#like okay this could be just the character but if it crops up with almost every non force sensitive and that it inself is a reaccuring theme

[solar-nightengale]

@lizardthelizard You wanted my thoughts, you're getting them 😏 Three and a half weeks later but you're still getting them ehehehe 😌😌😌 (Idk what to make of them so have fun with that word wall of mayhem)

August 2.18 | Zelena 3.16

[always-just-red]

Oh I forgot to add 😭😭😭 be it fluff like jelly sylus but fluff maybe he trying to make the mc jelly too ? I’m going wild with ideas, I will be quiet

(Part 1 of ask) FINALLY finished this fic oh my goshhh I've loved it so much but writer's block was my constant companion for this one 🫠 Thanks for your patience!! Sy is jealous but I'm still pushing my 'Sylus is the softest man alive and would die before hurting MC' agenda, so I had to get a lil creative! Hope I've pulled it off idk 😭😭

Be Mine

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus is getting a little tired of sharing you with the other men in your life (and he doesn't mean Luke and Kieran 🙃)

Genre: lil bit of angst, comfort and fluff

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, jealousy, other LIs mentioned, brief allusion to Raf's self-harm tendencies, cheating mentioned, some intimacy & kisses-- more soft than spicy!

| Word count: 4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Sylus has spent centuries waiting for you, so he’s going to give you another minute.

Patience is not a virtue; it’s an old acquaintance he greets with a false smile whenever he’s forced to pass it on the street. Sometimes outside your building, whilst you’re chatting with a neighbour from the apartment above yours. Sometimes when you’re running late from a doctor’s appointment.

Patience has been cropping up a lot these days and gods, he’s sick of its face. Even now, it sits with him at this table for two as he sips at a glass that’s almost empty. There’s poetry in stalling, in savouring what’s left, especially as a waiter hovers anxiously nearby, anticipating the need for yet another refill (it would be the third).

Dregs of blood-red wine swirl with solemnity. Sylus is a patient man, a man who waits, but he doesn’t want to be. He wants the reward of it: the pot of gold at the end of that insipid rainbow. Hasn’t he waited enough?

He lifts his drink to his lips again.

“Sylus!”

They curve as he swallows the final drop.

“I’m so sorry,” you stammer, flinging yourself into the seat across from him so quickly that he’s cheated of the chance to rise and help you with your chair. “Sit back down,” you usher, because he had made a start on it, “really, Sy, I’m so, so sorry. Things at work just got crazy, and I—”

“You don’t have to explain, sweetie,” he smiles as he signals the waiter. He’ll have that refill, now, and he orders your favourite drink as you shrug off your coat and fumble with your bag, looking for something. “I’m more than familiar with the Association’s… dedication to a cause.”

You glance up with an amused smile. “We’re keeping you on your toes, huh?”

“Mmm. There is one hunter who’s proving to be a real thorn in my side.”

“You on top of that?”

“Most evenings, yes. Some mornings, too.”

You poke your tongue out at him. You’ve retrieved a compact mirror and you use it to study your dishevelled reflection. “Is everything all right at work?” he asks as you fuss over your hair.

“Yeah,” you puff. “Long story.”

“We have time.”

With a warmer smile, you stash your mirror away and sequester your bag by your feet. “You sure?” He gives you a look. “Fine,” you chuckle. “Basically, Xavier forgot to write up some reports. He’s been away on an ultra-secret, special mission or whatever—” you tap your nose conspiratorially— “which I didn’t just tell you, okay? But yeah, the reports weren’t done, and they were due tonight, so…”

Sylus raises an apathetic eyebrow. “He asked you to help?”

“Begged me, more like.”

Of course he did. The waiter arrives with your drinks and Sylus has never been gladder for a distraction. His mouth is full of pettiness, bitterness, so he drowns it with wine. You could have called. Texted. “So kitten’s been playing secretary, hmm?” he goads instead.

“That would imply kitten could keep track of time,” you pout, “so no. And speaking of playing a part—” you poke his nose— “you’re allowed to be mad at me. I should have called you. Texted. So let me have it, yeah? I feel bad enough already without you being all… perfect.”

You’re only teasing, but Sylus doesn’t feel perfect. He’s thinking about you working late with your partner, laughing at his jokes, poking him with your pen to keep him from falling asleep on his paperwork. He smirks, regardless. “What if I want you to feel bad?”

“Oh, gods,” you slump forwards, face-down on the table. “How long were you waiting?”

“Years.”

You fake cry into the tablecloth. “Don’t, Sy. Just tell me the truth. How bad was it?”

“Really, years,” he insists again, folding his arms on the table and sliding forwards, too. His chin is resting on his hands, and he blows at the top of your head. “Look.” Your face lifts so you can peer at him. He pinches his hair. “I’ve even gone grey, see?”

You sit up the tiniest bit more and your noses are almost brushing. “It looks nice,” you whisper.

“You think so?”

“Mmm. Suits you.”

Your eyes are every gem— every jewel in an illicit auction Sylus has to steal away from the rest of the world, because something that pretty just has to be his; it will find no worthier home than his hands. His devotion fills vaults. Aren’t they spilling with emeralds, rubies, sapphires, diamonds— those reckless imitations of your gaze? No-one else could deserve them, adore them like he does.

And they’ve nothing on the real thing.

Someone clears their throat and Sylus tracks the noise begrudgingly. The anxious waiter is back, clutching menus this time. You sit up fully, laughing to break the tension, and sure enough, Sylus feels less like hurling the man through the nearest window.

He’s still thinking about it though. He tells the waiter as much with a smile, and the menus are passed over with shaking hands. When Sylus says, “thank you,” it sounds like a bomb, ticking.

“Play nice,” you tut, once the waiter’s cleared the blast radius.

“Sweetie, when do I ever not play nice?”

You blink back at him disbelievingly. This should be good. “How about the time that you—?”

A familiar ringtone interrupts you, and your eyes widen in apology as you grab at your bag, rifling around for your phone. You find it— check the call and decline it— but relief is hiding, refusing to set foot on stage. Not yet, it confers to Sylus darkly, because it knows what comes next.

“Do you need to…?” he asks anyway.

“Nah, it was just Rafayel. Thanks, though.” You set the phone down. “Where was I?”

“You were about to tell me what a terribly bad man I am, sweetie.”

“Right!” you giggle. No, not yet. “So how about the time that you…” The phone rings again. You check it. Decline it. “How about the time that you—ugh!” It’s ringing again.

Sylus taps a finger on the table, impatiently patient. You can’t mute the wretched thing: the next call you miss would be a Wanderer, tearing through an orphanage or the like. It’s the reason you check, even when there’re no orphans at stake— just a pest of an artist with too much time on his hands.

Except… “Oh,” you say, glancing downwards, “it’s Zayne. I should probably—” Sylus gives a half-smile of blessing, but you weren’t waiting around for it— “hey, Zayne! I can’t talk right now, unless— Raf? What the hell? How did you get Zayne’s phone?”

You pull yours away from your ear as a string of whines come through:

“— ignore my calls, don’t even text me to ask what’s up, and then pick up his call right away? You hate me, right? Just say that you hate me, cutie.”

“I don’t hate you, Raf.” The phone is back to your ear. “I’m busy. Now seriously, how did you get— oh, hi, Zayne. Why is Raf…?” Sylus can hear a deeper voice answering your questions. “He’s at the—? Shit, is he okay? Ugh, tell him I can hear him. Tell him I know he’s not dying.”

You meet Sylus’s eyes as conflict erupts on the other end of the call. Sorry, you mouth as static filters through, interspersed with broken words and curses. The doctor’s voice prevails. “Yeah, Zayne,” you speak back to it. “I’ll call Thomas, get him to pick him up. Mmhmm? Oh!” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I forgot, he’s at that stupid art thing. Look, maybe later, I can…”

The artist’s shrill tone is protesting.

“I know it’s my job, Raf!” you counter. “But gimme a break, please. If it was any other night, you know I’d be there. Of course I wanna be there! But I can’t—”

It’s just a slip of the tongue— words you don’t even realise you’re saying— but Sylus still feels his heart sink. He hates it. A heart is so difficult to argue with: it’s long gone before you can talk any sense into it. He stands from the table, those priceless eyes of yours pursuing him. When you tilt your head, he musters a smile, then a weak excuse: “I’m just stepping outside for a moment.”

You nod, a follow-up question on the tip of your tongue, but then there’s a voice in your ear again— two voices— and you’re you, so of course you listen.

…

Sylus waits on a bench outside the restaurant, closing his eyes as he waits for his heart to come back.

It’s only been a few minutes. He’s thinking about your eyes, your nose and lips— an inch from his— and how he should have closed that gap before it grew treacherous. Shouldn’t he be done with this? This… longing? You’re his. You’ve told him you’re his, over and over again, but he finds himself needing to hear it once more; the ghost of your voice is starting to lack persuasion.

He is yours without exception, but you? There’s always a caveat. I’m yours, Sylus. But only so long as the city is quiet. I’m yours, Sylus. Until someone else calls. The door to the restaurant opens— he can hear it— but he doesn’t open his eyes. He wants to pretend.

I’m yours, Sylus. No caveats. No exceptions.

“Sylus.”

He swallows the dread in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” you entreat softly. His eyes open, and you’re wearing your coat, holding your bag. “I have to run to the hospital— it’s this whole thing. Raf, like, passed out or something. He’s not been eating again. Zayne said when something like this keeps happening, it’s a sign that… yeah. He just… needs someone. And he hasn’t got anyone else, you know?”

“I understand.” You’re worried about your friend. That’s all it is.

Why can’t he believe that’s all it is?  

You come over and sink down on the bench beside him, looping your arm through his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Don’t you know that he’s afraid? That a selfish, spiteful part of him wants to hide you— with the rest of his treasures— away from the light, so he can love you in the dark?

There’s a sigh as you lean against him, savouring his touch like the wine one swirls in a glass when their thoughts are elsewhere. It’s gone in a mouthful; you check your watch, and he hopes it’s bitter.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

No, he would rather be sweet for you, but look at you— making him lie. “I’m okay,” he says, and it doesn’t have a drop of conviction. He’s tired of philanthropy.

…

“What are you gonna do? Come on, tell us. Tell us! What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know, Luke. Give me a second, okay? Jeez.”

You literally just got here. Your pace is brisk and the night air still clings to you— you shed a layer of it by peeling your arms out of your coat. Luke and Kieran are close behind, keeping to your heels like terriers hoping you’ll trip with a plateful of food. They’ll take even a crumb at this point.

“You gonna fight him?” Kieran nudges, but your lips stay tight.

“Oh, you’re so gonna fight him,” Luke takes away from the silence.

You don’t know what you’re going to do. You’ve reached a decadent lounge, lavished with black and gold, and you throw your coat over the arm of a chair before starting to wrestle off your combat boots. You’ve been off work for hours, but it doesn’t feel like it. One call-to-duty after another; first the hospital, now this.

Mephisto caws in greeting from a nearby perch. “I’m not gonna fight him,” you say as your second boot drops with a clunk. “I just need to—”

“Say no more,” Luke cuts you off. “We want in.”

With a tired sigh, you gaze up at the twins at last. Kieran is readying a fist: punching his hand softly, the beak of his mask low and threatening. Beside him, Luke swings a baseball bat over his shoulder. He didn’t have it a second ago. Where did he even—?

You put your hands on your hips. “You guys got a death wish or something?”

“Yes!” they enthuse together, nodding excitedly.

You haven’t got time to ask. Your focus drifts to Sylus’s bedroom door, where music is leaking with honeylike light. You can’t count the number of times you’ve fallen over that threshold, exhausted— always slightly broken. You want to crawl into cool silk sheets and a warmer embrace, but there’s one small problem.

The text that had brought you here, anxious and out of breath:

Boss is with someone.

“What’re you thinking?”

You’re closer to the door, now, and Luke’s whisper makes you jump. You spin, twisting the bat from his fingers and pushing him back until the tip is pressed to his throat. “Get back,” you hiss, before levelling the weapon at an encroaching Kieran, “both of you.”

Luke leaps behind his brother— swinging him between you for protection. The baseball bat stays hovering, and Luke peeks over Kieran’s shoulder, swatting at it like an indignant kitten.

“Stop it,” you scold, poking back at his hand and his masked face. “Begone!”

“Yes, boss!” Kieran goes to move, but Luke is holding him in place. He’s dragged backwards: a human shield until they can both scurry around the turn of a corridor.

You smile fondly. You forget, for just a moment, that you’re alone and full of uncertainty. The song in the next room lulls, at its inevitable end, and then you can’t forget. You’re stood in silence, staring at a door you’ve never had to knock before. Another song starts up.

Whatever this is, you can handle it.

You use the baseball bat to tap against the dark wood. “Sylus?” you call.

He makes you wait. You can hear him, moving around— unmistakably taking his time— but you don’t mind. You’re running scenarios through your head. Is he in on this, too? Or…?

He opens the door and oh, he definitely is. His silk robe hangs haphazardly over his figure, one side threatening to slip from his shoulder and the belt dangerously loose at the middle. A flush is tinting his face, spreading down through his neck, past his collarbone and lower, you think, but you’re trying not to look.

“Sweetie,” he purrs in the way that tells you he’s up to no good, “what a pleasant surprise.” His eyes flit downwards. “And you’re armed, too.”

There’s a breathlessness to the observation, and your ability to breathe briefly eludes you as well. His hair is damp and unkempt, his skin warm, his gaze hot. Is this a test? It feels like a test.

“Are you alone?” you snap, because he’s clearly put some thought into whatever it is, and you’re a good sport, so you’ll play along.

“No,” he says, but then: “You know you’re always with me in spirit, kitten. Even if not in—” another downwards glance— “body.”

“Sylus.”

“Mmm?”

“I’m going to ask you one more time.” You catch his chin with your free hand, forcing his gaze back to your face. “And I want a real answer.” He swallows thickly. “Are you alone?”

His submission is fragile. He lifts his hand, wraps his fingers around your wrist like a reminder of the fact. “Careful, sweetie.” His grip tightens as his voice drops. “Think about what you’re asking.”

“I know what I’m asking.” You snatch your hand free and step closer. “Get out of my way.”

Sylus narrows his eyes, but soon relaxes. He sweeps a hand through his hair, chuckling as he obeys— moving aside to let you past. You storm through, looking over every visible inch of his room. There’s nothing to see, of course. No clothes that aren’t yours pooled over the floor. No lover wrapped up in his bedsheets.

“Just what exactly are you looking for?” he asks smugly behind you.

“Save it, Sylus.” Your pretend patience is gone. “The twins told me everything.”

So you start searching more strenuously. You make your way over to his bed, baseball bat slung over your shoulder as you check behind the far side— even stooping to peek under it. You open the wardrobe. Nothing. Use the baseball bat to push back the curtains, letting in more blood-red moonlight. Nothing. You huff in frustration.

“You know, don’t you?” Sylus says quietly.

He’s leant against the doorway, arms crossed, and you spare him a glance. “Know what?”  

“That there’s no-one here.”

It sounds like defeat. “I’m taking this very seriously, actually,” you dismiss as you roll open the drawer of his bedside table, where no-one is hiding. You move on to even more absurd places: lifting flowers out of their vase to glance about inside it, peering into the horn of his vintage gramophone.

You’d hoped your antics would elicit at least a short laugh, or a scoff of amusement. There’s nothing, though, so you plonk onto the bed— defeated, yourself— and look to the man as you set your weapon down.

He looks back with an insincere smile. “How did you know?”

“That you weren’t really with someone? Because you’re you, Sylus. The key to a good prank?” Your fingers twinkle in the air beside your head. “Believability. Besides—” now a forefinger taps at your temple— “nothing gets past this.”

“Your ego?” he guesses with a smirk that is sincere, if nothing else.

“My brain, Sy.”

“Ah.”

Your ego— tsk. Your feet are dangling from the bed, playing with a slipper they’ve fished out from underneath it, and you have half a mind to launch it at him. This doesn’t feel like one of your usual games, though, and you’ve had a whole ride through the N109 Zone to figure out why.

“I really hurt you, didn’t I?” you speak like a confession, staring down at the floor so you don’t have to meet his eyes. “That’s what all this is about, right? You wanted to get back at me for dinner?”

“No, I—”

“I get it.” Your feet find the second slipper. “I do. I mean, it was a really shitty thing to do— walking out on you like that. Especially after you waited for me. You went to all that effort, and I— ah.” You’ve toed one of the slippers out of reach.

“Allow me,” comes a voice that’s suddenly close. Sylus’s figure looms over you before he’s crouching, kneeling by your feet. He still looks like a mess of sin, but he’s gentle as he retrieves the slipper for you. Removes your socks for you. Slides a slipper onto each of your cold feet. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he mutters.

You let out a sigh. “Sylus.” You’re scolding him, and he gazes up at you, his eyes garnets of adoration only you could afford. “You can tell me anything, you know.”

“I know, sweetie.”

“So why won’t you tell me how you feel?”

He sits back on his knees, his thumb drawing circles on the inside of your ankle. The ministrations are mindless, and so are his words: “How I feel is not important.”

“Of course it is!” You pull away from him. “Don’t say things like that.”

“But I thought I could tell you anything, kitten.”

It’s a nick from a blade that could do much worse; he wants you to feel how sharp it is. His smile is a warning and he’s waiting for the hunter in you to strike back, because violence is what you’re good at. What you’re both good at. It hurts, but it’s easy.

You shift forward on the bed. “Sylus… you don’t need to protect me. Not from you. Not from anything you feel. I want you to be happy, to tell me if you’re unhappy. I don’t need you to—” your fingers skirt over his chest and you falter inexplicably— “to sacrifice yourself for me.”

Sylus looks down to where you’re tracing the shape of his heart on his skin. He lets out a long, beleaguered breath, then leans closer to you, his head turning away as he settles it on your lap. Your hands find his hair instinctually, threading through it in slow, meandering motions.

“I want you to be mine,” he admits on another sigh.

He can’t see you smile, but he’ll hear it in your voice: “I am yours, Sy—”

“No— just mine.”

He won’t make it a demand. Even asking you nicely has him breathless and still, like the drawn-out pause of a finished symphony. Your hands stop moving, out of respect for the quiet. You’re remembering the times you’ve been late out of your building because you’d stumbled into Xavier in the lobby. The doctor’s appointments that always overrun, and Rafayel’s ‘emergency’ phone calls.

“Come and sit with me,” you mumble, patting the bed beside you.

When Sylus does, it’s with the same reluctance a cat surrenders a sliver of sun. Lazy and listless— still warm from the light. The bed sinks under his weight and you turn to face him. His robe’s collar has fallen further, so you hook a finger under it to draw it back up to his neck. Then you straighten the lapels, smoothing them over distractedly.

He’s watching your face, not the movements of your hands. Your cheeks feel warm. “I was speaking to Rafayel earlier, and we—”

A groan, and Sylus is no longer at your fingertips; he’s flopped down backwards on the bed, his hand over his face. You can’t help giggling— you’ve broken the big, bad boss of Onychinus, it seems. Is that all it takes? You grin as you lie down with him, settling on your side, propped up on an elbow. He doesn’t stir when you fix a few stray strands of his hair.

“We talked about boundaries,” you continue. “How I can’t be on call twenty-four seven, and how he’s going to take better care of himself, so I don’t have to be.”

Sylus has moved his hand, ever so slightly.

There’s more: “I’m gonna call in sick to work tomorrow. I made a deal with Xavier, that’s why I stayed late today. He’ll cover for me.” You shift closer. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I know I can’t always be with you, but I am always thinking of you, I promise. You’re always with me in spirit, Sy, even if not in—” you press a quick kiss to his chest— “body.”

He chuckles at the words, or maybe the touch tickled.

You grin down at him. “I’m yours. Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

“No! Ugh, just—” Smart-ass! You flick his forehead as he laughs quietly. “Not the words ‘I’m yours’, say that I’m—”

His hand is at your face, pulling you in so he can kiss you. It’s slow and it’s patient; he’s taking his time, and you won’t slip away. You can feel his smile. “You’re mine,” he murmurs when he finally withdraws. One more kiss, lighter, on the tip of your nose. “Just mine.”

Always. You let him pull you into an embrace, snuggling into his warmth like you’ve been wanting to from the moment you last left it. You can hear his heartbeat beneath the lullaby of his breath. “Sy?” you whisper.

“Hmm?”

“You look really hot when you’re pretending to cheat on me.”

He scoffs, but a yawn comes before his response. “Don’t get any ideas, kitten.”

Your quiet is pensive. “I have this lunch with Zayne later this week. I really should text him to find out—”

The grip around you constricts, and a voice is in your ear, soft and possessive:

“What did I just say?”

[wonderjanga]

idea: billy keeping Important League Stuff in miss bambis apartment for safekeeping cuz the rock of eternity has WAY too much evil stuff, and now all the magic users think that miss bambis magic-catwoman

Miss Bambi: “Billy, whats that?”

Billy: “Space cancer in a bottle!”

Miss Bambi: “Oh… I see.” *takes a drag of her cigarette* “Well, put it with the others.”

Billy: “Thanks, Miss Bambi!” *runs in and puts it with the other bottles full of space cancer*

William Joseph Batson is the World’s Mightiest Mortal. He’s also a 12-year-old boy who doesn’t have many adults in his life that he trusts. That’s why he leaves highly dangerous mission stuff with Miss Bambi. Because he trusts her. Also because he doesn’t think he should have a bunch of dangerous stuff in the Rock. Some of it should be in other places.

Anyways, other magicians who visit Fawcett all get concerned whenever they pass by a shitty apartment complex that has a bunch of evil and negative magic radiating from it. Specifically a single apartment.

This is the apartment complex I told you about.

Marvel: *staring at the building, thinking they know* “I see… and why are we here?”

Random Magician: “Wha- because there’s a bunch of evil magic practically oozing from it!”

Marvel: “And?”

Random Magician: “And what! That person could be extremely dangerous!”

Marvel: “I assure you, they’re not.”

Random Magician: “Yes they are! Magic can only become this bad through numerous evil rituals and sacrifices and spells!”

Marvel: “Look, just trust me, okay? It’s nothing.”

That magician did in fact, not trust him, and instead went to go check out the location of the source of the evil magic.

Random Magician: “Who’re you??”

Miss Bambi: “You can call me Bambi.” *looks them up and down judgmentally* “Are you one of Billy’s friends?”

Random Magician: *doesn’t know Billy is Cap* “No?”

Miss Bambi: “Oh.” *slams the door in their face*

The magic user eventually tried to suddenly ask about her and this Billy character.

Marvel: “That’s uh… My name?”

The magic user proceeded to go and tell everyone they knew because what the heck? This random, potentially very evil lady knows the champions real name? Also, the Champion’s name is Billy??

That’s how the “Oh, she must be magical Catwoman” thing cropped up.

From then on, they all had utmost respect for her cause the Champion is insanely powerful, so by stealing from the Rock of Eternity of all places that means she has to be pretty powerful herself. There’s also the fact that they can sense almost no magic from her so clearly she must be at least skilled to hide it that well.

Every single wizard that is evil is trying to curry to her favor.

Evil Magician: *looking extremely suspicious* “Mistress Bambi-”

Miss Bambi: “I told you weirdos not to call me that.”

Evil Magician: “-I have come to tell you about a special artifact that I think will interest you. It’s the eye of the Bermuda Triangle.”

Miss Bambi: *smoking, looking at them like they’re an idiot* “Yeah… Thanks…”

Evil Magician: “Your welcome, mistress-”

Miss Bambi: “Again, told you not to call me that.”

Later…

Miss Bambi: *chilling outside the apartment complex*

Billy: *jogging over so he can go inside

Miss Bambi: “Hey, Billy!”

Billy: “Yes, Miss Bambi?”

Miss Bambi: “Another one of those creeps came around and told me about some Eye of the Bermuda Triangle?”

“Another evil artifact? Dang. Well, I’ll hop to it! Thanks, Miss Bambi!”

See, the unfortunate thing is that an evil magician would tell Bambi about an evil artifact, and then Billy would go search for it and then give it to her for safekeeping. So they’d think she stole it, which would continue to feed the magical Catwoman rumors.

By the way, all the artifacts besides the ones that sound explicitly dangerous like the space cancer and a bottle, or just scattered about her apartment. Like, she has multiple evil pendants hanging from her ceiling fan because they look pretty and add to the ambience. She has an evil magic tome under one of the legs of her coffee table, so it keeps balance. She does not care.

Also, John Constantine eventually met her, and they vibe.

[silveryshards]

Club Night

NSFW! KiriBaku. Lion Hybrid!Kirishima x Human!Bakugo. All characters are 18+.

Tags/Warnings: KiriBaku, lion hybrid Kirishima x human Bakugo, self-kink shame, anxiety attack, purring, pheromones, sex work, hybrid anatomy (aka lion dick), Top!Kirishima, Bottom!Bakugo, biting, mating bite, scent kink, size kink, size difference, dry humping, cum eating, blowjob, eating ass, fingering, anal, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, dry orgasm, maybe squirting, creampie, passing out from sex

Word Count: 9,516

A/N: I was inspired to write this based on Dark's rendition of Lion Hybrid!Kiriahima over on Bluesky, if you like this fic go give her some love! Additionally, if you prefer x reader, I will eventually have both gender neutral reader and fem reader versions, just keep your eye out on my masterlist!

Having a hybrid kink wasn’t as taboo as it used to be. Now, there was a whole hybrid sex work industry that existed, above board! And highly reputable club just opened in the city near Katsuki Bakugo.

Bakugo’s heart raced as he walked through the doors into the thrumming bass of the club. The beat so strong he was able to ignore the flutter of his heart and instead focus on the vibrations in his body. He handed the bouncer his ID and paid the cover charge.

The dance music continued to pour through the club’s speakers as he ventured inside. His tongue sat heavy in his mouth, so dry he could almost taste it. Water, the bar, he needed water. 

Bright, vibrant lights strobed and flashed across the club. There were many human patrons like Bakugo mulling around the dance floor, around the show stage, and around the bar. And then…there were the hybrids.

They were all so beautiful. How could they all be so beautiful it hurt? Each in their own unique outfit. Some wore cropped tanks and leggings, others in stripper lingerie, and some in regular street clothes. Accessible to all levels of patron comfortability. He appreciated that.

