up into his sleeve. Ren heard the click of the mechanism resetting.

"Ren," Nora softly spoke. "We can't keep chasing them. We need to help them."

"Nora?"

"She's so small, and innocent. She shouldn't have to suffer for Jaune and Emerald's mistakes." Nora commented her eyes never leaving the beautiful if but slightly chubby face. "This is a fresh start for them... and us."

"Us?" Ren asked.

"I hate what Pyrrha did. How she used us all. How she broke our trust... but I want to help protect this little one. I want to do that more than chasing Jaune or Emerald." Nora made a kissy face as Emerald smiled. "Everything we're doing is about the future right? Protecting it?"

"I guess." Ren responded.

"Then let's help them. Let's let this little one have the family the Grimm robbed us of..." Nora's eyes started to tear up, emotions she thought long gone washing over her.

"It's okay, Nora." Emerald comforted her one time enemy. "It's okay."

"There might be a way." Ren sighed as he spoke. "Because to be honest I'm tired of chasing you Jaune."

"If it's any consolation, we're tired of being chased by you." Jaune gave his former teammate a soft smile.

"Would you stay in Vale, if we could get you in without anyone knowing? If we could help you get settled? Would you stay?"

Jaune looked to Emerald who was still hovering over Nora, rubbing her back in gentle circles as Nora tried to get control of her emotions. Emerald gave Jaune a smile and a nod.

"I would, if we can be safe. Unmolested?"

"Only Nora and I would know. Not even Ozpin will be any the wiser."

"Tell me why?" Jaune point blank asked.

"I want my family back together, despite the mistakes we've all made." Ren replied. "You're our family Jaune, and we miss you."

"I miss you as well." Jaune responded.

"So, can you really help us? Keep us secret and safe?" Emerald asked as Nora, at Emerald's urging, transferred Jasmine back into her arms.

"We can." Ren replied.

"No," Nora spoke her voice breaking slightly. "We will."

Jaune swallowed hard, and moved forward, his arms spread accepting Nora and Ren into a hug that had been forever in the making. A familial embrace they had all missed.

[crusty-chronicles]

The Moon and Sun (Big Sib reader x Gon/Killua)

Ch 17: Countdown part 2

Synopsis: Welcome back ladies and gentlemen. Shall we continue where we left off?

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

You stood in the center of a clearing, waiting for the slightest hint of movement. All of your five senses tuned in to your environment. The smallest change of even the direction of the wind would be enough to tip you off.

A boost off of the grass.

You blocked a punch with your right arm. The small assassin stared with wide eyes. A curse of ‘Damn’ leaving him before you gripped him by the shirt and flung him in the other direction. He didn't have a chance to orient himself properly. His back colliding with a tree, effectively snapping it in half from how hard you threw him.

“Fast, but still not fast enough!” You called out.

You redirected your attention at a disturbance in the debris. From the dust kicked up came the boy in green. He made a dash forward, preparing to strike you. In what must've been the last second, he changed his attack. He jumped back on his hands and kicked as hard as he could towards your stomach.

“You won't get very far with cheap tricks.” You scolded before grabbing his ankle. 

He tried to use his other leg to swing, but you stopped it easily. Using the new leverage, you spun in a circle to gain momentum before sending him flying upwards.

He gave a cry of surprise that quickly became annoyance. You were just tossing them around like footballs. Effortlessly.

From behind you Killua rebounded. Instead of attacking, he used his Echo Rhythm in the hopes it would disorient you. Doing laps around you as fast as he could. Yet somehow your eyes managed to linger on the real him.

If there's no opening, make one! Right????

There was a shout from above that startled you. Less than a fraction of a second you'd looked away. But it was enough. He lunged forward.

In the split second you glanced up, you saw Gon punch upward. A shockwave sending him straight for you. He used his physical strength to propel himself down. 

They were coming in from both sides. There was no way you'd be able to avoid them both. Just when they were about to touch you, you vanished. Both of them looking at the blank space with surprise that quickly turned into panic. They were about to collide with each other. Killua twisted his body to the left. Gon to the right. Blows barely skirting around the other.

They recovered from the confusion and stood back to back. Waiting anxiously for any sign of you. A shadow from the corner of their eye. But it was too late. A sharp pain resonating on the sides of their skulls. 

You had slammed their heads together. You gave a slight wince seeing them fall over and cradle the spot that hurt. A beeping from your pocket signaled that today's session was over.

“Alright. Five minutes is up.” 

They gave sounds of protests as they sat up.

“We almost had you that time!” Gon exclaimed. He saw you this time. His reaction time was just slow.

“Yeah, let's go again! I didn't even have time to break a sweat!” Killua agreed.

Pure determination in their eyes. They were getting better, but another round would probably drain them. They'd be out of commission for a week.

“You two know the rules. One match a day. Then it's sensory training. Then it's meditation.”

“We know, we know. It's hearing today right?” Killua complained.

“Sulk all you want but it's a helpful skill. I picked up on your first attack because of it.” You responded.

He stuck his tongue out at you.

“Okay Dumbo. And did you really have to throw me that hard?”

Truthfully, you didn't mean to use that much force. It was a knee jerk response-and a very light one at that.

“You think that's hard? I could've sent you at least 35 meters easy. Hell, I almost sent Gon into orbit.”

“Yeah but he didn't get tossed through a tree.”

“I'd rather be tossed through a tree than stuck all the way up there,” Gon argued.

“Let's test it out then!”

“You're on! I'm gonna send you flying!”

“You wish!”

You tried to hide a smile as they bickered. It was two weeks ago when you first started their training.

You took baby steps with the boys. Starting off with something they were familiar with: speed training. The plan was to build up their physical strength before moving onto aura. Well, Killua would be improving his nen. Gon would just have to adapt once Knuckle’s APR expired.

It took them five days to master speed training. Both of them being quick enough to dodge every pebble you flicked their way. It improved their stamina drastically. Actual speed, not so much. If you just had the time, you would've been able to teach them properly. Right now you were skipping a few steps. But if you knew anything about these boys, it was that they were quick learners.

You were combining lessons three and four of your clan's methods. Sensory training was meant to enhance sight, smell, hearing, touch, and taste. The five senses. Everyday, one sense would be taken away. The other four would be used to figure out the scenario. It makes the individual more perceptive to their surroundings. A slight change could be picked out easily. Today the boys’ hearing would be taken away.

Combat training was meant to gain experience. There were two stages to this lesson: physical strength and nen strength. However, no matter which stage the student was in, they had to challenge someone undoubtedly stronger than them and fight them full force. Just until they became the same level as their teacher, or close enough to them. The boys were currently on the first stage.

Usually to advance, they would actually have to land one direct hit on you. But since you were pressed for time, you had to alter the condition.

“If you can get me to use my nen within five minutes, we'll move onto the next level.” You informed.

“What's the next level?” Gon asked.

“Actually fighting with your abilities against mine. Gon, you should be able to keep up. If anything, you'll probably end up getting stronger than me.” you explained.

It really was a blessing in disguise Knuckle took away his nen. His physical strength would increase leagues than what it was. If he could keep up with you at your best, for sure he'd beat you if nen was involved. 

“Really!?!” He beamed up at you with excitement.

“No fair.” Killua pouted.

“It's nothing personal. We need to stick to your strengths,” you reassured the small assassin.

“You're more calculated in fights. You like to analyze your enemy's moves. You know when you're outclassed and tend to flee if it's more favorable. Despite your upbringing, nen combat is what you excel at. It's easier for you to control and predict. 

“Gon's the opposite. Physical combat comes easier to him. His impulsive movements make for great offense. He charges right in, leading to the best surprise attacks. More or less, in a fight you'd be even. You'd probably outclass me in speed depending on how you applied your ability.”

“Faster and stronger than you? In just a month?” Killua questioned.

“In less than a year if we had the time. In a month, you might come close to overtaking me. In your respective categories that is. To fully max out on the categories you're weakest, it would take another six months.”

“What about seeing auras? Would either of us become as good as you at that?” Gon asked.

“You could probably do it now. That's baby stuff.”

“Hey!” The duo said in unison. Both equally as offended.

“Right, my bad. I mean it'll be easy. It's one of the first things I was taught…Then again, my eyes are pretty special. Who knows?”

Yup. 

The boys still had quite a way to go. 

—--------------------

Nights had become the hardest part of your routine. Everytime you closed your eyes you'd see him. You'd see her. If it was a particularly rough night, you'd see them. You haven't had this problem since Greed Island. The sleepless nights plagued by the worst your mind could come up with.

You used to stay up for days on end. Hoping when you finally closed your eyes, they'd stay shut. But you didn't exactly have the luxury of exhausting yourself right now. You couldn't afford to waste your energy. You had to be in top condition when the time came to face the ants. 

The boys were experiencing a similar problem. Whether it was the stress of the situation or the pressure to get stronger, they were unable to sleep through the night. Often they'd wander into your room (where you sat on your bed, already awake thanks to tonight’s terror) and sit right next to you. It quickly became a habit.

Wait for the sun to come up, train, then take a nap out of pure exhaustion. The night would drag on while you waited for the next day to arrive. It wasn't healthy. However, tensions were too high to do anything else.

You had an idea though, of how to fix the problem.

“You've both earned a break,” you announced.

Both boys eyed you suspiciously.

“A break? Like right now?” Killua questioned.

You gave a nod.

“I don't think we can risk taking a break. We have to keep training. We need to get stronger.” Gon persisted. 

You understood where he was coming from. But the harder he pushed himself, the less focused he'd be. It was only a matter of time before mental fatigue kicked in. 

“You are getting stronger, but if you focus all your time training, you'll be exhausted when it's time to fight.” you explained.

“I know you want to keep going, but rest is important. You need to be in top shape both mentally and physically.”

The duo sat in quiet for a moment. Weighing the pros and cons of your offer. They looked to each other and nodded.

“Okay. What did you have in mind?”

—----------------------

The sand was warm under your feet. 

You don't think you've ever been to the beach before. It was…nice. The air was saltier than you were expecting. And despite the sun beating down on you, it felt decently cool. There were more people than you were expecting, but you supposed you could tune them out.

You used to envy normal kids when you were little. Childhoods filled with amusement parks, aquariums, beaches, carnivals. An oblivious innocence to everything around them. You used to yearn for a piece of that normalcy. But the clan always came first.

Now you were actually here. 

And there was nobody to stop you from enjoying it. 

“Alright. Go, uh, go beach.” You ushered the boys forward.

“Go beach? You're like an alien who's never been to earth.” Killua teased.

“Hey!”

It wasn't your fault you didn't know what to do. Something something sand? Swimming? You'd figure it out. What mattered was that you were here to relax.

“Come on. Let's go before they figure out how to ‘beach.’” Gon laughed out, quickly pulling Killua away.

“Rats!!! You're both little rats!” You shouted after them.

They made a break for the water. Loading up the squirt guns they brought and splashing each other. You donned a pair of sunglasses and sat back. As long as they didn't drown each other. The little goblins. Maybe you could finally take a decent nap while they fooled around.

From where you sat, they actually looked like kids. They looked their age. It made you smile seeing how carefree they were. The stress of training long forgotten. And when Killua put Gon in a headlock for spraying his face, you had to stifle a laugh. You could sense nothing but content from the both of them.

You wished it could've been like this all the time. Maybe it would if things turned out okay.

“Kids are such a handful.”

You jumped at the sound of a voice next to you. It's what you get for letting your guard down, you supposed. You looked up and saw a woman in her thirties if you had to guess. She stared towards the ocean fondly. 

A mother.

It wouldn't hurt to engage in conversation. You were here to relax after all.

“No kidding,” you responded.

You held back a grimace seeing Gon break free from Killua and body slam him into the water. 

“Are those your boys?” The woman questioned.

You hesitated to answer. Technically, they weren't. Not by blood, at least. But did you consider them yours? Without a doubt they were one of your own.

“Yeah, those are mine.”

“Really? They don't look like you. Adopted?”

“Kind of. I'm a temporary caretaker.” And before she could ask what you meant by that, you quickly changed the subject.

“Which one's yours?”

She pointed slightly to the left. 

“The little girl with the sunhat.”

Sure enough, there was a kid hanging into a dolphin floaty. Laughing along with another small girl. They looked peaceful, unlike your two demons who were currently wrestling. The contrast was almost enough to make you laugh.

“I heard that girls were easier. Is that true?” You asked.

The woman gave a small hum in thought.

“I personally don't think there's a difference. I mean, we raise them and love them the same,” she started.

“They're both stressful as babies and toddlers. They both end up becoming moody teenagers. Sometimes they get upset because they don't understand the decisions you make. Sometimes they don't even know what they're feeling and lash out…Boy or girl, parenting isn't easy. It's full of struggles no matter what.”

You don't know why, but her words made you feel relieved. Maybe a part of you was worried you were doing something wrong. That you weren't fit to take care of the boys. Maybe it was nice to hear your emotions were valid and normal. 

“That's good to know.” You said after a while.

The woman smiled kindly at you. Heat rising to your cheeks at the small gesture.

“Enjoy all the precious moments while they're little. They'll be grown up before you know it.”

You were completely unaware the boys had stopped their roughhousing. Glancing towards you to give you a wave before they noticed you were already with someone.

A woman who was way too close for comfort.

Gon sent a small glare her way. He didn't like the way that woman was so friendly with you. He certainly didn't like the way she was touching your arm. Why were you letting her? He'd never known you to be social. So willing to engage in conversation with a stranger. What could the two of you possibly be talking about?

“Gon?”

He snapped from his thoughts at the call of his name. He looked towards Killua who seemed equally as uncomfortable.

“I don't like this. She's being way too touchy,” he responded.

And you were being way too reciprocal.

“Right? I mean I don't mind if Y/n makes a friend, but that's not friendly. She's too close. She's practically leaning on them,” Killua agreed.

Normally they weren't so protective of you. But something had changed. Seeing their friend being used as a chimera weapon had done it. A combination of not wanting to get involved with more people and defending his honor.

You weren't supposed to be with her. You were supposed to be with Kite.

The question now was: how were they gonna get your attention?

—--------------------------

You'd heard the frantic splashing of water first. Followed by your name. You stopped mid conversation and used your eyes to scan around. Yet before you could fully analyze what was going on, there was another cry of your name.

“Y/n! Help! Gon's drowning!”

You were in front of the duo in an instant. Using nen on your feet to stay above the water’s surface. Without wasting a second, you plunged your arm into the water and lifted Gon up. You expected him to be sputtering out water. Gasping for air. Struggling to breathe. Instead he stared back at you in bewilderment. Then excitement.

“You can walk on water!?!?”

It took you a second to process what was happening. Looking back and forth between him and Killua. The latter staring at you with equal shock.

No panic from either of them.

They duped you.

You promptly dropped Gon back into the water. Crouching down right after and grabbing the both of them by their cheek.

“How dare you! What possible reason could you have for scaring me?!?! You shouldn't play around like that!!!”

They both mumbled out a ‘sorry big sib.’

“Sorry’s not good enough! Explain yourselves!”

It was Killua who broke first this time.

“Why were you letting that lady flirt with you?!? I thought you were a boy kisser.”

All your frustration vanished. You were left baffled and flustered instead. The term ‘boy kisser’ completely catching you off guard. You were getting too old for this.

“Shut up! You're a boy kisser. You like boys.”

It wasn't something you'd said out of seriousness. Just a way to get the boys to leave you alone. Yet the moment the words left your mouth, Killua's face went red.

“Nuh uh!” He waggled a finger in your face, trying to play his reaction off. He shouldn't have said anything because he knew that you knew. You could see him, even if you weren't trying.

The deceit in his aura.

Oh.

Oh.

You didn't really know how to handle this. If you should even address it. Yet, you were already talking before your mind could catch up.

“Aw, sweetie. It's okay if you like boys.”

You realized you were digging your own grave as a choked sound left him. He looked between you and the boy in green, trying to gauge his reaction. 

“Or girls! That works to! Or both! Both is an option too. Maybe neither?” you cringed with each word that left your mouth.

You were making things worse judging by how the small assassin hid behind his hands. There was gratitude in there, but it was mostly drowned out by embarrassment. Before you could open your mouth again, Gon spoke up.

“I don't think it matters. Like who you like, that doesn't change anything between us.” He flashed Killua a reassuring grin.

Atta boy.

“Oh look sand! We should go over there.” you quickly changed the subject. More for Killua's sake than yours.

The duo waded towards the shore with you walking next to them. It was quiet for a bit. And then-

“So are you a girl kisser?”

“I was not flirting with that woman!”

—--------------------------

Now this was what you were picturing when you offered to go to the beach. Sandcastles. Except much less chaotic. Did you know the sand had to be wet before building? No, no you did not. Did you think the structure would crumble if you poured a bucket of water over it? Also no. 

Why was this so hard?

You let out a noise of frustration, attracting the attention of the boy in green. He offered to help you out, and because you had absolutely no idea what you were doing, you accepted. His strategy was similar to yours, except he actually wet the sand before building with it. 

You did your best to sculpt the sand in a point. Hoping to give it that castle feel. Not even a second later the top collapsed in. You slapped a hand to your forehead.

“Yup. I'm cursed,” you muttered. Prompting a laugh from the boy next to you.

At least he was having fun.

You looked over to your right. There was a kid no older than five putting sand in a bucket. Only to dump it back out in a perfect castle shape. Then they'd used a little metal tool to make windows. 

“That kid's cheating!” You pointed out. 

Gon followed your line of sight. He tried to hide his amusement at what had you so upset.

“Right. I forgot they made tools for the sand. Maybe next time. But hey, ours isn't too bad.”

You redirected your attention to what looked like a mound of dirt with indents. Despite being a complete failure, a part of you swelled with pride. You made that. And there would be time to improve later anyways.

“What is that? A mud hut?” Killua teased.

You were about to give a rebuttal, but it died in your throat seeing what was behind him. An actual castle with so much detail, it left you speechless. Even the little bricks were etched into the sand. And was that a moat!?!? The kid had talent, you'd give him that.

“How the heck did you do that?” You gestured to the castle behind him.

He beamed up at you before manipulating his hand to be razor sharp.

“I used my nails. Pretty cool, right?”

Pretty cool? It was spectacular. You didn't even think most adults could make something that detailed.

“Anyways, what went wrong with yours? Did you two even try?” He joked.

You feigned a glare at his words.

“Not all of us can change our hands at will. And you know what? You're not invited to the mud hut. Isn't that right munchkin?”

“Yup. In fact, we're raging war against your castle.” Gon played along, lifting up his water gun and aiming it towards the detailed structure.

Killua quickly stood in front of his castle. Using his body to shield it from any potential harm.

“You better not! It took me ten minutes to make!”

Okay, bragger much.

“Can't we just have a truce or something?” He tried to sway.

You pretended to give it some thought.

“50 percent of all your gold imports and we have a deal.”

“50 percent? My people will starve!”

Gon gave a warning shot, slightly missing the castle.

“Okay! Okay! We have a deal!”

You gave a small nod, telling Gon to stand down. The two of you watched as Killua started to build a little bridge. It took him no time at all to connect the structures, standing up right after and dusting himself off.

“There. We're allies.”

The difference between the two castles was almost enough to make you laugh. The mud hut standing strong against the palace. You were about to open your mouth to say something, but you quickly shut it seeing Gon light up at something in the distance.

“You two wait right here! I'll be right back!” He called out before running off.

He came back carrying something big over his head. Something that had…flippers????

“Is that a fricken turtle!?!? Put him back right now!” You scolded once you saw what it was.

