#this fic literally took on a life of its own and i'm not sorry

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

A Night of Firsts

In which you, dear reader, are the object of a certain druid's desires and agree to meet him for a night of passion...it also happens to be your first time. NSFW

You’re so nervous as you walk through the woods.

What if he hates what he sees? What if I’m awful? What if—

You were snapped out of your thoughts by the sight of the man who had asked you to meet him---the tall druid with the kind heart. Leaning against a tree, you noticed the very large muscles in his arms seemed tense. Is he nervous? Surely not? He’s older than you’ll ever be, and surely…

“Forgive me.” He offered a rueful smile as he turned to face you. “I was afraid you wouldn’t show.”

You were taken aback by his words. Didn’t think I’d show up? For him? “I-I wouldn’t dream of it.” You tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, trying desperately not to appear just as nervous as he is. “Sorry to have kept you waiting, Halsin.”

He holds up his hand and smiles ruefully. “Oh! I didn’t mean to imply you’re late. Tis a beautiful night.” Chuckling, he looks apologetic. “Forgive me once more, my dear. It’s been some time since I’ve been with a lover.”

Before you have time to think, to consider what words you would say next, they tumble out of you. “Well, I’ve never even had one!”

Oh shit.

Oh fuck.

OH GODS!

Why did I say that?!

Halsin, thankfully unaware that you wish the earth so he loves would swallow you whole, stares at you with his mouth agape. “You…truly? It’s not that it’s a bad thing, mind you. I’m simply surprised. Surely there are those in the city who have…” He chuckles again, and you cannot help but notice how seemingly boyish he looks in that moment. “No. Maybe it’s your choice, and it’s—”

“Not by choice.” You say quietly, looking down at the ground. You remember all the times your affections were rejected---both gently and not---and your heart breaks a little. Sometimes it was as pleasant as it could be. Sometimes it was awful. Other times, though, you were told that no one would ever love a woman of your size. “No one chooses to fuck a fatty” was what the last one said to me. You did not realize you were crying until a rough, calloused thumb touched your cheek.

“My heart, let me dry your tears.” He gently wiped away the tears with one hand, while the other rested on your waist. “You are loved…and desired. Very much so.” As your eyes met his, you felt reassured by his warm smile. “I will be gentle of course. I want this to be—”

You cannot help yourself. “Just as nature intended?” You grin, your nose wrinkling just a little.

He barks a laugh. “I was going to say, ‘wonderful for you’ but sure, my heart, that works too.” His other hand fell to the other side of your waist, and he squeezed gently. “So beautiful. I am honored to be your first, dear one.” His large hands traveled up and down your sides, only the thin fabric of your nightshirt between his touch and your skin. “You’re so soft and inviting…” He stepped back and within a moment his clothes were off.

Oh.

OH.

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

You could not help but wet your lips upon seeing him.

He is so big. Everything about him is big. His heart. His kindness. His gentleness.

HIS HUGE COCK.

“Cat got your tongue, my heart?” Halsin teased, stepping back towards you, his massive hands on your shoulders.

“More like a bear, love.” You hesitate for a moment, trying to gather the courage to remove your own clothes. What if he—

He placed a gentle kiss on your head. “Take your time. We’ve no rush.”

Oh, you sweet, wonderful bear elf man. You hesitate for a second before speaking. “I-it’s not that. I’m just being silly…”

Enveloping you in his arms, he shook his head. “Whatever it is, it’s not silly or else you wouldn’t be so bothered, my heart. What troubles you?”

What’s been troubling me since I was a little girl. What troubles me every time I express interest in someone and get rejected. What troubles me when I feel the stares every time I eat. You close your eyes, screwing them shut. “I want this…want you more than anything…I-I’m sorry about how I look.”

“Why be sorry when you have nothing to be sorry for?” He buried his head in your hair, breathing in your scent. “You are the loveliest of nature’s creations.” His large hands roamed over your thin nightshirt. “And you feel…” Halsin moaned. “Incredible.”