Bakugo wasn't sure he’d be able to approach any of the more sexily adorned hosts. His cheeks flushed scarlet and he rushed to the bar to stutter out his request for water. Thankfully, the bartender was a gentle looking human. He smiled at Bakugo knowingly and got him a bottle of water.

Sagging into the bar seat felt like the only thing keeping him grounded. He was excited but he was also so anxious he could barely breathe. What was he doing here? Him, of all people, in a place like this?

Was he really that pathetic?

No. No. No. Fuck off anxiety. Indulging in this kink and seeking the company of a hybrid in a consensual and healthy environment was good. His heart raced harder and the pounding in his ears swelled to a tempo that drowned out the techno.

Squeezing the water bottle didn’t help. Squeezing his eyes shut didn’t help. He had to ground. He frantically tried to recall one of his on the go grounding rituals.

“Hey, are you okay? Do you need to sit somewhere quiet?” A deep, soft, but energetic voice asked, cutting through the thunder of Bakugo’s heartbeat.

Bakugo’s eyes snapped back open, and he turned, mortification icy in his veins. Next to him stood a crimson furred lion hybrid that had to be at least 7 feet tall. His scarlet hair fell in waves around his chiseled face, framing it like a mane would. The longer locks cascaded down his back all the way to his ass.

His feline ears stuck out on top of his head, the crimson fur contrasting against scarlet locks. He was all shades of red. Sharp, kind crimson eyes searched Bakugo’s as he took in the lion’s beautiful visage in a stunned, anxious silence. A scar ran across his right eye from eyebrow to cheekbone.

His big hands were covered in that same crimson fur and fingers were tipped with black claws. The fur disappeared underneath the sleeve of his black plaid button up, so Bakugo wasn’t certain how far it went. And behind him lazily swished a smooth crimson tail that ended in a thick, fluffy tuft of scarlet fur, the same color as his hair.

Those big hands…one reached for Bakugo as his vermillion eyes softly scanned his face.

“Hey, um. Sorry to bother you. Did you hear me? Are you okay? Do you need to sit somewhere quiet?” He gently asked again, leaning in and down to make sure Bakugo heard him.

The energetic techno music came back into focus around the ringing and pounding of Bakugo’s heart. Lights flashed across the lion from the dance floor.

He asked you a question! What was it? Quiet, he was offering you quiet. Bakugo managed to nod, hands clinging to his plastic water bottle.

“We can go to my room. Can I touch you?”

Bakugo’s stomach flipped at the idea. He was nearly three times his size. Would his fur be soft? But Bakugo nodded again, unable to do much else. The music was filtering through but the ringing in his ears was still loud and dizzying.

The kind lion reached out and took his forearm, pausing to gauge for comfortability, before coaxing Bakugo out of the bar seat and towards the back of the club. He felt numb as he followed, the only thing that felt real was the lion’s large, soft hand cradling his own.

Bakugo’s lion paused at the door and unlocked it with a key, walking in. The room was far more…customized than he expected. Weights and a punching bag sat in the corner, the walls were covered in traditional Japanese art, samurai concepts, and martial arts materials.

The bed took up almost all the rest of the room. It was a king, probably because the lion was so big, and sported a green camouflage bedspread. Everything looked so…normal. It eased some of the pressure in Bakugo’s chest.

After looking around, he was guided to sit on the bed. Big, strong hands lifted him and deposited him with ease. The bottle of water was taken from his clenching hand and it was pressed to his bottom lip.

“Can you take a sip for me?” The lion’s dulcet bass drove away the ringing and allowed Bakugo to recognize that the muffled music sounded calmer in the room.

Bakugo would do anything he asked.

Bakugo pulled a big draw from the bottle and swallowed and went to pull more when the lion pulled the bottle away.

“Hey, hey, I said sip, not to chug!” he laughed, it was such a cheerful sound.

Bakugo looked up at him as he smiled and heartily laughed. That broad, sunny expression lit up his entire face. His sharp pointed teeth glinted in the light as his crimson eyes crinkled in the corners.

“Sorry,” Bakugo murmured, voice quiet.

“S’okay. Being hydrated is manly! But choking on water while having a panic attack, isn’t. I’m Kirishima by the way, Eijiro Kirishima,” Kirishima said, sitting on the edge of the bed facing Bakugo.

“Manly?” Bakugo questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah! Manliness and chivalry, the two things I strive most for in life!” the huge lion hybrid exclaimed, perking up with a grin.

“That’s great,” Bakugo said, smiling softly, the lion’s sunshine attitude infectious.

“Are you feeling better now that you’re out of the lights and noise?” he asked gently, leaning forward to examine Bakugo again for signs of distress.

“Yeah, it actually wasn’t sensory overload that triggered it. I liked the vibe! It was…” Bakugo trailed off, not sure he wanted to bare his soul to this man. He came to indulge in a kink. While he’d had no intentions of treating his hybrid host as an object, he didn’t come for emotions. This was…sex.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m okay, now, though. I can go back out so you can find someone to…host,” Bakugo said, standing up and walking towards the door. Even though Kirishima was exactly Bakugo’s type, he was…a little big. And that intimidated him. 

“Hey, wait!” Kirishima reached out to gently encircle his arm with gentle claws. “You don’t have to go. I’m not kicking you out. I want to make sure you’re okay first.”

Bakugo thought back to earlier when he’d wondered if the lion’s fur was soft. It was. And warm. Not like petting his cat at home where their fur just felt like the temperature in the room. It was the temperature of Kirishima’s body. 

The thudding of Bakugo’s heart resumed, but this time, it wasn’t nerves or self depreciating anxiety. His body warmed as Kirishima’s hand on him made Bakugo acutely aware he was alone with the red lion hybrid, in his hosting room. 

“I promise, I am okay.” He tried to keep his voice steady as he spoke, but blush started to creep up his neck and dusted across his cheeks. “I just spiraled about something dumb for a second. I’m grounded now. Honest.”

The lion frowned at Bakugo and stood, towering over him. He swallowed and tried to ignore what Kirishima’s presence was doing to his body. He needed to go back out and do this properly, pick a hybrid, pay them, and then come back to one of these —

Eijiro’s big, soft hand cupped Bakugo’s chin and tilted his face up to look at him. Concern plastered his beautiful face. His crimson eyes scanned Bakugo’s face and studied him.

“Do you want to leave because I’m not attractive to you? I know I’m not as lithe and pretty as a cat or leopard, I know I don’t have a knot like the canine hybrids do. I’m just kind of really…big. No one really comes in looking for a lion hybrid. I’m not as popular or cool as the others. I guess I have my teeth and claws, and my tail. But my tail doesn’t really add much of anything.”

It swished behind him in slow, uncertain patterns. It was Bakugo’s turn to study his face. Was he serious?! He couldn’t be serious.

“W-what?! No! It’s not that at all! Why would you say those things about yourself?! You’re so fucking hot and I’m sitting here trying to hide how turned on I was just from you touching my arm!”

The lion’s eyebrows shot up curiously. Bakugo regretted the words he said instantly. He took a step back. Go back out, find a host who’s looking to fuck, and leave this gentle giant alone.

“I never assume what a guest comes to the club for since there are so many options. It’s a bar, a very safe dance club, a strip club, a host club, and a brothel. Lots of reasons and you never really know why someone’s here.”

Those crimson eyes started dragging across his figure, he could practically feel Kirishima’s gaze ghosting on his skin, those kind eyes were now predatory and hungry.

“But you didn’t ask why I had a private room or a bed in here. Which makes me think you came looking to indulge in the brothel. That.” His sharp teeth flashed again as he grinned. “And the fact that you’re apparently turned on just by a touch.”

Bakugo shifted backwards and let out a nervous breath. He didn’t want to feel hunted, he came here to find some fun, cute hybrid, have sex, and go home. A nervous swallow moved in his throat.

“I did. I did come for sex. I was going to eventually go to the hosts, see who was available that did that type of hosting, and see if anyone looked like they weren’t… completely turned off or disgusted by me. And hope that they were cute and I could have a fun night with them,” Bakugo admitted.

“I’m one of the hosts that does sex,” Kirishima said. He took another step forward, eliminating the distance Bakugo had created. He felt the heat radiating off the lion’s body.

“I dress in street clothes so I’m more approachable. A big lion in assless chaps and a collar harness with chains doesn’t exactly scream “welcome”. But a plaid button up and jeans? Safer.”

“O-okay,” Bakugo stuttered. “I still would like to go and do this properly.”

Again, Bakugo tried to leave the room. He’d go out to the host stand and do this right, and make sure there wasn’t a host that he was more comfortable with. Because the way Kirishima was looking at him made him feel like dinner.

Bakugo loved and hated it.

“‘Kay. Let’s go.”

And then Kirishima was dragging Bakugo behind him out to the host scheduler’s podium. Bakugo saw his chest rising and falling faster than a man of his stature and fitness should have been winded by the walk. Kirishima leaned down and said something to the human woman standing there.

As she lifted her pen to write something down Bakugo stepped forward and spoke. “I’m sorry, I would like to see who else is available as well?”

He didn’t look at the lion. He didn’t want to see the insecurity he’d tried to dispel earlier in his eyes again. There was nothing wrong with asking.

The woman looked at Bakugo and nodded. “There is obviously Eijiro, who is a lion and does the full host experience.” She then gestured to a couch behind her where three other male hybrids sat.

“Izuku, the bunny, Shinsou, the raven, and Shoto, the cat.”

Bakugo looked at each of them. The green bunny hybrid was cute, but too twink for his tastes. The purple haired raven had a scowl on his face and Bakugo been distressed enough for one night. And the white and red cat looked completely disinterested.

Then Bakugo’s gaze found its way back to the red lion who was still holding his hand. He had been right, there was ghosting insecurity in those crimson eyes, but also genuine interest and desire. Gently, Bakugo squeezed his hand.

“Kirishima, please.”

Bakugo stepped up to the host stand and took care of the business aspect of it. Without balking at the price, he paid for Kirishima’s time for the entire night until close. Ruby eyes widened at that, but he said nothing.

The scheduler went over the rules with Bakugo, explaining he only had to go as far as he wanted, and he was under no obligation to have sex. There were other rules that were just common human decency so they went in one ear and out the other.

“Have a good evening,” the scheduler said, waving as Kirishima dragged Bakugo back towards his room again.

He hurried to keep up with the lion. Once again he found himself in Kirishima’s “Den of Manliness”. He had caught the title plaque as they entered this time. Kirishima sat on the edge of the bed and patted where he’d sat him not 10 minutes earlier.

Bakugo took the spot and sat, nervously glancing at the red lion.

“I’m—“

“It’s okay, really. It’s not wrong of you to see all your potential options before choosing. I didn’t help you with your panic attack so you’d pay me. That’s not manly.” His nose scrunched up at the thought.

Bakugo relaxed at that. But then tensed up a moment later when he remembered he was in Kirishima’s private room with a host who knew he wanted sex. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe he’d thank him and just go home, and then the sweet lion could have the night off without losing pay.

“Hey,” he purred, gently wrapping his strong arms around Bakugo’s waist. “Focus on me, yeah? You’re spiraling again, sweet thing.”

The lion’s warmth made him melt, and he leaned into him.

“Sorry. I’ve just never done anything like this before. Earlier I was…I spiraled because I was thinking I was pathetic for being here. That I was someone who hosts wouldn’t even want to spend time with even if I paid them.”

The big lion listened carefully and gently pulled Bakugo in close. “Can I pull you into my lap?” He nodded. Kirishima did. A deep rumble started in his chest and vibrated Kats’ soul. His lion was purring for him.

“When I saw you walk in, I knew I had to come talk to you. Then I watched as you rushed to the bar and got water and started to have a panic attack. Before I could even think my body had moved to you on its own. And I just wanted to make you feel safe. But you’re also drop dead gorgeous. And if this was just a regular club, I would have hit on you anyway.” His head leaned down towards Bakugo’s face and hot breath washed over his skin, making him shiver. The purring caused Kiri’s voice to reverberate as he spoke.

“I’d love to fuck you.” That was a little more growled than purred. “But I just want to make you happy tonight. So, we will do whatever you want to do, sweet thing.”

Kirishima’s big head nuzzled against Kats’ face and neck, purring louder, hands rubbing up and down his sides. Bakugo relaxed. His ministrations successful, the lion grinned and puffed out his chest more.

Kats’ hands shook a little as he reached for Kiri’s shirt, slowly unbuttoning the plaid to reveal toned abs and firm pecs. Kirishima’s torso was all skin, no fur. Bakugo bit his bottom lip between his teeth and ran a trembling hand down the smooth, hard planes.

The lion purred louder, the noise dropping another octave and sounding closer to an aroused growl. His shirt was discarded, and Kats saw that the fur on his arms was like sleeves, going all the way to his shoulders. Kiri leaned back and rested on his forearms, giving Bakugo space to explore him.

Heat spread in Bakugo’s body again and his hips moved on their own against the lion, aching for friction. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he did it. Kats looked up to see crimson eyes burning with desire for him.

“Tell me what you want, little one,” Kirishima growled, cupping his face with a hot hand.

“You. Please,” Bakugo requested, his body feeling like it was buzzing. He ached. His cock stirred to life in his pants

“You’re so fucking hot, Eijiro.”

Bakugo’s lips and tongue danced across the lion’s pecs and he slowly kissed down hard abs, licking along the V gutters accentuating his hips. Kirishima tasted salty and musky, a musk that flooded his nostrils as Kiri growled his appreciation.

It was heady and hot, primal. He was primal. Bakugo looked back up at him and found crimson eyes watching intently. Kirishima was a certifiable predator but this time his hungry gaze didn’t make Kats feel like prey. It just made him feel wanted.

Deft despite shaking, his fingers reached for the lion’s jeans. Kats’ eyes darted up to silently ask permission. The whistle and rustle of Kiri’s tail swishing behind him sounded. His head dipped in a quick nod.

As Kats’ fingers swiftly undid the button on his jeans the musky scent intensified in time with a deeper rumble sinking into the lion’s chest. His curiosity got the better of him and he pressed his nose to Kiri’s abs again. One deep inhale later he was near dizzy.

“Careful, sweet thing, too much of my pheromones might make you sick.”

Despite having this hybrid kink for as long as he could remember having sexual desire and being obsessed with them his entire life, Bakugo had never heard a single word about pheromones.

“Pheromones?” he asked, gently pulling the zipper on his jeans down. Kiri’s red boxers finally came into view.

Kirishima let out another low, growly rumble. “Mhmm, they are chemical messengers my body releases to communicate with other hybrids.” A pause, he sat up and leaned down, his hot breath was right in Bakugo’s ear.

“Or potential mates.”

The warmth of his breath and the words he had spoken made Kats shiver. His cock ached again and a whimper escaped his lips.

“M-mate?” Bakugo barely stuttered it out.

“Mmmm. Mhmm.” He hummed it low in his chest. “Lion hybrids like me can have casual sex, and we often do. But we can also pair bond to a mate if they are suitable and they accept us, of course.”

“Wait, mating for life?” Bakugo asked, bewildered. The rituals of more exotic hybrids like lions had much less literature available. So he wasn’t sure.

“Mmm. Not quite. Like in a real lion pride, a male can be overpowered by a stronger, more fit male who will drive away the previous lion mate and take the partner for himself, if their mate is interested in the new male that is.”

“Huh, interesting…” It was Bakugo’s turn to pause. “Why are you releasing pheromones? I’m just…a guest of yours…a client…” Another deep breath. “I’m work, a job. Which is totally fine! I didn’t come here looking for anything more than sex. But…yeah..why?”

Kirishima leaned forward again and rubbed his face against Bakugo’s, the corner of his mouth dragged along his jaw and neck, ears twitching and tickling Kats’ cheeks. Kats let out a gentle laugh as Kiri nuzzled and marked him with his scent.

“Yes, I am at work. Yes, you did pay me for my company. But like I said earlier: the second I laid eyes on you I wanted to know you. My body’s responding to those desires. My innate attraction to you. My interest in you.”

For a few moments Bakugo was stunned again. That musky smell was…intoxicating. It had gotten stronger as Kiri had spoken. Was he accidentally spurring Kiri on? Accidentally tempting him to make this…more than just a hosting session?

Bakugo’s mouth opened and closed multiple times as he was at a loss for words. He remembered that one of the rules that he’d barely paid attention to was don’t ask the hosts out. But what if one of the hosts asked him?

“That seems like it’s more than your job title covers. Are you okay? I can leave if you’re having some sort of reaction to me that you shouldn’t,” Bakugo offered as he started to slide off the lion’s lap.

A low, vibrating growl came from deep within Eijiro’s chest and his big hands settled on Bakugo’s hips. Those hands firmly pulled him right back where he’d been just before. The growl sounded scary, but it didn’t make him feel threatened, it was just a warning.

“No. Stay, please.” The lion took a deep, shuddered breath and looked down at him. “I’m sorry I brought up the mates thing. We don’t have to discuss that. You wanted me, let’s just focus on that tonight, yeah?”

Bakugo swallowed nervously again and nodded in agreement. The sexy lion smiled back, his sharp teeth flashing. He leaned down again and nuzzled against Bakugo’s neck, warm full lips peppering kisses along the sensitive skin there.

He inhaled sharply as the kisses made him shiver. Bakugo pulled the lion’s face up, tangling his hands in Kirishima’s thick mane, and kissed him. They both moaned into the kiss and Bakugo’s hips thrust up, seeking friction against his cock.

Kirishima’s large hand pressed into Bakugo’s front. The blonde’s head threw back as the lion palmed his hard on through his pants. A low growl came from the bigger man.

“Like that baby?” His big palm worked in an up and down motion over his cock.

Bakugo whimpered quietly and nodded. “Y-yeah…”

Those full lips captured his again and one hand worked his cock over, starting to create a wet spot of precum on his jeans, while the other pulled off Bakugo’s shirt, breaking the kiss for a second. But only for a second. 

Hot lips crashed back into his and worked his mouth and cock in tandem, making him dizzy. Bakugo tried to keep up with Kirishima’s fervent movements and was quickly swept away. The lion was skilled.

Bakugo gasped and pulled away, “W-Wait.”

Kirishima froze and red eyes softened with concern. “What’s wrong? Do we need to stop?”

The blonde shook his head and took a deep breath, “What if… what if I’m not good? I’m not a virgin but I’ve never been with a hybrid. I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Kirishima’s eyes widened and he looked down at Bakugo. “Wait, you’re worried about my pleasure?”

Bakugo blinked, “Um, duh?”

Laughter so warm and joyous spilled from the lion’s mouth, shaking Bakugo who was still firmly in his lap. The lion wrapped strong arms around the smaller man and lay back on the bed, pulling him down on top of him.

Bakugo let him, though his hands roved over Kirishima’s lap and felt…nothing?

“No one’s ever cared about my pleasure before, just what I could do for them. That’s new for me.” He noticed Bakugo’s confusion and lifted him off his lap, shucking his pants and boxers. The crimson fur covered his entire legs up to his hips, almost like hip high thigh-highs.

Resting between them was a heavy sac, covered in the same smooth crimson as his tail. But above that was a sheath, just like he’d seen in canine hybrids. There was a peak of something pointed and pink in the center.

“I’ve been holding back getting too worked up. A lot of clients like to see it come out,” Kirishima explained, smiling at Bakugo. “I didn’t want to take that away from you if you wanted it. It’s not that I’m not turned on by you, trust me.”

Bakugo nodded, nervously biting his lip. “I wasn’t worried about, um, watching you get aroused.”

Kirishima smirked and cupped Bakugo’s chin in one big clawed hand. “Alright then, sweet thing.”

Before his eyes, a long, thick, and seemingly…barbed?! cock emerged from Kirishima’s sheath. The head wasn’t rounded like humans, it was more pointed and slim, with hardly any flare between head and shaft. Along the cock were small, flesh colored barbs that pointed towards the head.

Bakugo’s eyes widened and he scooted back. “Wait, I'd heard of cats having barbs but I didn’t know hybrids did too!”

Kirishima saw his alarm and sat up, gently reaching for him to grab his hand. “Whoa, whoa, calm down, sweet thing. It won’t hurt you. I promise. They’re not keratin like actual cats. It’s somewhere between cartilage and regular skin. They’re soft. Feel.”

The lion gently guided Bakugo’s hand towards the thick, seemingly barbed cock. He slowly ran his fingertips over the shaft, it was smooth and soft, just like a human dick. The “barbs” were flexible and moved under his fingers, they were also completely soft, no sharpness to them.

“So…do they just bend backwards when you thrust in or jack off? Does it hurt?” Bakugo asked, fascinated.

Kirishima reached down and wrapped a big hand around his cock. Jesus, even in his big hands it still looked huge. He stroked it a few times, causing a bead of precum to leak from the pointed head. As his hand stroked along, the little barbs splayed backwards before settling back flat after his hand passed over them.

“It doesn’t hurt?”

“Nope, they’re meant to do that. It’s supposed to stimulate the inner walls and cause pleasure.” Sharp teeth flashed again as the lion smirked.

Bakugo’s mouth opened in a big O as he listened, a dark flush of red returning to his cheeks. Kirishima’s big hands settled on his hips again and pulled Bakugo back into the lion’s lap. Clawed fingers undid his jeans quickly and rolled him onto his back, pulling boxers and jeans off in one fell swoop.

Crimson eyes met crimson eyes and both their chests rose and fell quickly as they took in each other’s naked forms. Kirishima’s hair fell around them like thick scarlet curtains. His lion leaned in and those full lips finally captured his own.

A slutty, unabated moan escaped Bakugo’s lips as he kissed Kiri back. He wrapped his hands around the big man’s neck and buried his fingers in the thick scarlet tresses. Pulling the lion closer, he wrapped his legs around his hips, and ground his cock into the smooth, bumpy planes of Kiri’s abs.

That pulled another growl from the lion’s chest. A hot tongue ran over Bakugo’s lips, seeking entrance. As another moan escaped them as the lion pressed down against his cock.

When his lips opened Kirishima pushed his thick, long tongue into his mouth. Bakugo lapped against it with his own and discovered small, micro versions of the barbs from his cock on his tongue. And the warm metal of a tongue piercing in the middle.

Their tongues swirled and danced together, the texture of Kirishima’s tongue and the ball of his piercing making Bakugo’s head spin. His cock throbbed against the lion’s abs as they moved against each other.

Heat was already dripping and pooling in Bakugo’s belly. The feel of Kirishima’s furred hands on his slim waist and the taste of his tongue in his mouth was overwhelming. He was already getting close. A flex of abs made him moan loud into the red head’s mouth.

“Kiri,” he gasped into the lion’s mouth. “G-gonna.”

The lion grinned and kissed from the corner of his mouth to his ear. A low, purred growl echoed in Bakugo’s ear. “Go ahead, sweet thing. Paint my abs with your cum.”

Bakugo’s hips bucked hard against his abs and he bit his bottom lip, trying hard not to cum. He didn’t want to be pathetic.

“Oh, no, no, no. Not my sweet thing holding back. Don’t be embarrassed, I’m so happy you’re feeling good and enjoying yourself. We have all night. Cum for me, sweet thing. Cum for me.”

With a cry of, “Kirishima!” Bakugo’s eyes rolled back in his head, his back arched into Kirishima’s abs, and his hips stuttered as his cock throbbed against the muscles. He came, and god did he cum hard.

Thick ropes of white cum painted both their abs as Bakugo’s cock pulsed between them. Kirishima growled with pleasure and nipped at Bakugo’s ear. “There you go, sweet thing, there you go. Bet that feels real good, doesn’t it?”

The purr that started rumbling in the lion’s chest made Bakugo gasp as it made his abs vibrate and continue to stimulate his still hard cock. He pulled his hips back, needing a second to breathe.

“God my mate is so pretty,” Kirishima moaned against Bakugo’s neck. His beautifully textured tongue ran up the column of Bakugo’s neck. Full lips wrapped around his pulse point and sharp teeth scraped against his skin.

Bakugo shivered again and whimpered. Kirishima reached between them and ran his fingers through the thick cum there and brought the white coated fingers to his mouth. He sucked them clean and moaned around them.

“And his cum tastes good, too,” the lion moaned again.

“Fuck,” Bakugo whimpered, “you can’t just say stuff like that…” His cock was already throbbing and hard again.

The lion’s big head lifted and he grinned down at him. “Of course I can, I want you to know how much I adore you. You aren’t like other guests. I actually want to fuck your brains out.”

He leaned back in and hot breath washed over Bakugo’s neck. “I’d mate you in a heartbeat if you wanted me to. My bite would go right here.” His hot tongue lapped wetly over his neck before settling at the base where it met his shoulder. Those sharp teeth nipped at the spot and the blonde moaned again.

Kirishima growl-purred again and his lips wrapped around the spot. He sucked the skin there between his teeth, nipping at it while making Bakugo writhe and moan like a whore beneath him. The delicious pressure on the sensitive skin shot pleasure right to his aching cock.

“W-what would it mean? If you bit me?” he blabbered out through a moan.

Another growl rumbled through the lion’s chest and his pupils dilated. The musk smell filled Bakugo’s nose again and his eyes fluttered, that delightful dizziness buzzing in his brain. The growl made Kirishima’s teeth vibrate against his skin.

“It would mean you would be mine. You’d be my mate, pair bonded with me for life. You’d only ever be with me for the rest of your life. I’d still need to be a host for work but if you wanted me to stop having sex with others I’d stop. We’d live together. We’d be mates, lovers, a real couple.”

Kiri’s jaw twitched and his teeth pressed against the skin again, pulling another moan from Bakugo. “But it’s not something to be taken lightly. I need enthusiastic consent. And I should probably take you on a date first —”

“Please. I’ve never wanted anyone like I’ve wanted you before. You are so incredibly beautiful. Sexy. Handsome. Kind. You are everything…I’d be so lucky to be yours,” Bakugo begged.

Kirishima growled again, those big clawed hands gripped his waist tighter, his jaw twitching with the urge to mark this perfect little mate. “Please, Eijiro, make me yours. If you want me.”

