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lalunanymph · 1 year ago

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𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── as the last woman on earth, a government bounty marks you as humanity’s only hope for repopulation. unexpectedly, stumbling into your college football team becomes your lifeline, but instead of turning you in, they want to impregnate you on their own terms.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── you're now reading . . . 𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 + 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 with isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, barou shoei, kunigami rensuke, chigiri hyoma, nagi seishiro & mikage reo

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── fem!reader, mentions of sexism in medicine, gangbang, breeding, cunninlingus, unprotected s*x, mild degradation, reader gets spanked once, mentions of food, mentions of babies, mentions of pregnancy, reverse harem, reader gets kidnapped, creampies, double penetration, nipple play, mentions of viral outbreaks, home isolation, mentions of human torture and experimentation, apocalypse AU, dark content ahead (10k+ words i am sick in the head)

⇤flip back to the pervtober masterlist

One thing about life you were coming to find out in your short existence, was that it could change in the blink of an eye.

One day, you’re a popular cheerleader everyone loves, on the Dean’s List and speeding through to a life of accolades and financial stability, then the next, a viral outbreak spirals out of control, infecting and offing only women.

It started with rapid coughing and sneezing. Many expert scientists cited a woman's inferior immune system compared to men. They barely paid any attention to the growing casualties in one half of the population, just like how they turned a blind eye to PCOS or the persistent chronic pain most women seemed to experience throughout their lives.

As the voices of one half went unheard, the dire consequences slapped mankind fully in the face.

Birth rates dropped, many nations lost their manpower and society became increasingly violent and hostile.

Those women that were left were transferred to medical facilities under the guise of rehabilitating them. But, there were the rumours of abuse and medical experiments that arose from shady forums and chat groups.

You had read some of them from Jienna’s laptop when she was still alive.

Your best friend and roommate was an advocate for women’s rights, even before the world hadn’t gone to shit, and she was the first one who opened your eyes to the blatant mistreatment women were going through official medical channels. When the virus hit, the both of you huddled in your shared dormitory, trading packets of ramen and stories while waiting for more aid to come.

She always had such a bright smile and determination. The day the virus took her away from you was one you could never forget.

Jienna laid on her bed, a grey pallor overtaking her once radiant skin. The skincare she religiously applied was gathering dust on her dresser, and everytime she exhaled, it sounded coarser and coarser.

Eventually, she closed her eyes and never awoke again, and you had to page the medical team to extract her body, all while tears streamed down your cheeks and you were hovering on the edge of a full meltdown.

Your family across the country couldn’t even come and see you; your brothers were barred from taking you back home, as every woman in the district was given strict orders to remain at home and behind locked doors to keep the virus away.

But, it always managed to slip through the cracks. Whether it was from infected food or contaminated medical equipment.

The virus killed any female it touched.

News reports began surfacing that hens were dying out, impacting the supply of eggs. Cows were dropping dead in fields, the world’s milk supply running dry for the first time in existence. The pregnant black cat you used to feed behind your dorms was found dead behind a dumpster by a group of computer science boys.

Slowly, the world descended into chaos, and more and more women were disappearing.

It was exactly day 40 of your lockdown when you decided you would run away.

Packing every non-perishable canned food you could find into a big bag, you waited until dusk fell and when the nurses would hand you your dinner. You knew it would be one of the older security guys who used to direct parking on your campus, and he had a bad hip so he couldn’t chase you down.

As much as you hated hurting him, the first punch in his face was enough to knock him out cold. You hopped over his body, careening down the hallway and pushing yourself towards the outside of the college campus.

Luck was on your side when you dashed out the front door to find an idle truck. It was from one of the block rangers, and you didn’t hesitate to jump inside of it, revving the engine and stepping down on the gas pedal.

Someone yelled out your name, but you were too fired up to care. In your mind, you decided it would be better to die from the virus than staying cooped up for the rest of your life. At least with dying, you would be free.

You had no plan and no idea what to do next but to race towards the closest abandoned building you could find. Jienna had told you about it during her dying days—how there was a series of abandoned buildings just at the edge of town where defiant women stayed the last of their days there.

Having seen with your own eyes what the virus did to your roommate, you were sure you were prepared to go out the same way. There would be a few days where your immune system fought back, but without the right food and care, you would waste yourself away.

Better than being trapped forever in a small dorm. You viciously gunned the engine and raced towards that shining beacon of hope.

The buildings out of town were abandoned like Jienna said, and you prepared to set up your death camp. The concrete slab walls were drab and the floor was too hard and cold to sleep on, but you made do with a blanket you managed to steal from the lobby.

Days passed and soon, you were starting to wonder if the virus was even real. Your meals consisted of canned beans and whatever scraps you could find in the dumpster nearby. You didn’t dare to light a fire in case it might attract someone’s attention, and your showers were virtually non-existent.

Maybe I shouldn’t have left the dorms.

Those thoughts of ‘what if’ and ‘should haves’ kept you up at night and haunted your waking moments.

One day, you thought you heard footsteps echoing down the hallways, but then, you found out it was just a bunch of squatters looking for a place to sleep. They turned their nose up on the squalor and left you alone feeling bemused and a little disappointed that not even the lowest rank of humanity would want to spend a night at a place you consistently slept in.

But, your newfound freedom was too good to be true.

It had been too quiet and too peaceful. The bubble was waiting to pop and your hopes burst one day when you awoke in cold sweat to hear a man’s voice down the hallways.

“... heard she escaped here…”

“Are you sure?”

The fatigue weighing you down shot out of your system and you sat up ramrod straight, rushing to get your goods without making a sound.

“No news of… gotta be the last one in the vicinity…”

You hurriedly stuffed your blanket into your backpack, taking care not to breathe too loud in case they might hear. The beam of a flashlight pricked your irises, and having lived for a while in the dark, you weren’t used to such brightness.

Squinting, you stayed close to the walls, slinging your bag onto your shoulders and preparing to depart down a flight of steps straight into the forest fringing these buildings. Your flexibility as a cheerleader back in your old life helped you out to creep on the floors quietly, extending one leg and then another while keeping close to the walls.

However, you didn’t see where your foot landed, and before you could stop in mid-step, the empty can of beans went clattering to the ground.

For a split second, all you could hear was your breath and the rush of blood in your ears.

The beam of light immediately swung towards your direction, illuminating your left leg and the implicated empty can in question.

Shit. You had been discovered.

“Wait!” One of the men yelled, but you didn’t stop to listen. Hightailing it out of here, you sprinted to the entrance, about to escape into the night when you felt a bigger body slam into you from the side.

Screaming out, you barely caught a glimpse of your perpetrator, but he was holding you down with his larger body, pinning you right to the dirty ground.

“Got her!” he yelled back to other men. “It’s a girl! She’s here!”

You blindly reached your hand out and felt the sharp edge of a rock cut into your palm. Swinging it towards him, you bashed the side of his head, and in the glimpses of light from the shining moon up ahead, you caught sight of his vivid, dark hair.

The man yelped and stumbled back, staunching the heavy flow of blood oozing from his right cheek.

“Fuck!” he bellowed, and you used his momentum of shock to push him off of you.

But, he had enough dexterity to clamp a hand around your knee, bringing you back down to the ground.

“No!” you started to scream and sob. “Please! Let me go!”

Someone else came to his rescue, holding you down. You felt ropes around your wrists, drawing them behind your back. Your sobs were muffled by a bag thrown over your head, and for good measure, they tied your ankles, too. It took two of them to carry you into a car, and you were laid on someone’s lap, his arms roping around you and pressing you to his chest.

As the men piled back into the car, you started to sob when you heard the engine ignite.

“Ssh, it’s okay,” the man who held you crooned. “It’s gonna be fine, Y/N.”

Through your tears, you recognized that they knew your name.

A hand touched your knee, rubbing it soothingly. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

That voice. You had heard it before. It brought to mind dark blue eyes and a mop of dark hair. A pair of toned legs tearing through a football field and a charming, lopsided smile.

“I-Isagi?”

He hummed. “It’s me, Y/N. Barou’s holding you, by the way.”

In answer, the self-proclaimed king of the field back from when your college days consisted of study horrors and not a world crisis, flooded your mind with stark familiarity when he exhaled out your name.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“It’s the boys from the football team,” Isagi informed you, like you were on a road trip with them instead of forcefully being kidnapped against your own will.

“H-how did you find me?” The bag they stuffed over your head smelled musty, and you struggled to talk through it. “C-can you get this fucking thing off my head?”

Someone pried the sack off, and you inhaled in deep gusts of air, your wide eyes taking in the darkened interior of this truck and the boys who were holding you hostage.

Isagi had lost a bit of weight since you last saw him. The last you heard of the Blue Lock team’s co-captain was that he had lost his mother to the virus and the school had started a fund for him to cover her funeral expenses. Turning your eyes towards the man who was holding you, Barou’s jaw was tight, and his eyes were heavy with dark circles.

The man driving was Kunigami, whose hands were white-knuckled fists on the steering wheel. Next to him in the passenger, bleeding out from his cheek, was Itoshi Rin. You noticed how he side-eyed you from the front, and returned his evasive look with a frosty glare.

Lastly, at the back of this 8-seater was Chigiri, Nagi and Reo—the former two being the most unlikely combination of acquaintances you had ever seen join this ragtag group of football bros. Nagi and Reo were famous for being fused at the hip since they both started their business degree courses together. They rarely fraternised with anyone else outside of their coursemates, much less kidnap some random woman.

At the reminder of your predicament, you squirmed, accidentally rubbing your ass all over Barou’s crotch. He didn’t react beyond a low hiss of, “Quit it,” those thick and sturdy arms tightening around your trembling body. You tried to ignore how you could feel something hard poking your lower back.

“Why did you kidnap me?” you demanded off the bat. “How did you find me? What are you going to do with me?”

Those rapid questions were met with silence. You flitted your gaze to each of them, and through the passing snatches of orange streetlights, you saw every one of their expressions drenched in guilt.

“We… don’t know.”

Isagi was the one who spoke first, preparing himself to earn your rage.

“You don’t know?” you mumbled, growing more incensed every minute with how they had wrenched you from your peaceful life in the ruins. “You don’t know where you’re taking me. What you’re planning to do with me. You don’t know the reason why you went through all that trouble to track me down. You don’t—”

“It’s because you have a bounty on your head.”

Rin’s voice cut through your growing tirade, leaving you cold with disbelief.

“I… what?”

On your right, Isagi nodded, rubbing the back of his neck like he would rather be somewhere else than in this vehicle having such a difficult conversation.

“After you escaped, the officials posted your bounty and your suspected whereabouts. Um, it’s uh… well, Y/N… you’re the last woman alive from our college.”

You exhaled, feeling your chest constrict and tears prick your eyes.

All your lecturers… your friends… your cheerleading gang…

“Are they all gone?” The boys didn’t comment on your thick voice or the unshed tears.

Kunigami was the first one to express his remorse. “I’m sorry, Y/N. That’s the truth.”

Rin decided to rip the bandaid off quicker, leaving you reeling in confusion and despair. “The authorities put up notices for you because your status was unknown. They said that anyone who brought you back—dead or alive—would receive two million yen.”

The reality of your situation settled in like sentiment falling to the bottom of a glass jar.

You felt cold all over, your heartbeat right in your throat.

“So, you’re either going to k-kill me or turn me in, huh?”

Your heavy question was met with silence.

Surprisingly, it was Nagi at the back who piped up in his lazy, drawling tone. “Actually… we have a better plan.”

Isagi was the first to react. He shot Nagi a murderous look, shaking his head. Kunigami glanced at the white-haired man through the rearview mirror with narrowed eyes, and Rin’s scowl deepened. Chigiri, who had been quiet throughout this entire exchange, sighed out, “Idiot” under his breath.

The only one who looked supportive of what Nagi had to say was—no surprise there—Reo himself.

“It’s a good plan! She’s still healthy,” he argued on behalf of his best friend. Nagi nodded, humming.

“The virus should’ve taken her out weeks ago, but she managed to survive all on her own in such dirty conditions… I really think we should give it a shot.”

The air in the car changed; thickening and becoming ripe with tension. Barou’s arms suddenly felt too hot around your body, and you broke out into a sweat.

“It could work,” Isagi started out slowly, rubbing his chin. He had a look on his face you knew all too well—that calculative, goal-hungry stare that would eventually destroy his enemies.

Rin tilted his head towards the backseat, his turquoise eyes drawing circles on the car’s water-stained ceiling. “Do you think that would be legal for us to do?”

“We have to keep her hidden.” Chigiri spoke up, demanding everyone's attention. “The authorities can’t know that we have a woman with us or we’d be punished. We have to be very careful with Y/N.”

You were still drawing blanks on their ideas, growing more frustrated every single second you were kept in the dark from their decisions on your fate. “What do you fucking assholes mean? Legal? Keeping me away from the authorities? What do you want with me?”

Your voice broke on the last question, and without warning, you started to sob. The weeks of roughing it out on your own, trying to escape from society and hide in plain sight were taking its toll on you. You wept bitterly, hiding your face behind your hair and sobbing into your shoulder.

“Shit,” someone muttered in the front.

“Give her some water.”

It was Isagi who gently coaxed your face from your shoulder, holding a bottle of clean water. You contemplated spitting a mouthful at him, but ultimately, your thirst won out and you drank deeply.

He wiped your tears off with the sleeve of his threadbare sweater and you hiccuped into a silence, already accepting your death.

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Reo murmured from the back. You lifted your swollen, red eyes to find his purple ones full of sincerity. “We actually want to keep you safe. There’s been rumours about human experiments and none of us want you to go through that. We want to keep you safe.”

You should’ve known the group’s appointed spokesperson would be a man used to spouting sweet words to get his way—whether with professors or girls—but a part of you wanted to believe Reo. You were so, so tired of fending for yourself, you wanted someone to help you with the burden of being a woman in these unacceptable times.

“Yes, Y/N.” Rin’s sudden reassurance struck you dumb with disbelief. “We have our old frat house—nobody comes by there anymore. We’ll keep you safe there and you can rest.”

It all sounded too good to be true. Here was a band of college footballers being completely sweet with you—wanting to protect, nurture and keep you hidden. But, you were waiting for the other shoe to drop; the catch in this arrangement.

“There’s more,” you whispered, scenting out their bullshit. “You’re not telling me the real reason.”

Men were never good liars—that much you could tell. So, when every single footballer glanced at the other, your senses were in red alert, demanding to uncover what was the terrible footnote to this otherwise flawless proposal.

“Well?” you muttered coldly, strengthening your resolve. “What do you want from me? What’s the catch?”

Reo was quick to turn your question around. “What? There’s no catch—”

“There is.” It was Isagi who spoke, sounding resigned and tired in the dimming darkness. “There is a catch. We shouldn’t lie to her, guys. We all agreed to tell her the truth if we found her and she was willing to listen.”

You held your breath, waiting for Isagi to drop the bomb. He seemed like he needed a moment to stabilise himself. He drew in a deep breath and unlocked his shoulders, looking you square in the eye. You half-wished he had kept you in the dark; never told you the truth. Because what he said next completely swept you off your feet, landing you onto the ground face-first and gasping in disbelief.

“It’s not about rewards or money—it’s about duty. We need your help to repopulate this city, Y/N… we want you to carry one of our babies.”

You felt a pair of broad-set shoulders shake under your smaller frame, the man underneath you stretching out his kinks and stiff muscles after a night of good sleep.

“Hm,” he groaned, brushing a hand down your bare spine. “Good morning, angel.”

Reo’s husky voice drew you back into consciousness, and you whined, burying your face into his neck to hide yourself from the morning’s glare. He chuckled at your antics, nosing your hair and pressing soft kisses onto your temple. “C’mon, sweetheart. It’s Rin’s turn with you today.”

Without missing a beat or opening your eyes, you mumbled: “Maybe you should all fuck me at one go so you guys can see who’s strong enough to knock me up.”

You meant those words as a joke, but when Reo’s shoulders stiffened, you suddenly realised the depth of danger you were flirting with.

“Don’t say such things you’ll regret, sweetheart,” he meant to tease you, gently easing you off his chest. “Or, the boys won’t stop until you give each one of us a baby.”