He placed it down in front of you and Killua, holding it back by its shell. 

“Are you scared?” He teased.

“It's a turtle why would I be-”

The turtle lunged its neck forward. Jaws open in an attempt to bite you.

“He just snapped at me!”

Gon leaned down to stare it in the eye.

“No! Bad turtle!”

Said creature hung its head down low. As if ashamed. Hunters and their damned animals. Of course it would play nice with him. Then again, you never were good with animals.

“Don't reprimand him! Just set him free!” you ordered.

“He probably senses your hostility. Maybe if you were nice to him he wouldn't wanna bite you.” Killua observed, though there was a mischievous glint in his eye that let you know he was messing with you.

“Senses my butt. That thing is just out for blood.” You huffed out. 

Gon lifted up the turtle one more, holding it up right as he started talking.

“This guy is a leather back. And you see it's tail? Super short, right? Well that means it's actually a girl. She probably came to lay her eggs on shore.” 

This was the most excited you've seen him in weeks. He was in his complete element when it came to nature. Most likely due to his upbringing. You supposed you could deal with this animal hating you, as long as he was happy. 

“Let's put her down and see where she goes.” Killua suggested.

Gon set the turtle down and let it go. She shuffled back next to him for a second, surveying the beach for any threats. Then little by little she made her way forward. It took her about ten minutes to reach the spot she wanted. Using her back flippers to dig a sizeable hole in the sand. She stilled when she was done, presumably laying her eggs. Finally, she kicked the sand back in place and made her way back to the ocean.

But not before throwing a hiss your way as she passed you.

The boys stared in awe. You, not so much. 

“I think we just witnessed a birth. Is that like, legally binding?” Killua asked.

You bonked the back of his head.

“Gremlin. Alright, let's give the little lady her space.” You ushered the boys away from her nest.

A few hours later, you found yourself being buried in the sand. A form of retaliation after you forbid the boys from going back in the water, not yet over the drowning prank they pulled. Plus, they'd gotten bored finding shells and giving them to you. All of which were currently in your pocket. You prayed they didn't crack under the pressure. 

Your poor sunglasses were tossed to the side. By now your legs were completely covered. They wanted to move onto your torso. Pestering you to lay down so they could continue piling sand on.

“Just lay back.” Killua pushed you back lightly.

“No. You're gonna toss sand in my eyes. Those are my money makers.” You argued.

“We won't. I'll cover your eyes with my hand if that'll make you feel better,” Gon offered.

You were on the cusp of giving in before a beeping filled the air. All at once, the smiles left the boys’ faces. It was time. Somehow it’d slipped their minds. They'd gotten so caught up spending time with you that they forgot. 

It was as if the life had been sucked out of them. Reality once again crashing down. It was nice to just be kids for a moment. To have a simple life. But they had a responsibility to fulfill. You had a responsibility. 

They avoided your gaze as you got ready to leave. Truly, they tried to talk you out of it the first week. They didn't like you going over there and coming back injured. And they certainly never hid the way they felt about it. But you were nothing if not true to your word. And they knew that.

“I'm sorry. I'll be home soon okay. If you want-” you started but were quickly cut off.

“We'll be fine. Don't worry about us.” Killua dismissed.

“Go do what you have to do.” Gon added.

You sent them an apologetic look before you left.

—-------------------

You stood in front of the metal door anxiously. It felt reminiscent of your first time seeing it. You didn't know why you were so nervous. You've been coming here everyday to see him. Maybe a part of you was scared something changed. For better or for worse.

You unlocked the door and pushed it open. With bated breath, you took a step forward. You could feel the agony and malice return. A sickly feeling you became familiar with. It meant nothing had changed. Your routine would continue on to the next day. 

You approached ‘Kite' slowly. Right before you entered his attack radius, you sat down. You promised the boys you wouldn't let him hit you anymore. Not since he'd broken your arm. 

“I'd say having my leg broken was worse than my arm. Couldn't run for shit,” you said aloud.

You figured if he couldn't kick your ass everyday, the least you could do was stay and talk. You didn't want to leave him by himself. Even if he couldn't hear or sense you. You had no clue if you were helping him by doing this. If subconsciously he was listening. 

You hoped he was.

That you were a useful distraction to the torment he was currently going through.

“We went to the beach today,” you started.

“The little ghouls pretended they were drowning because they thought some lady was flirting with me. Why that bothered them, I couldn't tell you. It pissed me off though. I made sure they weren't allowed near the water again.”

By now ‘Kite' was at the edge of his radius. Standing in front of you with jerky movements. Try as you might, your nen couldn't suppress the movement. 

“We made sandcastles though. Or at least, Killua made one. The kid's crazy talented. He made little windows and everything. Me and Gon? Not so much. It looked like something a toddler would do. And you know what? I was very proud of it. Never messed around with sand before. It was nice. I also met a turtle today. She was super mean though. I mean I can't blame her. She just wanted to lay her eggs.

“I got gifted some nice shells. I think I'm gonna keep them in a box for safe keeping. Maybe turn a few of them into a necklace. We'll see when this is all over.”

You stared up at him looming over you. Strangely, you weren't threatened. It was almost comforting.

“They looked…so sad when I had to go. I think they genuinely forgot about it. About everything. That's supposed to be good, right? Why doesn't it feel that way? Why did it feel like I made things worse?”

You wrapped your arms around your knees and rested your head on them. 

“I don't know what I'm doing with them. I don't know what I'm doing with myself. It always looked so easy when I was growing up. The adults making all the decisions. Like they had everything figured out. Maybe they did. Maybe I'm what's wrong. Wouldn't be the first time.”

You let out a drained sigh. Looking up from your arms and searching for his eyes.

“Every decision I make feels like the wrong one. Some days I just want to give up. Run away like I always do. But I can't…I don't want to. I want to be strong. I want to be enough. But right now, I don't know what to do. I haven't for quite some time. I just don't want the boys to end up like me.”

You didn't want to push them too far.

You sat there for a moment. Letting the silence be your comfort. You'd usually ask how his day was, even if you knew he wouldn't respond. Yet you couldn't find it in you to keep talking. You'd sit here until time ran out. Then do your best to put yourself back together before you went home. 

You got in a crouching position. A shuffling sound making you go on full alert. You directed your attention towards the noise, focusing your eyes on the dark corner.

An aura. An empathetic aura.

“Who's there?” You called out.

A rookie mistake. If you sensed something, go on the offense. Take the element of surprise. Had you been so off your game that you forgot one of your most basic principles?

“No need to get so defensive. It's just me.” From the shadows emerged Morel.

Was he wiping away a tear?

“What are you doing here?” You asked. You were standing up by now, your back to Kite.

Never turn your back on an enemy. 

You didn't perceive Kite as an enemy, Morel noted. Confidence in your own abilities perhaps? Or was it something else entirely? Something soft judging by the tone you used talking to him.

“It's my turn to watch Kite. Usually Knuckle and Shoot know when you're coming to give you your space. I thought you'd be another hour.” He answered.

He could see the tension leave your shoulders. You were protective over Kite. No. You were protective of the vulnerability you shared with him. His eyes only. Like that smile you gave him.

Knuckle and Shoot were scared of you?

You were more bark than bite. He couldn't sense any hostility from you despite your guarded exterior. That didn't mean you would back down if push came to shove. 

“You were watching me,” you said after a while. 

It didn't sit right with you that he could've revealed himself at any time and chose not to. Yet you couldn't sense any ill intent from him. So why just stand there until you were finished?

“I didn't mean to. You just looked like you needed to let that out. Call it a hunch.”

Hunters and their damned instincts. A part of you upset that he wasn't wrong.

“You two are lovers?” He gestured between you and Kite.

Immediately your face flushed. You tried to sputter your way through a response. Glaring when you heard him start laughing.

“Guess not then. You just seemed to care a lot about him.”

The atmosphere had lightened. Your defensiveness being chipped away the longer you talked. A gut feeling telling you to let down your guard completely. But you weren't ready for that quite yet. Your trust had to be earned.

“We're friends. Plain and simple,” you finally got out. Only for your face to burn impossibly hotter with his next choice of words.

“But you have feelings for him?”

The heat spread to the tips of your ears. 

“Why is everybody interested in my love life?” You mumbled before answering. Why were you answering?

“Yes, I like him. And maybe he feels the same way, or felt the same way. Doesn't really change anything currently, does it?”

You looked up at him, watching as he tried to stifle laughter. The same way you did when the boys would get into petty arguments.

“Dickhead! Don't laugh at me!”

You realized then that you were closer to him. Since when had you moved forward?

“Okay, okay. How about a simpler question? Do the boys get along with him?” 

It took you a second to answer. Trying to collect your thoughts after they'd been scattered.

“Are you kidding me? Gon absolutely adores him. The happiest I've seen him is when he's talking with Kite. They really bonded over Gon's father. Personally, I think the guy's a dick, but hey, it's something…It's sweet in a way, how much he looks up to him.” You stopped talking when you realized you were rambling.

You briefly glanced over at Morel. He was looking at you expectantly. Waiting for you to continue on. Not at all bothered that you strayed from the topic.

It was oddly reassuring.

“Killua didn't really like him at first. I guess he wanted Kite to earn his approval. Usually if Gon trusts someone, Killua will as well. Not this time though. He did eventually come around. I think seeing Kite help me out so much put him at ease. But my God, the teasing from both of them. Literal torture. I wanted to pass away and have my spirit evaporate.”

You covered your face with your hands once more. Doing your absolute best not to relive those moments and block out the embarrassment. Completely missing the way Morel's features had softened.

If it hadn't been clear before, it sure as hell was now. The three of you were close. Inseparable even, judging by how things played out the last time they were here.

“You really love those boys, don't you?” He asked, though he already knew the answer.

You uncovered your face with your hands. Your expression was more serious this time. More somber. 

“... They're my family. I'd do just about anything for them.” 

You were very different than the person he first perceived you to be. You were strong, despite running away from a fight. It made sense in context now given your response. You'd protect those boys at any costs. Even if it meant leaving someone behind.

Even if it meant losing your life.

You also had more guts than most pro hunters. Cussing out the chairman, and then scolding a group of hunters for the situation the boys were in. Then there was the fact you scared the crap out of his students. One look was all it took. You were a fiery one for sure.

Most importantly, you'd made a promise and stuck to it. You were here everyday. You would spend about an hour here with Kite. Although you stopped letting him hit you, you still found a way to be near him. He had no doubt you'd eventually find a way to fix him. 

“To be honest, I thought you were a coward when I first saw you,” Morel admitted.

“A broken body barely alive after fleeing from a battle. Not even trying to fight before you already made up your decision. It goes against everything hunters stand for. But…”

He paused and flashed what looked like an amused smile.

“Those boys are deathly protective of you. Killua chewed me out for calling you a loser. He valued defending your honor more than protecting his pride. If looks could kill, he'd have vaporized me and Knov on the spot.”

He was hoping to get a positive reaction out of you from that. But you only looked down and clenched your fists tightly. Yet it wasn't anger that radiated off you. It was guilt.

“You weren't wrong about me. I am a coward. I ran away because I was scared. I was…”

You didn't know how much you wanted to reveal. If you should reveal anything at all. You looked up to gauge his reaction. It was the same patient expression from before. Waiting, but not wanting to push for information you weren't ready to give. 

“Go on, little one. What happened next?”

It felt like you were small again. Admitting to something you were ashamed of. Like you were talking to Father before your revelation about your clan. 

You felt safe.

“I was reminded of my past. I needed to get out of there. I really think I would've left Gon and Killua behind if they weren't right in front of me.”

You were shaking when you finished. Trembling with guilt. So strong and yet so utterly weak. 

“You're just a kid.” Morel said at last. 

You sent him a small glare with no real malice behind it. If anything you were frustrated with constantly being looked down by these people.

“Don't talk down to me, old man. I'm a helluva lot younger than you, but that doesn't make me a kid.” 

A ‘guess not’ leaving him as you leaned against the wall before ultimately deciding to sit down again. You didn't know when you got this close to the other side of the room. When your feet started moving you forward. It wasn't good to have your body in action while your mind was elsewhere. 

Surprisingly, Morel sat down next to you. He glanced at Kite, then back to you. As if weighing the pros and cons of something. If he should ask you the question burning in his mind.

“Why do you keep coming back here?”

And there it was. Your body tensed up. You didn't know how to respond. 

“Are you hoping something changes with Kite? Or is it something else?” He continued interrogating.

You were frozen. Your very being shutting down. You wanted to get up and leave. Yet you were unable to move from your spot on the floor.

“Are you punishing yourself for running away?”

He hit the nail right on the head. He knew he did judging by the way your eyes had widened. He couldn't help but pity you. You'd been broken down over the years. It was obvious with your way of thinking. That you had to make amends for the smallest of mistakes. 

“Shouldn't I?” you asked. Your voice was small, as if you truly couldn't fathom a world where it wasn't your fault.

“I'm responsible for this. Shouldn't I deserve to suffer for it? Shouldn't I deserve the worst for causing this?” You gestured towards Kite.

This glimpse of your true thoughts, of how far you'd been conditioned to spiral, it was upsetting. Beating yourself up when you were already down. All of it had to come from somewhere. From grief.

“You won't last long with that kind of attitude. Sometimes things go wrong that are out of our control,” he scolded. He gave a small sigh before continuing to speak.

“It's funny, you know?”

“What?” you forced yourself to say.

“You sound just like that Chimera ant we met. His name is Colt. He blames himself for his human sister's death. For the queen’s death. Now he's got a little one to take care of, and you know what he said?”

You shook your head no.

“He promised he wouldn't make the same mistakes with her. That he would protect her at all costs. Now who does that sound like?”

You could feel your eyes start to burn. There was no way. No way you could ever relate to one of those things. After all the pain and suffering they've inflicted. And yet you did. Eerily so. 

“You lost someone too, didn't you? It's why you're hard on yourself. You haven't forgiven yourself for what happened.”

The coincidence was almost enough to kill you. One tear. Then two. Then three. Then multiple at the same time.

Kari.

Your Kari who was ripped from you far too soon. Whose face you were starting to forget with age. Who had been the light of your life. 

“...I lost my little sister. I could've saved her. I could've saved her, but I ran away. I was too scared. I'm a disgrace. I'm worth less than nothing.” You buried your face in your knees in an attempt to hide yourself.

You didn't want anyone's sympathy. You refused to let anyone see you cry if you could help it. 

“Really? Those boys seem to think you're worth more than gold. They'd rather die with you than live without you. Why do you think they wanted you to use your nen on them?” Morel countered.

“Because they're stupid,” you sniffled out.

He had to stop his eyes from rolling at your comment. 

“You don't get it. If you told them to jump, they'd ask how high. If you decided right now not to go through with the extermination mission, they'd walk out with you.”

You could probably murder someone in cold blood right in front of them, and they'd find a way to excuse it. Their trust in you was unwavering. It was clear they held you to the highest standard.

Yet you still couldn't see that. Believing the worst in yourself because it was how you were brought up. The trauma inflicted on you from such a young age. You had to come to terms with it eventually. You had to accept it was never your fault.

“I know who you are” he admitted.

You'd stiffened up once more.

“The things you went through when you were a kid. Don't let their teachings warp your perception on life. You are deserving of love. And you have it. That clan's been backwards for years.”

You lifted your head up. If you weren't so vulnerable in the moment, you would have snapped. Instead you'd looked scared.

“How much do you know?” you hesitantly asked.

“We had to do our research when putting together the extermination team. You weren't hard to find with the name Netero gave. They've still got your missing photo up on the hunter website. The reward is still there too.”

You would never be free, would you? Forever tethered to the ghost of your past.

“They're still looking for me. They never gave up.” It was said more to yourself than Morel. 

They were lying in wait somewhere. Or perhaps they really did forget. A part of you was grateful for the information. A heads up to be more careful. You weren't out of it yet. When this was over, you'd get rid of your nen entirely. Rid of the risk.

“The boys don't know, do they?” Morel questioned.

“No. And I plan to keep it that way.”

“You should tell them before someone else does. They're bound to find out through other means. And I doubt they'd think any lesser of you.” He tried to convince.

“... I'll think about it.”

You were reminded of Netero and how he greeted you so casually in front of them. Using a name you'd long discarded. It was only a matter of time before something else came out.

“Be easy on yourself. If it helps, I know someone who does counseling for hunters. You weren't kidding about the stuff some of us experience. I can put you in contact with them if you ever want to talk about something. The boys too. I think it'll be good for them after this is over.”

You wondered what he got in return for helping you? Was it just because, or was there something he was after? People rarely did favors without expecting something back. The only person you met who did was Kite.

“Why are you being so nice to me, old man?” 

He smiled at you as he pulled out a cigar from his pocket.

“We're all on the same team here. Besides, it can't be easy taking care of two kids. I'd say you're doing a pretty good job, though.”

He lit the cigar and took a puff, blowing out perfect smoke rings. He extended his arm out, offering it to you.

“Do you smoke?” he asked.

“No, but I could give it a try.”

You reached for the cigar, and just as your fingers grazed it, he pulled it away.

“I forgot. You've still got the boys back home. They'll get sick with the fumes.”

You internally thanked him for his hindsight. With Gon's heightened sense of smell, he'd get lightheaded in minutes. And you doubted either of the boys would appreciate it if they knew you smoked. They'd probably scold you too.

“Yeah…You're probably right.”

—---------------------

You got home later than you expected. You supposed it was inevitable you'd lose track of time. You just need a moment to process things. To cope with the decision you made. 

You mulled over it again and again. Trying to convince yourself out of it, to no avail. You looked for every possible excuse, but you could find no good reason. 

You stood in front of the small home. Unlocking the door and finally stepping inside. You could hear the two boys conversing quietly in the kitchen. You hoped you hadn't ruined their day by leaving.

“I'm back!” You announced as you approached them.

They turned at the sound of your voice. A few take-out boxes littered the table. One going completely untouched. Good. They remembered to eat.

“We saved you some. It's from that one place you said you wanted to try, remember?” Gon offered.

Truthfully, it was a way for both of them to make amends for earlier. They hadn't meant to show their disappointment. It was just hard not to when the three of you were finally spending real time together. They knew how important this was to you. The last thing either one of them wanted was stop you from going.

But every time you did, it took a toll on you. Today more than others, it seemed. You looked miserable. The circles under your eyes had darkened impossibly worse. There was an undeniable heaviness in your expression that wasn't there before you left. 

Did something happen with Kite?

“How was he?” Gon asked.

The same thing he asked every time you came back. A part of him hoping something changed for the better. That there was an improvement. But this time was different. He wanted to know what went wrong for you to be so despondent.

“He was…the same.” You said slowly. Resting your head on your hand. 

“You're not hungry?” Killua observed.

You hadn't made a move to grab your food. You always ate when you came back. Even just a little bite. Something was wrong.

“I’m just thinking.” You responded. 

“About?” He prodded.

You let out a drained sigh. Looking between both boys before deciding to just rip the band aid off. If you didn't tell them, they'd eventually find out some other way. You wanted them to hear everything from you. 

“Can I talk to you two about something serious?” you asked.

Serious usually meant bad. And judging by the way the color drained from the boys' faces, they certainly thought so. You were quick to explain that wasn't the case.

“It's about me. I think I'm finally ready to tell you everything. My life before.”

Morel was right, and you were tired of denying them reasons for your actions. Tired of leaving their questions unanswered.

“Are you sure? You don't have to force yourself.” Gon assured.

You had come this far. No going back now.