With how close the two of you were, you could feel his enormous muscles and how hard he was. If he truly believes that I’m beautiful, then I should trust him. Believe him. Let him love me because gods do I want him. “So do you, Halsin.” You whisper, tentatively running your hands up his chest. Karlach said to be bold and brave in love, so I shall! Getting on the tips of your toes, you lean up to kiss him and wrap your arms around his neck.

As his lips meet yours, he grunts and lifts you off the ground slightly in a massive bear-like hug. OH MY GODS!!?!?! Though it ends as quickly as it began, you feel like your heart is going to beat out of your chest not out of nerves but because you never thought that would ever happen. “Gods,�� you breathe, your generous bosom rising and falling rapidly. “I—”

He smirked a little, still holding you. “I take it you liked that then?”

If anyone doesn’t like that, then they should have their head examined. You chuckle, step back, and begin to pull off your nightshirt. Halsin licks his lips in anticipation, watching your every move. While you still feel self-conscious, Halsin’s presence does calm you slightly. The cool night air sends a shiver up your spine, your nipples hardening due not only to the temperature but also your arousal.

Just as you are about to pull down your trousers, Halsin shakes his head. “Please, my heart. Allow me.” His voice is soft as he pushes your hands off the waistband. He hooks his very large fingers inside and ever so slowly pulls them and your smalls down. “Oak Father preserve me, such beauty!” You gasp as he gets on his knees, pulling your trousers and smalls past your big fat butt. He stops for a moment, his extremely large hands cupping your behind. “Nature made you so supple, so soft, my heart.” Spending a few moments rubbing your ass, he places several kisses along your lower belly.

Gods, I’m burning up. He hasn’t done anything yet, and I’m already a quivering mess. You glance down at him and notice his hazel eyes glowing gold. “Love?”

He continues his ministrations, small growls escaping him. “The bear grows more wild every second. All because of you.” Halsin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “But I will not go into wildshape tonight. Not for your first time. There will be other nights…other nights when,” he groaned, burying his face in the curls at the apex of your thighs. “I can put a ‘cub’ or two in you.”

You blink. You did not think it was possible for you to be even more turned on, but somehow the druid managed it. You manage to get a squeak out as you unconsciously rub your thick thighs together.

Halsin chuckles. “Does that excite you, my heart? Your scent tells me yes. Your movements tell me yes.” His hands gripped her thighs as he pressed kisses to them. “But do you say?”

Taking yet another page from Karlach, you lean down and tilt his face up, “Fuck yeah.” DEFINITELY INTERESTED IN THAT. “Should I, erm…my pants…?”

He nods quickly. “Forgive me, of course. Let me,” he pulls your trousers all the way down, admiring you. You step out of them (finally) and are completely bare to him. And he likes this. Likes me. I can’t even believe it, but it’s true. You cannot help but blush, your arms crossing your ample chest. “You truly are nature’s most beautiful creation, my heart.” He clears his throat, still looking at you at a goddess. “Let’s lie down.”

When he’s in wildshape, then I’ll get my ass cacked in dirt and mud. Tonight however, it’s a bed. You smirk as you snap your fingers, and within moments, a king-size bed, surrounded by candles and lanterns, appears in the forest. I’m a sorceress. This is child’s play.

Halsin begins to laugh and then pulls you into a hug. “Don’t fancy a romp on nature’s floor tonight, my love? Though I must say, this is quite romantic.” Kissing your head, he sighs happily. “Here’s hoping I can live up to it by giving you everything you deserve and more.”

You kiss his chest before sitting at the edge of the bed, slowly pushing yourself backwards up to a pile of fluffy pillows. “No matter what it will be, love.”

“That you have such confidence in me is reassuring.” He teases, grabbing his rock-hard cock and squeezing the tip slightly. “But before we begin, you need to know that all this,” he moaned as he ran his hand up and down his swollen length. “is because of you. You’re beautiful inside and out. So, so beautiful…” He murmurs and begins to crawl up to you. “When I look at you, I see a goddess of abundance---in kindness, heart, courage,” he pushes your thick thighs apart and stares hungrily at your throbbing cunt. He grips your thick, soft thighs, kneading them. “Softness…such sweet softness, my heart.” He looks at you expectantly.

You can only nod in return. You are seemingly unable to find your voice as he grins and then starts to utterly devour you. Without thinking, you begin to tug his hair. “Oh gods, I’m so—” You say quickly and loosening your grip.