You tried to laugh, to shake off the sudden unease. Today was Wednesday, and Wednesdays meant pancake days in this unconventional household. You got up and slipped on Reo’s shirt, fluffing out your shorter hair. The guys had insisted you cut your locks so that it would be easier to hide them under a baseball cap and pass you off as a man if anyone came looking.

Sometimes, you did miss your femininity, but in a world where it was literally dying out, you couldn’t take any chances.

Flashing Reo a smile, you hummed. “Don’t laze around too much like Nagi—I’m making breakfast.”

In the living room, Bachira was the only one up and awake, his bright golden eyes following your every move as you wished him good morning and prepared your ingredients. Without a sound, he slipped behind you, calloused hands warm on your bare belly.

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispered into your ear, making goosebumps rise on your arms.

“Morning, Meguru,” you mumbled, trying to ignore how his hands were creeping up to your bare breasts. Living with seven men meant that you were subjected to their advances night and day. It got even worse when you had told them you missed your period last week, but your cycle turned out to be just a few days late.

That didn’t stop them from feeling you up, grasping your hips or pressing soft kisses to your neck when you least expected it. Like now, with Bachira’s hot breath bathing the sensitive strip of your jaw.

Meguru hadn’t been part of your kidnapping heist a few weeks ago, but he had shown up when Isagi called—ready to be of service and contribute his portion in repopulating your tiny, dying town.

Clicking your tongue at the price tag on the egg carton, you flipped the cardboard cover closed, affronted by the steep spike in those numbers.

“It’s getting bad out there, right?”

Bachira paused his efforts in running his nose down your neck, taken off guard by your sudden question. “Um. Yeah. Why’d you ask, princess?”

Because I haven’t seen the outside world in weeks. You swallowed your bitterness, focused on whipping the yolks into a golden perfection. The boys were doing their best to make you feel cosy and safe within these walls; you couldn’t be too ungrateful. They didn’t let you out for fear of someone catching sight of you—that’s why the windows and doors were all covered and barricaded.

They restricted your contact with only seven of them because they didn’t want an anonymous tip-off to result in you being taken away.

Every Blue Lock player was careful to protect their golden ace.

“Nothing,” you hummed in the breeziest voice you could muster. “Just curious, s’all.”

“Hmm.” Bachira’s hands moved up to your naked tits moving freely under Reo’s bigger t-shirt. “You smell like him,” he accused you softly with a nip to your ear. “That stupid rich boy.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you tried not to smirk, but failed.

“Nah.” Bachira’s fingers trailed to your stiffening nipples, still sore from Reo’s ministrations (he loved biting down on them while you rode him) and eased the soft flesh in between his thumb and forefinger. “I was waiting for my turn—can’t believe I have to share you with those bastards.” You tried not to gasp and push your body back to meet his pelvis halfway, failing miserably to measure a cup full of milk. Some of the liquid sloshed onto your wrist and you heard Meguru snort.

“I love how sensitive you are, baby.”

Biting on your lower lip to stifle a whine, you pushed your ass back to brush the front of his pants, finding him already hard and waiting.

Bachira was one of the more eager boys, and you had to pace yourself and him less he fucked you on this counter and ruined Rin’s day with you.

“Meguru—”

“I know, I know,” he groaned, sounding both lustful and disappointed. “You’re emo Itoshi’s tonight. Fucking stupid stick game.” Cursing himself for literally getting the shorter end of the stick, you felt his pout imprint on your skin. “But, can’t we have a little bit of fun, baby? Can I eat your pussy out at least?”

You literally throbbed at his words, and almost gave in to the rushing desire sweeping you off your feet. Almost—until you heard Isagi’s voice knocking the both of you out of this lust-filled fog.

“Hey. What’re you both doing?”

While you smelled a threat, Bachira smelled an opportunity. His grin was shark-like, cutting through the tension when he didn’t stop playing with your nipples or back down when you hissed out his name.

“What’s it look like? I’m trying to fuck her.”

You tensed, waiting for Isagi to be pissed off. He was the one who reinforced this one-night sharing rule, and to see his best friend blatantly disregarding it would set off his rigid ego.

But, to your surprise, Isagi tilted his head, taking note of your flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “I think she… she likes it.”

Bachira glanced down to find your mouth parted slightly, brows furrowed with a deceptive look of pain when both men knew what it was. Desire.

Isagi, who could smell a goal or a wrench in the plans from a mile away, started to chuckle.

“Lift up her shirt. Continue playing with her nipples, Meguru.”

“Yes, captain,” Bachira sang, and lifted the hem of Reo’s sleep shirt up to expose your puffy, swollen nipples.

“Shit,” Isagi breathed, and you didn’t miss how he had to adjust himself through his shorts, those dark blue eyes eclipsed with a dark, unnamed emotion you were terrified to uncover. “They look so perfect and pointy.”

Bachira rolled your sensitive buds between his two fingers, ignoring your soft yelp and flinch when he began to tug on them with a bit more force. “Huh—it really is. Reo must’ve prepped her nicely for us.”

“For what?”

The voice of another lover joined the fray. You peeled your watery eyes up to find Reo’s curious expression sweeping between his two friends and your own flushed face. He didn’t seem angry that you were being fondled by Bachira in broad daylight—in fact, Reo looked like he didn’t feel anything.

He almost looked bored, sweeping those purplish hues to Isagi. “So, are we finally doing it?”

“Hmm.”

Doing what? You wanted to ask, but your head was tilted back, mouth falling open only for it to be filled by Bachira’s tongue coaxing yours to come and play with his. His kiss—if it could even be called that—was sloppy and unhurried, its full intention to leave you feeling shame and vulnerability in front of two of your other lovers.

Showing them how you easily folded and lost yourself to the sensations.

“Mm—can see her moving her hips,” Isagi’s lowered, husky voice shot a potent mix of desire and shame through your veins. “Check how wet she is Meguru.”

Abiding his best friend, Bachira dipped two fingers past the waistband of your sleep shorts. You mewled and tossed your head back when he swiped through your folds, teasingly circling your clit.

As soon as he gave you that wonderful friction, he retrieved it, leaving you high and dry.

“Meguru,” you whimpered. Bachira ignored you, holding his fingers up to the other two men; his digits glistening with your juices.

“I don’t think she can wait anymore,” Reo murmured, and this time, you caught a flash of darkness in his otherwise kind eyes. “Isagi—”

“I’ll go first.”

Meguru nudged you firmly to face the approaching, dark-haired man. You couldn’t keep your eyes off Isagi’s intense, blue eyes that were pinning you right to the spot like you were about to be burned on a stake. The fire came next when he reached out to caress your cheek, trailing his hand down your neck and grabbing your throat.

“Tease her clit again,” he ordered, and Bachira playfully said,

“Yes, captain.”

Fuck. You were growing lightheaded from the combination of Isagi choking you and Bachira running slow circles on your throbbing clit. It was even filthier when you remembered Reo was watching, most likely getting off to your desperate pinched expressions.

“Meguru… Yoichi…”

Calling them by their first name seemed to spur on those two men. Meguru eased one finger past your tight ring of muscle, melting through your spongy walls and hooking the tip of this thick index right against your g-spot. He nudged it forward in a fluid motion, like how he would effortlessly send forward a ball across the field, forcing a yelp past your kiss-swollen lips.

Your vision was purely dominated by Isagi’s increasingly unhinged expression; the sweat bulleting down his forehead, his mouth parted in a silent snarl, those dark, beautiful eyes coaxing you to jump down a well just to feel his touch…

“Y-Yoichi.”

As if he understood your deeper need, Isagi nodded feverishly at Bachira. “Remove her shorts… hold her open while I eat her out.”

Dutifully, Meguru followed his friend's instructions. You watched with wide, unblinking eyes as Yoichi got to his knees, his mouth so close to where you needed him the most.

Bachira slung your shorts down your ankles, revealing the sweet shape of your mound and the even sweeter treasure hidden in between your folds. Like a man hellbent on a mission, Yoichi gently pried your clit from under her hood, revealing the throbbing bud waiting to be licked, sucked or loved on.

You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth was on you.

Every man in this house ate you out differently. Reo was more careful and controlled. Nagi was languid and tended to overstimulate you. Barou loved to have your legs on his shoulders as he dove in between your thighs.

But, Isagi was different; he ate you out with the determination of a man who had to prove he was the best in every way.

The feeling of his tongue swiping through your folds, those perfect pink lips sealing around your clit and how he sounded like he was making out with your pussy made you clench down on thin air.

“Yoichi…” you breathed.

Bachira went to work on stimulating you, too, tugging your shirt above your head and pinching your nipples again.

Both boys were so intent on driving you to the edge, that they didn’t realise the group of spectators they were attracting.

From the corner of your watery eyes, you noticed Rin standing, arms crossed over his broad shoulders and frosty glare—tainted with jealousy—directed towards the man in between your thighs. Kunigami had just gotten out of the shower, so his hair was still damp while Barou had returned from a workout, his muscles swollen and shiny with sweat. Chigiri and Nagi were the only ones probably still asleep, though you had little doubt your stream of moans would wake them up out of curiosity.

Meguru flicked the tip of his nails on your nipples, the sharp sting sending bites of pleasure right to your core.

“Megu—” you were interrupted again by another sloppy kiss.

“Tch. You’re all such fucking horndogs.” Rin’s grumble was white noise behind the blood rushing in your ears.

“... you’re not complaining…”

“Shut up…”

A sharp nip to your flesh inner thigh wrenched you back to the present, and you gasped, making eye contact with Isagi and his raised brow.

“You’re getting bored, Princess?”

Without missing a beat, you shook your head. “N-no, ‘Ichi. Mm’sorry.”

He clicked his tongue, obviously not buying your lie. “Here you are getting your pussy eaten out by me and you’re focusing on the other boys. Just admit that you’re a fucking cockwhore, Y/N.”

You gaped at his words, and your rage was lost when Bachira dragged you back to the counter, arranging you face down and ass up.

“M-Meguru—!”

“Come on, who wants to fuck her first,” he boldly exclaimed, shaking you to the core. “She’s ready for a baby.”

You burned from the inside out at how cheaply he was treating you; that sensation amplified by the sharpest slap of humiliation across your cheeks, Bachira’s handprint glowing warmly on your skin. He spanked you again, matching his mark on your right cheek to your left one, letting you cry out and clench down on thin air.

“Me.” A deep, resonate voice which you loved having at your ear while he fucked you on every Monday night. After all—a King always went first.

As one of the bigger guys, Barou’s physique gave him the advantage over the others to call dibs on you first, his undeniably good genetics and strong bone structure a contender for healthy babies.

You felt Bachira’s warmth melt from your side to be replaced by the feel of Shoei’s toned thighs pressed against your rear.

He soothed the spanks left on your skin with one large, coarse palm, and hummed deeply.

“You ready, pretty?”

Nodding, you turned your head to the side, unable to believe that you were in such a vulnerable position to be fucked by the entire football team.

You weren’t going to lie—you had imagined yourself in this position before. But, it was always in your wildest fantasies; to be defiled by the football team in your tiny uniform behind the bleachers. If you were being honest, every girl on campus had the same daydream, but you were closer to the unattainable. The entire idea was such a cliche, and yet, here you were, in a room full of hungry, testosterone-fuelled men who eagerly waited to have their turn with you—the pretty cheerleader from their bygone days before the world tried to kill humanity off.

Barou wasted no time in sinking his thick cock into you, groaning as your body took him inch by inch. He rubbed your hips, leaning forward to gently thumb your nipple. “There you go, baby. Taking me so well.”

His words were a stark contrast from his actions. Shoei gave a low, guttural groan when he bottomed out, a dirty thrill shooting down your spine at the feel of his entire cock moulding with your walls as seven other men gaze lustfully at you.

Through the shine of an old kettle on the counter top, you noticed Isagi palming himself through his shorts. Bachira was blatantly jacking himself off, one hand inside his sleep shorts. Kunigami was sitting on the sofa, staring at you slack-jawed and completely hard under his towel. Reo was the more subtle one, furtively glancing around and looking slightly uncomfortable, but still unable to tear his eyes from you.

Chigiri and Nagi had woken up, and Rin was standing a little ways by the door, distancing himself from the activities taking place.

For a split second, you felt bad for him—Rin was supposed to have you today, but he had to wait for his turn as the other guys fucked you; figuratively and literally blue-balled by his own teammates. It would’ve made you mad on his behalf if you weren’t—

“Ow!”

A sharp tug on your roots snapped your head back, and your cry bounced off the walls. Barou’s lips were on your neck, his hot breath fanning across your neck.

“Did I tell you you could be distracted? Pay attention to when your King fucks you.”

From the back, you heard Bachira snicker, but every thought flew out of your head when Barou set a pace which had your toes curling in your house slippers. He clamped one hand around the delicate roots of your hair, while the other guided your hips to meet his halfway.

The sound of balls hitting flesh filled the air, along with your animalistic groans and Barou’s deep ones. You heard a few more muffled groans, and someone cursing, but your thoughts were doused in wet cotton, growing heavier and fuzzier.

You could barely keep your eyes open, only cognizant of Barou’s cock shaping your walls and the impending ball of heat waiting to unravel right under your navel. Meeting his thrusts cleanly, soft mewls fell from your plush lips like dew, mingling with a bit of drool puddling onto the counter right under your mouth.

Barou was fucking you stupid and the other men knew it. He couldn’t stop the feral grin splitting his face in half when your hips bucked, a little slutty tick which told every man you were about to cum.

Without warning, you felt wet warmth fill you to the brim—your first load of the day taken like a champ.

Shoei hadn’t let you cum, and you reeled back from the disappointment with barely any grace; your soft sob was replaced by a moan when another man lined up his cock to your stuffed entrance.

You smelled his fresh pine cologne before you saw him, and sensed Rin’s impatience the second he gripped your jaw and wrenched your face back for a deep, frenzied kiss.

“Fucking whore,” he whispered into the heat of your mouth. “Letting the other boys feel you up when it’s my turn with you today. Where’s your shame?”

Your answer melted as one with a dulcet moan when Rin slid two fingers in between your swollen folds, testing the waters of your arousal. He barely cared when his digits were coated with a combination of Barou’s cum and your juices; he just stuck those soiled, pale and nimble fingers which could’ve rivalled a skilled pianist down your throat. You gagged on them, eyes going blurry and all teary from the flavouring of sin heavy on your tongue.

“Rin,” you hiccuped, and he hummed.

“Take me deeper, baby.”

His command brought a throbbing wave of desperation arresting you from head to toe. You tried to bring his fingers further down your gullet, but gagged when he was almost knuckle-deep.

“Mhpmh!” Your syrupy moan made every man groan, the sheer desperation in how you attempted to fully swallow Rin’s fingers a commendable feat considering he had absurdly thick fingers to match his height.

“Good girl,” Rin praised you in a husky voice when he felt your throat bob around his digits. “You’re really such the perfect fuckdoll, huh? Always so ready for us.”

“Mhmm…” your eyes rolled back into your head, your entire body tensing when you felt his cock slowly breach past your tight ring of muscle.

“Fucking take this dick, baby, I know you can,” the youngest striker urged, his words beyond filthy compared to the other men. Rin was one of the only few people in this house who could talk you through the immense pleasure, and you loved him all the more for it.

His obscene mouth would never fail to leave you reeling from the difference in his demeanour; sour and quiet when he wasn’t fucking you, to brash and downright filthy when he was egging you towards an orgasm.

You loved Rin and his duality; lived to watch it come to life.

You wanted to swallow him down and eat him up whole to satiate the deep well of lust inside of you no matter the price.

“Rin…” you gurgled past his fingers. “Mhmmmore.”

“More?” he interpreted your gurgles with the ghost of a chuckle. You quite liked it when Rin laughed even if it was a soft exhale; it made you feel lighter to hear his happiness. He hummed and plunged his fingers back down your throat, playing with the soft palate of your tongue, while his cock inched deeper and deeper into your sacred heat.

The second he bottomed out, his forehead thumped onto your shoulder, a long drawn out groan of relief radiating warmth right into your throbbing heart. Rin’s reactions were adorable as they were pussy stirring, his duality further exacerbated by those spit-slicked fingers retracting from your mouth and moving down to your puffy clit.