“I'm sure. The question is, will you both be able to handle the truth?”

Handle knowing and not being able to act. Their reactions to Kite offered some much needed insight. Seeing the aftermath of what happened caused a rageful vengeance in one of them. What would hearing about what happened to you spark?

“After all we've been through, you think-!” Killua went to argue, but you stopped him with a raise of your hand.

You didn't mean for it to come off like you thought they were weak. 

“I know you two are strong. I mean, promise you won't do anything rash. I don't want you getting mad or angry. Or try to hold anyone responsible. Nobody can change what happened.”

They sat in silence for a moment. You were willing to trust them with this. To finally open up under the condition that they would control themselves. It was difficult not to be alarmed with your words. What exactly did you go through?

They didn't dare speak. Fearing if they said one wrong thing, they'd never get another chance to hear you out. Instead they both opted for giving you a small nod. 

So you finally began to explain everything. How you came from a respected clan of hunters. One that was primitive for the most part. Exceptions being made only for the most valued members.

You talked about what your role was. How you were trained since infancy to be the best of the best. To be strong. To be utterly devoted to your clan. You explained that you were a prodigy. The best tracker among your peers. Your eyes more precise than Father's. You were chosen as one of three potential candidates to become the head. 

You told them about your best friend. How he was right with you in terms of trajectory. How the two of you hated each other at first. How you were able to get past your differences when it mattered. Forming a rivalry rather than a feud. 

You talked about the old man who used to give you sweets. How he made you work for them by quizzing you on trivia from his time growing up. You talked about his daughter who used to sing the kids songs. Who might've been the closest thing you ever had to a mother. Carrying around her tunes to this day.

And finally, you talked about Father Reik.

The punishments you were given for failing. For lying. The isolation. The darkness. The starvation. The hitting. The people who blindly revered him. 

All the death and suffering your clan caused. How you tried to stop it, but couldn't. The way lives were taken without a care because ‘it’s nothing personal.’ The moment you realized you didn't want any part of it anymore.

How you made a plan to flee.

How they all turned on you. 

How your little sister was murdered right in front of you.

How you hid all these years in fear of the same thing happening to you. Why you kept running away. Why you refused to fight.

To prevent the same fate from befalling them.

“I used to hold a grudge. But now I'm just glad to be away from them.” You admitted.

You could sense that your words were unsatisfactory. A feeling of disbelief washing over both boys. You forced yourself to elaborate further.

“I…I don't hate them. Despite everything they've done to me, I don't hate them. They took me in. They fed me, gave me a home. They made me strong. Strong enough to protect the ones I love.”

“They abused you.” Gon said.

He had been clenching his fist tightly. Trying his best not to let his anger get the best of him. But he just couldn't accept you’d forgiven them. That you were still making excuses for them. After everything they did to you. 

He couldn't fathom being grateful to them. Why? It didn't make sense. Could they still have a grasp on you? Or were you truly done with it all?

“Yeah. Yeah they did.” You agreed.

“I don't want to excuse their actions, but it's not something that's black and white. My people were brought up to be the best of the best. To endure the worst hardships and persevere. From generation to generation. The outside makes you weak. You start thinking instead of focusing on what's best for the clan. It's a backwards sort of thinking that takes years and years to unlearn.”

Why were you giving them your sympathy? They didn't deserve it. 

“It takes so much energy to hold a grudge. I should hate them. I should hate him. I should want them all to suffer.”

Yes you should! You should be angry! You should denounce their actions entirely! You should-

“But I don't. That doesn't mean I forgive them. Just being far away from them is enough.” 

Your words were soft. The tone immediately snapping him out of his harsh thoughts. He promised he wouldn't get mad. That he wouldn't try to hold anybody responsible. He promised to be passive and listen. Yet here he was, getting worked up on your behalf. 

You just wanted peace. To be left alone. Considering everything that happened, it was the bare minimum you were asking for. And if that's what you truly wanted, then somehow he'd manage to let it go. 

“You're little sister, what was she like?” Killua questioned, diverting the subject to something lighter.

Something he'd been curious about for the longest time. The name you always mumbled in your sleep before reaching out. The girl who you completely shut down at the mention of.

Kari.

He wondered if she was anything like Alluka. If the way he treated her was anything like the bond you shared with your sister. Was he doing as good a job as you?

“She meant the world to me.”

You used your nen to conjure two small figures. One was taller than the other. They picked the smaller one up on their back.

“There are things I remember about her. Things I could never forget. Her hair was always a mess of unruly curls.”

The smaller figure sprouted curly hair. Jumping off of the taller one and proceeding to run in place. The taller one joined them, throwing its head back in what looked like laughter.

A silhouette very reminiscent of you.

“I tried brushing it out once, but the comb snapped in half. She said she was tired of her hair not doing what everybody else's was. After the third comb, I convinced her she didn't need to look like anybody else. That I loved her the way she was a thousand times over any approval from our peers.”

That sounded like you. Encouraging and soft when you wanted to be. Good to know that hadn't changed over time. But maybe a small part of the boys ached that they hadn't been the only ones on the receiving end of your affection. 

The two figures sat down. Little fingers folding into signs Killua could not read. 

“Her eyes were a light brown. So light, they were almost gold.”

The color of honey.

“But little by little, her face is starting to get blurry. And I know that one day I'll forget completely. The last thing I have of hers is our promise. What remains of her aura.”

Your promise not to fight. And you were willing to break it for them.

“We had a list of goals we wanted to do once we left the clan. Get a dog. Get a house. And ride a Ferris wheel. Stupid, but hey, we were five and seven. To us that meant a life well lived. I only lasted this long because I wanted to live for the both of us.”

You really loved her, didn't you?

A dejected feeling settled in both boys. Would either of them ever hold a candle to your sister? It looked like she took up your whole heart, leaving minimal space for anyone else. She drove you forward. Did they hold you back? Did you regret crossing paths with them and having the life you dreamed of on hold? Did you-

“But now I have you two. I have purpose. And I'd do anything to keep you safe. Even if it means you hate me for it.”

No. You loved them just as much as you had loved her. 

How selfish to be insecure over someone you cared for deeply. How shameful.

Things had been out in context now. Especially your tendency to flake when things got rough. And for the small assassin, he couldn't help but feel like he was the worst. He didn't know. You just wanted to protect the both of them and he'd snapped at you. He said awful things to you. Things that he didn't know tied back to something so terrible. 

And you'd forgiven him anyway.

“I'm sor-” he tried to apologize but was cut off.

“Please don't apologize to me. I don't want any sympathy. I'm not telling you all this so you can feel bad for me. I'm telling you because I trust you. You've never hidden anything from me, so I figured it was time for me to do the same.” You explained.

There was really nothing either of the boys could add to that. You'd told them about your upbringing. Now you wanted to focus on the future. A future they promised you'd get to fulfill your goals in. Where you'd be safe to live out the life you wanted to. So instead they said-

“Thank you for trusting us.”

—-----------------------

Fun Fact #16: Y/n’s new ability is called Playtime, in which they summon two marionettes. Each composed of a full half of their nen, leaving them completely exposed to outside attacks when both are summoned. Either can be used for defense or offense. When in offense mode, the marionette attacks its opponent relentlessly despite its small stature. Being able to avoid most critical hits and move with agility. When in defense mode, the marionette is used to block oncoming attacks by switching places with Y/n. The move is called Substitution. If Y/n is able to use Substitution consecutively three times, the marionette is able to steal the opponent’s ability for one hour. They will only disappear for three reasons. Y/n unsummons them. Y/n dies. Or Y/n passes out.

Tags: @fandomhoe101 @justxiao @bekataylorgriggs @zellwa @rainbowpr1sm @shun-nie

if you'd like to be tagged please let me know

MASTERLIST

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

An: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

It's here, after two months. We've almost reached the end game now. Fun fact- "You can't die, I won't let you” will come back to haunt us in future chapters  😃. I just love foreshadowing don't you? Also, our fun fact of the day is a mousekatool that will come in handy later. I just don't think I'll find the space to do explain it during our next two chapters, but we'll see. 

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH ✨🌈💕

And Happy Father's Day 👔👔👔 (because let's face it, y'all are the dadiest of daddies 🤤)

[cozymochi]

Hey Mochi! Sorry if I already asked, but do your ocs like wearing accessories? If so, what kind? :3

(I wanna hoping to draw acessorie fanart for them if thats ok!!)

(That’s okay with me 😩👍 Also going on a limb and assuming this is just about the boys.)

ERMM UHH… KINDA!

At least if I go by “accessories” in it’s more broad definition rather than just referring to jewelry (cuz if that was the case, only one guy would be wearing it.)

First context! I’m just gonna answer based on what I’ve drawn. Warning: No pictures just boring wall of text.

Emilio is a weird case. Like, in theory I would think he would be more accessorized, but he really hasn’t been. Not really. Call it a failure on my part because I simply haven’t explored this far visually, or on purpose for chArAcTer reAsOns. Aside from his showy boots, he doesn’t really do much in terms of accessorizing what he wears.

Out-of-uniform he seems to have a fondness for scarves. That counts as an accessory. But, as of right now I just have yet to experiment much, and even then, I don’t imagine straying too far from that. But, we’ll see.

The closest accessory wear that Cecil even has are just fingerless gloves— and when out-of-uniform he has a fanny pack. I think the most I would do if I had to explore accessorizing with Cecil would be expanding on gloves and, crap attached to belts.

Either way, he’s not much of an accessorize-ing type either.., but he does a little. Not enough to be adventurous, though, just enough to allude to being off the beaten path. Just…not enough to commit further.

Then there’s Nyoka who has… many hair thingies and trinkets, some weird chain linked to his glasses that’s attached to one of his diamond earrings. Least of all that other ear…thingy that’s shaped like a snake.

Then out-of-uniform it’s all of the above + this collar thing, pendants, rings, fancy watch, and sometimes bracelets. But TO BE FAIR— this is on purpose, he’s wealthy and this is just a shorthand means to show that off. His family has ties to gold n’ minerals, of course he’s wearing it. He’s just more ornate in general, it’s just his thing.

So TBH!!! At least based on all that? I guess that doesn’t really answer a definitive yes or no at all. Though, maybe none of this actually matters.

BECAUSE HEY! they’re meant to be twst boys, and regardless of what logically makes sense for a character in-universe— normal twst boys are going to be thrown in over-the-top highly accessorized, and improbable runway stuff anyway for that sweet VIEWERBASE….!!

I’m just y’know. By myself. And also they’re not in a VN with gacha mechanics, they’re in scattered drawings and mostly unpublished writings (latter of which even if they were published, only a small fraction of the art-viewers would even willingly look at.)

Anything I end up doing is just to convey an idea or a vibe since I’m considered the source™️, so doing any “for the lulz” experimentation isn’t much of a priority. Otherwise, a message I want to present might be compromised. I don’t really have the benefit of a VN everyone reads as a buffer to give context to justify why a stuffy-rule-stickler is suddenly wearing short-shorts and a halter top.

SO HONESTLY YOU COULD IGNORE ALL THIS AND MAKE UP WHATEVER, BYE

[pavlovianfuckery]

how about a fucked up game of hot potato because why not

A/N: Re-uploading all my fics after having a slight mental breakdown and deleting everything so this is kind of old, but bone apple tea and all that anyway

AO3

The Master-masterlist

Fandom Masterlist

Summary: How about one of each, it's exactly what it says on the tin, I blame ep6 for this one

Pairing: Dream/F!Reader

Notes: Oral sex, fingering, piv sex, is it still a gangbang if it's all the same person? no use of y/n

Length: 5800~ words

Going to bed on the night of your birthday is a somewhat gloomy affair. The day itself had been...fine, you supposed. Sure, there had been a bit of a party, a cake and a few thoughtful gifts from your closest friends. But that had been all. Nothing wrong with any of it. Still, you couldn't help being just a bit disappointed that the only one you had truly wanted to see today had been conspicuously absent. It's stupid of course, something so insignificant as somebody turning a year older would be laughably far beneath the notice of someone like him. And still.

Annoyed, you fully expect to have several sleepless hours ahead of you, so when you drift off as soon as your head hits the pillow, it's a pleasant surprise. Even more so is where you find yourself when you enter the Dreaming.

You'd been in his chambers before, of course. It might not have been very often or for very long, as the fleeting moments before waking up always seemed to pass so quickly. Arriving straight here was new. When his arms envelop you from behind you can't hold back a smile.

"Hey. I missed you today."

"Then I hope my absence can be forgiven," his voice is sly as he continues, tightening his arms around you a just fraction, "but I must confess, I wanted you all to myself when offering my gift."

Leaning back into him, you simply bask in the feeling of having him close.

"What kind of gift would that be? Nothing nefarious, I hope."

He rests his chin on your shoulder and clicks his tongue in mock disapproval, breath tickling your ear. "'Nefarious'? You wound me. That would depend entirely on what you wish for."

"I see. So the gift is a wish, then? Can I wish for anything I want?"

"Within reason, yes. Do you perhaps have a request in mind already?"

Being spoilt for choice isn't your strong suit and usually, this kind of situation would leave you at a loss and unable to make any choice at all, but for once you do know what you want. The real question is if he will go for it or not. Possibly mistaking your hesitation for reluctance, he makes you face him.

"I do have something I would like, but it's...silly." Biting your lip you turn your eyes away, unable to keep some embarrassment from showing.

"I have already seen your every fantasy, every dream. Nothing you could request would shock me," he reassures you."So go on my sweet, make your wish known, for I long to hear it."

"It's more of a combination of two different things, now that I think about it."

"Fortunately for you, I find myself in a very generous mood this evening." His tone is dry but his lips twitch into a small smile.

"Okay, so, first things first. Could I..." you take a deep breath, "Could I have more of you?"

"More in what sense?" The question doesn't faze him in the slightest, which bodes well for the other half of the request.

"In the 'more than one of you' kind of sense." Your cheeks are blazing and you almost can't believe that you just said that, but at least now the cat is out of the bag. Or one cat, at any rate.

"While we are here, in my realm, you certainly could. Is that what you want?" The way he looks at you when he asks makes lust coil in your belly, hot and heavy.

"Sort of." You plant a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth, "Do you remember..." you fiddle with the collar of his coat a bit, still feeling a bit shy about the whole thing, "when you showed me some of the things you used to wear, way back when?"

"I do." Judging by the look in his eye, he can tell where this is going. "As I recall, you rather enjoyed that."

"I did. Very much, in fact." The way he preens at that is kind of adorable.

"And was there, by any chance a...favourite?" He looks at you through lowered lashes, the way he fishes for another compliment not nearly as subtle as he would probably like to think.

"Well, you see, that's the problem, I don't think there was." You've never seen him confused before, but this comes pretty close. Figuring it's better to rip the bandaid off sooner rather than later, you go on; "I adored every version of you. How could I choose only one? I want all of you."

"Is that your wish?" You have a sneaking suspicion that he will be insufferable after this, because he looks like a cat that has eaten an entire flock of canaries, eyes gleaming. "To have one of me for every era? All at once?"

"Can I?" The thought makes your insides quiver, want making you almost dizzy. "You're not...upset with me or anything?"

That makes his eyebrows shoot up, or as close to it as you've ever seen.

"My love, how could your request possibly upset me? If anything, I am flattered that you would hunger after me so." He cups your chin in his hand and brushes his lips across yours. "I would deny you nothing, but I do have terms of my own."

"Tell me." The eagerness in your voice makes him smile again and you almost regret the whole thing immediately, because if there is one thing he doesn't particularly need, it's an ego boost.

"As it happens, my request is also twofold. Firstly, I get to watch." He slides his arms around your waist and pulls you close, and his breath is hot against your ear as he continues; "Secondly, you may have each of me only once, and after you have had your fill, I fully intend to have my own turn with you as well."

"That sounds," the thought of him watching you like that makes the words stick as if your tongue was made of flypaper and you struggle to swallow, getting the words out."Sounds fair. Why only once though?"

"I admit my motive for that is entirely selfish; I want you lucid enough by the end of it for me to enjoy properly." The way he says it is almost a purr, and if your knees weren't weak before they're certainly starting to get there now. That he would even be willing to indulge you like this wasn't a given, but him outright enjoying it makes you almost giddy.

"Okay. So, this is a bit embarrassing but...I have no idea how this is supposed to work. I didn't really think that far ahead," you admit a bit sheepishly. "Is there anything I should keep in mind at all?"

"Did your appetite get the better of you?" That earns you an outright chuckle, though not unkind. "No matter, I will take care of you," he strokes your cheek with a soft smile. The emphasis on 'take care' doesn't go unnoticed, and it makes anticipation buzz under your skin. "The only thing I require of you tonight is that you enjoy yourself. You need not treat them any differently than myself because, in every way that matters, that is what they are."

"And you're sure that you're alright with this? I don't want you to feel like you're being left out or anything like that." You frown up at him, feeling terribly selfish.

"Your concern is touching but unnecessary, my love." He rubs his thumb over your bottom lip, his tone airy as he continues, "Anything I create for you will be connected to me, and in part, I will share in the sensations."

Flicking his eyes over your shoulder, he steps closer and kisses you deeply, pushing you to take a few steps back until you hit something solid and pair of arms circle your waist from behind. Your heart is beating against your ribs like a bird in a cage and when another pair of hands join in and slides under the hem of your shirt, it feels like all the air leaves your lungs at once. When you whimper into his mouth, he pulls back and has the absolute gall to smirk at you.

"Go on now, indulge yourself to your heart's content. I will be right here, awaiting my turn."

And with that, he saunters over to the sturdy chair by the desk and sits down, in what might be the most nonchalant way you've ever seen. Leaving you there with, well, all of him.

It's a bit like being thrown to a particularly polite pack of ravenous wolves. Being surrounded like this is a bit disorienting and with the way they all eye you hungrily, the thought that you might be in over your head this time flashes in your mind. It's surprisingly gentle though, the way you get passed from one version of him to the next, all of them stepping in close, taking turns, putting you at ease. You've always marveled at the softness of him, of his skin, but in this mass of bodies and mouths and grasping hands, it feels like you could drown in it.

The way they undress you is no less gentle, one pair of hands passing you to the next until your bare skin is pressed against the myriad of fine fabrics. Some questionable decisions aside he has always dressed well, every texture brushing your skin feeling nothing less than luxurious. It's intense, all the teasing little touches and kisses from every direction, and they don't stop even when you feel like you might implode. The entire time you can feel the way your Morpheus watches you, his gaze on you an almost physical weight.

It's overwhelming, and your knees start to buckle. For a moment you think that you might just sink to the floor, but strong arms steady you as the closest one pulls you to him, the cloth of his tunic so lovely against your heated skin.

"It's alright," he murmurs against your lips, "I've got you."

Pushing one leg between yours he guides your hips, encouraging you to grind against it. It feels better than it has any right to, and when he backs the few steps away to the bed and hauls you on top of him, you don't resist. You're not expecting to come like this, humping his leg like a bitch in heat and ruining his trousers, but the rest of him won't stop touching you and he's watching you and it's simply too much. His slightly longer hair tickles your cheek as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, and with one last slow drag over his thigh, you come, without even meaning to.

Some silly part of your brain feels like you should be apologizing, but when you open your mouth to do just that, this version is gone and you're alone on the bed. You shoot a confused look at your Dream, sitting leisurely in the chair still.

"Did you forget my terms, my love?" He looks like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth as he reminds you, clearly enjoying himself.

Not letting it get to you, you simply set your sights on the next one. It's not as easy as you might have hoped. It's a lot like being a kid in a candy store at this point, they all look so tempting and you just want to devour every single one.