With another, low, possessive growl those big, sharp teeth sunk into the soft flesh of Bakugo’s neck. He cried out in a combination of pleasure and pain. His cock throbbing as the sensations went straight to it. Fingers tugged hard on scarlet locks and he arched into his new mate.

Then Eijiro started purring and the dizziness gave way to a feeling of euphoria, warmth, and bliss. Bakugo relaxed into the plush bed and let out a sigh. The musky pheromones the lion was giving off now smelled divine.

“Pretty little mate,” the lion purred, lapping at the bite mark. The texture of his tongue along the fresh wound made Bakugo’s eyes roll back and a fresh groan escaped his lips.

Full lips closed around it and tended it, lapping and sucking eagerly, darkening the skin on and around the bite mark. Beautifully so, if you asked Kirishima. The dark mark with the shape of his teeth marked his mate as his.

Those lips crashed back against Bakugo’s and there was a hint of copper still on them as they proceeded to dance together once more. They felt more in sync this time, each stroke of a tongue or twist was matched easily by the other.

Both men moaned into each other’s mouths, bodies moving against one another. Bakugo’s aching cock rubbed against the lion’s abs again, gliding easily due to the cum that still painted them. Kirishima’s rock hard, textured cock was pooling precum on Bakugo’s thigh.

Kirishima pulled away and slowly kissed and licked his way down Bakugo’s neck to his pecs. That long, thick tongue circled his perky nipple and the blonde’s back arched off the bed, pushing that plump pec further into the lion’s mouth. The ball of his tongue piercing flicked against the hardened nub.

“Oh fuck,” Bakugo groaned.

He was rewarded with further purring that vibrated that little piece of metal against his surprisingly sensitive nipple. Kirishima’s sharp teeth gently dragged along the delicate flesh and Bakugo hissed. Those sharp teeth bit down around his nipple and left perfect imprints of his teeth.

“Fuck!” Bakugo whined, pleasured tears springing in his eyes.

Those crimson eyes rolled back as the lion continued to ravish his chest, sucking and licking on each nipple in turn, those clawed hands squeezing and kneading the ample muscles. Bakugo started to feel like he was floating, soaring higher into the clouds with each bite Kirishima decorated his pecs with.

He felt the hot wetness of that textured tongue drag down his abs. A purred groan left the lion’s throat as his tongue lapped up all the white that was adorning his chiseled stomach. Teeth continued to sink into soft skin and hard muscles.

When Kirishima finally swallowed the last of Bakugo’s cum and sat back, his little mate was spotted with bite marks. Most prominent of which was the one at the base of his neck, deep purple in hue. The lion growled in pleased joy at the sight, his massive cock twitching.

Leaning back in, his long tongue swirled around Bakugo’s aching, throbbing cock. The blissfully textured tongue cleaned it of the rest of his mate’s salty, delicious cum. Kiri’s tongue was long enough it looped around the aching member and swirled around it, rewarding him with a strangled moan from his mate.

Bakugo couldn’t believe it. He looked down and saw his lion’s mouth open, those sharp teeth glinting in the light. His pupils were still blown wide and his feline ears twitched on the top of his head. That pierced tongue was still wrapped around his cock and working it over.

This was so much better than any fantasy he had ever had. Calloused fingers wove back into that scarlet mane and he gently urged his new mate down. “S-suck me off, please? Please? ”

With a growl, Kirishima had opened his mouth and sunk his lips down on the hot, throbbing length. Bakugo’s hips bucked up and pushed his cock to the back of the lion’s hot, tight throat. Kiri growled and started to devour Bakugo’s cock in a way that made him see stars.

He’d never had a blowjob this good. With each bob of his mate’s head, his full lips ran along the length, that agile tongue swirled around it, and the pressure as he sucked was making him dizzy. The pressure was already building in his belly again.

“K-Kirishima! I-I’m!” The only response he got was more intense sucking and faster head bobbing. He whined out, his orgasm barreling down on him.

Bakugo screamed out as he exploded on his lion’s tongue and down his throat. Kiri groaned and swallowed it all down, lapping Bakugo’s over sensitive cock clean. He quivered and whined softly.

“S-sensitive.”

Kirishima immediately pulled off and sat back, looking at the beautiful visage of his mate in bliss. He was covered in his bites and sweat glistened on his pale skin. A soft purred growl left his chest as he closed his big hand around his huge cock.

Using the precum that was leaning from it profusely as lube, Kiri stroked a clawed hand up and down his massive length, head tilted back with a groan. His hips bucked into his own hand, and he wanted so desperately to be buried balls deep in his little mate.

As he stroked himself, he looked back down at his blonde human. His voice reverberated with the purr that was still emanating from his chest. “Do you top or bottom, baby? I usually top but I know my…anatomy can be intimidating, regardless of my size.”

Bakugo’s vermillion eyes fluttered open and he took a deep breath. “I..usually I’m a bottom. I’ll be anything you want me to be.” 

His deep voice was so loving and earnest it made Kirishima groan and growl, tapered head dropping more precum onto the bedspread below.

“Are you comfortable taking my cock, little mate? It’s big and if you’ve never used toys with texture before it might be…overwhelming,” Kiri purred gently, still stroking his length.

The lion was composed externally, but inside his instincts were screaming that he needed to seal the deal on his little mate. That he needed to shove his lion cock balls deep in his little hole, bite him again, and then scent mark him with his pheromones all over so everyone would smell his claim.

His massive cock throbbed in his furred hand, the little fleshy barbs making him shake. They weren’t just for his mate’s pleasure after all. The precum matted his fur but allowed for a perfectly smooth glide up and down the length.

Bakugo’s crimson eyes were fixated on that big, furred, clawed hand as it stroked up and down his mate’s lion cock. It really was huge. Even in the lion’s big hand it looked unusually large. Kats doubted he could wrap his hand completely around it. He would need two. How would it fit?

“I-I…I want to take it,” resolve steely in Bakugo’s voice, “But it’s so big. I don’t think it will fit. I’ve never taken anything even close to that big before….” He couldn’t keep the quiver out of his voice as he said it.

Kirishima’s cock lunged with desire at that and the lion bit his lip to hold back a moan. Fuck. His little mate just had to say the perfect words that triggered his size kink, didn’t he?

“Fuck,” the lion growled, leaning back over his mate and caging him in with one hand next to his head. He captured his sweet lips with his own and pushed his thick tongue into his mouth.

Bakugo moaned out his appreciation and danced his tongue along Kiri’s, chasing the salty taste of his own cum that still lingered. Kirishima’s hips thrust into his own hand as they made out, the monster drooling precum onto Bakugo’s still recovering soft cock. He growled into his mate’s mouth and pushed his tongue deeper into the depths, the tip tickling the back of his throat.

Pulling back suddenly, a thick line of saliva connected their lips, Kirishima panted and observed his mate. “Gonna prep you with my tongue, ‘kay? Then I’ll use a toy. My claws don’t exactly lend well for it so I can’t finger you.”

“You’re...gonna eat my ass ?” Bakugo whispered the last part, feeling embarrassed. “I-I didn’t shower before I came. Just this morning, I wasn’t expecting to need to be that clean.”

“Shhh, it’s okay little mate, sweet thing. I don’t mind, so long as it’s still okay with you that I do it. Is it?” he asked it softly while nuzzling his cheek against his mate’s, resuming his calming purrs.

The tightness that started rising in Bakugo’s chest eased and he let out a shaky breath, inhaling the alluring musk that the lion was releasing. It made the noise in his brain dissipate and let him resume floating in the bliss of being with his mate like this. The blonde nodded and sighed softly.

“If it’s not gross to you, I’m okay with it,” he finally breathed out.

Kirishima wasted no time, a large grin spreading across his face. He shuffled down and placed himself between Bakugo’s legs. Large hands gently moved to the backs of his thighs and pressed them up to his chest, exposing that little pucker to him.

Kirishima licked his lips to clear the drool that was threatening to drip from them. He leaned down and kissed across the backs of Bakugo’s thighs, biting lightly and peppering the unmarked skin with pretty bite marks.

Hungrily he sucked a hickey into the seam of his thigh and ass cheek, earning himself a whine from his mate. He let out a slow, hot exhale over Bakugo’s rim and watched as it flexed and quivered in response with another whimper.

A hungry smirk overtook his grin and he dove in. Sloppy, open mouthed kisses assaulted Bakugo’s hole and crack. Each little sound that he let out spurred the lion on further. He flattened his textured tongue and lapped over the rim, feeling it quiver. His mate bucked as his piercing dragged over it.

The manly, sweaty-salty, musky taste filled Kirishima’s mouth. A low, pleased growl rumbled and vibrated his tongue as he circled the rim with the tip of the muscle. Above him, Bakugo was letting out whimpers and whines with each breath.

Each circle and flat lap of his tongue meant the ring relaxed a little more. Finally, Kirishima nudged the center of the hole with the tip, pressing experimentally. When he found no resistance, the textured muscle pushed in beyond that tight gate and into heavenly warmth.

Bakugo had been eaten out before, but never before by a hybrid. Kirishima’s textured tongue added extra stimulation that made him nearly dizzy. When he pushed in, it wasn’t smooth like a human’s. He felt that texture with each inch of it that sunk beyond his rim.

It was soft but felt like a million little micro tentacles danced against his hole as the lion’s tongue dove deeper. Bakugo groaned loudly and his eyes rolled back as his mate’s huge tongue pushed even deeper inside and flicked against the special spot hidden in his depths.

“Ah! E-Eijiro, there!” he cried, begging further.

Kirishima was more than happy to oblige, thrusting his tongue in and out of Bakugo’s pretty hole, flicking the tip against his prostate with each pass. His mate was falling apart on his tongue, whining and trying to squirm, but big hands kept him still.

Pulling his tongue out Kirishima lapped around and over the hole a few more times. Drool slid from his lips and down his chin, similarly running down Bakugo’s crack and pooling between supple cheeks. With a firm press the lion thrust his tongue back in kept fucking it into his mate.

“Nnghh, E-Eijiro!” Bakugo whined, pleasured tears pooling on his waterline.

Another growl, and with his tongue inside like it was, pressed right against his prostate, it made Bakugo cry out and see galaxies. The blonde’s hands fisted the sheets tightly, trying to hold on like his life depended on it.

Kirishima felt Bakugo’s balls draw up and away from his forehead and glanced up, seeing his lover’s cock was fully hard again and throbbing in time with the thrusts of his tongue. His mate could give him two more, certainly he could, right?

Opening his mouth wider, Kirishima fucked his tongue in harder and faster, flicking the textured tip right up against that swollen inner spot, purring to make his tongue a natural vibrator. Red eyes stared as Bakugo’s cock jolted and throbbed over and over again.

With a solid push, Kirishima pressed his tongue in deeper and rubbed it all over Bakugo’s prostate, lapping at it eagerly, attacking the spot with fervor. He was readily awarded with his mate screaming out and that pretty cock erupting for a third time with white, violently pulsing but only dribbling out a few thick globs that ran down the shaft.

Reaching under his bed and pulling out a toy that was tapered in size, starting as thick as his tongue before slowly increasing to the thickness of his cock, Kirishima sat up and withdrew his tongue. He was a messy eater and his mate’s asshole was completely drenched in his drool. No additional lube needed.

Taking the toy by its flared base, he gently pressed it to Bakugo’s relaxed rim. He fed his mate’s ass the toy slowly. Vigilantly he watched the human’s face for any signs of distress as it increased in thickness.

“That’s it sweet thing, just breathe for me, relax and breathe. Just think about how good my big cock is gonna feel balls deep inside you. Yeah? You want me inside?” Kirishima’s purred voice asked.

Bakugo could only whimper in response. He wanted it more than anything. He wanted to fuck a hybrid more than he wanted to breathe. He wanted to fuck his mate more than he wanted his next breath.

“Good, good job, sweet thing. Stay nice and relaxed for me. You’re doing such a good job. So perfect for me, my perfect little mate,” he purred, finally pushing the toy in fully.

He held it still and let his mate adjust to the thickness that was the same as his massive cock. Smashing his lips against a dazed Bakugo’s, he shared the flavor of himself on his tongue once again. Bakugo moaned at how filthy it all was and his ass squeezed around the toy with need.

They made out for a few minutes, lips and tongues moving in perfect harmony. When they pulled apart, lips were puffy and swollen from the intensity, but Bakugo was finally ready for the main event.

Kirishima slowly pulled the toy out of his mate and grabbed the lube from the bedside, applying it to his cock and stroking it with his hand to make sure it’s nice and warm for his little mate. “Ready?”

Bakugo’s crimson eyes met vermillion ones, and he nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, fuck me, please god fuck me.”

With a growl, Kirishima surged forward and buried himself to the base in one smooth, hard thrust, losing control for a split second. Bakugo screamed in pleasure and his eyes squeezed shut. His soft cock erupted with a clear fluid as he came a fourth time and squirted for his mate.

“Fuck,” it was completely growled, low, barely English. “That was so fucking hot!”

The lion was shaking with restraint, watching his little mate pant and whimper on his cock. He needed to hold still. He’d overstimulate Bakugo if he started fucking him now.

Still, the massive thing twitched and throbbed inside, aching and urging him to move. But his mate’s enjoyment was more important than his instincts right now. He wouldn’t be a slave to his primal needs.

“How are you doing?” he purred, cupping Bakugo’s face with his clean hand.

The blonde nuzzled into his big hand and a dreamy smile blossomed on his lips. “I’m amazing. Fuck me now?”

He said it so sweetly, Kirishima’s heart clenched, and he leaned down to capture that pretty face in a loving kiss. He started slowly, rolling his hips so his cock pulled almost all the way out and then slowly sank back in. Bakugo gasped against his lips.

“Oh my god it’s…it’s indescribable,” he whined, grabbing Kirishima’s forearms and digging his nails in.

It truly was, as the lion slowly pushed and pulled his massive cock in and out of him it felt like he was going to split in two. But on top of that, each of those little “barbs” gently stroked his walls as the lion pushed in. The girth stretched him and the texture tantalized and teased.

He was shaking and trembling with each thrust, gasping. Holding on to Kirishima like the was pounding him with all his might when he was just gently making love to him. But that cock those barbs made everything more intense by a hundredfold.

“Doing okay, sweet thing?” Kirishima growled out. The lion was shaking too, but with restraint. He needed to pound Bakugo with all his strength and prove his might as a mate, but he could see how intense just this was for him.

Bakugo couldn’t speak anymore, he only whimpered and nodded shakily. His crimson eyes wide and begging for more. He tugged at the lion’s arms, urging him to go faster, harder.

“Once I start, I won’t be able to stop, I need to fuck you and claim you, little mate. My instincts won’t let me stop when I start.” That deep voice was strained with the effort of holding himself back.

A nervous flash crossed Bakugo’s face and Kirishima let out a shaky breath, “Just tell me stop or tap my arm three times if it’s too much and I’ll make myself stop. Okay? I’d never hurt you.”

Bakugo relaxed at that and nodded his permission. Kirishima growled again and dove in to kiss him, slamming his hips into his ass hard. He drank his mate’s pleasured scream and encircled his big hands around that slutty little waist. Using his grip as leverage Kirishima pounded into Bakugo’s ass with more strength than the human could fathom.

Each thrust rewarded the lion with a scream that he swallowed greedily. His heavy balls smacked against Bakugo’s perfectly supple cheeks and the sound of skin on skin echoed throughout the room. The bed creaked in protest, it wasn’t used to his level of abuse. Kirishima never let go with clients like this, ever.

But Bakugo wasn’t just a client, not anymore. He was his everything. His reason to exist. His heart, his soul, his mate, his life. All pinned beneath him and beautifully taking his massive feline cock. Kirishima’s tail swished behind them eagerly. 

Kirishima was growling and purring, groaning when Bakugo’s hole clenched around him as he stroked that special spot inside with the head of his cock. His hands gripped that slim waist hard and pulled his pretty mate down onto his cock as he thrust up. The blonde’s eyes were closed but he still screamed for him.

The sensations were starting to get to the lion. His mate was so hot and tight inside, it felt like he was trying to milk the cum right from his massive cock. But he would last. His mate would cum first, he would always cum first. And Kirishima wanted him to feel better than he’d ever felt before.

Using his hand that still had lube on it he wrapped it around Bakugo’s cock, which was hard again. It wasn’t small by any means, it was actually well above average, but in the lion’s hand it did look small. It just reminded him how much bigger he was than his mate, which made him shiver and his cock twitch inside him.

Kirishima started stroking his mate in time with his thrusts. The blonde’s eyes flew open and his back arched, causing them both to moan loudly as his cock sank deeper into his velvety depths. They were both moaning and grunting in an animalistic way, and Kirishima thrust and pumped harder, chasing their releases like prey.

“One more little mate, give me one more. You can do it. Let me make you feel better than anyone else ever has in your life. I love you. Come on. Cum for me one more time.”

He angled his hips to hit Bakugo’s prostate with each thrust and his mate screamed. The pointed head and stimulation of the soft barbs dragging across that nerve cluster had Bakugo cumming in seconds. He screamed at the top of his lungs, “Eijiro!” as his balls drew up and his cock pulsed, but nothing came out, his mate was cumming dry for him.

“Fuck! Katsuki!” the lion roared, slamming in one last time and falling over the edge himself at the sight of his mate cumming dry, for him.

Sharp teeth sank back into Bakugo’s neck as Kirishima emptied his heavy balls deep inside his little mate’s hole. He growled and roared around his neck, seeing stars he was cumming so hard.

His legs shook and he collapsed on his side, completely spent, rolling onto his back to pull Bakugo onto his chest. Leaning in to kiss his mate’s cheek he saw that the pleasure had overwhelmed his little lover and he’d passed out.

Kirishima settled in and gently rubbed his mate’s back, purring lovingly to soothe him. He peppered his face with kisses and then laid back. He was mated, to the perfect little human mate.

Nose buried in messy blonde locks, the lion inhaled the scent that had drawn him across the club in the first place. Smoky, spicy cinnamon filled his nostrils. His mate’s natural pheromones smelled like smokey, spicy cinnamon and male musk.

The purring got stronger as Kirishima realized how happy he was. So, truly happy.

A few hours later when Katsuki woke up, there were still several hours before the club closed for the night. The two cuddled close and exchanged numbers before Kirishima spoke up:

“Want to go dancing?” the lion’s eyes were lit up and that sunshine grin was back on his face.

Bakugo had grabbed his tail and was playing with the tuft of fur on the end. Kirishima purred louder as his mate played with it. “Dancing?” the blonde asked.

“Yeah! There’s the dance floor out in the club! The DJ has really good taste and it’s a lot of fun! Cm’on, I’m sure you’ll love it!” Kirishima had already sat up, accidentally sending Bakugo tumbling off his lap in his excitement.

“Oops, sorry baby.”

Big, warm hands helped Bakugo right himself. They donned robes and quickly hit the showers before returning to pull on their clothes. Next thing Bakugo knew, the giant lion, now his mate, was dragging him out into the loud bass of the dance floor.

The lights arrived and pulsed with the music and Kirishima’s grin only got wider as he started dancing. Well, if you could call it dancing. He more just jumped to the rhythm and fist pounded in the air. But Gods did he look so sexy and happy doing it. His long scarlet hair bounced with every jump.

Bakugo couldn’t help but grin and dance too, actually moving his hips and having a little bit of style to his movements. He wasn’t anxious anymore. How could he be when this hybrid, this embodiment of sunshine, was his lover and mate?

They danced for the rest of the night, getting completely sweaty and gross but laughing all the while. Bakugo loved that smile, the one that lit up the hybrid’s face and made his ears perk up. On the last song Kirishima scooped him up, “Up we go baby!”

Bakugo settled on his mate’s shoulders and he could see the entire club. It was incredible, actually. But after taking an initial glance around he looked down and locked eyes with the only thing in this whole place that mattered: Eijiro.

“I’m so happy I came tonight,” Bakugo said.

Kirishima beamed back up at him: “Me too!”

“I love you, Red.”

The lion had already been beaming, but now it was like someone turned it to the intensity of the actual sun and added happy tears. “I love you, too!”

That night they went home to Katsuki’s place together, and it was the first night of the rest of their lives together as mates. They couldn’t wait to see what life had in store for them next.

My Masterlist

Find me on Bluesky!

Find me on AO3!

[murakamiyuki]

A Silver Lining

You're a healer in a party of adventurers! Unfortunately, you seem to be the side character of their story. While your friends bask in the glory and love, you're brushed aside into the shadows, along with your orc friend. One day, during yet another dangerous mission, an accident happens, and you and your party split up. Who knows... Maybe could a disaster turn into an opportunity to finally forge your own story?

A/N: OKAY, I wrote this in a flash after I read a tumblr post, and the muse decided that I had to suffer until I write a full fanfic for it, so here you go! @blossompencil I have finally finished it >W< What do you think? 👉👈

Read on Ao3

Masterlist

Your eyes are blurry, barely able to catch the shape of the forest around you. Your lungs tighten with each move as you try to avoid inhaling the nasty smoke. Flames tickle your skin, and it would definitely burn you, leaving an array of nasty scars had it not been for a protective layer you cast upon yourself and your party. Your ears are filled with the sounds of a fierce fight in the dead of the night. Your muscles scream for a break after a continuous battle against the firebreathing salamander you never even agreed on. This is too much for a mere human like you.

In front of you is your teammate – orc Garon. He towers over you at a solid 7 feet. His giant form is a shield between the other smaller lizards and you. The steel poleaxe in his hands swings faster than your eyes can follow, but you cannot rest.

Your hands are raised, and your form is glowing as mana flows out of your body to follow your command – to protect your teammates. 

In the midst of chaos, you hear Leo, your leader, scream your name. Your eyes travel to his form—his sword raised in a protective stance as he pants hard—and you notice a bleeding gash on his shoulder. Your hands tremble, but you raise them anyway to heal a fresh cut. Soft green light emits from the tips of your fingers and travels all the way to Leo, and within a few seconds, the wound closes, leaving behind only a shredded piece of armor.

You’re shaking. Is it exhaustion after fighting for so long? Frustration at the sheer strength of the enemy? Or fury at your teammates who decided to bite off more than they could chew? You don’t know at this point.

However, on the other hand, you understand the reason behind it. All other adventures above the required level were scattered throughout on their respective missions. All but your party. And if the salamander isn’t defeated, it will simply burn all farms and crops, singlehandedly causing famish upon the entire city.

Still, as your knees buckle underneath you, you can’t help but internally curse your friends for dragging you out here.

“Cat! Heal!” Hareene, the elf, calls out for you. Her eyes are still trained on the salamander as she charges at its vitals with the sharp of her spear.

You ignore the nickname, focusing on your task of healing her burnt side until the skin looks as dainty as possible for an elf.

You breathe deeply to calm down your racing heart. The fiery scenery swims in your eyes. You try to blink away the black spots, but it only makes it worse. When you hear Garon call your name, you’re ready to fall dead from exhaustion.

“Just hold on a bit longer,” his own voice is breathless and rigid, yet the determination and a quiet promise of a reprise give you just a sliver of strength to stand firm.

‘Just a bit more…’ you think—hope—anxiously to yourself.

“Caaat!!!” You hear Saeka’s, the fairy mage, almost weeping voice somewhere above your head. You look up and see the flap of her sparkling wings carry her through the sky. She waves at you until you notice her bleeding ankle—an attack she barely managed to dodge. Reluctantly, you heal it too.

A tired sigh leaves your lips. Your mana is depleting much faster than you anticipated, especially having to sustain the fire-protecting barrier on 5 people, and the monster is way too stubborn to die. You don’t know just how much longer of this fight you can handle.

But then…

You hear it first. A pained cry of the salamander, loud enough to be heard all the way back in the city. The sound is so excruciating, that one might question the humanity of your actions.

Then, you see it. Peeking from behind Garon, you stare at Leo’s sword digging into the monster’s chest. Hareen managed to nail one of its paws to the ground with her spear. Meanwhile, Saeka continuously conjures ice spikes, dropping them all over the salamander’s spine.

‘This is it,’ you think.

‘Finally, it’s over,’ you pray.

Gathering the last bit of your might, you direct your mana to your teammates. Despite your muscles breaking, on the brink of consciousness, you concentrate on pronouncing—hopefully—the last spell in your head. Soon, a soft glow embraces their figures once again, and suddenly their strength is immaculate.

With a fierce cry, Leo drives the sword all the way through the scaled body and up to the head, finally killing the creature. Sparks fly from its fire glands before gradually diffusing into smoke.  Then, the salamander falls to the ground with a thunderous thud. At the same time, Saeka uses her magic to summon water, at last, putting out the fire.

You stare at its body for a short moment, heart pounding wildly in your chest, before releasing a shuddering breath. There’s a loud ringing in your ear. The stress of the situation finally begins wearing off, and your legs give out underneath you.

You plop down onto the grass, eyes closing while groaning as your muscles cry of relief. It has been a while since the last time a battle wore you down this much. You feel utterly spent and exhausted.

“Don’t relax just yet, Cat,” Saeka murmurs in your ear in that honey-sweet voice of hers. You force your eyes to open, and you find her crouched beside you, her long hair tickling the side of your face, and her wings down, resembling a cape. “We still gotta report the completed quest.”

“What’s gotten you so tired anyway, it’s not like we took much damage,” Hareene remarks when she and Leo join the rest of the team, he carries the salamander’s head as well. Her tone sounds annoyed. However, it could be because of the new set of armor she purchased for a big sum of money that was now in rather pitiful condition. “That cheapskate promised a high quality…”

You ignore her comment, too tired to argue with her.

“I guess I’m not gonna tell you I told you so,” Leo rolled his eyes which inevitably traveled to his own broken armor. He sighed in defeat but quickly recovered when another command fell from his lips. “Alright, warriors, let’s return!”

You want to protest, silently begging for another 5 minutes or days of rest. But the thought of a hot bath and a soft bed makes you almost whine. Thus, you push yourself off the ground with a grunt. Your whole body is in pain that you contemplate retirement. However, seeing your friends tired but unscathed, you can’t help but feel relieved and proud. They survived thanks to you.

Every step is painful. Your brain is still fuzzy, fighting desperately for a break, but you push back, hoping to at least reach the city before you allow yourself to fall into slumber. But then, you feel the world shift when you’re lifted into the air by something. Or better say, someone.