“Pull if you wish, my heart. I don’t mind.” He chuckles, his hazel eyes full of mirth. He then returns to licking and sucking you, moaning loudly all the while. As for you, you cannot stop tugging on his long hair, the feel of his braids on your fingers somehow sexier than seeing them. Gods, Halsin… His hands squeeze your hips to prevent you from moving too much, and you not so secretly want him to hold your hips more often. It’s hot. Him touching me likes this makes me feel so sexy. So desirable. Never felt like this before.

“Hal-Halsin, fucking hells…” You manage to get out as one of your hands starts to knead one of your breasts. Want more. Want him all over me. In me. Any way I can have him.

He lifts his head slightly, the amused look still in his eyes. “That’s it. Good girl. Keep touching yourself. There’s a good girl.” As he dives back into your cunt, one of the hands on your hip travels to your lower belly.

The coil inside you seems to get tighter and tighter as his tongue laps at you, as he touches you, and as you touch yourself. And all too soon for you, the coil snaps and you thrust upwards into Halsin. You feel as if you black out for a moment or two, and when you come to, Halsin has the remnants of some of your spend on his lips.

“You taste sweeter than honey, dear one. I cannot wait to find out how you feel around me.” He leans over you, and you suddenly feel so small and I’m not small! Though no matter how imposing his size is, his expression is gentle. “I’m going to use a finger or two first, my heart. As you can see, I’m quite…large. I don’t want you to be in any pain. However,” he offered a toothy grin. “I think you’re wet enough for me.”

As one of his fingers enters you, you determine quite quickly that you are not prepared for even how large the finger is. You squirm and gasp, feeling so deliciously full from just one of his fingers. “Love, please…need more…”

“You’re sure you’re in any pain, my heart?” He asks, his nose nuzzling yours.

“No, just want more of you. Please.”

His lips gently kiss yours, a second finger now entering you. You moan wantonly as his inhumanly large and very sexy fingers stretch you. “Do you think you’re ready for me?”

FUCK YES! “Gods yes, please.” You beg, panting as he removes his fingers.

Within seconds, you can feel the blunt tip of his engorged member at your entrance. “I will go slow, my heart, and be gentle.” He seems like he’s more telling himself that than me. Oh Halsin, I trust you. Slowly, he moves inch by inch.

I believe Astarion would call this “exquisite torture.” It feels like he’s tearing me apart while I want more. More. More of him. Gods, please. You babble incoherently, ranging from praise to sweet nothings.

Loud grunts and honeyed words fall from Halsin’s lips as he finally is fully hilted inside you. You both moan at the same time, and you nod at him to continue.

He thrusts gently the first few times, but then he picks up the pace. His pelvis collides with yours, faster and faster.

“My love, come again for me. I know you can do it. I know you can.” He pants, his hazel eyes gazing into yours. “Be a good girl and come for me. Just one more time. You can do it.”

That is all you need as you scream your second release, and your vision turns white. You are vaguely aware of Halsin burying his head into your shoulder, his nails digging into your wide, soft hips. He comes yelling your name. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, his seed spilling in you. When he is finished, Halsin wraps his arms around you and rolls you both on your sides. One arm is snugly around your thick waist, while the other is caressing your cheek.

“Well, that was,” you smile softly. “amazing. Will it be like that every time, love?”

He chuckles. “If that is your desire, then yes. We still have so much to explore together, my heart. In fact,” his eyes turn golden as he grins. “should you desire it, more of myself would like to—”

Halsin does not finish the sentence.

You are already kissing him passionately.

It’s bear time.

And yes, I do desire it.

[ellecdc]

HI QUEEN 🎀🩷🎀🩷

I literally just atalkws all your marauders fics for like 2 solid hours. You're writing is healing me at this point.

I was wondering if your requests were open? And if they are can I please request a fic that happens directly after the first war (marauders era) and reader has ptsd and maybe got triggered by the smallest of domestic actions done by one of the boys and comfort ensues for the episode and aftermath guilt?