He gently rubbed circles into them, catching you whenever you bucked into his embrace. His lips were on your neck, his hot breath expelling heated groans onto the sensitive skin. Every single shaky circle on your sensitive nub was pulling you closer and closer into a white hole of pleasure.

Your moans were reaching fever pitch, and the entire house was doused with the arousal of seven men who couldn’t wait to fuck you.

The boys whispered something over your stream of mewls and your feet were off the ground, your limp body in Rin’s arms. Without a second to spare, he brought you to the main bedroom where the largest bed could fit at least three men.

There, he laid you down, your head dangling off the edge so your mouth was hanging wide open for the next man to defile.

Rin eased himself in between your spread thighs, placing a kiss onto your sternum almost reverently and leaving more pressees on your jaw and cheeks. You felt someone else rustle up towards the other side of the bed, and your eyes met Kunigami’s darkened ones. His towel was shed off, a heap on the floor, and his long, girthy cock throbbed in anticipation over your face.

“Open up for me, pretty girl,” Rensuke murmured, grazing your cheek and then hooking a thumb on your bottom lip to spread you wider. You whined, overstimulated on both ends when you felt both men sink into you at the same time. Rin bottomed out the second Rensuke hit the back of your throat, making you jerk and gag.

The both of them were big—far too big for your smaller body. It was a struggle to take them both and you felt your body reacting to the impossible feat.

“Ssh, ssh,” Rin whispered into your hair. “Relax, baby. You can take us, I know you can.”

With watery eyes, all you could do was mewl, hips bucking pathetically. Rin’s long girth was directly hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and Rensuke was splitting your throat in half. You felt like you could drown in their musk and the thick scent of sex in the air.

Something bitter hit the back of your throat, and you gagged, about to spit Rensuke out when he clamped one hand on your throat, telling you to keep him there if you wanted to know what was good for you.

“Hold me, sweetheart. Hold it,” the large football player murmured. You were sure your entire system was going haywire—your pussy and mind in war to come out at the top of your frazzled emotions.

One of your hands was buried in Rin’s hair, and another was perched on Kunigami’s thigh, trying to ease him down your battered throat.

Without warning, the other man withdrew his thick length from your mouth, splatters of drool dripping down your chin and neck; defiling you even more.

“Fucking hurry it up, Rin,” Kunigami growled, throwing the other striker a murderous look which juxtaposed his usually kind expression jarringly. “I need to cum in her.”

Rin grunted, returning the other striker’s glare with a hostile one of his own. “Shut the fuck up—let me have this with her.” Kunigami stroked himself, trying to keep himself hard as Rin started to jackhammer into your willing cunt.

Your screams of pleasure echoed around the room, contrasting with the other men’s deep growls and groans. It sounded like a smorgasbord of erotic sounds, complemented by the slap of Rin’s balls on your ass.

The youngest man was close on the verge of his orgasm, his face pinched and drawn. You thought he would’ve taken this chance to cum and ignore your pleasure, like Barou did, but you were sorely wrong when it came to Rin. He pressed a thumb to your swollen clit, rubbing it soft and sweet, increasing the pressure when you started to buck and whine into his embrace.

You smelled the sting of his sweat, felt it drip into your open mouth, tainting it with the taste of Kunigami’s precum and his own excitement.

“I’m close,” you sobbed out, arms like vines around his shoulders, nails stabbing into his back. “G’na cum, Rin-Rin—fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

He shook his head, a feral look of pure determined arousal lighting those beautiful features. “Cum for me, baby. Make a mess—show the other guys how much you love my cock.”

Your back arched, and your mouth fell open in a silent scream. Your thighs tensed around his waist, almost clamping the air out of his lungs from how hard you were clenching around him. The minute ticks, the red lines you left down his back, and your eyes rolling back into your skull arrived at a blinding crescendo.

“Oh! Ugh, Rin—!”

Your first orgasm hit you like a brick wall, steamrolling every thought from your blank mind. Rin’s face fell into the crook of your neck, and his stuttering hips brought forth a fountain of warmth flowing freely into your womb.

You were coasting, high on hormones and pleasure, when he disappeared from your embrace, only to be replaced by another body. Kunigami’s lips on your skin were like warm fluttering butterfly wings, slowly bringing you back to the ground.

“I’m here next, okay, baby?” His tender tone didn’t prepare you for how his cock stretched you out.

“Too big,” you muttered, losing every shred of your composure and shame to hiccup those dirty words. “You’re t-too big.”

“Yeah?” He kissed your tears away. “Aren’t you glad I can stretch you out? Give your sweet body some practice when you have to push out our babies?”

His words ignited a flame right in your lower belly—making you cry out when Rensuke started to slip inside your already overflowing hole. Gushes of white streaked your thighs, the other men’s releases staining the bed underneath you.

As you got used to his slightly wider girth, you didn’t expect Kunigami to roll you on your hands and knees. His cock slid back into your waiting heat, the angle making him feel bigger, and stretching you out even more.

But, it also placed you face to face with the other guys who were eyeing you hungrily—none more so than Reo.

One thick hand wound the hair around the nape of your neck to snap your head up, keeping you firmly in place to watch the lust dancing in their eyes.

“You really should see how fucking sexy you look, baby,” Chigiri hummed, those bright eyes latched onto the spot where you and Kunigami were connected. “We could eat you whole—you fucking little slut.”

“So pretty,” Reo cooed, and Nagi nodded in agreement.

The lilac-haired man got bold enough to stride up to you, perching himself on the edge of the bed where your swinging tits were mesmerising him.

“Raise her up a little bit, Ren.”

Kunigami obeyed Reo’s orders, settling on his haunches and bringing you up with one arm securely snug around your neck. Your tinier hands fluttered to the thick trunk of his forearm as if trying to pry him off, the breath in your lungs knocked out by Rensuke’s headlock.

But, whatever bit of oxygen you managed to inhale from Kunigami’s loosening hold was taken away as Reo leaned forward to kiss and suck your tits. He massaged the neglected one with one hand, his lips busy toying with your right nipple. You watched with bated breath as his tongue caressed the hardening flesh, the firm suction of his lips on the vulnerable flesh sending pangs of pleasure straight to your core.

You cried out, throwing your head back to bump Rensuke’s chin. He grunted, and shifted his arm a bit so he could grasp your neck instead, holding you steady as his cock wrecked you and Reo’s mouth on your tits continued driving you insane.

“She’s drooling,” Nagi drawled, catching their attention.

Every eye zeroed in on your blissed-out face, your mouth parting and a little bit of spit dripping past your chin. Kunigami chuckled, breathless and almost feral when he leaned forward to sloppily make out with you.

The sound of wet lips smacking on each other and a big cock stirring you closer to another orgasm made every man in the room throb—even those who had already come. Every footballer was thinking of the numerous ways he could bend you over and fuck you hard until you squirted all over them; each of their mind’s eye tainted with your sweet moans and even sweeter release.

You gave a short scream, your orgasm catching everyone off guard when you almost folded forward if it wasn’t for Reo catching you. Your body was shuddering like someone had tasered you—a pure scream of pleasure rebounding across the thin walls.

Reo held you as you sobbed, your release triggering Kunigami’s own orgasm. More warmth filled you up and you had lost track of how many men had already came in you; your brain a complete mush with no solid thoughts in it.

Like clockwork, another cock filled you—this time it was Reo’s again—and your mouth was stuffed with someone else's length. You were dragged into a cowgirl position by Reo who let Nagi mount you from the back, both of their lengths taking turns pistoning into your stretched out heat.

“Disgusting,” someone muttered in disdain over the sounds of two men concurrently fucking one woman. Neither of you cared, and you were pulled into a sloppy makeout session with Nagi as Reo continued sucking and licking your already reddened nipples.

Every part of your orifice was swollen, but you still took Chigiri without complaint when it was his turn. You were already like jelly at this point, your entire body sagging on the bed and going numb from the neverending pleasure.

Thankfully, he was quicker, cumming into you within minutes, and kissing you on the forehead afterwards. Your hole was stuffed to the brim with white hot cum, and you thought you couldn’t take anymore until you felt Bachira sliding behind you, hitching your thighs up.

“Hey, Princess,” the golden-eyed menace cooed. “Did you think we would forget about you?”

You felt the bed dip, and Isagi’s face swam in your vision. He came closer to give you a kiss, and his lips felt like a soothing balm on a hot day.

“Yoichi,” you whispered, eyes heavy and body already close to shutting down from exhaustion. “M’so tired.”

“I know, pretty girl, I know,” the dark-haired man whispered. “But, Meguru and I haven’t had our turn with you yet. It would be unfair if we didn't, right?” He gently stroked your cheek, voice saturated with fake sympathy. “You wouldn’t want us to not fuck you after you’ve already taken everyone’s cock, right? You’re not that cruel to deny us, are you, baby?”

“Fucking twisted weirdo,” you heard another person quip. But, you were too far gone to stop the collision of his lips on yours, that skilled mouth drinking away all of your complaints.

As he distracted you, Bachira slipped his thick and veiny cock right into your waiting cunt, his groan low and erotic against your shoulder.

“How’re you still so wet and tight after so many rounds?” He nipped your shoulder in frustration, setting a pace that rutted your body back and forth on the soft sheets. “You’re a fucking nympho, baby—so needy for our cocks.”

“Shut up,” you groaned in between Yoichi’s hot mouth pressing onto yours. You tried to squirm away to get back some of your lost breath, but Isagi refused to let you part from his lips. He chased after you, mouth sealing over yours again and again as you tried to twist your head this way and that.

Strings of spittle clung to both of your chins, and that sick part inside of you which wanted more pushed the voice of common sense in your head out of the way—making you fall head over heels for Yoichi’s mouth on yours. You kissed him back with as much hunger and zeal as your tired body could muster, pushing your boundaries right to the very edge.

Isagi’s ego fed heartily on your submission, greedily taking everything you gave him.

By the end of this sloppy makeout session, your lips were tingling, and Bachira had already come inside of you—getting off to the sight of his best friend and the girl they were sharing stuck in an intimate lip lockdown.

The last man to take you was drawing it out. He took your face in his hands, nudging you free from Bachira’s grasp and rolling you into his arms.

“Out,” Isagi commanded, in a tone that broke no argument. “Leave me and Y/N alone.”

The rest of the guys began to grumble, but one sharp glare from the terrifying striker was enough to quiet everyone down. Indisputably, Yoichi ran the show, and his ego was bigger than any of theirs combined—the lesser knew when to give way to someone who could devour them without regrets.

Everyone turned to leave, and the last one was Rin who hovered by the doorway, unwilling to abandon you to Yoichi’s devices. The other dark-haired man shot his nemesis a frigid stare that could’ve frozen over Hell’s fires.

“Out, Itoshi.”

The younger man countered his superior’s glare with a mutinous one of his own.

“Who’s to say you won’t hurt her?” Rin’s nostrils flared, flickering his gaze to your closed eyes and limp body. “We can’t trust you with her.”

Isagi snorted. “If you want to watch, be my guest. I’ll fuck her so good she’ll forget about you assholes.”

The competition was on, and you were the final prize for these men to win. But, it wasn’t just your body they wanted—each of them fought to secure your womb so it would grow their fruits and give them the family they dreamed of.

You were their greatest treasure, and they would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you were safe—even watching the other men to make sure none of them would hurt you.

Isagi was a packaged dynamite waiting to blow; he was too unpredictable and Rin would hate himself if he pushed you too far or injured you in any shape or form. He planted himself against the wall, arms folded across his chest while those searing teal eyes watched you gasp and preen for Isagi’s attention.

The dark-haired man was playing with your clit, using the dirtiest tactic to rile you up so you would explode in pleasure for him. His mouth was toying with your swollen nipples, and Rin winced when he bit on the tender nub, earning your shriek. It didn’t take a genius to see you were hanging on the tether of your sanity, and with your body already keyed up to the hundreds, your next orgasm was sure to leave you delirious.

Your small hands wound up in his hair, holding him close despite the excruciating pleasure. If Yoichi was the current wrecking you apart, he was also the life buoy you clung on to as your body coasted on the unending pleasure.

“I don’t even need to make you wet, baby,” he breathed right into the shell of your ear, gripping your hips hard. “You’re already so stretched out for me.”

Your breathing caught, a hitched moan echoing around the room when he sank deep into your heat with little to no prep. Isagi kissed you on your lax mouth, and tasted your tears right on his tongue.

“You okay, baby?” He forced your face to his, and your eyes fluttered open. All you could give was a tired nod, and he grinned down at you. “Okay. Are you ready?”

You nodded again, and that was when another person caught your attention. “Rin?”

“M’here,” the other dark-haired striker murmured, his eyes softening with fondness when you smiled at him. “I’ll make sure you get your rest afterwards.”

You hummed, and the idea of knocking off to sleep sounded so good, your eyes had already slipped close.

“Hey—focus on me, sweetheart.”

Isagi’s hand around your neck squeezed down, cutting off your air supply. You gasped and sputtered, eyes rolling wide open. His grin was feral, touched with a hint of insanity. “Good girl. Now, watch me fuck you, sweetheart.”

He pushed your back onto the pillows, and your eyes instantly went to where you both were connected. Isagi’s pretty cock was smeared with your juices and the other men’s cum, the sight alone so filthy it made your cheeks flush.

“‘Ichi,” you hiccuped, going dumb on every stroke of his heavy cock against your velvet walls. “I-I’m close.”

Your pussy fluttered around his length, the overstimulation touching you like a livewire. He rolled his hips into yours, the sloppy sounds of your pussy getting him higher than any risky goal. There was a reason he went last, and it was because he wanted to savour the sounds you were making; the way your pretty eyes went all glassy and hazy just for him.

Isagi loved you so fucking much, he swore he couldn’t breathe when you started to chant his name.

“‘Ichi, ‘Ichi,” you gasped out, twisting in his grip, your back arching. “K-Kiss me, ‘Ichi.”

He obliged you, ignoring the jealous presence waiting right in the wings, waiting for him to fuck up. But, Isagi was gentle with you. He tenderly planted hot, open-mouthed kisses onto your parted lips, drinking in your sweet whines and mewls of desperation. Isagi himself wasn’t in control of his body; that was the effect you had on him.

You drove him crazy with your supple love and beautiful smiles. Everytime you looked at him, it felt like he had been shot right in the chest. Yoichi was so, so crazy for you, and luckily for him, your feelings were the same.

He let Rin get an eyeful of you licking his lower lip, your treacherous side coming to light when you blatantly showed off your preference for the unassuming striker. The other man looked like he was swallowing shards of concrete, his expression twisted in disgust. But, Isagi had already given him an out and Rin didn’t want to take it—he was stuck with the consequences of his actions.

“Yoichi,” you sighed out his name, all stickily sweet in your high-pitched moan. “I love you, ‘Ichi.”

“Yeah?” Isagi grunted, your little confession going straight to his burgeoning ego. “Say it louder, baby. Tell the whole world what you feel for me.”

“I love you,” your gasp of pleasure when he changed the angle of his driving hips fed the monster inside of him. “I love you!”

“Fuck,” Isagi bit down on your neck, leaving behind a mark for the other men to see. Rin’s own marks were on your shoulders and breasts, but Isagi had gone one step further to make his impression on the tender skin between your neck and jaw—right above your pulse point. It was so every beat of your heart echoed with his imprint and every time any of the boys looked at you, they were reminded of who you loved the most.

“‘Ichi,” you gasped out, and your stuttering hips told Isagi you were already close. Your thighs tensed around him, and he fueled your unravelling further by rubbing on your clit with his rough thumb, the action making you jerk and gasp like you had been electrocuted.

“Yoichi… ‘Ichi… Yoichi!” you cried out his name as your body gave one final push—your release slamming into you with the force of a thousand brick walls, dragging you straight into darkness.

You thought you might’ve died in this instance. Your entire body felt too heavy, and you could physically hear every beat of your heart.

Someone was holding you tightly to his chest, his lips peppering gentle kisses on your face. You pried your eyes open after what felt like two hours trying to recollect your bearings, only to find a pair of teal eyes gazing down at you in worry.

“Baby?” Rin’s voice was soft and unintrusive. He let you get used to the bright light of a warm afternoon—watching you stretch yourself and ease your muscles.