Garon hoists you up gently like you’re a delicate flower. He maneuvers you until you lie like a princess in his hold. The warmth of his green skin makes you tingle as a blush creeps up your face. Whether it was his natural temperature or the result of the fight, you aren’t sure, but you’re not complaining either when you finally relax into his embrace.

Garon might not be the most talkative person in the world, but the message in his gestures is perfectly clear.

“Nawwww, look at you two lovebirds~” Saeka teases while she hovers above the both of you.

“Shut up,” Garon’s voice is calm and nonchalant, but you swear you felt his fingers twitch and his skin heating up even more at the implication. You yourself can’t help but blush harder.

“Cat and Garon are sitting on a tree!” Saeka begins singing, swirling in the air. “K-I-S-S-S-S-S-S-I-N-G!”

“I think there’s one too many s’s,” Hareena chuckles despite the confused frown.

“Not if they’re doing it for a long time~” Saeka teases and proceeds to sprinkle you and Garon with fairy dust from her wings.

“Hey, stop that!” Garon growls, pressing you closer to his chest protectively. The action seems almost involuntary, but you notice.

“Ha! Make me!”

Distantly, you hear Saeka cast a spell again. You don’t have time to react—not like you could do much from your current position—when the world spins again, worsening your headache. You feel cold water coat your legs, then the realization dawns on you. Saeka just shot you with a water ball, and Garon was quick enough to turn around, allowing the water to land on his back.

“You menace-!” Garon is about to draw his poleaxe when your whimper of discomfort draws his attention and he resumes the steady pace.

“Lovebirds~”

“Quit fighting there!” Leo’s authoritative bark instantly seized any war that could’ve followed. He jerks his head forward, gesturing at something. “We’re here.”

The city couldn’t be more alive, despite the dead of night. Perhaps they have been startled awake by the deafening roar of the slayed monster. Streets overflow with people—still in their nightwear with a simple cape over it to cover up—who have strolled outside to see for themselves the reason for the commotion. 

Then their eyes land on you and your team – the traces of a fight are prominent on you. You gradually make your way from the main gates, heading toward the Adventures Guild. You can feel the tension rising with every step as the citizens carefully assess you. They’re looking for an appropriate reaction, you’re sure of it.

Then, Leo raises the head of the salamander to showcase that he and his team are the ones who defeated the monster that had been terrorizing the city. Gasps and whispers reach your ears before they morph into raging cries of victory.

Garon walks with you a bit further at the back. You feel a little awkward, weaving through the crowd. You hear people congratulating you, or rather the trio in front of you.

“You are our heroes!”

“Thank you, brave warriors!”

“May the gods bless you for what you’ve done!”

“Thank you for saving us!”

“Are those two also with them?”

Your heart sinks. Your lips purse into a thin line the more you listen to the conversations.

“Is that an orc? What’s an orc doing here?”

“Who in their right mind would invite an orc to their party?”

“Who is that girl he’s carrying?”

“I heard that’s a stray they took in out of pity.”

“No wonder she’s so beat up, the heroes had to protect her as well.”

You avert your eyes away from the crowd. The whispers, murmurs, and rumors are quiet, but you’re able to make them out very well. Their words sting, but they are not that far from the truth. You’re not a fighter; you never have been. Physically you’re weak, and the healing powers are all you’ve got. They are a gift from a deity, and it has always been enough for you. However, the longer your adventure goes on, the worse the self-doubt settles. 

‘Am I dragging them down?’ You think to yourself, fighting the tears that are threatening to fall.

“Don’t let them get to you,” Garon suddenly whispers into your ear. His usually gruff voice is soft and velvety but never lacking the resolve that he always carries. You look up only to find him staring straight into your soul. His eyes sparkle in the moonlight as they bore into yours as though silently pleading with you to believe him. “They can think whatever they want about you. Your opinion of yourself is the one that matters.”

You can’t help the blush creeping up your face. You bury your nose into his neck, inhaling the scent of musk and burnt wood. But despite the embarrassment, you ponder his words carefully. But as you think, more questions pop into your mind.

“But…” you start, hesitantly at first, but seeing his gentle face, waiting for you to continue, you find your voice. “Doesn’t it bother you though? We do just as much work, but they get all the glory?”

“Glory and fame don’t interest me,” Garon replies casually. “Besides, humans never truly liked orcs,” he adds coldly. He might’ve sounded nonchalant, but you felt the way his fingers clenched. “So, no matter how many achievements I accomplish, they’ll always see me as a monster, so I just ignore them.”

Your heart aches for him, but at the same time, you feel just a tad bit closer to him. The thought makes you smile, and quite bold when you raise your hand to cup his cheek. The movement is so tender, that Garon stops in his tracks to look at you once again. Suddenly, the victory, the people, and their nasty comments are but a blur.

“I don’t see you as a monster,” you softly murmur in his ear, and you swear you feel him shiver.

However, the intimate moment is ruthlessly interrupted by Saeka, who begins dusting you with sparkles off her wings again, making both you and Garon sigh in annoyance.

“Cuuuuuute~!” The fairy squeals, kicking her feet in the air, and the crowd laughs. You bury your face into Garon’s neck again to hide from prying eyes. “Come on, lovebirds, we got a room at the inn down the road. It has a hot spring!”

*~*~*

You groan groggily when you feel someone shake you awake. Your eyes are closed, but you don’t have to guess who exactly is the impatient one to rouse you at the crack of dawn. You shoo off Saeka’s hands and turn away from her, hoping to catch every last bit of sleep you can. You’re still tired after the fight last night.

“Caaaaat,” Saeka drawls as she climbs to lie on top of you, plopping down with all her weight. You huff and try to pry her off you; despite her dainty build, she’s not as light as people tend to believe. “Come ooon, we got a new mission!”

At that, your eyelids fly open. Your head slowly turns to stare at the girl on top of you. Your eyebrows join together in a frown as the meaning of her words finally sinks in. Suddenly, you’re wide awake and protesting, wiggling out from underneath the blanket. You jump onto the wooden floor and back away till your back hits the wall. “What?” You ask, just to make sure you didn’t mishear her.

“What?” Saeka sits up at the foot of your bed and tilts her head to the side, innocently. “Leo picked up another mission this morning. We’re heading out soon! So you better get ready.”

‘No, I did hear it right…’ you think to yourself, eyes going wide in a panic. “But we just completed a commission yesterday!” You exclaimed, tiredly rubbing your face.

“Well, Leo thought that we could use extra money,” Hareen said as she walked into the room, Leo and Garon strolling behind her.

“Besides, it’s a good practice. After all, the salamander yesterday was a bit challenging, so we have to get stronger,” Leo added with a shrug.

“I just don’t get what you’re complaining about, your job is the easiest,” Hareen crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. Her glare was cold, challenging. You wince at her words. 

“Yeah, Cat, I think it’ll be good for you, too,” Leo says with a smile, but his words are nothing short of discouraging.

“Maybe, before we make any decision, we should ask her what she thinks about it,” Garon’s voice is rough and seizing like he’s holding back his anger, which he totally is.

“Oh, come on,” Saeka whines as she jumps off the bed to stand by your side. Her wings nudge your shoulder, teasingly. “She’ll agree, right? She’s Cat! Cats are flexible!”

There it was again. Your nickname. Her snicker makes your stomach churn. The stigma that makes you want to crawl under a bridge like a true cat. Saeka’s words pop into your head, ‘Scaredy cat… Fast and agile, but weak and not as useful compared to other animals, but cats are adorable!’  Ever since she dropped that line, you’ve been nothing but Cat – unable to even fight.

So, as you stand in the room, all eyes turned at you, expectantly, pressing. Your breath hitches. Your teeth cage your lower lip, grazing over the soft flesh over and over again. The weight of the request pushes you down, and you’re not sure you have it in you to refuse. Your eyes trail over your friends’ faces, unsure and slightly panicked. Your mana still hasn’t fully recovered, so going against another monster so soon is a risk. At the same time, though, you think that maybe things will be fine, and your party won’t need your skills at all. They are experienced warriors, after all.

After what felt like an eternity, you let out a defeated sigh and nod, praying that the monster would be kind enough to let you all go with nothing but a scratch.

However, as you stare at the giant serpent, partially sticking out of the water, you feel your legs give out, and you fall flat on your butt. The wet rocks scratch the skin on the back of your thighs, but your mind barely registers the pain. All your attention is on your friends, fighting and losing what was supposed to be an easy job.

“The commission says that in the cave by the mountains lives a horde of goblins. We have to either chase them away or kill them,” Leo read out the request banner as they entered the cave.

“Goblins? That’s an easy one. You could’ve stayed at the inn, Cat,” Hareene mused, and you rolled your eyes at her. Yet, you couldn’t rid yourself of that gnawing feeling that something seemed off. Your intuition screamed at you to turn around and leave, before it was too late.

“The cave is deep, might even be a labyrinth at some point. Watch out, everyone.”

Goblins are niche monsters. They’re dumb and reckless. They lack any sort of intelligence whatsoever, with their only thought and driving force being sustenance and chaos. Goblins are only strong in numbers, but even a regular citizen can deal with them if they’re dedicated enough. It was supposed to be quick and easy.

When did it even go wrong? When you strayed too deep into the cave, stepping somewhere you shouldn’t have? Or when the commissioner failed to mention the ginormous serpent residing in underground waters that you successfully disturbed? One second, you were admiring the still waters, the second one, a blue-scaled monster burst above the surface. It doesn’t matter anymore.

Tears well up in your eyes, and your body locks in fear, refusing so much as to even blink. You can’t breathe or think properly. All you know is panic and your brain screaming at you to get the hell out of there. You want to. You desperately want to run for your life, but, realistically, how far would you even make it on shaking legs?

You see Leo and Hareen, fighting with all their might, but their efforts don’t even land a scratch on the monster. Saeka tries to conjure up a fire blast, but you notice the way her hands tremble in terror. Her eyes are wide, and her dress is torn and dirty after taking a powerful hit from the monster’s tail that smashed her into the cave wall. You are screwed.

The serpent releases a roar. The sound is so abhorrent and loud, you’re forced to close your ears to not go deaf. It lunges forward, aiming to catch Leo in its wide jaws. Its fangs—dripping with poison—sparkle, even in the dim lights of the cave. Hareene, thanks to her quick reflexes, redirects the attack by throwing her spear into the serpent’s eye. But the creature is faster. It manages to evade the sharp object, and the spear ricochets off the wall and falls into the waters. You are so screwed.

“RUN!!!” You hear Leo’s desperate voice. You see him charging toward the exit, dragging Hareene by her wrist. You want to follow the command, you really do, but your body still refuses to listen.

“Cat! Hurry!” Saeka cries out to you as she lurges past you after your leaders.

Finally, you feel blood rushing through your veins. You scramble to your feet like a toddler who still learns how to walk. You have no idea where you’re going, but anywhere will be safer than here. Your feet are numb, and you’re scared you’ll fall again. But then you make the mistake of looking back. You see the serpent’s eyes—red and shiny like rubies—lock on your form. Its cold stare makes your movements halt. And as you stand there, you think to yourself, ‘I can’t…’ suddenly realizing that this is how you’ll meet your end.

The serpent rushes to close the distance, the sharp fangs are seconds away from piercing you when Garon jumps at the monster with a roar of his own. You see him trying to tackle it, his poleaxe manages to graze its tongue, and, as the serpent cries of pain, wiggling and thrashing, it gives Garon enough time to hoist you up and break for the exit.

The ground shakes at the creature’s anger. Its deafening scream is the only thing you hear besides the thumping of your heart. You squeeze your eyes shut when the debris starts falling. Your hands fist Garon’s shirt, crying and praying to come back to safety. Just then, stalactites begin falling as well, and to your horror, the floor shatters under its weight, taking you both with it into the abyss.

When you open your eyes again, you’re outside, lying underneath a tree. The sun had long descended, ridding you of the comforting warmth you longed for. Your muscles hurt as you move, and your brain is foggy, but you will it to reconstruct the chain of events. The cave… The commission… Goblins…. The serpent… Suddenly, Garon’s face flashes before your eyes, and you sit up abruptly only to groan in pain when a pounding headache makes your eyes black out.

“Whoa, careful,” Garon’s voice is soft and quiet. He abandons the task of skinning a rabbit and approaches you in quick strides. His hand is warm when it palms your cheek. “Relax, you’re safe.”

“Where are we? What happened? Where are the others?” You ask, still disoriented, but alleviated to see your friend alive and safe.

“Not sure. I never caught up to them when the floor crashed. We fell into a river, and it spewed us here,” he explains calmly, and you sigh in exhaustion. 

You ponder his words and feel a stinging pain in your chest. Tears prickle in the corners of your eyes, both out of relief and regret. Your gaze drops to your lap, and you begin sobbing. “I never should’ve agreed to this!” You cry as a feeling of guilt overtakes your senses.

Garon looks at you in disbelief. Are you seriously blaming yourself for something, not even Leo, a former soldier, could’ve predicted?

“Hey, none of that. It’s no one’s fault, okay?” Garon says urgently. His hands cup your face to ensure you look him straight in the eyes.

“But…”

“No buts,” he interrupts you, a frown prominent on his battle-hardened face. “It could’ve happened to anybody, but you’re alive, and that’s the main thing.”

His words make your heart soft. Your lip wobbles before another array of sobs break out from your chest.

The sight of you crying tears him from the inside, and he doesn’t even think twice before capturing you in his embrace. His muscular arms wrap around your frame, pulling you closer until there’s not an inch of space between you. His large palm softly caresses your lower back, hoping that the motion will soothe you.

Your tears only intensify, feeling so many different emotions clash inside you. For minutes, or hours, you weep non-stop until you’re no longer able to, and your loud wails are reduced to quiet hiccups. Garon holds you firmly the whole time, gently cooing in your ear. His voice, his warmth, and his scent seem to work wonders in grounding you as you descend the mountain of your emotional breakdown.

“I boiled some water if you’d like to freshen up while I prepare us food,” Garon murmured. Only then did you notice a campfire, softly crackling in the background; it’s most likely the reason as to why your clothes are mostly dry. You stare weakly at the dancing flames before you nod.

You fight to suppress a whine when Garon pulls away from you. Luckily, he doesn’t stray too far, just far enough to grab a piece of cloth that he actually crafter out of his torn-up t-shirt. It wasn’t visible in the dim flickering light of the campfire, but you just now notice that he’s shirtless. He placed a pot—one that he made out of the piece of chestplate he found—of hot water and a tiny log for a stool by the river, making up a camp shower.

He beckons you, handing you the cloth, and suddenly you feel bashful. It was the first time being in his company alone. Tears washed away most of your worries, making space for more ordinary contemplation. One of which is being one-on-one with your crush. You look at the hot water, your face heats up at the mere thought of having to undress in his presence.

“Thank you…” You murmur shyly. You sit on the smoothly carved log before turning to face the orc once again. “Uhmm… A little privacy, please?”

Garon never even realized he was ogling, his eyes tracing your soft features while he could. He clears his throat to wave off the embarrassment and walks away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, take your time. I’m gonna make dinner.”

You nod and tug your shirt off in one swift motion.

After you washed off most of the dirt and algae, you felt like a human again. A deep sigh falls off your lips as you sit on the grass, the smell of roasted rabbit is filling your nostrils. The rumbling in your stomach angrily reminds you that you haven’t had any proper meal ever since leaving the inn this morning. You silently observe the way Garon slowly turns the meat until it’s crispy.

The taste is worse than you anticipated. It’s expected, though, given your lack of any proper seasonings or vegetables, but it’s enough to satiate your hunger. 

 “Do you think they got out safe?” You ask as you toss a stick Garon used to prepare the meat into the fire.

“I’d say yes,” Garon replies casually. However, you feel like his tone is void of any sympathy for your friends. “They’re capable warriors, they can handle themselves.”

“So what do we do now?” 

“My suggestion would be to head to another city, relocate completely, and see from there,” he says, chewing on the last piece.

“Are we not going to search for them?” You question with your eyebrow raised. You assumed that reuniting with your party mates would be a priority.

Garon snorts, but the sound lacks any trace of amusement. “Is that what you want?”

“Well, they could be hurt, stranded somewhere just like us, and-” you start rambling but are quickly interrupted by your comrade.

“I’m not asking what they need,” the firmness of his tone makes you pause. The weight of his words is not completely foreign to you, but abnormal enough to really stop and listen. “What I’m asking you is if you really want to come back to them after everything they dragged you through?”

The realization hits like ice-cold water. You recall every Hareene’s snide comment, the way she would diminish you, and your inability to fight unlike all of them. Saeka’s sickeningly sweet voice calling you that degrading nickname she felt so proud for coming up with rings in your ears like a curse. You remember Leo, the leader, the wisest of them all, who would dismiss your every concern and suggestion. No matter how infuriating you felt, you learned to push down those feelings for the sake of your friends. But, realistically, are they your friends?

‘No…’

You shake your head, stating your answer. You don’t want to go back to how things were. You are fed up with constant danger, and being in the company of people who wouldn’t bat an eye before dragging you down. There might be some truth to it, but a ‘thank you’ would be appreciated. 

Your eyes lock, and for a moment neither of you says anything, just contemplating the moment of sudden closeness. You see the corners of Garon’s lips tug upwards in a proud grin. You see something in his eyes you’ve seen multiple times – adoration.

You’re the first to break eye contact, growing shy again under the intensity of his gaze. But the way he looked at you, you can’t help but wonder if there might be something more than he lets on.

“We should head to sleep. We need rest,” he said after a while.

Sleeping on the cold ground may have not been ideal, but you have little room when you… actually have little room, tangled together like matching pieces with Garon. Your face is on his chest, so close you hear his steady heartbeat. One of his heavy arms is wrapped around your waist, while the other rests on your back, caging you in a protective embrace.

You don’t even know how that happened, for you two fell asleep a respectful distance away from each other. Was it your wishful thinking, or your unconsciousness trying to get closer to the natural source of comfort and warmth? Or perhaps Garon, even in his sleep, wanted to keep you safe and sound? You can only wonder.

You twist your head to see his face. You drink in his features, rough and scarred. His eyebrows are relaxed, the first time you witness it. 

It has been almost a year since you’ve met. You remember it as clearly as though it happened yesterday – Garon, exhausted and injured, sitting by the tree, similar to the one that is your abode right now. You approached him in quick strides, ignoring the scowl of disdain and clear disapproval on his part. You healed his wounds and patched his clothes to the best of your abilities while offering the kindest smile he’d ever seen. That moment solidified your bond. Garon, previously feared for his skills and hated for his upbringing, became your shield, your silent protector. A smile stretches on your lips at the nostalgia.

“You’re staring,” Garon mumbles with his eyes still closed. You don’t even question how he knew, you just accept it.

“Just admiring you,” you whisper, afraid that if you speak louder, you’ll ruin the precious moment between you.

You don’t know what came over you. Maybe it was the newfound freedom or the absence of one annoying fairy teasing you constantly. You feel a surge of longing and confidence, and you lean closer, pressing your lips to his.

Garon stiff beside you, clearly never expecting such a move from you, but the initiative is welcome. Your heart flatters when his palm that once lay on your waist cradles your face to deepen the kiss. It’s a bit awkward working around the tusks, but his lips are soft and warm. You practically melt, wishing you could simply merge bodies together in one piece.

A barely audible whine leaves your lips when he pulls away, but his hand still holds your cheek tenderly.

“What was that about?” He asks quietly, hopeful. His breath is hot against your red lips.

“Just…” you start, bashful, your confidence is long gone, and you grow shy once again. You squirm lightly in his hold, but it just causes you to tangle more. “Just wanted to kiss you, that’s all.”

Garon hums in acknowledgment. His eyes linger on your face, searching for any trace, any little hint of hesitation or regret. However, all he sees is the shine of certainty, and the steady warmth of your gaze, brimming with affection. Relief flickers across his features, gentle and real. He leans in again, slowly, giving you the chance to pull away. You don’t, though, instead closing the distance yet again. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you almost feel like crying at the softness of the moment.

You skip along the road, humming a random song you once heard at some pub. Your mood is alleviated after the fond morning you shared with Garon. You replay the scene of your kiss in your head over and over again. Your heart sings with affection and love that the events of the previous day are nothing but a dull memory.

Garon walks beside you, his lips are pursed in embarrassment. Can orcs blush? You’re not sure, but if they can, he’s doing it now, considering that the green of his face is a few shades darker. It’s oddly endearing, this rare crack in his usually impenetrable demeanor.

There’s a quiet between you, not awkward, but new—tentative. It felt surprisingly freeing, not to have to rely on one selfish demand after another. You find yourself basking in this new dynamic – finally, an adventure where you don’t have to risk your life for a few golden coins.

“SOMEBODY, HELP!!!”

You curse under your breath, less out of annoyance, more out of fear. The flashbacks of the serpent, its red, murderous eyes staring into your soul resurface. Cold sweat forms on your forehead. Your body freezes, not knowing what to do.

Luckily, Garon acts quicker than you. 

Instantly, he bares his weapon and rushes to the source of the voice. His form disappears behind the bushes, and the rustling of the leaves breaks you out of your trance.

‘Someone must be hurt there…’ You think frantically, landing a solid slap on your cheek to gather your thoughts together. Eventually, you rush after the orc. You weave through the woods until you see a carriage, thrown over on its side. Next to it sits a woman, whose shout you heard before. She holds a crying little boy, shielding him with her body against the giant wolves.

Garon stands between the woman with her son and a pack of wolves. Their eyes look crazed as they growl furiously at him. But even wolves know better than to charge erratically at an orc armed with a poleaxe, so they circle them, waiting for a chance to spree.

At that moment, your reflexes kick in. You raise your hand, casting a dexterity spell on your companion. Then, with one swift motion, Garon swings the poleaxe, grazing some of the wolves. Crimson liquid stains their fur and they release a blood-curdling howl before they sprint away. Your spell wafts off, but you immediately cast another one over the woman with her child to treat their wounds.

“Miss, are you okay?” You hurriedly approach to check in with them. You assess the damage, and luckily, thanks to you, they got away with barely a scratch and some torn clothes.

“T…thank you…” The woman mumbles, her voice still trembling with fear and adrenaline. Her hands instantly roam across her son’s body to ensure he is safe, but when she sees clean skin instead of an open wound, she breaks down in tears, hugging her little boy while peppering his face with kisses. “Thank you… Thank you, heroes!”

You look at them for a moment. Your thoughts twirl like a swarm of wild beasts. You hear both of them cry, bawling their eyes out in relief, and you can’t help but feel this tingling sensation blossoming in your chest. It makes you feel warm and content, almost… like you’re happy. 

You turn to look at Garon, and he’s wearing the same expression as yourself – confused but proud.

It’s a weird feeling. You have saved people enough times before, but no one even once ever looked at you like this. You? Heroes? No one has ever called you that. An unknown backup? A someone to pity? Definitely. But a hero? No, that’s first. 

For a moment, you feel—you believe—that you can become a hero as well.

*~*~*

About three months have passed ever since you parted with your party. And to speak quite honestly, you’ve never been happier. You’ve been traveling alongside Garon, just the two of you in perfect harmony. The road stretches long, but with him beside you, it never feels lonely.

Slowly, but surely, you build your reputation across lands as a healer with a holy touch and an undefeatable orc warrior. People begin whispering of your duo in marketplaces and taverns, not as a ballast to an infamous party of adventurers, but as something more genuine – a symbol of hope and power not to be tampered with.

Even now as you stroll through the streets of the city you arrived no long ago, you can’t help a dopey grin when you hear the rumors about you. You pick out the vegetables for dinner when it reaches your ears.

“Is that the healer people talk about?” One man asks the other as he glances backward to look at you.

“I heard she fixed Jonah’s broken collarbone,” he answers, while sipping his morning tea, voice laced with wonder and pride over knowing such private information.

“Do you think she can restore my eyesight too?”

“Man, you’re practically blind, nothing can help that,” his friend snickers. “But go ahead, you can ask her.”

You smile to yourself, preparing for a conversation and possible healing session. You don’t mind, of course, as long as you’re able to bring hope and smiles to people’s faces. However, what you catch, makes your blood run cold. Instead of two gentlemen, you hear her.

“Caaaaat!” Saeka’s honeyed voice rings in your ears, unlocking the memories you’ve tried to push down for the past 3 months. You don’t even have time to properly face her, when her arms wrap around your shoulders from behind, squeezing tightly in a suffocating embrace. “I’ve finally found you?”

“S…saeka?” You stutter through gritted teeth when you finally come to your senses.

“It’s me! Where have you been?? We thought you and Garon died to that serpent!” She whined tearily, hugging you tighter. You’re about to wiggle out of her trap when she spreads her wings and soars into the sky with you in her hold. “Come with me!” Your basket is dropped on the ground, the vegetables scattering around haphazardly. Your screams are the last thing people hear as Saeka flies away, taking with you.

One moment you cry your voice out, the next moment you’re in a tent, your face flushed, and your hair disheveled. But the sight of Leo, pale and weak, lying on a pile of blankets and rolls of bandages sloppily wrapped around his shirtless body. The wound is deep, judging by the fresh blood staining the material.

“Cat?” Hareene sounds surprised when she sees you entering the tent, but her shock quickly morphs into indifference. She gestures to Leo, waving her hand. “Hurry up and heal him.”

You stand there, unmoving. Your brain short-circuits at the sudden turn of events. Your former partymates stare at you expectantly. Once again, you feel like a broken and timid little helper, while others take advantage of you. You’re not sure what would be the best course of action, after all, in your eyes, you never meant to meet them. Yet, here you are.

“Come on, cat, hurry, we’re afraid he doesn’t have much time!” Saeka pleads with you. Her voice is trembling, on the verge of tears.

“How did this even happen?” You question as you approach the bedding.

“Well, after we split, Leo wanted to find other jobs to, you know, get stronger,” the fairy starts. “But he may have gotten a bit reckless, and rhino stabbed him in the stomach.”

“We’ve been searching for you ever since, and then heard rumors about a healer who travels with an orc,” Hareene adds. Her arms were crossed over her chest, giving away her anxiety.

“Pleaseeee!” Saeka drawls, her hands clasped together, begging and crying.