I'm sorry it's oddly specific, just fighting some demons rn and your awesome writing kinda does the trick heheh

please feel free to ignore this one! love u <33

thanks for your request, love. hope things have been easier on you as of late <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is struggling with PTSD [1.5k words]

CW: PTSD, post-war, mention of past character death/grief, panic attack, hurt/comfort

The war had taken its toll on all of you; ghosts of the people you lost and the people you all once were haunted you, reminding you of scars both visible and invisible that coloured every aspect of your life.

There were things that the four of you staunchly refused to talk about; Remus refused to speak about his time in the feral packs, Sirius refused to speak about his brother, James refused to speak about Peter’s betrayal, and you refused to speak about what happened when you went missing.

Perhaps there were healthier ways to manage the grief and pain, perhaps you would all benefit from reconsidering those lines each of you had drawn in the sand.

But you were all alive, you were all together, and you had your whole lives ahead of you, and for now, that was enough. 

It was enough until it wasn’t.

It was enough until Remus was sitting on the floor of your kitchen with you pulled into his chest as Sirius hovered in front of you, holding your hands against his chest as he begged you to breathe, to copy his breaths, to come back to him. 

To come back to him. 

You and James had been fussing in the kitchen making breakfast this morning; Remus being wholly uninterested in mornings but very much interested in the two of you had been sitting at the kitchen table in camaraderie as Sirius shuffled sleepily into the room. 

He took the time to admire Sirius’ sleep rumpled hair and the faint lines over his face and bare torso, clearly having rolled straight out of bed before going in search of his loves. 

You were reaching into a cupboard to retrieve Sirius’ favourite mug when he came up behind you and placed his hand at the nape of your neck at the exact moment that James burned himself at the stove; cursing loudly and dropping the pan which landed on the floor with a bang, closely followed by the sound of breaking glass. 

Remus was up from his seat in record time, aching joints be damned, and at James’ side.

“I’m sorry, I’m okay; sorry.” James gritted out, acquiescing to Remus’ probes and allowing him to examine his hand.

“Awe bubs, you got yourself good.” Remus cooed as he cast a quick aguamenti over the burn.  

“Shit, yeah.” He breathed out. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“What broke?” Remus asked then, looking down at the pan that had landed horribly close to James’ feet and searching for evidence of a broken bowl.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you not drop something?” Remus clarified.

James shook his head with furrowed brows. “Just the pan.”

Their bemusement turned to concern when they heard a choked “baby” coming from Sirius’ lips. 

Remus’ stomach dropped as he turned to see you half keeled over, leaning against the counter with one hand at your abdomen and the other over your mouth as if you were suppressing a scream. 

“Is she hurt!?” James asked quickly, moving swiftly along from his own pain.

“It…I- it was me. I-” Sirius started, sinking to the floor in time with you as your legs seemed wholly unable to hold you up in your current state. 

“She’s panicking.” Remus surmised aloud, quickly tiptoeing over what he realised were shards of Sirius’ mug that you’d been procuring moments before. 

“Dove? Hey, look at me.” Remus offered as he crouched in front of you.

You shook your head quickly and sucked in a stilted breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, my love, just look at me.”

You shook your head again and tried to back further into the lower cabinets as if hoping they would simply swallow you whole.

“I’ll clean it up. I’m sorry.”

“Sweetheart,” Sirius pleaded, “we’re not worried about the mess.”

“I’m okay.” You sobbed, sounding anything but.

“I know you are, dove. You’re okay, come now.” Remus said as he finally joined you on the floor, leaning back against the cabinets and pulling you into his lap so that you were fully enveloped in his embrace. “Big breath, babylove, can you do that for me?”

You made a high pitched keening sound and shook your head quickly. “I’m sorry.”

Remus looked over to notice that James had his burnt hand held protectively against his chest while his other kneaded into Sirius’ shoulder as he whispered into his ear.

“Look, dove, Jamie can fix the mug no problem, and Siri’s gonna help you take big breaths, okay?” Remus tired then, stirring both boys into action as James straightened and cast a quick reparo to Sirius’ mug and Sirius shuffled over on his knees to station himself between Remus’ spread legs and in front of you. 

“Can you copy me, baby? Like this?” Sirius begged. “Just like this.”

