#oh he's in fine form lads

[larsnicklas]

playoff pete mode engaged!

[canisalbus]

uh hi hello!! first i wanted to say i am deeply in love with your art (god those shapes, these lines, texture, anatomy, expression, EVERYTHING) and your latest drawing just moved something in me i cant quite grasp it, been thinking about it for a couple days. sooo i felt inspired and made myself a smol little machete out of uh wild clay so i could kiss him on the forehead before going to sleep, i hope you're ok with that? (also sorry he's kinda wonky, me and acrylics hate each other haha)

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[sysig]

The most fun you can have, barring the pain and torture (Patreon)

[yestrday]

― YANDERE! GENSHIN ACADEMY AU. pt one | two | three | four | five

⇢ alhaitham, kaveh, tighnari, cyno + ayato, baizhu, mika / gn! reader

introducing! from sumeru hails teyvat's brightest minds, and it's no surprise that many of the academu's smartest are true-blood sumerians. a lesser known fact is that these are less skilled in the workings of the heart, and therefore, a bit more unstable than the average lad.

warning! yandere, obsessive & possessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, master-pet dynamics, mentions of bullying, physical wounds

— STOIC ACADEMIC TYPE. alhaitham | الهيثم

[ “if you’re looking to get my help, i’d rather you just outright say it than dilly-dallying around.” ]

⇢ one of the geniuses in your second year, haitham is a no-nonsense type of guy that has that air of arrogance around him. he’s quite hard to approach, and he doesn’t care to socialize with any of your circles. he has, however, taken a liking to you, and will usually just drag you around whenever he feels like it.

⇢ expect forced study sessions with him in the library. he’s very keen on making sure your grades are in tip-top shape, even though you never asked him for help. it’s obvious that he takes a bit of sadistic pleasure when you ask him for his help. when you ask him on how to solve a problem, he stops whatever he’s reading and scrutinizes you with those stoic eyes, before a small and smug grin forms on his face. sometimes you’re not sure if he truly wants to help you or he just likes to hear you plead and beg.

⇢ kinda likes to see you screw up as well. seeing you excel (because he helped you, after all) is all nice and good, but he likes to see you fumble it every once in a while. sometimes you get a bit arrogant, refusing his help and insisting that you can do it by yourself, only for it to backfire in your face. when you run back to him with your begging and pleading, he puts on a show of being nonchalant about it. didn’t you say you were fine? so why bother him now, and especially in the middle of a good book?

⇢doesn’t hide the fact that he sort of treats you like a pet, with the way he drags you to and fro. his blunt everyday tone makes everyone feel like he’s looking down at them, but even more so with the way he talks to you. stay, he says when you start approaching him. sit, he tells you. whether you follow or not is up to you, and while he does love having an obedient pet, there is some fun to be found in keeping a bratty one.

⇢likes to see you rely on him. is it out of genuine care or because he sees you as a complete fool who can’t do anything on their own, time will tell, but he’s strangely insistent about you depending on him. he doesn’t make it very obvious, especially when he acts like he could give two shits about anything, but when you mention having troubles, he says things like “that is what you’re having trouble with?” without offering his help, you usually start nagging him for the answer.

⇢haitham isn’t one for praise but… he does get a kick off you praising him. not because he’s starved for it (he’s had heaps of that ever since he showed his academic prowess) but because it felt just right. he does help you a lot, doesn’t he? taking the time out of his busy day to help you with whatever silly thing you need. the least you could do is thank him for it.

[ “honestly, you ought to be more grateful with how much i’m always helping you.” ]

– PASSIONATE TYPE. kaveh | کاوه

[ “oh yeah, uh, i guess i did win that! do… do you like it?” ]

⇢ your senior kaveh who’s been all over you ever since your first year. he’s a bit clingy with his touches, holding onto your arm while you walk and greeting you with hugs ever since the two of you got close. whenever the two of you see each other in the hallways, he immediately latches onto you and doesn’t let go. will drag you around while chatting your ear off.

⇢ often starts to show off when you’re around. he tries to be really nonchalant about it too, like casually trying to slip in his accomplishment in the middle of a conversation to make it seem like he’s not trying too hard. when you smile and compliment him, he starts to stutter and blush, losing the cool composure he tried to maintain just moments ago. the others tease him for being a senior who wants to impress his junior and he quickly denies it (“they’re just saying what they want!” he’d huff to you), but you can’t deny the red blush and the pleased smile on his face.

⇢ always trying to help other people out, even if he’s too busy. while he’ll drop everything he’s doing when you ask him a favor, he also doesn’t have the heart to say no to others. some days, he gets a bit disheveled by dismissal after helping out so many people at once. when he starts whining to you and he becomes even clingier, be understanding and let him. he’s had a rough day, after all.

⇢ everyone knows the shenanigans that occur around you in school and kaveh is no exception. so he’s made a bit paranoid every day, wondering when of your crazed suitors will snap and just kidnap you. he could just do it himself and not worry about being separated from you, but he thinks he’s above such things (true, but only without the proper motivation). to compensate for this, he spends every second with you like it’s his last.

⇢ did you just hold his hand?!? that must mean something, right?! he conveniently forgets that you’ve held hands with numerous other people in this academy, but you can’t blame the poor dude, he’s the type to overthink stuff like that. he’s gone over seemingly normal moments between you two countless times in his head, wondering if any of that meant something. at the back of his head, he knows he’s overreacting. but then he remembers when you gave him some papers and your fingers lingered for some seconds then he starts squealing in his pillow, absolutely deluded by his fantasies.

⇢ he’s not the jealous type…! really! he knows how kind and sweet you are. he knows that the praises you have for him are genuine and the way you look at him in admiration is all real. you’re not the type to fake those after all…! even so… even so, you continue to look at others with that same look, and praise them with the same praise. it’s not that they don’t deserve it but… is he not just good enough? to have your praises reserved for only him… was he just not worthy of that?!

[ “did i… did i do something wrong…? please, just talk to me, look at me!” ]

— SASSY TYPE. tighnari | الطغنري

[ “those idiots… honestly, they could at least treat you with a little more care!” ]

⇢ straightforward and no-nonsense, tighnari is well-respected among his peers for being an academic with an honest personality. especially in a school where anything can just tip anyone off, tighnari does not care about who he has to offend to make them back off. as such, many suitors can’t just do their trickery to you whenever he’s watching, lest he call them out on the spot.

⇢ he’s very concerned about your wellbeing. he’s often warning you about the dangers of the men you surround yourself with. whether you believe him or not is up to you, but that won’t stop him from trying to prevent anything from happening to you. obviously, he can’t just say that someone’s killed someone— he doesn’t want to ruin your life like that— but he’s often cryptic, hoping that you’ll figure it out for yourself.

⇢ very naggy, though he nags like a disappointed mother rather than a caring one. you and cyno are often at the end of these rants when you two do something stupid (either together or as individuals), but it’s a sign that tighnari truly cares about you. he could care less whether haitham cut himself on one of his books, but when you do he’s immediately all over you and berating you for being stupid and careless.

⇢ becomes too smug whenever you show a preference for him. he loves feeling when you choose him over anyone else and the suitors stew in their anger when he shoots them a haughty grin. cyno often has to remind him that he’s being too much, but he knows how much tighnari delights in defeating the other harem members without even having to do anything. you chose him out of your own free will, and that says a lot more than having you forced to pick him.

⇢ being raised on botany and all its properties, tighnari’s almost an expert in all things plants and that includes their… chemistry. it’s no surprise that he’s one of the suitors who are capable of concocting their little mixtures. when using it on other competitors, he’s not one to dirty his hands. he often has cyno slipping a thing or two in their drinks (or in special cases, an overly desparate kaveh). but when it comes to tampering with your drink? well, he reserves that special privilege for himself, all for the pleasure of watching the chemicals slowly affect you.

⇢ a smart guy, who knows that the way to your heart is not intimidating you into it but instead playing the nice and concerned friend. poor you, always being chased around by these unstable men. why have them who will only hurt you, when you can come to him, someone that you can trust? even if your vision is slipping away, your body becomes heavy… you can trust him, no matter what~

[ “feeling sleepy already? dear me, your body is really fragile… and cute ♪” ]

— GUARD DOG TYPE. cyno | κύων 

[ “if they’re bothering you again, talk to me. i’ll be the one to handle it.” ]

⇢ serious cyno who amuses you with his corny jokes delivered with a stoic expression. despite looking so mature, being with cyno often gets you two into trouble that he didn’t foresee. it has something to do with that intimidating expression and the way he’s ready to fight anyone who nears him. people mistake him for challenging them to a fight, and more often than not you’re left watching cyno beat down opponents in self-defense.

⇢ when people aren’t busy trying to fight him, cyno’s always seen patrolling the campus halls as head of the security committee. you can tell who’s been caught by him before by the way they flinch and avoid his piercing gaze. even many of his admirers are a bit terrified of him, and all they can do is just watch him walk over to you and whisper in your ear. they think you’re in trouble, but in reality, he’s telling you to meet him at the same meeting spot because he wants to show you this rare genius invocation card he just bought.

⇢ no one in his friend group takes him seriously anymore, not when he’s busy challenging all of them to a tcg fight every get-together. they tend to get roped up into his antics, and you can see how boys really will just be boys as the four of them begin to one-up each other into petty competitions. and cyno’s always been the most competitive out of them.

⇢ cyno seems to have a habit of suddenly showing up moments before one of your suitors plans to do something. they might start to sneak into your lockers to steal something when they see cyno leaning casually against the wall with a knowing glint in his eye. or when one of them spikes your drink and cyno unhesitatingly takes your glass and dump it on the floor, without breaking eye contact with the suspect. the guard dog that you don’t know about.

⇢ part of the protective stalker group within your suitors who make sure to follow you from the shadows whenever he has free time. these stalkers are often chill with each other, nodding at each other in acknowledgment whenever they bump into each other in one of their stalking escapades. he keeps a close eye on you at all times, with your security purely his concern and nothing else.

⇢ indifferent to getting his hands bloody. he’s not unreasonable— he knows that he can’t kill someone just because he’s jealous or something like that. he can’t risk doing something that will have an impact on you. but justice has to be served, and when he sees someone hurt you or become a threat to your safety… he just can’t help it. whether it’s mixing nari’s poison or simply giving them a cold, swift death, everything he does is because he loves you so.

[ “hush, there’s nothing to cry about. they’re gone, no one will hurt you. i have served you justice.” ]

— SCHEMING TYPE. kamisato ayato | 神里綾人

[ “oho? it pains me that you’re so wary of me, even after all these years!” ]

⇢ senior ayato who always has that gentle but calculating mask on, socializing with many people but never close to any of them. when people start realizing that you might have caught his interest, they have warned you about him and whatever shady motives he might harbor. but whenever he approached you, he was so kind and generous with his offerings… not that you were fooled.

⇢ he’s always showering you with gifts whenever you’re together like he’s trying to flex his wealth. bump into him at the mall? he tells you to walk with him for a bit, but you leave with a luxury item you eyed for a few seconds. bundles you up in his scarf when you’re feeling chilly, however when you try to return it to him on the next day he just tells you to keep it so casually like the fabric doesn’t cost you your life savings.

⇢ when class isn’t keeping them both apart, thoma is always seen attending to ayato’s side. it’s not a secret that thoma can go to school because the kamisatos are funding his education, so no one really questions it. they do get a little bit suspicious whenever the two seem a little… intimate, but in the end, who really cares?

⇢ you should really heed others’ warnings about ayato, because it’s clear that he’s a dangerous fellow. he seems to know everything about everyone. once, he had threatened your bullies off with a thinly veiled threat regarding their shady pasts. you don’t know how he got hold of such rare information, but it seems that he’s one of the many people at this school with an information network under their fingertips.

⇢ while he does view you with adoration, it’s clear with how he talks to you that he doesn’t view you as his equal. with the way he talks you down sometimes like he’s talking to a pet rather than a fellow student, you sometimes feel a bit… demeaned. but when ayato tucks your hair behind your ear so tenderly, you have to second-guess your apprehensions.

⇢ the difference between you two is clear. he is the elite of the elite and you are… you. and he takes advantage of this without guilt. it starts as off remarks, about how you wouldn’t survive a day in their society, then it transforms into something bigger. before you know it, he’s criticizing your clothes, your posture, your personality… anything to nail in the fact that you. are. different. till you lose your pride and self-worth. till ayato makes sure that you won’t have the willpower to fight back once he begins his schemes.

[ “but i’m not lying, am i? you are different, and we can’t really do anything about that, can we?” ]

— SUSPICIOUS TYPE. baizhu | 白术

[ “another trip to the nurse, i see… if i didn’t know better, i would think you were here to see me.” ]

⇢ senior baizhu is head of the health committee and is often seen helping out at the nurse’s. his kind and gentle nature makes the sterile place feel a lot more comforting and he attends to each patient without complaint. but when you come over, the nurse remarks how baizhu seems a bit more stressed whenever he frets over you. you’re not quite sure… after all, baizhu has always been so caring towards you and everyone else.

⇢ he’s sickly himself, so sometimes he has to rely on others for help. he does seem to ask you for help more so than the others, but you really shouldn’t mind. after all, he’s done so much for you! he’s prone to fainting, thankfully not that severe, but you have to catch him in your arms before he hits the floor. the way he thanks you and softly utters your name has you almost dropping him, and you swear there’s a cheeky grin on his face that’s gone a second after.

⇢ although his reputation is generally favorable, there are whispers that he and his family are involved in shady medical research. baizhu, when asked about these, will always only laugh and shake his head. ‘let them say what they want to say’, he would tell them. ‘what matters is that i’m capable of tending to them when they come to me for help.’ such thoughtful words often erase whatever doubts they have about baizhu and even make them guilty for even falsely accusing him.

⇢ but they’re right, though. they are a big pharmaceutical company, and every massive corporation has its shadows. a solo research that he’s been working on is in the area of immortality. in recent years, he’s been working on it with much more fervor now that he’s met you. back then, his goal for immortality was always directionless, only researching for the sake of curiosity. but now he has a clear goal: to spend eternity with you and for you.

⇢ he’s an expert businessman and your harem members are well aware of that. among them, he’s known to make many shady deals, especially since he’s so knowledgeable in… drugs. he makes a lot of profit from this, but another clear advantage is his time with you. though these rich students could just buy their drugs literally anywhere, no one quite provides the safety of not being caught like baizhu.

⇢ … might make those deals because more often than not, they end up with you in the nurse’s office. whether bruised from the bullying of another suitor or disoriented from some sort of poison, you rush to the nurse before things get worse for you. you’re so smart, he’d praise you as he tends to the wounds. there is a pleasure in bandaging you up, knowing full well that he could easily dig his nails into the cuts and leave you more in need of his help.

— ANXIOUS TYPE. mika schmidt 

[ “they’re very cool but i… maybe i shouldn’t get too close…” ]

⇢ lil bro gets pushed around by the meaner people in his year and he doesn’t even question it. it’s just very easy to take advantage of him, with his eager-to-please personality and his notable ability to do almost anything exceptionally well. it takes him being adopted into the first-year harem group before the bullying dies down (mainly because most of the people there are well-known and powerful). he doesn’t quite understand how they could bond over a person (you) and was originally quite frightened at their almost fanatic worship of you.

⇢ no one would think he’s part of your harem, not with the way he desperately tries to avoid you. in fact, you could count the times you’ve talked to him on two hands. on all times he was a blushing and stuttering mess to the point that he was incoherent. xingqiu seemed to take a kick out of his embarrassment, while aether softly coaxed him into forming a full sentence in front of you. what stuck with you was how he refused to shake your hand, to which xingqiu bowled over laughing. 

⇢ when he got a little bit more comfortable with you, he was still shy albeit not much to the point that he wasn’t willing to offer you help. you’d often bump into each other while you’re on your errand, and he takes half the workload. most of the time, the two of you work in silence, with mika taking frequent glances at you. when you’re done, he says a meek ‘goodbye!’ and sprints off.

⇢ stalks you around school like a little creep, but thankfully not to the point where he follows you home. he’d peek from around a corner, watching you in the distance with wide eyes in admiration. you’re always so hardworking and excellent… it’s no wonder you have so many admirers! he was almost caught by you a few times, but thankfully you’re none the wiser. his stalking is painfully obvious to the other harem members, but they think him harmless enough that they don’t pay him any mind.

⇢ things that you need the most are always miraculously appearing in your bag, locker, table, etc. when you had complained to thoma about not bringing your lunch, later that day you’d open your locker to find a freshly made lunchbox. when you grumble to yourself about running out of correction tape, a pack with the plastic still on appears on your table. you’re perplexed, albeit grateful. after all, this isn’t the first time some creepy shit has happened to you.

⇢ he really really wishes he’d work up the courage to talk to you face to face without having to be so nervous… but he can’t help the jitters whenever you’re just in front of him! your voice has his ears ringing, your scent has him dizzy, and you’re just so, so cool that he feels so small compared to you! how could he ever talk to you like this…! maybe in the future, when mika would be more capable and dependable…

[ “a–aah… how could i talk to them! they’re too…!” ]

[janumun]

A Bond Everlasting (LaDS Rafayel - NSFW)

Rated: NSFW/18+ Pairing: Rafayel/Reader Words: ~17k

Tags: soulmate AU (the red string of fate, with a twist), college setting (and they were roommates), angst with a happy ending, mutual pining, minor violence and action, scent kink, blow job, oral and vaginal sex, facial, multiple orgasms, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, merman knotting, sexual rut/Lemurian sexual cycle

Summary: Rafayel tries — and miserably fails —  to forget the one his red thread weaved against once upon a time, even a decade after its break. Finding her, once more, years later, and residing within the same place as her doesn’t help his cause. 

A/N: A happy very belated birthday gift to you, @chibamari. With all of my love and all of our favorite heartbreak, I hope you enjoy this, darling friend.

I. EBB 

The red string of fate. Rafayel found he truly loathed the concept.  

What was it, truly, if not just the Fates contemptuous scorn upon them?  

Forcing kinship and eternity in between a pair that did not mould against the other. That would, if time given, drift apart as mere bottled wishes left traversing, lonely, across the seas.  

And yet, the manacles remain celebrated, since time immemorial. As legends of the rare, and lucky few, destined to be bonded in harmony.  

Rafayel used to be — once upon a time — part of the same foolery brigade as the rest of them, the day his red thread spun and found itself interweaved against his first, and last, love. To her, he promised a Lemurian’s vow of faithful eternity. 

Until the day that blood-red thread quivered and ruptured apart, weakened by her absence.  

Leaving to Rafayel only the hollow remains of a heart rejected. The brand of its mockery left behind as indelible remains of the severed — useless — string wound against his finger.  

II. FLOW 

Deft, practiced digits streak a brush across canvas; the truculent quality to his paint lines reflecting the agitated knot of Rafayel’s brow and the hand he scrubs through his hair in chagrin at constant-wheeling thoughts. Bold strokes; an amalgamation of bright colors — gentle turquoise and oceanic azure — setting into paper to shape unconscious form to his muse, for his current class.  

It is only when he hears the ripple of applauding gasps behind — “You’re amazing, Senior Rafayel!” — is he knocked back into his senses, angling a stupefied gaze up at what he’s made of his project: originally an interpretation of the depths of the sea, the topic he’d presented his class for the day.  

He notes, in no small proportion of growing aversion, the strokes of his brush having shaped form of a delicate back — hers — against the backdrop of a vast sea, reminiscent of home. His thoughts — he muses in self-derision — having lent unconscious connection in between his place of most comfort to the person who stood as his entire comfort. 

Rafayel’s head throbs with heat, as if knelling the oncoming of a particularly harsh fever. Perhaps his less than perfect health was to blame for his momentary lapse of concentration.  

“Is the lady underwater inspired by anyone in particular, Senior? Your brushwork for her seems particularly passionate.” 

Rafayel’s mouth twitches into an insouciant, cool smile, he directs at his students. “Hmm I’m not sure. Perhaps, she’s inspired by that one mermaid movie they’re currently playing in theatres.”  

“Oh, ‘Aquatic’? I’ve seen it!” 

“Me too! It's really good.”  

“The part where she turns to sea foam—” 

A seamless lie; he lets it steer the focus of conversation away from him and his lapse in concentration. Turning back towards the board to proceed with his lecture.  

Opting to teach a fine arts course to a bunch of junior year students, for extra annual credit, was clearly shaping to be one of the worst decisions he’d ever made.  

Especially so, when the subject in question, he’d offered to teach for, in the first place, remained starkly absent throughout the duration of the lecture.  

III. EBB 

Shouldering open the door to their shared apartment, Rafayel steps inside, staggering under the weight of his stack of the newest arrival of deliveries. The apartment is silent, devoid of the sound of her characteristic pattering footsteps.  

Depositing his packages down against the side of the sofa in the living room, he collapses back into the cushions, tuning a distasteful frown towards the empty kitchen counter. Recounting to mind, the events of this morning, having shepherded him into an entire day of distraction at the University.  

“Ouch.” She hissed, a sound of surprise, wrenching her arm back from the sizzling frying pain at the spits of oil it spewed.  

Rafayel released an exaggerated sigh at the sight, ambling over towards the kitchen. “Let me help.”  

“You know, I’m perfectly capable of fixing breakfast on my own.” She attempted heroic reassurance, even as she easily treaded backwards to let Rafayel replace her at the stove.  

“Yes, yes, I believe you. I'd still like to ensure you don’t burn our apartment to the ground while I’m away at work. My paintings are priceless treasures, you know.” He deftly takes the eggs off the stove and plates them before shoving her share at her. “There you go, Miss All-Capable.” 

“Stop making fun of me.” She smiles in relieved gratitude, moving to set cutlery across the table. “And thank you.” 

Rafayel swivels a puffed smile her way. “Whatever would you do without me?”  

She shakes her head at him, attempting no effort to refute him. “Indeed.” Her fingers brush against his as she moves to pass him his share.  

“Rafayel.” She sweeps a sudden grab at his hand, digits entwining in between his. “You’re a bit warmer than usual. Are you feeling sick?” She smooths a gentle hand across his forehead.  

He feels his face burn darker at the sudden intimacy of their contact. “No, I don’t.” Instinctively jostling away from her touch. “I’m just tired, is all. I was up the entire night, after all.”  

“You really need to fix that terrible habit of yours. A healthy body leads to a healthy mind!” Rafayel can’t tamp back the grin from his face at her chiding. 