Again, you’re confused. Your body locks in a familiar feeling of terror. But there are a few things you know for sure – you don’t want to help them; you don’t want to join back; constant stress and danger, all depending on you was too much for you, and you dread the possibility of it happening again. 

So you do one logical thing.

You heal Leo. Your hand glows as the energy flows into his body. You carefully weave around the wound, working to close it and force the body to start the restoring process. You see his face redden, and his pulse stabilizing, signaling his recovery. Then, in just a few minutes, he opens his eyes.

“Leo!” Hareene and Saeka wail in unison as they rush to their leader’s side to smother him with tears of relief and affection.

You stare at the pile, your face is drawn with indifference. Offering a curt nod—although you’re not sure any of them is in their right state of mind to pay you any attention—you exit the tent and begin strolling back to the city. Garon is probably worried sick about your absence.

“Cat, wait!” You hear Saeka’s voice call out for you as she catches up to you. Nothing but confusion is written on her face. “Where are you going???”

“Uhm, heading back?” You say the phrase like a question, unsure of the answer she was expecting. 

“But… We have to get going, we have a job waiting to be completed, and-”

“Saeka,” you say firmly, interrupting her. Frankly, you’re not surprised in the slightest at her dismissal. But finally, for the first time during your whole journey, you know what you want. You’ve found your voice and you’re about to fight your way out with it. “I think you misunderstood something. I healed Leo, but I’m not coming with you.”

“What…?” The sorrow in her voice is almost enough to make you backtrack. Almost.

“Garon and I are traveling by ourselves now, and I enjoy it the way it is,” you reply with a fond smile. “So, thank you, for the invitation, but I’m gonna have to decline,” you bowed politely, hoping she would understand, but luck was not on your side.

“What?! No! You can’t!” Saeka practically screams in your face, growing desperate with each second. “Look, I’m sorry we weren’t giving you enough credit, we’ll get better! But I mean, you’re cat! You’re our cat! We travel together! It’s our journey! ”

“Not anymore, Saeka. Goodbye,” you turn around and begin walking away. You can still hear the fairy’s cries and pleas, but you stand firm on your decision. It feels amazing to finally be able to voice your opinion, to fight for what you want. This feeling is elevating. Just one more thing left, you think before turning around to face Saeka once again. “Saeka.”

“Yes?” She looks at you with a look of hope that maybe you changed your mind.

You simply smile at her, before you say, “I’ve always hated that nickname.”

You don’t look back. You ignore the look of utter shock and betrayal as you resume your walking. Your heart pounds in your ribcage with all the adrenaline, but you’ve never felt better. A weight you hadn’t realized you were still carrying lifts with every stride you take away from them.

When you arrive back in the city and find the stall of food you never had the chance to shop at, you see Garon, going from one person to another, frantically asking people if they’ve seen you. Your heart flatters and a warm sensation settles in your stomach. You call out for him with a smile, and, as expected, the orc immediately rushes to your side, swoops you up, and twirls you in a dizzying dance, before his lips find yours in a longing kiss. You giggle into his mouth, feeling as though you’re going to burst any second from happiness.

“Where have you been? I was so worried,” Garon asks once he steadies you back down on your feet.

“Saeka found me,” you say truthfully as you begin walking to the inn you’re currently staying at.

“What? And what happened?”

A frown is etched onto his face as you retell the exact play of events. But when you beam at him, he smiles, lacing your fingers together. The more he listens to your story, the more his body stiffens. He doesn’t like the fact that you’ve been found, but he can’t help but notice the way your steps feel lighter, your voice louder, and your eyes brighter. And as you finish your tale, Garon feels nothing but pride. He presses his lips to your forehead, and you melt at the touch, thinking that everything will be okay from now on.

Oddly enough, you’re glad fate brought you face-to-face again with your former teammates. It gave you the opportunity to end things on your terms; to say what you’ve always wanted to say. Now, you can move on with your own journey. No more playing a supporting role in someone else’s legend. You can finally become the hero of your story.

[leighsartworks216]

... Oops

Harvey x gn!Farmer

Had this thought when I remembered I had to take my meds tonight. I just think it would be nice to have someone who takes care of you when you're a bit stupid and forget to take very important meds 👉👈

Also, Baja Blast is the actual name of my blue chicken lmao

Also also, this is written in third person POV instead of my usual second person POV

Warnings: swearing, dizziness, anxiety, possibly OOC Harvey

Word Count: 1,592

Masterlist

AO3

Harvey rubbed at his eyes as he slipped out of bed, glancing absentmindedly at the empty space beside him. The farmer was already up, of course. He worried for them when he realized how early they woke up each day, but it couldn't be helped if they wanted to take care of their farm all in one day.

He adjusted his glasses on his face as he shuffled to the kitchen. A cup of hot coffee sat on the counter waiting for him, as it always was. He smiled to himself. Fresh coffee from beans they grew themselves always tasted better than anything Gus could ever dream of making. It was perfectly bitter and smooth as he gulped it down.

He looked out the window of the cabin that overlooked the field left to the farmer by their grandfather. There weren't any unwanted stumps, logs or boulders anymore. Fences penned in the animals as they meandered about, munching on fresh grass. The crops were already watered. The scarecrows teetered slightly in the breeze, the fabric of their gloves almost appearing to wave back at him. He always enjoyed the one that resembled an animated movie character - the farmer had been so proud of it when they stuck it into the ground.

His eyes scanned the paths and fences, searching for his partner.

Hm, they must be in one of the barns.

He stared out a while longer, hoping to catch a glimpse as they came out. A concerned frown etched its way onto his face, but he tried writing off the anxiety swarming in his gut. They're probably just refilling the feeders or refilling their kegs or... Really, it's nothing to get worried about. They knew what they were doing! As long as they stayed out of those damn mines, he had nothing to worry about.

He sighed, shaking his head to remove the flood of worried thoughts in his head. Downing the last of the coffee and placing the mug in the sink, he went off to the bathroom to get ready for a day in the clinic.

He peeked out the window again after he got out of the shower. A blue chicken - a gift from Shane the farmer had named Baja Blast - clucked cheerily as it walked out of the open gate. The farmer usually kept the gates closed, always worrying about coyotes or foxes coming to eat their precious hens. It was unusual for them to keep it open, even if they were inside the coop.

He bustled about in a slight rush to get dressed and gather his things for work, namely a giant thermos of coffee and a lunch prepared for him waiting in the fridge, before slipping out of the cabin. He set it all down on a rocking chair sitting on the porch, creaking in the wind.

Baja Blast clucked up at him as he scooped her into his arms. “C’mon, you shouldn’t be out here. All your food is in here,” he says to the chicken as he steps through the gate and closes it behind him. With a cursory glance back, it didn’t seem like any other chickens got out. He couldn’t remember how many his partner had anymore. He had no idea how in the world they kept up with chickens, ducks, goats, sheep, cows, and pigs on one farm alone. It made his head spin trying to guess how they kept their head on straight with so much to do.

He set Baja Blast down with a white chicken, Madame Clucks. She went back right to pecking away at the grass.

Harvey set his hands on his hips as he looked around. Even out here, he couldn’t see the farmer. Okay, how he was worried. His hands fidgeted anxiously as he stumbled in his loafers through the soft dirt to the coop door. If they weren’t in here, he’d have to check the other barns. And if they weren’t in the barns, he’d have to call Marnie or Shane, or, Yoba forbid, Marlon at the Adventurer’s Guild, just in case they really had slipped off to the mines without telling him. But what if they weren’t in the mines? He’d have to call- Yoba, who could he call? Everyone? Ask if they’ve seen the farmer around today? It wasn’t even 8am, nobody would be up and about to know if they’d gone through town.

He pushed open the door, a bit harder than he meant to as some chickens lingering inside bawk’d and spooked away, leaving feathers in their wake. He couldn’t even focus on that. His eyes immediately landed on the figure sitting on the chest by the mayonnaise machine. They were hunched over and holding their head.

“Farmer!” Harvey rushed forward, all the old anxiety quickly replaced with a thousand more fears. He knelt down by them and rested a hand on their shoulder, looking at them with wide eyes. From this angle he could see their eyes were closed, face pinched in discomfort. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

They shook their head. “‘M just lightheaded. I bent down to grab the eggs and I got really dizzy.”

He pressed the back of his hand to their forehead, brushing back some hair as he pulled away. “You’re not running a fever.” He let out a hesitant breath of relief. “Do you think you can stand?”

After a moment, they nodded. Harvey stood up and supported them as they stood. They wobbled on their feet, but he wrapped an arm around their waist to steady them.

“Easy now. Let’s get you back inside.”

“What about-”

“Don’t you dare put your farm over your own wellbeing,” he warned. “I can call Shane and see if he’ll take over for the day.”

The farmer sighed, relenting. He knew how much peace they found tending to everything themselves, despite how overwhelming it seemed on the outside. They had a whole process for everything, and they’d explained before just how much of the simpler tasks they’d automated with sprinklers and some of Maru’s machines. Still, he was absolutely not about to let them go right back to work when they can barely stand up without a light breeze threatening to knock them over.

Harvey opened the gate and helped them through, shooing Baja Blast back inside as he shut the gate again. His partner gave an undignified snort at the offended squawk she let out. “At least you feel well enough to laugh.”

“Like I said, Harv, I’m just dizzy.” They leaned heavily into him as he led them along the paths to the cabin. Their feet hung up on uneven stones and the stairs leading to the door more than once.

“Dizziness is a symptom of something else. I just want to make sure it really is nothing serious.”

“I know you do.” They offered him a slight smile, but it quickly soured to a frown as they shut their eyes again with a frown. “Yoba, it feels like the whole world is spinning.”

“We’re almost there.” The line would have been less out of place if this wasn’t their home that they knew as well as they knew the names of all their animals, but they were too out of it to point it out and Harvey was too in his own head to notice it. So they stumbled together through the house to the large two-person bed.

The farmer laid down with a whine, pressing the balls of their hands to their eyes. “How is this worse somehow?” they groaned.

Harvey pressed a comforting hand to their shoulder. “Did you eat breakfast this morning?” They hummed affirmatively with a nod. “When did you get back home last night?”

“Like… 1? 1:40?”

He sighed, scratching his brow with his thumb. That was a conversation for later. “Did you take your meds?”

The silence was deafening. They covered their whole face with their hands with a muffled, “Fuck, I’m stupid.”

“So you didn’t take your iron?”

They shook their head but regretted it immediately after, uncovering their face with a grimace. Their hands plopped pathetically to the bed beside them. “No, I completely forgot. I was trying to run back from the beach after fishing all night - I must have been so tired it just slipped my mind.”

He let out a long sigh. “At least it’s nothing serious. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“‘M sorry, Harvey.”

“It’s…” He frowned at the idea of saying ‘okay’. As a doctor, he really couldn’t brush off not taking prescribed medication, especially with a partner with such a severe case of anemia. He’d protest against them running a farm at all if they weren’t so determined. “We’ll figure out a better system, okay? We can put them in a pill-minder and keep them on your nightstand.”

They nodded. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

That shocked a laugh out of him. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to their forehead, his mustache scratching their skin in a familiar way. “Of course - that is my job after all. Now sit tight, I’ll grab your supplements and call Shane. Anything he needs to know about?”

“Just make sure he pets all of the animals. They deserve daily pats.”

“I’ll make sure he knows,” he chuckled fondly as his footsteps began their retreat from the bedroom to the house beyond.

“I love you!”

His warm laugh rang out again, echoed against the wood Robin nailed together and the photos on the walls. “I love you, too!”

[call-me-noa]

New year, new me.

Okay so it's still a few weeks until New Year's, but I think I'm gonna go ahead and post this now anyway. If you're wondering who this "Noa" person you don't remember following is, this account used to be named Reignsan.

It's been just about 19 years since I came up with the name Reign. I was 11 years old at the time and originally used it for a Sonic OC. I don't remember why I chose that name, I think it just sounded cool. You know, picking things the way that 11 year olds tend to do. Pretty quickly the name Reign went from being the name of my Sonic OC to the name I used everywhere online. For almost two decades that's what I've been called by.

But recently—cropping up every now and then in the last few years, but increasingly more often in the last few months—I've kind of found myself drifting away from Reign as an identifier. When people call me by that it's started to feel "off", like taking a moment to register that they're talking to me.

Earlier this year I renamed my FFXIV character Noa and that name really clicked with me. I like how it sounds. Ironically this actually happened shortly before I played Xenoblade 3, a game where the main character is named Noah, so that's actually a coincidence if you can believe it. I've started slowly transferring to using the name Noa on other places, like my FGO and Twitch usernames (for the record I don't stream, it's just when I'm talking in Twitch chat).

This isn't a trans thing; I'm not cracking an egg or coming out of the closet. I'm pretty comfortable in my gender identity. But it is still an identity thing. I feel kind of stupid making a big deal about changing an online username, but when you've used the same one for almost twenty years it is kind of a leap.

So long story short I'm committing to changing my screen name from Reign to Noa. For people who've known me a long time, especially my friends who've known me pretty much the entire length of time I've gone by Reign, I know this will be an adjustment. But I'd really appreciate it if you could keep it in mind. Of course I know you won't memorize it overnight and there will be slip-ups, but yeah.

So, yeah. New year new me. Please call me Noa.

[janicekao]

Neighbor

Pairing: Callum Turner x Black oc Summary: Callum Turner, a NYC photographer, lets his extreme crush on his neighbor/coworker take him out of his character after a year of being friend zoned. Warnings: #UnrequitedLove #Crush #Cat&Mouse #TheChase #Fluff #Smut #FanFic #18+ #PublicS3x #SurpriseS3x #RoughS3x #CumW3aring #YearningMen #Flirty etc. 5345 words Wattpad link Enjoy my babies<3

________________________

Sitting window-side in her New York brownstone, Naj Dodson notices her neighbor while eating breakfast and having her morning tea. Callum Turner lounges outside on his fire escape to enjoy the morning breeze. Now that Spring has hit New York City, their brownstone apartments heat up like ovens each time the sun rises and beats down upon them, hence why Naj relaxes this morning in only a cool pair of white panties and a cotton-T.

Naj rolls her eyes as she watches her friend and his nonchalant book reading on the side of the building. One look at him and anyone would see absolute youthful innocence... Just a young man in this big rich city trying to make a living. You would only notice his glasses, a book in his hand, and usually a camera by his side, but once the first impression finally fades, you would finally see that Callum Turner is a dangerous charmer and quite the flirt! A slut if you will.

"Hey you!" Naj lifts her window to wish him a good morning. She giggles lightly while watching this neighbor who has had a year long crush on her brighten like a golden retriever wagging his tail.

"There she is, Ms. America!" He sings, "come out mama, the sun feels incredible."

With her breakfast and tea in hand, Naj comes out of her window onto her own fire escape. Being a free spirit without much fear in her heart, she crosses over a three-feet gap in between their buildings in only her night-wear. Callum hisses in fear, watching his crush cross over an open gap that could drop her twenty-feet to the cement, he immediately jumps up to be of assistance. "Sss! I hate when you cross over like that!" He catches Naj at her waist, with finger tips lying right above the waistband of her panties, his hands fit her curves like a perfect puzzle piece.

"Don't worry, I do it almost every morning, I'll be okay." His fright causes her to laugh. "Whatcha reading and eating?"

As he finds his seat again on the hot black steel of the fire escape, Callum pauses, suddenly entranced by the sight of Naj's warm mahogany skin and shapely frame, nonchalantly sporting a white crop top, braless, and in small underwear as if she just walked out of a Calvin Klein ad. His lips part gently as if he could take a bite out of her, or better yet, just to inhale the sweet essence she has brought over to his apartment.

Forgetting the question momentarily, Callum lightly stammers "Oh— uh, just reading a little Don Quixote and eating an apple, you?"

"Avocado toast and ginger-tea."

"Mm, trade." He opens his gorgeous mouth of pearly straight rows of all large white teeth. Naj playfully rolls her eyes and feeds him a bite.

"Fantastic." His bite takes a healthy dent out of her breakfast.

"It's the most basic breakfast in the world." She laughs, yet her hand is suddenly pressed against his lips. "Anything prepared by your hands my dear, is gourmet in my heart." Callum stirs her soul with a kiss to her knuckles.

Naj immediately snatches away. As laughter takes him into a large grin, he can't help but to continue teasing. "Did you know that you playing hard to get just might be the sexiest thing I've ever witnessed in my entire life?"

She reminisces gently on the first day that they met. It was the day that Callum signed his lease to be her neighbor and he has behaved in this very same flirty way ever since. "It's been a year now, isn't it getting old?"

"Never!" He refuses as if it were his job to be put on this earth and bother her. "But while we are on the subject, why haven't you let me take you out on a proper date yet?"

"You never date a coworker." As if being neighbors weren't enough, the two work for the same magazine as well.

"Because we work in the same building?" Callum scoffs.

Being near to her just isn't enough. With him being an always-on the-go paparazzi photographer and Naj a journalist, working under the same company and being her neighbor could never compete with finally being her man.

"Exactly, it's like we're—" she pauses in thought. "siblings."

He cringes, nearly gags. "Never say that again."

Naj giggles, her cute morning rasp warming his heart regardless of how much she is aiming to aggravate him. "I just mean that 'NY Magazine' is both our boss! Our mommy and daddy, if you will."

His eyes become lustful, enjoying the way that the one word sounded rolling off her tongue. "Wait— say daddy again real quick."

Naj playfully shoves him as Callum steals another bite of her avocado toast, this time inhaling it all and nearly biting her fingers as she squeals in playful laughter.

... if only she could see how happy he makes her.

Callum chuckles, wandering closer to his crush with a hand on her hip to keep her from clumsily falling off the escape. He taunts with a muffled mouth full of breakfast. "You're a tease!"

"And you're a stalker!" Naj continues to enjoy her shared morning with her neighbor/coworker, unaware of how comfortable she feels pressed against him as his hands roam her curves lightly. "A professional stalker at that."

"Well, it is my job." Callum's smile never fades, however their giggly-laughter shrivels as tension grows between them. Watching Naj through the thickness of his glasses, he can feel her heart race against him as her neck cranes to meet his gaze. The surreally romantic wind crossing them as if they were on a tropical beach seals the noticeable tension between them.

The need for a kiss begins to ache them both, but with being a Gen Z independent woman, Naj feels that a relationship would only hold her back during the prime years of her youth. "Callum, I—"

He snaps a picture of her instead.

"Give that here." Naj huffs as what she thought might have been a moment of romance becomes annoyance once again.

"Don't worry." He laughs. "You'll see it again."

———

Naj finds herself running into work late this morning sparing only five minutes until needing to be at an important meeting with the entire company. With Fashion Week beginning, the taxi-traffic on the street is unbelievable! But then again, that's really every day in New York for you.

She approaches her desk with a gasp, a coffee sits near her belongings with a printed picture from this morning. She quickly snatches it and pockets it into her pencil skirt.

"You're too late." Her friend Lexi whispers a taunt right behind her ear. "I've already seen the early morning undies pic. Now spill it you slut! Which one of these photographers are you boning?"

"None!" Naj's frantic response makes her seem to be even more guilty.

"Whatever." Lexi grins with a slight shrug, "there's only so many paps that carry around vintage cannon cameras, so I'll figure it out sooner or later!"

Naj packs her belongings as the young women continue into the conference room. "Oh give me a break. If that's what you're looking for while vintage camera quality is the hottest thing out right now, you'll be shit out of luck in finding him."

Lexi's eyes grow massively, "So it is one of our photographers!" The girls take a seat and Naj immediately hushes her friend for being so loud... So loud to the point of a certain watchful eye eavesdropping. Now known to the fact that he's being talked about, Callum watches closely from across the table, waiting and yearning for Naj to tell her friend that they are something more.

His dark-stony eyes burn holes into her. They never falter, never blink... Naj watches back, examining the way Callum's gorgeous pout caresses the side of a glass as he drinks out of the company complimentary lemon water, making Naj feel heat coil beneath her skirt.

She gulps. "Just shut up, the meeting's starting."

———

Talk about a Friday from Hell. Not only is New York a shit-storm full of people because of Fashion Week, but now Naj and all the other journalists' careers are on the line. The company conference meeting was about the sudden rapid decline in what used to be New York's biggest magazine. With people using social media nowadays to receive their news and gossip, paper copies like 'NY Magazine' just aren't needed anymore. Today their boss brought up the idea of downsizing, sending the entire building into a frenzy of how they'll be able to afford the lifestyle here on the glamorous East Coast. With more than twenty journalists up to be fired, it is up to them to capture the best-most juicy articles during Fashion Week or it's lights out for their position in office. The news has given Naj more than she can worry about... Not only does Fashion Week pass by so quickly, but the journalism competition is out of this world! And to make matters worse, never has she once been able to get on the list to participate in any Fashion Week events. How will she be able to save her job with articles about the events, when she can't even get in them?

Nervously shaking her leg as the day's anxiety has gotten the best of her, Naj continues to try and whistle down a taxi after work. But with the busy buzz of New York, she can see now that she might just be walking to her next destination.

To her surprise a taxi stops at the curb for her and the door to the backseat is popped open. Her excitement quickly fades as she realizes that it's a shared taxi with thee Callum Turner. "Get in."

Naj rolls her eyes... But, staring down at her four-inch office heels, she realizes it's probably best to take the ride than to walk. As she enters inside the cab, Callum's sly grin makes it clear that he is up to no good. However as a gentleman would, he offers her his hand as she steps inside and even buckles her in. "How was your coffee? Hazelnut latte, just as you like."

"I shouldn't even talk to you after what you did this morning." Her words are a sharp bite. "I mean you printed it!? A print with my ass out?!"

"And what a pretty ass you have—"

"Callum!" She interrupts.

His laughter is a clear taunt, yet he really meant no harm. "I'm sorry, I didn't think your friend would be such a wandering eye over your desk. Naj, I just wanted you to see."

"See what?" She scoffs

Callum sweetly brushes a curl out of her face, getting a better view at the girl he adores. "To see how perfect you are when you're not even trying."

...

Quickly staring out of the window, Naj would hate for him to see how much she's blushing as of now. With being in the business, she knows how much it must've taken to have that photo printed and dipped in his red-developing room during only a few hours before work... He takes effort and pride in his work, even using her beauty as his muse.

"So..." She teases. "What? Do you have an entire album of me somewhere or something?"

"Nah, I prefer to use my closet shrine of you." His laughter becomes contagious. "But tell me, that friend Lexi of yours. I'm really sorry she saw, she's not going to give you a hard time now, is she?"

"It's fine, she's always been like that." Naj shrugs. "A nose in someone else's business when she has no room to talk! She might think I'm boning one of the photographers, but she's boning how many editors? Two? Three?"

"So who's the photographer you're boning? Is he maybe, handsome? Got a big d—"

"Callum!" She shouts, skin continuing to blush with embarrassment.

"I'm just teasing you beautiful." His handsome grin again curls playfully at the corners of his lips. "But now that I've got some of your time, I'll level with you— so yeah, okay, it might be a little bit weird that we live in brownstones adjacent to each other, and work in the very same building, but it's kinda charming too, no? Like destiny."

She sighs. "More comical, like my life." Callum shrugs. "Ehh life could use a little comedy, aye?"

"Let me make it up to you." He continues, "I can see how worried you are about this company budgeting and downsizing, but I've got a press-pass to get into every event this week. Be my plus one, let me help you with pictures and finding the best scoop for your article, huh?"

Naj's eyes find his, shaken to the core that someone would do something so nice for her, she nearly stutters. "D-Do you mean that?"

"Oh come on—" Callum rolls his eyes, "I would have done it anyway. Naj, baby, I'll always have your back... Don't you get that?"

"How can I thank you?" With a voice of the sweetest honey, desire burns through Callum's soul.

"Come're."

...

Frozen in her seat, Naj thinks for a moment in time... Just this once, she's just as curious of the taste of his lips as he is of hers. She allows herself to move closer, feeling the warmth of Callum's hand as he gently cusps the gorgeously elongated back of her neck beneath her curls. Their lips clash in something far from simple. Instead of a friendly peck, they fall open to each other's passions. Spilling quiet groans on each other's tongue as the slow and deliberate french kiss shakes the earth beneath them.

"Let me take you out— Naj, please." He pleads through a thick trembling need as their lips continue to lock onto each other. "Lunch, dinner, dessert, my parents' house, a wedding chapel— wherever you want."

Her entire body becomes cloud like, as if she could float away on every little perfect word that comes out of his mouth. But with years of an unsuccessful dating life and a career of writing about celebrities and their spouse's downfalls... Naj just can't bring herself to put her and and Callum in a predicament that has a better chance of failing than finding success... Afraid to ruin the great energy and bond that they already have, she just can't help but to continue to decline his advances. "What we have—" she begins with what seems to be a hint of pain in her throat. "It's already so good."

"It can be better." His convincing comes out as a plead on a whisper.

Naj refuses. "I'm sorry... I really am, but— I'm just not dating right now." Her words almost seem forced, like it's more of a question than a statement. A look of disappointment watches back at her. A gaze that she can't stand to see. Luckily her friend Callum is kind, the most understanding man she's ever met. The cab begins to pass a strip of bars and suddenly, Naj has a hankering for a well needed shot of vodka, preferably a double. "Could you drop me right here actually, I could really use a drink... uhm— I'll see you Monday? Start of Fashion Week?"

Although quiet, Callum nods with a quaint smile. "Monday."

She smiles softly."Let me at least pay for the fare, how much do I owe you?" Callum still manages to assist his crush out of the vehicle, opening the door for her and helping Naj out of the car.

"Don't worry about it." He watches from the window, "it's on me."

———

With the weekend approaching in New York City, there's two things the youthful working class look forward to. Getting absolutely obliterated with booze, and getting fucked.

But being that Naj has the awful luck of ovulating at this time of the month and the now sexually frustrated and stirred way her neighbor has made her this week, she finds herself in hand with a new purchase. A pheromone perfume. A product that's been hyped up all over the internet, a scent made to mimic and enhance a woman's natural pheromones. A scent that supposed to make men lose themselves in the palm of a woman's hand and the perfect fragrance to wear as Naj searches for a meaningless one night stand tonight.