You've always enjoyed a good suit though, and the suit he'd chosen for one of the more recent versions of himself was very good. His hair is shorter than you can recall ever seeing it, and with the ruby shining at his throat, he looks every bit the distinguished gentleman. The sharp lines of the suit are a stark contrast to the rest of him, making the plush pink of his lips look even more inviting. That's probably not the effect he intended, to look kissable rather than imposing, and the thought almost makes you giggle. It doesn't stop you from approaching him and doing just that, though, grabbing hold of his lapels as you do so.

The kiss leaves you winded, the fabric of the expensive-looking suit jacket rubbing deliciously against your nipples.

"This is a good look on you," the words are a bit breathless in their delivery, but they do come easier now, inhibitions crumbling away. The shorter hair feels a bit strange in your hand, not being as much to pull on. It still works though, and he gives easily enough, letting you bite his neck gently, scraping your teeth over the creamy skin. "You should wear a suit more often."

He's a bit too perfect though, still too composed. Undoing the buttons of the vest takes some doing, but you manage it, fingers barely shaking at all. The dress shirt is a lot thinner than what you're used to, and having him so close with almost nothing separating your hands from his skin is maddening.

"Perhaps I shall," the slight curve of his lips makes you want to kiss him again but he grabs your chin, his grip surprisingly gentle as he runs his thumb across your bottom lip. "Tell me what you would like."

You can't resist flicking your tongue out, licking the pad of his finger as you consider your options. When you suck the digit into your mouth he blinks at you slowly, and you can feel him stir through his trousers. It makes your mouth water, makes you know precisely what you want.

"I want to suck you." It comes out as a sigh, full of longing. "Want to come with you in my mouth." Stroking his thighs through the deceptively thin fabric feels wonderful, the muscles of his legs firm under your hands. "Can I? Please?" When you meet his eyes, they are barely blue anymore, the way they reflect the light betraying his true nature.

"You may."

He makes dropping to your knees so easy. Something about kneeling at his feet like this feels right, and as he gets his length out and rubs the tip over your lips you can't stop a small whine from escaping.

"You have the prettiest cock I've ever seen, have I told you that?"

"No." He strokes your hair, gently encouraging you. "Show me."

It's not an order, not quite. Still, he doesn't have to tell you twice. Everything about him is so smooth, his skin like silk as you run your lips over him. At first, you simply lick at the head, teasing fat drops of pre-come out of him, lapping them up like the most precious of pearls. The way they coat your tongue is heady and it always makes you feel oddly powerful, this tangible proof of the effect you have on him. Using your hand to cover what your mouth can't, you start working him in earnest, putting on a bit of a show as you let the drool drip down your chin, drawing the loveliest noises out of him.

The long, shaky exhale as he hits the back of your throat makes you ache.

"Touch yourself for me."

You can't respond, but you can do as he says, so that is exactly what you do. It's hard to do it effectively, but you don't have to be very precise, just the sounds you coax out of him as you bob your head is enough to bring you a good part of the way on their own. From here you can see your Dream from the corner of your eye, and it looks like he wasn't being disingenuous about the "sharing the sensations" part. His cheeks are flushed, legs spread wider than before as he breathes heavily, his eyes never straying from you. Even from here, you can tell that he is painfully hard, the tightness of his jeans does nothing to hide it.

Just to see what he'll do, you decide to press your limits, just a little. In the waking world, you probably wouldn't be able to do it, not like this. But this is the Dreaming, so you relax your throat and take him even further. When you swallow around him the noise he makes above you is a strangled thing and he grabs onto your shoulder, steadying himself.

"Do that again."

When you do, the Dream watching you sags in his seat, knuckles white as he grips the armrests. It doesn't take a lot after that, hearing him and tasting him and watching the way he watches you. It's not as fast as the first time, but you still come faster than you wanted to, your own fingers pushing you over the edge with a few shaky rubs. With the way he fills your throat, you can't even moan as you spasm around nothing, regretting that you hadn't asked for more, to be filled there too.

You wish you could have kept going a while longer but you had agreed to the terms and he holds you to them, though it's less of a surprise this time around. Still just as frustrating though.

"I wasn't finished with that one," you pout at him.

"You were, though." His breathing is still a bit uneven. "Would you rather argue with me, or enjoy the rest of your gift?" Before you can respond he continues, "Or have you perhaps changed your mind? I can take it back if you'd prefer."

"Now you're just being mean." It gets you to your feet and moving again though, not wanting to risk finding out that he's serious. He always looks good so making any kind of choice is still difficult, but you manage. This one you trap against the edge of the desk with your body, caging him in with your arms.

"Why the fuck," you ask, kissing his neck, "are you dressed like a priest? On second thought, don't answer that."

"You seem to like it well enough," he murmurs as you grind your hips into his.

"It's absolutely ridiculous." Twisting the voluminous sleeves you wind the fabric around your hands, using it to pin his wrists to the desk as you bite his neck, perhaps a little bit rougher than you had originally intended.

"Never have I met a creature quite as greedy as you, my love," he groans as you mark him, bruises staining his pale throat prettily. "I would lay my hands on you, if you'd have me. Let me please you."

The way he says it makes it sound so good, so tempting, that you let him go, let him lay you out on top of the desk. This way you're close enough to touch your Dream, so you reach for him, pulling him down for a kiss. Being crowded like this feels better than you had ever imagined as they take turns kissing you, touching you, until you're almost dizzy with lust again.

"Is this..." you pant against his lips as one of his other selves sucks one of your nipples into his mouth greedily, "is it alright, like this?"

Every bit of worry or shame evaporates as he slides a finger into you, though, making you abandon the kiss in favour of watching his hand between your legs. The sleeves might look ridiculous but they feel lovely dragging over the insides of your thighs as he pumps in and out of you slowly. He's always known how to touch you well, and this time is no exception as he adds a second finger, hooking them just so. The way his fingers drag over that one spot inside makes you tremble.

"Can I have some more?" You can feel him grin against your skin at the question, but he doesn't bother to tease you, just adds a third finger, his thumb settling over your clit, just barely touching. The way he ghosts the pad of his finger over it makes you squirm, wanting more still, for him to rub you properly.

"Patience, my sweet," he admonishes you, "I will take care of you, if you let me."

With that, he plunges a fourth finger in and gently presses down on your lower belly, trapping that sensitive spot between the palm of his hand and his fingers. The way he massages you is slow and methodical, as if he has all the time in the world to pull you apart. Every brush of his thumb is light as a feather, and while it makes you want more, you don't strictly need it. You can feel your peak approaching, slow but inevitable.

"If you keep that up I'm going to, "you tangle your hand in his hair, gasping, "make a mess of your desk."

"I know." The way he looks at you then is so smug and just all-around indecent that you can't decide if you want to punch him or kiss him. You barely have time to settle on the latter before pleasure overcomes you, washing over you in powerful waves. You can't remember the last time you were this wet and he's not stopping, whispering encouragements against your lips as you pulse and gush over his fingers with a pitiful little whimper.

The last spasm has barely finished when he leaves you empty, splayed out alone on the desk. Or, not quite alone. This time, the choice isn't yours, another Dream stepping in between your legs before you've barely had time to catch your breath. Compared to the softer fabrics you're accustomed to, the fine leather makes him look sleeker, meaner, though no less inviting.

"This is...different." Running your hands over it, you revel in the buttery feel of it under your fingers. "I think I like it though."

"Of course you do," He doesn't bother to hide the pleased look on his face.

"Hold on, is that..." you pull him down closer, craning your neck to see. "You never told me you had an earring."

"Should I have? It hardly seems important." There is a small wrinkle between his eyebrows, confusion over why something so small could be significant at all. It's pretty adorable.

"Maybe," you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist, petting his hair as you catch the small ring in your teeth, giving it a little pull. He seems to enjoy that, letting out a short exhale of breath as he grinds his hips into you. He's half hard already, uncaring of the mess.

"You can have me like this, if that is what you want." Preoccupied with the earring still you don't respond right away, so he adds, "Unless you would rather play with my jewellery?"

"Sorry." You let it go, albeit reluctantly.

"No need to apologize. If you enjoy it so much, perhaps I should wear it again." His eyes sparkle with mirth as he kisses you, clearly amused by your dumbstruck expression as you imagine the present iteration of him with an earring. "Now, turn over for me."

When he asks like that you can hardly refuse, nor do you want to. At this rate, you're not sure how much more you can take. Being in the Dreaming can only stretch your limits so far, and you're starting to approach yours. For now, resting your body on the desk gives your shaky legs a welcome reprieve.

"Wider." The leather of his boots is smooth against your calves as he pushes your legs apart, and you let him. Once you're arranged to his liking, he leans over you and kisses the back of your neck, his tip prodding your entrance as he rocks his hips gently, not entering just yet. Your Dream is watching you intently, reaching out to twine your fingers together.

"Are you enjoying your gift so far?" The small smile on his lips makes it very obvious that he doesn't expect you to respond in any coherent way. When his other self slides into you, burying himself as far as he will go, they both moan, his grip on your hand tightening.

The pace he sets is slow and deliberate but not very gentle, his grip firm on your hips as he nearly lifts you onto the tips of your toes. Still sensitive from your last orgasm, the way he drives into you with inhuman precision is its own form of torture, pushing you towards the next one with relentless focus.

"Morpheus please, I can't," the words come out in a garbled kind of plea, "it's too much, I can't."

"You can." He sounds so certain, not leaving you any room to argue as he presses himself against you and pushes you down to prevent you from wriggling. "You will."

And he's right, you can feel it. It's a slow burn, like petals unfurling, and it feels like you could swallow him whole, the intensity of it turning your legs to jelly. This isn't the kind of release you can chase, all you can do is wait for it, for him to bring you there.

"You feel so good like this, so plump with pleasure," he sighs, rolling his hips into yours. "Let me feel you." Just hearing his voice brings you closer, he's watching and you're so very nearly there, and then your Dream is kissing you, drinking your every sound like a man parched and he's still talking.

"Come with me." He bottoms out then, and it's either the 'with' or the way he swells so deep inside of you that does it, but you do. It's like melting, like falling, but he catches you, holds you there as you go limp underneath him, hardly able to breathe. He hurtles over that edge right along with you, groaning as he does, but the noise your Dream makes right into your mouth is downright filthy.

Being left empty is no less jarring this time around, but you're more interested in him, the damp spot at the crotch of his jeans. He notices you looking, and lets out an amused little huff of not-quite-laughter, leans his forehead to yours.

"Don't worry, my love," he nips at your bottom lip, eyes dark. "I fully intend to have my turn with you still." He leans back in his chair and drops a kiss on the back of your hand. "Enjoy the rest of your gift. I will be waiting for you."

Flopped bonelessly on top of the desk, you do your best to catch your breath and clear your head. If you had known exactly what you were getting into, you might have been a bit more restrained and not asked for all of him like this, but you're not going to back out now. He's not really letting you either, his mind set on giving you exactly what you asked, for better or worse. When the next pair of hands touch you softly, gliding up the back of your legs, you lean into it, refusing to let him get the better of you as you turn to face him.

"Do you need rest?"

Probably.

"No."

"Very well." If he doubts you, he doesn't show it, leaning over to take the tip of your breast into his mouth.

Something about this version of him is a bit too immaculate, too polished. Everything from the too-rich fabrics of his clothes to the touch of makeup around his eyes makes him look decadent, like a dessert that is just a bit too heavy to stomach more than a mouthful of. There is an honest-to-god ribbon in his hair, tied in the most infuriatingly perfect bow you've ever seen. The effect is maddening; he looks like something you'd like to ruin. And judging by the way he looks at you as he kisses his way down your body, he absolutely knows it.

It's a simple thing for him to haul you to the edge of the desk, leaving you open to him. All his finery makes him look entirely out of place kneeling between your legs, but you can't quite find it in you to care as he kisses you there softly, giving your clit a little flick with the tip of his tongue. Everything is just this side of too sensitive and you flinch away on pure reflex, but he doesn't let you close your legs, keeping them apart with his hands.

His breath is hot on you as he gently laps at you, soothes you with his tongue, almost impossibly soft. Rather than devour you he cleans you, his eyes fixed on yours as he takes every part of you inside his mouth, working his way from the outside in. And in.

The way his cheeks hollow as he sucks at you is nothing short of obscene. The sight alone is enough to make you want him all over again but then he opens his mouth, shows you his tongue coated in his own release and you throb. Watching his adam's apple bob as he swallows makes your mouth go dry and you're not sure what kind of noise you just made but it must have been something to make him smirk at you like that. When he puts his mouth on you again, you bury your fingers in his too-perfect hair.

He is nothing if not determined, wholly uncaring of the fact that you're nearing the limit of how much more you can take. Slipping first one finger into you, then another he sighs, kissing the inside of your thigh.

"I love seeing you like this, all undone for me."

When he puts your aching clit between his lips and gives it a few slow gentle sucks, you can't help clawing at him until the ribbon in his hair comes loose.

"Morpheus, please!" Everything is hazy around the edges and you're not sure if you're begging for more or less or something else entirely, "please, oh please, pl..."

And then there is a mouth on yours, muffling your cries, hands cradling your face. There is almost too much of him like this, so much to touch and his other self is still devouring you like you're the sweetest thing he's ever tasted until you're a quivering mess under his tongue, tense like a bowstring. It's a slow kind of falling apart and you can barely make a sound as he wrenches your release out of you, dragging it out hot and slow, bordering on painful. His hands are the only thing holding you up as he kisses you as if he could swallow you, take you into himself and keep you there.

When the waves of pleasure recede it's almost a relief, finally letting you breathe. Opening your eyes, you think for a split second that you might cry, the way he's looking at you is so soft. No tears fall, but your love for him rises and swells in your chest until it feels like you might burst at the seams, choking you as you wind your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair.

"Take me to bed? Please?"

And he does, they both do. You want to undress him, to peel him out of all those layers, you do, but you're shaking and your fingers can't quite obey, fumbling the buttons until he simply lets all of it fade away and you're pressed between both of them with nothing separating you.

It's a remarkably tender thing, the way they tangle their limbs with yours, kissing every inch of your skin like you're something precious. You vaguely remember how he said that he wanted you "lucid enough to enjoy" but that isn't what he ends up getting, not quite. He doesn't seem to mind though, even as he puts you on your hands and knees.

Despite the exhaustion starting to set in, having his cock right in front of your face like this is a temptation, one you don't bother fighting. Even your mouth feels clumsy as you take him in, wanting him in any way you can get. When his other self starts easing into you from behind you can't keep a whine back, overstimulated nearly to the point of tears.

"Shhh, just let me..." He whispers, pressing kisses to your back, long hair sliding over your skin like strands of silk, "just let me..."

And you do, letting him sink in as far as he will go. He rocks against you so gently, like he's worried you might break. At this rate, it feels like you might. Trapped between the both of them like this, the only thing you can really do is let them, let him, use you. When he puts his hand between your legs and starts stroking you, it feels like he might actually drive you mad.

"Just one more, my sweet," he whispers, his breath tickling the back of your neck, "one more for me, then you can rest."

Every slide of his finger over your swollen clit feels like ice, like fire, and you can't even move away. You feel like a worn-out spring being wound up too tightly, but he is utterly determined to coax one more climax out of you, not stopping even when you start whimpering. When your walls start fluttering around him, weakly at first, you swirl your tongue shakily over the tip of his cock, the shared sensations making him moan.

"You're doing so well," he pants, stroking your hair with a not-quite-steady hand.

You can tell that he's just as close as you are, swelling inside you and on your tongue, and you want him to come with you, properly this time. The noise he makes as you take him into your throat is a shattered thing, he's barely holding on and his eyes are black and that finally makes the tension inside you snap with a strength that wracks your entire body. When you swallow it's more on reflex than anything else but it's enough to push him over the edge right along with you, pulsing down your throat and in your cunt with a sound that isn't exactly human, either.

As you come down from your high everything is a bit of a blur, every part of your body is aching as the tension finally drains out of you. The only thing you have energy for is collapsing on the bed in an ungraceful heap. He wastes no time pulling you to him though, chest heaving for breath you know he doesn't strictly need. When you start shivering, he conjures a blanket to cover you, holds you close. He's never been a selfish lover but the tenderness of the gesture still makes your heart constrict in something like pain, knowing he might not be there for your next birthday. You've always known what he is so you try not to mourn prematurely, covering your worry with humour instead.

"Dream?"

"Yes, my love?" He kisses the top of your head softly, content for now.

"Do Endless have birthdays?"

⁂

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[ooihcnoiwlerh]

New chapter is up for my Feyd-Rautha/Reader fic. I'll provide the AO3 link here: And I Don't Want Your Heart - Chapter 3 - ooihcnoiwlerh - Dune (2021) [Archive of Our Own]

But if you'd prefer to read it here I can provide it under the cut. As you can imagine, there are trigger warnings for this fic in general as well as this chapter.

TW: arranged marriage, forced marriage, dubious consent, implied/referenced self-harm, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced incest, heavy violence, first times, rough sex, blood kinks, and of course Feyd-Rautha who is his own walking content warning.

If you haven't read my fic yet I do recommend reading the prologue and first chapter to get what's going on. It's all on AO3.

CHAPTER TWO: THE MOMENT YOU'VE BEEN DREADING

“It’s time, Na-Baroness.”

You turn to look at her.  She keeps her head down.  “We need to get you to your bedchambers to prepare,” she adds.

You take a breath.  He and everyone else need you to be living and healthy at least for the time being.  You’ll be able to manage whatever happens tonight, you tell yourself.

You give a small nod, reach for your goblet, and finish the contents in three big swallows before setting it down.

Your mother sees you get up and her eyes widen just a fraction.  You smile at her as you make a detour to wish your family a good night.

“I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast,” you tell your parents.  Afterwards all off-world guests will be going home, and you’ll have to deal with the fact that this desolate killing field of a planet is your home now.  You try not to think about how you probably won’t be seeing any of your family again until the next wedding or funeral as you give each of them a crushing hug.  When your younger sister hugs you back, you wonder if she’s thinking about her future, if she’s terrified that she’ll have an even worse match.

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” Father tells you as you pull away from his embrace.  When he looks at you, you can tell he’s thinking, I’d give anything right now for you to have been born a son.

“Thank you, Father,” you tell him, thinking, Come on, now.  You can’t put me up to this marriage in the first place and then act as though I’m going to my execution.  You need for them to have hope that you’ll be okay.  One of you has to believe that I can get through this.

You sense the Baron watching you.  You can feel his distaste at the open sentimentality but he doesn’t say anything, so it seems that he’ll allow it.  How kind of him, you think bitterly.

When you start to move past them your mother tugs at your wrist one last time and you turn to face her.  She doesn’t say anything, so you end up speaking for her.

“It’ll be alright,” you say softly, taking her hands.

She almost smiles, then swallows.  “I should be the one saying that to you,” she says.  You just give her a small smile of your own and kiss her cheek.  You end up letting go of her hands first, but it takes only the first tug for her to relinquish yours.  You resume your trek out of the Great Hall when you reach the head of the table and stop, remembering one last obligation before you go.

You need to pay your respects to the Baron first and it makes you hesitate.  You don’t want to talk to him, don’t want to look at him, don’t want to even think about him.  His nephew strikes fear in you, but there’s a kind of revulsion that the Baron inspires that is tangible even as you can’t quite explain it.  Even if you didn’t know his reputation as a bloodthirsty warmonger that makes your father seem like a pacifist by comparison, even though you’re sure that there’s more you haven’t discovered yet, even with the limited interactions you’ve actually had with him, he makes your skin crawl.  You step forward, eyes downcast, incline your head, and dip into the deepest curtsy you can manage in your gown.