“Take better care of yourself. I can’t be here to keep you in check round the clock, you know.” She sighs in resignation.  

“Yes, yes, my noisy Mistress.”  

“Speaking of which,” She begins, just as Rafayel seats himself at the table. "I'll be out late tonight.” 

Rafayel feels his smile frost over; a dreaded, sour feeling immediately spurning at the base of his belly.  

“I have a study date with Caleb.” She does not meet his gaze, forking at her egg.  

Rafayel hears himself speak before he can tuck back his impulsive thoughts. “You sure you should be trusting the man this much? I don’t—” 

“’Like him.’ I know. I don’t know why you’re so biased against him, he’s a good person.”  

The praise dredges bitterness across his tongue; ashy and tepid. His fork nearly stabs at his own food, a disapproving moue he knows is dark upon his face. “Sure,” he intones at last, grappling against his desire to ask her not to go, to spend her day with him instead. “Have fun.” An unfair burden he knows he throws onto her shoulders; he does not possess the right to dictate who she chooses to associate with.  

And yet— 

Rafayel’s gaze deliberately treks the line of red thread adorning his ring finger — treacherously cut off a few centimetres in and dissipating into nothingness. Following the absent line of it; her own finger sits vacant against the wooden table-top. An immeasurable dejection he isn’t able to shuck off, no matter how many times his eyes have witnessed its emptiness.  

Perhaps she is right and he is sick, an inscrutable tremor setting into his fingers as they continue on with the rest of their meal in silence.  

IV. FLOW 

The oncoming dawn encroaches a gradual shell-pink spill of color across the velvet skies as Rafayel’s feverish gaze drags, listless, to the view past the patio windows, the bone-deep ache from the day past yet to recede.  

The angry scrapes of charcoal rushed across paper, forgotten as the unfinished sketch drifts purposeless down onto the floor to join the rest of its discarded predecessors.   

She has yet to return home — Rafayel had stayed up the entire night and remained planted, firm, within their lounge, to make sure he would be there to greet her on her return. She'd never been away from their apartment overnight.  

Rafayel knows because he had — on more occasions than he could count and didn’t wish to acknowledge — found himself crumpled within cool sheets, self-confined to the privacy of his room, listening in to the comforting sounds of her padded, soft movements around their apartment.  

She'd often slip back through their door, close to midnight — she made it a point, always, to return home, no matter the hour — after slaving away hours at the library for her Hunter exam. She'd try for quietude; he knew, so she wouldn’t disturb his absent sleep.  

A gentle clink of mugs at the kitchen counter as she’d make herself a cup of a coffee in preparation of burning the midnight oil.  

Despite having the physical structure of their apartment — a shelter and comfort in name — his room’s four-walled sanctity, it didn’t truly feel warm as a home until the moment she stepped past the threshold and into their shared space.  

And only when he’d hear the soft crinkle of pages turning steadily as she’d settle herself onto the living room sofa to study, would he find himself beckoned into slumber. As if she too, knew on instinct, how her presence aimed to soothe, choosing to make space for her studies right where he could hear her, in the lounge, instead of the confines of her own room. 

Yet now.  

Midnight had come and gone, dawn scraping indigo for approaching light, and no signs of her return.  

A long day behind him endured in feverish unrest and the toll of another sleepless night, doesn’t help disentangle burgeoning thoughts of her within the embrace of another man at that very moment, one not him. He can’t help but sorely curse himself for his ill-thought decision of staying the night up, waiting for her like some sorry love-struck fool.  

Not that he would’ve been able to sleep, either way; a part of him mocked in muted whispers.  

His thread throbs; a nipping bite of rejection and along with it, his body. Languid gaze absently trekking the severed thread, flickering incandescent against his ring finger. The constricting heat of it, as if traversing up his veins along with the fever within his body. Colluding against his heart, as if it wishes to eventually wither him up instead. A slow, bittersweet poison.  

Rafayel feels nauseous.  

He’s beginning to contemplate on retiring for the meagre, precious hours before his upcoming classes for the day — perhaps that bitterly strong liquor she’d stowed into the fridge earlier would help do the trick — just as the door lock clicks open.  

The sound violently startles Rafayel out of winding, unheeded thoughts enough, he springs off the sofa just as she steps foot over the threshold.  

Opening his mouth to put words to turbulent emotions — a million queries — before his questions wither off the tip of his tongue when he fixates a good, long look at her.   

She appears downright exhausted and an instinctual, foreboding spurts forth in him. The look on her careworn face, light-snuffed gaze meeting his — Rafayel thinks, mirrors the state of his own affairs — before it dissipates into stifled surprise. “Rafayel, what’re you doing up—”  

And before he can tamp himself back into composure, Rafayel’s striding the few paces it takes for him to reach her, dragging her into his embrace.  

She stiffens at the contact on instinctual reflex, it chips away at another piece of his heart. Tightens the strangulating hold of his severed thread against his soul.  

He hedges her tighter into his embrace, regardless. Head pitching down onto her shoulder; a hand he smooths down the line of her quivering back before she relaxes into him, at last.  

“Rafayel—” Arms twitching by her side and up as she circles him within her own comfort, returning his warmth in the cling of desperate digits against the back of his shirt.  

“You’re late. You're so late.” he gripes, half-hearted.  

A beat. Two passes. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”  

A peculiar relationship; she calls them friends — close — inappropriately so and he’d agreed to be one, to her, if it were the sole thing that allowed him to be by her side. For her to not abandon him once more. A relationship edging something far gnarled than friendship.  

He doesn’t believe even she has a name for what they share, in moments as these, where Rafayel forgets himself and the boundaries he holds himself to. Turns blind to pretenses and masks he fixates, so delicately crafted, for her benefit and the safety of his own heart. 

He is not, however, a man strong enough to ignore the strain of his beloved’s gaze, tiredness rimming her entire being, she feels so brittle in his arms, and it ruins him to not know the cause of it.  

“...Got something on your mind?” He murmurs into her hair. 

“Perhaps.” Her response is slow, halting.  

“Want to tell me what it is?” He breaks away from her, enough to let his eyes scour her face in stern scrutiny.  

A whispered laugh escapes her at his inspection.  

“...Rafayel, how do you feel about an early morning stroll with me?”  

V. EBB 

The shores of Whitesand Bay stretch empty within the wee hours of dawn, quiet, save for the twittering song of birds cutting across the sky and the gentle wash of waves at their bare feet as they amble along the sandy belt. She hasn’t uttered a word since, absent gaze trekking the gradual rise of the sun above the horizon, light flittering its diamonds across the lap of waves.  

The easy access to the sea — and by extension, the remarkable view — was one of the reasons they’d jointly agreed upon renting an apartment this close to Whitesand Bay, two years prior. On any other usual occasion, Rafayel’s fingers would’ve been upon pen and paper, soaking inspiration up and through rough strokes, sketching across paper.  

Now, however, his focus is all but entirely removed from his environment, vision honed in on her by his side.  

“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?” She murmurs, gaze still fixated upon the horizon. “I’m not an early riser like you are so I’ve never seen the sunrise here up this close.”  

She's skirting the issue, Rafayel has no mind to force her to spill her heart when she does not wish to. 

For her, he is willing to remain patient.  

Regardless of the consequences to his person.  

He joins in on her flimsy facade.  

“If only I wasn’t a little too aware of the fact.” Tapping a light fist against her temple, he angles a skewed smile down at her. “Despite my very arduous efforts to get you out of bed on multiple occasions, you’ve persisted in your terrible ways, Miss Hunter.” Heaving an exaggerated sigh. “You’re far too stubborn for your own good, I fear.” 

That gets her breaking a smile, the tensed knitted worry within her gaze easing just that tiny bit; Rafayel plucks it up for the small reward it is. “A classic case of the pot calling the kettle black. Like you’re any less bull-headed.” She defends. “Don’t make me recount all the times you nearly gave poor Thomas a heart attack because your paintings weren’t ready even mere hours before the exhibitions they were supposed to be featured in.”  

His mouth pulls into a distasteful moue at that. “Don’t tell me you’re on his side. He refuses to understand the world of difference it causes in between using cherry red or wine on a canvas. If it were up to that simpleton, he’d have me besmirch all my works, just for the sake of those trivial exhibitions.”  

She chuckles. “Now, no need to get so worked-up. You know Thomas cares for you and wishes to have your talent recognized like it deserves to be.” She moves to seat herself by the shore, close to where the waves lick up at the sand. Rafayel follows suit.  

“I know how much passion you pour into your paintings.” Crinkling a gentle smile up at him. “That’s exactly why I love your art so much.” 

Rafayel’s heart catches at his throat at the easy slip of her compliment.  

She's never been sparing with her appreciation of his artworks. 

Ever since she’d chanced upon them a few years back when they’d only shortly been re-united at the time.  

She’d always been generous and open with her admiration.  

His heart, however, wasn’t immune to its traitorous stuttering, every single time at her attentions and praise.  

Perhaps she discerns the look on his face, tapping into his emotions, or realizes the curious intimacy of her statement, she wrenches her gaze away from his. Rafayel swiftly feels the keen loss of it.  

Silence sweeps once more between them, her gaze having drifted back into the seas and with it, the steady droop of her shoulders as she curves in tighter against her huddled knees. “It was a place, similar to this one, where we first met. A lost little human meeting a young Lemurian washed ashore.” Her voice barely hikes above an octave. “I didn’t think Lemurians existed for real before that, and to know I shared a red fate with one...”  

His throat closes against a sharp inhale at her whisper, the first time she’s chosen to address their past severed bond, ever since their reunion.  

Why now. He means to ask. A question that dissipates off the tip of his tongue, un-uttered.  

“We were so young back then and I inadvertently hurt you. Ever since I moved away, and time just passed, regardless...” She pauses. “You must’ve really hated me for that, huh.” She angles a cautious smile at him. 

I did not. Rafayel means to refute and yet his tongue refuses to cooperate.  

She continues on, as if she had long perceived his answer and made peace with his supposed resentment of her, unperturbed by his lack of response. Her reaction vexes him.   

“I’ve hurt someone dear to me again. Caleb—” 

The familiar name spurns bitter within his chest. “Did he do something to you?” His fingers jam against coarse sand, snagging his thread tight against his ring finger. 

“No! No. Caleb’s a good man, he’s been nothing but kind to me.”  

Deep within the recesses of his heart, Rafayel knows it, he knows it only too well; he only wishes he could truly bring himself to hate him.  

“He...” Her fingers tense harsher against her arms. “Last night, he asked me to be his girlfriend.” 

His ring finger throbs; the missing line of its thread seeming to constrict against Rafayel’s neck.  

“I turned him down.” 

A quick, involuntary bite of wicked relief thrums at the back of his breastbone. And yet— 

Why do you look as if your heart is shattering into a million pieces? 

Rafayel’s mouth seems to form words on its own as if he wishes for his own demise. “Do you regret it?” 

Her silence is a dagger that digs pointed, deep in between his ribs, the longer she lets it steep.  

She meets his gaze, a turbulent question within hers, beseeching. “I don’t know… I don’t know if I should.” She looks as if she has more to speak, restive teeth biting into her lip to hold back unsaid thoughts.

Rafayel dares not parse the emotions he sees flittering within her eyes, dares not hope for what he cannot have. Not again, for his heart to fracture once more by setting up false narratives. He has loved and will love still for eternity — he doesn’t, however, have the tenacity to bear being abandoned again. 

And so, he shutters himself, gaze wrenching away from hers, a frown knitting tight against his brow. “Whatever it is that you want, if it makes you happy, I want you to grab onto it for yourself.” Fingers brushing against hers from where they rest within the sand, index and middle lingering longer against the base of her ring finger. Before he moves, carding hesitant digits through the fall of her hair.  

For it is the only way he knows how to love — regardless of broken vows — in her happiness, even if it would never be found by his side. 

VI. FLOW

The dream stirs vivid beneath restless lids — Rafayel hasn’t dreamt of that time of theirs together in so long, a welcome awareness of his mind’s conjuring, he embraces in that moment.   

Perhaps by-products of an exhausted, sick mind. 

Or yearning for an unfulfilled wish.  

A sweet sting of desire, just as the first time he remembers it. He lets himself drown deeper into the abyss of its calling. 

He’d cut a boring class during first semester at college — he could no longer remember the subject — in lieu of chasing the path of an ambitious sparrow within a secluded spot. Located far back along the grounds of the college and protected further underneath the dense foliage of the overgrown greenery as he’d sat perched upon a bench, motionless and silent.  

Save for the smooth rush of his pencil across his journal. Detailing the quest of the bird as it leapt across the grass towards a lazing cat, blissfully dodging the feline’s half-hearted attempt at pawing it away.  

Tranquility rippled only at a surprising intrusion; she’d walked into his private space — she always seemed to find him — and he’d startled at her presence.  

“Oh! Sorry. Rafayel, I thought I—” 

Their relationship on strained ice at the time — neither of them choosing to dig up unfulfilled childhood vows or the break of their fated thread. 

 A hastened apology she’d tripped over, for disturbing him before her eyes had flickered to the open journal in his lap and she’d breathed an awed sound. Called it beautiful — a slip of the tongue, he could tell, from her demeanor.  

They'd gotten back into conversation — albeit halting — after that.  

The moment, a pivotal one, in Rafayel allowing himself to accept her back into his life, both emotionally and physically. 

He recalls the citrus notes to her perfume as she’d tentatively seated herself by his side. The way her hair curled delicate against the curve of her cheek, beckoning Rafayel to dare a hand out and slip it back against her ear. 

The unconscious brush of soft digits against his as she’d moved to accept the proffered journal from him, when she’d asked for permission to view more of his artworks.  

The relief that had sunk into his marrow, body strung far too tight for so long — he felt each ache settle and ease, when she returned to his side. As if their bond still remained.  

As if it had never fractured in the first place. 

She moves to tug the curtains close, clipping back the last shafts of light from Rafayel’s room; his damp brow now decidedly relaxed in restless slumber, after being exposed to the heat of the sun for so long.  

He’s made a habit of drawing his windows open at night, perhaps to relieve the fevered pitch of his body off the cool breeze wafting of the sea. Restive sleeplessness; keeping him tossing until near close to dawn, when she often catches him falling, thankfully, into exhaustive sleep at the end of his long, disturbed nights.  

Rafayel had been out of sorts for nearly two weeks now; a distracted gaze and a listless stride his constant companions. Adamant and mulish in his response, at inquiring of his health, every time, that he was perfectly alright and merely plagued by the weariness of sleepless nights spent on his paintings.  

Barely a day or two into that ridiculous spectacle of his before her patience with him had expired and she’d hauled him off to his room and strong-armed him into bed.  

A rueful smile tugs at her mouth at the recollection of their silly argument then.  

“Hey, ow. Easy, you’ll break me! Aaah... too late. I think I’ve already dislocated my wrist. My life as a painter is done for. Ow.”   

“Rafayel. Shut up unless you want me to gag you as well.”  Forcing the covers over his body; she glowered at him for obedience while she hastened to take his temperature.  

Rafayel’s mouth soured deeper in distaste the longer she fretted over him. Opening his mouth, surely to protest, before she cut him off. “You’re running a low-grade fever.” 

Pressing a gentle hand over his forehead, “Please, rest now.” 

A knot twisted in between Rafayel’s brow at her plea. Threading his fingers against hers. “Alright, alright I will,” he murmured, a gentle thumb he smoothed against her furrowed brow. “So, stop making that face now.”  

His agitation at his prolonged ill-health, however, had manifested in numerous half-finished drafts and rough sketches, he’d filled sheets upon sheets of paper with, littered upon his bed.  

The subject matter of most, inexplicably similar in features; a fact that surprised her, for Rafayel had always been one for continual exploration of a wide variety of subjects in his artworks, rather than one stationary objective.  

She reaches for one such sketch now, discarded by his bedside. Predictably, it is the same subject her eyes have grown accustomed to: the graceful arch of a person’s — a woman’s — back, the cascade of her hair shrouding her gaze from view. It is ethereal, haunting. Lonely.  

And. 

She exhales an unsteady breath. Although a mere unpolished sketch, she feels Rafayel’s longing in the hastened strokes of charcoal across her visage.  An inscrutable sprout of emotion twinges at her chest each time she looks upon this faceless woman, a desire to tear her gaze away from the care put into the strokes and never look at them again and yet, it’s as if her hands are not her own, each time they sift through his sketches to reveal a new one made. She despises it, and the feeling of her selfish loathing itself. Not when she bears reason nor right to feel the way she does.  

The ring finger of her right hand throbs, an echo of her turbulent emotions manifesting in the faint red restraint flickering against the base of her digit before it winks once more out of existence. 

No.  

Her gaze instinctually jumps to Rafayel, his prone form still deep in sleep.  

She'd nearly forgotten the other reason for her undue distress these past couple of days; worry for Rafayel occupying each of her thoughts, leaving little space for much else.

She sinks, weak-kneed, onto the bed, right next to Rafayel. Carding her fingers through the soft brush of his hair, gently thumbing a line down his temple.  

She’d thought her mind was conjuring illusive tricks the first few times she’d caught that fleeting flicker of red across her finger. 

Impossible, for it had been nearly twelve years since she’d lost her bond after being forced away from Rafayel. And then, her eyes had insistently tried tracing the line of it, every time it shimmered against her finger, hoping that it would perhaps.... 

Just maybe, if a miracle were to occur— 

That it would re-connect. Back to the only person she’d ever loved. Back to him, her beautiful Lemurian. That perhaps, he’d grant her another chance. That perhaps there was a sliver of hope that Rafayel would love her back once more.  

Once more. 

 Her yearning dashed in the brutality of a truth, far too incomprehensible to her mind. 

On the day her grandmother caught sight of her glimmering thread before she’d informed her with much joy; a red thread of fate, if once severed, made an appearance once more, within the lifetime of rare, chosen… fortunate individuals. If Fate ever ordained for the individuals to find new love once more. Another love so great, it changed Fate’s threads and course itself.  

“You’re blessed, my darling girl. Most people are happy enough if they get to enjoy even one fated love throughout their lives. But you've found two in your lifetime. It is a joyous thing, my love, do not be sad. Do not weep.” 

“...Perhaps, it is time you let him — let your past go.”  

Like ice curdling within her veins. As if Fate itself were playing upon her a cruel jest. She could never. How could she ever? 

And then, her denials had crumbled entirely, shortly after that dreaded truth.  

Her oldest friend, her sole pillar when she’d lost Rafayel. The person who’d held her close and kept her heart safe—  

When she’d lie in bed all day during her earliest days, screaming from the deluging fever of her bond withering. 

—It was the day her childhood friend, her Caleb confessed.  

Even without the evidence of a corporeal bond connecting them, that had been her last straw.  

She presses her lips against Rafayel’s cheek, overwhelming emotions threatening to surge, unable to resist or hold herself in control. “I could never.” she vows under her breath, fingers stroking down the line of his cheek. “Even if you have let go of me, Rafayel, I’m—” 

She feels the roughened pads of his digits against where she touches his face, perturbed at the sudden movement. His eyes flitter, restless, beneath his lids, grasp tightening upon her wrist. “My beloved bride.”

She tries and yanks herself away from his touch, startled at his unconscious murmuring. Rafayel does not let go, nudging his cheek against the crook of her captured palm.  

“Rafayel.” She urges, her heart stuttering over its beats. “Rafayel, please wake up.”  

At long last, he listens; that beautiful, florid gaze misted with the callings of sleep still, as it focuses on her. He makes an indiscrete sound. “Is it morning already? Agh, my head hurts.” He continues to nuzzle his face against her palm.  

“R-Rafayel! Hey!” She winces, hand unbearably hot within his hold. “Let go of me now. If you’re up, have some breakfast instead. You need the energy, dummy.” 

“Don’t want to let you go. Pamper me more.” And yet, he refuses to heed her lukewarm pleas, extremely wilful in his post-sleep, feverish daze.�� 

She huffs out a breathless laugh, her apprehension ebbing, gentle, into silence the longer she feels his warmth against her.  

Maybe she is allowed to indulge just a bit longer.  

 VII. EBB 

An errant thread and an inexplicable long spell of heat, as if trudging up a steep path, burgeoning fast towards an inevitable destination he could not quite clutch at. Unsolicited suspicions, as to the true nature of his predicament, incessantly rapping at his thoughts.  

Rafayel feels that dour twist to his brow; darkening his features at the wheeling course of his mind. 

 She’s caught him in similar moods since his “illness” commenced, more times than he can count. The endless time afforded his way, involuntarily threading his thoughts to places he doesn’t wish to visit. He doesn’t wish, ever, to alarm or upset her, setting to ease her thoughts the moment worry mars her features, testing index and middle against the sharp knot at her forehead before his attentions — and hers — are compelled entirely her way.  

That is also something that has shifted in between them, into something entirely different. He’s been unusually attuned to her for the duration of his peculiar period of ill-health.  

She has always been his primary muse, the focal point where all of Rafayel’s tangled thoughts find eventual and inevitable convergence. However, somehow, all of those sensibilities have turned sharper, impossibly aware of... her.  

Unconsciously turning to placations the moment he comprehends her distress. Choosing to bury, in turn; soothe the heat of his body within the scent of hers. Her hands on him when she fusses to take his temperature, her clothes, he takes a surreptitious, lungful breath of, when she moves close to towel the fevered sweat off his body. Truly, he does not understand what is wrong with him.  

Two weeks in now and his need for answers has driven him to near madness. He’s loathe to admit he must consult one, perhaps, more knowledgeable on the subject than he.  

He paces into the lounge, heavy in thought, fingers worrying at the phone in hand. 

“Oh, you’re up. Are you feeling any better?”  Just as she calls over to him from the kitchen counter.  

“Of course,” he fibs, tucking the phone back into the pocket of his trousers. He ambles over to her, dressed neat in her trainee uniform as she works a paring knife around an apple. “What’re you doing?”  

“You should have something healthy to eat while I’m away.”  

“Ah.” He plucks a piece of fruit off the plate next to her, eyeing the peculiar shape. “So, you decided to cut me some apple bunnies.”  The corners of his mouth drag into a skewed grin. “I am not a child, cutie.”  

She makes an inflated motion of surprise, pressing a hand against her chest. “Really?”  

And when he rolls his eyes at her, “Of course you aren’t,” she grins. “I’ve never met any children as stubborn as you.”  

“Cheeky.” He flicks a gentle hand against her forehead.  