As she dresses at her vanity, spraying the over-hyped product across her skin, she wears an outfit far too hot to handle and a pair of heels that will have all of New York mistaking her for one of Fashion Week's super models. Her top is low and her skirt is the size of a belt, but tonight the last thing on her mind is couth or class.

With a birthday gift in hand, Naj enters a swanky restaurant that doubles as a club. Although here to celebrate a friend's birthday, she's also looking for a single man to knock her through the headboard tonight, just for one night. As the night continues, from the sheer amount of attention she's getting Naj's perfume seems to be working! Or maybe it's the black-string thong that reveals itself each time she bends down or dances a bit too low.

But regardless of the amount of male attention and constant drinks being sent to her and her friends' section, there's something absolutely missing... Having over ten men smiling in her face all night, the shared attraction just hasn't been there and she's known to the fact that no one here tonight could ever give her the same butterflies that Callum Turner gives her each day.

With a sigh and head hung low, she calls it a night hours before the club closes at two-am. Naj wishes her friends well, but a ride on the metro back home to a tub of ice cream is starting to sound much better than the hookup she expected to find this evening.

Tonight the metro station seems to be empty... But it's usually like this around twelve-am anyways. Either people are still out partying, at home in their beds, or have better sense than to ride the metro at midnight by themselves. But with being the native New Yorker, nothing frightens Naj much. However, she's still keen to keeping her head on a swivel, something that she realizes she'll have to do as she steps onto the train and notices it is much more full than the rest of the station... She scans the train for a seat, only seeing a few empty ones scattered here and there in between some suspicious passengers... she decides to stand, feeling that it would be better instead of being felt up by what seems to be a homeless man who's scooting over to make space for her— no thanks.

As the door closes, her grip tightens on a metal bar that keeps her from falling. She doesn't scan the train too heavily, you never want to make eye contact with a nut on the metro because you never know how it could end. But as she lightly lifts her head for a quick glance, Naj latches eyes on the only man she has been thinking about recently... Her neighbor, coworker, and crush all in one, Callum Turner.

Naj drops her head quickly, finding herself immediately blushed from the sight of him alone. God, she told him she'd see him Monday! But here he is not even a day later— it's as if the universe is playing a sick game with her emotions.

Also ignoring the crowded car around him, Callum listens to his headphones on full blast. Lightly bopping his head to The Beatle's vintage sound in his ear. But only a glance in Naj's direction and a double take at that, makes the young man drop his headphones in an instance. "Hey you! How's your weekend been?"

Without any regard to the people around him, Callum begins to loudly converse although ten feet away. "Uhm—" Naj hesitates to speak so openly amongst the quiet strangers. "It's been fine, Callum, thanks..."

"Glad to hear it, didn't think I'd see you until work Monday." He continues anyway, now joyful and happier than a lamb. "I've been at the Poetry Slam at that little winery on 16th street. Lots of talent there tonight, and yourself?"

Callum and the rest of the car peep at her scandalous outfit, causing Naj to feel anxious from all of the eyes attempting to guess where she's been tonight. "You're shouting conversation across the entire train ya know!"

"You're right, let me come stand by you." In a quick instant, Callum stands and loses his seat. He has a long way to make it near to Naj, yet his eyes never leave her once as he politely scoots closer.

With the fear of the young man being in Naj's constant thought and remembering how painful the butterflies he gives her are, she wishes that he wouldn't come near to her at all. "No, uhm Callum you really don't need to— shit."

He finally makes it to her within a few minutes of shifting his large body through the train. Using the same pole to stand, Naj's lips part with a silent gasp as their hands touch right against each other. The subtle touch causes him to grin. With a height casting a shadow over his crush, viewing down upon her pretty brown eyes has become his favorite hobby. "Bumpy ride, isn't it?"

...

With a head full of lust ever since she left home today, Naj can't even think straight. She gulps, eyes still continuing to lock on the sight of their hands sharing a pole. "Wh-What?"

Callum refuses to repeat himself unless their gaze is shared. With the slight of his curled knuckle, he tilts Naj's chin in his direction, forcing the eye contact instead of her continuing to be frozen on the sight of their near hand-hold. "Look at me while I'm talking to you, please." He corrects. "I said the metro, it's bumpy, yeah?"

Heat pools in her stomach from the light dominance... Why did he just tell her what to do? And better yet, why did she listen? "Oh, yeah..." She clears her thoughts, "but it shouldn't be, you had a seat."

He shrugs, "legs needed a stretch."

With each rattle of the train on its tracks, Naj and Callum face against each other and continue to bump into each other's bodies.

He can't help but to glance at the mouthwatering tits that continues to bump against his chest. "Careful, your glasses are fogging." Naj chuckles.

He smirks, eyes glinting with an unusual amount of carnal attraction. "So let them fog."

Aware of his smug charm at an all time high, Naj rolls her eyes, deciding to turn her back on him for the remainder of the ride. But although her chest doesn't writhe against him any longer, now it is the plushness of her backside in a skirt far too short bumping against his slacks.

Lowering his face into her curls and neck, Callum inhales a scent all too powerful. "You smell fucking amazing."

"I do?" Slightly tilting her head, Naj questions if the pheromone perfume actually does work.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Uhm, just a new scent I'm trying." She can practically hear Callum licking his lips behind her head. "You never said where you've been tonight, can't help but to be curious in a skirt like that."

She sighs. "Some restaurant-bar scene, celebrated a friend's birthday."

"That's all?" He taunts. "If that was the occasion, then why are you wearing that?"

His fingers grace the hem of her skirt and she slaps his hand away. "What are you my father?"

"Daddy, perhaps?" His teasing is relentless. "Into that?"

"Please, I'll puke." However, a touch to her bare hip says otherwise. "What are you do—"

"Shh." He coos, "I noticed some goosebumps, just trying to rid them for you. Or wait— they're not because of me, are they?"

They are.

"Because I'm cold." Naj lies whilst her heart beats through her chest.

"So maybe I'll hold you tighter, give you some heat?" Callum's aquiline nose passes right through her hair, brushing past her ear as he places a gentle kiss to her scalp. He feels her tense under his touch and begins to chuckle coyly.

Naj's voice raises as the car empties with each stop, allowing her to give Callum a piece of her mind. "Stop laughing all the time, nothing's funny." She feels slighted. Played with as if she were only a pathetic puddle of water in the palm of his hand.

"No you're right." He agrees. "There's nothing funny about how tempted you have me right now."

She shudders at his comment, gripping the bar tighter as she tries to avoid drawing attention to them. "Callum?" She asks. "What is it that you want from me tonight?"

"Want to fuck you." He states so very plainly yet a chill runs down Naj's spine.

She scoffs. "I wouldn't even let you take me out on a date but you think I'll let you fuck me?"

"Yes. I do." With a voice a bit sinister than she's used to from him, Callum speaks in the same type of desperation that Naj has been feeling inside all day. "I think you don't know what you want, and you want me to tell it to you."

She trembles, praying to not leak between her thighs at the sound of a man in this day and age actually wanting to lead. She plays along. "What is it that I want then?"

"We'll just have to see, how does that sound?" With a loss of patience, Callum gives her a tricky ultimatum. "If you want me to walk away, want me to leave you alone forever, then just stand still. If you don't, widen your stance."

...

Naj feels her heartbeat drumming through her ears. She looks down at her Louis Vs that are carefully placed together. Her ankles are tightly touching in a completely closed stance and she exhales a quiet trembling breath... Gently she parts her legs a step apart and in doing so, a cock is suddenly slipped beneath her skirt.

Her eyes widen with an immediate gasp. The train comes to a halt at its next stop and the last group of people move out of the empty car without any idea that Naj is standing there with a strange cock pressed against her clothed cunt.

She can't even begin to imagine what's she done to have made him so erect... she can't even fathom when the moment was that he unzipped? How did he smoothly press his cock between her thighs without anyone noticing? And most of all, when did this neighbor of hers become so direct?

"Call that luck, too many eyes and our names would have been listed in the police reports for public indecency by morning." Callum's fingers find their way beneath her skirt, moving the band of her thong to the side of her pussy as their intimates find direct contact, sexes flesh to flesh. Feeling the warmth of her slick mound on the tip of his cock makes him pulse, eyes fluttering closed as he slowly draws back and pushes forward again, having his cockhead slide through the seam of her womanhood.

Teased lightly from behind her, Naj can even feel her back begin to arch, wanting more. She pleads, a mixture of thrill and fright building in her chest. "Not here, not like this."

"Just gonna tease you." His breath is trembled and hot on her neck. "I have self control, but do you?"

His light rocking continues with a bit more force, just enough thrusting that matches the shaking of the train. An ungodly amount of pleasure to Naj's clit from the mixture of vibration and the knocking of the tip of his manhood. The massage makes her eyes roll back, suddenly hearing the sticky slick of her arousal soaking the thickness of his shaft.

With the next stop, the car fills again. The sight of more people tenses her muscles and squeezes her thighs. The feeling alone of the frightened clench brings a silent moan to her lips, the compression is the exact kind of pressure that her body needs and wants.

Inside comes a few wasted girls from a bachelorette party and a couple who are acting just as disgustingly feral as Callum and Naj, drunkenly lip-locking without a care to hide it, and being more of a show than anyone else onboard.

Although they could have an audience, there are still no eyes on them... The perfect reason for Callum to keep going.

Naj's gentle squeals wreak havoc on Callum's mind, he's sat alone many nights imagining just how she would sound when pleasure would over take her...But this— this surpasses all that he could ever dream of. A bead of his precum adds to the thickness of the slick between them. "Careful." He complains in more of a worry about cumming to fast than of actually being caught. "Fuck you feel so good, but you'll have to stay quiet Naj, okay?"

With a quieting bite to her lip, she agrees with a nod. The train goes through one of the many tunnels below ground. The metro goes through a patch of darkness, giving them more momentum to behave grotesquely than ever before. Strong and feral, Callum pulls to hard on the string of her thong and it snaps, leaving her completely bare as his thrusts speed up relentlessly now that they're able to find privacy in the pitch black. The slicing through her tender cunt drops Naj's jaw, causing her to release a moan that is almost loud enough to hear past the train's rumbling.

To silence her songs of pleasure, Callum snatches her chin around slightly, straining her neck as their tongues clash into a tongue kiss. The bucking of his hips never faltering as he continues to redden and swell her pussy with the vigorous hammering of his erection.

Familiar with this tunnel, they both know how long they have until they see the light again and rest assured they give it their all. Callum becomes rougher with a baritoned growl riveting from the depths of his throat and nails that dig into the soft flesh of her hips. 

Painful pressure builds for them both, and small flashes of tunnel-lighting nearly gives away the lewd act they are putting on in this train.

The car suddenly rocks roughly and instead of the indecent probing-tease, Callum finds himself slipped inside her entry and buried to Naj's hilt. They share a gasp at the sudden tightness that he feels and the intrusion in her body that catches her breath. She covers her own cries with a manicured hand over her lips, she feels beneath her belly-button at the cock-bulging in her organs and furrows her eyebrows. Without a hold on anything around her, she relies on the large man behind her to keep her steady with the grasp he has on her hips, fucking her with free use, without a care where they are and who's around.

The penetration is exactly what she needed to finish her off after the insane stimulation to her clit, her knees become weak as the pleasure builds into unreal uncomfort. "Mmm-uh!!! Callum— I'm going to—" He immediately shuts her up with his wide hand against hers on her mouth. Quieting her complaints and forcing her to take it before their time runs out. Naj's pussy clenches around his length and she spasms with an orgasm that makes her nothing but fucked-out putty in his hands.

With the loss of self control, Callum drives upwards with wild abandon, flush against each other's flesh as the squealing subway rails thankfully hide the sound of clapping as Naj's ass crashes against his pelvic bone each time he digs deeper. Like a vice or some type of suction, her cunt pulls him in for more, greedily ready to milk all that he has to spend. "M'shittt...You're so fucking wet baby. I'm going to spoil this pussy— spoil it every fucking day." His whispers are barely audible threats against her ear. If she thought he was obsessed before, she can't imagine how he feels after finally getting a taste. A mixture of their desire begins to stain his pants and his sack drawls up beneath them, soaked in her oozing slick and nearing his burst.

Biting his lip until he becomes familiar with the taste of his own blood, Callum recognizes the twitch in his shaft and the tightness in his abdomen on the verge of filling her with every drop of his cum. Now out of the shadows and nearing their stop, Callum pulls out just in time, bursting against the lips of her swollen cunt and roping leftover jolts of milky-syrup onto her asscheeks... the spill causes a mixture of mess to drip down her thighs, making her gorgeous long brown legs shimmer in their cum.

As the light enters the train again, Callum lowers her skirt over his violation, realizing now that the fierce grip he had on her has torn an exposing slit through the fabric, making it absolutely unwearable. He immediately takes off his jacket, tying it around her waist to cover the little bit of dignity that he can spare.

His climax is still hot against her flesh... A nuisance of tightness forms in the pit of her stomach not knowing whether it's the shame of having public sex, or the shame of her new kink for it.

As the doors ding open, her legs are like Bambi's as she takes her first steps out, but even with the after-sex trembling, Naj wastes no time to leave.

Callum notices her quick movements, ashamed of how much he lost himself with her, and worried that this is something his crush may never forgive. "Naj wait! Please wait." Onto the platform, he grabs her wrists, heart beginning to break as he notices the look of worried confusion in her eyes. "I know we went a bit far but please tell me you aren't regretting this." His heart beats out of his chest with passion, this was the most thrilling quickie he's ever had and he needs to know if she feels the same.

Tearing out of his hold, Naj quickly takes the stairs and a shortcut into the alley that lead to their homes.

His jog catches up to her as he grabs her waist and pins her body against him. As rain begins to fall, Callum raises his voice above the thunder, "don't do that to me." He pleads, eyes frantically searching hers although she is out of words to say. "I've wanted you mine for so long, don't pull away from me."

His begging is delicious, every woman's dream. Naj finds herself moaning against his lips as Callum places his forehead onto hers. His wide hands hug dimpled indents into her waist, holding on to what he has claimed as his pleads make his grasp grow tighter each second.

So close to home, Naj pulls herself away. She runs inside, hoping to find the sanity she has loss or a vibrator with charged batteries.

"Let me in." Callum continuously knocks at her front door instead of walking to the right an inch and entering inside his. Tonight, he won't allow silence to be her answer. Tonight he will not go home.

Rain pours down harder into a booming storm that Naj forgot was on the forecast for the night. She slowly pants heavy breaths against her door, hearing only the beating of rain pellets on her home.

She knows that he must be gone by now... feeling idiotically upset, although she thought she would never want a relationship, the hopeless romantic in her still wishes for some reason that Callum was still out there pleading.

But to her surprise he is, and the knocking continues again.

She gasps, opening the door to see it for herself. Like an abandoned puppy, Callum waits patiently at her front door, unmoving and without a care of how long it might've taken for her to answer— even if it meant for him to drown in this rain. He's soaked, his heart is aching to be her lover, and he'd hate to spend another moment without being able to see her face every second of his every day...

Confusion takes her, unwilling to see that this man would cross all seven seas to be her man. "Y-You wanted your jacket back, I'm guessing..."

His sly grin stretches across his handsomely full lips. "No. Let me inside."

"And why would I do that?"

The definition of his prominent jaw ticks with some type of feral desire, or could it just be love. "So I can finish what was started on the train."

Naj bites her lip in thought... After a night like tonight, her defiance and strength to ignore his advances has diminished to none at all. She steps aside. "Anything else?"

"Yeah." Callum's soaked clothes are stripped to her hardwood floor, immediately widening Naj's gaze as she lays eyes on the massive erection that had just pummeled her on the metro. "Go put on more of that perfume I like."

[alloftheimaginesblog]

at world's edge - chapter seventeen

plot: Cassidy 'Cass' Vega is losing the fight with herself and with the Infected when Tommy Miller finds her and brings her back to safety. There she finds a new purpose; to live. Along the way, she makes friends and starts to find herself falling for a man almost thirty years older than her.

character: female!OC x Joel Miller

fandom: the last of us (tv show)

cast: joel miller - pedro pascal, cass vega - adria arjona, ryan winnick - brandon sklenar

note: cass is 28, joel is 51, ellie and dina are 16/17, jesse is 19, ryan is 31, tommy is 46.

Cass made a rule that morning — no Joel.

Not in words, not in thoughts, not in the way her chest tugged every time she passed the stables or caught sight of the patrol boards. She wasn't going to look for him, wasn't going to ask Tommy if he was back, wasn’t going to check the mess hall for the quiet, brooding silhouette she used to be able to sense before seeing.

No Joel, she repeated like a prayer, gripping the edge of the counter as she took a sip of bitter tea.

She had a house now. A home. And it looked exactly like it didn't belong to anyone yet. The walls were bare and the whole place smelled like old dust and pine from the stack of firewood she hadn't yet touched.

Cass stepped outside and closed the door behind her, locking it like that might also trap her thoughts inside. She had a perimeter patrol with Tommy. She could handle that. That was easy. Tommy was easy. He wouldn't push her to speak about Joel, probably wouldn't mention his own brother unless she brought him up first. She could do this.

Tommy found her near the northern gate, one boot propped against the fence post, arms crossed like she might keep herself from falling apart if she held tight enough.

“You settlin’ in okay?” he asked, voice warm but careful.

Cass nodded. “Trying.”

“You gettin’ the hang of Jackson life?”

“I haven’t fallen off a horse in at least a week.”

Tommy chuckled. “Well, hell. You’re practically one of us.”

She smiled faintly. She liked Tommy. He didn’t treat her like glass.

They walked together, patrolling the inner perimeter, talking about small things — a busted pipe on Main Street, the latest crop yield, what winter prep would look like.

Not a single mention of Joel. And Cass was grateful. She liked that Tommy didn’t mention it, didn’t force her to have a conversation that she wasn’t ready for. Instead, just casual things. Simple things.

Before they split, Tommy paused and gave her a sidelong glance. “You ever need anything, Cass… you know where to find me, alright?”

She nodded. “Thanks, Tommy.”

Later that afternoon, Ellie and Dina showed up at her front door with arms full of supplies and hearts full of mischief.

“We’re here to rescue your sad excuse for a house,” Dina announced, barging in without waiting.

Cass blinked. “Is it that bad?” It was true. She’d been in Jackson for weeks and yet, her home stood barren and bare as though she was a temporary lodger. Which she’d assured Ellie and Dina numerous times that she was staying.

“Yes,” Ellie said. “Desperately.”

She didn’t stop them. Not when they pushed the furniture around or started hanging blankets for makeshift curtains. Not when Dina convinced her to repaint one of the kitchen chairs bright yellow because “everyone needs something cheerful.” Not when Ellie found an old record player and insisted on blasting music while they worked. Cass found a new record that she liked from an unknown band. The record skipped at some points but for the most part it was perfect.

Ellie had brought books, slotting them onto the bookshelf to round her total up to 7 books. They ate sandwiches on the floor and drank lukewarm cider while Ellie tried to teach her how to braid rope for curtain ties.

Cass laughed more that day than she had in weeks. For a while, it felt like she could forget the way his eyes used to flick to her when he thought she wasn’t looking. Or the way her name sounded in his voice. The way he had kissed her. So desperately.

And when the girls finally left her alone, house a little warmer, a little fuller — she let herself sit in the middle of the floor and take a long, slow breath.

She’d been surviving for so long, always waiting for the next thing to be taken from her. Now, for once, something had been given. But no matter how hard she tried to root herself in that truth — to feel steady — there was a ghost still tugging at the edge of her thoughts.

His name sat behind her teeth, unsaid.

His face, behind her eyes, uninvited.

She stood, lit the fire, and tried to lose herself in the comfort of her own making.

The next morning she had a patrol with Jesse and Tommy. The mud was thick on the ground from the rain but the blood was thicker.

It had been a hard patrol. A small hoard of Infected. An ambush of about 12 raiders.

They'd survived. Her shoulder, which had felt better that morning, was now throbbing in agony. They were bruised with a couple gashes from the raider's knives but nothing that would kill them.

Not today.

Cass wiped her knife clean on the grass, breath loud in her ears as she cleaned off the blood. Her jacket was damp with sweat, blood and rain. The day had been long, brutal. One ambush too many. One scream too loud.

Tommy tossed her a look as he checked the last body. “You alright?”

She nodded. “Fine.”

Jesse muttered, “Famous last words,” before kicking dirt over a blood trail.

They rode hard and didn’t speak much after that, the silence heavy in the cold air. It wasn’t until they were back at the gates of Jackson — warm light spilling from the windows of the Tipsy Bison — that Cass finally exhaled.

Jesse caught her arm as she swung down from her horse. “You earned a drink.”

Cass raised an eyebrow. “One drink?”

He smirked. “Let’s start with one.”

The bar was already half full when they arrived, laughter humming low through the air. The smell of food and whiskey hit her first, then the clink of glasses and someone strumming a guitar lazily in the corner.

It felt like stepping into a different world.

A better one.

Cass pulled off her coat, tossing it over a chair. Her limbs were sore, bruises blooming under her skin, but she felt alive. Her shoulder was stiff but the pain, she was used to, it was workable. Survivable.

Tommy ordered the first round, slamming three glasses of amber liquor on the table. “To not dying.”

They clinked. Cass downed hers in one go. It burned like hell — she welcomed it.

Then came the second. Then third.

Voices blurred around the edges. Someone joined them — Caleb from outer patrol. Then Ruth. Then a few others. Cards appeared. So did more whiskey.

She felt great. The pain numbed. She started telling jokes, joining in on conversation. Laughed as she got teased. It was easy. It was fun. Cass didn’t know when she started laughing so hard her cheeks hurt. Jesse was doing impressions of Maria, and even Tommy — usually the more reserved of the two brothers — nearly spat out his drink.

Music started up again, louder now. Someone shouting requests. Bodies swaying. The low thump of boots against wood.

Cass was two drinks past her limit when Caleb grabbed her hand with a grin.

“Come on. Dance with me, raider girl.” She rolled her eyes at that stupid nickname they'd given her when she first came to Jackson.

She groaned. “Caleb, I'm not-”

“Good,” he said, pulling her up anyway. “I'm not interested in you either. I know you're Joel's girl anyway.” Her cheeks burned but she was too drunk to hold onto that comment, too drunk to remember it. So she started dancing.

There was no heat to it, no flirtation. Just a circle of movement and rhythm, boots scraping the floor, laughter in her ears as someone else twirled past them, half-spilled beer and swinging arms. Cass stumbled once, caught herself on Caleb’s chest, then laughed harder than she had in months.

Everything felt fuzzy and warm and fine. It felt good.

Which is why she didn’t notice the way the air shifted. Didn’t hear the scrape of the door swinging open behind her. Didn’t feel the eyes on her until she turned during a clumsy spin — and saw him.

Joel.

Leaning just inside the door. Staring.

Not blinking.

His arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched so tight she thought his molars might shatter. He wasn’t dressed for patrol. His hair was still damp, maybe from a shower. His eyes — dark, storm-heavy — locked onto hers like she’d slapped him.

Cass froze mid-movement. Caleb’s hand still loosely on hers.

Joel’s lip curled slightly.

And then he turned and walked out.

And just like that, she was right back to square one.

She found him ten minutes later behind the stables, pacing like a caged animal. The whiskey hummed in her bloodstream but the buzz was gone — sobered by the weight of his stare and the bitterness in her throat.

“What the hell was that?” she snapped.

Joel turned on her, eyes sharp. “I should be askin’ you that.”

“Ask me what?” Her voice rose. “Why I was dancing? Why I was living?”

“You were drunk.”

“Yeah. I was. It’s been a shit day, Joel.”

“With your hands all over some idiot?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“I saw you.”

“You saw what you wanted to see.” Her voice cracked, breath steaming in the cold. “You saw me laughing and being close to someone not you, and it pissed you off.”

Joel stepped closer. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“I think I do.”

He said nothing.

The silence was worse than the shouting.

Cass crossed her arms tightly. “You don’t get to shut me out for weeks, treat me like I don’t exist, let me stay at yours, carry me to your bed, ignore me again, and then get jealous because I danced with someone.”

“I ain’t jealous.”

She laughed, bitter. “You’re a liar.”

Joel’s jaw flexed. “You don’t get it.”

“Then help me understand.”

He looked at her like he wanted to — like something sharp and real was clawing at the back of his throat — but he swallowed it down.

His voice came quiet. “You don’t know what you’re askin’, Cass.”

Her shoulders slumped. “I’m not asking anything, Joel. I stopped. You made it clear. I'm done, Joel. I'm over- I'm over whatever the hell this is. I tried and you've made it so perfectly clear that you don't want me so... I'm done.”

And still — still — they stood there in the quiet dark, the barn lights throwing gold halos over his shoulders, the ache thick between them. Emotions flashed across his face. Hurt. Sadness. Anger. Regret. But he didn't speak. He didn't dare say anything.

Cass finally turned away. “Next time, just keep walking.”

The light hurt.

Cass cracked one eye open and immediately groaned, rolling over and dragging the pillow over her face. Her mouth was dry, head pounding like a drum, and the taste of cheap whiskey clung to the back of her throat like regret.

She didn’t remember getting home.

She didn’t remember taking off her boots.

But her jacket was hanging neatly by the door, her socks tossed on the edge of the bed, and a half-full glass of water sat on the nightstand. She must’ve done it. Or maybe someone helped. She didn’t know.

What she did remember—unfortunately, painfully—was the look on Joel’s face when he saw her dancing. That flash of something close to betrayal. The look on his face when she told him that she was done.

She groaned louder and threw the pillow across the room.

A knock startled her.

She didn’t move.

“Cass,” came Ellie’s voice through the other side of the bedroom door, far too chipper for the hour. “Are you awake now?” Another knock. Then, without waiting, the door creaked open and Ellie peeked inside, holding a thermos in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. “You alive?”

Cass pulled the blanket over her head.

“Great,” Ellie muttered, stepping fully inside. “Just what I want to deal with at 9 a.m. — a moaning corpse.”

Cass peeked out. “If you keep talking, I’m going to die for real.”

Ellie tossed the bag on the bed and set the thermos down beside it. “Hydrate, bitch.”

Cass sat up, looking at Ellie confused. Ellie explained that she'd gotten here an hour ago, found the door hanging open with Cass's boots and jacket strewn across the furniture in the living room, "Thought I'd tidy up and wait and make sure you didn't die."