Sirius pried your hands away from your face and encouraged them to flatten out against his chest where Remus was sure you could feel the hammering of his heart as he took a dramatic breath for your benefit. 

You choked out a few more apologies that both boys gently admonished you for as you tried to copy Sirius’ breaths; they were nowhere near as deep or graceful, but Remus was thankful for your effort nonetheless. 

James reappeared then, his own hand now wrapped with medical tape and smelling strongly of Remus’ healing balms when he held something out for you.

“Angel, can you do me a favour?” He asked extraordinarily softly that it even had Remus feeling more at ease. “Can you hold these for me?”

Remus watched your face as you wretched your eyes open - another ‘deep breath’ stilted by a sob as you looked to him - to see him holding two large spheres of ice that Sirius had for his firewhiskey. 

Sirius kept his hands gently stationed on your arms as you removed them from his chest and accepted the ice from James, still never letting go even as the ice began to melt and drip freezing water down your wrists. 

When your sobs became the occasional hiccups and Remus felt you deflate further into his embrace, he braved a gentle caress of your upper arms in warning of his presence.

“Better?” He murmured lowly into your shoulder, earning him a deep sigh that came out only slightly shaky. 

“I…think so. I’m s-”

“No, no, dove.” He admonished quickly, peppering slow kisses along your shoulder and the column of your neck. “There’s nothing to apologise for.”

“I didn’t mean to cause a scene.” You murmured quietly, and Remus watched as Sirius’ face crumpled.

“You didn’t cause a scene, baby.” He argued quickly. “You were scared; I-”

James made a sympathetic sound in the back of his throat as he wrapped an arm around Sirius and pressed his lips to his long-haired boyfriend’s head.

“Should we not touch you like that, dove? Here?” Remus asked carefully then; dragging a barely-there finger across the nape of your neck and watching goosebumps appear.

“No, that’s fine, I- it wasn’t that I…it was just both and I…I didn’t sleep very well and it was just…”

“Too much?” Sirius offered as James relinquished you of what was left of your ice that had you and Remus damp, drawing circles into your wrists that he still had secured in his grasp.

“Just at once, I’m sorry.”

“Angel…” James chided.

“I am sorry.” You insisted as you looked at James imploringly. “I’ve not been doing a very good job handling my shit lately and now I’ve ruined the morning for everyone.”

“It’s not your shit, baby, and it’s not only yours to handle; we’re supposed to be helping you too, yeah?” Sirius pressed as he craned his neck to meet your eye that you were trying to avoid. 

“And you didn’t ruin anything; you could never ruin anything.” James added. 

You sniffled at that and took another deep breath that hardly shook at all as you leaned further into Remus. “Is your hand okay, Jamie?”

James smiled softly at you before bending down to press a kiss to your forehead. “It’ll be good as new, but I owe Moons some healing balm since I used a whole jar from his stash.”

“I’ll buy it!” Sirius announced quickly, surprising a small laugh from you.

“I’d think not, Pads; I’m the one who used it up!”

“Yes but you’re the one who was hurt, I’m the one who upset our girl.”

“I upset her too.” James countered as they began arguing who had played a bigger hand in this morning’s commotion. 

You and Remus shared a fond yet exasperated look before the two of you stood - on shaky legs after being folded up for so long - and opted to take a warm shower and change into dry clothes.

It may not have been the start to the day any of you would have liked, but you all made it out okay, you were all together, and you had your whole lives ahead of you. 

And for now, that was more than enough.

[hoseoksluna]

STEAM | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)

genre: smut

word count: 9.2k

summary: one video call awakens your neediness for two cocks.

playlist: steam / pinterest board: steam

warnings: female masturbation, mentions of shower sex, praise kink, toying with the idea of polyamory, a hint of voyeurism, oc rly goes through it and faces mental battles, fear, intoxication, punishment, dom/sub dynamics, fingering, choking, cum eating, manhandling, degradation, provocation, mutual masturbation, rough & raw sex, brief oral sex (f. receiving), pet names

note: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE SKFDSFLSFJ, okay so—let me introduce to you a new yoongi series featuring JUNGKOOK oh my god. i am SO EXCITED about this and i wanna apologize for my insane ideas in advance... i'm so sorry, guys. nevertheless, i hope you like this as much as i do, i literally went mad writing this and i smoked so many cigarettes i lost count. please, let me kNOW UR FAVORITE PARTS CUZ I HAVE SO MANY AND I WANNA TALK ABOUT THEM. oh fuck, guys. ENJOY READING SDKFJSD. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

side note: btw, the playlist i made is literally perfect and depicts the fic wonderfully. you can listen while you read! <3