His eyes skim towards the wall clock and back towards her neatly pressed outfit. “You have an on-field Hunter’s exam this afternoon, don’t you? You’ll be late if you dawdle any longer. Besides, I can feed myself just fine.”  

She startles a bit as her eyes, too, take note of the hour. Hastily shoving the plate of her fresh cut fruit into his hands. “Alright, I’ll leave. You better eat, then rest up. Don’t exert yourself, alright?”  

She steps past the counter. “Come, Kiki.” A white dutiful ball of fur capers up to her as soon as she calls. Rafayel hedges further against the counter just as the white ball tumbles into her waiting arms.  

“There, what a good girl you are!” She croons over the cat, petting at that little fiend pet of her friend’s. She rises to her feet. 

“I’ll drop her off at Tara’s before heading to the centre.”  

“Good riddance,” Rafayel mutters, blenching just as she moves closer with the cat still in her arms.  

“Rude, I’m sad to see her go so soon.” She pulls a glum face at him.  “Do you want to pet her goodbye before she leaves and you start missing her?”  

“I won’t,” He dissents, even as he braves the tips of his fingers against Kiki’s head in a cautious scritch before snapping his hand right back. “Bye, white menace.”  

Rafayel’s moue of specious disapproval turns deeper with her knowing grin. “Let’s go now that you’ve said your farewells to Uncle Rafayel.” She kisses the top of the cat’s head as it purrs in elated satisfaction at her attentions. 

He quirks a flippant brow at her. “All affections for the furry feline, I see.” 

She laughs, the sound an aching balm against long-wrought nerves. “Why, is my fish jealous of a little kitten? Come here, then.”  

“I am not—!” He sputters, just as her hand curves about the back of his neck and pulls downward, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead.  

The previously simmering, barely tamped warmth of his body bursts forth with a brilliant vengeance, his skin set ablaze at just the graze of her touch. Rafayel has to actively constrain himself from keeling over entirely on the floor from his sudden deluge of emotions. Has to curb the quiver of his arms from wanting to steal that heat back against his body.  

She draws back, just as swift, on her feet. The pink of her cheeks is infectious, enticing. Rafayel stares at her, mute and slack-jawed, even as she backs out of the kitchen and through the front door. “I’ll see you tonight, my little fish!” And then he’s left to his own spiraling thoughts.  

Ah. Rafayel scrubs agitated palms down the length of his face in the ensuing silence of their home. His scarlet thread burns incandescent in his hind-vision, flittering in its sporadic expansion. If only she knew how entirely ruined he was at her feet, alone.  

VIII. FLOW  

“You rejected Caleb’s confession?”  

She’d be lying if she said she hadn’t anticipated Tara’s baffled outburst.  

It was part of the reason why she chose to reveal the ‘news’ to her this unceremoniously, as she gently eased Kiki over into Tara’s arms while they stood at her open front door. She adored Tara but was of no mind to be sat down at length while her best friend grilled the details out of her.  

Not ready for the difficult conversations that would ensue; of her past grievances, the break of her fated thread and how she dreaded, within a dark crevice of her heart, that Caleb might turn out to be the one her Fate was once more, trying to bind her to. How could she even begin to delineate it wasn’t what she wanted?  

No, she wasn’t ready for that conversation with Tara, at all.  

“I’m going to be late for my exam, Tara.” She gives her a contrite smile.  

“Yes, I know, sorry, darling, but… why? I really thought things were well between you too. And I was sure there was something going on—! I— can’t you say?” Her friend’s gaze is weighty, imploring. “Is there... someone else?” Her eyes widen. “Is it—” 

And the longer she’s met with terse silence, the heat of her gaze wanes in gradual realization before, at last, she retreats her onslaught, a troubled groan leaving her lips. “At least tell me you’re alright. I’ve been worried about you.”  

“I know, Tara, I’m sorry. I’m perfectly fine.” She gives her free hand a squeeze before withdrawing back a few steps. “I should really go now.”  

Tara loses another sigh. “You really should. Promise we’ll catch up later?”  

“I promise.” She raises her hand in farewell, jogging down the few steps to her house.  

Tara calls out to her just as she reaches the foot of her stairs. “Good luck, girl! I’m cheering for you.”  

She flashes her friend an appreciative smile.  

With Tara, she really can’t be sure if she meant her encouragement for her qualifying physical exam. Or something else entirely.  

Knowing her friend, it was probably both.  

She reaches the examination centre just under the wire, right as the towering gates to the grounds swing shut behind her and two other late-comers.  

Toggling open her Hunter’s Watch, she hastens to join the formation up ahead of several other students, already lined in neat rows for their on-field Wanderers exam. Sidling in place, into her empty spot, just as the instructor in front drones on the list of rules for the exam, from upon his podium. “You are to form pairs of two, as per your roll numbers and enter your designated Protofields, to commence your exam. Before you begin, make sure...” 

He goes over the structures of the regulations one by one, detailing what actions would mete them points and what would deduct them in case of improper conduct.  

“These Protofields have been simulated under intensively controlled environments and contain a plethora of C and B-grade Wanderers you are to deal with, within the desired time limit. Coordinate with your partner, watch each other’s backs and follow all routine safety regulations. Violators will be disqualified on the spot.” He continues. “Keep within bounds of all marked fields, maintain your senses and you should do well. Lastly, trust your education and the skills you have acquired over the course of these years via means of your perseverance and hard work. May you reign victorious, young Hunters!” With his final words, the crowd disperses, heading towards their designated spots for their exams. 

She taps her fingers against her Hunter’s Watch, pulling up the specifications of the Protofield she is to clear, before setting out. 

 

“Gabriel? Hi.” She calls to her team-mate as she moves to join him, recognizing the man from the same class division as hers.  

He returns her greeting, the two setting to sync their data via their watches within the final minute countdown before their exam commences. The flux nexus, in front, pulses to life upon confirmation of both their identities, filtering its pre-programmed wavelength to project upon the barren field. A kaleidoscopic flitter of energy wheeling across the space once is their only indication of a protofield activated, before the two step forwards, cautious, weapons at the ready.  

“No.” Rafayel’s jaw steels in chagrin, hearing the resigned, gentle finality of the words on the other end of the line.  

“Rafayel...” Talia coaxes.  

“I said no. You’re wrong.” He gnashes out, even as the heat simmers, muggy and suffocating, within his body. Even as he continues to deny the indubitable truth of her words.  

For if he did, he would have to face the looming fate of another horrifying possibility.  

The regret of asking for Talia’s help sits heavy within his throat. Facts she utters in such certitude, it leaves Rafayel irrationally agitated. He knows it is not her fault.  

 He hears her soft sigh on the other end of the line. “You told me you’ve been suffering these bouts of ‘fever’ since the past two weeks, an ‘illness’ that refuses to abate and that your...” She pauses, as if seeking words best to voice her next. “incomplete thread has been showing sporadic signs as of late.” 

“Yes.” His voice is quiet, stiff. 

“Rafayel, you’re experiencing early symptoms of an oncoming rut and you know it. You feel it. You didn’t need to call me, when you’re well-informed on the matter yourself, even if you’ve never experienced it before.” She pauses.  “The only reason you reached out to me is that you wanted me to validate your suspicions, isn’t that right?” 

He does not respond to her astute observation.

“An unmated Lemurian cannot experience sexual cycles the same way as a bonded Lemurian. And as you are well-aware, my thread was long severed.” He refutes, contemptuous. “You know what, forget I asked. You clearly don’t understand what’s wrong with me any better than I do. Sorry for crashing your honeymoon. Goodbye, Talia.”  

“Is your thread truly severed, Rafayel?” Her voice rings, solemn, from the other end of the line, just as Rafayel moves to disconnect the call. He pauses, gaze involuntarily skewing towards his lengthening line of red thread. The frown in between his brow turns severe, as if being coerced to witness a sight against his will.  

“You’re experiencing a re-connection and you’re not allowing yourself the happiness that comes with new love. It’s a rare and beautiful thing, for your red fate to find itself weaved against a new person you would cherish.”  

Rafayel does not have the resolve to discredit her words despite his vehement disagreement; having known her experience the loss of her first love, the agony of her days after. And only years later, had she allowed herself to love once more, a happiness Rafayel was content to stand in observance to, glad at her well-deserved peace.   

He, however, was different from Talia. He’d rather his Fate dissipate entirely than for it to wind itself against a stranger. He was different, for Rafayel knew he would never love again, never cherish another, no matter the decades in between.  

For him, there would never be anyone else. 

A transitory pressure curdles heavy about her shoulders as they pace past the barrier and into the protofield. The familiarity of their training grounds dwindles away, large looming falls of thick trees rising, ominous, to blot the skies. Blanketing twilight, instantaneous, overhead. A slow, sweeping curl of gray, mists about their feet, soaking into the dank ground beneath. 

Beside her, she hears Gabriel’s apprehensive breaths. “I can never get used to this.”  

Weapons at the ready, they trudge a slow, cautious path through the simulated wilderness. Gnarled branches seize and snick at their clothes, the craggy mire beneath, a strenuous trudge to keep upright through; as if the forest itself were alive with wicked intent.  

Gabriel’s firearm is the first to go off in a thunderous shot, breaking a flock of obsidian birds to startle into the skies. She follows suit, breaking into a dash along with him; the dark, hunched figure of a fleet-footed Wanderer she aims her gun at and fires, the shot catching it right against its head. The creature lurches forwards onto its body in a seething screech of sound, following its crackling demise into a spoor of pungent smoke.  

The two maintain their steady pace of weeding the area of Wanderers, most they’re able to dispatch with ease. Reflexes and hard ingrained years of training coming into play, the more battles they win through, setting into an easy rhythm of partnership.  

The Wanderer Gabriel skews his sword through in a final thrust, disintegrates into smoke with a rattling gurgle.  She pauses to survey their surroundings, the deep, metallic skies yet to dissipate entirely: indication of a cleared exam. Up ahead, she spies a peculiar forking at the path, the protofield seeming to disperse into dense, murky mist past the intersection. Gabriel flicks the blood off his sword, moving to join her. “Strange.” 

“Yeah. I don’t think low grade Wanderers can distort protofields to this extent.” She agrees. 

“Likely an A grade, at least. Shouldn’t be harder than what we’ve handled so far.” He pauses. “Besides the fact that this one seems like it can replicate itself into weaker copies, judging from the splice it’s created in the field.” 

She frowns at his conclusion, likely accurate. There shouldn’t be an A grade on the loose within a junior hunter’s exam, to begin with; a Wanderer class reserved only for the final year senior field exam. Signals are, as expected sparse, this deep within the protofield, and with an A grade, at hand, tampering the protofield, the possibility of communications being established sits non-existent, at present. She drops a distress signal onto the Hunter’s site, regardless, moving to join him at the fork.  

“We’ll have to clear out the Wanderer, either way, if we want to leave this protofield.” She swipes her empty magazine for a new one, securing it fast back into her gun.  

“Right.” Gabriel’s own fist tightens against the hilt of his sword. “You take the right, I’ll take the left? The distortion should be obliterated on its own once we eliminate all of its copies. I’ll see you soon, partner.”  

“Right back at you. Good luck.”  

Gabriel flashes a flimsy grin at her before treading onto the left path. A swift heavy oppression belts massive across the field, the compression settling a deafening din to her ears. “Hah, Gabriel, wait—” 

But it’s too late. Her partner’s form, long digested by the roiling clouds of black before she can call him back.  

Something’s not right. An A-grade Wanderer shouldn’t be able to exert that kind of pressure. 

An electromagnetic resonance tremors across the space, as if something rattles at the confines of the protofield from beyond. Wanting in.  

Sweat gathers clammy and unpleasant across the back of her neck, her eyes skittering back towards where Gabriel vanished into the murk.  

She firms a hand around her gun, steeling her spine for courage. Whatever anomaly has occurred within the premises of their exam can be dealt with later. Her first priority; to help Gabriel out in eliminating all of the A-grade's clones and dissipating the distortion in front before they planned their next move. And help would arrive soon, once transmission allowed her distress signal to go through, they just had to hold on until then; she reassures herself.  

Moving forward to stride past the muted obsidian barrier at her right.  

The dark cloak of the Wanderer’s protofield washes across her skin like skidding, frigid fingers of emptiness, it spills an involuntary shiver down her spine.  

The cold, metallic spires of the protofield taper off into the void overhead as she steps onto the main field. A skittering figure, one, two, three; lunge, whip-swift, towards her as soon as they spot her, gaping maws and needle teeth poised to tear into her before her fight or flight reflexes jam in. She empties a volley of bullets into their bodies, sieving clean through the approaching Wanderers. Lobs of inhumane flesh, dissipating as soon as they hit the ground.  

Several far smaller figures melt out of the darkness to aim their attacks at her; one after the other she takes down in swift shots. Breaths trembling harsh and hot, her heart hammering over its frantic beats the longer the fight persists.  

A fatigued mistake; being mere seconds slow to switch her empty gun for another, costs her a hard, long gash sliced through the sleeve of her shoulder by the remaining Wanderer. Fire licks up across her arm in a sudden shock of pain, muted instantaneously underneath the roiling pump of adrenaline. She wrenches a dagger off her leg strap. Twisting her torso about to bring her uninjured arm up in a sharp arc, furiously tearing a split through the last Wanderer with a fierce yell and the remnants of her fraying stamina.  

The Wanderer’s remains snivel into a fire just as it hits the ground, the cool, metallic gloom giving way to the unraveling edges of the original forest once more. 

And just as her eyes adjust to the shadows of the protofield once more, she catches sight of a figure slumped upon the grass, unmoving. “Gabriel!” She yells, forcing her limbs underneath her through the pained grit of bared teeth. Clutching hard at her arm to stopper the slow rivulets of blood flow seeping from the gash before she stumbles across the grass towards the man.  

Her Hunter’s Watch blinks, in indication of a transmission successful — her distress signal. Collapsing to her knees at Gabriel’s side just as her watch flares to life in blaring red, an ominous warning running across the screen.  

S-Grade: Deluge Wyrmlord.   Protofield type: Memory Distortion Solo Hunters, do not engage.  

Her mouth runs dry at the far calls of her name—  

“Special Grade—!” Gabriel’s voice resounds just from across the field. “—Run!” 

The collapsed figure at her feet assimilating into thin air, a trick blanketed over her weary mind, by the workings of a high-class Wanderer.  

She feels that intense bone-crushing pressure creep across her back once more, her breath coming through in fits of raspy air. Fixing the barrel of her gun back across her shoulder, she fires, just as a great, dark talon comes across her face, drowning her in darkness.

The call has barely disconnected when Rafayel tosses the phone aside, staggering onto his feet under the heated weight of his body. His eyes drift — an involuntary reflex — towards that squeamish glow of red, his thread flickering in and out of sight, the extended length of it, an alarming sight. Vexation ticks harsh at his jaw.  

Before he’s able to reign control, the spits of a brilliant vermillion fire spurt forth from tapered digits, rushing across the incorporeal red string, in an effort to blaze the blasted thing off of him entirely.  

The fire dissipates, harmless, as expected, with the absence of a pure solid medium to burn. His thread glimmers to life once more, as if deriding Rafayel with its presence.  

Beyond agitated, fervent digits pluck upwards, summoning his Evol to life for a stronger burst of energy —   

A sudden inundating contraction pierces in vengeance across his heart, sending a bolt of excruciating pain lancing through his chest. Rafayel flounders; violently pitching to his knees from the intensity of its sensations. His breaths are hard to smother past lungs that burn for oxygen and yet refuse to inhale. 

Red throbs, vivid and urgent, across his ring finger, as if the call of a terrible siren, knelling of ill-fate and destruction.  

His own fire, begs to consume, hurtling across his skin, a throat that chokes from the fervid heat of his bond, threatening to annihilate him entirely. He feels his humane features molding against the translucent glimmer of cerulean scales, his human form scattering in response to the irrefragable call of his bond, his mate.  

She’s in danger. 

Alarming apprehension dawns upon his mind, the sole thought of her throttling his mind, his oath promised, urging to call upon the one person her thread connects to, a Fate irrefutable, a bond everlasting.  

No. 

A savage inferno tears across Rafayel’s body — scarlet and florid licks of fire — until it engulfs him entirely, leaving nothing in its wake.  

Silence is all that remains behind. 

IX. EBB  [TW for this chapter: passing mentions of domestic abuse]

White peels back from her field of vision; slowly revealing to her the dreary, stifling atmosphere of an incredibly familiar room. A young girl stands amidst a crowd of mourning adults, some in loud tears. Others who secrete their faces into handkerchiefs and shake their heads in dismay at the “poor orphan”. Nausea wrestles pungent within her belly at the sight.  

Her gaze, involuntarily shepherded, past the throng of mourners and towards the picture of the deceased — she knows that face before she sees it — her absent father who had often left her to her own devices, save for the times he was not actively trying to assault her with stray bottles of alcohol, laying in plain sight or the utensils and plates she used to serve his meals, on days he wore down all of their expenses for another swig of tepid, cheap alcohol.  

She knows the child in front of her now feels neither sadness nor remorse as people who call themselves her relatives step over, one after the other, offering words of specious pity and solace she has no use of.  

It was also the day she’d met her Grandma for the first time.  

The scene in front falls out from beneath her feet, traded for the sounds of defeated shrieks and futile violence in the tiny fists that try and shove off the social workers, from bodily dragging her away from the familiarity of her old house. The young girl screams and screams for Rafayel, begs them not to take her away, that she doesn’t want to live with her Grandma several cities across the seas; a gap so wide, how would she ever find the only person who had meant the entire world to her, once more? She hadn’t even told him she was leaving. They wouldn’t let her leave the house, for fear she might run away.  

Her head throbs in vicious pain, ominous tendrils of rooted fire curling through the recesses of her brain as she watches the girl’s — her — futile resistance. 

A gibbering shadow skates past the edges of her vision. She feels like she’s forgetting something direly important, skirting just past the edge of memory. 

The young girl never told the adults around her of the young Lemurian boy — bonded though they were. She knew of the dark whispers that coiled through the cesspool she lived within, how the Lemurians were a species, well-coveted for how steeply priced their bodies sold for, within the black market. 

Her fierce possession and numbing worry for her vulnerable Lemurian had kept her from ever revealing her thread in another’s presence. For how had any of the adults stepped up to be her protectors, ever, in the young girl’s life? She trusted no one, save for herself and her sole mer-friend. She'd promised him they’d stay together forever; she’d vowed upon the sole pair of glimmering seashells, they’d found sanded within their beach, that she’d marry him when they grew up. She had— 

Obsidian smoke curls about her limbs, seeps into her lungs; a slow, poisonous ingestion. The deep, dark dreary roar of a beast sounds from afar, within the recesses of her memories.  

“You abandoned me.” She whips on her heel, coming face to face with her young Lemurian, eyes listless, lightless.  

“No.” She totters away from the horror of her nightmares manifested.  

An ice-cold hand wraps about her torn sleeve, digits digging deep into her wound. She cries out in instinctive pain, wrenching at her arm in an effort to free it. Her wild gaze meets Rafayel’s. Older, far frigid; the present Rafayel looks at her with an insouciant emptiness, it tears at the heart bruising within her chest. “You abandoned me,” he repeats.  

His hand jams about her throat, lifting her clean off her feet. She throttles violently within his grasp, breaths coming in rapid, tapering hisses. “And then, like the rest of those shameless humans, you thought it wise to appear before my eyes once more.” The pressure upon her wind-pipe increases, bit by bit, forcing tears into wide, panicked eyes. “You wanted to capture me too, didn’t you? You're just like the rest of them.” Rafayel’s just ire, cleaves like knives shoved right beneath her breastbone, bleeding out her heart. 

It’s an illusion, Rafayel would never. A stray whisper catches at her ears.  

“Would I really never? Well, aren't your thoughts so convenient. Admit it, you’ve always known.” Rafayel’s gaze is dark in barely tamped wrath and disgust. “I despise you, you and all your kind.” 

“R-Rafayel...” The dull, grey curl of smoke — previously shifting in wait at the edges of her vision — approaches nearer, her defences swiftly waning underneath his assault. Fingers, she scraps bloody against his grip upon her throat, and yet he refuses to relent.  

“It would be better for you to perish here, no? You'll leave me free to live my own life then. I would no longer be shackled to you like some pet.”  

“Y-You were never—” 

A furious scarlet fire splinters a path through Rafayel — his body distorts out of existence for a moment before he gathers form once more. A surprised brow he raises in question at the interference.  

“Snap out of it!”  

Rafayel?  

Her swimming gaze hones in on her beloved, from across the indifferent Rafayel’s shoulder, surely another wraith of her mind; wide blown panic, turbulent within his gaze.  

“What do you think you’re doing believing that sham?” Another burst of Evol sparks across his fingers, aimed at the other Rafayel.  

“You must trust me, believe in me alone.” Another volley of enraged fire skewers through the Rafayel holding her captive — cleaving past him harmless — the latter views him as if he were an offending impediment. “That thing is not me. It’s trying to devour you!” 

“Shut up,” the colder Rafayel speaks, hand jamming tighter against her throat, causing precious breaths to come through stuttered wheezes.  

The other Rafayel steps forward, a desperate hand he holds outstretched for her; an electromagnetic interference rippling about his body, stalling his further motions. “You have to believe the truth in front of your eyes — believe me — to be free of its prison. I have never, not for a moment, held our past against you.”  

“An imposter,” the cruel one says.  

Rafayel drives another step forwards, through the whipping waves of the scape’s resistance, snicking wounds across his jaw, tearing at his clothes. “I don’t regret meeting you.” The gentle azure of his gaze sparks vivid in a deluge of emotions; misery, panic and hopeful sincerity commingling. You were — you have always been my greatest joy, my only muse.” 

The Rafayel that holds her captive bites out an inhumane bark, eyes fading swiftly into obsidian. “I hate you, I’ve always hated you.”  

“Do you remember,” Rafayel urges, heaving another step closer. “the seashells you used to weave into necklaces and put on me when we first met? You told me they made me seem as brilliant as a Sea God, your Sea God, when you did.”A splintered laugh escapes his mouth at the recollection. “Even when I told you the ocean’s gods didn’t wear necklaces made of shells.” 

His voice breaks, emotions raw and desperate within the throaty catch of it, dragging her down the spiral of fond memories. “And the songs you used to hum for us in that odd, off-note voice when you were happy, you’ve retained that silly habit long even into your adult years now.”  