Despite the pounding in her skull, Cass snorted, squinting against the light. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Oh, immensely. Dina said you looked like you were about to declare war on gravity by the end of the night.”

Cass took a cautious sip of the tea. It was hot, herbal, and blessedly quieting the riot in her stomach. “Please don’t tell me I danced more than once.”

Ellie smirked. “Jesse said you were a hit.”

Cass closed her eyes. “I hate everything.”

“Don’t worry. You weren’t that bad. Tommy got so drunk he tried to convince Ruth he invented snow.” Ellie flopped onto the foot of the bed. “But yeah… you danced. A lot. Looked like you were having fun, though.”

Cass stared at the tea. “Yeah. I was.”

“And then Joel walked in.”

Cass winced.

Ellie watched her. “He didn’t say much. Just came home and slammed a cabinet so hard I thought he broke the door.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Cass said quietly.

Ellie nodded. “No. You didn’t.”

“But it felt wrong.”

Ellie tilted her head, picking at a thread on her sleeve. “Because you wanted him to be the one dancing with you?”

Cass didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Ellie leaned back on her elbows. “He’s got issues. Layers like a fucking onion. But I know he cares about you.”

Cass laughed bitterly. “Then he has a funny way of showing it.”

“Yeah, well. That’s Joel. He pushes the people he gives a shit about the hardest.”

Cass stared into her tea.

“I’m just tired,” she said. “Tired of guessing. Of feeling like I’m the only one bleeding.”

Ellie’s voice softened. “You’re not.”

Silence settled between them for a while. The only sound was the wind rattling against the glass.

“C’mon,” Ellie said eventually. “Let’s get you some real food. Dina made soup. And Jesse wants to tell you the story about how you almost convinced Caleb to propose to that girl from the stables.”

Cass blinked. “I what?”

“Oh yeah.” Ellie grinned. “It was glorious.”

Cass groaned again, this time with a hand over her face. “I am never drinking again.”

“You say that,” Ellie sang, already dragging her toward the door, “but you said it last month after cards night.”

Cass let herself be pulled, reluctantly amused. The headache still throbbed, and her heart still ached — but the warmth of Ellie’s banter, the comfort of her friends, the routine of a life she was still building — it helped.

Just enough.

Even if Joel haunted every corner of it.

[demonlordclayman]

LN spoilers :

I think part of why Rimuru didnt revive Clayman is because he can not. I think the way he killed Clayman and Claymans forced awakening is the reason why. From what I got from reading the part of LN where he was treating Tear with Clayman's remains the remains themselves weren't enough to revive him.

I mean you can say Rimuru pulled miracles harder than this before and you'd be right but I think this is the reasoning I think behind Clayman not returning.

Ah well my last remark on that was rather flippant I'll admit XD and lacked my usual nuance. That said, I don't think that's the primary reasoning.

LN 19 spoilers under the cut (and light 20/21 spoilers)

also because I couldn't quite remember how much of Tear's condition was explained

Okay so onwards to my thoughts. While Rimuru isn't sure that Clayman can be revived, he thinks it's pretty likely. However his main reasoning seems to be more along the lines that Clayman has been dead for several years now, and Tear is here now, in need, and so...gestures. It makes sense to him to use Clayman to heal her. The ease with which he's like "yeah I could probably do it" without even asking Ciel makes me feel like it's pretty likely, but ultimately, I don't think it factored into his decision. I realize in my last meta post I said something like, "Rimuru chose not to revive Clayman" and this is still absolutely true, but it lacks the nuance.

And the truth is, I think Rimuru makes a reasonable decision. It's more the choices made by the author that I take issue with from a narrative sense. It's VERY weird to create this set up where we go wow, Clayman actually didn't deserve this and even RIMURU can see it, but it's situated such that Rimuru chooses not to bring him back. It's like...well it just increases the tragedy with no further outlet I guess. Idk. ALL of the choices surrounding Clayman in main timeline are so weird, and only begin to make sense with Revenge, a little bit. In the main timeline he is mind controlled the entire time we know him, so we have Fuse saying in the narrative that he's a very smart scheming demon lord but what we're shown is him falling on his face and getting absolutely owned in a way that makes the statement that he's smart and scheming feel inaccurate. (Like, imagine if he came back and was able to help do planning for the new issues cropping up, as an example that would help us see in main timeline that he was those things)

Then with Revenge we get to see that yes, he is as Kagali described. But without that context this entire section is weird. As Rimuru says, it's like, "yeah, I'm sure." But then with context it's like yeah, so you're gonna bring him back, right- no? what a cocktease. Of course I'm predisposed to feel more strongly XD I imagine for most people it was like "oh neat" and you moved on.

It feels to me like Fuse had a lot of ideas for Clayman and got to showcase almost none of them in the main timeline, which makes him a weird flat character without Revenge. I don't know that having him return would have been the right choice anyway, but the whole thing just feels weird to me (and I have a fix it fic I need to get to where he does :p ).

That said I also want to point Rimuru saying that the Jesters are allies but not friends and I think this gets at why things continue to crumble and fall apart for them as a group, despite fighting on the correct side. They still aren't friends, and thus aren't subject to Rimuru's sphere of influence quite as fully, or within his sphere of concern. I think narratively this is why they aren't immune to continued loss and tragedy.

ALSO I think it's mentioned in LN 21? or 20? That Tear gets some help from Clayman being part of her and it makes her stronger but it's kind of a bummer that's all we got about it. I'll come back to this if that's in 20 since I'm reading the official release. It's a lot of stuff set up and then kind of not executed on with regards to the jesters, I guess.

[flightfoot]

The thing about the London special not outright accepting or condemning Marinette's actions itself, to me, feels like giving her more sympathy and grace than she deserves for her actions. There is no moral ambiguity here. Marinette is 100% in the wrong. And the London special goes out of its way to try and frame this as some "no right answer" type of situation and takes away every opportunity it can to have someone meaningfully confront Marinette about the impact her actions could have on Adrien.

They deny her the chance to even consider it beyond "is lying wrong?" She's almost gaslighting her boyfriend into thinking his abuser was a good person, and now she doesn't even have the excuse of not knowing how bad it was. The whole special focused on how awful Marinette felt for doing something so despicable. And I apologize for my harsh words, but that's really just how bad it is. There's no way around it, and it's honestly quite disheartening to see all the posts about Marinette being under a lot of stress and being 14 or whatever. Like sure, but I don't see nearly the same number of posts sympathizing with Adrien, who is by all means Marinette's own victim now. And anytime someone points out the very reasonable critique that Marinette is doing an incredibly bad thing, they get swamped with these excuses.

Hm... okay. So I agree that Marinette's actions in the London Special were wrong, and that she should have told Adrien the truth, even if it hurt, instead of lying to him. I disagree about there being no moral ambiguity, since "wanting Adrien not to be hurt worse than he already is and wanting to honor the last wish of a dead man, even if he was awful" are reasonable things to value, they just don't override Adrien's right to know about things that concern him, and the way she's done it is likely just as, if not more upsetting than just telling Adrien the truth.

So with the focus on Marinette during the special (and in a bunch of the fanfics that were made based off of the special, though there haven't been all that many) being mostly around Marinette's feelings about the lie, being sympathetic towards her... yeah I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, I think showing her perspective is valuable to understand why she did what she did, and to show that she was conflicted about it and honestly believed that she was doing the right thing, or trying to do the right thing at least.

On the other hand, it did sometimes feel like the London Special went beyond "these are the reasons Marinette did this, and this is the effect this decision has had on her, please empathize with her reasoning even if you disagree with her choices (even she isn't sure her choices were correct)" to "Poor Marinette, struggling under the burden of the choices she made, but she will bravely shoulder them for Adrien's happiness." I thought it mostly did okay with balancing it except for the last part, with Ladybug and Chat Noir talking about secrets and them both hugging each other over the burden of what they can't tell their partner. Because Ladybug COULD tell Chat Noir, and the person she's hiding all this stuff from IS him, so it felt icky to me to have him help in comforting her for it, when he didn't even understand what he was comforting her over.

I have the same problem with most of the fanfics about the London Special which have cropped up. I'm okay with there being some sympathy towards Marinette in the narrative for being conflicted and feeling like she should lie to Adrien "for his own good", given that she has good intentions, but a lot of it traipses into "poor Marinette is struggling heroically with having to sacrifice her commitment to the truth for the sake of Adrien's happiness." I especially don't like when Adrien feels guilty about Marinette feeling bad over that. While that's not totally out of character for him, I feel like his feelings over his own horrific situation should be centered more, rather than Marinette's guilt over feeling like she should lie to him in an effort to make his situation seem better.

Marinette IS only 14 and I can see why she honestly thinks that lying to Adrien about his father being a better person than he is would be better for him, she hasn't exactly had a lot of classes on the effects of child abuse and the different forms it could take. But there is the angle that Adrien is ALSO 14 and doesn't even have the luxury of any amount of control over the horrible situation he's in with his father.

The main sympathy I've seen given to Marinette is that well, what would YOU do if you were thrown into the situation of having to tell your crush that his father was a supervillain, he was gonna die anyway, and decided to do the one good thing of sacrificing what remained of his life to save your substitute mom? Which... yeah I definitely wouldn't feel comfortable having that conversation, but I wouldn't lie to Adrien either, I'd foist it off on Nathalie. (I do agree with the criticism that Nathalie ought to have been responsible for telling Adrien all these uncomfortable truths, given how deeply she was involved in both Gabriel's supervillainy and in Adrien's creation, but the show has decided to give Marinette all the power and all the responsibility of deciding what to tell Adrien, so here we are).

I would like there to be more attention paid to how Adrien must be feeling after all of this, with finding out his father died and being led to believe that he was actually trying to protect him the whole time, and dealing with that knowledge, than just sympathy for Marinette's position. Marinette had a choice in what to do. Adrien did not.

[scifibabee]

hey fam, my spreadsheet is FINALLY up to date so i am FINALLY getting back to the monthly rec lists! here's the cream of the crop from August :)

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

you can find past recs below:

February March April May June July

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

without further ado, let's go!

Teach Me a Lesson (Already Learned) by whenitstarted

Word Count: 3142 Summary: Will being married to Molly and cheating on her with Hannibal.

Literally just PWP because I wanted to scratch the cheating itch.

Just Thought You Should Know by EarthsickWithoutYou

Word Count: 22370 Summary: Two years after marrying Molly, Will is restless and unhappy, unable to stop thinking about Hannibal and missing his incarcerated cannibal despite all the reasons why he knows it's wrong. One night, things come to a head when Hannibal finds a way to call him. A series of sensual phone encounters begs the question of how long Will can possibly resist the desire which Hannibal so expertly cultivates.

Oh this one was GOOD. I love anything that happens in the three years Will is with Molly. The angst, the porn, chefs kiss.

More Myself Than I Am by StratsWrote

Word Count: 9176 Summary: Everyone has a soulmate. Someone they will connect with on such an intimate level that they are like one mind in two bodies. It comes on the cusp of adulthood, a shared link between two minds. It will start with feelings, emotions shared across the connection. Some people claim senses; smell and sound. Those who are thoroughly, intensely intertwined can claim to send their very thoughts towards each other, although it’s generally considered bad luck to use the connection to find each other sooner than you are meant to.It is a wonderful thing, to know that no matter who you are or what you’ve done, somebody out there will understand you. Or at least, it’s supposed to be.

Soulmate AU! Hannibal absolutely hating the bond at first felt very on brand and this was just very good.

coyote chewing on a cigarette by antiheroblake

Word Count: 5145 Summary: hannibal wants someone to care for him until he’s bequeathed his family fortune, but he doesn’t want to deal with the near-elderly perverts his friend calls their “sugar daddy”. that’s when he sets his sites on the sullen and newly rich will graham

okay if you aren't reading this series, what are you doing?? every. single. installment. is a five star!!!

No It Don't Come Easy by nobetterlove

Word Count: 10759 Summary: Will had the good sense to blush then, both Hannibal’s words and his previous actions making his heart pound hard in his chest. “Actually, uh – “ Will started, his hand reaching back to rub along his suddenly stiff neck. “I told him I was seeing someone.” Blue eyes looked up slowly, Will more than curious as to what Hannibal’s reaction would be. “Well, that’s – “ Hannibal tried to say but was cut off by Will speaking again. “I said it was you. Or implied it, at least.” There was a moment of silence where Hannibal didn’t blink or look away or even breath. Maroon eyes took Will in with shocking efficiency – he felt like Hannibal was everywhere in that moment, surrounding him in all ways possible. “You told Jack Crawford that you were seeing me.” Or: a Hannigram fake dating AU

i'm a whore for a fake dating fic, y'all know who i am.

Oddbodies by toffeecape

Word Count: 72714 Summary: Will is an off-brand sentinel. Hannibal is a reputable guide. What could go wrong?

i knew nothing about Sentinel AUs before reading this one, but i found it was perfectly well explained within the fic! and wow this was SO well done! it fits so well into canon and was just a treat to read.

This Isn't Rapture by moistdrippings

Word Count: 7467 Summary: Will wakes with a fever, and Hannibal prescribes some unconventional treatments.

yeah, just gonna drop this one here.

stink in the nostrils by murdertrout

Word Count: 49137 Summary: Secret Omega Hannibal is not pleased that he has imprinted on Will Graham. He avenges himself on his biology by getting Will Graham put behind bars. But when Will figures out what he’s been hiding and tampers with his suppressants, triggering his first heat, they both get more than they bargained for. Alternate S2b if it were entirely A/B/O porn.

LOVED THIS.

A Most Gentle Death by mokuyoubi

Word Count: 8956 Summary: “What is that?” Will asks tightly.“A blend of benzodiazepines and barbiturates,” Hannibal says. “It will render one unconscious, immobile, and largely insensate.”Will stares at the syringe in shocked disbelief. The shame and embarrassment are still present, but have taken a backseat to dry-mouthed, hopeless longing. Hannibal turns the syringe end on end between his fingers. “Would you like me to administer it to myself?” he asks.

there is something so satisfying about Hannibal not being phased by pretty much anything that Will wants.

A Wolf in the Night by itsbeautiful

Word Count: 3857 Summary: “Leave them on…” Will rumbled, grabbing hair and pushed a head down his stomach. “…and suck my cock.”Hannibal looked up with a dark stare and a head tilt, struggling to catch his breath. “No ‘please?’”“I know…I don’t need to ask, politely or otherwise, to get what I want from you now.”Red eyes glittered with hunger, tongue flicking out to taste the power left on lips.“Isn’t that what you wanted, Doctor Lecter? For me to take what I want from you.”

i'm pretty sure i just love anything this author writes, wow. you don't technically need to have read Transcendent Suffering, but it'll make more sense if you have.

When It Clicks by summerisblue

Word Count: 29838 Summary: Will and Hannibal have been spending a lot of time together lately.Because they’re friends, Will likes to reason. Will likes to tell Hannibal that too, just to clarify. Hannibal might be more than a little frustrated.

this one really hit my "oblivious sugar baby Will Graham" button. i love him so much.

Your Ex by murdertrout

Word Count: 3810 Summary: “What was your last relationship like?”“Uh,” Will says. “Intense.”“Good intense or bad intense?”“Yes,” Will says.“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want,” Molly says, “but I just want you to know you can.”In retrospect, this is a mistake.--We usually assume that Will clammed up about his past when he was with Molly. But what if actually Will tells Molly way, way, way too much about his relationship with Hannibal?Or, the one where Will starts talking about his “ex" and doesn't stop.

i love when Will is an idiot. this fic was just silly and perfect.

Ball Toss by raiast

Word Count: 22307 Summary: The carnival AU no one asked for. Hannibal accompanies Alana to a carnival and meets one Will Graham, whose game booth is less than above board. Hannibal does not approve.

YES YES YES. i really loved this dark Will!!

Pushing Comfort by lurid_erotic_intimacy (virtuous_contract)

Word Count: 14559 Summary: Habitually, Hannibal keeps his steps quiet as he makes his way to Will’s upper floor. It’s probably nothing out of the ordinary that has kept Will from making their morning session (not a session, a conversation). Still, it’s best to know for certain.Or: Will starts missing his appointments. Hannibal is happy to investigate why. Can be read as a canon-insert. A quite sweet and kink-flavoured getting together story.

this was sweeter than i would have expected it to be based on the tags, but mmmm this hit the right buttons for me!

a world of hurt by divinetheatre

Word Count: 7213 Summary: Will takes it slow, pausing between the strikes to let Hannibal work through the sensations, patient — for now. In time, when Hannibal’s self control wavers, and his knees start to kiss one another after every spanking, Will will pin him open and punish him for that too. Relentlessly.

well, we learn new things about ourselves every single day, right?

i know who you are by divinetheatre

Word Count: 14125 Summary: Will turned again as though the turmoil in Hannibal’s heart had clamored loud enough for him to hear. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. What Hannibal might’ve said, the last thing he could’ve admitted to Will, did not pass his lips. Will strode to him and grasping Hannibal’s face in both hands, kissed him. Deep and hot with passion that did not surprise Hannibal but overwhelmed him. He’d known it would be this way, but he had never been prepared. Not entirely.

Vulnerable Hannibal and Will being the most tender understanding human? Give me moreeeeeeeee.

a sort of madness by divinetheatre

Word Count: 5239 Summary: He chose me.The euphoric mantra echoes through his mind as he drags the panties down Hannibal’s long, slim legs. They open for him. The slick heat betwixt dampens the coverlet for him. What happens to Hannibal’s body after this is because of him.

i had to stop and remember to breathe multiple times during this fic so. do what you will with that information.

Secretary by FragileTeacup

Word Count: 77469 Summary: Will Graham needs a job. Since quitting the FBI, he’s been adrift for months, broken and lost; chasing a desire he doesn’t understand in increasingly destructive ways. What he needs is stability, direction, something to help put his life back in order and quiet the buzzing in his head. A chance encounter with the classifieds might just give him exactly what he needs. Secretary Wanted.Dr. H. Lecter. Psychiatric private practice.Typing and good manners essential.Must follow direction.

THE secretary AU. need i say more??

Layover by raiast

Word Count: 16978 Summary: When Hannibal misses his connecting flight to DC he is forced to obtain a hotel room for the evening. When the last remaining room is seemingly double-booked he realizes that the adult thing to do is generously offer to share the space. And if the other man in need of lodging happens to be a seemingly disheveled, ill-mannered and altogether beautiful stranger, well, that's just fine.

ONLY ONE BED ONLY ONE BED. alternate first meeting AU that i adored.

Scent of a Woman by Devereauxs_Disease

Word Count: 4860 Summary: After the fall, Will assumed he and Hannibal would progress to a romantic relationship. So when Hannibal comes home smelling of fancy perfume, Will is...distressed. How do serial killers handle jealousy and romantic confessions? Not well, y'all...NOT WELL.

they're both so stupid and i love them. Hannibal's behavior had me cracking up because of course he would behave this way.

Will Graham Had a Secret by hannigramsarah (WrightworthSarah)

Word Count: 4442 Summary: Will Graham has a somewhat slutty past. What happens when he meets Hannibal Lecter and discovers his proclivities may not be as secret as he might have hoped?

this was lovely.

Something Borrowed by BelladonnaWyck

Word Count: 11206 Summary: “What’s wrong with your green card?” Will can’t hope to stop the words from tumbling forth - didn’t even know they were about to spill from his mouth when he opened it - and his cheeks flush when he realizes how intrusive and presumptuous that question is.

Hannibal is Hannibal and they are perfet. i need more green card proposals STAT.

Touch by raiast

Word Count: 10902 Summary: From the kinkmeme prompt:"Going into an intense heat, Will volunteers to be shared and passed around by a group of Alphas. Hannibal finds out. Does he stop it from even happening? Sneak in and sign in to join the group?"What happens when an Omega with a voyeurism kink signs up for a Public Heat and his possessive Alpha psychiatrist applies for a volunteer position? Hint: lots of knotting, lots of come, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit of bloodshed.

FERAL WILL GRAHAM. i really don't think i need to say more.

put your aching teeth to good use, my dear by wormsin

Word Count: 10516 Summary: alternate a/b/o ending to Fromage. when Will sees Hannibal in his office, bloody but alive, he goes into a feral rut. Hannibal tries to pacify him.

again, feral Will Graham just hits all the right buttons.

Tender by McRibFarewellTour

Word Count: 5117 Summary: "Will loved the violence, of course he did, but he loved Hannibal more, and he wanted there to be a clear distinction between the two. He wanted proof that Hannibal loved him, Will Graham, not anyone else who could be convinced to empathize with a serial killer. He didn’t want to push Hannibal against a wall, he wanted to hold and be held by him."A defense of seeking gentleness in a world of violence.

OUCH. in the best way possible, big ouch.

Husband Under Contract by house_of_lantis

Word Count: 49685 Summary: Count Hannibal Lecter has always enjoyed his bachelorhood and freedom, preferring to live a life as an established gentleman and lord of his estate. But Hannibal finds himself married and the last thing he wants is a clingy, tedious spouse who expects romance and to take advantage of Hannibal’s wealth and social status. Will Graham couldn’t care less about the arranged marriage as long as he can keep his job and keep his dogs. He’s amused by Hannibal’s attempts to manipulate him; and when he finally gets Hannibal in bed, he thanks him for a good time and returns to his own suite. What will Hannibal do when he realizes that he’s completely in love with his husband? And can Will ever see past their marriage contract to sharing a real life of love and passion?

An incredible royalty (kind of?) AU. i love how Will just does not give a fuck about upsetting Hannibal, much to the horror of the house staff.

pretty words from a silver tongue by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 3595 Summary: Will’s hookups (as few and far in between as they are) always end the same; deliberate distance between bodies and a cold, empty bed come morning. No one ever stays the night.

touch starved and vulnerable Will??? sign me UP.

i could love you with my eyes closed by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 2276 Summary: In Will Graham's three and a half decades on this planet, no one has ever made him feel like this.or, Hannibal is a little TOO good in bed, leaving his boy a little... emotional.

relatable content.

Night Calls and Liquid Courage by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 4249 Summary: "How much did you drink, Will?”“All of it.”“All of it, hm? That certainly is a lot.” _________________ Beverly Katz hand-delivers a very flirty, very drunk Will Graham to Hannibal's doorstep in the middle of the night. Drunken confessions and lots of cuddling ensue.

fluffy goodness, what more could ya want?

your touch is my safety by feralwillgrhm

Word Count: 4183 Summary: Will had been touch-starved for a while, but he didn't realise how much he craved it until Hannibal came into his life and initiated touch between them repeatedly. It left him wanting more and trembling at night in bed, but he never knew how to tell Hannibal. That was until he finally cracked. Or: 5 times Hannibal touched Will and he barely kept things together, and 1 time he gave in.

this was so sweet and tender!!

I called your name ‘til the fever broke by omnilegent

Word Count: 4363 Summary: Hannibal tilted his head in that cat-like way of his and said, apropos of nothing, ‘I believe you are experiencing touch deprivation, Will.’Will was not in the fucking mood.‘I touch myself plenty, doctor.’ He snapped, realising what that sounded like after he was already committed to saying it and ultimately not really caring. He couldn’t be bothered for all this dancing around half truths via metaphors today.———Hannibal offers Will a helping hand in relieving his touch deprivation…

can y'all tell i was on a "touch starved Will Graham" kick? that's all this is.

the fire went wild (the flames went higher) by antiheroblake

Word Count: 15359 Summary: will takes hannibal out to make up for the shoes he didn’t get, but when hannibal tries to show his appreciation (and how poorly he can behave), will decides to show him something new

show me the places where the others gave you scars by madeofbees

Word Count: 4957 Summary: Will has a bad time at a bad scene; Hannibal helps.Or: if Will has such a strong empathy response to horror and violence, what would happen if Hannibal immersed him in pleasure?

can y'all imagine if this is what Hannibal had done from the start? jesus christ.

Heal Your Wolf(hound) Well by devotional_doldrums

Word Count: 53396 Summary: From a distance, Hannibal enjoys heightening Will’s sickness. But confronted with the injured man lying in his hospital bed… Hannibal’s not so sure he enjoys it, anymore. Chicken soup (for the serial killer’s soul).

i love getting to see Hannibal actively regret his choices. 10/10.

Crystalline by DruidGurl (DaoistDruid)

Word Count: 59216 Summary: Stripper!Hannibal AU (sort of) The proprietor of a successful restaurant, Hannibal (who may or may not be a serial killer and definitely WAS an exotic dancer in his youth) is coerced by an old acquaintance to take a job dancing at a bachelor party. When he shows up, he realizes a mistake has been made, but he also realizes something far more interesting: the groom to be is hotter than Mt. Vesuvius. Circumstance and intent lead the boys where it always should: into bed. A lot.

GIVE ME ALL OF THE CHEATING FICS PLEASE. Everything in this fic was top tier. Hannibal as a dancer? Hell yes. The dirty talk? Yes. The fucking all night long marathon sex sessions? YES. Will being an absolute SLUT for Hannibal??? YES PLEASE GOD.

all i want is you by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 8892 Summary: We should do something tomorrow."Did you have anything in mind?“It’s your birthday.”Ah, he wishes it were so simple. If Hannibal were to wish for anything, it would be Will Graham underneath him, gasping, moaning, whispering his name while he placed claiming bites on his beautiful, porcelain throat. Such an image is so lovely… and so achingly far away. There is nothing wrong with wishing for it, but if it is a boundary that is never crossed, Hannibal can live with it. He can live this quiet, friendly, occasionally bloody life they live simply as friends if it means he continues to have it.That does not mean Hannibal won’t settle for his second favorite. (It isn’t really settling though; their shared hunts are the greatest adventures he’s ever had.)“Well, there is that dreadful Senor Pérez down at the docks…” _________________ A year after the fall. Hannibal and Will are friends and partners in crime, but nothing more. Hannibal is... fine with that. He is content having Will in any way that he is allowed if it means Will stays.Today is Hannibal's birthday. Will surprised him with a kiss.