The scent of mangoes finds its way up your nostrils, heating your senses through its balmy touch as you rub the body butter over the damp skin of your arms. Fingers graze along your décolletage, tucking in the fragrance for your boyfriend to breathe in when he comes home. He’s out for the night—said something about his friend finishing his military service, so the whole group was going out to celebrate it. Yoongi was so frantic in his excitement, hastily putting on the first outfit that sparked his eye. Didn’t even touch his hair, only sprayed a mist of his sandalwood and tangerine-tinged perfume. Grabbed his phone, keys, wallet. Barely kissed you goodbye before he fled out of the door.

He didn’t even ask you if you wanted to come along.

You didn’t mind, though—you’re only in the early stages of your relationship. It hasn’t even been half a year since you’ve started dating. And you figure he deserves a night out with his closest friends because you’ve been attached to the hip since the beginning. Funnily enough, you no longer live at your own place. Somehow, you’ve settled in Yoongi’s apartment, never setting foot outside, save for your walks, grocery shopping, the few dates with your friends and work. There wasn’t any conversation about it; you just mostly spend your free time with your boyfriend.

And all you do is fuck, eat and watch movies.

The last time Yoongi took you out was during the first two months you’d been getting to know him. The realization of how long it’s been sends a trail of chills down your arms and you rub it away.

But because you’ve been spending all your time together, you’re glad to have a moment to yourself—glad to be able to take a long hot shower, to do your hair and skincare. Perhaps, you’ll even have time to do your nails and that energizes you, propels you to spread the body butter further down the rest of your body. It is your rose garden, these night times reserved for your hot showers. The place you go to—your hideaway from the pressure and nerves of life that the steam loosens and soothes, especially when you let your sultry playlist echo through the mightiness of Yoongi’s bathroom, your favorite singer’s voice reaching your veins like the growing stems of those roses; pretty, pink and so feminine. Yes, Yoongi’s therapy sessions and thick length might have been a great help, the best in fact, but there’s something about letting yourself be burned off of all that’s been weighing you down and watching it trickle down the drain that is just so satisfying.

It was all that you were once used to. That is, until you met Yoongi.

Showers with him are something else.

Something you never thought you could ever have the blessing to encounter. Showers with Yoongi are intense, so out of pocket that you find yourself thinking about them fondly whenever you’re alone with your thoughts. There, beneath the downpour of the warm water, he lets you see the other side of his ever unyielding stern façade. While holding you, he would make you laugh, then make you moan and break that sound with each hard plunge of his cock. Hair slicked back, smirk adorning that delicious wet mouth, causing him to look like a Mafioso bent on absolutely ruining you. He would tell you the most insane story he heard from his friend, then talk you through the build-up of your orgasm while continuing to the point of that story—seamlessly waving through, never losing tempo. “Then, he went up to his hyung to ask him about what he did—yes, just like that, honey, take it. I know you’re almost there, just listen.” You would come all over his cock, sprinkling him with your essence, right there at the end of his story and like a hungry man, he’d get on his knees and eat you up, muttering how good you are and how well you did along with each swipe of his tongue. Your lungs would heave due to the overstimulation, your legs would tremble, unable to stand and he’d gather you into his arms, fold you like paper into the crooks of his body and let his thick duvet drape over you. He’d fall asleep first, breathing in the scent of your shampoo, snoring softly behind you while spooning you, never letting go of his deathly grip around you. And while you would breathe in the haze of lilac sprayed on his pillows, you’d become aware of the drowsy rhythm of his heartbeat, the lift and fall of his chest against your back, the snug heat of his body and it would lull you to sleep.

That has become your new version of hot long showers.