Emotions spurt and tumble free-fall from the inky desolation of her heart, tearing open at the seams of doubts and guilt.  

“And when you are mad, the reckless storm that gathers at your face is endearing. When you forgive me just as easily, the smile that lights your face...” 

A distant rumble sounds through the scape of your illusions, world crumbling apart at the seams.  

“I remember it all, like irreplaceable ornaments, treasures. Without you, I—” He bites back, harsh, at his words. The curious blue sheen across his face, glimmers. 

Eyes that glisten in moisture that threatens to seep past damp lashes; Rafayel’s eyes fall shut in a scraped plea.  

Emotions fueled by the catch of a distraught mind though he were, his words snag, painful, at her throat, springing tears to flow free-fall, at the comfort of his tender confessions. She, too, remembered all there was to know about him, her Rafayel, because of how she adored him. His words and steadfast affection seeping gentle into her mind now, in swift recollection. 

The great, dark beast in front has long shed its false skins, rattling useless in the face of her realization; it wrenches away from her body as if burned. “Pestilent humans.” As it flees entirely from the scape of illusions, great, dark fractures spilling up the space with its departure. 

She drops towards the disintegrating floor, once released, heaving in great lungfuls of air. Rafayel — the wraith of her mind — lunges forward, snatching her body mid-air against his as they fall, with the demolition of the Wanderer’s illusions shattered from her mind.  

A deluging rush of remembrance; the exam, the Wanderer, of being dragged into darkness by the Deluge Wyrmlord tumbles back into a now clear mind. 

And this Rafayel, having stood witness to all her memories.  

He lands on nimble feet, upon the now revealed protofield of the Wanderer; the weight of his Evol, she feels, scatter into the air.  

“You’re injured.” He mourns softly, fingers glancing gentle against the abrasion of her throat from where the Wanderer choked her, down her bruised arm, the blood long staunched in dark red across the cut. 

“I’ll be fine.” She cradles his face within a careful palm, face softening in overwhelming gratitude. If only she, too, could tell him how much she truly loved him. 

Rafayel makes a skeptical sound of disapproval. A hand, he sifts up into her hair and curls about the back of her head. “Hold still.” And before she can finally think to question why a figment of her mind still persists outside the cast illusion, Rafayel is pressing his lips against hers, mouth moving to part hers until she feels warmth flow into her, the shock of his actions making her throat swallow around him on instinct. 

The dull throb at her arm, the cuts and bruises across her aching legs — breaths that seep in easier, with the patched abrasions of her throat — give way to strength as she witnesses her wounds stitch up, in disbelieving surprise. 

“A Lemurian’s essence holds healing properties,” He breathes, heated against her lips. “our tears, saliva—” He pauses. “You’ll feel better soon.” The fever of his skin beneath her grasping fingertips, his shallow breaths come in quick; the flush across his cheekbones feels much too corporeal to be mere figment of her imagination. 

Her eyes widen in disbelief, mind refusing to comprehend his presence. Restless hands tracing the shape of his firm body underneath hers; his neck, the strength of his shoulders, down the unyielding expanse of a solid chest. 

It just couldn’t be. 

“Are you... real?” She slips a palm about the curve of his cheek, index and finger pinching at the flesh. “You can’t be real, you can’t be here.” 

Rafayel chokes on an incredulous laugh. “What an inane question, can’t you tell, silly girl?” He sounds offended. 

A plethora of questions tumble within her mind as Rafayel bumps his forehead up against hers, moisture glistening like pearls upon his cheeks. “I can sense you. And I felt it, when I nearly lost you.” He grits out the words, chagrined; breath hitching in pain as if reliving a nightmare. 

Her heart shrivels at his admission, aching gaze tracing the outline of his Lemurian features. “But, I... I don’t understand. You look so different, Rafayel, what—” 

A great ominous roar sounds from the center of the protofield, the Wanderer now having recovered from its short rebuttal of having been torn away from its prey.  

Rafayel lets her down onto her feet cautiously. Taking her hand in his, his skin sits unbearably warm against hers, “Questions later. We have to get rid of that Wanderer right now. Come on.” 

She nods at him, the two turning to face the Wanderer before they fixate their stance. Hurtling forth in tandem towards the approaching monster; weapons materializing within firm fists. 

They rush, as one, at the large winged creature, aiming right against the base of its great talons. A shield thrown upon the Wanderer, comes half-way down with their first assault.  

Back against his, she feels him tackle down the monster’s onslaught of weaker Wanderers, unearthly fire blazing away at its minions. A shimmering, amethyst line of fetters gathers form with his Evol, to grasp about the Wanderer’s body as it rages. She feels his breaths coming in harsher, feels the way he tightens his body through each motion of offense against their enemy — in no condition to be fighting off a high-class Wanderer with the weight of his sickness slowing him down.  

She captures Rafayel’s wrist in hers, jolting him backwards. Lunging in front of him to take the Wanderer’s next full-bodied assault. “Rely on me, I’ll fight for us both!” She calls to him over her shoulder. 

She catches his mute moment of surprise, out the corner of her eye before he bursts into quiet laughter. “What a reliable bodyguard.” Curving a palm about her shoulder, his Evol, she feels resonating against hers in harmony. “But if you insist.” Weaving their Evols together to strengthen; the dark fetters that plunge forwards this time, chain about the Wanderer’s girth, firmer, breaking clean through another of its shields.  

The Wyrmlord screeches in crazed agony, ramming a heavy appendage straight for them. The two lunge in opposing directions to avoid the assault; Rafayel, a split second too slow to dodge as its claws catch at the side of his abdomen, tearing at his shirt.  

He hurtles heavily onto the ground, body rolling across the Protofield before he swiftly catches himself, teetering back on to unsteady legs. His pants come in harsher, the scales across his face glimmering in fevered sweat; his body’s condition holding him back.

“Rafayel!” She calls for him on an urgent shout, rushing the Wanderer from its side, to cleave clean through its shield of defense. “Don’t push yourself anymore and stay back! You aren’t well!” 

He shakes his head at her, holding his body high once more. His shallow wound, she sees, stitch up soon after, the incandescent cerulean glow of his scales striking against his features. “It’s not what you think it is.” Rafayel streaks forward just as the Wanderer attempts to take flight for a sweeping offensive. 

He springs for the monster, using the momentum of his run, punting hard off its body; vicious chains of static purple zipping through it, to bring it crashing down onto the ground. The Wanderer’s remaining shield shattered in one critical hit, bringing it down in a violent collision of great, dark wings and a massive scaled body, vulnerable to damage.  

“Now! Rafayel instructs. Coalescing the bulk of his powers into the clench of a fist, he lunges for the Wanderer; her own movements, complimenting against his. Raising their weapons up high, their Evols converge against the other’s in a final, galvanic purple blast of energy. 

The Wanderer screeches one final sound of agony before it skitters lifeless at the ground, its disintegration setting into tattered fragments of energy.

The protofield around them begins to wane, jagged shards of breakage appearing across the domed surface of it, as soon as the Wanderer falls. 

“It’s over.” She exhales, relief plucking sharp across the back of her breastbone.

“Let me take… a moment to catch my breath.” And with the sheer adrenaline of the fight holding him up now, gone, so too does Rafayel’s strength ebb from him entirely, as he pitches onto his feet. “Rafayel!”  Just as she dives forward to catch him within her arms before his body hits the ground. “Hey!”  

Rafayel’s breathing harder, the sweat that dampens his brow far more pronounced with the appearance of his Lemurian features, glimmering scales gradually fanning wider across his skin. “Stay with me, it’s over.”

And then she sees it, the flittering of vivid red, burning against his ring finger. Pulsing harsher with each labored sound of breath he endures through and her breath frosts within her lungs.

She feels the distant pattering of approaching footsteps just as Rafayel’s hot palm curves about her wrist in a possessive hold. “We have to get out of here. I need to get home.”  

The frantic calls of her name echo across the field; she lifts her head to catch sight of a pale-faced Gabriel, waving his hands at her from just across the area. She shouts at him to stay where he is, cradling Rafayel closer to her torso for fear of his scales being seen. 

In this moment, she cannot bring herself to care for anything except providing what Rafayel needs; the frenetic urgency to his words enough to have her obeying without questions asked.  

Calling for her teammate, once more, to let the others know they were both alright and that she’d be back at a later time before Rafayel urges her thoughts back to himself.

“That’s... enough. Come now.” He moans within her embrace, just as Gabriel utters an unintelligible question of confusion. Her Lemurian’s fingers spasming against hers, “Hold tight.” he grinds out, before they’re both engulfed in a florid sea of fire.  

X. FLOOD 

The two of them come crashing onto a hard, polished surface; Rafayel’s arms tightening about her body in protection, just as his shoulder connects with the floor, with their fall. Deposited into the empty safety of his room — she notes in shock — by his Evol already shriveling out of existence.  

He shudders in visible pain beneath her, just as she scrabbles to get off his body. “I’m sorry—” The ferocity of his strength, however, hauls her back, bodies crushed against each in a firm, searing line. 

Rafayel’s pants rattle hot against the skin of her neck; the harsh rise and fall of his chest, she feels burn against her own, even through their clothes. He keeps them enclosed within that sweltering space of silence for several, long moments. 

Reaching her fingers out to comb through his unruly hair, in comfort, the adrenaline of their fight having fast shifted into worry for his health.  

Why had he decided to come after her in the fevered state he was in? How had he even known to come for her? The questions, unanswered, careened about in an endless cycle within her mind. 

Her Rafayel shifts, face sinking deeper against her breasts. Nosing, delicate, at the space exposed by her open collar as he inhales, long. His previous labored breaths seemingly soothed in her proximity, as he continues to breathe her in.

Her next gasp soughs past her lips on a catch of barely tamped sound, Rafayel’s gaze rolls up to meet hers — hot and piercing.  

“Rafayel,” She cups a hand about his warm cheek. “Let’s get you off the floor now, you’ll worsen your fever.”  

He knocks his cheek further into the space of her palm, lashes quivering shut, in comfort. “I told you... it’s not a fever ruining my body.” He repeats the words he’d uttered to her back in the Protofield.  

“It’s you.” Her mind jostles to a screeching halt.  

“What?” 

Rafayel’s body tightens beneath hers, the lean strength of his arms coming about to lift, with an ease entirely unexpected of a sick man. He moves them both onto the expanse of his bed, seating himself down, with her firm on his lap. “I’ve been going through these feverish bouts because you’ve been calling for me.” He heaves. “I’d never experienced them before because we’d never—” his words break. Rafayel’s fingers slip a slow, cautious path along the base of her spine, it makes her shiver above him. “I could’ve lost you,” he murmurs, “back there.” Hauling her close once more to sink his face into the crook of a tense shoulder as he breathes her in deep.

“I’m here now, I’m fine.” She soothes a gentle palm down the line of his back, the mild quivers that take it, muted into rest with her strokes. “Thank you for coming for me earlier.”

“Of course I did.” His grip upon her body tightens. “You called for me.” 

She rakes her fingers through his hair. “I... did not call for you, Rafayel. Even if I did, it’s impossible for you to have heard—”  

“Silly girl.” He captures her hand within his hair, entwining his fingers in between hers. “Do you not see?” Bringing their palms up close together for her to witness—

Red flitters about her ring finger, vivid — her heart jostles over its beats — the line of it longer and far corporeal, glimmering within the dark of his room, spiraling an undulating path up, up.  

Finding its other half, caught against the base of Rafayel’s finger. Her breath seizes within her throat at the sight, wary gaze tracing the line of the previously absent thread against their fingers. Not daring to believe the implications of the sight and what Rafayel too was saying. “How could this— I thought we were—”

“A Lemurian’s very being is set to perceive their beloved, in their entire capacity. Without exception.” He brings their entwined fists up to his mouth, feathering a kiss onto her knuckles apiece. “And I have not changed since the first moment I met you.”  

The heat of his words is within her head, the frenzied hammering of her heart within her throat. She dares not breathe too loud, dares not speak for fear of this precious moment shattering. The inference of his words could not be clearer and yet. A fleeting recollection of the Wanderer’s cast illusion comes to mind, the cold Rafayel’s unforgiving gaze flashing against hers.  

“Has your heart then... changed?” He asks, the wavering azure of his gaze fixated firm upon hers.

She caresses the back of her fingers against his cheek, down the line of his jaw. “It has not, not for a single moment in all these years but—” She whispers. But could you ever forgive me for leaving you on your own? 

“I’m not asking you for anything beyond that. I don’t care for it.” He shifts a thumb against the line of her lips dampened with a nervous swipe of her tongue. “I’m asking to know if the woman I love is willing to accept me again.”  

Her breath hitches within her throat. Turbulent emotions burst forth within her chest at his words, a sweet ache quivering at the back of her breastbone, the magnitude of his words she isn’t able to comprehend. Unable to believe the words she’s been wanting to hear him say, all this time, leaving that beautiful mouth. 

She surges forward onto his lap, desperate to answer the man who’s entrusted his heart so keenly into her hands. “I never stopped in the first place.” She speaks, adamant. Her fingers brush at his face, down the length of his neck to hold. The pads of them grazing the beauty of his scales, glimmering within the moonlight that shafts into the quiet dark of his room through the gauzy curtains. “I’ve loved only you all these years and by god, Rafayel, I don’t think I could ever love anyone but you.” She’s out of breath and dizzy in love, it’s a feeling she never wants to clamber out of, if it means he’d continue to look at her, just the way he is now.

She hears the audible throttle of his breath; a low, anguished sound, as if she’d told him something he’d considered entirely impossible. Rafayel had seemed so sure of her feelings, and yet, he looks at her now, with a relieved sort of devotion and desire. “Which god?” His whisper is sultry, his gaze along with the heat of his skin beneath have her feeling faint within his embrace, the flex of his arm tightening its hold about her waist.  

She tips her head closer, her lips shaping her answer a mere breadth from his. “My Rafayel, my own Sea God.” She braves a kiss against his mouth. “I love you.” She confesses, “I love you so—” 

Rafayel heaves forwards, filching the rest of her words right against the desperate tongue he sweeps into her mouth. Lips moving against each other in a mesh of reckless teeth and tongue, refusing to release from each other. Her fingers catch at the fabric of his collar, in a bid to drag him closer. Rafayel’s palms, a stable hold about the flare of her hips as she bucks against him in instinctual desire at the feeling of his tongue sweeping into her mouth. Her core grazes against the distinct line of his stiff arousal, straining beneath the placket of his trousers.  

Rafayel moans a low, throaty sound against her damp lips. “This is your fault,” he whispers, feverish. “You’re the one who has left me so vulnerable.” 

The turbulent seas within his gaze burn luminous, the gentle florid pinks of his irises swallowed within the blue that takes them. The scarcity of his scales now fleshing a path from his face. Down the graceful arc of his neck and across the expanse of his clavicle. Disappearing just under the line of collar of his shirt. She treks a reverential path about his beautiful Lemurian features; a shuddered exhale leaving Rafayel, in his inexplicable state of heightened sensitivity. “Do you know what’s wrong with me?” He seizes her exploring wrist within his gentle hold, halting her movements. His chest heaves once more in vehement, anguished pants, his skin impossibly hot beneath hers.

“No, tell me what’s happening to you. Why are you—” 

“—so sexually aroused?” He supplies, mouth skewing into a smile with the hot flush of her cheeks.  

“...I was going to ask about your humane features unraveling but that too. You're... burning up.”  

He sighs against her glancing touch, at the scales of his neck. “Each year, when the moon shifts phases and the tides ebb from the shores, bonded Lemurians go through an inevitable period of increased sexual activity. We are,” he pulses a delicate kiss to the inside of her captured wrist. “extremely vulnerable during this time, our base appetites, near insatiable, unless we bear it through with our bonded mates.” 

A streak of desire spurts within her chest, seeping down into her abdomen to pool in between her legs. “So then, all this time, you were...” 

“‘Sick’”, he continues, “because I wasn’t funneling my desires with my mate.” He tugs her close by her imprisoned hand, murmuring, hot, within her ear. “within my mate.” 

A low moan of desire breaks from her lips at his licentious provocation.  

“I’ve never experienced one before.” He confesses heavily. “I wasn’t sure what it was, when it started; the time of the year seemed to coincide with my symptoms but we weren’t bonded... not to my knowledge.” Rafayel’s gaze treks against the shimmering line of their thread, re-connected. “It’s a rarer miracle for it to find itself weaved against the ones it broke in between, more so than it is for the thread to re-emerge in between new lovers.” He laughs; a low self-deprecating sound. “Fate really played me for its fool.”

She murmurs his name, gathering his hand closer to press a reverent kiss against his ring of red at his finger. “I love you, Rafayel.” she reiterates, dragging his wide, wavering gaze back towards herself, letting the irrefutable truth of her words sink in. That it’s not Fate that tugs at the cogs of their bond now, but her feelings, unchanged as they’ve remained.  

“Promise me,” he implores. “Promise you’ll continue to see me the same, no matter how many years pass us by. Promise you’ll stay by my side this time?”  

Her answer rushed, eager, yearning to soothe. “Yes. Yes, I will. I want to stay by your side.” Stealing her arms about the broad strength of his shoulders, to pull closer.  

“Don’t let me go.” Rafayel breathes. Their mouths crush against each other in a consuming kiss; an urgent prayer he makes of her name. 

Each time she squirms atop his lap with the force of his kisses, her increasingly damp core shifts in glancing strokes above his clothed length. Her fingers jolt about Rafayel’s shoulders, sinking harsh into the skin through cloth, with a particularly ruinous lap of his tongue into her mouth.  

Her fingers fly for the clasps of his shirt, rushing down the length of buttons, generously revealing the unyielding expanse of his chest, the line of his toned abdomen. Briefly trekking the warmth of his skin with the pads of inquisitive digits before her mouth follows suit, drifting from Rafayel’s to kiss a path across the firm expanse of his chest. Slicking a gentle tongue right above his heart in devoted gratitude for the one who loves her so wholly. 

She glides a slow palm down his abdomen, appreciating the tremulous clench of muscles, underneath her touch. Her coveting digits pause at the metal clasp of his belt, gaze canting up to meet Rafayel’s in silent request.  

“Yes,” he grinds out, through arduous pants of her name. “It’s yours, I’m yours, do as you please.” She pushes off his lap, dropping onto her knees in between his legs at his affirmation. Rafayel’s breaths hitch higher within his throat, at the snag of her fingers reaching to swiftly undo the fastenings of his belt, pulling it clean from its confines to discard it onto the floor of his room. Her palm slips down the line of his zipper, stimulating him impossibly harder as she works to release him from the confines of his trousers.  

Until Rafayel sits there; her devastatingly alluring Lemurian, near-naked, save for the shirt that sags against broad shoulders, and the remaining modesty of his underwear. She takes a moment to control her shaky breaths before her thumbs slip under the waistband of his final barrier, keeping him from her gaze. Sliding the garment in one careful stroke, down the strength of his legs until she tosses it off to the side. His cock springs to full length, freed from its confines, hard; it curves, slight, towards his abdomen, the gentle slick of minute bluish scales running along the underside of his shaft. A thing of beauty, just as its owner.

The twitch of his length within her grasp is palpable as she moves to work an admiring fist about it. A lone bead of pre-cum sits upon the flared head of his cock; her tongue darts out in instinctual rapacious desire to sweep it into her mouth. The sweet-salt tang of him she hums against, in a soft moan, “I love how you taste.” 

Long, tapered digits thread through the fall of her locks, curving a loose fist at the back of her head. Her eyes traveling up his torso to meet his, bright in aroused impatience. It makes her want to flip that expression over into something entirely different. She tips forwards, lips falling apart to take the head of him into her eager mouth, just as Rafayel rewards her with his first approving groan. Tongue slicking about the head of him to lick, down, at a vein just underneath the flare of his head. His hips judder up into her face with the action, slipping more of him into her welcoming throat. “What’re you doing to me?” He moans, in gravelly rapture. “Your mouth feels divine.”  

She feels the clench of her own abdomen at his praise, wetness seeping further into the cloth of already damp panties. Her mouth slips further down the thick length of him, working him deeper into her throat as she tries and relaxes against the instinctive gagging intrusion of him. A shuddering string of words, he makes of her name, in overwhelming arousal, help her along on his cock. Until she is sliding about the length of him, back and forth, tongue drooling its spit down the expanse of his cock she cannot fit into herself.  

His fingers have tightened into a near-spasm within her hair, not nearly enough it hurts, holding her fixated in place; the pads of his digits tracing soothing, encouraging circles about her scalp as she sucks at his cock. “You’re doing so — agh — so well.” The fingers of his free hand, Rafayel brings to curve, delicate, about her jaw, tipping up; her eyes finding his, on silent instruction.  

He looks entirely gone, the rugged flush of his cheeks enticing as it dashes across his ears. Springs down the crescent of his neck and across the firm expanse of his chest. Rafayel’s cock hits the back of her throat on her next intake; she swallows against the heady swell of him, deliberate, measured, refusing to relent her gaze as she does. It immediately has the effect she desired; Rafayel’s next breath rattling out of his chest on a wrenched groan of pleasure, the blue of those inhuman eyes glistening brilliant as he propels his hips into her, in a reflexive bid for more.

His fingers skid along the underside of her jaw, where mouth meets throat, grazing for the place he knows she has him settled inside. A long, tapered index, he flicks down the line of her neck — she swallows on instinct, dragging another choked moan out of him as reward — before it comes to rest at the buttoned collar of her shirt. “Off.” He murmurs, hazily. Deftly unfastening open the first few buttons before he curves his index beneath her collar to tug. “Take it off. I want to see all of you when I come.” Pooling a blush into her cheeks at his sweetly sensual appeal. 

She pulls her shirt over her head, lured along by the nimble hands that drag her close, reaching around her, to undo the clasp of her bra before he coaxes that too, off her body. Mouth falling slack, cerulean flashing vivid, in flared arousal and want; to witness the heaving tremble of her breasts as she descends on him once more. 

Rafayel eases stray locks of her hair back against her ear to better afford himself the view of pink, moist lips parting to swallow around him once more in renewed enthusiasm. 

Her hands flitter about the length of him, slick slide aided by spit and pre-cum as she moves to work her tongue around the tip; the broad of it she teases at the slit, making Rafayel shudder above her. Slipping, slow and sure, down the generous length of him, insatiable desires flooding in the clench of empty walls, for the brimming taste of him within her throat.