“Thank you, Baron, for your gifts, your kind reception, and your hospitality,” you tell him.

After a pause he seems to think you’ve expressed an adequate amount of gratitude and says, “May you continue to please my lovely nephew,” he responds, voice low enough that your family won’t hear but the people next to him will.  He knows that you know what he means.

Contempt and shame war within you.  You refuse to look up at him.  “Yes, Baron,” you manage, face flushing.  Your hands shake.  You rise and turn away.  Idrisa’s there within arm’s reach to escort you out.

It’s a long stretch of silence to get from the Great Hall to the Harkonnen private chambers, but neither of you know quite what to say that you’d be willing to risk anyone hearing.

She guides you back into your bedchambers.  Once there, you stand in the middle of the room, frozen and useless.  “Will he want me in this?” you ask after a moment.  You picture him tearing the fabric of your underskirts, maybe slicing your bodice with one of his hidden blades.  It’s easy to picture him desecrating a symbol of your union.  It’s also easy to picture him simply pulling down your undergarment, bending you over the nearest flat surface, and debasing you as you’re still fully clothed.

Idrisa shakes her head.  “The Na-Baron had some specific requests.  He’d like you out of this,” she says.  “I’ll help you.”

She’s so gentle with her touch and the meticulous way she undoes your bodice and arranges your skirts that it unnerves you rather than soothes you.  It’s such a contrast to how you’re certain you’ll be touched as soon as you leave these chambers that you tremble at her fingertips.

“It’ll be alright,” she says softly.  “You and the union between the Houses is too important for him to seriously hurt you.”  You don’t miss the disclaimer of ‘seriously’.  You have nothing to say to that, only watching as she sets the gown back on the mannequin it arrived with and turns to you, in just your boots and undergarments.  

You sigh and take care of your boots and the stockings underneath as Idrisa reaches into your drawers for a chemise and robe.

“He wants you to take off your undergarments,” she says over her shoulder.

“Of course he does,” you mutter, working on those next, stripping down bare.  “For ‘ease of access.’”

“It’s not an unreasonable request,” Idrisa says mildly, taking your discarded clothes and handing you the chemise to put on.  “We’re almost done.”  She sets down a pair of slippers for you to step into and gives you your robe before taking a step back and taking inventory of you.  She tilts her head and bites her lip.

“Hair down, I think,” she says.  “Your make-up held up well, so we won’t need to reapply anything.”

“We could, you know.”  It’ll buy me some time to collect myself.  Although that isn’t entirely true; you’ll still be just as nervous an hour from now as you will be five minutes from now, and you both know it as Idrisa quietly arranges your hair into a style she thinks your groom will find suitable.

His chambers, as it turns out, are just next door.  “Thank you,” you tell her when you get inside.  It’s a large room, as austere as all the other rooms but the limited furniture within it is of high-quality.  A black armoire against the opposite wall with dressers and a desk and chair to match, and then of course the bed.  

It’s a massive four-poster with a steep headboard.  You can’t help but notice rings and hooks lining each bedpost.  You don’t think you’re ignorant by any means, considering your overall lack of experience, but you’re not sure what they could possibly mean.  In the next room you can faintly hear the sound of running water.

“The Na-Baron is finishing up in his bathroom.  He’ll be ready for you in just a moment,” Idrisa tells you, before reaching for your robe.  You instinctively move away, wanting the barrier between your skin and the suddenly oppressive air of an unfamiliar room.

She holds on, undeterred, to your sleeves.  “The Na-Baron said that he would have his wedding gift already unwrapped and in bed waiting for him,” she says apologetically.  

You think of your father’s words from days ago (“oiled and trussed up before being thrown into his bedroom”) and take a breath before shedding the robe and stepping out of your slippers yourself. You don’t look at Idrisa as you raise the chemise up and over your shoulders before tossing it to the floor and once you’re completely bare try to cover yourself with your arms as you take a few steps back.  It feels dumb; she’s already seen you naked and so will the man on the other side of the bathroom door in just a minute, but you want to hold on some semblance of modesty in this unfamiliar room.

Idrisa looks away as she picks everything up.  “I’ll leave you to your privacy, then,” she says.  

“I’ll be nearby,” she adds, folding your clothes and setting them on the dresser and the slippers on the floor just beside it.  She glances over at you one last time as if to say, Good luck, before turning and leaving.  The door clicks and you’re left in silence.  The water stops.

Better get moving, then, you think as you stare at the bed.  You wonder briefly what such an intimidating piece of furniture has seen over the years, and you’re honestly not sure how to present yourself once you reach it.  Do you lie on your back, like you’ve been told, is the civilized, kind manner in which to take a bride?

You think of the way your groom prowls, the way he kills.  He’s barely civilized and he’s certainly not kind; the animalistic way he moves and looks at you suggests that he’ll fuck you like an animal too, on all fours and without preamble, but the idea of getting into that position, of presenting yourself to him in such a way, makes you wince the moment you imagine it.

So you compromise and settle on your side, facing the bathroom entrance where he’ll soon emerge.

Your heart races as nearly a full minute ticks by before the door opens and Feyd-Rautha emerges, as naked as you are.

You try to stay composed and keep a sense of demure composure about you as you take inventory of him and what is meant to go inside of you tonight.  He is indeed smooth everywhere, and half-hard.  You digest the fact that even without a full erection, he's larger than the limited sample size you've witnessed.  You think that it’s kind of funny that he looks more powerful naked than he does in his armor, or even in his undergarments but to your relief he’s also as unarmed as he can possibly be.  And if this is to happen, it is a comfort knowing that it will be with a man whose body you find beautiful to look at.

His eyes drift over yours, mapping everything as he takes his fill,of the rest of your body.  “Have you ever taken a man inside of you?” he asks.

You shake your head and try not to let your nerves get the better of you as you wonder how much this is going to hurt.  He sees the fear in your eyes, though, as he crosses over and slides into bed alongside you without another word.  Your breath hitches, your heart pounding.  Not for the first time he makes you feel like a rabbit in a field.  It’s hard to reconcile that and the excitement within you; perhaps it’s adrenaline.

He slowly angles you to lay back as he props himself above you.  Your pulse thuds in your ears and you hear your own gasp as if it’s coming from somewhere else.

There’s a moment he’s looming above you, and you’re caught between fear and a growing heat between your legs, your nerves on end, before you surprise the both of you.  Without allowing yourself to think about it you lean up, cup the back of his head and pull him into a kiss.  This much you’ve done before, anyway.  You hope that it’ll help ease you into everything else.

It catches him off-guard, which gives you a brief sense of satisfaction, feeling like the playing field has been leveraged, before he kisses back.  He seems to like it, the hint of a challenge, and responds in turn by deepening the kiss and pressing his tongue into your mouth.  After a moment’s hesitation, unsure where to put your hands, you find that trailing them along his arms and back feels right.  

For the first minute it actually feels nice.  Then the first brush of the tip of his cock against your stomach makes you gasp.  You can feel him filling out the rest of the way and try not to look down.  It won’t help settle your nerves at all to see just how large it is when fully engorged.  The soft skin of it bumps against your bare stomach again before he shifts his legs so both are between yours, forcing you to spread your thighs around his hips.  He breaks the kiss and watches your face as he shifts one hand from beside your head to between his legs, taking himself in hand.

You clench your thighs and gasp, heart racing.  Without thinking you give a small cry when he guides his cock along your slit.  You feel stupid for it; he’s not even inside of you yet, but you can feel yourself seize up.

He pauses, as if trying to gauge something. Then he releases himself to slide his fingertips between the apex of your thighs instead.  Your chest heaves as you think about how you’re the only one who’s ever put a hand there, and even then only a few times.  You have enough time to think that you’ve never felt more helpless in your life before he brushes his fingers along your slit, all the more sensitive for the lack of hair, and then brings a thumb to the bud between your legs you only discovered for the first time a few years ago by accident.  He circles his thumb lazily, watching your stomach clench and your lips part in a gasp.  You shut your eyes, the intimacy of it already more than you could’ve anticipated.

“Look at me,” he says sharply, and you force your eyes open.  He tilts his head ever so slightly as his thumb presses down and your hips arch up.  You hold onto him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you bite your lip, trying to breathe normally.  He blinks as he takes in your reaction, his gaze traveling from your face to your hips before moving his hand, shifting his fingertips to your entrance.

The press of one finger inside of you is a stretch, unfamiliar but not unpleasant once you adjust to the feeling of being penetrated for the first time, and you want to look away, embarrassed at just how exposed you are to this man but as soon as you do, he repeats, irritated that he’d have to say it again, “Look at me.”

Your eyes snap back to his.  He curls his finger inside of you and your mouth falls open in a silent cry, your stomach clenching, and he tilts his head slightly, pulling his hand back to add a second finger alongside it, and this time the burn of it’s just a little too much.  You try to pull your hips back, face pinched in discomfort, and he gives a frustrated exhale as he tries twisting his fingers, only to get the same reaction.  He pulls his fingers out, and seems to think about what to do next.

He glances down at your chest, at your stiffened nipples, and lowers himself down onto his forearms, his head down to your breasts, teeth and tongue scraping against one, then the other.  As you whine and cradle the back of his neck you wonder if this is like a game for him, trying to see what noises he can pull from you where, and doing what, as he travels from one part of your body to another.  You try to collect your breath as he stops, traveling lower, his body sliding almost serpentine along the length of the bed and you can’t help but watch the muscles in his back and shoulders.

You briefly notice that there are old scars there that you hadn’t been able to see properly in the semi-darkness of the fighting halls.  They look like lash-marks that span from his shoulder blades to the tops of his buttocks.  But that’s the last coherent thought you have before Feyd-Rautha’s face disappears between your spread legs and you cry out, back arching at the first contact between his mouth and your lower lips.

You were expecting and fearing a lot tonight but hadn’t accounted for your groom licking your newly-shaved privates.  It’s shocking enough that it takes you a moment to understand how nice it feels.  You pant and squirm, your moans pulled out of you with each swipe of his tongue along your slit, each flicker of it against your bud.

“Oh!” you manage, incapable of saying anything else as your thighs shake and you wish he had hair that you could bury your fingers in as he laps at you.

When the heat of it really starts to build and your whines start sounding more desperate, the very core of you slick along his lips and tongue is when he stops.  It’s all a means to an end and as far as he’s concerned he’s done more than enough to prepare you. 

He ignores your whimper of protest as he pulls away and props himself up above you again, taking inventory of your flushed face and chest, your parted and kiss-swollen lips.

Good, you’re ready, he seems to think.  He lines himself up, and your breath hitches as you shut your eyes.

“Keep ‘em open,” he says immediately, and you relent, gazing up at a pair of eyes that glint nearly silver, pupils wide.

The blunt head of him is wide, and you realize that the preparation, his fingers and tongue, weren’t enough to ease the passage.  He’ll tear you open.  He watches your face and the growing panic in your eyes and presses forward.

Fear is the mind-killer.  It is the little–

The first press of him knocks the air out of your lungs in a sob.  You lurch up, clutching at his back as your inner thighs clench around his sides as he thrusts in the first couple of inches.  You squirm around him, shifting, hoping to get unstuck like you’re a worm on a hook.  He just pushes in deeper with a grunt, his hand clutching your hip to keep you still so he can bury himself within you the rest of the way.

It hurts, you want to protest, as if he can’t tell already.  As if he doesn’t enjoy how he’s skewering you onto him.

You’ve been in worse pain than this.  Remember when you broke your arm when you were nine?  If it weren’t for the fact that you’ve never felt more vulnerable in your life to the most frightening man you’ve ever met who–you hope–is now fully inside of you, you’d almost laugh.

Virgin sex: not as painful as breaking an arm.

You dig your nails in.  Feyd-Rautha gives a breathless laugh and a sharp thrust that has you crying out and digging your nails in deeper.

“Does my little pet want to get her claws in me?” he says, the first time he’s spoken in several minutes.  You try to relax your hands, just gripping onto his back.  “I didn’t say ‘stop,’” he adds.

He likes pain, the Reverend Mother told you.

Well, alright, then.

You grit your teeth and scratch down the length of his back.  He groans, a rumble deep in his chest before pulling out nearly to the tip of him and pushing all the way back in again.  It helps, in a way, the feeling of reciprocating the pain.  The difference is that you’re barely tolerating it, but he’s enjoying it.  He seems to like the pressure of your kneecaps digging into his sides, the nails down his back.

Curiosity strikes and you reach up and pull him down close enough to bite down on his collarbone and he gasps, hips stuttering for a moment, a moan pulled out of him before he resumes thrusting into you with deeper rolls of his hips.

You’re not sure when the moment happens that you start to adjust, the sting of it fading to a sore stretch.  You still feel impossibly full, but the ache of it feels like a minor tear, not like you’ve just been split in half.  

It’s soon after that he draws the first real moan out of you since before he entered you and it gives you pause; the stroke of his hips had been just right, you’d tilted yours in just a way that actually felt good in a way that tugged at your insides.  After a moment he tries again and you can’t help but make the same noise, holding onto him as the push and pull of his thrusts finally starts to feel right, like an act that’s natural rather than a punishment.

It’s then that he pulls out, and you yelp in shock; you were only starting to get adjusted to having him inside of you and he hasn’t spilled his seed yet.  You barely have time to understand what’s happening as he flips you onto your front and hauls you up, grabbing your hips.

It feels like another invasion, the angle tighter.  You won’t be able to hold onto him or take your pain out on him.  You scramble to get your forearms under you as he well and truly starts fucking you.  You hadn’t realized that he’d been holding back at all.

You do realize, though, that he not only tolerates your hair but likes it, when he wraps your tresses around his hand and sharply tugs like your hair’s a harness.  You can’t help any of the desperate noises that you make, shaking, as you’re repeatedly pulled back onto his cock.  The heat of tears builds in your eyes as you lower your head, only for him to tug it back by your hair. 

You give another cry, which spurs him on.  Pleasure, pain, it seems like it’s all the same to him so long as he can keep pulling desperate sounds out of you.  He speeds up, goes harder, the snap of his hips against your ass loud to the point of obscene within the echoes of his room.

And then you feel it, warm and viscous inside of you as he gives a choked moan, grunting as he thrusts into you one last time and holds still, his hands still on your hips.  You gasp, freezing, before moaning even though you're not entirely sure if you like the sensation of it or not.

You feel him pull away from you and twist onto your back, your legs bent to avoid colliding with him, as he kneels on the edge of the bed and wipes his bloody cock off on the sheets.

You catch your breath as you bring a hand against your forehead, trying to think.

It’s done; you got through it. 

He turns to look at you, at your parted lips, your breasts rising and falling as your breath evens out, your inner thighs where a small smear of blood remains, and wordlessly brings a thumb to the tacky skin there.

You blink, eyes widening as he looks you in the eye and licks off the already-drying blood.  He tilts his head, still looking between your legs, when his fingertips slide against your slit, collecting both a little blood and a dribble of his seed that leaked out of you.  Without a word he settles back over you and brings his fingers to your lips.

You try to think about what he’d want from you at this moment, and all that comes to mind is to mirror him.  You try to shut out the part of you that feels revulsion at the sight and the smell and part your lips.  

You can’t look away from him as he presses the calloused pad of his thumb on your lips and pushes further, onto your tongue.  You want to flinch away at the salt of your blood mixed with the viscous salt of his seed, but with his other hand he cups your jaw.  His movements could be seen as gentle and if he were a different man this act could be seen as intimate, but no, not with him.  He’s trying to humiliate you, you’re sure.  Because he then says, quietly, “Close your mouth,” and you hesitate, face heating up with shame, before you do.

For a moment you want to pull back and spit the mixture back out into his face.  There must be a flicker of that want in your eye because he tilts his head in a silent challenge.

Go on.  Try it, he seems to say.

You want to, but you do the opposite, the new goal to be to catch him off-guard again.  You force yourself to taste the residue from both of your bodies off his fingers.  You lick delicately around the digits and watch his eyes widen just a fraction.  You do it again, slowly, realizing that you’ve surprised him again.

He pulls his fingers out, his full lips parted.

“Don’t swallow,” is all he says before crushing his mouth against yours. 

You didn’t think you were ignorant, but you don’t fully understand what this is, what it’s called, why he’s enjoying it so much.  It’s a tool you think you might have but don’t have any frame of reference for and aren’t sure how to use as he groans as the liquids merge between you in a desperate open-mouthed kiss.  You just know that you’re learning enough to keep him interested.  He lays fully against you, and you have enough time to think that his chest feels nice pressed up against yours before he reaches in between your legs to feel the puffy, bruised apex where he’d buried himself.

Is he already getting aroused again?  

You get your answer when he flips you onto your stomach for the second time and pulls your hips up just enough for him to settle behind you.  For a moment you lurch forward, away from his grip but of course he pulls you back.  Alarm sets in.  I need time.  I’m still recovering from the first time you split me open.  You hear yourself whine as he slides his rapidly-stiffening cock in between your tender folds as if to plead for his mercy.  He doesn’t grant it, moaning at the desperate sound.  You realize that he’s working himself the rest of the way in his own hand before pressing it back up against you and pushing inside of you in one sharp thrust.

In some ways it’s easier; you’re sufficiently stretched out at this point to take him inside of you, and the combination of blood and semen’s added second and third coats of lubrication.

But then he’s rougher; there’s no preamble, no brief moments of letting you adjust to the intrusion.  He goes hard and fast on your torn and bruised insides, and this time he doesn’t say a word.  All you hear are beast-like grunts as he pulls you onto him.

Just finish.  Please just finish and get it over with, you think as your cries become hoarse, and then nothing more than pathetic whimpers.  That in itself seems to spur him on, how much he’s wearing you out and taking you to the very limits of what you can handle. 

You collapse the rest of the way onto your front, panting and sweaty, and you shut your eyes when you can sense he’s almost done, shuddering as his thrusts become more erratic and he finally–thankfully–comes, filling you up a second time and you could cry with the relief of it.

He holds on for a moment, as if trying to make sure as much of him as possible stays inside of you as he settles down, his front against your back, his breath against the nape of your neck.  And then he pulls out and you wonder if this is how it feels when a person who’s just been stabbed feels the knife leave their body right before you sense him turn and fall onto his back against the sheets.

You remain on your front,  the side of your face resting on your forearm as you just don’t have it in you to move again.  You just hope that Feyd-Rautha’s finally done for the night.  You turn your head to the other side to look at him and confirm.

His penis looks a lot less intimidating when it’s soft and resting against his thigh.  You watch his chest rise and fall and briefly think about running a hand over it, and long the ridges of his abdomen even as you can’t say you’re proud of yourself for the instinct.  He just seems almost docile now, reclining on his back, after he’s rutted inside of you twice. It's almost like wanting to pet a sedated dog that had been trying to bite you.  You watch him raise one leg slightly, enough to bend his knee, and you notice more scars along his inner thigh that are even paler than the rest of him.  They don’t look recent, but not as old as the ones on his back.

He turns his head and looks at you, and reaches out, bringing a hand to your backside, lazily caressing a cheek before bringing his palm down in a hard smack.  He smirks at how the soft flesh jiggles and at your responding yelp.

“It was right there,” he says by way of explanation.  You’re tired enough that you can’t help but snicker as you keep your head pillowed on your forearms and try to focus on the softness of the sheets under you rather than the unrelenting ache between your legs.  You look at each other, him likely surveying the damage as you catalog him in what is probably the closest he ever gets to a relaxed state.