“What time is it?” you asked in a thick voice. Staring down your body, someone had cleaned you up and dressed you in Kunigami’s oversize t-shirt and Rin’s boxers. You felt refreshed and well-taken care of, your entire heart swelling eight times its size to fit your love for every man in there.

Rin leaned forward and you caught his face with your shaky palms, caressing those defined cheekbones.

“You slept for almost an hour. Bachira thought you had died.”

You stifled a giggle, tracing your thumbs over the shape of his mouth. Rin let you pull him in for a kiss, and like the worrywart he was, he didn’t deepen it, not wanting to give into the insatiable lust humming in his veins.

If you thought one horny, touch-starved man was a handful, you hadn’t expected the other seven to come through the door and pile up on the bed, each of them clamouring to cuddle you.

You giggled when Nagi tripped over Reo to snuggle up on your left side, only to be stopped by Bachira who literally yanked the taller man out of the way to steal his place. In the end, you took turns cuddling with each man, their deep sigh of relief that things had turned out great and not as weird as they thought, fed right into your relaxed soul.

As sunlight streamed in through the blinds, the outside world may be in an upheaval, but within these four walls, you were as safe as you could be in your favourite football team’s arms.

©️lalunanymph, 2023

#isagi x you #isagi smut #bachira x reader #bachira smut #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin smut #kunigami x reader #kunigami smut #chigiri x reader #chigiri smut #nagi x reader #nagi smut #reo x reader #reo smut #barou x reader #barou smut #blue lock smut #🦢 writes

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thelostconsultant · 4 months ago

Text

What are we?

pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

summary: After a bittersweet maiden win, Oscar needs his best friend's company. But maybe it's time to put a label on what you two really are.

Since Oscar had other obligations after the race, you waited for him in his driver's room, browsing the internet to see what people had to say about everything that happened today. It was pure chaos out there, and this was a bittersweet win for your friend. He deserved better. Much better than this.

At one point you must have fallen asleep, because you woke up to the bed shifting next to you, and opened your eyes with a short laugh when you felt the newcomer press a kiss on your forehead. “You're done for today?” you asked sleepily.

Nodding, Oscar lied down on his back and put his head in your lap. “I just want some peace and quiet,” he muttered as he closed his eyes. “You weren't waiting for me after the race. I missed you.”

“Didn’t know you wanted me there.”

He opened one eye to look at you. “I always want you there. I need my best friend to be there for me.”

“I'm always there for you, you know that,” you told him with your hand tangled in his hair. “Oh, congrats, by the way. I'm so happy for you!”

To your surprise, Oscar let out a groan. “What a well deserved win, wasn't it?” You gave him a disapproving look that made him reach out to take your hand. “I feel so stupid, I should have refused to overtake Lando when he slowed down.”

“Hey, listen, you were good out there today. You were in the lead until the team fucked you over.” He looked up at you with a sad smile. “You don't believe me,” you said with a sigh.

Oscar suddenly sat up and turned around to face you. “Look, I just… Everyone believes I didn't deserve this win. And it sucks. Last year I won my first sprint race, but everyone forgot about it because Max became the world champion that day. Today I won my first grand prix and everyone's talking about team orders.”

It was easy to spot the pain in his eyes as he watched you, but you had no idea how to make him feel better. He was beating himself up for something that was out of his control, and the sight broke your heart into pieces. He didn't deserve this, he was too nice to go through these emotional rollercoasters.

With a kind smile on your face, you put your palm on his cheek as you leaned closer, letting your lips gently brush against his chin. “You should stop using your brain for a few hours. That would probably help you see clearer later,” you whispered to him.

The corners of his lips curled into a playful smile, and you saw a mischievous glint in his eyes when his lips captured yours in a kiss. People knew you were good friends and that's why you were a regular guest at races, but behind closed doors you were sometimes a little more than that.

It all began around last Christmas, when you visited his family in Australia. His sisters bullied him until he came to let out some steam in your company, telling you about their wild idea that the two of you were secretly dating and he was about to propose, that's why he wanted them to meet you.

Of course, it was stupid, you would never be more than friends. Or so you thought. Because at one point later in the evening, Oscar cornered you in his old room and the two of you somehow fell into his bed. Naked. Happens to the best of us, right?

And ever since then, you were keeping up this friends with benefits situation, having fun occasionally without the commitment of a proper romantic relationship. Although there had been cracks in this setup lately, you knew that deep down. Because when you began flirting with a guy, Oscar became protective and somehow scared him away. You knew it was him. Your almost-boyfriend told you later.

“You should stop thinking too,” he suddenly spoke up as he grabbed your chin and forced you to look him in the eye. “I can tell your head is somewhere else.”

“I'm sorry, you're right,” you told him with a sheepish smile.

“What were you thinking about?”

You didn't want to talk about that, not now. You'd been avoiding this topic for a few weeks now, today just wasn't the day to discuss this. So you did the only thing you hoped could avert his thoughts, and pushed him on his back so you could climb on top of him.

And yet, despite the lustful look in his eyes, he kept talking. “That won't work on me, baby, spit it out,” he said with a smirk as his fingers dug into the plush of your thighs. You didn't respond, instead you pulled off your shirt and reached up to unclip your bra as well. “Nice try.”

You leaned down to kiss him again as your fingernails gently scratched the skin of his abdomen under his shirt. At first he played along, his hands began to roam your body between sloppy kisses, but just when you reached down to unbutton his pants, he was quick to stop you.

“I already told you what's going on in my head, it's your turn now. I want to hear it, otherwise there's no way I'm gonna fuck you today, no matter how badly I want to,” he informed you.

With a sigh, you steadied yourself by putting your hands on his shoulders. “It's silly,” you began, hoping he would let it go, but he just raised an eyebrow and listened carefully. “What do you want from… this?” you asked with your fingers moving back on forth between the two of you.

“Having fun,” was all he said in response.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Okay, but if it's nothing more but fun without commitments, why did you chase Aaron away?” Oscar tilted his head to the side as he tried to figure out who you were talking about, but then a quiet ‘oh’ left his lips when he remembered. “Yeah, he told me you talked to him. Look, I just want to understand what this is right now. I really liked that guy.”

Oscar reached up to pull your head closer to his. “You like me more, don't you?” he asked, his lips hovering above yours as he waited for your response. “Say it.”

“Don't ruin my relationships. Please, Oscar, give me the chance to be happy with someone else,” you whispered with a quiet sob.

“I don't want you to be happy with someone else. I want you to be happy with me.”

Did he really not understand? “I want to go out on dates, I want to have a relationship that I can talk about,” you tried to make him understand. It's been a conversation that was a long time coming anyway.

He nodded, seemingly understanding what you meant. “Then let's be more than what we are now. I'm ready to make it official.”

This made you freeze. “I'm not,” you admitted, which made him give you a confused look. “People think I'm just your best friend, yet some of your fans are speculating that I just want to be famous through you. Imagine how much worse it would be if we were together.”

“Ignore them. They're just jealous.” When he saw you weren't convinced, he spoke up again. “If that happens, just remind yourself that I love you,” he said. You couldn't believe your ears. Did he just say that? “I love you. That's what caught your attention, wasn't it? Look, it's complicated, I know, but we'll figure it out. I promise.”

You believed him. There was sincerity in his voice as he spoke, and the kiss he gave you was full of raw emotions. “You always get what you want, don't you?” you asked with a laugh, to which he only replied with a laugh and a nod.

#oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

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antimonyandthyme · 5 days ago

Note

carcar 28 if you are still doing prompts :)

carcar pt 1; curse of obedience/can’t disobey a direct order

“So,” Oscar says, “if I were to say—”

“Don’t,” Carlos says, all urgent, eyes wider than Oscar’s ever seen them. “Oscar!”

He’ll remember this moment after. Go back to it every so often, when his brain sees fit to carve out versions of himself to dissect. Savage, impulsive. Vindictive even. Couldn’t even have picked something non-life threatening, like Drink this drip coffee, which I know you’d rather die than put on your tongue. Had to go for this.

“—run out into traffic, without looking—”

Carlos stands up so fast the chair clatters behind him. Bit of a shock. Oscar looks around, waits for the crowd to laugh along, for him to be allowed in on the prank. The café’s busy, people rippling past them to get to where they need to be. Carlos turns toward the door.

“Carlos,” Oscar says. The vacant look on Carlos’s face scrapes against Oscar’s bare skin like a grater. “What are you doing?”

Carlos gives no response, eyes trained only on the door. Dimly, Oscar wonders if this is how he looks under the helmet.

No, no. Even while racing, Carlos wouldn’t look like this. Surely, his jaw would run askew, his teeth would find his lower lip, his eyes dance bright and hungry.

“Carlos,” Oscar says again. He barely registers his pulse spiking.

Two steps are all it takes for Carlos to get up to full speed, as if he’s got a rabid dog on his heels. He’s a bullet shot out the door, a blur of red.

Oscar’s supposed to have reflexes made from lightning. Fastest in the world, isn’t he? But he stares, uncomprehending, and stares some more through the endless bay windows, as Carlos, uncaring that the crosswalk’s sign is still red, dashes onto the road. He runs, cutting through the continuous stream of metal as if his body were made of something divine.

A car swerves violently, a honk sounds. The ignition Oscar needs to snap out of his daze. Combustion, power. He propels forward, mouth already formed around syllables.

“Carlos,” he screams. “Carlos, stop! Come back!”

He must not be able to hear me. That must be the only reason Carlos keeps running, narrowly avoiding a speeding motorcycle. What did he say, when Oscar was dismissing his confession as a joke? He said—he’s being made to listen, right? To listen and obey. Oscar just has to reach him, so Carlos can listen.

Carlos is too far ahead, outstripping Oscar with an unrecognizable single-mindedness. Oscar’s yelling himself hoarse, but it’s too loud all around them, tires screeching, tearing at his ears. Chaos around them, Oscar unable to reign it in. Even in the rainiest conditions, he’d been able to find more grip than this.

The crosswalk melts onto the sidewalk, and for a blessed second, Oscar thinks it’s over, that Carlos has done all he’s needed to do, carried out the cruel task Oscar’s laid out for him like the gods before Heracles.

Then Carlos turns the corner, still running.

“Carlos!” Oscar’s face is wet, for some reason. A flickering image of Carlos meeting a car sears itself into the back of his eyelids, spills more liquid out. “Come back, please! Please, god. Come back.”

Clarity, even in panic. If he’s braved speeds most people can’t comprehend, forces that could bend and even break a neck, then what is running blind into traffic?

He doesn’t look as he steps off the curb this time. Adjusts his focus to match Carlos’s. Speeds up in a way that is second nature. A driver swearing at him, a blinding flash from a headlight too close for comfort, but Oscar keeps running. Slowly but surely gaining on his target, overtaking within his reach.

“Stop,” he begs. “Carlos, you can stop now.”

Carlos’s feet ground to a halt.

Momentum carries him to a collision. Oscar flings his arms around Carlos, drags him out of the way just as a truck blares past their intended path.

“Asshole, you fucking asshole.” Big, gulping, uneven inhales. “Why did I, why did I go to you, I’m such an idiot, why did I even think you would, ah, fuck. Fuck.” His voice cracks into tiny pieces. “Stupid, stupid. Such a fucking idiot.”

Oscar tightens his hold around Carlos. Dead man’s grip, he’s not letting go. Even though they’re both shaking so hard each breath feels like a bruise. Carlos’s shoulder knocks into Oscar’s teeth, hard enough to cut his lip. Doesn’t matter, he’s not letting go. Oscar tugs Carlos, still trembling, over to the wall of the deserted street they’ve found themselves in. He sinks to the ground, back against the wall, pulling Carlos down with him.

“Breathe,” he says, a little hysterically. “Carlos, come on. Breathe.”

Deep, deep breaths, swelling through both their bodies. Fuck, fuck. Was that also a command? Could he tell Carlos to stop breathing and would Carlos just stop—

“Breathe!” Oscar nearly shouts, to force all other thoughts out of his head. “Carlos, listen to me, you’re alright.”

“—hate you,” Carlos is saying furiously. Oscar squeezes his eyes shut against the pain that lances through him. Nothing like the sting of his bleeding lip; this settles far deeper. “I can’t believe I, you. You.” More air, sucked through rattling lungs. “I shouldn’t have come to you.”

“Why did you?” Oscar says brokenly. He squeezes Carlos to him, then even though he shouldn’t, shouldn’t be allowed to, buries his forehead in the dip between Carlos’s shoulder blades. Selfishly uses Carlos to buttress himself. “Tell me.”

Another command, he realizes too late. Can he not even be in Carlos’s vicinity without being such a dickhead, fuck.

“I thought you wouldn’t.” Carlos’s chest heaves, his throat forcing out words against his will. “Of all people. You wouldn’t use it against me.”

“I wouldn’t,” Oscar whispers, like the greatest hypocrite in all the earth.

Oscar’s never heard Carlos laugh like that, derisive, painfully disparaging. All those times before, when Carlos had teased him, even after a race mistake, he’s done so maybe a little mockingly, but gently all the same. Prodding at Oscar with his bared teeth, but carefully enough he never broke skin. And now he sounds like he would be happy to be wiped clean of Oscar entirely.

Oscar cringes, tries to hide by burrowing further into Carlos’s back. This must be what being flayed alive feels like.

“You wouldn’t!” Carlos says, voice raising high and thready. “After you tried to kill me. After you made me, made me run like a dog huh? Was that fun for you? You like that, huh?”

Carlos’s shoulders pull uncomfortably taut. His shaking slows, the drug of adrenaline siphoning away. The rhythm of his breath changes, stutters, then quickens. His throat releases something wounded. The arm Oscar has braced against Carlos’s chest catches stray droplets, running off Carlos’s chin.

Oscar’s never going to be able to forget the way Carlos sounds broken down. Can’t do anything. Can’t even say something like, Don’t cry, for fear of stuffing all of Carlos’s tears back into him like a botched surgery.

He holds Carlos closer. Lips on the back of Carlos’s neck like he’s allowed, like he can impart I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry I’m so fucking stupid it will never happen again I promise. I promise.

“Breathe,” he says.

“Leave me alone,” Carlos says weakly.

Nope, no. Never. “Breathe.”

“Just, leave me alone Oscar.” Carlos struggles in Oscar’s grip, a fish caught in a trap. He doesn’t have the leverage to break free, winded as he is, with one arm tucked under his own shirt, fingers pinching his side so hard the flesh’s turned white.

“You’re hurting yourself,” Oscar says softly. “Please let go, Carlos.”

Carlos’s fingers unclench. He lets out a low, hurt whine, frustration, anger at his own helplessness, at having to listen to Oscar. Of all people. “Fuck you,” Carlos says.

By the third time Oscar repeats it, his mind’s made up. “Breathe,” he orders. “Carlos. I’m going to fix this.”

(put that guy in a situation prompts)

#athy texts #fanfic #rpf #carcar #how does he fix this you ask?#well oscar ***** ****** **** *** ****** *** *** ***** ** ** **** *** **** **** *** ****** ******#thank you stevie <3

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moonlight-prose · 1 month ago

Text

PICK YOUR POISON

➻ 01. ATROPA BELLADONNA

a/n: the october season calls for me to delve into the grotesque and gothic story ideas i save up year round. so that's what this is! i love the idea of logan howlett stuck with an immortal reader. but there's a twist. our lovely reader isn't a mutant, but someone cursed to live life in the worst way possible. i hope you enjoy the small journey these two go on and happy spooky season!

summary: life as a lumberjack gives him the freedom to pretend he's human. that he hasn't lived enough lives to leave him withered and weary. ready for the grave that will never come. until he happens upon an unmarked grave in the middle of the forest and his life changes forever.

word count: 4.2k+

pairing: lumberjack!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: NOT EXPLICIT BUT DARK THEMES AHEAD, gothic themes, horror, necrophilia (kind of!), death, graves, vomiting, tw: blood, feral reader, poison, immortal!reader, curses, witchcraft of some kind, chance encounters, they're both a little unhinged in this one.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

The forest is silent save for the rhythmic thump of an axe against wood. Life doesn't exist in the small sphere of dead branches and fallen leaves. No bugs, no birds. The wolves hunt elsewhere; the prey have all but abandoned a place where death permeates the air.