Rafayel’s pants have turned far harsher, sporadic in impending release. She continues to ease her tongue about his length, her palms soothing down the tense muscle of his thighs before she moves to cup her fingers about his balls. “I’m—” Rafayel snaps.  

The skin beneath her fingers tightening, as she sucks about his shaft, to help him along the final stretch of his incoming release, swallowing up to the base of him in one forceful go. Her throat constricting in protest at the rough intrusion. Rafayel groans out loud — frenzied palms pressing at either sides of her head to force her off of his cock, just as he comes in thick, spurting strokes, across her cheeks, her nose; down the curve of her chest.  

“I can’t take it any longer,” he rasps. Hauling her onto her feet by her arm, he tumbles her back onto the cool, crumpled sheets of his bed. 

She barely has but a single moment to catch her breath — more from the surprise of his vehemence — before the shorts of her uniform, are being wrested off her body in the fervent catch of desperate fingers. Rafayel gets the material half-way down her thighs before his long-frayed patience snicks off entirely; a cool rubescent fire licks up clean across the material, blazing the offending cloth away entirely.  

She’s left dumbstruck, pleasure-addled mind wrung in between faint amazement at his precise Evol manipulation and mild offense at his ruination of her uniform. “We’ll get you a new one.” He heaves — as if he’s read her mind — in between kisses laid onto the instep of her bare leg, working up across her calf. “As long as you let me have you right now, I’ll do whatever you want.” 

Her breath seizes within her throat at his sultry request. Rafayel’s palms trace about the shell of her hips, curving about the sides of her abdomen before he caresses them up her stomach, pressing, light, into the yielding flesh. Her body shudders beneath his testing caresses. One of his hands steals down the cusp of her clothed mound, index and middle stroking at her labia above panties, before he skates them in between her folds. The two moan in unison; to feel how drenched she is for him.  

Her body squirms against his, begging for more of that sweet friction. Hips bucking up into his hand to force more of him against her aching slit. Rafayel towers above her, the delectable flush across that slack, sensual expression has her fluttering in on emptiness, her hole aching to be filled completely — as if she too has taken on the fever of his desires, writhing in phantom heat. Her drifting mind wonders for a fleeting moment, if a human bonded to a Lemurian could experience the mind-numbing lust of their cycles, along with their partners. That stray thought, she believes, with each passing second he riles her up in delirious rapture.  

Holding himself above her upon the crook of a folded arm, Rafayel descends for her mouth, covetous tongue savoring a moan against hers. She feels the hot, wet strength of his cock — already firmed to stone once more — rolling against the inside of her thigh. Just as he slips a long, tapered digit past her underwear, to curve it directly against her soaked opening. Her hips jump violently at the contact, her squeal of arousal Rafayel pilfers against a throaty chuckle. “You’re so wet.” Pressing up into her to make his point, the audible squelch of her slick, loud within the quiet night. “Are you enjoying this, my love?” 

“Isn’t,” she gasps, heat gathering, strong, into her face. “isn’t the answer obvious?” 

Rafayel hums, the skew of his smile tugging higher; a slow, relishing tongue he runs across his upper lip, end to end. And before she can think to parse the intention behind that wicked gaze, Rafayel’s palms are cupping about the soft of her ass —  digits pulsing into pliant flesh — to shear her underwear off, lifting her hips up to shove his tongue in between her legs. 

Her next sound leaves her on a shriek of pleasure, blaring stars wheeling across her field of vision. Fervid digits she convulses into the yank of his hair, in a manner that has to hurt and yet Rafayel makes no move to budge back, mouth sinking deeper against the wet flood of her heat. He curves his tongue up against her fluttering walls, sweeping at the slick. Nosing a stifled hum against her clit and that is all it takes for her over-sensitised body to break, spasming into a prompt, violent orgasm that siphons the breath from her lungs and the voice from her throat.  

Dazed in her floating awareness of the scrupulous mouth that continues to suck at her folds, laving away all of her released desire for himself. And when she sinks a quivering hand into tousled locks in whimpered protests of being too sensitive, all Rafayel offers her is an impish chuckle pressed into the soft of her thigh, right beside her mound. “You had your fun, didn’t you? It’s my turn now.” 

With that sensuous warning uttered, his mouth returns its attentions to her weeping slit once more, lips closing about the nub at her apex, sucking gentle at the bead. The jump of her hips Rafayel conquers, in the indolent arm he shackles about her waist, fingers reaching to hold hers across the quivering pliance of her stomach.  

The broad of his tongue laps a path above her entrance, catching at any stray slick that leaks from her before he eases the tip of it back into her slit, relishing the clench of her walls in a throaty groan. He continues to prolong that titillating torture of his, edging his tongue at just the entrance of her pussy, till her body burns once more within the kindled flames of a cresting orgasm.  

“Rafayel, there — hah — right there. Rafayel.”  Sliding that tormenting tongue into her walls once more, to her relief, to the mewls of his name flooding like rain from a parched tongue, the spasm of her fingers she smothers against their entwined digits at her abdomen.  

“Sing higher,” his stuttered groans smothered enthusiastic, into the drench of her slit. Tongue curling up against her frontal walls, in a drag that has her fracturing under his mouth once more. Tears sprung to lust-hazed eyes from the overwhelming arousal wrought upon her body under Rafayel’s dexterous tongue.  

He exhales a pleased sigh against her mound, each heated breath causing shivers to jump across tender skin. A kiss, Rafayel lays right against her swollen clit. 

“Once more.” Her walls clench in wrecked protest, a whimper leaving her throat at his whispered words. “Give me just one more.” He entreats. “I need your taste in my mouth again.” A flitter of kisses he strokes against the line of her pelvis, her mound; dark gaze rolling up to meets hers from in between her legs. She flushes at the intensity of their contact held, without mercy. Her wordless squeeze about her hand given, is all the permission her hungering Lemurian requires to sink back towards her wet heat.  

Tapered digits reach to shape a path about the sensitive bead of her pleasure, pinching in between steady, pleasurable strokes. Before they descend lower, coveting towards her fluttering entrance. Rafayel presses up, gentle, into her walls to coax wetness onto his digits with each drenched thrust of his fingers into her.  

His hand releases from hers, palm drifting up across the plane of her body to cup about a pliant breast. Fingers caressing a circular path about her areola in soft, stimulating strokes and she quivers at the sensation, breaths coming in short, stifled bursts of air.  

Rafayel’s mouth closes about her clit, just as the arch of his fingers hit at a particularly hot, sensitive spot within her pussy; walls spasming about his fingers, swallowing him in. His name soughs past her lips on whimpered gasps with each steady thrust of him up into her walls.  

The pads of his digits tweak about the puckered bead of her breast, thumb denting gentle at the bud, sending a jolt of arousal straight in between her legs.  

Rafayel continues to lap her up, dutiful; his lashes descending in pleased satisfaction just as her third, mind-numbing release crests through her body, leaving her skin a drenched, ruined mess Rafayel sucks at, in throaty moans of delight.  

“Rafayel,” she urges, unable to stand the searing desire he’s put inside her, body hungering for the heat of his cock in desolate emptiness. The overwhelming desire to feel his heat flooding into her, with how long he’s strung her dry for himself. She catches his face in between tremulous digits, pulling him from in between her legs to meet his gaze, dark in fervent desire. “I need you inside me now.”  

Heated obscurity scatters momentarily from his eyes at her fevered request, hips rolling against hers so she feels the hot strength of his arousal brush against her inner thigh; her gasps breaking into the air, at that brief second of contact. Burying her next moan in the vicious bite of teeth at his clavicle, when his cock ghosts across her mound, so close to where she wants him. “If you’re sure you want this...” He groans in ardent murmurs against her mouth.  

Her clambering response is swift and eager. “I want this, I want you.”  

“I’ll let you have me,” he relents in between their wet kisses. “this time, all of me. So drown with me, my beloved bride. Love me.” 

Just as he snaps his hips forwards, the head of his cock pressing her open for himself. The delectable stretch of him, so easy within the drenched warmth of her body as it ravenously sucks at him, all the way in. Rafayel’s searing groan of pleasure, he breaks against her jaw; mouthing, mindless, at the taut skin.  

The union of their bodies, have left them both winded, without breath to draw into aching lungs; several moments they take in between heated gazes and consuming kisses, unmoving. Growing accustomed to this new, exquisite feeling of being so deeply intertwined into each other, she feels she could live like this against him for the rest of her life.  

Until Rafayel begins to move and her world explodes into turbulent sparks of blinding pleasure, unlike anything she’s quite experienced before. His hands are upon her body, covetous digits flittering in between them to touch at dewy skin. Testing his touch against the trembling give of her breasts. Mouth capturing a pert nipple into his mouth, to suck until she keens underneath him.  

Her ankles hook about the base of his spine, dragging Rafayel’s propulsions deeper into her. A stuttered moan, she throttles out of him, at the stimulation before his hand steals about her ass to lift her lower body entirely off the bed. Angling his hips, Rafayel’s thrusts turn impossibly deeper, with the assistance offered in their new position; his pelvis grinding flush against hers on each fevered plunge. “You’re perfect around me, so very — hah — warm,” he grinds out in heedless praise, hips snapping against her harder, in rising intensity, in chase of a hovering orgasm.  

She moans in appreciation around the tongue he slips into her slack mouth in yearning want. “Rafayel,” she chokes out. “I’m so close.”  

“Me too,” he groans, shifting his weight forwards to lean against the crook of his arm at her side. His fingers trek up a path against her slack arm, digits entwining through hers, the line of their red thread flickering in between them both as they approach the crest of their combined pleasures.  

“I love you,” she sobs in between quivering gasps; his gaze crinkling in warmed affection and desire so acute, it drags another whimper out of her.  

“I love you.” Rafayel declares, into the catch of his kisses against her mouth, her cheeks, down the crescent of her jaw. Laving a kiss into the curve of her neck in a worrying bite of teeth, marking her for his own. He switches his pace once more, cock spearing up against her frontal walls in frenzied thrusts. “Come for me,” he beseeches. 

Jaw falling slack in a daze of undulating desire when she obliges at the heated scrap of his words, tumbling over the edge in an orgasm so vehement, her spine arcs clean off the bed. “You’re so good for me.” He worships.

Cresting waves of pleasure, she rides in the hard clench of her walls against Rafayel’s throbbing cock, pulsating hot within her until he too follows soon after. An incomprehensible swell of his cock inside, rising with its pulsations, has her gasping out a low, keening sound at the aching stretch of her pussy, it prolongs her high onto wondrous, searing moments of dizzy elation. Her toes curling into the sheets as the steady bulge of him catches at her walls and snags inside, hot spurts of cum surging into her, so much of it, she feels light-headed from how stuffed he has her. Just as Rafayel’s head falls low, on a loud, long groan of release.

Their damp breaths break against each other’s mouth for several moments that follow after, as they try and muster their senses back to themselves. Her fingers tracing absent, soothing circles along the curve of Rafayel’s spine until his trembling body stills to a gentle lull above her, quieted in the wake of their vehement orgasms.

A strange, fascinating imprint, throbs scarlet right above his heart — in the fleeting likeness of a fish — just as Rafayel’s rattling breaths abate. Captivated fingers she ventures, to trace against the edges of the mark. “...What is this, Rafayel?”  

“A sign of Lemurian loyalty.” A quiet smile tips across his face at the question.

The swell of breathless surprise, she knows is upon her face. “My devotion, here on, it’s yours to do with, as you please.” A kiss he buries into her palm in overwhelming affection. “I’m allowing myself to be trapped by you.” 

A low sob of adoration breaks from her throat at the words, just as the proof of his vow fades fast into his skin. A hand, she brings about his neck, to haul him down against her, to treasure a kiss right above where his heart thrums its beats, elated desire burning warm within her chest.  

Rafayel moves above her, maneuvering their positions until she rests at her side, within the circle of her arms, bodies still conjoined. His cock — she realizes with dazed shock — is still hard within her body. “Are you afraid?” He asks, gentle fingers carding through the mussed tresses of her hair. “I’ll need you much more times before I’m sated, you know.”  

She shakes her head at him, palm moving to cradle against his cheek. “I want all of what you have to give me, Rafayel. I’ll take it all.” 

He drags her closer by the hips at her affirmations; his touch along the back of her ass tending a slow fire back up within her weary body, as he moves to hoist her leg up against the cut of his hip.  

And she lets him show her just how profound a Lemurian’s devotion to his beloved truly runs, throughout the entirety of the night and into the greeting of dawn — a depth as unbounded as that of the Oceans.

End Notes: Tagging as requested: @samanthagnicole , @catboi-anon , @bitches4lifebro

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here.

You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter, if you’d like to scream with me about hot characters.

[docdudo]

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 8)

It's not that you didn't like Johnny. He was just as nice as all the others, more charismatic than Price and Ghost, that's for sure. He was gentle with you, and that's nice, very nice... but goddamnit, was he lively.

You had werewolf classmates before, of course you did, and to be honest? They were all the same. Too much energy, too much movement, just... too much. Your only saving grace was that none of them were friends with you, so you didn't deal with their energy directly most of the time.

But now, one of your foster parents is a werewolf.

And... you are not really too excited about that. You follow along the path with him, watching his wagging bushy tail, sharp smile and light gym clothes like he barely feel the cold weather, and... you try to get used to this.

Used to him.

"Aye, and this is our shed!" Johnny smiles, pointing at the the big shed by the side of the house. The wooden door, differently to the doors inside the house, had a high handle and a big lock, making you look at it a bit questionably as Johnny chuckles a little. "Yeah, lass, ye can't go inside the shed alone. Too many dangerous tools."

You nod slightly, not really interested in the shed in the first place. There were houses you have stayed in that wouldn't let you go inside any room besides your bedroom, the bathroom and the living room. You were used to these kind of rules.

"Ye sure you don't wanna play tag, pup?" Johnny asks as he turns to you, clearly excited as his tail wags hard and ears perk up. "It's healthy to exercise! Ah'm sure ye'll like it, aye??"

You don't really answer verbally, but just your conflited expression was enough to make him sigh a little with a smile still on his face.

"'Kay, 'kay, ah get it." He shakes his head slightly, tail calming down a little on all the wagging. "I'll try to follow Kyle's advice." Then, he cups his mouth lightly with his hand, like he's telling a secret, as he whisper-shouts to you. "Lad's the smartest of the bunch, he knows what he's talkin' about!"

You nod slightly at that, a small smile coming to your face. He has a bit of a funny personality.

Just your small, shy smile was enough for him to bite down on his lower lip as he tried to control the deep croon he wanted to let out. God... he wanted to just pick you up and carry you forever. He really thought he wouldn't have a more delicate baby then when his harpy babies were born, but oh God, was he wrong....

You just look soooooo... damn small, and cute, and fragile. You don't move much, you don't look particularly energetic and you are bundled up cutely with layers of warm clothing as you look up at his face with big eyes.

So defenseless. How did humans defend themselves in this world??

He couldn't let you get hurt, ever. You are his resposibility now. His and his pack's responsibility.

And, oh God, were you shivering? You seemed to have curled up a little, was it too cold despite their efforts??

How easily did a human get sick??

He's warm. He's very warm. He could warm you up right away. You got so warm when he curled up with you on the nest, he could do it again...

"I-is everything okay...?" Your little meek voice snapped him out of his instincts for a second, eyes widening as he clears his throat slightly.

"Aye, aye, perfectly fine, wee lass. Come 'ere."

Even tho he told you to come to him, he was the one to come to you and kneel down in front of your small form, big hands coming to your jacket to gently adjust on your body firmly, a focused expression on his face as he checks all your others piece of clothing.

"Is it too cold out 'ere, lassie?" He coos quietly, a small pout coming to his lips naturally. It looked like he was talking to a toddler, and it made you blush a little in embarrassement.

"I-It's fine..." You mumble back, unsure. Yeah, sure, it was a bit cold, but nothing you couldn't take, especially with your new clothes.

He didn't seem very convencied, and quickly, he picked you up on his arms, easily taking you to his chest. You were not that surprised anymore, even if just a little startled, but at least he felt warm...

"Ye see, wee lass... we live a bit farther than the other houses, aye?" He asks as he turns to look back at the rest of the land, a lot of grass in a big, big plot, surrounded by a forest. There was a street not that far from there taking to the rest of the city. "We like lots of space, so our plot comes from all the way from the back of our house to the street up ahead."

That makes you winden your eyes a little, and now that you were in his warm arms, turning your head on his direction made you almost bump noses with him.

"All the way to the street...?" You mumble, almost incredulous.

"Aye! Big plot, yeah? Pride and joy to raise my pups 'ere! And when ye go back to school, we'll use one of our trucks to take ye." He smiles, tilting his head to the side in the direction of a big construction in the distance, hard to see, but you deduced it was where the automobiles were.

Suddenly, his fluffly ears perked up, turning on the direction of the house without him even turning his face. A smile appeared easily on his face as he looked down at you on his arms.

"Mama is calling us back." He snickers as he jokes, making you tilt your head in confusion a bit. "Simon, aye? Actually, both mamas. Even Kyle is starting to get antsy. Best that way, eh, wee pup? Before ye get a cold."

You turn your head over his shoulder to look back at the house, and sure enough, Simon and Kyle were both waiting by the open door as Johnny started to make his way back with you still on his arms.

"Tsc, are you trying to make her get sick?" Simon snarks as soon as you two get close enough to the door, grabbing you from Johnny's arms as he takes you inside quickly.

"We dinae even spend that much time outside!" Johnny protests even tho he still had a smile on his face.

"No, I agree with Si, even I was getting a bit antsy." Kyle sighs, closing the door behind Johnny, making sure to lock it. "I thought it would be fine, but it's cold out, and... ugh, whatever. It's hard to explain." He grunts, shaking his head.

"Nah, I get it." Johnny laughs slightly, watching Simon taking your jacked and beanie off gently as he leads you to the kitchen to eat dinner. "Was getting deep into my instincts and lassie was just... standing still, looking at me with big ol' eyes."

"Next time, we are all going out together." Kyle nods, going back to the kitchen with Johnny right behind him.

[helianyx]

rescuing kittens -

pairing: sylus x mc word count: 2,509 summary: While attempting to rescue a poor cat stuck in a tree, MC… also gets herself stuck in the tree. Fortunately, a certain 'Good Samaritan' known for helping strays just happened to be passing by… tags/warnings: lighthearted, slice of life, flirty banter, developing relationship, silly sweet shenanigans in the style of some Tender Moments. a/n: This was my first little lads fic, technically a one-shot that could have a future follow-up but I don't have anything in mind for it atm. Mid-point in the slow burn, definitely before Grassland Romance & Wander in Wonder. P.S. I forbid any use of my writing in any form of generative or AI training.

(ao3 link)

“Sylus!” Against all odds and reason, she couldn’t stop herself from a thrill of excitement and relief seeing that familiar face just happening to pass beneath her on the sidewalk.

An eyebrow arched as he stopped, lifted his sunglasses, and looked up.

“I’ve heard of cats getting stuck in trees, but this seems a little ridiculous, kitten.” The pointed emphasis on the pet name was particularly heavy-handed this time around. She sighed. Yeah, even amidst her relief she’d expected his teasing.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up…” she grumbled, awkwardly crouched among the branches of a tree in a street-side park, a tiny tabby tucked in the crook of one arm. 

“Care to explain?” 

“I… miscalculated.” Her face scrunched up and she hung her head. 

She had been sure she could extricate the little critter just fine on her own, but now that she was several feet in the air with the cat in her arms, she had to reconsider. It was behaving well enough, but by the look in its eye and the twitch in its tail, she couldn’t be sure it wouldn’t react unpredictably if she suddenly leapt or otherwise maneuvered down. She didn’t want it to hurt itself because of her. 

“I’m not sure this little guy is going to cooperate if I make any sudden movements.” 

“That sucks.” He drawled with faux sympathy, replacing his sunglasses and moving to leave. “Well, good luck with that.”

“Wait! Come on! I know you’re not that heartless! Can you really leave a-...” she pursed her lips, swallowed her pride, and then did her best to put the most pathetic pair of puppy eyes on she could muster. “-Two adorable kittens to their sad fate?”

Sylus choked out a single bark of laughter, looking insufferably smug as ever. 

“All right, all right.” He shook his head in amusement, taking a few steps closer to position himself beneath her. “But I have one condition.” 

“Don’t agree and then tack on favors!” She scolded, and then was painfully, keenly aware she did sound a bit like a hissing cat.

“If a kitten needs saving, shouldn’t it be making cute little sounds so someone will come help it?” He ignored her. And of course he went and said something ridiculous. She felt the corner of her mouth twitch.

Deep down, she was pretty sure he’d help her even if she refused. Or she could even propose a different deal, and in her experience he was typically pretty lenient with her… But in this situation, nothing was coming to mind. 

“...Are you sure about that? That’s what you want?” When had she ever ‘meowed’ in her life? 

He folded his arms and tilted his head. “What? Is the Kitty Queen incapable of mastering her own native language?” 

She sighed and shook her head. “All right, you asked for it…” Clearing her throat, she took in a deep breath through the nose. A meow. A cute, small sound that tugged at the heartstrings. 

“Me- meow~!” It started strong! But then her voice cracked and it sounded a bit like she had a hairball stuck in the back of her throat. Or a cat in heat. She clapped her free hand over her mouth in vehement, physical, knee-jerk denial such a sound had left her mouth.

Sylus just laughed, and even as her face burned with embarrassment, she could hear the warmth in it, rather than sounding particularly mean-spirited. 

“Oh, that was very cute.” He lifted his arms up. “All right, I’m compelled. Hop down and I’ll catch you.” 

She groaned quietly to herself, but took careful hold of the cat in both of her arms. This way she could focus on keeping the cat restrained instead of how best to land. 

Funny, actually, the complete faith she had that Sylus wouldn’t let them get hurt. She’d suspected him many times in the past of trying to deceive or otherwise mislead her, but as he said: when he made a promise, he always followed through.

So while she did her best to angle herself towards him, she otherwise didn’t hesitate to take the leap. She was hardly surprised when, in an instant, dark energy wrapped its tendrils around her waist, significantly slowing her fall to almost nothing. Though once she was in reach they dissipated, replaced by his hands on her hips, effortlessly lowering her down to the ground.

For all of her concerns, the cat in her arms didn’t seem to so much as bat an eye. It mewled softly -and unquestionably adorable- as if saying thanks. 

“And now the kittens are safely returned to terra firma.” His hands withdrew, but instead he lifted one to pet her hair like one would a cat. “Try not to repeat the same mistake, hm?” 