“Can you stand?” Feyd-Rautha asks after a moment.

You’re not entirely sure you can move your legs.  “In a moment, maybe,” you admit.

“Then take a moment,” he says.  “Then you can call your girl to take you back to your quarters.”

You get up on your forearms to get a better look at him.  “You’re sending me away?” you ask.  You don’t mean the hurt tone in your voice.  Not that you even want to stay the night, but his dismissal feels insulting.  You’re the one whose insides are sore and bleeding, after all.  Is he not even going to give you more time to recover and just relax here?  Maybe kiss you one last time?  

“It’s more practical if I do,” he says.  “I’ll be up a few hours before you tomorrow.”  His tone is so matter-of-fact that any trace of intimacy over the past couple of minutes dissipates into thin air and you remember who you’re with.

“Right.”  You look over at your clothes on the dresser.  You wince at the effort, but turn to your side and sit up facing away from him.  You can feel his stare burning into your back.

You wince as you sit forward and try to get your limbs to coordinate with you as you shift your legs.

You look down at the sheets and wonder if Feyd-Rautha’s going to have someone come in to clean them immediately after you leave.

No, you realize.  He’ll have someone come in to put down new ones, certainly, but he’ll be holding on to the bloodied sheets.  They’ll serve as a trophy, proof that he deflowered the heiress to the House of Y/H.

You don’t look back at your new husband as you get up, shakily at first, needing to hold onto the bed to stabilize you.

You need to walk gingerly, and the feel of Feyd-Rautha watching your discomfort makes it worse.  You feel tears build again, this time from anger.  You think to yourself that you might’ve been able to handle everything else tonight better if he were a little kinder to you afterwards, and gave you something to temper the roughness as he’d prepared you beforehand.  And here he is smugly watching the pain you’re in because of him, congratulating himself on how he wrecked your virgin cunt.

This is fucking undignified.  I’m part of a Major House, too, you think as you pull on your chemise and step into your slippers.  Finally you’ve decided that you’re not going to let this insult pass and turn to him.  He’s sitting up, his knees drawn up and his arms wrapped loosely around them as he watches you and that somehow makes it even worse.  “Is this amusing for you?” you demand, thinking, Of course it is, you stupid girl.  He and his kind get off on this sort of thing.

He looks neither embarrassed nor smug, but leans forward a little as he considers you.  “You did well tonight,” he says. 

“Thank you, Na-Baron,” you say coldly as you reach for your robe.  

“I like it when you call me husband,” he adds, and you glance back at him.  “That’s what you should call me when we’re alone together.”

You look at him a moment longer.  You realize that this is just about the closest he can get to being kind to you, at least tonight.  Whatever tenderness he’d shown when he first touched you was to serve his own purpose.  Now that he’s taken what he wants there’s nothing else to give you.  It’s not even intentional cruelty on his part, you don’t think.  It’s just the absence of everything else.

With a resigned sigh you pull on your robe and give him a curt nod.  “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, husband,” you tell him, pad over to the door, and open it just far enough to see Idrisa standing post just outside.  You head into the hallway and shut the door behind you without another word or glance backwards.

“How much of that were you able to hear?” you ask her.  

She tries to spare you.  “The walls are thick, Na-Baroness,” she says, and you’re even more grateful for the short distance to your chambers than you’d been before.

At your bedside you notice that there’s a jug of water and a glass, then beside them a dish.  You head for it to inspect closer and it turns out there are two small white tablets.  You turn to look at her.

Idrisa shrugs one shoulder.  “Part of the benefits of being promoted to your attendant,” she says.  “I felt it would be safer to take precautions and assume you’d need pain relief after…” she trails off, realizing there is no polite way to say getting fucked hard for the first time by a man who delights in your pain and just repeats, “after.  I spoke with a Healer who agreed that it would be safer to plan for that.”

As you reach for a tablet she adds quickly, “I wouldn’t take more than half if I were you.”

You pause, the tablet to your mouth.  “Why?” you ask.

She hesitates.  “I wasn’t sure how severe your pain would be afterwards,” she says.  “I really didn’t know how to predict so I requested two tablets.  Looking at you now, half a tablet should suffice.”

You look down at the dish and then back at her.  Just how badly did you think tonight would go for me? you want to ask, but then realize that there are some questions you don’t actually want answers to.  

You smile at her in gratitude, snap the tablet in half, and wash it down with the offered water.  “Will it help me sleep?” you ask.

She inclines her head in the affirmative.  “Now let’s get you cleaned up and ready for bed,” she says.  

“It’s alright.  I can handle the rest myself,” you tell her.

Her brow furrows and she frowns.  “It’s my duty to look after you,” she says.  

“I understand, but right now I need to be alone,” you tell her.

She looks nervous, as if her dismissal is some kind of failure on her part and something for which she’ll be punished later.

“You’ve done a great job,” you tell her.  “But the best way to take care of me tonight is to let me do this myself.”

“Whatever you wish, Na-Baroness,” she says finally.  “Good night, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

……………..

You pad over to the bathroom and a minute later find yourself sitting on the edge of your bathtub with a warm, wet towel in one hand as you inch up the hem of your chemise with the other.  

You wince at the first press of the towel against your tender skin.  You don’t want to look directly at the damage, wishing you still had hair down there to obscure some of it.  You shut your eyes as you wipe around your inner thighs.  You wipe directly between your legs and the sharp bite of the pain makes you briefly double over.  After a moment you look down at the used towel; there’s not as much blood as you thought, as it feels like it was spilled out of you, but you’re going to have to wring it out and start over if you want to feel clean.  Maybe you won’t feel clean again.

The reality of it all hits you, sharply, and you feel like you’ve been stabbed and a part of you realizes that the worst is yet to come.

For the first time since finding out you would be linked to Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, you break down and cry.

[cryscendo]

For the fic ask, can I request one you wanted to write and weren't asked? Klaine, please! ♥

oooooh boy, you really opened up the floodgates with this one. I decided to go super angsty because i just really needed to get this out there. this takes place around the time of “the quarterback” and i went with the prompt “things you didn’t say at all”

i hope you enjoy and sorry in advance for the heartbreak :’(

Pairing: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson

Word Count: 1599

Rating: T

Prompt: 5 - things you didn’t say at all

Warning: mentions of canon character death as a main plot point (references to The Quarterback)

if you would like to request a prompt, you can do so here.

Fic can be read under the cut

Finn’s death was hard on Kurt.

Make no mistake, it was hard on everyone. After watching Santana break down in the middle of the choir room, Blaine was truly able to see just how much this was taking a toll on his friends. Grief was shared amongst everyone who knew Finn, and it made it difficult to even pretend to be okay.

But Kurt… Kurt was suffocating with it. Every moment since his arrival back in Ohio for the funeral had been filled with this poisonous cocktail of emotions.

Kurt didn’t discuss this situation, at least not directly. He more so just tiptoed around the issue, and his words were like a children’s game of telephone where the original words get completely altered and warped, but the overall message is understood.

Blaine watched Kurt as his fiancé tried on no less than twelve different outfits for the funeral. They ranged from black to gray to navy, and he even tried his hand at adding a bit of deep plum. He looked gorgeous in all of them. None of them were good enough for Finn's funeral.

“This isn’t right either,” Kurt said, already moving to undo his tie. It was a sleek thing with very subtle, barely there gold-stitched accents. “Too flashy.” It really, truly wasn’t, but Blaine wasn’t about to argue.

“Maybe do the black suit with the plum sweater? Just forgo the tie completely.” Blaine knew that the problem wasn’t a tie. But Kurt wasn’t talking about what the actual problem was. “I’ll match to you.”

Kurt gave himself a long, hard look in the mirror before him. Blaine didn’t think that he would respond at all. That was until he eventually sighed and turned back towards Blaine. “Let’s try it, then.”

And so it goes.

The funeral ended without incident. Kurt actually agreed to Blaine’s outfit suggestion, which only further proved to Blaine that Kurt was, definitively, not doing well. Because if he was, there would’ve been a bit more scrutiny on Blaine’s choice of textile combinations, as well as how it affected the overall silhouette. He looked great of course, but it was also clear that he wore it not because he was actually in love with the outfit, but because he needed to pick something and allowing Blaine to make the decision took some of the pressure off of him.

Kurt didn’t talk much during the service. He did stand up and give a brief speech, which Blaine was grateful for — even if it felt a bit like Kurt was saying only a fraction of what he wanted to say.

They sat in Kurt’s bedroom a day or two later. Burt and Carole weren’t home, having needed to take care of a few things. They offered for Kurt and Blaine to join them, but Kurt turned the offer down on both of their behalfs. This seemed to disappoint Burt, but Blaine wasn’t interested in going against the wishes of his clearly grief-stricken fiancé.

So they stayed home. And Kurt once again did not speak much.

Eventually though, dinner came around, and Blaine had to make an effort to at least get Kurt to eat something (he has always been on the smaller side, but ever since Kurt moved to New York, Blaine got the sense that he prioritized things like work and school over eating). He brought Kurt a bowl of pasta up to his room — it was left over from the reception catering; Blaine wasn’t exactly the cook in the relationship.

While Kurt accepted the food, he made no move to actually eat it. Instead, he wordlessly spun his fork around inside the bowl, picking up noodles only to let them slip back off the utensil uselessly. He repeated this motion for several minutes until Blaine finally stopped him.

“Not hungry, honey?” Blaine asked, dragging Kurt’s attention back to reality.

Kurt’s eyes flickered up to Blaine’s face for a moment before peering back down towards the pasta, which up to that point had been virtually untouched. “Oh, yeah, I guess not.”

“You really need to eat.” Kurt hadn’t hardly eaten anything since the reception, and even then he grazed more than actually ate. That wasn’t entirely his fault, though. It was hard for Kurt and his parents to get much time to eat when people kept approaching them to express their condolences directly. It was well-meaning each and every time, but Blaine could see that it was taking a lot for Kurt to not tell people to ‘please leave me the fuck alone’. He was wound so tight that one wrong word could’ve easily made him snap.

“I know,” he confirmed. But rather than actually take a bite of his food, he set the bowl down on the mattress between them. Okay. Food wasn’t going to happen right now. That’s fine.

“Kurt, are you going to be okay?” He asked even though he sensed that he already knew the answer. Kurt was strong, powerful, resilient. But beyond that, he was still human.

“Yep,” Kurt responded directly. “Gotta keep on keeping on, y’know? Work and school aren’t going to wait for me forever. So I have no choice but to be okay.”

It was a reasonable enough answer, but Blaine knew it wasn’t what Kurt was feeling. This brave face that Kurt was putting on wasn’t him being honest with himself. Kurt has dealt with more loss than someone his age has any right to. His mother was first, and now Finn. And all the while, his own father was still in a balancing act with his own health and Blaine knew how much that worried Kurt.

Blaine knew he should’ve just left well enough alone, but that wasn’t really his style.

“It’s okay to not be okay, Kurt,” Blaine gently reminded. Kurt clearly didn’t want the reminder.

“You’re not going to lecture me into discussing my feelings. I won’t. I’m fine. And even if I’m not, that’s not going to bring Finn back, now is it?” Kurt put in great effort to make his words come out collected, but his own emotions worked to betray him. “So I’d be wasting my time weeping over something like this when it’s not going to change a single thing.”

“I know that, but please just listen, okay?” Blaine didn’t hold Kurt’s emotions against him. Asking someone to be entirely pleasant after undergoing severe loss was an unreasonable request. All he wanted was for Kurt to hear him for a moment. And with the way that Kurt fell silent, it seemed like he was willing to try.

“Nobody’s asking you to be fine,” Blaine began, moving both of their bowls to Kurt’s nightstand so that he could sit closer to his partner. “All I’m asking is that you be honest with yourself. Everyone can see how hard this has been on you; it’s not exactly a secret.” In response to Blaine’s words, Kurt looked away from him, instead choosing to examine his fingernails. It was artificial distance, not making eye contact. Blaine continued on regardless. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on inside your head, but just know that whatever it is, you’re allowed to feel it.”

Kurt didn’t respond, but the way that he bit anxiously at his lower lip told Blaine that he was at least listening. That was good at least, that he was attentive to what Blaine was saying to him.

Blaine continued, reaching down to hold Kurt’s hand in his, his thumb swiping instinctively over Kurt’s engagement ring. Kurt watched the motion and sucked in a shaky breath. Kurt didn’t need to say what he was thinking at that moment; Blaine already knew — Finn was never going to be able to see Kurt get married, or even be married himself.

“I don’t think you’ve let yourself feel much of anything since it happened. You didn’t even cry at the funeral.” Kurt tensed, but didn’t pull away. Blaine continued. “I’m not saying you have to talk about it. I’m not saying you have to pour your heart out to the first person who is willing to listen. All I’m saying is that you need to let yourself be not okay. If you go back to New York and pretend nothing’s wrong, I’m scared it’s going to eat you alive. I don’t want that for you.”

Blaine fell silent after that, now only watching Kurt’s face as he continued to stare down at their joined hands. Seconds bled into minutes of wordlessness, and Blaine was beginning to worry that everything he had just said was going to be discarded.

That is, until Kurt’s eyes turned glassy with tears.

“Kurt?” Blaine asked and was immediately followed by silent tears streaming in heavy drops down Kurt’s face. “Shit, Kurt…”

Blaine hugged Kurt close then and Kurt didn’t even try to turn it down. Kurt’s arms were tight around Blaine as if he was afraid that if he let Blaine go, he’d disappear. The room was silent save for the soft sounds of Kurt’s broken gasps as wept quietly into Blaine’s shoulder. It tore at Blaine’s heart, hearing those sounds come from Kurt, his one true love, who somehow unjustly is regularly the victim of tragedy.

Kurt never did end up saying all the things that he had locked up inside his head, but that was okay. He didn’t need to. His actions were loud enough that Blaine understood them as if he were reading them from a book. If Kurt never discussed this again, that would be okay too.

The message was already clear enough.

[403tarot]

hellong

i've thought for a while before making this post. if you're not a regular follower, i don't think it makes sense to read, but if you follow me and keep up with my posts, i ask you to read just to know some information regarding the functioning of the blog from now on.

i created this blog because i wanted to combine training my reading skills with my love for k-pop. and that's still true for me; i'm not here to be a people pleaser, a famous tarot reader, or be seen as the ultimate truth. i just want to showcase my work, practice, and gossip about K-pop.

lately, i've been making a lot of NSFW posts, and i want to say that this will continue to happen, potentially increasing. i even thought about creating a separate blog just for NSFW posts based on tarot, but then i thought, "why should i do that when 403tarot is MY blog, my space, and there i can post whatever i want? who am i trying to please by doing that?"

and i don't want to please anyone. i am of legal age, the idols for whom i create NSFW content are of legal age (yes, they are not your little meow meow), and the audience for my content in general is for adults. besides, tarot is a game. nothing that any tarot reader says is necessarily true or false; it's just how a person interprets answers to questions posed to 78 cards of paper.

"i don't think xyz idol acts the way you described" okay! take what i wrote as fanfiction then, imagine that they act that way and have fun. learn how to enjoy things without taking it weirdly too deep. i know some see tarot as something sacred, but in my view, it's just 78 cards made for my entertainment. for me, it's a mere game, and i'll always treat it that way. if you don't like it, and my perspective bothers you to the point of being hateful, you can unfollow me.

i say this because some of you have become too brave in sending me rude asks while hiding behind an anonymous filter. i don't care... i don't know who made you believe that you are SO important, but i'm here to tell you that it's not true. i don't care if you don't think tarot should be used for NSFW or that my readings aren't good enough. i put disclaimers in all my posts, and in none of them do i remember mentioning that i need anyone's approval.

however, anonymous asks are now permanently prohibited. you can tell me hateful things through ask but at least have the decency to show your username while doing so. from there, you can have fun and say whatever you want! you'll probably be ignored, but i know some don't get attention from their parents and therefore feel the need to seek it from strangers on the internet.

briefly speaking, please don't flood the ask. i know it's crucial to know if your idol is dating someone or if the woman he's going to marry is a foreigner, but if you've sent the same ask three times, rest assured i saw it. sometimes i just didn't find it interesting, wasn't in the mood to accept or i don't like the guy. anyway, check the upcoming posts on my pinned to make sure, and don't forget that if you're not paying me anything i'm not a employee of yours.

in summary, i will continue to do whatever i want on my blog, and if that bothers you, the door is open for you to peacefully leave. i've developed affection for some blogs that are frequently here in reblogs and notes, and you are the majority, so know that i like you sooo much and this post is directed at a small fraction of people only.

if you've read this giant text and made it this far, i hope you have a great day/night. 🦆

[orangedodge]

Okay, another few questions:

1, how old were the original five X-Men at their introduction? 2, how old were they (OG team) when Banshee and the other "new X-Men" joined Cyclops in stopping Krakoa? And 3, how old were the original five when M-Day happened?

Sorry, these are details I just want to know for myself. Hope you don't mind the questioning, and keep up the good work!

According to [Uncanny] X-Men #1, Bobby Drake was sixteen when the team made its public debut. Furthermore he describes himself as a "couple" of years younger than his friends. We also know that Hank is somewhat older than Scott, Warren, and Jean. So, the short answer to your first question is: Bobby is 16, Warren, Scott, and Jean are 18, and Hank is probably 18 or 19.

It's not specifically clear whether Bobby is literally two years younger, or if "couple" is being used in a more figurative sense. I think it's safe to take at face value though, given that he is clearly presented as a member of their age cohort (along with Lorna and Alex); is meant to be reasonably close to the same age as Peter Parker and Johnny Storm (who should also be in the same general range as the original X-Men, as they were all teenagers at the same time); and lastly when Claremont revived the X-Men publication years later, Bobby was depicted as now comfortably a young adult, finishing up his accounting degree, at the same time that Jean was dealing with her first job drama, and Warren was off with the family business.

I also think it's safe to guess Hank is no more than a year older than the others. He's treated as a peer of his teammates rather than as a helper to the Professor, and seems comfortable as a member of the group even outside of X-Men training. Hank's more advanced academic pursuits with respect to his teammates are also shown to be a product of his intelligence and not simply him being in a more senior class, which I think furthermore point to him being loosely their age.

Later authors have occasionally given different ages to the first team, or at least to Scott. Bendis, who wrote them for the longest, identifies the younger Scott as sixteen when he first comes face to face with his modern counterpart (Uncanny X-Men volume 3 no. 12). In Matt Fraction's inexplicably titled Dark Avengers/Uncanny X-Men: Exodus, Scott gives a televised speech in which he claims to have joined the X-Men at age 15. And in Stuart Moore's X-Men Origins Cyclops, Scott is shown to have first met Charles when he was 17 (which works), but he also dates X-Men #1 as taking place when Scott was 21 (which contradicts every other version of the story).

I think it makes the most sense to just go with the original story, and take 18 as the team's median age. I think you could also just as well argue that the 15-17 number isn't in contradiction per se, but only reflects Scott's age when Charles started training him, or even when he first became Cyclops, and not his age in X-Men #1 when Jean joined the team and they confronted Magneto for the first time.

I know some fans also feel that the Bendis' run discounts the possibility that they're in their late teens, because he writes them so young, but I think that's kind of ridiculous. Bendis writes everyone like that, and in any case people are basically the same at 14 as they are at 34, so how much more mature does anyone get from 16 to 18, really?