What was nature to do when someone so unnatural had been laid to rest?

He knew he was too far from the predetermined area. The yellow tape was marked for trees ready to be chopped down. But the sound of the men laughing about some bar they found had set his teeth on edge—a rush of anger from deep in his chest now resurfacing quicker than he liked.

Some days were better than others. Some days he could join in on the laughter, make simple conversation, and pretend to be normal.

Other days he felt the clawing urge to bite and snap and dig his claws into flesh rear in his head. Try as he might, he couldn't ignore that unhinged sensation. Even if he wanted to. On those days he preferred to be alone. Away from humanity, separate from what they wanted from him.

They saw him as a man.

Not an animal.

That should be enough to appease his restless spirit; give him some peace after so much chaos.

His teeth ground together in his clenched mouth, sweat sticking to the back of his neck despite the cold weather. The axe felt like an extension of his arms. Hacking away at the base of a tree he knew would make enough noise to draw attention once it tipped. That didn't deter him from repeating his swing. From baring his teeth and growling through it in order to dig out what calm he could.

The blade wedged itself halfway into the bark before he heard it. The stifled scream of a woman. His body went stiff, head whipping around to see if someone had followed him. The instincts from before—days spent as a soldier still burned into his nerves—began to overtake his senses as another muffled scream pierced his eardrums.

He left the axe behind, heart thumping an unsteady beat in his chest as he made for the forest. Trees blocked what little sunlight poured through dense clouds; the air a murky fog that chilled his lungs with each breath. He could taste the sap dripping off tree bark on the tip of his tongue—his mind clinging to the edge of sanity as he moved.

Twigs snapped beneath his boots, leaves cracked with the weight of his body, but Logan couldn't think about moving silently. Someone was getting hurt. He could practically smell their fear. The heady coagulated tang of blood spilled over the forest floor.

"Hello?" he called out, emerging through the thicket of branches.

A small clearing gave way to what little light remained in the afternoon. Petrichor lingered in the pockets of clear air, familiar enough to set his earlier anxieties aside. Fall in Canada shepherded rain forward with a heavy hand.

He knew the woods would be soaked come morning. Any signs of life lost to the pelting drops of rain that dragged hail right alongside it.

His feet stopped at the edge of freshly packed dirt, a shovel tossed to the side with a dent in the metal large enough to resemble the size of a skull. Sucking in air, the hair rose on the back of his neck when the shriek sounded again. Pained. Anguished. As if someone was fighting to claw their way to the surface.

"Fuck," he gasped, dropping to one knee—fingers burrowing in the moist soil and heaving it over to the side. "I'm here. I've got ya!"

Another muffled cry filtered through the layers of dirt as he dug with heaving breaths. Sweat prickled along his forehead, dripping down his temple. The brine of salt dripping onto the already muddy area. What hope he could grasp onto began to slip through his fingers; now dragged beneath the surface of an already haunted forest.

Logan stumbled back when a hand shot through the dirt, piercing the ground by his foot. He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide as an arm appeared, fingers grasping for leverage in the loose topsoil. He'd never experienced terror before. True fear that lingered in the bottom of his chest, echoing a solemn tune he wanted to rip from his flesh. But the sight of someone clinging to life filled his lungs with water.

You could feel it. The dirt and stones that packed themselves beneath your nails, slicing open what remained of the once pretty nail bed. It happened later this time. Took longer than you expected. Crimson blood mixed with the black soil as you vomited what stuffed itself into your lungs; the impacted earth was too heavy for your body to hold onto and thus the result remained the same.

Somehow it felt worse each time.

A cry of agony pierced the brume—splitting open the silence that could no longer exist. And with another heave, you managed to free yourself from a shitty dug grave with barely enough dirt to cover.

Sucking in a lungful of air, you collapsed to the ground. Body nude and streaked with mud. You couldn't tell which parts of you were sliced open this time around, could barely make out the color of the trees through the thick layer of fog. But the leather brown boots two feet away caught your attention instantly.

With a whimper, you lifted your head—eyes latched onto the broad man above you who looked ready to lose his breakfast, or join you on the ground. Perhaps both with the way his paled face stilled at the sight of you.

Of course, the time it took to return would fuck up your plans for solitude. Of course, you would have company at the worst possible moment.

This part was never easy.

"Hi," you meekly rasped, voice entirely gone from how many times you screamed.

Harrowing silence became the space that hung between your body and his. You curled your toes to force the blood back down through your veins. Hands holding an unsteady shake that would take a good hour to dissipate. You began to notice the color of his flannel—a deep umber with lines of brown. The scent of cedar permeating the air; sap a thick sweetness you could practically taste in the back of your throat.

Senses took a few moments to return back to their original vigor. Yet you couldn't allow yourself to slip into the you from twelve hours ago.

Not when the man still watched you, eyes overflowing with dread. You wondered if he was real. Would he flinch if you swung a fist at his shin? Or was your dilapidated mind conjuring him in a hallucinatory haze you'd eventually break free from.

Pushing yourself up on trembling limbs, you managed to contort your half paralyzed body into a sitting position. The feeling would return to your numb core; the steady drip of life slowly seeping back into your veins the longer you remained still.

Movement seemed to puncture a hole in his stupefied mind—yanking him back to reality. He dropped to one knee with a heavy exhale. "Who the fuck did this to you?"

You wanted to laugh. You nearly did laugh.

How were you meant to tell this complete stranger that you in fact...did this to yourself?

"Are you cold?" he asked as if you still held the capability to speak.

When it became clear you had no intention of offering him any sort of explanation, he promptly cussed under his breath. Hands stripping off the brown leather jacket that hung over his clearly muscled form. You tried to shake your head, hoping he'd get the hint and simply leave you alone.

The cold didn't harm your already frozen skin. Not when a rush of blood coursed through you—pumping an unhealthy amount of adrenaline back to your now racing heart.

He draped the heavy fabric over you anyways, securing it to cover what skin he could. His eyes fixed on the side of your face. What a goddamn gentleman. Hilarity of this entire situation flickered brightly in your mind, forcing a jolt through your body that had him rearing back a few inches.

He must not be used to the sight of someone coming back from the dead.

No one would be. Unless they understood your current predicament.

"Do you have someone I can call?"

Again...silence became all that lingered in your mirrored confusion. You pleasantly discovered that you liked the sound of his voice. He felt his stomach churn with the eggs he scarfed down an hour and a half ago. Oh what a hapless pair you made. Two strangers bound in this tight knit bond of befuddlement.

"Can you speak?" He pushed for you to give him something.

You nodded, trailing the curve of his jaw with your gaze. If you had to guess his profession, you'd pick lumberjack. That made the most sense as to why he found himself standing at the foot of your grave trying to help you escape it.

Although you supposed he might have just been on a stroll through the woods; seeking time to himself. An escape from the busy world above ground. You peered into his clouded hazel eyes - plucking what you could from her expressions alone. This was a man who didn't seem drastically horrified by the sight of you coming back to life. Rather lost in murky thoughts of how.

Again the aforementioned question you loathed answering left his plush lips.

"Who did this to you?"

Sighing, you felt the blood begin to rush to your legs, a tingle of awareness entering your system. You were coming back from the state of rigor mortis. Which meant that stick around here would no longer be an option. As much as you were inclined to entertain the idea of getting to know him, the reality was far too bleak for him to accept.

He was a mere human, you were something else. It would never work.

“What’s your name?”

Agitation clearly lined his nerves the longer he crouched beside you. He’d never receive the knowledge he wanted, never get to the bottom of this otherwise grueling mystery. The longer you stayed, the harder it would be to leave. Putting him out of his misery now was the only option you had.

The only one that might guarantee his safety.

“Please. Let me help you.” His sincerity struck your heart, causing it to twist until the jagged edge of pain spread through your entire body.

They always sounded this way.

Hopeful. Intrigued.

Too many people, too many broken souls.

The path of your existence was littered with unsalvageable pieces of those you allowed to wander into your life. You refused to say goodbye to someone who clutched your love too tightly. Who never understood what this meant—the horrid depth of what you were forced to endure. You’d never be able to find freedom in love, never find hope that things might one day be different.

Eventually your curse would kill them in the end. And you—the sole survivor—would be left to pick up the fragmented shards of your armored walls.

With a pained groan you stumbled to your feet—legs shaking like a fucking fawn right after birth. He shot up beside you, hands outstretched in case you collapsed. But after so many years, you’d grown used to the sensations of a body that fought against you. The sight of him made you grin; a man so large, so imposing, somehow looked small compared to your mangled body.

Oh, how you’d remember him.

Tucking his kindness into the depths of your heart—fondly looking at it more often than you’d ever admit.

Dragging the leather jacket off your shoulders—much to his dismay—you tucked it back into his grasp. For a brief moment, you traced the shape of his eyes with your gaze. Solidifying the hazel in your mind, the hints of dark umber speckled through the iris. Eyes that would haunt you for years to come.

You wanted to ask what caused him such anguish—what had he been through—to hold an unfathomable amount of grief in eyes so tender.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the unbearable scratch in your throat dissipating the longer you were alive.

“Wait–”

With surprising quickness, you walked past him, trembling with each step. Your stomach gnawed at your insides—the vacant sensation in your body determined your next course of action. Where you were heading with no need for direction.

This wasn’t unusual. Hours spent in the ground was bound to force your body to find its sustenance one way or another. Even if you weren’t technically alive. The adrenaline would wane, leaving you rattled—in a panic about the way your soul plunged into an infinite expanse of darkness. A place with no path.

Over the decades you managed to get a handle on your body;s tells. The routine it formulated to deal with the ancient magic coursing through your veins. Sparks of a past self never to be touched again; no matter how much you bargained.

Heavy footsteps trailed after you, entirely unaware that silence wasn’t his forte. He still clutched the jacket aimlessly, unaware that the temperature dropped rapidly the longer he remained outside. You’d grown used to the behaviors of men who found you. Their incessant need to follow, to see if they could get away with what they wanted.

The same fucking song and dance; a battle you learned to evade swiftly and without mercy.

You stuck to the carved pathway created by your own footsteps trekking the same ground over the span of many years. Those who worked this deep in the forest rarely stuck around to find out who dared to live this far away from humanity. Many assumed an old psychotic woman, man, or spirit, resided in the run-down cabin.

Others whispered of a witch cursed to roam in darkness for all eternity.

Though both were merely myths spread by bored townsfolk.

You often wondered what they would do if they found out that neither strayed far from the actual truth.

Each year that came and went people dared themselves to check—to see for themselves if the stories held a bit of authenticity to them. They more often than not, left scared out of their wits at the sight of a naked woman trailing dirt in across the threshold of an archaic home.

Your shadow persisted in his personal mission—five feet away, lumbering through the silent forest like a bear with no real direction. Scaring him off should have been your first priority. You knew the longer you sanctioned this behavior the harder it’d be to get him to fuck off.

Although you couldn’t deny the instantaneous attachment you felt for a man with such a tortured soul.

Perhaps some part of yourself could see the fragments that went missing harbored in his heart.

Like a fool, you continued on the familiar trail—giving yet another aimless person leeway in your life. Regret hung heavy in your heart—a promise of what would inevitably come to pass screaming in the icy air.

Your breath forms a cloud with each puff; the exertion far too much for your freshly revived body to handle. Later when you were adjusted once more, the remorse would return within each stiff joint that pleaded for an ounce of rest. Whether you wanted to partake in the act never remained up to you—rather an inescapable future that awaited you with open arms.

The cabin stood on the remnants of an old cemetery. Bits of cracked stones that once housed names were scattered around the front. Moss clung to walls built of worn in bricks that had seen better days. You liked each part of your home. The haunting beauty that kept others out, gave you the solace you needed on days like this. Here you could pretend you were a normal person, not someone stuck with the scars of wounds that never remained.

Of pain you held no proof of.

The path was lined with plants of varying species. None of them should have survived the weather in Canada, yet like you they persisted.

Just as fucking stubborn and determined to remain alive.

Kicking a loose stone over, you reached for the rusting iron key lodged into damp dirt. The man stopped speaking long before he followed you here. Probably coming to the same conclusion they all did. You were not going to listen to a single thing that came out of his mouth.

You had to hand it to him. He knew where he stood in a situation like this—given your relatively calm exterior.

The door creaked with a weathered groan as you pushed it open. A bag of grave dirt hung on a nail in the wall to your left, an old shovel stood propped against the entryway, and a trail of dried herbs were suspended from the ceiling. You inhaled the scent of home with a grin; finally at ease within the place you knew well. A line of hooks held blankets for this very situation—heavy wool lined coats beside them.

Instead of grabbing one, you reached for what was still tucked in the pocket. The thud of his boots against the front step echoed loud in your ear. That seemed to be all you needed to hear the warning bells signal in the back of your mind. Allowing him to shadow you had been fun, but the truth still glared in your direction.

You didn’t know this man—you never would.

Better safe than sorry.

Spinning your heel, you jammed the silver dagger against his throat, forcing him to stumble back. His hands clutched at your wrists, eyes wide with the shock of what just happened. You didn’t want to admit that a small part of you liked seeing him this way. Yet no fear could be found in the darkened hazel. Merely a hint of concern—pity.

That only served to piss you off. He dared to follow you home, thinking he could enter your house without permission. In such a case as this you faced him with the fire that fueled your inhumane rage. The match struck against your heart, igniting sparks that existed long before he was ever born.

“You’re not welcome here,” you spit, eyes narrowed and lips pulled into a snarl.

He held every right to look at you as if you were a feral animal he accidentally cornered. You knew you resembled one. Right down to your hackles being raised—bloodlust burning in your glare. If he wasn’t careful, he would wind up with a split open throat and you’d have one hell of a mess to clean.

“I’m not gonna hurt ya,” he murmured.

“You followed me home.”

Swallowing thickly, Logan felt an old familiar ache rise in his chest at the sight of you. He’d been where you stood once. Desperate to be left alone; angry at a world who abandoned him. The thought of you believing the worst in him left bile climbing the back of his throat, shame burning hot in his stomach.

“Just wanted to see if you were okay.”

You grinned yet a dullness remained at the center of your eyes. “I’m alive. You can go.”

“You crawled out of a grave,” he growled.

Only to be met with one of your own. “No shit.”

“You live alone.” The knife pressed down against his skin, red welling to the surface in an instant. “Who put you there?”

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

You held no reservations against cutting him open. You’d done it before and would do it again in a heartbeat. Logan could see that clear as day. This wasn’t about him attempting to help. He’d surpassed that half a mile ago when you began to walk it off like you knew what was happening. And perhaps he was stupid to keep standing there in a pathetic attempt to tame you.

But he needed to know what happened.

Simply for the sake of his own sanity.

“I won’t hurt you bub,” he echoed, releasing your wrists with a soft exhale. “That’s not why I came.”

The anger dulled like the blade of your knife at the sound of his voice. Putting your faith in someone to uphold their words wasn’t something you excelled at. In fact, you found it was easier to bite first before you even bothered to bark at them. A feral animal who held no sense of safety—who thrived in bitter chaos and would until the very end.

But for the first time…you found yourself unable to fight against someone who stood before you like a mirror from a past life. The anguish in his eyes resembled your own. A fractured window that spilled light along the darkness, even if it didn’t belong. Even if you were born to exist in the vacant nothingness they put you in.

“Help me out here,” he murmured.

Before you could silence it, you laughed. Short and stunted and still layered in the gritty rasp from earlier.

“Fuck you.”

He sighed, stepping forward—his throat opening even further. You expected him to flinch, cuss loud enough to scare the varying corvid that often perched in the trees, but all that remained was that damn sincerity. The echo of a man who you somehow understood exactly what ran through your mind even before you let him in on the secret.

Logan kept his eyes locked on yours, even when his body screamed for something else. He wasn’t a stranger to having a blade to his throat, nor to violence in general. But even with the intent of killing him clear in your gaze, he knew something else stirred beneath the surface of your mind. He latched onto the quick pace of your heart, clamoring for a deeper look behind the walls of your impenetrable armor.

“I know what it’s like.” Your eyes went wide for a brief second before you resumed your previous stance. That remained enough for Logan to feel he touched on exactly the right thing.

“You don’t know anything.”

“Believe me bub,” he retorted, lips curling into a half-hearted grin. “I know what not dying feels like. Even if you want to.”