“I don’t see the problem,” she said, brushing his hand off. “You could use all the help you can get stocking up on good deeds to balance your scales.”

He scoffed, and started to say something, but the real cat had expended all of its patience and began twisting and squirming around. Quickly she knelt down to release it, watching as the furry little critter bounded off and disappeared into some bushes. 

“Aw… I wonder if it lives around here. It seemed pretty young.” 

“Young and feisty. Smart, too.” Sylus mused, his eyes glinting with mirth as he looked at her. “Definitely sounds familiar.” 

Denying him for the millionth time seemed pointless. At this juncture she was more or less resigning herself to her fate. There were worse things than being a cat, she supposed.

“Not sure how smart either of us were getting stuck in a tree,” she mumbled, brushing off the fur she’d accumulated on her shirt as she stood up.

“It was smart enough not to scratch the hand that helped it.” He shrugged. She narrowed her eyes at him - and then mimed a scratching gesture, hooking her fingers like claws.

“Just like I haven’t scratched you yet?” Was what he was getting at. He just chuckled, idly rubbing his thumb over the pads of his other fingers. 

“I believe the emphasis there is on ‘yet’.” 

She recalled that he had a habit of caring for stray cats, though. And a habit of getting scratched to ribbons for his trouble. As well as a habit of never holding a grudge against them…

“It’d be worth it regardless,” he went on to say, tucking his hand in his pocket as his gaze leveled on her. “I got to witness a truly fascinating new side of you.” 

Of course he wasn’t going to drop that, was he? She huffed and folded her arms over her chest. 

“Being cutesy isn’t exactly my forte. You should be more grateful for the rare opportunity.” 

For a second he looked genuinely bewildered, and she didn’t think it was because of the second thing she’d said. But if she’d blinked she would have missed it, because it was quickly replaced by that subtle arch of his brow and less-subtle smirk. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I find you cute plenty of the time.”

“You have a delightful way of making that sound uncomplimentary.” She could feel her glower deepen - along with the wrinkles between her brow. 

“Another astonishing misunderstanding.”

Even if she accepted that he was being honest, she didn’t want to really reconsider what that meant at the moment. Instead she dropped her arms along with her bristly attitude and exhaled, letting ease overtake her. She was truly grateful for his help, after all. 

“Anyway, thank you for the assist. It’s still a bit early for you, though, isn’t it?” She cast a brief glance at the sky; the sun would be going down before long, but it was still fairly bright for him to be strolling around Linkon. “I suppose you had business here?”

“I did, but it’s all wrapped up now.” 

“I’m sure I’ll be hearing about it on the evening news,” she sighed. But how warped was she becoming by association with him, that there was a tell-tale bit of amusement in her tone she simply could not deny? 

She might have still had plenty of reservations about him, but at least in her limited experience, most of his enemies were criminals of the worst caliber. There was no way she could quite define him as a ‘vigilante’, but there had yet to be an instance where she felt the people he dealt with were particularly deserving of pity.

“And what about you? You’re not in your hunters uniform. Are you such an altruist you spend your days off looking for more good deeds to hang on your scales?” 

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I was just heading out to get an early dinner, when I heard cute little sounds begging for help.”

He didn’t quite laugh, but gave a low, breathy exhale that came close. 

“I was also just about to get a bite to eat,” he said, his tone shifting ever-so-slightly. A hint of gentleness crept in through the cracks, a subtle sweetness that never failed to entice her. “Would you care to join me?” 

It was a little distressing to realize how quickly she felt inclined to accept his offer. Which felt directly correlative to how much she wanted to spend more time with him. Which was borderline humiliating. The more her heart sang, the more she wanted to shove a pillow over it and press down until it stopped.

She tried to make a show of giving an exasperated huff, but it trembled pathetically on the way out as if betraying her. Still she stuck to her very stubborn guns and said: “You could have used that as your bargaining chip to get me down instead of making me meow.”

“I’ll admit the thought did cross my mind… But that wouldn’t be much better than coercion, now, would it, kitten?” 

Her lips tightened into a thin line. “I suppose. Maybe.” 

The real question was: Would she have minded? But the fact he cared enough not to use such ‘underhanded’ methods only made her singing heart that much more exuberant.

“What were you thinking? That sandwich shop nearby?” He offered his arm to her not unlike he had at the auction. For a split second she was bewildered by the fact he had psychically divined her destination - then she remembered this was Sylus, and rounded back on the fact he was just cruising ahead again.

“I didn’t even agree to anything.” It sounded like such a pathetically empty resistance. Because it was, and it had been from the moment he asked.

“Maybe not out loud, but… Didn’t you already make up your mind?”

“Aughh…” She hooked her arm around his. She really didn’t have to do that either, did she? And yet he seemed so finely tuned to knowing exactly what she really wanted, deep down. 

“Okay, but how did you know about Benny’s?” 

“It was just a guess. You like sandwiches,” he said as matter-of-factly as if it were common knowledge, “and when I looked earlier, the ratings I saw would suggest it’s the only place in this area that would make it worth coming this far from your apartment.”

Yeah, that level of calculation sounded like him. Well, she knew a thing or two about him, too!

“Sounds like you’ve never been there, then. Their slow-cooker French dip is one of my go-to’s, I think it’d be right up your alley.” She said with no lack of confidence, enthusiasm beginning to bubble over. “But they’ve got their seasonal apple cider pulled pork right now I’m dying to check out.”

“Hmm, those do sound good,” he nodded, shooting her a grin. “Should we go splitsies?” 

She snorted and laughed, hearing him say things like that always caught her off-guard in the best way, and he seemed to know it. 

“I thought you didn’t like to share. I seem to remember a greedy crow who complained whenever I tried his food before.”

“There’s a key difference between sharing and stealing.” 

She couldn’t stop herself from a mischievous little giggle remembering the look on his face when he’d gone for his last dumpling and found it mysteriously vanished.

He leaned towards her a little, lowering his voice, his breath brushing her ear. “But I suppose… we don’t need to worry about such distinctions between us anymore.” 

Rather than bend away, she turned her face towards him, drinking in his closeness. “How benevolent of you.” 

He laughed and straightened up, and she tried not to be too disappointed. 

“You’re the only one who would say that about me.”

“I’m just calling it like I see it.” She shrugged one shoulder. “But I’m fine being the primary recipient of your benevolence, too.” Grinning up at him, she lifted her free hand to poke his cheek. “Especially if that means I can rope you into a few good deeds here and there.”

He gave her a brief glare for the poke, but it was almost hilariously short lived and as paper thin as her resistance earlier had been. How was she supposed to just ignore that? 

“So that’s your angle? Course correcting me onto the straight and narrow?” 

“Hmm…” Considering it briefly, she probably would have said yes before. But now? It was less about that than she found herself worrying for his safety. “I think I’d be happier if you maybe had fewer people trying to kill you at any given time.”

“That would be quite the list… And who was it that once sat at the top of it, I wonder?” He flashed a ruthless grin. Her expression immediately soured as she nudged her shoulder into him.

“Are you ever going to drop that?”

“Well, I still haven’t heard a sincere apology, sweetie.”

“And now definitely isn’t the time for it, either.” She mumbled, feeling the heat of embarrassment along her cheeks and the tops of her ears. Still she gave her all in shifting the subject by making a sweeping gesture of her free hand to the building in front of them, cheering enthusiastically. “Because we have arrived! Time to eat!”

“Haha, how convenient for you. All right, then.” 

Benevolent once again, he did indeed drop it as they made their way into the restaurant. But he wasn’t wrong, and she knew it. For something like that though, all of the rage, hatred, and vengeance she’d pinned on him… A simple apology wouldn’t do. 

She was going to have to think of something, some way she could truly show how sincere she was, and paying for sandwiches wasn’t going to cut it. In truth, she didn’t think he cared much about whether she went to extreme lengths, but the real guilt she felt over it wouldn’t be assuaged by half-hearted measures. She needed to really think of how she could make it up to him, even if he didn’t truly seem to hold any grudge against her - like all the strays that had lashed out at him before.

[cherimoyatea]

The LaDs Men healing your inner child...

...they accidentally evoke your insecurities and comfort you.

❧ Part II - Rafayel - Tears & Tenderness

Pairing: Rafayel x You Synopsis: A playful banter goes wrong when Rafayel chooses the wrong words. Word Count: 820 Tags: rafayel doesn't want to snacked, banter gone wrong, bullying, tears, fluff, romance, comfort Side Notes: Part II of the mini-series! This time, we carry the trauma of having faced bullying, but we also find plenty of comfort in our beloved fishy. Similar to last time, I refrained from going into too much detail on the subject and instead provided hints to avoid any potential triggers. Oh and I bet he does taste yummy, but that's a plot for another day! Anyway enjoy! 🩷✨ ❧ Part I - Xavier ❧ Part III - Zayne ❧ Part IV Sylus

''Excuse you, Miss Hunter!'' Rafayel quickens his pace as you playfully pinch his cheek, turning his head to the other side to escape your teasing. ''Oh, come on, Raf, just a little bite—I'm staaarving!'' You easily catch up to him and tug at his sleeve, admiring his flushed face, which you find so endearing.

It's been hours since you took a wrong turn during your trip, and now you're trying to find your way back to the hotel while walking through the picturesque landscape. Rafayel grimaces as your stomach growls again, still horrified by the suggestion you made earlier. ''No, MC! You can't munch on me! Even if you ask a hundred more times, the answer is always NO!''

Pretending to pout, you stifle a laugh at his reaction. Of course, you don't actually intend to do that, but getting a flustered response from your boyfriend is too much fun. You let go of his arm and continue walking beside him, an amused glint in your eyes. ''Fine, forget that! I bet you don't taste as good as your fish friends anyway.''

The merman scoffs at your words, raising an eyebrow as he tries to ignore your teasing gaze. He knows you're just trying to get a reaction out of him, so he decides to play along.

''Oh, yeah? Maybe I should just return to the ocean where I'm not being bullied then!'' He responds, his cheeks and ears turning a shade pinker as he walks. ''Is that what you want? For me to pretend you don't exist, just like those losers did?''

He turns his head to see your reaction, and his grin immediately falters when he notices the frown that has appeared on your face, suddenly aware of his mistake.

Ouch. That hurt.

''Why would you say that?'' You glance at your partner as a tiny knot forms in your throat, questioning his words. He had just casually thrown them at you without a second thought and now he is taken aback by your sudden change in demeanor. Rafayel's heart aches at the sight of the tears slowly welling up in the bright eyes he loves so much, and he immediately regrets his poor choice of words. He should have known better.

''You know how much this triggers me, Raf. How could you say something like that?'' You hear your voice tremble slightly as you try to maintain your composure, your steps slowing until you come to a halt. No. Rafayel would never intentionally hurt you, but his words have stirred up memories within you—memories you thought you had left behind.

Now, they come crashing over you painfully, and that familiar feeling of helplessness threatens to overwhelm your senses.

The artist straightens his back, his gaze locked on you with growing concern, reflected in his pink-blue eyes. He had no idea that the simple remark he made teasingly would get under your skin, and he feels terrible for it. How could he have missed that you were still hurting even after all these years?

''I'm sorry, Cutie. Hey... please look at me.''

He gently turns you toward him, his hands resting on your shoulders. He can't help but notice the hurt in your expression and silently curses himself for being the cause of it. ''I'm a fool for saying that... please... don't you ever think for a second that I would want that, Sweetheart.''

Tears roll down your flushed cheeks as you try to form coherent words from your trembling lips. The memories spin cruel, vibrant images in your mind and you try to shake them off somehow. Just moments ago, the mood was so light, and now you feel guilty for ruining it. ''It's not your fault, Rafayel... I just... it hurts...''

Rafayel nods understandingly as you struggle for words, his eyes watching you intently.

He has waited so long to meet you, his beloved bride. All he wants is your happiness, and the mere thought of you being distressed devastates him. He would do anything to ease your pain, erase your painful memories—even ignite his flames and set himself on fire if it could bring light and warmth during your darkest times.

''I know and it’s not fair, but what happened to you wasn't your fault—none of it. You've always been nothing but perfect, and you didn't deserve to be treated like that.'' Rafayel's hands move from your trembling shoulders to your cheeks, wiping away your tears with his slender fingers as his expression softens. ''And I will burn anyone to ashes who dares to say otherwise, alright?''

The beautiful Lemurian looks at you as if you are the only precious thing in this vast, ruthless world, and his tender eyes seem to seep into the cracks of your hurting soul.

''Please, can I see your smile? Let me see that beautiful smile of yours, so I can engrave it on the canvas of my eyes.''

Thank you for reading! Cheri 🍒 Updated Nov. 20th: Added links to the other parts + fixed formatting.

[briefalpacashark]

~A little brawl~

You decide to show case a bit of your skill to stamp out the ego of a new solider. And you get in trouble.

================================================

You and your team were posted to some random desert somewhere to complete a mission. Having already done so you were gifted with a few days of rest before your transport back home arrived. Price was loving the time off reclined in a dingy old fold out chair that looked on the verge of breaking. A cigar pinched between his teeth and a cold beer in the other hand. His hat sat over his face.

“Working hard or hardly working?” You asked with a grin walking up to him a pile of reports tucked under your arm. 

“Can't you tell?” he asked gesturing to himself. 

“Medical reports you were after,” with a grunt he sat up taking the reports from you.

“So how are the boys?” he asked.

“Honestly don't know how long you guys survived without a medic,” you shock your head in bewilderment. 

“Where are they anyway, haven't seen em all morning,” you said.

“Oh, the little shites are playing with their new friends,” he jabbed his chin across the ways where a small group of soldiers had formed. Once you had finished business with Price you walked over, interested in whatever was happening. Spotting Ghost a head taller than the rest you made your way to his side. The acknowledgment that you had arrived was simply a sideways glance.

“What's going on here?” You asked as your eyes settled on a makeshift ring, its outline defined by a stray circle of rope set on the ground. A ring where Gaz currently was getting his ass handed to him. Your grimaced as his opponent landed a powerful hit. On the other side of the ring stood the team you had been working alongside. A group of grad A assholes.  An American team.

“Wanna place a bet?” Soap asked taking a sip of his beer stepping up to your other side.

“I hate to be honest, but Gaz doesn't look like he'll win this fight,” You chuckled under your breath.

“Oh we khen that. We bettin on how long he’ll last,” Soap stated with a grin. All your attention was brought back to the ring when the fight ended with basically a knockout. Money was passed around as you and the boys slipped into the ring helping Gaz to his feet and gently hauling him out. Sitting him down you tried to hide your smirk as you woke him up with a few gentle slaps on the cheek.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You just got ya ass handed to ya by an American,” Soap was far to entertained by the fact. 

“Follow my finger,” You ordered Gaz checking for a concussion. 

"Alright aright come on my turn," a young cocky bloke from the other term stepped into the make shift ring. He had been a constant annoying fly that seemed to hand around you. You had politely declined his advances. More than once. You though he got the point, after all he had left you alone for a bit.

"Come on Jimmy!" his squad encouraged him. Jimmy was his name.

"Whos it gonna be?” the soldiers all asked. 

"How about the bitch of 141?" he asked nodding to you. Your teams smiling faces dropped as the atmosphere did a one sixty. You pressed your lips together. 

“I'm good thanks,” you waved dismissively. 

“Huh, that's fine. What can you expect from you lot anyway,” he chuckled. You lot? The insult was weak, but it was there.

"Watch your mouth private," Soap's tone showed how quickly his patience for the other squad was becoming.

“Fuck off Pom, or come settle it in the ring,” Jimmy was a cocky young bloke. And little was known about the 141. so, he didn't really understand what he was offering. Well, the severity of it.

“Pom!?” Soap exclaimed in shock. Calling a Scots man British was just about the worst thing you could do. At that very moment Soap looked like he was about to rip the head of the poor lad.

“You know what, why not?’ you asked cheerfully patting Soaps shoulder as you passed him, gently pushing his back to Ghost.

“Look out, her she comes. Anybody got a set of gloves on them. Wouldn't want to catch whatever she's spreading. After all her teammates seem very fond of her,” You wondered where he got to gal of it all. Possibly little dog syndrome.

“Hey man, for your own benefit I would shut the fuck up,” Gaz words of wisdom were swept to the side. Unacknowledged by the confident young solider.

"What you got what she got?" he smriked.

Soap took a step forward only to be stopped when you held out your arm to stop him.

“Come on Soap. Rember what Price said. We need to play nice with the little new soldiers,” the team was barely out of training. It was maybe there third real mission. And Price had told you all to behave.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Soap asked with a little hit of worry as he glared down Jimmy. 

"I can look after myself Jonny. Plus, someone's gotta curve this kids' ego," you joked unbuttoning your outer shirt.

"You have faith in me right Ghost?" you asked half jokingly.

"Haven't see it personally but I believe you could take me down. So this fucker aint got a chance," he shrugged simply his tone serious. You propped an eyebrow at him. You didn't know he felt that way. You were sort of chuffed. After all Ghost was good in a hand to hand combat situation.

"Wow Ghost, didn't know you felt that way about me," You joked with a wink. You didn't stay to see his reaction as you stepped into the ring those watching letting out cheers. 

"Looks like your used to that," Jimmy muttered as you undressed your outer layer, his eyes resting shamelessly on your chest.

"What are the rules?" you asked shaking your jacket off. Everyone was surprised at the amount of muscle you had. Your frame was small but toned. Plus your team had never really seen your body. Soap let out an impressed whistle at your bear arms.

"Everything goes. No one kills and you tap out when you're done," Jimmy said rising his fists as he smirked.

"What about breaking bones?" you asked throwing your jacket to the side and rolling your shoulders. Your opponent was slightly put off with how calm you were.

"I don't know about breaking, but I've sure got one bone for you,” he winked his statement earning chuckles from his team. You looked your opponent up and down, he was pretty, but not your type. 

“I'm flattered but I don't have my magnifying glass on me right now,” This time your own team chuckled. You smirked slightly reaching behind you to take your phone out of your pocket. You had looked down to find a place to throw it. An explosion of pain snapped to your right cheek sending you stumbling. 

“Slut,” You straightened up feeling the coppery taste fill your mouth. He had punched you; he hadn't waited till the little bell had rung. A deep chuckle left you lips as you gathered the blood in your mouth and spit it to the side. Slut, you hated that word.

“The fuck was that!” Soap yelled in anger only being held back by Ghost. Why, because he had full confidence in what you were about to do.

“We hadn't started yet,” you chuckled rage bubbling inside you.

“Everything goes,” he shugged.

“Yeah, everything goes,” you nodded. Now you were a calm person, you were reasonable and rational. But the guy in front of you was cocky. And you so wanted to repay his for every unwanted advance he put forth.

You stalked forward your eyes narrowing in at him, then as you stepped right up to him you let lose. It was so quick he was barely able to throw up a block. Your fist cracked into his nose with such precision and speed that he fell back onto his ass. In a daze he stumbled back to his feet as you shock out your hand. He had a hard head. 

“Get em Love!” Soap cheered for you.

He threw a wild hay maker to which you simply ducked under. Delivering another punch you aimed for his kidney. The hit crippled him, he fell to one knee. Taking his head in hand you brought it down onto your knee. You weren't a violent person, but you knew how to end a fight quickly. After all it was those skill that kept you alive. And while you never took any pleasure in it you felt a slight tingle of satisfaction.

Pushing him back you gave him a minute to breathe through the daze.

“Tapping out?” You asked. He looked like he wanted to. His anger flared at the sympathetic look you gave him. At how quickly you had managed to beat him. And how pathetic he looked because of it.

“To a slut like you?” he asked stabling to his feet. He was in no position to fight. You almost felt bad for what you had done.

“Come on mate, you can barely stand. Let's call it a day yeah?” you were happy to keep going, but you were actually worried for the boy now. 

“Fuck you,” he seethed. Your forced a smile.

“Well then I'm tapping out,” you said tapping your thigh. You didn't want to continue, and you thought that would be the end of it. So, you turned your back to them. So, you didn't see the coward punch Jimmy threw. You didn't see it heading for your head. What you did see was a mass of black crowd your vision. Ghost had appeared Infront of you. You frowned as his arm shoot past your head, seeming to catch something. At the quick movement you jerked around following his arm to see he had caught the punch inches from your head. In one swift movement Ghost had swept you behind him as he twisted the man hand in painful position.

“Now that was just plane stupid,” Ghost stated as Jimmy cried out dropping to his knees at the pressure. In an instant both squads were at each others throats, yelling and throwing insults.

“You alright love?” Ghost voice broke through the commotion as he back over his shoulder at you while he still held the man in the hand lock.

“Y-Yeah,” you nodded.

“Keep your bitch on a leash!” Someone from the other team yelled. 

“I'll put ye in a leash!” Soap snapped. Thats all that was needed. After that all hell broke loose.

So, there you sat. back in your own base tent that you shared with the boys. You were all lined up in a row. You and Soap sat in the middle the widest grins on your busted up faces. The insults throw quickly resulted in a brawl. One you had originally tried to break up before getting caught up in it. Ghost sat on the other side of you, his mask covering some of the hits he took. Gaz sat on the other side of Soap shaking his head at the two of you. 

Price stood in front of you all an angry expression on his face. 

Do you remember in school when you would look at your best friend and just randomly start laughing. Well, that's what happened to you when you peeked at Soap out the corner of your eye. You both broke out into laugher that sounded strangled as you tried to keep it in.

“I can't even leave you unsupervised for one fucking second,” Price pinched the bridge of his nose.

“They started it,” Soap interjected.

“Shut up,” Price snapped. Soap ducked his head his smirk widening.

“He tried to get her when her back was turned,” Ghost stated nodding down to you.

“Well, still did you have to beat the shit out of them?” Price words brought proud smirks to all your faces. Compared to the four of you the other team looked to be just out of commission. In the end you all delt worse than you were given.

“They were talking shit. Had to set them straight,” Gaz explained with a shrug.

“I understand that, but all I'm asking for is a little self-control. I mean who put that lads head through that brick wall?” Price put and emphasis on the word brick. You all turned to Ghost who had personally express delivered Jimmy's head to the other side of the wall. Under the attention Ghost simply shrugged and looked away. 

“You're all on tent arrest,” Price declared. You all groaned and began to protest slightly. 

“Enough!” he snapped.

“This is what happens. When you misbehave you get privileges taken away,” You and Soap once again tried to hold back your laughter. It was like he was scolding a group of toddlers.