I think having them remain (mostly) at 18+ is the most plausible reading of the original run, and the most consistent with their general dislike of Charles recruiting actual child soldiers in later classes, and as well with Marvel's editorial policy that the X-Men have existed for ten years in-universe in perpetuity and are now just shy of 30.

Second question: Their ages later on, when the All-New, All-Different team first formed aren't given directly, but they're easy to work out.

So, at time of first death, Jean was 24ish depending on when her birthday falls in the year. Scott and Warren are the same age, Bobby is two years younger, and Hank is probably around 1 year older.

How much time passes between Jean's introduction to Storm, Thunderbird, Wolverine, Banshee, etc and her death isn't specified, and during his first run, Claremont tried to maintain a pretense of everything occurring in real time, but already it had started to become untenable and can't be trusted.

At the time of Jean's death, the core Claremont trio of Storm, Wolverine, and Nightcrawler are still very early in getting to know each other as people, despite spending a lot of time together on page. So I think it's very likely that only a few months have passed between the new recruits joining the team and when Jean died and the remaining original X-Men make their departure. So I would just treat the Dark Phoenix Saga as taking place in the same year as the first mission to Krakoa, with Jean/Scott/Warren remaining 24 throughout.

Third question: To get to their ages at M-Day, I need to do something cataclysmically stupid. Something that I always tell everyone to never do when talking about the X-Men: I have to talk about how old Kitty Pryde was. She who has had three separate, non consecutive, fifteenth birthdays; and she who, famously, began the 1990s three years older than Jubilee, but still managed to end the decade two years younger than her. But, for once, bringing her into things is going to make everything else make more sense.

In X-Treme X-Men we're told directly that Kitty joined the X-Men five years ago. This is useful to know, because she joined the team on the exact same day that Jean died, so it has also been 5 years since that happened. X-Treme X-Men takes place at the same time as New Mutants volume 2, later to be relaunched as New X-Men: Academy X, which documents the first academic year of the Xavier School post its outing as a mutant boarding school. The two books ran parallel to one another and reference the same events in the lives of the original New Mutants.

Academy X concludes during the House of M crossover itself, and with the depiction of the typical US/Canadian school dances, and the inclusion of a year book issue, I think it's reasonable to conclude that the entire Academy X era takes place over about one full school year. So adding that together, M-Day should fall around 6 years after Jean's first death, making her, Scott, and Warren around 29-30, Hank 30-31, and Bobby 27-28.

If you want corroboration while also having the chance to experience a desperate urge to kick something, here's a cropped out section of the House of X/Powers of X timeline.

My version has a type mistake, where years 49 and 50 were incorrectly reversed. Genosha should be year 50, and Moira's "death" at 49. (IIRC later print editions fixed this) M-Day and Decimation would happen in year 51. The Year 47 event references the storyline beginning in Jim Lee's X-Men #1, and so the formation of the Claremont X-Men would likely be in Year 45 or 46. Scott and co being 30ish at Year 52, and working backwards...It actually all kind of lines up?

Which I hate! I hate that it works. It forces you to accept that everything after M-Day occurs over the course of just one single year. And it's so annoying that it's actually kind of possible, when you remember how much everyone loved decompressed storytelling in those days, and subsequently how almost nothing actually happened for a decade and a half of comics. But still! That's so ridiculous! Why do they do this!

Hope that helps! Thanks for the ask.

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

Half-Life | Chapter 5 Teaser

Here is a teaser for chapter 5. It has been like a year and a half since I last updated Half-Life, my god. My life has changed so much in that time (I graduated college, had health issues I'm still dealing with, struggled to find a job in my field so I'm now a nanny, had a breakup after being on and off for 6 years), but I was always going to come back to this story. If nothing major changes, once I finish this chapter, I will officially be halfway finished with this fic!

Masterlist

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

Leon woke before you did, curled around Wolfie’s sleeping form. He stilled for a moment when he came to, the events of the previous night rushing back to him.

To ease his worry, he listened for Wolfie’s heartbeat to greet his keen ears. He let out a sigh of relief when the dog’s heart pattered strong and slow in his slumber, his rib cage expanding with a deep breath.

Leon then sat up, looking over to find you asleep on the couch in the same position he left you. You looked so peaceful, so serene. So beautiful.

Before he could stop himself, he crawled over to kneel next to your blanket-covered body and reached out his claws tentatively, stroking your hair that had fallen into your face. You stirred slightly but you didn’t wake, letting out a soft exhale. His palm remained where it laid upon the side of your head for a moment before he finally retracted it, knowing he was pushing his luck touching you like that.

He cringed when the memory of how he had gotten off to the thought of you came unbidden to his mind, a grimace forming on his monstrous face.

He didn’t deserve you, in any capacity, and that was more apparent now than ever after all you had done for him in the short time you’d been in his life.

For a moment, he considered what he might do if he were still human, if he had met you under normal circumstances—a world where he could ask you on a date, where he could kiss you freely, where he could give you even a fraction of what you’d given him.

He should’ve known better than to dwell on what-ifs. This was his reality: a lonely, miserable existence where he was this terrifying creature trapped within the confines of this abandoned village, and that was never going to change.

While still lost in his thoughts, you awoke, blinking at him to clear your bleary eyes.

“Hey…” you started, reaching out to touch his shoulder, the feeling of your warm hand soaking through the fabric of his shirt.

“Hey,” he replied, voice rough. “You sleep okay?”

“As well as anyone can on a sofa, I guess,” you responded with a quiet laugh. “Did you pass out on the floor?”

“Yeah, but I’m used to it.” Leon shrugged to dispel the sternness in your tone. “Besides, I wanted to be right next to Wolfie in case anything happened.”

Your expression seemed to soften at that, offering a small smile. “Makes sense. Hope you got some rest, at least. You needed it.”

Leon simply nodded in confirmation, silence falling over you as you both looked at Wolfie.

You got up slowly from the sofa, stretching out and popping your aching limbs as a yawn overtook you. “We should change his bandages soon.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agreed distantly. You didn’t comment on his morose demeanor despite the furrow of your brows, and he was thankful.

The rest of the day was a quiet one, spent managing Wolfie’s injuries and cleaning up the mess made by the fiasco that was the previous night, mud and blood staining the floor and some of the furniture.

The rain returned as the sun began to set. You had both woken up well after noon due to your all-nighter, so there wasn’t much day left to be enjoyed anyway.

As you prepared yourself dinner, Leon ate the last of his fish and stirred a new fire in the hearth, the chill of yet another storm seeping into the room.

The relative silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. The both of you just simply had a lot on your minds.

However, you seemed to liven up after your meal, returning to your usual chipper self. Leon liked you better this way. You always managed to lift his spirits.

“So…” you drawled as the two of you sat beside each other on the sofa, heating up near the fire, “why don’t I read you something? You know, just to pass the time.”

Leon chuckled at that. “What did you have in mind? Not more of that crappy vampire novel, I hope.”

“Well, maybe I could read The Hunchback of Notre Dame? Oooh, or Frankenstein?” you teased him.

Leon rolled his eyes and scoffed in faux offense, the idea of you reading him tragic stories about monsters not appealing to him in the slightest. “Never mind, I’d rather stick to the stupid vampire book. Might actually lighten the mood.”

“Ah, you think teen angst is amusing, do you?” you replied with a playful grin as you retrieved the novel.

“Only when it’s this ridiculous.” He returned your grin, grateful to be out of his own head for a while.

You tucked your legs beneath you when you sat down once more, beginning to read aloud from where you last left off. Leon simply watched you from his periphery, appreciating the curve of your cheek, the slope of your nose, the way your mouth moved as you spoke. He realized then that you could have been reading a damn math textbook and he would be content to simply listen to your voice and rake his eyes over your plush form.

A couple hours had passed when you finally closed the book, setting it on the cushion beside you as you looked over at Leon.

“Thoughts?” you asked with an impish smirk.

“Still sucks,” came his blunt reply. “That Edward guy is a creep. Bella should be steering clear of him. Why anyone would think this is a cute love story is beyond me.”

You laughed, a tinkling sound that warmed him more than the rippling fire. “Aw, come on, Leon. Where’s your sense of romance?”

“Died off ten years ago, I imagine,” he scoffed, the sound rough and sharp.

He regretted his harsh, self-pitying quip when he glanced over at you, seeing the smile fall off your face, replaced with a remorseful expression.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” he interjected quickly, offering a wry grin. “Just a grouchy bastard these days.”

He felt relieved when your lips curved upwards once more, cursing himself internally for always ruining the moment with his wallowing, wondering how you could even put up with him.

“That does have me curious, though,” you started, looking almost sheepish. “Could I ask you a… personal question?”

“You can ask me whatever you want, I guess. Whether I answer is another thing altogether.” His eyes glinted playfully, though he braced for the inevitable discomfort of your probing.

“You said that you weren’t romantically involved with your friend Claire, right? But was there… someone else, maybe?”

Leon let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “You want to know my dating history, do you?”

“Only if you’re willing to indulge me,” you responded, gnawing your bottom lip in embarrassment.

The sight of your teeth pressing into the soft flesh had him momentarily distracted, but he cleared his throat, looking away as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, you could say there was… someone. It wasn’t… fuck, how do I even explain it?” he grumbled to himself. “Her name was—is—Ada. The thing between us was intense, but it never went anywhere. We always seemed to be working on opposite sides. Makes things complicated, I’m sure you can imagine.”

“That sounds hard,” you told him, offering a sympathetic nod. “Did… Did you love her?”

The question caught Leon off guard, and his face snapped up to look at you with furrowed brows. “I…” he began, but then stopped short, letting out a deep exhale. “I think maybe I did.”

“But you don’t anymore?”

Leon barked out a laugh, drawing his hand over his face in wry amusement. “What is with these questions? It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I guess not,” you replied softly, staring into the fire. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Leon huffed, elbowing you teasingly. “To answer your question… I don’t really know how I feel anymore. I mean, that was a lifetime ago. Thinking about it just dredges up a whole boatload of shit I’d rather keep below the surface, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” You gave him a small smile before you paused, looking away from him thoughtfully for a moment. “Maybe… I could find her for you?”

Leon balked at that. “And what good do you think would come from that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you two could rekindle, I guess,” you replied, looking cowed by his reaction. “If that would make you happy…”

His chest clenched at your words. Christ, you were so impossibly sweet—naive to a maddening degree at times, but sweet. The idea of you going out of your way to search for Ada Wong of all people was almost comical. But beyond that, Leon didn’t want Ada to come here. Not only because he was a monster—one she would probably try to kill—but because you were really all he cared about right now, in the present. The only one he really desired.

He wasn’t going to admit that last part aloud, so he stuck with the first when he responded, “Sweetheart, look at me. You really think I could have some heartfelt reunion like this? I appreciate the intention there, but you have to admit that it’s kinda…”

“Stupid?” you finished for him, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, maybe it is. I guess I forget that most people would freak out around you.”

“I think that’s an understatement,” he said with a light chuckle.

“I just thought… I don’t know… that if she felt the same way about you… it wouldn’t matter…”

“It wouldn’t matter?” he echoed, vexed by the very notion. “Of course it matters. No one in their right mind would just choose to look past this.” He gestured vaguely to himself. “This isn’t some disfigurement someone could accept… I’m not human anymore.”

“I’ve accepted you, haven’t I?” you asked quietly, a look of hurt crossing your precious features.

Leon let out a frustrated growl, closing his eyes. “Yeah, but you’re different. The world isn’t like you. And hell, maybe it should be, but it’s not. It’s violent, and it’s scary, and it’s ugly…” he paused for a moment, letting out a breath. “Like me.”

There’s a silence that stretched out between you after his outburst, and he refused to look at you, staring instead at the flickering flame licking the scorched stone of the hearth.

“You’re right,” you finally said. “I’m not like most of the world. But neither are you.”

He deigned to glance your way and called your name as if to argue, but you held up your hand to stop him.

“You’re not like them because you’re good, Leon,” you murmured, voice small but resolute. “You’re kind, and you’re loyal, and you’re fiercely protective. So I don’t agree with how you see yourself. Not one bit. And if the people you left behind care about you even a fraction of how much you still care about them, they wouldn’t either.”

He said your name again, this time more of a whisper, as he looked directly at you. His mouth went dry as he took in the determined set of your jaw, the fire in your eyes having nothing to do with the flames dancing before you. He didn’t know how to respond, only able to stare at you and wonder how he got lucky enough to have you in his life at all.

“And another thing,” you started, your features shifting into more of a teasing grin to ease the tension, “I don’t think you’re ugly.”

The guffaw that left Leon’s throat was nothing short of thunderous, surprising the both of you and startling Wolfie from where he lay on his dog bed.

“I’m serious!” you exclaimed, your voice earnest despite the smile on your face. “You’re very handsome. As far as cryptids go.”

“You might be the strangest woman I’ve ever met,” Leon responded, though there was only fondness in those piercing red eyes. “I don’t understand you, not one bit.”

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head in amusement. “Most people don’t.”

“Well… maybe I’d like to,” he murmured, the humor from the moment fading into something far more intimate. “Could you clue me in?”

You looked at him with a surprised expression, then glanced at the fire to collect your thoughts. “Yeah, sure. Okay…” There was a long pause before you started to speak again, voice low, “The truth is, I guess I know how you feel. To a degree. Feeling like an outcast, I mean. Being treated like a freak. I’ve always been… looked at funny. Between my weird personality and interests that most people think are annoying or creepy… and the fact I’m a bigger woman who lives in a world that believes being overweight is some kind of moral failing… I spent a lot of time alone as a child because of that. And as a teen, I never got to be seen as pretty or desired. I thought I was just… inherently broken, I guess. Unwanted. Unlovable.”

Leon felt a slow, simmering rage begin to bubble up inside him at the very notion of you being mistreated, especially for the things he found the most endearing about you. How anyone could look at you and not see an angel, he wasn’t sure.

Before he could interject, however, you continued on, “I know that’s not true now. I mean, I grew up, found people like me. I’ve had a few relationships. But… I know what it’s like to be lonely simply for being what you are.”

“You didn’t deserve that,” Leon muttered darkly. “All of those people were just blind idiots. For one, I think your personality is interesting.” He paused a moment, contemplating whether he should admit the next part before deciding to go ahead, “And I think you’re beautiful, too. As is.”

If Leon could snap a photo in his mind’s eye of how you looked in that moment—a bashful expression paired with a bright smile—he would keep it in his pocket to look at every day for the rest of his life. 

“Thank you, Leon,” you replied quietly.

“No need to thank me for being honest,” he responded with a noncommittal shrug. “And I appreciate you trying to relate to me. I can definitely see where you're coming from a bit better now. But I still gotta ask… Why chase after monsters specifically, huh?”

“I don't know… I guess it started when I first heard the urban legend of the Jersey Devil. A child born a monster, through no fault of his own, cast out by his family to haunt the woods forever… Maybe I seek out monsters not just because of the thrill, but because I empathize with them.”

“You might have a few screws loose, bunny,” Leon said, letting out a chuckle, “but you have a big heart.” He stopped, rubbing his clawed hand over his face wearily. “Doesn’t change the fact you’re tempting fate, though. You need to be more careful. Just ‘cause you feel for a monster, doesn’t mean it’ll feel for you.”

“You do.”

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Masterlist

[middleearthpixie]

Better Days ~ Chapter Eighteen

Dunraven Pub Series- Modern AU

A/N: It's been a long time since I last updated this - I hope some people still remember it... Anyway, school is winding down for the semester and so most of my fics should be updated on a more regular basis as a result. Thank you for your patience! 💜

Summary: Frerin Durin had the perfect life, until he found out his wife was cheating on him. Now, he’s navigating uncharted territory as an about-to-be divorced single dad. Dating is a mess, he’s dealing with the fallout where his kids are concerned, and really, he would just love a vacation away from all of it. 

Elena Madison is new to Sidleburg, and also navigating life as a newly single parent. The last thing she needed was for her daughter to come down sick, when she hasn’t even had time to unpack the moving boxes, never mind find a pediatrician. And the last thing she ever expected was to meet a man like Dr. Frerin Durin…

Neither Elena nor Frerin were looking for anything, but fate has a way of messing up even the best laid plans. However, both have been hurt and both aren't at all sure they trust themselves, never mind trusting someone else...

Pairings:  Modern!Frerin x ofc Elena Madison

Warnings: None

Rating: T 

Word Count: 4.5k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-mer-6195 @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep @court-jobi @masterofhounds @genius2050

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

Frerin groaned as he let his head thunk against his desk. “Again?”

“Sorry, Frerin, we’ve got three docs out with the flu.”

“Yeah, a likely story.” He picked his head up once more. “This is ridiculous, Jay, I spend more time in the ER than I do up here and I have to cancel plans with someone again.”

Jay Reese, Sidleburg’s chief of staff, nodded. “I know. I’m not happy about it, either, but we need docs down there.”

“I’m a pediatrician, Jay.”

“You still went to med school, didn't you? Look, it sucks and I know it sucks, but until the hiring freeze is lifted and we get actual warm bodies who know what they’re doing, we have to pick up the slack. I had plans, too, and I’ll be seeing patients down there as well.”

“Mine involved a gorgeous brunette I was planning to be naked with,” Frerin grumbled. “And now, I’ve got to cancel those plans—again, I’ll remind you—to work a double shift—again as well—in a department I’m only barely qualified to work in.”

“You’ve got an MD after your name. That’s more than barely qualified and kids come into the ER as well.”

“So, then let me get back to working on the pediatric ER. At least then it will make sense for me to be down there.”

Reese sighed, closing Frerin’s office door behind him. “Look, I’ll be honest with you, I don't see that getting off the ground any time soon. There just isn’t money in the budget for it. We’re trying to keep the doors open as it is and going to the board with an idea that will help the smallest of fractions of the population isn’t what they’re looking to okay right now.”

Frerin sat back in his chair, staring at Reese. “What if I can find the funds? I haven’t written a grant proposal since the dark ages, but I’ll do it if it means I have a decent reason to be down there. You should see the looks I get when a guy who comes in because he’s nearly taken a thumb off trying to change the cord on a weedwhacker realizes he’s got a pediatrician taking care of him. Unlike you, they don’t seem to realize I also went to med school.”

“They don't care what specialty you are, long as you’re a doc and you know it.” Reese skirted one of the two chars in front of Frerin’s desk to sink into it. “And honestly, you’re good down there, Frerin. Patients like you. The nurses like you. The students like you.”

“I’m not an ER doc and I have no desire to be one.”

“But you’re willing to open and run a pediatric ER.”

“That’s different. Look, Fritock is a jackass and I’m not answering to her. As long as I’m covering the ER, I don't have a choice. I run the pedes ER and I do have a choice. I’ll answer to you, but not her.”

“Yeah, no one likes her, but she’s competent and keeps that place running.” Reese rubbed his forehead and let out a low sigh. “So, can you cover Riley’s shift?”

“I don't have a choice, do I?”

“Sure you do. But say yes and I’ll see what else I can do about funding for the pedes ER.”

“That’s extortion, Jay.”

“I know. But we need you to cover the ER tonight. Your girlfriend just has to understand.”

“She already does, but damn… I was looking forward to tonight.”

“Just think of this as foreplay,” Reese said, rising from the chair. “The longer you make each other wait, the sweeter the payoff.”

“Get out of my office.”

“I owe you, you know.”

“Yes, you absolutely do!” 

Reese chuckled as he pulled the door closed behind him and Frerin swore softly beneath his breath as he overheard Reese flirting with Katie, as he did every time he came through the department.