The breath was punched from your lungs, body going still as the waves of disbelief washed over you. He grasped your wrist gently, prying the knife from his throat, and you watched his skin stitch itself back together. The only remnants of your violent act was left in a stain of red he promptly wiped off.

You had half a mind to try again. Test the proof he so blatantly showed you without an ounce of shame. He seemed to catch onto your interest quicker than you expected—his palm spreading wide beneath yours and hand forcing the blade along his skin. A gasp fell past your lips at the sight of his body healing rapidly—the cut nonexistent within seconds.

Logan felt pride pierce his chest. Unfamiliar and yet entirely welcome.

“How…”

“I’ll explain it bub,” he uttered, drawing your attention back to him. “If you tell me the truth.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

He huffed, moving close enough to feel the warmth emanate from your bare skin. “I’m pretty good at spottin’ bullshit. Someone put you in that grave.”

“Yes.” Blindly you reached for a jacket behind you, slipping it on as his eyes took in the small bits of your home he could see. “I did.”

His head snapped back to you, lips set in a firm line. “What do you mean you did?”

“It’s a long story.” You waved your hand as you tied the jacket’s belt around your waist.

“I got enough time to hear it.”

Turning back towards the entryway of your home, you didn’t bother to bite back the smile that bloomed across your face. Somewhere in the back of your mind the voices of years past shrieked in horror at the choices made in the past hour.

How could you drag another soul into the darkness? Torture them with the duress of your life—of what you were forced to endure. Was it merely to appease the growing ache of loneliness that gnawed at your heart. A constant hunger you could never satiate.

He didn’t deserve what came next.

No one did.

But you were a selfish person who had tolerated far too much—who gave up every piece of your heart to keep others safe. For years you claimed you were better off alone. Only for the sight of his ability to fracture that part of yourself in two, burying it in a shallow grave with the hopes of no resurrection.

One day you’d come to regret your choice. You always did.

Tonight however you would give yourself this. Time spent in the company of another, even if it might end in a tragic disaster.

“Would you like some dinner?” you asked over your shoulder, too afraid of what his response might be.

His lips pulled into a grin as he crossed the threshold of your home—placing his jacket on the now vacant hook. “I’d love some.”

note: i handwrote a giant portion of this & proceeded to type it on my brother's laptop. so if there's mistakes forgive that. i don't have a laptop rn and i'm working with literal scraps.

#logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett #my writing

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thewrothode-if · 1 year ago

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A historical low fantasy interactive fiction game set during the Viking Age.

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on historical events, people, and places. Some locations and characters are fictional, while others are not.

You were born to a mother who went mad and a father who grew to hate you.

A quiet night erupted into chaos as your mother, possessed by a force unknown, attempted to kill you. Years later, with your father now Jarl, he orders you to investigate the eerie silence enveloping his settlement in England.

The more you learn, the bigger it all seems to be. More Viking settlements are targeted and you are the only one who seems to have any sense of stopping it.

All the while, the voices in your mind swell and surge, a relentless tide which threatens to envelop your very soul.

"S̵̛̻̼̻̝̺̠̞̟͙̈́h̴͖͉͎̥͓̺̣̽͜ë̶̡̤̠̪͖̖́̎̽̄̀̏̂̚’̵̨͖̱͘s̵̢̨͔͇̟̳̙̹̙̜̊̀͂͗̑͗ ̵͙̜͙̮̘͎̘̝̭̆͂̓h̴͇͋̓e̷̛͈̮̼̿̌̅͗͠r̸̪̃͒͘͝ě̸̂͌̈̓͂́͝ͅ.̷̨̛̩̦̩̟͌͒́̿̒͜͠"

Play as a male or female.

Romance four characters with one secret option.

Have any choice be considered romantic, even if it's as simple as a grunt.

Shape your viking’s personality and see how other's react when you switch it up.

Choose which god you will follow; Mímir, Magni, Hermóðr or ….?

Will you let it overtake you?

♢THYRA - THE COLD WARRIOR. [F] She is cold and relentless in her efforts to snub you, yet her presence always lingers about. She is what you would call a friend, even though she would refuse such a title. When she is forced to accompany you to England, she seems to change. Enemy-friends to lovers, [REDACTED], tsundere.

♧GUNGIR - THE JARL'S SECOND-HAND. [M] He’s a gentle giant, always trying to befriend you, but you hate him. He is the ‘son’ your father always wanted. Though he never says it outright, you see it in the way he offers him a love you would never receive. So you have vowed to the gods above that no kindness will ever be shown to him, at least, not from you. Enemies to lovers (one-sided), puppy love, forced proximity.

♤RAUD - THE [REDACTED]. [M] A childhood friend from your past. He was a soft and gentle child, but now he’s changed. He’s a [REDACTED] and he has all forgotten your past together. When he looks at you, it’s filled with the desire to [REDACTED], not with the fondness once held in his eyes. Childhood friends to ??? to lovers, amnesia.

♡ANNE - THE STRANGE BARD. [F] A strange and merry woman you met in England. She says she’s a simple bard, playing her lute any chance she gets. Yet when she begs to come along on your voyage, your mistrust of her is unwavering. Strangers to lovers, [REDACTED], sunshine love.

☆??? - ??? [M] ??? Forbidden love, huge red flag, dark secret.

____________________________ Demo - here Forum - here RO: intros - here

Word Count: Prologue: 21,936. Chapter 1: 95,506. Chapter 2: Working on it! Total: 117,442.

#if: intro #interactive fiction #interactive novel #interactive game #interactive if #status: wip #status: demo #thewrothode

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kmesons · 2 months ago

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tumblr user kmesons will ask if anybody's made one of their favourite rarepairs try to kill each other yet and not wait for an answer

(there is context for this) (it is under the cut if you're interested but don't feel obligated to read my excessive rambling)

essentially, this is part of an AU I've come up with regarding these two and their respective lords. if I was able to write efficiently I would definitely write this but I cannot (on account of The Perfectionism) so I will relay a condensed version here.

wiggly is, for petty rivalry reasons, looking to mess with his dear brother pokotho. crucially, he knows that one timeline is set to undergo the apotheosis, as per pokey's wishes. presumably, this isn't the tgwdlm timeline, but we don't know yet whether that is the only timeline where this occurred, so I'll assume not unless this is confirmed as canon. it really doesn't matter to the AU, as its events take place before tgwdlm could occur.

if there's anything pokey despises, it's things not going his way, his perfect spectacle being meddled with. wiggly knows this, and he wants to capitalise on it using the soon-to-be-apotheosised timeline.

thus, wiggly sends his disciple, wiley, to this timeline, with the instructions to kill a certain paul matthews and introduce the singular voice's leading man early. paul doesn't know emma's name yet and the meteor will not be coming for several months, at least. pokey's contagion doesn't exist in any timelines at this point. however, by drawing on a little bit of the black and white's (and specifically pokey's) power, the apotheosis can be incited in a corpse (this isn't canon, just a concept I came up with to supplement the AU). importantly, pokey won't notice the stealing of his power or the addition of infected!paul to his consciousness, since this timeline is already saturated with his interference. the hive mind always embodies pokey's will, and it was always his will to apotheosise this timeline, so, though the stage is not yet set, the hive mind will not hesitate to go through with the overtaking of humanity.

wiley obeys wiggly (there isn't a choice, really) and expects to leave after the apotheosis has been kickstarted. however, with no new orders from wiggly, against his better judgement, he sticks around after infected!paul stirs.

on the lords' side, pokey finds out about wiggly's "gift" fairly quickly, and is predictably furious that his show has been ruined. with no heroic journey for his protagonist and the hive mind's brain leading the apocalypse, there can be no climax, no victorious narrative. hatchetfield is quickly overtaken as pokey and wiggly have an eldritch sibling standoff in the black and white.

eventually, they come to a tense agreement: pokey won't interfere with wiggly's apocalypse as revenge as long as he gets to remold the ruined timeline to his liking.

the events of tgwdlm are enacted by the infected in hatchetfield, "resetting" the narrative (although not infected!paul's memories), and pokey's contagion spreads across the world in the way he was originally planning. wiley finds themself visiting this timeline often, mostly to see paul. the two cause chaos together and just generally make each other worse (affectionate).

after the hive mind has succeeded, tensions once more rise between wiggly and pokey. this timeline, in wiggly's eyes, has no uses, as not only is it "imperfect", but the apocalypse has taken place and pokey has gotten what he wanted. pokey wants to hold onto it just to spite wiggly. important to this part of the plot is the idea that there are limited timelines, and an adjacent (and likely canon-divergent) idea that new ones can be created only as long as the limit has not been reached. in this case, the maximum number of timelines exist, which means that one must be destroyed (again, all of this likely does not make sense in canon, which is why I'm calling it an AU) in order for the lords (wiggly) to have a new one to play with.

in order to convince pokey to get rid of the timeline, wiggly reasons that he must ruin this one. permanently. and what better way to do so than to kill the hive mind's brain, pokey's prophet?

only the black blade can eliminate those imbued with the lords' power (I am. making this up. this is not canon), and so, once again, wiley kneels before wiggly, and once again, wiggly's directions are clear: kill paul matthews. or rather, this time, kill what used to be paul matthews. and if anything—some inane attachment, perhaps—gets in the way, wiggly will finish the job for him.

wiley obliges, entering the apotheosised timeline for the last time, by which point pokey has learned of his brother's plot. cue Epic Battle between wiggly's forces (the sniggles? I suppose? I'm not entirely certain) and the hive mind as wiley makes his way towards the starlight theatre, where he knows paul will be waiting.

this is the part where they try to kill each other

as much as infected!paul is undead and the prophet of a deity, his true strength is in the hive. he does not win this fight. wiley doesn't really win either, but paul's the one who dies.

if you read all of that (or just scrolled past it, which is fine too), then congratulations (I am so sorry)! here's an alternate version as compensation

#it's been a while since I last drew these guys #was going to submit this for rarepair week but opted to keep it confined to my blog #this image and AU have been stuck in my mind for. so long #I apologise for this. just overall #made inevitable #appletheosis #wilbur cross #infected!paul #my art #tw blood #tw gore #tw death #tw stabbing #<- just in case #hatchetfield

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universallychaoticpan · 2 years ago

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Hi dear! How are you? How have you been?I'm sorry for bothering, but can I request Chuuya and Dazai fighting for y/n? And how would it be? You can ignore this if you want!

Thank you for reading this, have a lovely day!!<3

Ok ok ok I'm back! Hello! Sorry for not posting, shits been wierd. Anywho, I had to write this as chaotic mafia trio Dazai and Chuuya bc two petty teenagers who are also super powerful? The chaos is endless. Hope you enjoy this and come back soon :))

The three of you weren't kids anymore. That much was completely obvious. But you weren't adults, either. You had entered the acne prone, awkward crushes, too-long limbs and growing pains era of your lives. That's right;

the unholy trinity of the port mafia had become true teenagers.

While never truly disciplined the way the rest of the mafia was, the three of you still took orders. That changed, to Mori's growing irritation, the older you got. At nineteen, the three of you were all but flipping him the finger any chance you felt you could get away with it. (Always.) But aside from making Mori wished he could shoot all of you in the foot, the boys had their own problems. And that problem had a name that meant death by the time it was 15; that problem had bright eyes and a wicked smile and smelled like the sweet cold of a winter morning.

Y/n L/n, final third of the mafia's prodigies, was a problem. And it just so happened that today was your birthday.

Like always, you were up with the sun; and no, you didn't get up. But the light from the sun was gentle through your windows, the sheets were perfect on your skin, and-

and there was a thud coming from outside your door.

Only two people in the world would dare make that much noise this early. And when you swung the door open, you were faced with the cheeky smile of one Osamu Dazai.

"Goooood morning y/n!!" He sang as he presented an arm of roses to you with a grandiose bow. "And happy birthday!" Stepping into your room, he leaned in while you shut the door behind you. "We're gonna get so fucked up today."

For all of his bravado, though, he could still feel his heart in his throat when you pulled his shirt front and muttered, "for both your sakes, I don't want to be able to walk straight for a week after today."

"Oh y/n," he laughed, "you'll be lucky if we're done celebrating a week after today. Now pack your bags; we wont be back."

An hour later, freshly showered and dressed, you sat with a coffee outside a small cafe when idiot number two appeared. Similarly to the first, he was trying to hide the blush on his cheeks when you smiled at him, oblivious to what you were doing to him. Gently, he pressed a small black box into your hands and kept his eyes on yours as they widened. The knives were stunning- long handled and perfectly crafted, the tips on the blades so fine their promised to draw blood at the smallest touch. But at the base of the hilt, two silver letters curved through the metal, studded with diamonds so small and delicate you nearly thought them one solid stone. Your initials in diamonds, on the most beautiful knives you'd ever seen.

Chuuya couldn't stop himself from raising his middle finger behind your back to the bench Dazai was spying from not too far way as you hugged him.

The well off drink champagne at birthday dinners.

The wealthy drank cognac and whiskey.

But three extravagant 20 year olds had found themselves in the vineyards of Italy, surrounded by pyramids of rainbow bubbles, wines, and amber liquids just begging to be tasted. All through the surrounding olive trees, small golden lights flashed to peculiar rhythms, all set around a round table set with the richest food you could imagine. Once again, Chuuya had Dazai beat- the wine fanatics dinner arrangements were nothing short of impeccable. But after hours eating, laughing, drinking, (and running from club to club until three in the morning) it was Dazai's turn again. Back on a plane you went, sleep overtaking you as you flew south. When you woke up again, the world had changed into a tropical paradise; one you would find out Dazai had taken the liberty of reserving for the three of you.

Two days on the island had treated you well; you sighed happily as you stretched out, the sun beaming down on your now-glowing skin. Down at the water, Dazai and Chuuya tried to pretend like each wasn't watching the other watch you.

"Private island? really?" Chuuya's voice was full of comtempt as he tried to shove Dazai under the crystal blue waves.

"You're one to talk, Mr. Monogrammed knives."

"At least I opened with something better than roses. What movie did you get that cliche from, asshole?"

"Oh just wait." Dazai's smirk meant whatever it was, Chuuya wouldn't like it. "Once the sun goes down, it's over for you, Nakahara."

Feet bare, you stepped onto the sleek boat, the water turning gold with the last shreds of sun. As your island became smaller and smaller, the water grew darker and darker around you. The stars came out, the moon appeared, and then, just as the boat had slowed, you dipped your feet into the waves.

And the water lit up.

When your feet touched the warm surface, it lit up in fluorescent blue. Gasping, you swept your hand through to the same effect- hearing your laugh, Dazai knew you'd seen, and held your shoulders while you leaned over the edge.

"Gorgeous, isn't it?" Your amazed laugh was all the response he needed. With renewed fervor, the boat moved through the waves, sending light across the rippling ocean. You stayed there for hours- floating in the calm sea of the coast of your island, swimming in the perfect waves, and falling asleep all over one another on the way back.

Both were respecting to go back to their own cabins after saying goodnight to you- after arguing over who'd done better this year of course, but you didn't give them the chance. One second, you were laughing like kids again, the next, all three of you were passed out, Dazai's head on your lap and your head resting on chuuya's shoulder.

And right then, it didn't matter who loved who- it was just you and your friends and three people always ready to kill, die, and party like the world was ending.

But only if you got to do it together.

#dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd

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its-avalon-08 · 10 months ago

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charles leclerc x reader part 1

themes

enemies to lovers redbull v/s ferrari female driver overprotective max and checo spice maybe?? warning - none in this chapter

Chapter 1: The Lioness and the Prancing Horse

The Monaco sun beat down on the Red Bull garage, reflecting off the sleek, silver RB24 and turning the air into a shimmering haze. Inside, the usual pre-race symphony played out - mechanics scurrying, engines humming, and Max Verstappen barking orders at his engineers with the ferocity of a lion protecting his pride. But amidst the chaos, there was Y/N, her helmet resting on the pit wall, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she watched Carlos Sainz struggle with his new hair gel.

"Mate, you look like you stuck a cactus on your head," Y/N cackled, the sound echoing through the garage. Carlos, ever the good sport, just grinned and swiped a strand of her fiery hair, sending them both into a fit of giggles.