“And your two smart asses are on clean up duty,” he declared pointing to the two of you.

“Ha,” Gaz chuckled.

“Fucking kids,” Price grumbled as he walked away. There were a few moments of silence as you all came to terms with the consequences you faced.

“That was defiantly worth it,” you stated.

"Defiantly," - Gaz

"Fuck yeah," - Soap

"Should have done worse," - Ghost.

Another moment of silence passed around you before you all chuckled softly. You could even see Ghost shoulder shake slightly. You looked up to him with a thankful smile.

"Thank you," you whispered. To your utter shock and bewilderment he glanced down at you.

AND WINKED!

"Anytime love," he stated before getting up and walking away. Leaving you to wonder if what you had seen was an illusion or not.

================================================

--COD Master List Here--

================================================

[zaynescitizen]

How do you think what could be the kinks of LnDS boys? 😏😏😏

I had fun writing that but oh my god I was STRUGGLING with Xavier, and I had to hold myself back with Sylus because in my eyes he is an absolute whore🎀. For Rafayel and Xavier I think it ended up being quite poorly written but I genuinely couldn't think of anything more than that, so I do apologise.

-Issa

(English is not my first language so there is a high chance of grammar mistakes. If you come across any please point them out and any and all constructive criticism is welcomed)

content warning: NSFW, different kinks and slight descriptions of them (I never know how to write the CW </3 let me know if I should add any specific ones)

Word count: 671

Characters: Zayne, Sylus, Rafayel, Xavier

Lads and kinks:

In general:

-Starting off I don't feel like any of them have those extreme kinks except maybe Stylus but that is speculating purely off of his card (no defense zone, unfortunately, that is one of two cards 5 star I have of him). I don't think I can genuinely place them from most to least kinky since all of them are on about the same level of it, some a bit more some bit less but overall on the same frequency

Zayne:

-Breast worship, and I will die on this hill. He loves your chest. Coming home after a long day of surgeries he wants nothing more than to play with your breasts or sleep on them. The amount of hickeys he leaves there is abnormal.

-Praise, he loves both giving and receiving paise. Burying his face in your neck while ramming into you, telling you how well you're taking him and how good it feels

-I don't know if this would count as a kink but seeing you ride him makes him near feral, his hands resting on your hips with a tight grip, helping you move over his length.

-Spanking, he loves spanking you as a form of punishment, though he doesn't go overboard and makes sure you are fine with it and are doing alright.

Sylus:

-Accidental stimulation, except it's not accidental and he loves riding you up during auctions he finds boring or when it's least necessary. Seeing you squirm and try to calm down brings him joy and entertainment.

-Sensory deprivation, he loves tying you up and blindfolding you, giving him great ego boost since he takes it as a sign of trust, and the way you react to every touch and kiss makes him lose his mind

-Breathplay, same as the previous, he takes it as a sign of trust and the visual gets him off. Squeezing your throat just enough to make it hard to breathe, but not doing any actual damage

-Begging, another ego boost. The fact that he makes you feel so good that you are begging for him is a dream come true

-Spanking, if you were being bratty he will gladly put you in your place, whether with the palm of his hand or a riding crop

Rafayel:

-This man is a brat and you can't deny it no matter how hard you try.

-Begging, he begs you so sweetly while moving in and out of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, pressing kisses and giving lovebites while trying not to lose it completely

-Bondage, either tying you up or being tied up himself. He loves it.

-Lingerie, he loves seeing you in such pretty yet revealing sad excuses of clothes. He doesn't know whether to take you right then and there or to draw you.

-Temperature play, his evol is fire, he will use that to his advantage and warm you up in all the right place, though for cooling down he will have to use ice cubes

Xavier:

-I think Xavier is the least kinky of them all. After being alive for so long I think he does enjoy more casual vanilla settings, but that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy something more from time to time

-I genuinely can't think of a single kink for this man, which is disappointing. He has them, but I can't pinpoint which ones.

-One I can definitely see him in is restriction/bondage, holding your arms pinned up against the bed or behind your back while rutting into you like a dog in heat

-Again, not sure if this counts as a kink but he loves giving you oral. He could do it all day, every day, anywhere, everywhere, on every surface, in every position… you get the point. He loves it.

-Cockwarming, sometimes he just wants be be close to you, inside you, but is simply too tired. Especially after a hard mission. Lying in bed with him, filled up and on the verge of falling asleep in his arms

[writingoddess1125]

Poly or just 3 some vibe swith shanks and Mihawk?? I just feel that power imbalance would be addictiveee

Oh This is what I live for Love! You got it!

MWAHAHAHAHHAHAH

Shanks X young!Reader(mid 20's) X Mihawk

Warning: Sexual Themes, Threesome vibes, Sex, Unprotected sex, Eiffel Tower ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Tag You're It

You stood there at the bar looking at your few regulars as you spaced out. It was a slow night, almost like every night. Your village was too small and too secluded to get any real traffic. If it wasn't for a few months ago it would have closed- not for a certain pirate crew then it would have defiently closed their doors.

Speaking of which- the door busted open with a fairly dramatic flare. As if summoned by your thoughts there stood the entirety of the Red Haired Pirates, cheeks already flushes with alcohol it seemed.

"Good Evening Mr. Shanks! Glad to see you back" You smile cheerfully at him, He would often come to the bar when he ran out of his monthly supply on his Island next door. Him and his crew were very nice, paired with the fact they always payed very well.

"Good Evening to you (Y/N)! Please bring out the best you have little one! It's a celebration!" It was no secret that Shanks had been eyeing you for the months he had been stopping by, How his eyes would linger on your form a bit more then most- How his gaze would track you as you moved through the bar.

"A celebration?" You asked innocently as he held up a wanted poster proudly. A dark brooding figure Stepping in behind him, looking a bit irritated to he there, even as his gaze settled on you.

"Yep! My Lad Luffy got his first bounty and is now a Pirate! Paired with my good Pal here Mihawk is here for a visit!"

"Well in that case I'll pull out the best!" You said cheerfully waving at your co-workers to bring our the large crates of rum and ale for them.

As the liquor was poured you saw Shanks and Mihawk quietly talking- Their eyes locked onto you as they stared at you, watching every move you did. Which made your cheeks heat up dramatically. After a few moments of this and the bar coming to life with loud music you ended up grabbing a drink as well.

This seemed to drawn Mihawk over, his form shadowing yours. "Is it wise for you to drink?" He cautioned a brow, making you feel a bit flustered by both his accent and eyes.

"It's fine, it's not like anyone here would hurt me" You say softly, Waving your hand dismissively. His lips curving to a slight smirk at this-

"I don't think hurting you is what they would have in mind" Oh your face was bright red now- especially with the purr in his tone and look in his eye-

"W-Well if they asked I wouldn't be opposed I'm sure-" You manage to squeak out, drawing his gaze in. Before he gestured you to follow him, which you obediently did. Returning to his seat next to Shanks he pulled you to his lap which made your face crimson- The red head smiling at the sight.

"Didn't know all I had to do was smile to bring you over finally" He teased, Gesturing to yourself seated on his peers lap. You took another sip of your drink and shyly shrugged

"As I say, ask and you shall receive Shanks. Number one rule here" You quip back which earns a noise from Mihawk- seemingly a chuckle.

"Well if that's the case. Me and my friend here, both would love to take you out for the evening, to get to know you better. But you'd have to choose my dear"

"I-I wouldn't be able to choose-" You admit shyly, Looking between the two of you. Shanks laughing loudly at this as he bit his lip.

"What about both of us?" He chimed, something in his eyes made tour stomach warm. Maybe it was the underlying danger or the arousal but yoh nodded.

"Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt- It's a celebration afterall" You blushed, drinking more of the rum in your glass. The alcohol making your head buzz and warmth filled your body.

Mihawk squeezed your thigh as you were still seated on his lap.

"Deplorable as usual-" Mihawk grumbled, but his gaze did fall to you as you sat there blushing in-between the two men. His golden eyes practically staring through your soul, reaching forward and taking a peice of your hair in his hands and messing with it- Like he was trying to decide to go through with it. Once your big beautiful eyes settled on his, he sighed almost defeatedly.

"But I suppose a bit of sharing wouldn't be the worse" He said softly. Shanks smiling widely as he heard this and gave a proud laugh. Patting Mihawk shoulder in joy.

Shanks was the first to stand, pulling you up to your feet. Mihawks hand on the small of your back and lead you out of the bar and towards the inn. Mihawk tossing down some berry and guided you up to the given room.

Author Note!: ⚠️ Final Warning ⚠️ Once you go past this line. THERE IS NO RETURN! ITS ABOUT TO GET INFERNO SPICY- 18+ ultra mature!

Shanks and Mihawk stood on either side of you. Shanks was the first one to kiss you, it was gentle at first sweet even. It wasn't till you felt a tug on your blouse that the sweet kiss was broke, feeling him pull off your blouse as you felt your pants fall down to the floor. Realizing Mihawk had taken the time to undo them, along with your bra as Shanks smiled and pulled down your underwear. Blushing you felt a push as you fell onto the bed behind you.

You were laid there on the soft comforters of the local Inns bed, Blushing as the warm lights of the lanterns barely lit the room. But you could make out the two men staring at you like you were fresh prey infront of two hungry carnivores.

"How shall we go about this Hawkeye? Maybe a good game of tag?" Shanks said with a wicked smiled, Mihawk smirking as his gaze never left you and nodded.

Mihawk too the left while Shanks moved forward climbing into the bed with a grin as he found himself between your legs.

"He can't help but put everything in his mouth Darling" Mihawk said calmly playing with your hair as you moaned helplessly against his chest, Watching your face contort and shift from Shanks pleasurable torture. You could feel Shanks smirk between your legs as his mouth wrapped around your clit and sucked hard, crying out in pleasure as Mihawk captured your lips in a deep kiss. Wine filled your senses as you accepted the kiss, feeling him hungry mouth dominate your own.

Pulling away as Shanks pulled your hips with his arm, bringing your core closer as he seemed too lost in his meal to be concerned with the lost kiss between you and Hawkeye-

At being pulled down your face sliding down Mihawk's chest and to his waist, Blushing deeply as you laid infront of the Warlords tending pants. Mihawk smirking at your reaction as he gestured for you to proceed, not needing a cue you carefully undid his pants. Blushing as his large cock bounces out enthusiastically- opening your lips you took all of him in, Blushing at the feeling as he groaned above you.

You moaned as you bobbed your head up and down, the feeling of Shanks driving you to your upcoming orgasm, your legs starting to shake at Shanks talented mouth before he suddently pulled away. Chuckling at the whine you gave at the sensation even while Mihawk chuckled at you as well.

"Don't worry love~ I got something better~" You heard Shanks say sweetly. A shuffling of fallen clothes fell behind you as you felt Shanks hand rest on your hip and pulling you up to your knees while you chest still laid on the mattress before Mihawk.

Your thighs shake as you felt every inch of him slide into you, combined with still too high from his mouth earlier was just enough to cum right as he bottomed out. Moaning loudly against Mihawk cock and shaking.

"Aww~ She came just from me entering. So cute~" the Red head teased, making Mihawk even chuckle. Without time to even settle through your bliss you felt Ahanks hips start to move. Like a tidal wave, the shocked of ecstacy rushed through your body.

Shank hips started to sputter against you, still shaking from your previous orgasm that had your nerves on fire.

"You know I don't care for a mess Red Hair-" Mihawk grunted out, his pace quickening on your lips as you felt him hit the back of your throat, tears rolling down your cheeks as you felt Mihawk tughten his hold on your hair, pulling your lips as far down his member as possible as he came. Heat running down your throat as you felt Shanks pull out of you at the same time and spill on your back.

"Well done Darling~" Mihawk praised as he pulled himself from your mouth, smiling at the sight of you. Tears down your cheeks, lips red and bruised and panting. He pulled you up once more, this time placing you against Shanks chest.

"Very nicely done~" Shanks purred out, praising you for your skills. You only gave a bubbling moan at the sweet praise and Mihawk hands kneading your chest, drawing out moans sweet moans from you. Feeling Mihawk place kisses down your neck in reward for your moans.

"Think you can last one more round for us Sweetheart?~" Shanks sweetly asked, nodding softly even if you mind was fuzzy from your pleasure.

It felt like a blur but suddently you where on your back, Mihawk in turn sliding into you. Your back arching at the sensation as you gasped, he was bigger- Somehow or it was just how sensitive you were. As you laid there gasping you felt Shank touch your shoulder looking up as you saw his already hardened member before your lips, accepting him you felt him thrust into your mouth.

You felt your body bounce with each powerful thrust, sending Shank's cock deeper past your bruised lips. Another hard orgasm already building in your stomach as you felt Mihawk's relentless hips slam against your form,

A muffled cry left your sore throat as you felt warmth flood your mouth and core, spots scattered in your vision as you heard the muffled pants and groans of the two above you.

Mihawk was the first to pull out of you, his large hands securing you as Shanks did the same making cold air filling your lungs. Both men working gently to clean you up, whispering praise at you as they did so. Mihawk laying you down first on the cleanest part of the bed and covering your tired form in a blanket. You felt your eyes close, too tired to open them again as sleep was already starting to take over your form.

"We must share her once again" Shanks whispered, pushing some of your hair from your face. Carefully holding your waist with his hand. You could feel Mihawk nod in agreement as he settled you on his broad chest.

"I can't disagree with that" Mihawk whispered before sleep finally claimed you.

[niiine]

Before my request I want you to know that I really love your works! Now can you please live up to your title and write a tooth aching fluff for Wanderer and Xiao (and Kazuha if possible) where they don't want to let go of the reader but she really needs to go home?

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘

Character(s). Scaramouche, Xiao, Kaedehara Kazuha, Venti

Synopsis. There will be times where it's hard to breathe and the world is insufferable. On those nights, they need you to stay.

Fluff

Short Drabble (esp. on Kazuha's part)

Soft Anemo boys because that's what they are.

Toothaching fluff they said. Live up to my title they said. Aren't toothaches supposed to hurt? hmph😤 Kidding. Thank you for the request!

Scaramouche

You woke up with a deathly grip around your waist, caging your body and preventing you from any further movement aside of slight head turns. Noticing the now darkening skies, you slightly tap the arms hugging your form, earning a silent grunt from your lover. “Love, I need to go”.

“No.” You deadpanned at his response, not really entertained at how he easily dismissed your necessity. ”If my mother gets mad at me, I’m turning you in.” he nuzzles your nape and buried his face deeper, leading a sigh out of your lips.

“(y/n) you’re too loud.” You rolled your eyes, feeling a bit of panic touch your heart since you’d never really hear the end of it from your mother if you get home late again. Maneuvering your way around, you planted a kiss atop Scaramouche’s head, fingers swimming through his hair.

“I really need to go now” you whispered, careful not to disturb the comfortable silence that lingers in the room. Love and fondness vivid in your tone. “Stay the night”. You heard him say, his gentle digits dancing around the small of your back, signaling that the man is now fully awake.

“Please”

Your heart skipped a beat. Your boyfriend, Scaramouche, said please. You never knew that he was capable of uttering such word. But of course, such things are fleeting. Not even a minute has passed when the lad takes back what he said, gently, but oh so fast separate his body from yours— as if he’s not clinging to you for dear life a moment ago.

“Hah. Kidding. Stand up now and move before your mother decides to forbid you from going out again.” he huffs. Sitting up in the edge of the bed, his back facing you.

Your heart tugged a little. You know how he really feels. Sometimes his loneliness just became unbearable that he ended up reaching out to you, but then he’s scared of rejection that he rebutted the idea even before  your response.

You kneeled behind the darkhaired lad, taking him in the midst of your arms, hugging him from behind.

“Nah. It’s too late now. I can’t walk home alone” you breathed, and you feel his cheeks burn up.

“Fool. Of course, I’ll take you home”

“But I wanna stay” you peppered his neck with light kisses, and you feel his palms touching your arms, his demeanor softens a little as he rests against your touch. Because for real, rest only happens if you’re around.

“Fine, if you insist.”

You laughed at his words, tugging him so you can go back to bed. Your mom will understand.

“You just love me.”

“Shut up.

Xiao

The sunset peeks through he shades of leaves on the tree you’re currently sitting under. Your lover resting on your lap as you play with his hair, lean fingers soothing his whole body, almost lulling him to sleep.

“Love, I need to go.” You noticed how he stiffens a little, but there’s no verbal response as he keeps his eyes closed, indulging on your presence and touches.

“It’s getting dark” you’re face, adorned by the most gentle smile you could ever muster, contorts in amusement as the adeptus remains unbothered by your words. “I have to go home now”. The man stays still, trying, and vividly failing to fake his slumber.

With the response you’ve been wanting still nowhere to be found, you decided to call out his name, eager to gain any sort of response from the yaksha. “Adeptus Xiao”, you heard him grunt, and a fit of cute giggle escaped your lips. With his eyes still closed, he murmured a silent “(y/n), I’m trying to sleep”, and you tug at his hair playfully “And I’m trying to go home”

Another minute of silence before he speaks again, pointing out that it’s dangerous to go out since it’s already late so he’ll bring you home first thing tomorrow. You know what he wants— for you to stay the night, spend another couple of hours with him, feel your skin on his. It’s only when he’s with his debt isn’t as painful as it should be. Somehow— and he didn’t know how, don’t ask him, but when you’re around, everything is just bearable.

The lad opened his golden orbs, meeting yours, and you forgot all about the sunset because you’re now looking at the sun itself. He reaches out to your cheeks lovingly, saying the words he’s so reluctant to voice out, “(y/n), I want to rest tonight”.

If he could hear the beat of your heart you swear he’d be deaf. Xiao looks so ethereal and beautiful under you gaze, the back of his fingers moving across your cheeks as his innocent eyes begs for you to grant his desire. Your chest heaved at the fact that he wants you to stay for him to be able to rest.

You’re his rest.

You placed a kiss atop his forehead, urging him to go back to his long-forgotten slumber.

“Fine, I’ll be here when you wake up” you took his fingers in yours and hummed him a lullaby as he closes his eyes once again.

Kaedehara Kazuha

“I have to go, Kazu.”

“No”

“Kazuha”

“No”

“Kaedehara Kazuha”

“No.”

An exasperated sigh found its way out of your lips as Kazuha’s hug gets tighter. You can try and free yourself, but we all know it would be futile. His body caging yours as you sit, his head in the crook of your neck and arms securing your waist. This is a rare occurrence when it comes to the samurai. Usually, he’s calm and collected. Logic and you always coming first in his priority list instead of his own desires, but that’s never the case when he’s come home after a very long journey from who knows where.

The lad missed you so much he practically clung onto you the moment you met, earning a laugh and teasing from Beidou and the other crews.

“It’s been forever and now you want to leave me” he murmured against your neck and it tickles your skin, well, it’s not like he’s the only one who have missed someone. “I’m not leaving you, Kazu. I’ll be back by tomorrow. Promise” you fingers reach out for his hair and he hummed in the touch. Nah, he really can’t let go of you right now.

“No”

“I’ll give you lots of kisses if you let me go now.”

The offer seems like struck something on him and he contemplated a little before letting out another firm no with a shake of his head.

Accepting defeat, you maneuvered your body to face him and noticed how overjoyed he is as he hugged you tighter and whispers tons and tons of I miss yous and I love yous onto your ears.

It doesn’t take too long before your lover speaks innocently, “So, do I still get the kisses?”

Venti

“Venti…”

“Oh! Here’s another one…”

You watched as your boyfriend proceeds to sing another ballad for you, his voice sweet and tempting as he professed his feelings through music.

It would be lovely, really. In fact there’s nothing else you love as much as his songs and poems and proses, but the things is— if you’ve counted correctly, this one would be the 54th piece you’ve heard from the bard ever since you announced that you need to go home.

You heard him finished and you took the chance to speak before he starts another piece. “I know what you’re doing” you started, and he pouts. “Awee, you don’t like my songs Windblume?” he feigns hurt, but you’ve known him long enough to counter his playful antics.

“No, I love your every works, and voice, and anything, but Love, I really need to go” You reach out for his palms, earning to trace your love on the markings.

“And I can’t make you stay.” You heard him say as you play with his hands, eyes scrutinizing his features. Unusual blue present in his tender orbs. It’s a phrase rather than a question, as if accepting the fact that you will not concede.

“I’m sorry for taking too much of your time, can I walk you home now?”

Your heart tugged at his smile. It’s not his smile. Oh archons, you’ve known him long enough to counter his playful antics— but not this. As many times you’ve seen him breakdown and mourn, you heart still can’t handle the sight of a broken Venti.

“Unfair, you’re doing me dirty.”

You move towards him and placed your head on his chest, your arms on his middle as you speak. “You know how make me succumb to your wishes.”

He let out a quiet laugh, reciprocating your hug.

“No, I’m sorry. I just want to be with you longer.”

“Do you still want me to stay?”

“Always”

[callmelyc]

Lance had been missing for a month now and nothing gives any signs of where he could be.

Keith has searched everywhere to find any semblance of a trace but he can't even remember the mission they'd been on together.

All he has to go on are his dreams of Lance. Lance who will smile at him in those dreams but not speak, who is serene during Keith's turmoil.

Lance who just cups his face and mouths the words "it's ok, you know."

But he doesn't. Keith doesn't know and it's driving him insane.

He's been to countless planets, meetings, debriefs. Nothing. Not a drop of evidence for where Lance McClain could be. Yet when Keith goes to sleep at night he'll see Lances face behind his eyelids watching and waiting patiently as if he never left.

~•~

One night when Keith crashes from exhaustion something feels different. There's sound in his dream and a maze. He goes through every challenge, each asking after some form of mental gymnastics but it feels so important that Keith can't ignore doing them.

He's reached a standstill, one in the center of the maze, when he hears it. A laugh like early spring, bright and oh so airy.

Wind chimes gently accompany the laugh and the warmth of a sun encapsulates Keith's whole being. He follows like it's a sirens song only to find dream Lance waiting by a small lake that he'd never seen before.

"Took you long enough mullet."

Keith's breath catches in his throat "I can hear you..."

All lance does is smile at him in amusement, waving Keith closer as if everything is normal. As if anything about this whole thing is normal.

Keith kneels next to him, taking a hand and pulls it close to his chest "where are you Lance?"

Lances free hand comes up to gently cup Keith's cheek. His thumb running soothingly into the flesh "you know where I am."

"But I don't! I haven't been able to find you for weeks!"