“God damn it,” Frerin muttered, staring at his phone, lying face down on the corner of his desk blotter. The last thing he wanted to do was cancel on Elena again. 

With a low sigh, he reached for the phone and turned it over to toggle to his contacts, scrolling down until he reached her number, then tapped it. 

“Hey, I was just thinking about you.”

Elena’s purr sent a shiver along his spine even as his gut kinked. “What were you thinking, or do I not want to know?”

“Well, I was thinking about tonight. But,” a slight hesitation crept into her voice, “I have a bad feeling that tonight is in jeopardy.”

He leaned his head back, his eyes closing as he silently cursed out the irresponsible docs who thought nothing of calling out and left everyone else to pick up their slack for them. Christ, he was tired of it. “I’m sorry, honey, but—”

“You have to cover for someone in the ER again, don't you?”

Her voice was flat, which made his gut kink harder. Toni used to complain about the same thing. It was one of the constant sticking points in their relationship and the one that he couldn't fault her for having. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. But three docs called out and I’m here, so…”

“I understand,” she replied flatly. “Another time, then. It’ll keep.”

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but—”

“No, I get it, Frerin. You don't have to explain it.”

“I know you get it, and that’s what pisses me off,” he replied, drumming his fingertips against his desk. “Reese has me because he knows how important the pedes ER is to me and he uses it as leverage. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. But, I swear to you—”

“I know, and it’s okay. Like I said, it’ll keep for another time.”

“I’m sorry, Lena.”

“Don’t be. It comes with the territory.” She sighed softly. “Just give me a call when you do have a free day, I guess.”

His fingers went still. “Elena, you know I’d rather be seeing you tonight.”

“I know, but I also know that it’s silly to try to make any sort of plans because this seems to happen a lot. And I know it’s because you’re shorthanded and I know you don't have a lot of say in the matter, but it’s still aggravating as hell. So, before this devolves into a fight, just call me when you’re home and can actually get together, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll talk to you soon, then.”

“I hope so. Bye.”

She clicked off and he tossed his phone back onto the desk with a muttered, “Fuck,” and sank back in his chair again, staring up at the ceiling. 

“It’s always the same thing, Frerin! We make plans and you cancel because someone else decides they don't feel like coming in to work and I’m tired of it. Work always comes before me. Before me. Before the kids. Before everything. Always!”

Those words, or some variation of them, were all too familiar, as Toni lobbed them in his direction more than once. And there was definitely truth to them. He’d missed school plays, school field days, sporting events, dance or band recitals—you named it, he’d missed it because he’d gotten stuck at the hospital. 

 Toni begged him for years to go into private practice. He’d make twice the money and work half the hours. No weekends. No overnights. He’d have time for family. He’d have time for her.

Maybe if he had gone into private practice, neither one of them would have fucked around on the other one. Maybe if he made the change now, he could keep his relationship with Elena from falling apart. 

Maybe.

In his top desk drawer, he found the business card a colleague had given him last summer, at a conference on Maui. A private practice not far from Sidleburg had been looking for docs and maybe—just maybe—they still were.

He stretched for his phone again and dialed.

“Good morning, Hunterdon Pediatrics.”

“Good morning. Is Dr. Mendham in?”

“Oh, I’m afraid she’s out of the office today. Can I take a message or put you into her voicemail?”

“Voicemail, please.”

“One moment.”

He waited for the automated greeting to wind down, then said, “Hi, Emilia, it’s Frerin Durin over at Sidleburg Memorial. I was wondering if you were still in the market for another pediatrician. Just give me a call back at your earliest convenience and maybe we can work something out. My number is…”

Elena sighed as she stood in the doorway of her bedroom, scowling at the overnight bag sitting, all ready to go, on her bed. In it, were the makings of a romantic night that would hopefully knock Frerin’s socks off (along with whatever else he happened to be wearing at the time) as per the Book of Heather. Brand new lingerie that would be relegated to the back of her closet because somehow, she had the feeling she was not going to hear from Frerin any time soon.

Work. 

Work was always the excuse. Work was why Dan was always late or had to travel. Then she realized work meant fucking a coworker. 

But Frerin was different.

Wasn’t he?

She sighed, leaning her head against the doorjamb. Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. She was just such a poor judge of character when it came to men. She saw what she wanted to see as opposed to who the guy in question actually was.

She wanted to see Frerin as a decent guy, interested in more than just getting off.

She wanted to see him as relationship material—faithful and upfront with her. And interested in more than just getting off.

But at the same time, he had a very convenient reason ready-made and always believable. And he was a guy, so maybe he wasn't interested in more than just getting off.

How depressing.

How infuriating.

Another sigh and she moved to swipe the bag up from her bed and all but threw it into the closet, then slammed the door. It made her feel better, but only for a minute. When the initial sense of satisfaction faded, she realized she felt rather empty. She’d been looking forward to seeing him again, especially to seeing if Heather’s prediction would come true. 

But it wasn't meant to be. 

****

The ER was a madhouse. For the better part of twelve hours, Frerin did nothing but run from one exam room to another. A three car pileup on Route Nine. A Christmas tree fire that brought a family of five in with various degrees of burns and smoke inhalation. Two emergency deliveries—one a C-section to boot—and seven merry makers not quite ready to let go of the season who  drank bad egg nog and were now currently hunched over emesis basins puking their guts out.

By seven o’clock, Frerin wasn’t certain he’d remember his own name if anyone asked. He sank onto the sofa in the doctor’s lounge, head back, a coffee mug in one hand, and as his eyes closed, he muttered, “I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“Dr. Durin?”

“He’s not here.”

“You’re needed in Curtain Three.”

He lifted his head and opened his eyes to stare at Carol. “Are you kidding me? I just sat down. First time since four o’clock. Christmas is over, why are they all still coming through here full of egg nog and candy canes?”

“Because some people don’t want the season to end, Dr. Scrooge.” She moved to the counter where the Keurig was and opened the cabinet to take out a Krispy Kreme pod. “But, I promise you, this one isn’t throwing up. At least, not yet.”

He swallowed a mouthful of coffee. “Is it at least someone under eighteen?”

She nodded. “Twelve year old. Possibly appendicitis. A real, live pedes case for you.”

“Wonderful.” He pushed up from the sofa with a crinkle of what had to be thirty year old naugahyde, and bowed his back with a low groan before setting his cup on the table. “Curtain Three?”

“Yeah. Holly is waiting for you.”

“Thanks.” He tugged open the lounge door and maneuvered his way through the sea of bodies toward Curtain Three. 

He paused outside the closed drapes that acted as privacy walls. “Jessica Mauro?”

“Come in.”

He stepped around the curtains to find a pale and tired-looking preteen girl in the narrow bed, and an equally tired looking older blonde woman sitting next to it. He looked over at Holly. “This my rule-out appy?”

Holly nodded. “She has lower right quadrant pain and a temp of one-oh-one. No vomiting but she’s tender to the touch.”

“Okay. Let’s take a look.” He took the chart and perused it briefly, then set it on the tray table. “Hi, Jessica. I’m Dr. Durin. You’re not feeling so well?”

She shook her head. “I feel like crap, to be honest.”

“Jessie!” 

“Sorry, Mom.” 

Frerin smiled, reaching for the box of gloves on the shelf near the bed. “It’s all right, Mrs….?”

“Mauro also.”

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve heard today, Mrs. Mauro. Tell me, when did the pain start?”

Jessica pursed her lips. “It’s been bugging me all day, but I thought it was just,” she case a side eye glance at her mother, “really bad cramps.”

A hint of color came to her cheeks as she said it and he moved closer to her bedside. “No worries. Do you mind if I take a look?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Good.” He tugged the hospital gown up and carefully pressed about the general area, freezing when she gasped and cried out at the same time. “Sorry about that, Jessica. There’s no other way to do that.”

“So, it’s her appendix?” Mrs. Mauro asked.

“It could be, but we need to rule out a few more things first.” He looked up at her. “Why don’t you go and get a cup of coffee while I chat with Jessica for a few minutes.”

Mrs. Mauro sat up straighter. “Is there something else it could be? Something I should worry about?”

“I didn't say that.” He glanced over at Holly. “Nurse DeLuca, could you show Mrs. Mauro where the coffee machine is?”

“Sure. Come with me, Mrs. Mauro. Dr. Durin only needs a few minutes.”

She looked over at her daughter, who said, “It’s okay, Mom. I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Five minutes, Mrs. Mauro,” he said, holding up one hand, fingers splayed out. 

He waited for Holly and Mrs. Mauro to leave, and then turned back to Jessica. “How old are you, Jessica?”

“Thirteen… well, I’ll be thirteen in two weeks.”

“My daughter’s thirteen. It can be a tough age.” He drew over the low stool and sank onto it. “So, you’re in sixth grade?”

“Seventh.”

“Seventh grade. I remember seventh grade.” He smiled. “Do you have a boyfriend, Jessica?”

She shrugged. “Kind of.”

“Kind of. Kind of how?”

“I don’t know. Just… kind of…” She twisted the blanket’s binding as she added, “Why?”

“Well, I just need a bit of history, to rule out anything else. And I can get another nurse to come in here if you’re uncomfortable with me. Or we can wait until your mom comes back, if you’d be more comfortable that way.”

“No, this is okay.”

“Good. I’m going to ask you a couple of questions that might be uncomfortable, but it’s really important that you’re honest with me, Jessica. Okay?”

 She nodded. “Okay.”

“When was your last period?”

“I told the nurse it was right around Thanksgiving.”

“Before or after?”

“Uh.. before, I think.”

“Okay, now when you say you have a boyfriend, are you doing anything with him?”

“Why?”

“Because there are certain conditions that present like appendicitis, but aren’t. And I need to rule them all out.” He pulled off his gloves to toss into the trash can. “So, are you doing anything with him?”

She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Kissing or more?”

“More.”

He drew in a deep breath. “Are you and this boy having sex?”

She didn't answer at first, but a deep blush swept up along her cheekbones and she nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Are you using anything?”

“We used a condom.”

“Good. That’s good. Protect yourself. That’s the most important thing.”

“But it slipped off.”

“It slipped off?”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah. He said he found it, though. You cannot tell my mom any of this. She will absolutely kill me if she finds out.”

“I’m not going to tell your mother, Jessica. Not without your permission.”

“Wait, you mean, you aren’t going tell me that my mom won’t kill me? That I should tell her?”

“Well, in a perfect world, yeah, you should tell her. But it’s your decision, not mine. You know your mother.”

Her dark eyes narrowed slightly. “Do you think I should?”

“Well, let’s wait and see what the problem is first, okay?”

“What do you think it is?”

“I want to run a couple of tests and it won’t take long.” He looked up as Holly and Mrs. Mauro came back. “Ah, perfect timing. Holly,” he rose from the stool and moved over to her, “let’s get a CBC, and urine dip and check the icon.”

Mrs. Mauro looked from Holly to him. “What are those?”

“Routine bloodwork. I’ll need your consent for them, though.” He took the chart from the tray and held it out. 

“Is one of them a pregnancy test?”

“It’s routine, Mrs. Mauro. All female patients of child bearing age are tested.” He held out a pen as well. 

“Why would you test a twelve year old girl?”

“Because twelve year olds who have already gotten their periods can get pregnant.”

“But my daughter is not—”

“It’s okay, Mom,” Jessica broke in quietly, the blush gone from her cheeks. “Just sign it, okay?”

“Jessie…” Mrs. Mauro turned to her, her eyes wide. “Are you telling me…?”

“Just sign. Please?”

“Oh, shit…” Mrs. Mauro muttered even as she scrawled her signature across the sheet. “You’re only twelve, Jess…”

Frerin looked over at Holly, whose eyebrows rose as Jessica said, “We were bored.”

“Jess!”

Jessica must’ve decided her mother wouldn’t kill her after all. Biting back a smile, Frerin turned to Mrs. Mauro. “I’ll be back as soon as those test results come in, okay, Jessica? If you start to feel any worse, just let Nurse DeLuca know and she’ll come find me.”

“Okay.”

Holly followed him to the edge of the curtain. “What are you thinking?”

Peering in at Jessica, he said, “I want to rule out an ectopic, just to be safe. So, put a rush on the bloodwork.”

“I’ll see what I can do. The lab is just as shorthanded as we are.”

“Well, tell them this is a Code Red and needs to be done before anything else. Tell them it’s a kid if you have to.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks.” 

They parted ways then and he wove his way back to the desk and the still-overflowing rack of charts. “Who’s next?”

Ashley looked up from the forms she thumbed through. “Take your pick, Dr. D. The waiting room is overflowing.”

“Any kids?”

She gave him a look. “I don’t memorize the charts. I just rack them.”

“Okay, okay. Yeesh…” He moved down to thumb through them. “Aha! Two year old with the croup. If anyone needs me, I’ll be in Exam One. I’m waiting on some lab results for Curtain Three, so can someone let me know the minute they land in my inbox?”

“I’m on it, Dr. D.”

“Thank you!”

“Dr. Durin? Lab results on your ectopic are in.”

Frerin looked up from the chart he was reviewing as Ashley held out the lab slip. “Thanks, Ashley.”

As he looked down, a heavy sigh came to his lips. Carol came around the corner of the desk. “Bad news?”

He looked up. “Twelve year old with an ectopic. Ashley, get OB on the phone for me?”

“Sure thing, Dr. D.” Ashely dialed the number and a moment later, held out the phone. “Dr. Miller’s covering.”

“Good.” He took the phone. “Randi, it’s Frerin Durin in the ER. I’ve got a twelve year old down here with an ectopic pregnancy that we need to take care of ASAP.”

“Damn, twelve…” Randi Miller let out a whistle. “Give me a few minutes to secure an OR and I’ll meet you up on Six once you get consent.”

“Great. I’ll have her there ASAP.”

“Sounds good.”

Frerin handed the receiver back to Ashley. “Do you know where Holly is?”

“I think she’s in Exam One.” Carol gestured toward the exam rooms down the hallway. 

“Okay.” He picked up Jessica Mauro’s chart and tucked the lab slip in with it, then made his way down to the exam rooms and poked his head in. “Excuse me, Holly, do you have a moment?”

She looked away from the elderly woman she was with and nodded. “I’ll be finished here in just a few minutes.”

“Okay. Meet me in Curtain Three?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks. Sorry to interrupt.”

The elderly woman smiled. “It’s no trouble. Feel free to interrupt again, if you like.”

Holly burst out laughing. “Mrs. Zwicker!”

“What? He’s cute.”

Frerin chuckled as he ducked back out of the exam room and wound his way back toward the Curtain areas. At Curtain Three, he said, “Jessica?”

“Yeah?”

He came around the curtain to find both Jessica and her mother looking even more exhausted now. “Your labs came back. Mrs. Mauro, would you mind giving us—”

“It’s okay,” Jessica said slowly, reaching for her mother’s hand. “You can say whatever it is.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “It’s okay. I already told her.”

He looked from mother to daughter. Mrs. Mauro certainly didn't look as if she was about to kill her daughter, so he took that as a good sign. “I’m afraid you have what’s called an ectopic pregnancy.”

She stared at him. “I’m pregnant?”

“Holy crap,” Mrs. Mauro whispered.

“Mom!”

“Okay, hold on,” he broke in softly. “You are, but instead if implanting in the uterus, the fertilized egg is in your fallopian tube.”

“So, do you need to operate to move it?” Jessica asked, her fingers visibly tightening about her mother’s.

“We do need to operate,” he said, “and I’ve already spoken with the OB on call and when we finish here, we’ll take you up to surgery, but I’m afraid we can’t move it, Jessica. It isn’t a viable pregnancy.”

“So, I’m having an abortion?”

“Is that really necessary?” Mrs. Mauro asked. 

“I’m afraid so, Mrs. Mauro. And it has to be taken care of as soon as possible to avoid any complications. So, I have a consent form I’ll need you to sign and—”

Mrs. Mauro stared at him. “And if I refuse to give it?”

“Mom!”

“Mrs. Mauro, under law, pregnancy emancipates Jessica, so she technically doesn’t need parental consent. However, it would make things easier for you both if you would.”

 Mrs. Mauro bit her bottom lip as Jessica broke in with, “But, I don't want an abortion, Mom. I—I want to keep the baby.” 

“It’s all right, baby,” she replied, smoothing Jessica’s sleep-matted dark hair away from her face. “This is different, okay. You’ll be fine.”

“Mommy… no…”

“Jessica, listen to me,” Frerin set the chart down and with his free hand, caught the stool to bring it to her bedside, “I know it’s kind of scary, but it really does need to be done. If we don’t operate quickly, your life could be in danger. Like I said, this isn’t a matter of choice. This has to be done.”

She shook her head. “I don't want to.”

“Jessie…” Mrs. Mauro cleared her throat. “Dr. Durin, could I speak with you outside?”

“Sure.” He rose and followed her from the exam area. “What is it?”

“Her father came into this hospital three months ago. He’d had a heart attack and his doctor told him he needed to have a stent put in, so he agreed and he died from complications of having it done.”

“I understand and I’m sorry for your loss, but this really is not something that can wait. It truly is a matter of time. If we don’t terminate, the fallopian tube can rupture and Jessica could hemorrhage to death if that happens.”

“No, I understand and I’m not fighting you on it. I just wanted you to understand why she is.”

“I do understand. And I don't blame her at all.”

“So, where is the consent form?”

“Inside.” He moved the curtain to allow her to pass by and once they were at Jessica’s bedside, he said, “I’ll go up with you, Jessica. Trust me, you’ll be in the best hands in the hospital. I promise.”

She didn't look entirely convinced. “Will you stay with me?”

Holly came into the room along with someone from Transport. “Dr. Durin, do you need me to go up with Jessica?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “I’ll go up with her. Why don't we and Mrs. Mauro, I can answer any questions you might have on the way.”

“Sure.”

Mrs. Mauro signed the consent and passed it back to him. “Will I be able to see her before she goes in? That’s really the only question I have.”

“You’ll be able to be with her until she does.” He took the form, tucked it in with Jessica’s chart and looked down at her. “Are you ready?”

Jessica didn't look ready at all, even as she nodded. “Okay.”

“You’re going to be just fine,” he told her, moving as the guy from Transport came around to unlock the wheels of Jessica’s bed.

“You ready, Miss Jessica? I’m Tony and I promise you, I won’t hit the bumps too hard.”

“I’m ready.”

He rolled her out and Mrs. Mauro turned to Frerin. “She looks so much younger than twelve.”

“They always do.”

“Do you have any children?”

“I have three. My daughter is just a little older than Jessica.”

“You can’t keep them safe, you know? You try and try and try, but… they are going to do what they’re going to do.”

“The important thing is communication, Mrs. Mauro. You keep those lines open, and you’ll be amazed at what happens.”

“Dr. Durin?” Jessica called over the top of her bed.

He fell into step alongside her. “What is it, Jessica?”

“Are you going to be doing my operation?”

“No. I’m not. Dr. Miller is and she’s really good. You’re in the best hands. I promise.”

“You never answered me about staying with me. Would you?”

“Dr. Durin?” Ashley poked her head around the corner. “You’ve got a drunk slip and fall waiting in Exam Four.”

“Get Zander to take it. I’m going up with my twelve year old.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll be back down when she’s in Recovery.”

“Okay.”

He glanced down at Jessica. “I’ll stay until you go into surgery.”

“Thank you, Dr. Durin.”

He reached down to ruffle her hair as they all got onto the elevator and the doors slid shut. Reese would be pissed, but he’d get over it. And even if he didn’t, Frerin didn't care.