This made me want to tear up in a good way. It is so TENDER. God, they are so soft and I love them.

le bel homme sans merci by nbcravenstag

Word Count: 7481 Summary: “La Belle Dame Sans Merci.” Will recites breathlessly.Hannibal lets out a pleased hum. “The painting is a rather whimsical rendition of the muse. Keats’ poem depicts a wretched end for the knight where he awakens alone in the field, abandoned by the love of his life, whereas Dicksee’s work focuses on the maiden’s affection and the knight’s surrender to his own heart. Everything he knows and feels, it all changes when he sees her for the first time." _________________ Hannibal leaves his sketchbook in Will's car. He can't stop himself from looking inside, from wanting to know, but he never expected every drawing to be of him.

Hannibal "accidentally" leaving his sketchbook in the car where Will will absolutely find it? Chefs kiss. THEY'RE IN LOVE.

Whiskey Lullaby by thisisthefamilybusiness

Word Count: 1943 Summary: Hannibal Lecter only gives one apology in his entire life, and it is to the man he never meant to kill, the one he murdered not with violence, not with a knife, not as the Chesapeake Ripper, but with assumptions and carelessness and arrogance, to Will Graham. (Fill for the following prompt on HannibalKink: "Alone on the Water-esque fic? "Will you miss me, Hannibal?" "Until the end of my days, William." For those not in the Sherlock fandom, it's basically a deathfic. You can do it with cancer, like AotW, or AIDS, Will's encephalitis....anything you want. Even maybe Hannibal killing Will and these are their last words? Just. Please. Hurt me.")

OUUUGGGHHHH. Thank you, Serri. Will dies because he's HIV+ and Hannibal didn't know and let the encephalitis get so bad that Will got full blown AIDS. Ouch.

Guidance by jonnimir

Word Count: 3511 Summary: Kinktober Day 30: Gagging + Swallowing.Will acts out at a party, and Hannibal helps him calm down by keeping his mouth otherwise occupied.

Will going into subspace!!! I do love a good cockwarming fic. (also this might be what i need when i'm throwing up an attitude shhhh...)

[lastoneout]

New Pinned/Intro Post!

Hi, I'm Loo(or Alex), I'm a disabled queer artist and writer as well as a furry vtuber who streams four days a week on twitch(mostly Minecraft but also Soulsborne games and a variety of other stuff).

You may know me from The Tuna Post, in which several thousand of you came together to "force" me to buy damn near 30 American Dollars worth of imported fancy canned tuna to eat and review live on stream. If you're here for it, said live review can be found on twitch and on my youtube channel. TL;DR: 10/10 would recommend.

I currently can't work, so if you like what I've got going on here and want to help me out, I take donations over on my ko-fi <3 Aside from that, follows on twitch help a lot, even if you never end up watching!

(Also, I sell my twitch emotes as stickers on redbubble!)

As a general heads up I am heavily introverted and have ADHD, and between those and my disabilities eating up my energy I often take a while to respond to messages/tags/reblogs/DMs and sometimes forget entirely. This isn't anything against you, and I'm working on it, but just something to keep in mind if you plan on interacting with me a lot.

You are welcome to put screenshots of my text posts on other sites/in your little tiktoks and youtube shorts, but I have rules.

(Note, this does not apply to my art. If I find you reposting my art I will do everything in my power to destroy you.)

Above all else, I would simply appreciate it if you asked first. I am almost always okay with this sort of thing if people are actually willing to reach out and ask permission.

Do not crop out, censor, or otherwise remove my username from the post.

If it's on a site I have an account on, I would love to be tagged in it. I'm a small creator, the boost would really help. Links are in my caard!

Do not edit the post or purposefully leave parts out, you must repost it in it's entirety with the words I actually used. The first post of mine that got big enough to get reposted ended up having an entire paragraph that summarized my point cut off, and that's just rude. (Exception: If you ask first we can talk about editing the post to remove swears and such.)

No AI. If you use AI for any part of the video I do not give you permission to use my content in any way.

FAQ:

Do you take commissions?

Not at the moment, but hopefully in the future!

What do you use for art?

Wacom Intuos tablet + Clip Studio Paint on the PC, though these days I mostly use CSP on a Samsung Galaxy Tab s6 since I can use it in bed on my low spoons days.

What do you want to go to school for?

Digital Art and American Sign Language!

You talk about being sick all the time/having health problems, what's wrong with you?

Too many things to list <3 but the most notable ones are chronic migraines, hEDS, and ADHD.

Queer?

I'm ace, bisexual, bigender, and butch. I'm also polyam but currently in a very happy monogamous relationship and don't have plans to change that. My pronouns are she/they, and while I would prefer to not have people use he/him with me you are highly encouraged to use masculine forms of address(sir, guy, dude, king, man, my guy, grandpa, dad, etc.) whenever appropriate. My assigned sex/gender at birth is none of your business.

Who's Yotsuba?

Yotsuba is an adorable little gremlin and the main character of my favorite manga, Yotsuba &!, and you should go read it right now seriously it's amazing go read it go read it GO READ IT-

What's "ask to tag"?

The tumblr equivalent of "author chose not to use archive warnings", I put it on anything that seems like it could use a trigger warning but where no one has specifically asked me to tag for that trigger yet. Things I currently (try to) tag for: flashing lights/eyestrain, insects, suicide, fatphobia/diet culture/disordered eating, my hero academia, gore/body horror, current events, us politics, politics, covid, cats, and anything nsfw goes under nsft.

I can't promise to be 100% consistent with these tho, between the ADHD and the migraines I am very forgetful, so slip ups are bound to happen.

Loo? Like the bathroom??

LOO is short for LastOneOut, I'm american and forgot people call it that, you can write it as Lou or just call me Alex if it makes you feel better.

LookingForLoo?? Like looking for the bathroom??

On websites where LastOneOut is taken I'm LookingForLoo because I'm literally looking for LOO, LastOneOut. I thought it was clever T_T

Sideblogs?

I have a nsfw alt @looafterdark (18+ only I swear to god I keep a loaded gun pointed at the follow list) and a writing inspo blog @last-scrapbook. I also once ran a couple of character ask blogs, though I don't plan on starting them up again, and I was the mod behind @pokeprofshowdown.

Who's Eugene/Ophelia/Sasha?

My ocs from an original story I'm working on. I get brainrot and post about them a lot. You are ALWAYS allowed to ask me about them!

What's your fursona/can I make art of you?

I'm a dog, kinda like a papillion but not really, and yes you may. My ref sheet is here.

Can I repost your funny text posts to twitter/insta/reddit?

Sure, all I ask is that you include the entire post and leave my username visible. You can also tag me if you want, I'm lookingforloo on twitter, insta, and reddit <3

Can I repost your art/writing?

Absolutely not.

Can I plug your art or writing into an AI program?

Absolutely not under any fucking circumstances.

Can I use your art in an amv/fandom board/as a cover for my playlist or fic/ect.?

Depends, DM me first.

Can I write fic/make fanart based on your fics/art/HCs/AUs?

Absolutely <3

Can I write fic/make fanart based on your OCs?

Art yes, fics no.

What's your stance on the discourse?

There is no amount of posting online about contentious topics that could ever match the sheer power of simply going out into your community and finding a project that helps other people that you can dedicate your time and energy to. Also wear a mask, vote(if you can), and listen to marginalized people when they speak about their experiences.

How old are you?

29

[lostinlovingrevery]

So one accidental costuming detail i love about the movie!Logan overall is how his hair went from big and fluffy to short and contained. Like i know its accidental bc of how the x men as a franchise keep going to studio to studio with their rights. But I like how his hair shows his journey from the youthful feral half amnesitic drifter to the experienced grounded self aware public figure. Like to me it reminiscent of when a puppy or kitten is young and have all their all fluff, only to lose that fluff when they grow older. When you look at the X Men trilogy you see Logans hair become more structured and less wild but still big bc hes "young" in those movies. DoFP shows this well bc older Logan has short, structured hair with white streaks (yum!) AND when hes sent to the past his hair is big but structured bc that past Logan before the transfer knew who he was since this was before the trauma that made him forget his past. Origins! Logan you can argue that his hair is foreshadowing of what gonna happen to him since that's the trauma that will make him forget. Any who, these are my rambling thoughts I wanted to inflict upon you and the rest of the world. More headcanons too come.

Ps. For the ask challenge Rose 🌹 but since your a horticulturalist what's your favorite flower for each season?

AHAAAHHVFJHFEBHEHG!!! OMG !!!!

Okay Im SO GLAD someone noticed this detail!!!!! I never mentioned it cuz idk just didn't but it's something like I thought about while writing fics like his hair really does reflect on his current character!!!

i also answered your ask thingy below the cut <3

I added pics below so we can all marvel at his hair evolution. Also @rosenclaws has made a fantastic tier list of Logans hair too btw

From the first two (3 is still close to the same just a lil...poofier?)

(i had to stack pics on each other bc otherwise it crops his hair out LOL)

2013 and 70s DOFP have similar where its a mix of a lil crazy but also styled and a bit shorter?

worstie and old man logan have similar hair lengths too. Arguably almost the same style except worsties kinda go forward while the old mans is a lil more sticky uppy

omg im just noticing his hair looks like freshly mowed grass lol

but anyway i could go deeper into this but you said EVERYTHING I was thinking. I am gonna add that my headcanon is that Logan has a bit of a 70s look in between his dofp and trilogy era!!!!! bc...Idk, he just looks so good. Probs a tad older compared but!!!!!

real quick for the ask:

Rose: Favorite flower?

Okay YES, my fav flower of all time are peonies i just ADORE THEM. I love how they're all close up and then they open over time to these big beautiful poofs. like me :)

for the seasons....

Fall: Panicle Hydrangea- technically a shrub but they're fall blooming and beautiful so!!!

Winter: Daffodils, perfect after a dreary winter to see popping up from the ground <3

Spring: I LOVE cherry blossoms but sinces thats a tree-

Lilac!!! (shhh its a shrub) or Wisteria!!!

Summer: Black eyed susans- the ones in my garden are about to bloom!!!!

[haunted-by-shadows]

Trans Theon Brainrot (NSFW marked)

Okay so I’ve had severe transmasc Theon brainrot for the past few days after going on a very GoT/Greyjoy themed holiday

These are 99.9% based on showverse Theon in a modern AU but there are a few elements from the books sprinkled throughout. Most of them are pretty angsty (it is GoT) but there’s some fluff and crack-ish ones too

This is based on personal experiences/fantasies as a trans man. They’re also just my personal headcanons, which I separate from actual canon events/characterisation <3

Minors DNI, NSFW headcanons included

SFW Content Warnings:

Dysphoria, transphobia (internal & external), attachment issues, Balon’s A+ parenting, abusive childhoods, fucked-up views of gender norms/roles, self-destructive behaviours/poor coping mechanisms, mental illness, self harm, unhealthy/abusive relationships, menstruation (transmasc character), implied pregnancy (transmasc character), injection/surgery mention, Ramsay Bolton, consensual Thramsay

NSFW Content Warnings:

Explicit consensual Thramsay (Theon is totally onboard with everything but I cannot stress this enough, Ramsay can be a mean SOB), AFAB terminology, feminisation, established power dynamics, general BDSM mention, vaginal penetration (trans man), humiliation/degradation, Daddy kink, breeding kink, size kink, ownership kink, marking/biting/scarification

Personality:

* For all his outward arrogance and inflated self-importance, Theon is deeply insecure and anxious. He attempts to keep the people in his life distant and detached emotionally, believing that it’ll hurt less when they inevitably abandon him

* His tendency to act like an asshole is half mimicry of the adults in his childhood, especially his uncle Euron, and half defence mechanism. Years of being a disappointment to his father has created a toxic, twisted persona that he believes Balon would finally be proud of. In reality, he’s just a scared little boy who wants to be loved

* During his teenage years, Theon suppressed anything about himself that could be construed as feminine, worried that others would question his identity or that he wouldn’t be ‘trans’ enough

* (Before meeting Ramsay) In order to gain any sort of attention and feel desirable, Theon acts overly flirtatious and puts himself in toxic intimate situations. Robb and Jon have had to step in to rescue a very-intoxicated Theon from many unsavoury characters on nights out

* Deep down, Theon is very sentimental and soft - he adores the ocean, animals and flicking through books his mother used to read to him

* Now in his mid-twenties, Theon is more authentically confident. He’s grown his hair out a little, paints his nails and wears eyeliner, steals Sansa’s cropped shirts - he looks damn good and he knows it (besides, Jon does it too)

The Greyjoys:

* Theon’s relationship with his father is nonexistent, aside from the lasting emotional scars, fear of abandonment and chronic insecurity stemming from his childhood

* Even as a child, Theon was regarded as the ‘weakest’ Greyjoy heir. Pre-transition, he was already much more sensitive, gentle and emotional than his older sister, Yara, who took after their brothers

* Yara is fiercely supportive of Theon’s transition, she has always known her baby brother was a bit different and loved him regardless. After Alannys’ death, Yara takes over protecting Theon from their father the way their mother used to. However, she takes a tough-love approach rather than Alannys’ coddling one, fearing that Theon will not be able to defend himself should she not be there

* Balon’s neglect and abuse of Theon is less to do with the fact that he’s trans, and almost entirely to do with the fact that he fails to live up to the image of Maron and Rodrik - if he’s suddenly going to have a third son, he bloody better act like a traditional Ironborn man (Theon does not, at all)

* In all honesty, Balon doesn’t give enough of a shit about his kids to care about their gender identities - he just wishes his only living male heir could’ve turned out to be Yara instead. In his eyes, at least she would be tough and gritty enough to take ‘the role of a man’

The Starks:

* At first, Theon deeply resented his adoptive family and the bond they share with one another - it wasn’t fair that he couldn’t have what the Stark children could. It took many years but eventually, Theon let his guard down and truly felt like part of the family; he now considers Ned and Cat his parents, and the Stark kids his siblings.

* When Theon came out, he told Sansa first. She proceeded to kick everyone out of the house to plan a gender reveal party with Margaery and Dany. Though he pretended to be embarrassed, Theon had never felt more affirmed in his life

* Jon and Theon used to despise each other; the latter would go out of his way to demean his adoptive brother because at least he wouldn’t be last in the pecking order anymore. As time went on, both realised they were as lonely and rejected as the other. Theon began dragging Jon out to socialise with their classmates, while Jon introduced Theon to his favourite bands, his favourite emotional outlet. Ned eventually converted part of the garage into a makeshift studio for the pair to thrash out all their frustrations. They’ve seen Nine Inch Nails live together four times. Jon cried every time, Theon hasn’t told a soul

* Once, when he was seventeen, Theon injured himself by swimming in his binder and wasn’t allowed to wear it for a week. He hid in his room for three days before Robb and Jon burst into his room, both wearing bras they stole from Sansa and stuffed with socks. They refused to take them off and kept attention away from Theon until he could safely bind again

* Arya bonds with Theon as he helps them explore their own gender identity and expression, constantly reassuring them that they can look and act however they want no matter who they are

* Even though he’s now starting high school, Rickon still introduces Theon to everyone as his big brother. Theon doesn’t think he’ll ever stop feeling gender euphoria when he hears it

* Ned is a little awkward around Theon for a while, he’s out of his depth and doesn’t want to offend the boy. In his office, he spends hours pouring over forums for parents of trans youth, medical documents and trans charity webpages. If anything, he goes into extreme, unnecessary detail in his research, which is mildly embarrassing but Theon appreciates the effort all the same

* In Cat’s eyes, Theon is a troubled, problem child: starting fights at school, excessive drinking, cutting himself, disappearing for days at a time. However, when he finally receives his first appointment with a youth gender specialist, she holds his hand the whole way to the clinic

* Bran finds comfort in the fact that Theon is different too. At times he considers himself an outsider compared to his siblings, but Theon listens to his rants and truly understands how he feels

Ramsay:

* A brief overview of how I headcanon Rams in this scenario before I get into his and Theon’s relationship. Ramsay has a dysfunctional family, anger management issues, a major obsession with Theon Greyjoy and some form of antisocial personality disorder. He’s nowhere near as depraved as he is in the show/books but he is still controlling, impulsive, violent and all-round antisocial. His attachment insecurities due to his relationship with Roose has led to a warped view of love and a desire to ‘own’ those he has deep feelings for - Roose has drilled into him that showing affection and vulnerability are signs of weakness. This manifests most aggressively around Theon (who he truly loves, adores, cares for usually tolerates)

* Anyways, Ramsay doesn’t strike me as the transphobic type - he hates everyone equally. He’s quite supportive, in the sense that Theon is still his pet regardless of what his body looks like. In fact, Theon being trans gives Ramsay more opportunities to control/change his appearance

* Ramsay gladly plays the role of ‘daddy’; he has his own daddy issues to work through and Theon is desperate for any kind of praise and validation. Sometimes all Theon wants is a firm hand to guide him and put him in his place, which works perfectly for Ramsay

* Their attachment to one another is undoubtedly unhealthy but it’s a perfect dynamic: Theon finally feels wholly wanted and Ramsay knows that Theon can’t won’t ever leave him

* They met in university; Theon studying art and Ramsay, biology. Well… Ramsay notices Theon from afar, sees right through his mask of confidence and makes it his life mission to rip it off forever. Robb and Jon are immediately suspicious when Ramsay begins cosying up to Theon, but Theon is smitten; a handsome, intelligent guy is interested in him and knows exactly what to say to validate him, almost as if Ramsay already knows everything about him…

* Theon’s hormone treatment begins after he starts being owned by dating Ramsay, as up until that point hormones and surgery have been financially unattainable (Balon has never lifted a finger to help). Luckily, the Bolton’s are loaded from their totally-legal business practises and Ramsay is more than happy to pay for Theon to attend a private clinic. Although this comes across to everyone else as uncharacteristically sweet for Ramsay, he secretly plans to hold Theon’s testosterone hostage should he ever think of leaving :)

* Ramsay insists on administering all of Theon’s testosterone shots and blood tests. Theons knows it makes Ramsay feel in control, but finds it endearing nonetheless

* Rams absolutely gets agitated whenever Theon gets his period, because how dare his boy bleed and be in pain when it’s not by his own hands. This is the main thing he can’t control and hates feeling like he doesn’t have complete ownership over Theon’s body. Theon has had to explain repeatedly that he can’t just ‘hold it in’, as Ramsay is a possessive motherfucker and has convinced himself that Theon is purposefully depriving him of his bodily fluids

* This belief is in spite of Ramsay’s biology degree because whenever Theon is concerned, the laws of science cease to exist because ‘the little bitch has to be doing this just to spite me’

* When Theon announces that he has found a surgeon for top-surgery, Rams almost has an aneurism from jealousy - no one else is allowed to scar or mark his precious pet. Subsequently, he pays his way into a plastic surgery course in order to perform Theon’s top surgery himself (in the Dreadfort’s basement)

* Roose is almost pleased when Theon moves into the Dreadfort; Ramsay is completely infatuated with the boy and is ‘behaving himself’ more than usual. He is unbothered by Theon’s transition, but dreads the possibility of mini Ramsay’s wreaking havoc in the future

NSFW Headcanons

* Ramsay lives for the spike in Theon’s libido a few days after his T-shot, loves how needy and insatiable he gets for any kind of stimulation, constantly dripping wet and ready for Ramsay to use whenever he pleases

* No matter where they are, Ramsay has a filthy mouth and it drives Theon insane. Rams loves watching his boy squirm after whispering something dirty to him during family gatherings

* Though he used to suffer from a lot of genital dysphoria, Theon adores bottoming for Ramsay; the man has an impressive dick and a damn oral fixation, he eats pussy like a god

* A size queen through and through, the size/build difference between Ramsay and himself really gets Theon going; it’s so easy for his boyfriend to pick him up and slam him against the nearest surface, or pin him underneath his weight. It makes Theon feel so incredibly small and it takes his breath away. Similarly, Ramsay loves how slim Theon is and incorporates it frequently into his bedroom talk - “Aww, is my cock hurting you, sweetling? Is it too much for your little pussy to take?..”(Theon almost cums from words alone)

* Rams 100% has a breeding kink; marking Theon from the inside, carrying his baby, showing everyone else who he belongs to - Theon isn’t exactly opposed to that fantasy either ;)

* Speaking of kinks! Both have a hardcore daddy kink, self explanatory. They pretty much have a 24/7 Dom/sub dynamic and enjoy many aspects of BDSM

* The first time Ramsay, jokingly, used the nickname ‘Princess’, Theon tried (and failed) to hide the fact that his boxers were soaked through. Now, Rams drops it casually into conversations for the satisfaction of watching Theon attempt to hold himself together

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I absolutely have more headcanons in the deepest darkest recesses of my brain but these are all I can put into words atm

[quinloki]

Kinktober 2023 - Day 7

Nothing says love like being... Caught.

Character: Penguin Reader: cisfem Warnings: manual masturbation, caught in the act, pet names, praise, 18+

Summary: You've kept your desire for Penguin a secret since joining the Heart Pirates. There's just more important things to worry about, but your body keeps driving you to distraction, so you find hidden places on the submarine to handle business privately.

So you intended, at least. -:- 1160 words

Click

You couldn’t get your crew-mate out of your head. Nothing was doing the trick, and you didn’t even know how to bring up your dilemma to anyone.

You couldn’t ask the Captain for help, he’d been friends with Penguin for years. Before the Heart Pirates were even officially the Heart Pirates. It would simply be too weird. You considered going to Ikkaku, but if she knew you had the hots for a fellow crew-mate she wouldn’t let it go.

You were certain that it was okay for you to have your crush, and that if it became more then that would be okay as well. What held you back mostly was that it felt like something small and silly compared to everything else.

The captain had big plans, and everyone’s primary concern was making sure those plans came to fruition.

A little thing like a crush was just… not important.

Important or not though, it was distracting, and you needed to do what you could to mitigate that distraction. So here you were, tucked away in a corner behind one of the bigger, but cooler, broilers in the engine room, taking advantage of the only moment you had alone on the ship.

Hands pulled inside your uniform, you were leaning against the wall, fingers teasing your clit. Back here no one would question you coming back out covered in sweat, so it was good cover.

Your mind wandered a little. You imagined that Penguin was behind you and not the wall. He was built solid, just like the rest of the crew, uniform pulled down in the heat of the room, reaching between your legs, and praising you softly. You were his best girl in your fantasy, moaning quietly, and whimpering his name as he teased you, bringing his “good girl” to a satisfying climax for all her hard work.

Pleasure was building up in you, your eyes rolling back a little as you relished the idea of having him bring you over the edge one day. You wanted to cry for him, whine for him – tell him how wet he made you. Anything, everything. He was so sweet, but you hoped he could be every bit as stern and forceful as the captain.

“P-penguin, puh-please…” You gasp the words softly, chasing your pleasure carefully. It wouldn’t do to scream in euphoria and alert the whole bloody ship.

You brace your legs, his name tumbling from your lips again. You’re so close. You want more, you want him to just hold you down and rail you until you can’t think anymore.

“Oh.”

Your eyes snap open and you see Penguin standing at the edge of the boiler, eyes wide, face quickly turning red. Your boiler suit is still zipped up, but there’s no mistaking what you were doing. You were caught, and by the absolute last person you wanted to be caught by.

You look away, embarrassment making your entire body ache.

“… I… heard my name.” He says, looking back over his shoulder before turning back toward you. He steps over the lip, coming into your little space.

“Sorry.” Your voice is small, and you take a step back. “I… um. I’m sorry.”

“What for?” He questions and you turn to look at him finally. He’s pulled his hat off, kind eyes smiling at you. His face is pink to his ears, dark cropped hair framing his face. “I’m not upset.”

“It… seemed rude. I did-didn’t want you to know.” You explain, starting to shift away from him again.

He moves quickly, hand on the wall by your head, stopping you from moving away. His hat drops to the floor as he covers his face for a moment, letting out a soft sigh.

“I won’t force you,” he says, looking away for a moment. “But, I’d… like to help.” He looks at you. “If that’s okay.”

“H-help?” You’re almost certain you know what he’s referring to, but it almost seems impossible.

His gaze shifts down to your thighs and then back up to your eyes. You can feel the blood rush through your body. He was nice, always nice, but he was also a pirate. A hunter. A predator. A fighter. Right now you were a little less a crewmate and perhaps a little more of a target, in all honesty.

“You were so close you didn’t even hear me.” He says it evenly, leaning a little closer, eyes shifting from yours to your neck. “I like you too much to leave you hanging like that.”

Language failed you. You made a few confused sounds and could feel Penguin trying not to laugh. He gave you a moment before nuzzling against your cheek a little.

“Let me kiss you,” he says softly, brushing his hand through your hair. “Please.”

You nod, but before you can move your arms Penguin holds them in place. “It’s okay.” He assures you, pressing in closer. “Keep doing what you were doing before.”

“I-I-um, that’s -.” You stammer almost uncontrollably. This was a little like launching yourself into the deep end of the pool, and you weren’t against it, but maybe not quite ready for it.

“Your uniform’s closed, it’s okay.” His lips are a breath away from yours. “I can’t see anything, don’t be embarrassed.”

“That’s not how that works,” you nearly whimper the words, fingers already moving against your clit again. You know he knows what you're doing, since your arms are flexing under his hold on them.

“Good girl,” he purrs and you nearly cum on the spot. The desperate cry that escapes you is devoured by Penguin’s lips quickly. The heavy kiss pushes into you as he presses himself against you a little. You’re trapped between him and the wall, with enough room to continue pleasuring yourself, and little else.

His breath is hot and heavy against your skin as he pulls the top of your boiler suit open just enough to kiss along your neck and shoulders after your initial moans settle down. A gloved hand goes over your mouth as he leaves bruising kisses against your skin. Pleasure echoes against your ribs as your body starts to tremble.

Penguin braces himself against you, holding you up against the wall as your orgasm crashes into your body. His name slips from your mouth, breaking against his glove and replaced by a loud moan as he leaves a harsh hickey on your neck.

He licks your skin as you come down from your high, almost breathing as heavy as you are.

“I could listen to those sounds for hours.” He says, voice quiet and breathy. He tugs on the zipper of your boiler suit, clicking it down slowly, almost tooth by tooth.

“Everyone’s gone ashore.” Click, click, click.

“I was coming down to tell you,” click. “That I drew the short straw,” click, click. “And you could leave, but…” Click.

Click. “No one else is here to hear you.”

Click.