Lances smile softens "I'm right where you left me sweetheart."

Before Keith can retort he's ripped from his dream and everything floods back. A mission, a planet with plants that fight back.

Vines and poison.

A demand that told Keith to go get help, he'd be fine just go get help Keith.

Keith flings himself out of their bed and he's rushing to black faster than he can think. He knows where Lance is and he won't leave him waiting anymore.

This time when Keith goes down to this planet he makes sure he wears undamaged armor. This time, he makes sure the team is on emergency standby. This time....this time he's on heavier guard.

They'd underestimated this planet last time and it got Lance caught because of it.

Coran ran some test with Pidge and determined the reason they'd forgotten was due to the poison the spores produced.

A defense mechanism he'd said, so that the victims of their earth could not be saved. They were unsure how quickly the plants could consume their victims but coran and Pidge said it was unlikely Lance was harmed thanks to his armor.

"At most he's asleep, at worse he has some abrasions. It seems like a slow solvent in the goo the plants produce to trap the victims. Sorta like Venus fly traps but vines."

"And the forgetting part?" Keith asks while chopping through vines.

"Seems like a way to confuse the things harming them in hopes they leave or stop fighting to be the next target. It probably didn't expect you to escape."

"But we all forgot this mission Pidge."

"That would be because you were covered in the spores lad! When you returned we all fell under it's influence."

Keith huffs, cutting through more of the vines.

"Not to worry, when you two return we'll make sure to run you both through decontamination. No forgetting allowed this time."

"Yeah yeah, just be on standby."

Before long he's retraced his steps right back to the clearing from before. The entire area is overwhelmed with tangled vibes, huge flowers, roots ready to spring up and trap you.

Keith treads carefully across the earth making sure to not wake anything before it's time to fight back. First things first, he needs to determine where Lance is.

He prys his fingers between vines to peek inside. Vine clump after vine clump and nothing. No signs of Lance, no signs that any of these could fit a body underneath.

Then he sees it, a streak of white and blue. It's almost easy to overlook it, buried in the dirt, but it's his helmet the same one that got pulled off his head and got him poisoned to begin with.

Keith rushes over as fast as he can manage with the delicate nature of his steps. Sure enough, underneath the mound of vines near the helmet is Lance.

He's cocooned inside the vines, tangled so tightly in them Keith is surprised he's breathing. There's only one chance here, Keith knows he has to be fast enough or neither will make it out they'll both end up in vines if he fails.

So he holds his blade right and slices deep into the vine cocoon. The moment theres an opening Keith can hear the hisses from the plants as they realize there's someone fighting back, but he ignores them and he pushes in to pull Lance free.

Lance is covered in thick slime, he's unconscious and unresponsive but Keith doesn't have time to try to get him to move. He throws lance over his shoulder and breaks into a run.

The escape is difficult with lances dead weight making it hard to dodge all the angry plants shooting up towards them but the second they're within blacks sight the lion scoops them up and shoots into space.

This time no one forgot anything. No one will forget Lance and this time, lance won't be just a dream.

~•~

It takes two weeks for Lance to wake up. Bodily he was unharmed but the amount of poison from the slime covering him had placed their red paladin into a coma.

Keith dutifully sat by his bedside as everyone tried to convince him he wasnt guilty for forgetting.

"You didn't know"

"but I left him there..."

"You didn't know, none of us did."

He'd make sure Lance ate Hunks broths, he'd brush Lances hair for him because he knows he'd hate to wake to tangles. Keith did his skincare for him at night and kept him updated on everything that's happened.

Keith doesn't even know if Lance can hear him but the others assured Keith that his gentle care was helping even if he couldn't see it.

He wakes up one day to a hand carding weakly through his hair.

"good morning starlight."

Keith shoots up to make sure it isn't a dream. He comes face to face with blue eyes and the real version of the cocky smile he's grown to love.

"Took you long enough."

Keith practically climbs into Lances bed to pull him into an embrace "I'm so sorry-"

"None of that-" lances arm wrap around Keith just as tight "I knew you'dcome back. I was right where you left me."

Keith half sobs into the other boys shoulder "yeah...right where I left you."

Lance hums "don't worry samurai, I'll never leave you. No matter where I am I'll always be waiting."

Keith feels those hands comb through his hair again.

"always?...even if I forget?"

"Always. No matter the circumstances."

At those words Keith knows, everything will be alright. And as he eased I to lances very real, very comforting warmth, he's certain he'll never forget again.

[pinkjoy-cons]

Childe Blub #1

Hello. I am not dead. Just distracted by several other things that I haven't had a moment to write anything smile :)

Despite how much I write for him...i actually don't like childe...

But @sammilimyy loves him so i write for him. This freaking man keeps hijacking my fics and I blame her really.

Anyway....i wrote this for her while i was on my lunch break. I got inspired by a LaDS fic that I now cannot find for the life of me. Hopefully they don't mind that I used a similar prompt for this blurb, if not I will delete it. If y'all find the fic let me know so I can confirm with them.

Warnings: Gender neutral reader (no defining feature/body parts) anyone can read, that being said: if you are amab he sticks his tongue in your a**, if you are afab it's just normal cunn!lingus (kinda) no use of Y/N, sub!Reader, hard dom!Childe, use of pet names (sweetheart, lovely, baby),Monster F!ucking, Size k!nk, overstimulation, rough!Childe, calling him Ajax, tongue F!ucking, exaggeration of sexual activity, dacryphilia (i think), belly bulge but it's when he's in Foul Legacy form so....I think that's it but let me know if I miss anything. MINORS DNI PLEASE

Please do not post/share my fics on TikTok, translate without my permission, narrate, or claim as your own.

Word Count: 669 (nice)

Imagine you're in bed with Childe and y'all are getting ready and such and as he puts it in about halfway you just go "is it in yet?"

You said it as a joke to act like a brat and get on his nerves. He paused just for a second and grabs you by the face. "So you wanna be a brat, huh?" Before you can respond he thrusts the rest of they way. It knocked your breath away. You put your hand on his chest in an attempt to push him away but he takes your hand and pins it next to your head. "Can you tell that it's in now?" He whispers in your ear, "How about when I do this?" His hips are flushed to you and he grinds ever so. It's rubbing inside of you so well all you can do is plead to him to wait; voice soft and whimpering.

"No, no sweetheart, you said you couldn't feel it so now I'm making sure you do. Or what? Still can't feel anything?" He can tell by the tears in your eyes that you can. "Yes Ajax I-I can. So full."

"No baby, I don't think you can. I mean why would you lie to me the first time then?" He then pulls out of you and you gasped; angry at the lack of him inside you.

You try to use your legs to pull him back to you but he unhooks himself from you and practically tosses them down. Through your daze you look to see what's going on. In what seemed like a blink and a flash of light, he changed and....Oh archons.

Towering above you is Ajax but now, he was in his Foul Legacy form. "I'm always so gentle with you lovely." He begins in a low gravel of his voice that was distorted due to being in this form. "I do my best to treat you with the respect that you deserve." His tongue comes out and his head lowers. Instantly, his snake-like tongue is shoved into you. You moan out but take it, trying to find purchase in the sheets below you as his thick tongue fucks in and out of you slowly. His tongue moves back and forth slowly and he takes his time to watch as the tears fall from your eyes. His tongue is removed and he questioned, "Did you feel that?" You took a moment too long to answer, too fucked out and rightfully embarrassed at how he's got you to this state so quickly.

"No answer," Ajax begins, "Fine then." In a shocking move he reaches above you and grips the headboard of the bed, snapping it with his strength. You snap out of it for just enough to see what was in front of you. Ajax's cock in his Foul Legacy form rubbing up and down your hole.

Your eyes go wide "A-Ajax that's not gonna-"

"Yes it will." He doesn't let you finish the sentence. It seems that he's done waiting because he starts to prod the engorged tip into you. "I want to make sure my baby feels-" the tip slips fully in, "Every." He speeds up and you can feel yourself stretching to fit it all. "Last." More is going in and at some point during the penetration you come; making a mess as he continues despite your cries. You cry out at the overstimulation and reach out to his arms above to ground you. "Inch"

Ajax bottoms out and you can honestly say you have never felt this full in your life. "Ajax!" You scream, "It was a joke baby. Please I-I can't!"

Childe lets out a low growl, "Sorry baby, I'm not laughing. You should have thought twice before saying something like that. And besides," Ajax pulls about and hand's width out and thrusts back in causing you to squirt a bit once again, "You've already come just from penetration alone, but I'm just barely getting started"

[iloveundertaesooomuch]

Some advice from AU Calebs!

Heck yeah I did it! Finally i finished ONE of the HUNDREDS AU crossover ideas I have in my head!! Crossovers are fun guys!! (I apologise for a bad english in advance. Writing this it a rush.)

"It's ok to ask for help." (A Reverse Of Feathers And Mud by @jess-the-vampire)

I couldn't make a crossover meme without the legend. Sorry, not sorry. He is such a sad lad but tries to stay positive and be happy for his family uydfykudsutsudskudsluds (*dies*). I have to admitt, Caleb's dad energy is too strong for me to handle without wanting a hug him. No wonder! He was THE grandpa for centuries straight without a break. At least Caleb gets his whole family together in the end. Comics with him and either Hunter and Philip or Luz and Eda make me run in cirles around the room aaaa.

"You are not a burden." (Brother's Keeper by @idoodlestuffsometimes)

Damn, you definetly created one of the darkest AU in the fandom. Each time I re-read AU related posts I scream my lungs out because it is so angsty and so great. I am genuinely scared of your Belos ngl, because.. this man didnt loose anything and he still proceeds to do all that stuff. Enconter with him has 0 survival rate.

POOR CALEB! At least in the world of memes he had an opportunity to flee the captivity twice (the bald head and the car). This man had no moment of mental rest for centuries oh my God. One of my friends wants to fight his brother personally to protec Caleb at all cost sksksk. Well, at least Hunter will always have an actually loving relative! And if the happy ending is going to be canon, I think the future looks great, especially knowing how much pain all your characters go through currently. (And I think both Caleb and Hunter would need the "you are not a burdain" affirmations. At least some form of support in their situation.)

You said in the latest ask-answer that BK!Caleb was supposed to have white streaks in his hair so I attempted to add them. Hope they look fine! Colors for the outfit I got from Belos, so they would match, I guess???

"Murder is okay." (Loose Strings by @oldmanpip)

My bro, brother, friend... Despite you being not to involved on the discord server, my brain is still rotting with your great awesome AUs. And I know you know that. Your Caleb is really loose in all sences of that word and I love that. Wonder if your AUs will ever be available to the public. Because oh boy oh boy they deserve to be recognised. (Loose Caleb is such a conservative grandpa who never did anything wrong, wdym?)

"Your feelings matter." (Pip In Time by @celestialscribbler)

Honestly? Man, your comic is the reason I got invested in Witteclaw couple at all. Even if the "Pip in time" is not their story, but you wrote their teen romance so sweetly. Those two melted my heart... I scream each time I re-read your comic for 100th time. Just WOAH my brain goes brrr! And Caleb as a character is also written really really well. I love him so much. He is such good brother but MAN HE NEEDS A BREAK FROM BEING AN ADULT! BOY! Insirt crying and heart emojis here.

(PS: hope you still care about your health!)

My thoughts:

I have been drawing this for more than a month I think? And the only reason for that is my university. I hope to actually get an ADHD diagnosis because something is clearly wrong with me. But thats not the point.

There are so many ideas in my head. Goofy and not. The only problem is that I have less and less ability to do what I want lately. I wish I could bring them all to life, but at the same I dont know if anyone will be interested. Would AU crossovers look too self-indulgent? Or nah? Idk. (Just Grimwalker-Isle already has so much potential for stupid ridiculous fun I am runnin on coffee juice.)

Litteraly my mind is plagued with different fun plots and possibilities I am going crazy. But I also have A TON of WIPs that I need to finish. Perhaps I will attempt to manage everything at once, but, no promises.

Wish me luck on my exams!

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

The Perfect Send Off

Pairing: Billy Taylor x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of war, slight coercion and corruption kink, loss of (male) virginity, smut. Word count: ~2.1k

Summary: Visiting war torn London, while helping to evacuate her sister and her children back to Cambridge, a young woman finds herself checked in at The Halcyon, and catches the attention of their bell boy, soon to be soldier, Billy. Based on this request.

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

“Billy, don’t stare!” Peggy chastises her son with a swat to the arm. “Help the lady with her bags.”

Her eyes move appreciatively over the tall form of the sandy haired young man in front of her. He offers her a tight lipped smile, obviously flustered, considering the shade of scarlet he’s turning, before grabbing her suitcases from the marble floor of the hotel foyer. “Sorry, Mum,” he mumbles awkwardly to the dark haired woman beside him.

“It’s Mrs. Taylor in front of the guests, how many times?!” She hisses quietly, before turning back to her with a charming, painted-on-for-the-guests type smile. “Welcome to The Halcyon, madam. Billy is one of our bell boys, and will take your bags to your room for you now that you’re all checked in. My name’s Peggy, I operate the switchboard. Please don’t hesitate to ring down if you need anything. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

She watches Peggy walk away, each click of her high heels growing quieter as she retreats, before turning back to Billy, who stands there expectantly with her bags in his large hands.

Oh, I certainly will enjoy my stay.

She had arrived in London by train from Cambridge that morning, intending to leave again with her sister and her children. Since war had broken out, the frequent airstrikes over London had made it too dangerous for them to remain, so they’d be staying with her until it was safe to come back - provided they had a home to return to.

It would take a few days for her sister to get packed and have the house and children’s schooling in order, so she’d be staying at The Halcyon until they were ready to leave.

She spares a sideways glance at the bellboy as they stand in the lift together, the reddening of his face from having been caught staring at her only just beginning to fade. He’s younger than her by at least a couple of years, but has chiseled features that make him look handsome despite his bashful nature, and he fills out the grey slacks of his uniform more than adequately.

The reason for her trip to London is a serious matter, but she figures there’s no harm in having some fun with it.

“It’s nice that a young lad like you gets to work with their mother,” she says with a sultry smile, as the lift travels upwards.

His eyebrows raise, blue eyes widening slightly as he turns to her in the small space. “Oh, I’m not a lad, I’m a man…I mean, working with me mum, it’s not forever. Expecting me draft papers any day now…miss?”

He looks at her uncertainly and she huffs a quiet laugh as they step out of the lift together. “Yes, miss is fine, I don’t have a husband.”

Billy presses his lips together and averts his eyes, nodding slightly.

“So, you’re signed up to draft,” she says as they reach the door of her room, “how exciting for you. You’ll have to pop by and let me know your posting once you find out, I’d love to know.”

He falters, the suitcases he’d been carrying thumping heavily to the ground as he stoops to deposit them over the threshold of her room. He straightens, clasping his hands in front of him, and looks at her apologetically. “Oh…yeah, course…yeah, I will!”

She holds his gaze for a few moments, enjoying his barely disguised panic, before she speaks again. “I’d give you a tip, but I’m afraid I’m unsure of which bag I’ve put my purse in–”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, honestly, don’t worry,” he insists hurriedly.

“Nonsense, I have to give you something,” she purrs, “will this do?”

She leans up and presses a chaste kiss to his cheek, watching him carefully as she settles back on her feet.

His eyes go wide, the scarlet hue returning to his skin as he battles to hide a grin, tugging at the collar of his uniform. She hears him mutter “bloody hell” beneath his breath, as his eyes dart nervously down the corridor.

She wonders if he’s ever kissed anyone before, based on his reaction to a mere peck on the cheek she supposes he probably hasn’t.

Oh, my stay here is certainly going to be fun.

“Was that to your liking, Billy?” She asks with a smirk.

“Oh…oh yeah…thanks,” he says, swallowing thickly and trying to regain his composure.

Adorable.

“My pleasure. If that’s everything then, I’ll see you later?”

He nods, retreating from the doorway and down the corridor, sparing glances back over his shoulder at her standing there, until he’s back in the lift and out of sight.

It’s nearly two days later when she’s heading back up to her room in the late afternoon, having spent the day with her sister, that Billy rushes towards her, eyes lit up with excitement and a wide grin on his face.

“I got my posting this morning!” He tells her excitedly as she puts her key in her room door.

“Congratulations, soldier,” she says with a wink, “got time to come in and tell me about it, or have you got to get back to work?”

“Just finished me shift, actually, so I’ve got time.” He loosens the strap around his chin of his Halcyon branded cap, removing it as if to signify the fact. His dark blonde hair is slicked back against his head, neatly parted to the side.

“Great, come on in then.”

Billy trails behind her, his hat held gingerly in both hands as he glances around the room.

“Make yourself at home, Billy.” She gestures towards the bed and he perches on the edge of it, while she takes the armchair opposite. She has never seen anyone look less relaxed and has to stifle a laugh at how rigid his posture is.

“So, about your posting–”

“Yeah!” He suddenly becomes animated again, leaning forward and gesticulating each of his words, “Came in the post this mornin’, tried to find ya, but you were out. I’ve been put on the anti aircraft guns! Can you believe it? I’ll be shooting German planes outta the sky!”

She watches him intently as he speaks, the curve of his lips, the brightness of his eyes. He exudes confidence when he’s passionate, not a trace of shyness to be found and it’s incredibly attractive.

“That’s very brave of you,” she says, “I expect your sweetheart will be worried for you though.”

“Oh,” he furrows his brow, his gaze downcast, “no, there’s no one…no sweetheart.”

“That’s a shame,” she drawls, her smugness at the fact barely concealed. “Tell me, Billy, are you a virgin?”

He widens his eyes, mouth opening and closing as he flushes pink from the base of his neck, all the way to the tips of his ears. “N-no…I’ve had it off with loadsa girls…”

“Billy…” she chastises in a stern tone of voice.

He sighs, turning his hat over in his hands, shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I’m a virgin.”

She moves to sit beside him on the bed, her hand caressing his shoulder. “Nothing wrong with that,” she reassures him, “but perhaps you’d like not to be? Can’t send you off to war, never having known the touch of a woman.”

He audibly gulps, staring at her in disbelief, so she takes the initiative, leaning forward and pressing her lips to his.

He freezes at first, she can feel him trembling all over, but he softens as she’s about the pull away and reciprocates, his hat slipping from his hands and landing on the carpet with a soft thud. His mouth moves clumsily against her own, over eager and inexperienced, yet there is something endearing about it. She longs to show Billy the tenderness he deserves.

“I–I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispers nervously against her lips once they part for air.

“It’s okay,” she soothes him, caressing his cheek, “just lay back. Let me take care of you.”

He nods, moving back against the bedspread.

She takes her time stripping him of his bellboy uniform. Billy is undeniably skinny, but his long, lean limbs are corded with wiry muscle, his chest and shoulders well defined and broad as they’re revealed to her as she sheds his jacket, shirt and vest.

His chest rises and falls rapidly with anxious, shallow breaths, his eyes glued to her as she removes her own clothing. His lips part as she bares herself before him, trembling hands reaching out tentatively to trace over her naked flesh.

Her eyes widen with shock and admiration and she removes his briefs. She had not been expecting Billy to be quite so well endowed; his erection is thick and reaches almost to his navel, the ruddy tip glistening with arousal.

Billy hisses through his teeth, brow furrowing as she takes him in hand to roll a sheath over the length of him. She can tell from the way he twitches against her palm that he won’t last long.

“You okay?” She whispers as she moves to straddle him.

His expression is almost pained, only able to nod as he looks up at her with desperation in his eyes.

She sinks slowly down onto him, her jaw going slack at the stretch, hearing Billy groan beneath her.

“Oh…oh god…” he grits out, as her hips sink fully against his.

Trailing her fingertips over his bare chest, while giving herself a moment to adjust, she soothes him with a soft kiss.

He hums into it, his hips bucking slightly upwards and she pulls back with a grin, rolling her hips against his, delighting in the way his thickness drags against her sensitive walls.

He gasps softly, head thrown back against the pillows, a few strands of hair coming loose from his carefully waxed style.

“You’re beautiful,” he mutters.

His grip on her hips is vicelike as she rocks against him, she feels impossibly full and yet already anticipates this being an unsatisfying ending for her - she can feel him throbbing inside of her, as he pants hard beneath her.

Her backside slaps softly against his thighs once, twice, three times, and all too soon his eyes are screwing shut as he cries out in ecstasy, twitching as he spills into the condom.

She stills, gazing down at him as he opens his eyes, skin flushed as he gasps for air. He looks like a work of art, no shame or fear of making a fool of himself guiding his behaviour, just utterly lost in the moment.

“Sh-shit…sorry…” he whispers, as she climbs off of him. He pulls off the rubber and discards it in the bedside waste paper bin. “That was really quick.”

She smiles, guiding him back to her side and laying back. “It was your first time, that was going to happen. You’ll last longer next time.”

He grins down at her. “Next time?”

“If you want to, that is.”

“Course I do!”

He kisses her with more confidence, his hands snaking a trail down her body, squeezing greedily at her curves. After a few minutes of their languid kisses and caresses, she can feel him stirring to life against her thigh again.

“Could I be on top this time?” He whispers into her ear, settling between her legs, once he’s found another sheath.

She nods, sighing in pleasure as she feels him slip back inside of her. The change in angle and sensation of his weight on top of her heightens the feeling as each of his gentle strokes brushes deep within her.

While it feels good, it’s not quite enough to get her there, and as she feels his thrusts becoming less controlled, she knows she needs to help him to help her.

“Give me your hand,” she says huskily, taking it and guiding it between their bodies. 

She presses his fingers to her pearl, guiding them to stroke her in quick, tight circles. “Just like that,” she tells him.

He’s quick to learn, stroking her in tandem with each snap of his hips. He groans low into the crook of her neck, stilling as he spends himself a second time, but the movement of his fingers never relents. The combination of his ministrations against her bud and him pulsating within her drive her over the edge, and she climaxes with a moan, clenching around Billy, causing his breath to catch in his throat.

He rolls off of her after a moment, throwing his arm behind his head and pulling her to his chest. “Could get used to this,” he murmurs with a lazy smirk.

“Won’t you get the sack?” She asks jokingly.

“Nah, leaving anyway, aren’t I?”

“Right you are,” she smiles, snuggling against him.

“You up for another send off then? I could die, y’know.”

“That’s manipulative, Billy!” She giggles, swatting his chest.

“Is it working though?”

“Yeah, yeah, it is…” she says quietly, feeling his fingertips dig into the soft flesh of her thigh.