Their laughter was punctuated by the gruff voice of Checo Perez. "Oye, tranquila Y/N! Save some energy for the race, no?" he chuckled, ruffling her hair with a giant hand.

Y/N, at 22, was the youngest driver on the grid and the first female in F1 history. Her arrival had been a meteor shower, blazing a trail of wins and controversy. Her driving was a whirlwind of attack and precision, leaving even seasoned veterans breathless. But it was her personality, her infectious laughter and ability to make friends with everyone (except Charles Leclerc, of course), that truly set her apart.

Except, Max Verstappen, the reigning champion, and Sergio Perez, her teammate, weren't just teammates; they were her big brothers. They'd taken her under their wing since her rookie year, fiercely protective of the lioness they saw in her.

"Easy there, Checo," Max interjected, his voice a low growl. "Y/N needs to be fired up, not calmed down. Remember Baku?"

Baku, where Y/N had pulled off a daring overtake on Charles in the final corner, winning the race by a hair's breadth and leaving the Ferrari driver fuming. Their rivalry was legendary, a dance of aggression and respect that often teetered on the edge of physicality.

"Still say it was a dirty move," Carlos piped up, a playful jab at Y/N.

"Oh, please," Y/N scoffed, her smile turning into a predatory grin. "Leclerc's just salty he can't handle a woman passing him."

The banter continued, a familiar rhythm of pre-race nerves and camaraderie. But beneath the surface, Max, Checo, and even Carlos, harbored a secret suspicion. They saw the way Y/N's eyes lingered on Charles, the way her smile softened when he wasn't looking. They saw the unspoken tension, the charged atmosphere whenever they were together.

"Think there's more to their fire than just competition, eh Max?" Checo asked, his eyes twinkling.

Max frowned, his mind replaying the way Charles had looked at Y/N after the Baku race, a mixture of anger and something else, something deeper. "Don't know, Checo. But one thing's for sure, this season's gonna be a hell of a ride."

And as the roar of engines filled the air, Y/N slipped into her helmet, the lioness ready to pounce. Her eyes, however, couldn't help but dart towards the scarlet Ferrari, searching for a glimpse of the man who both infuriated and intrigued her. Today, she would prove him wrong. Today, the lioness would take the jungle.

To be continued...

@cmleitora

#carlos sainz #charles leclerc #f1 imagine #lando norris #max verstappen imagine #carlos sainz imagine #imagines #y/n

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ef-1 · 8 days ago

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So.. I’ll try to recap everything. Bit of rain at the start, during formation lap Stroll crashed, they aborted the start but Lando and racing bulls still did a double formation lap followed by other drivers (some like Bottas and Verstappen turned off their engine instead) and now they’re still under investigation. Race started 25min later. At some point Sainz went out, Hulk too and we got a VSC. Almost everyone pitted under VSC but the moment Hulk was back on track (he will get a black flag to that) Russel and Norris went to pit and lost 1-2 because Ocon, Ver e Gasly stayed out. Rain got worse, SC went out, Colapinto crashed and race was red flagged (free pitstop for everyone). They started with SC. General chaos. Ver overtake Ocon. Fight Lawson-Hamilton-Perez for 10th. Team orders at McLaren. But in the end Ver won and double podium for Alpine.

Mercedes is under investigation for tires pressure with both cars.

And I probably forgot few things 😅

#I LOVE STUPID SHIT SO MUCH #THANKS A TRILLION BABY ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

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the-antiapocalyptic-man · 1 month ago

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I love how you connect various characters and power sets to the lanterns and emotional spectrum, whether it’s the various lantern corps. Or the red, green and others from the swamp thing and animal man comics, and recently that amazing green arrow art, what other characters do you think tap into that same power source in the headverse? I’ve always wondered if the emotional spectrum is some filtered version of the source, or that maybe it has ties with the lords of order and chaos … I just get so inspired by your creativity it really lights a fire in me 😁

Always glad to inspire

so actually the Emotional Spectrum being a filtered version of the Source is exactly what I was thinking, but as a consequence of the eternal tension between the (Light) Source and The Great Darkness. The Darkness predates The Source and instinctively seeks to consume it, the site of contact between the two creating material reality (The "Pankosmos" or "Pankosmik"). The Source manifested consciousness in the form of The Presence (often conflated with the Christian God, but ultimately distinct) and life itself in the form of The Entity, filtering out into the Spectrum Entities, its "children" (Umbrax, Lovebird, Proselyte, Adara, Ion, Parallax, Ophidian, Butcher, and Raedan/Hate Machine) while the Great Darkness began mimic this process, creating Nekron and Barbatos, corrupting Eclipso, and manifesting an "Anti-Presence" or Primordial God of Darkness.

The Lords of Order and Chaos initially emerged from opposite sides of this divide (The Source and Gemworld for Order, The Great Darkness and Darkworld for Chaos) but the division blurred over eternity as being living in material reality grew beyond the Manichaen Us-Them Dichotomy of Light and Dark. Just as the multiverse is a product of the interaction between opposing forces, so is everything within it. The Source being released from its Wall would be just as devastating as the Great Darkness overtaking material reality, if not moreso. This came to a head twice in Proto-History and Hyper-Ancient human history with Krona's vision of the Empty Hand on Maltus, and again with Garn Daanuth and Garn Ahri'ahn (descended from the Omega Humanoids that populated the Garden of Eternity before it was rendered barren and became the Rock of Eternity) struggling over Darkworld leading to the deluge that sunk Atlantis, Lemuria and Mu and trapped Skartaris in a pocket dimension. Many of the refugees of the Garn Civil War ended up on Xerox (The Sorceror's World or "Gemworld") though Xerox itself wouldn't created until far into the future, unstuck from Hypertime by its overwhelming mystical energy.

Predating the Maltusians reverse-engineering Lantern technology from Volthoom, the Spectrum itself was wilder and less controlled, appearing like mystical fire and becoming the basis of the Starhearts. Obvs this powers Alan and Jade (Green), The Sorovs and the Church of Blood (Red), Cobalt Blue (Blue), The Amazons' Purple Ray (Violet), Despero (Indigo), and various Wizards and Warlocks (Orange and Yellow). The Black Flame is particularly dangerous, resurrecting the dead but sublimating their will entirely to Nerkon.

#dc #headverse #au #ask #deep lore

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twstjam · 1 year ago

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And if I were someone else (would this be easier?) - Part 1

If you woke and I was gone From the house that we made our home Would it bend you, break you, overtake your heart Like it did my own? (Easier by the Crane Wives)

Ship(s): Friends to Lovers Malleyuu

Word count: 3k

Summary: Your fae friend Tsunotarou had cursed the King. If you want to live, you're going to have to kill him.

Or: Actually, this one is pretty straightforward I think.

Masterlist

AO3 Link

Tsunotarou is fae.

You'd known this the moment you set eyes on his pale face. The sparkling magical lights lingering around him had made your unexpected company visible to you even in the inky darkness of the abandoned manor's grounds. Despite what he evidently was, you didn't turn him away.

Curious about his presence, you had greeted him like anyone would a stranger. You knew of course the conflict currently going on between the humans and the fae, but you also couldn't imagine that just saying "hi" to someone could hurt anyone.

"Hi." led into "Who are you?" , which then turned into "Good evening." s, and then "How are you?" s, followed by "Did you know that gargoyles have a function as drainage spouts?"

You probably should've stopped before things got to that point, but the world didn't end the day after so you didn't see any reason to. In fact, you only saw more reason to keep meeting up with Tsunotarou. As a fae, he had interesting views you were unused to hearing and seemed equally intrigued by yours as a human. He was also significantly much more intelligent than you, but instead of looking down on you, he eagerly taught you anything you didn't know. His knowledge was all book-smarts though, and when it came to something like social cues, he was suddenly the oblivious one.

Despite how objectively terrifying he should be as a tall figure draped in all black that seemed to manifest out of the shadows, you found yourself being endeared to him more and more with each night. You always ended up returning home with a big smile and a skip in your step. Even with your line of work restricting you to the grounds of the Rosehearts estate, Tsunotarou helped the world feel just a bit bigger with his unique mind and boundless knowledge.

But of course, as everybody knows; nothing lasts forever. You shouldn't have been foolish enough to think this would be an exception to that rule.

---

Tensions between humans and fae inevitably rose and with it your responsibilities in helping manage the Rosehearts estate. Things became busier and more hectic than ever, pulling you away from being able to enjoy leisure time and with it, nights with Tsunotarou.

That wasn't the only thing that slipped from you, though. At some point during all the chaos, wagons of rations caught fire— blue fire. In your overexerted state, you'd gotten too distracted to keep watch on Grim. Being beheaded by Riddle became the least of your worries when your menace of a monster cat was subdued and caged at the king's orders.

A part of you wanted to leave him to his fate. He got what was coming to him. But the softer and undeniably bigger part of you twinged painfully at the thought of standing back and doing nothing to try and save your friend.

Curse you and your bleeding heart.

So you'd requested to meet the King. Though the mere thought made you want to hurl, once you were before him you got on your knees and touched your forehead to the carpet that no doubt cost more than everything you've ever owned combined.

And then you took the blame.

There, on your hands and knees before the king, you spun an impassioned plea from the heart, strung together with all the fancy sophisticated jargon you could possibly dig out of your brain.

The King wasn't swayed.

But of course, he was swayed by something a king like him could never miss nor pass on: opportunity.

Even from afar as you entered the grand room you were able to notice it. Sickly pale skin, bloodshot eyes, sunken cheeks, and glowing green veins beneath the King's skin that were most definitely unnatural. All of it stemmed from a bandage wound around one of his arms, stained an unnerving black and glowing green.

You'd heard about it of course—Everyone had. It was the sole reason for the drastic increase in tension between human and fae relations after all;

A fae had cursed the King.

And just like how he wasn't willing to forgive Grim's transgressions so easily, the King was hellbent on hunting down that fae. And so came his demand—and at his words your heart had sunk with realisation.

"Kill the horned creature. Avenge me... and you and your pet shall be pardoned."

Your fae friend Tsunotarou had cursed the King. If you want to live, you're going to have to kill him.

---

The King's words rewound in your mind—Over and over and over, like a broken record. Your eyes look ahead of you, but you don't realise you've reached the old ruins until your feet come to a stop on their own. After your audience with the King, you had returned home to the Rosehearts estate and pondered your options. Though you hadn't enlightened them on your new dilemma, even Ace and Deuce had left you alone when you'd asked them to, so you really must have looked like you'd seen Death himself when you showed up at the estate again.

You had a choice to make—Tsunotarou's life, or yours and Grim's. After what felt like hours of holeing yourself up in your room and thinking restlessly, you finally gave in. The King's terms had begun to repeat in your mind then, as if to remind you of the betrayal you've been ordered to commit despite it having been branded into your brain alongside the faded smile of an old friend from the dark.

The shadows of the mansion's garden welcome you with its fingers of overgrown weeds and branches that form ominous reaching shadows in the moonlight. The familiarity brought a strange sort of comfort, but the King's voice in your head chased it away as soon as it came. The light of both the moon and your lantern help guide you to the worn pavilion of crumbling stone where you and Tsunotarou have spent countless nights talking about anything and everything.

The lack of green lights around the area is apparent as you swivel around to find them. You can't help feeling a bit disappointed even though the rational part of you knows that even Tsunotarou wouldn't come and wait for you after so many times of being stood up. You hope he isn't too mad at you.

You set your lantern down on the bench so that you can cup your hands around your mouth and call out.

The name you call him by is a nickname. He'd seemed amused by you not knowing his true identity in an unexpectedly endearing, childish way, so you'd indulged him. At this point though, it's hard to imagine him having any name other than "Tsunotarou", but still, using it now leaves the taste of bile in your mouth each time you force it out of your throat.

"Tsunotarou!" you yell hoarsely. " Tsuno —"

"You return."

You startle at the sudden deep timbre of Tsunotarou's voice. You swerve around and sure enough, your fae friend stands there, tall and proud and dressed in robes of night as always. His black hair shimmers like silk in the moonlight and his reptilian green eyes pierce you as he looks down at you impassively, face glowing an ominous green as the glitter of magic lingers in the air. Even in all his tall, sculpted, flawless fae glory, Tsunotarou wouldn't be complete without the long horns that curve proudly atop his head like an onyx crown.

"So. How is life with the humans?" His tone is as stony as his gaze, giving off the impression that he holds complete disinterest and was merely being polite. You can tell though that he's upset by the slight downturn of his lips that hint at the beginnings of a pout.

Fondness suddenly swells in your chest and an unwelcome smile tugs on the corners of your own lips. You resist it and refocus on the matter at hand.

"I came to warn you," you begin, straight to the point. "The king's after you, Tsunotarou, because of what you did to him. He won't stop until you're dead."

You watch his face closely for his reaction. It doesn't change much in response except for the slight raise of his eyebrows.

"I see." He sounds more thoughtful now. He's even looking at you instead of through you, and whatever goes through his head softens his gaze to something that you're more familiar with. "This was something I foresaw when I cursed him. Regardless, it was inevitable that that foul man would search for a reason to slay me like a common beast, and yet..."

His expression eases into something warm, changing completely from its stoic countenance into something you might call affectionate. Tsunotarou steps forward and reaches for your hand. You allow him to hold it and the tension in your body unwinds, unbidden, at his touch.

"...you still came to warn me of the potential threat." His smooth, thin fingers rub over yours carefully, as if he is feeling the exact construction of your fingers down to the flesh and bone. An amused chuckle, a sound not unlike the darkest of chocolates, escapes his smiling lips. "My dearest child of man... I assure you that I am in no danger. Do not despair. I will ensure your journey here wasn't for naught."

You blink up at him dumbly. His smile lifting further contributes to your confusion.

"I..." Stunned as you are, it takes you a bit longer to string words together. As you struggle, Tsunotarou gently guides you to sit down next to him on the bench as if the past few minutes didn't just happen. As if the past few weeks didn't just happen, when you'd stopped seeing him without a word despite being his friend. "...You're not mad at me?"

"Mad?" Despite the question, Tsunotarou doesn't sound surprised, the easy smile remaining on his face. "Whatever for?"

His expression stays unexpectedly at ease, but it occurs to you then that, for whatever reason, your friend has a tendency of (badly) hiding his hurt feelings behind a facade of contentment for politeness . You once again feel that immense guilt weighing in your chest.

"You don't have to act like you're not upset," you sigh, gaze looking downward shamefully. "It's alright. I want you to be upfront with me. I don't blame you if you're mad. I'm sorry I stopped talking to you and didn't tell you anything, I—"

You cut yourself off with a squeak when Tsunotarou's hand on your back suddenly pushes you towards him, giving you a faceful of his built chest.

"Hush now," he tuts, fingers threading through your hair while the other rubs your back as if he was soothing a fussy child. "As I have said, please do not despair. There is no reason to. I admit that I was... disappointed in your constant absences, but I understand that you have many responsibilities as I do, so I forgive you."

Tsunotarou's embrace is unyielding and borderline suffocating, but you smack his chest (to which he is completely unfazed by) and he lets you up to breathe and also look up at him in disbelief.

"You do...?"

You'd thought you'd be happy to hear those words from him, but instead dread further eats a cavity inside your chest to be filled with heavy, unwavering guilt.

Tsunotarou's smile is tooth-rotting, soft and sweet like cotton candy, completely oblivious to your inner turmoil as he ghosts the backs of his fingers over your cheek.

"But of course," Tsunotarou hums as he eases back on the bench. He pulls you along with him and this time you find yourself half-sprawled on top of him. "We are friends, are we not? And friends forgive each other."

His words are genuine. Innocent. The fondness in his eyes even more so. Nothing about the fae sitting beside you indicates he was a horned monster you were meant to kill.

You don't meet his eyes as you swallow and force yourself to relax against him, to which he makes a pleased sound and rests his head atop yours.

"Yeah. Friends."

---

The two of you remain sitting in the pavilion together in that position, your head tucked beneath his as he holds you and talks the night away like he always does. The days you spent apart fade into nonexistence, and things return to how they were before.

Or at least, it was easy to imagine they do.

Tsunotarou's dark robes are silky soft beneath your fingers. His hands' motions combined with how comfortable you feel against him and listening to him speak would be enough to lull you to sleep if your mind was calmer.

Tsunotarou clears his throat and you startle out of your thoughts.

"Ah, I apologize," he says with a slight rasp to his voice. "I appear to be losing my voice. Heh. I hadn't realized how much I've spoken."

He carefully runs his fingers through the tangles in your hair. When you look up at him, your gaze is caught by his hooded one. You feel yourself go pale. Not out of fear—You don't think you could ever be afraid of him, even if you've seen proof that he can easily decimate you—but a sick feeling that twists your gut at the unrestrained affection on his face.

"Time seems to fly by even faster when I'm with you," his voice is quieter, the softest puffs of breath from his lips fanning over your own.

You sit up. Tsunotarou leans after you as you pull away. Your fingers fumble with the satchel you'd brought before pulling out a waterskin.

"I brought some water. Here."

The contents of the waterskin slosh quietly as you present it to Tsunotarou. The fae blinks, his hooded eyes widening as if stunned by your offer.

"Ah." He recovers quickly, his smile creeping back onto his face. "Thank you. You're quite vigilant."

Your fingers are stiff as Tsunotarou accepts the waterskin. You smile, strained, as he uncorks it and takes a swig.

"Hm," you hear him hum, brows furrowing slightly. His eyes linger on the receptacle so briefly that you think you might have imagined it. His smile is the same as ever as he returns the waterskin to you.

You don't resist when he pulls you close again completely unprompted. He shifts slightly so he's able to comfortably lower his head onto your shoulder. One of his horns bumps the side of your head and his pale cheek squishes against yours.

Tsunotarou's touch is as careful as ever as he embraces you, his long sleeves draping over both of you like a blanket as he huddles in close. With a lump in your throat, you hover your arms awkwardly, unsure where to place them before reaching up and tentatively trailing a hand down the side of his face. His eyes droop closed. You can hear your racing heartbeat in your ears.

Your friend's weight grows heavier against you. He turns his head ever so slightly and his face is buried into your neck. You tense at the indentation of his fangs behind his lips resting right against your pulse.

You wait for something that doesn't come. Instead, Tsunotarou sighs, heavy and slow—content—and completely eases against you.

A beat passes. Another. Tsunotarou doesn't move.

"Tsu—Tsunotarou...?" you whisper shakily. You shove his shoulder. "Tsunotarou!"

He doesn't respond.

The cavity in your chest widens further. You feel hollow as you lift the fae off your shoulder and he's limp in your hold.

His head is a bit heavy, no doubt from his horns, but you manage to lift him up enough to respositon him so that he's instead lying on his side. You rest his head in your lap. An apology is caught in the tightness of your throat, instead spoken silently through fingers lightly brushing dark hair out of a peaceful, sleeping face.

Your fingers linger on Tsunotarou's face and you quickly pull away before you indulge yourself too much. Instead, you reach into your satchel again for the iron dagger you'd brought. It glints in the moonlight and you can't help but feel like it's taunting you.

If it could speak, you imagine that it'd be calling you a coward. It doesn't say anything though, and instead the only sounds that accompany you are your own rapid heartbeat, Tsunotarou's level breathing, and the squeaking of bats hiding in the night.

Another apology goes unspoken, instead coming out as a choked sob. Your fingers tremble around the hilt of the dagger as you raise it high with the blade pointing down. You resolutely do not look at Tsunotarou slumbering in your lap, blissfully unaware of your betrayal, but the effort proves to be useless.

Your hands shake. You scream. You bring the dagger down and it skids the side of the bench's seat as you fold over Tsunotarou in your lap, your shoulders shaking with unshed sobs.

Bats screech and take off into the night sky, but all you can hear is your own deep breaths as you try to calm your racing heart.

"I'm sorry," you whisper breathlessly into your friend's chest, who remains unaware of what his trust had led to— almost led to. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry—"

The dagger falls to the dirt with a thud, deceptively harmless. Tears finally flow from your eyes as you hold your friend and weep quietly. You're no doubt ruining his fine silk robes, but it's hard to care when you've come to terms with the fact that you'd just attempted to kill your friend to save your own skin.

What were you thinking? How could you have even considered killing Tsunotarou, who, despite very well having the ability to, (the King's ailment being clear evidence of this) never laid a hand on you or attempted to hurt you? How could you have been at the receiving end of his earnest smile and affectionate gaze and still almost gone through with the King's horrific demands?

You feel overwhelmingly ashamed of yourself. You cry harder into Tsunotarou's still sleeping body, uselessly rambling apologies between your sobs.

Your tears don't ease up, especially not when you realize that you're fully resigned to accepting the King's full punishment and that, as a price, this is the last night you'll have with Tsunotarou.

---

Come dawn, Malleus wakes up alone.

#twisted wonderland imagines #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland au #twst yuu #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia x yuu #malleus draconia x mc #malleyuu #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #matcha writes a bit

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stellawolfearts · 1 year ago

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The interesting thing about Mk being the "harbinger of chaos" is that.

its not a BAD thing. take a look at this.

now dont yell at me in the comments i dont know a shit ton about this stuff but im doing some reaserch.

next look at this.

The yin and yang represents order and chaos not good and evil. order is not inheritly good or bad and neither is chaos. one cannot exist without the other. they are bound togethor forever and if one side tries to overtake the other it spells diaster.

now heres another thing.

Order brings people and things together but too much means too much control. its an authoritarian regime. too much chaos beings well...chaos. its fun and brings life to things but too much is never good.

bring them together and you have a stable foundation with order and a life filled with excitement worth living through chaos.

Mk is the harbinger of chaos.

Lbd and azure represent control. Lbd wanted to get rid of unnecesary pain and suffering. she wanted to control everything so much that the world would be without chaos. and if everything is under too much control and order then, theres no real life its just a predetermined boring and lifeless thing (cough destiny cough)

Azure has taken over heaven, he wants to control heaven and while maybe there are some things to fix hes not goin about it the right way. too much control, hes manipulated mk and getting rid of anyone that stands in his way or has critisism for him.

Mk is the harbinger of chaos and thats a good thing because without balance between order and chaos the world is just. terrible.

anyways thats my ted talk for the day im going back into my haitus byyyyyeeeee.

#i have such a bad headache rn aaaaaaaaaaaa #i can barely look at the screen #but i really wanted to get this out b4 the specials are released #mk #qi xiaotian #monkie kid xiaotian #xiaotian #lmk xiaotian #monkey mk #monkie kid mk #monkie kid #lady bone demon #azure lion #lego monkie kid #lmk season 4 #monkie kid season 4

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artemis1214 · 4 months ago

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Stay | Alastor x OC one shot

Prompt: A "one shot" that takes place shortly after book 2 ('A Siren's Hunt)...

| Fluff | Minor Angst |

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The hotel is quiet tonight, with many of the patrons having gone to their respective rooms. Alastor sits by the fire in the parlor while reading a book and sipping on a glass of rye. Behind him, Esme sits at the piano that Charlie presented her with during the remodeling. Her small fingers dance along the ivory, creating a string of notes that blend perfectly with one another. As she relaxes, she begins to sing the notes softly under her breath, her voice soon carrying and filling up the space with a hypnotic call. The walls begin to glow a faint green and a blueish hue overtakes the floorboards. Alastor's ears perk up at her melody, smirking to himself as he feels them instantly falling back to his head from the effect, “Now, dear, you oughta be careful with your voice.” He says loud enough for her to hear him. Esme looks at him, seemingly lost in thought, when her eyes widen and she stops her voice from growing further, “Aha, sorry about that - force of habit.” She says, gently ending her last cord on the keys. “I just want this to be perfect for Her Highness…” She whispers.

Alastor chuckles and holds up his hand in the air, using his finger to motion her to come to him without turning to face her. Esme smiles and follows his order, standing and walking to him, sitting next to him by the fire. “Sooo, what did you do today while I was gone?” She asks, sliding closer to him. Alastor chuckles, looking at her momentarily and swiping his finger along her chin, “Not much, darling.” He smiles, “Just the usual, broadcasting and dealing with simpletons.” He turns back to his book, “But it is nice to have you back from your travels.”

Esme giggles, "You're too harsh on the sinners here, you know?" She smiles, nudging his shoulder softly. “And yes, the water was lovely. I was almost tempted to swim to a whole other ring.” She jokes. She spent this particular day down by the shore, swimming peacefully and exploring the reefs. There was so much chaos happening in the hotel nowadays, that sometimes she needed some time to disconnect and be in her element, not knowing that a certain black entity would follow her every time to ensure her safety.

Like she needed it…

He chuckled again, rolling his eyes, "Oh, come now, love. They're all a bunch of fools. Why should I be polite to them when they can't even appreciate the art of a simple conversation?" He leaned back against the couch, resting the back of his head on the cushion, placing his book down on his lap.

"Oh they can, you just don't like their topics of discussion."

"Well, can you blame me? I've spent decades surrounded by idiots. I think I've earned the right to dislike their inane ramblings."

"Mmm." She hums, "Oh!" She perks up, her fins sprouting from her head, "I almost forgot." She stands up from the couch, seeming extremely excited. She rushes over to the piano bench, digging in her jacket pocket. Alastor turns to watch her, his head and ears turning to the side in curiosity, “Forgot what?” She pulls her hand out with a small seashell in her hands, “This!” She cheers happily, trotting over and showing him the small treasure, “I found it during my swim today!” She beams, leaning over the back of the couch to show him, “Isn’t it pretty?”

“It’s quite lovely.” He smiles fondly, looking down at her hands. He picks up the small shell, running his fingers over the smooth surface, a pang of nostalgia hitting him briefly, “You know, my dear…” He says, “It’s quite the coincidence that you picked this up during your expedition.” Esme’s fins droop in response, “Hm, how come?” She questions, “I’m a siren, I find countless marvelous finds in the ocean.” She motions to her bag full of sea rocks.

He shakes his head with a small chuckle, “Well, my sweet little fish, I can’t help but notice that this shell looks oddly familiar..” He hands it back to her, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he returns to his book, clearly enjoying this little game. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense…talk!” She pouts, holding the shell close to her chest and walking around the couch to stand in front of him.

His smile widens at her behavior and he leans in closer, his eyes locking with hers, “This shell is a cat's eyes, a common find in the southern beaches I walked many years ago.” He pauses for a moment, studying how her face slowly turns from confusion to recognition, bringing a sense of endearment to his nonexistent heart.

Esme’s eyes light up as soon as she puts the pieces together, “Oh, yes, I remember. From the nature trail, not that far away from our home…” She taps the shell with her claws gently, hearing the soft click it makes, “I used to see these all the time by the docks, they would wash up constantly.” She looks into the small gem, her eyes trailing over the swirls of green and blue on the smooth top, almost as if she wants to dive into it and swim back home. She smiles sadly, her voice in a small whisper, “That was a long time ago…”

Alastor nods a hint of nostalgia in his voice, “Indeed, it was. It’s hard to believe it’s been so long since then…”

“Nearly 90 years…”

He reached over and took her hand in his, his thumb gently stroking the back of it, “But I still remember every detail as if it was yesterday…” She pauses, her eyes meeting his gaze with a light shine to them, “Me too…” She says softly, taking his hand and sitting down next to him to lay her head on his shoulder, “Don’t you wish we could go back?”

“More than anything, mon ange...”

He pauses for a moment, lost in the memories of their past lives together. He was quiet for a, lost in his thoughts as he questioned…

I still wonder what could have been if things hadn’t gone so terribly wrong…

Unaware of his mental torment, Esme takes in a long inhale and sighs, causing him to break out of his trance. His eyes move to her, noting the sadness in her eyes, bringing a strange sensation within him. He normally relished in seeing other’s misfortune, but the look on her face brought him great discomfort, “Darling?” He says softly, running his fingers through her hair, “What are you thinking about?”

“What was your favorite part?” She says, looking up at him, “Of all of it?”

His eyes widen at her question, narrowing as they look away in thought, “Ah, you know me, I’m a simple man.” He takes a moment, “I guess I’ll sound cliché in saying that it would be the first time I saw you.”

Esme scoffs, “At the market?” She laughs at his ridiculous answer, “Why, that was such a minor moment, no more than a hello and a goodbye.” She smirks.

“Oh, my dear, but it was so much more.” He says, looking at the wall and tapping his foot, “It was strange, I was just very…interested…in the way you walked, the way you conducted yourself. It was strange but I should have known that something was brewing.”

“You were watching me picking my cut of meat and had the gull to insinuate that I should hunt it myself.” She shakes her head with a smile, “I thought you were so strange.”

He laughs, remembering how his attempts to charm her in that moment failed spectacularly, “You were being difficult, you know. I must say, I was hoping you did hunt the meat yourself…”

“I’ll hunt you if you’re not careful!” She jokes, holding a finger to his face, causing him to roll his eyes with a scoff, “But really….that would be it? Not our first official meeting?”

“Oh that was pretty memorable too, but as I said, I’m a simple man. Although, having my first conversation with you was very interesting. Again, I didn’t know how to describe it, I just knew you were captivating.” Alastor’s smile widens as he looks down at her, inching closer playfully, “And you sang so beautifully~”

“You were so confident that evening, made me take notice of you.”

He leans back and throws his hand up in the air with an obnoxious ego boost, “Well, I’m always confident in how I present myself, so that’s no surprise~” He laughs, taking a moment before he looks back at her once again, raising her chin with his finger, “And how could I possibly consider passing up the chance to dance with the prettiest girl in New Orleans?”

She chuckles, “Considering the fact that I’m not originally from the south, I take it there were slim pickings before me…”

He groans sarcastically, shaking his head as he playfully rolls his eyes with his smile now resembling a fondness to it, “Oh, you are always such a smart aleck…” He teased, “No, there were plenty of beautiful women in Ne-”

“Watch it, Al…”

“BUT~” He cheerfully rings in a sing-songy voice, “None of them could have ever held a candle to you…” He leans in, bringing her closer to his face, “You, my darling, were in a league of your own.”

“Hmmmm~” Esme smirked, narrowing her eyes and quickly shrugging her shoulders, “You were alright, I guess~” I pushed him back, meeting his playful nature with her own.

Alastor scoffs in faux offense, dusting his jacket off with his gloved hands, “Just ‘alright’? Is that all I get after pouring my heart out to you?” He shakes his head with a closed smirk, “I’ll have you know, I’m much more than ‘alright’ Missy…”

She twists her face in a mischievous manner, as if she’s studying his face for the first time, “Ehhhhhh~” She mocks.

“Oh, you cheeky little minx.” He pinches her side lightly, just enough to cause her to jump, “Is that any way to talk to your husband?”

Esme giggles and swats at his hand, “Stop that!” Her eyes glow and she snaps her fangs at him in an attempt to get him to back off.

“Mmmm, no, I don’t think I will.” Alastor grins, swooping her small frame into the air effortlessly and pinching her once more. She laughs and swats at his chest before she relaxes and is now sitting on his lap, facing him. She hums and puts her hands on his shoulders, relaxing into his body. There’s a long drawn-out silence as the two stare at one another.

“Must you go?” He asks, breaking the silence with a question so intense it could’ve brought the whole hotel to its knees.

Esme’s face drops, “Alastor…we’ve discussed this..”

“I know, I know.” He says lowly, his shadow appearing beside the two, looking up from the floor with an anguished expression, “Just…she’s fine.” He continues, “She’s doing just terrific up there. She has our mothers, your sister, she’s been fine for years darl-” He stops, noticing her looking to the side with a pained look, “I..”

“I have to try…” She whispers,

“I’m not good at this sort of thing, you know that.” He says quickly, redirecting her face to his with his finger, “But if you choose this, I may never see you again. Ever.” He emphasizes the last word, hoping to get her to reason with him.

She sighs, tears forming in her eyes, “I know…but…She needs me, she deserves me…”

He disagrees with her, with all of his soul, but there’s no use talking to her about it nonstop.

“I won’t stop you from whatever choice you choose to make…” He strokes her hair, “I’ve always admired your independence…” He brings her closer to him, their faces now inches apart, “I won’t make you stay…” He says just below a whisper,

“But I sure hope you consider it…”

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🖤Words: 2040🖤

Psssssst this may or may not have been a sneak peak of my third book....👀

~ Artemis 💗🦌

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