And if it isn’t this, then it’s Yoongi letting you quickly wash yourself before he’d steal you away, dragging you into this bed, only to carry you back there an hour later.

You speculate he has a serious, adorable case of attachment issues.

That is why you enjoy your exceptional alone shower all the more—you haven’t had it in so long. Only this time, it’s quite different.

You feel him everywhere.

You feel him in the drift of your hand down your tummy because you recollect the way he likes to pepper kisses there on his way to eat you out. You feel him when you round your palms across your backside because you know he particularly likes to leave traces of saliva when he presses open-mouthed kisses there. His love for you circulates in your bloodstream, mingling with the little love you have for yourself, making it bigger, turning it into a turbulent rush of liquid. You sense it tapping beneath your skin, asking for more of your body just like Yoongi does, always begging, begging for more—for more skin to kiss and lick, for more sensitive parts of you to find and nibble on.

Your hands sense the ghost of him even when your fingers slip past your mound and realize that the film of your memories dampened your cunt. You hear the words of praise he’d utter into your ear at the discovery and you sigh at your tender touch. 

That’s a good girl. Messy for me. 

The rotund case of your body butter remains opened, forgotten. You suddenly have better things to do—like give your body the self-care, the self-love it deserves.

It’s a part of the solo girl's night.

A mewl comes out of your mouth at the first round of circles on your clit. Furrowing your brows at the pleasure, you prop your free hand on the edge of the bathroom counter, riding the pads of your fingers. And then, just like Yoongi taught you, you take your digits away, edging yourself, taking them elsewhere. You cry out at the contact of your wet fingertips on your stiff nipple and you pinch the nub, a spasm of delight coursing through your sensitiveness.

You imagine Yoongi standing behind you. Not touching you, merely guiding you, telling you when to stop, when to pick up the pace—when to fill your hole. Watching you in the mirror, hands in his pockets, having a perfect view of your slick-caked folds, of your clit swollen and asking for his tongue. Determined to make you lose your mind by teasing you, letting you only slap your pussy once you’re close. Your essence drips out of you at that thought, making a mess on the floor and you plug it in with your finger, fucking yourself steadily, inflamed by how slippery your heat is, how easy it is to slip the digit inside. Hot flashes close over your body, pearls of perspiration kissing the crook of your neck. You fuck yourself faster and—

A sudden ring of your phone jolts you. And the picture of your boyfriend, half dressed, with the early morning sunlight leaking over the scars and tattoo on his shoulder, crammed inside your screen, greets you.

You pant hard, your finger still inside of you. Delirious.

He must be on his way home. You don’t even know what time it is. 

Leaning forward, you hide your breasts behind your forearm and you swipe your finger to accept his video call.

Blurry Yoongi. The night sky, starlit and alive, behind him. A shoal of silhouettes, some lanky and some buff, all short-haired and all as woozy-lidded as you. The picture smooths into a crystal clear view and there you see your boyfriend, the nocturnal breeze brushing his ebony hair back. Not just him, however, but another male craning his neck to regard you fully. 

His eyes flicking from your neck to the smallest of your exposed décolletage, a smirk blossoming on his face like your imaginary roses. 

Yoongi slaps his phone face down. You withdraw your finger from your heat, a cacophony of giggles, whiny cries and the exclamations of his name emitting out of your mouth. 

He is not, in fact, on his way home. 

It is a warning, his low and strict call of your name back and, heeding it, you take your phone into your hands, so he’s only able to see your deeply flushed face. Device back in his hand, he’s not looking at you at all. As a matter of fact, he’s shooting daggers fueled with deadly nightshade at his friend, grumbling something that you can’t quite make out amidst the chaos and bustle of the outing. The shoal of the rest of his friends and strangers disappear out of the perspective, as if threatened by the cold energy. 

You wish you knew what he’s saying to him. Even your pussy aches to hear it. The principle of him scolding his friend for looking at you at your most private moment scorches you and you’re red, flattered and majestically horny. 

Yoongi turns his head to see if you’re well-behaved and you beam at him, the pulse on your clit intensifying, forcing you to say, “come home, Yoongi.” 

He chuckles, aware of the reason behind your words, pretends he isn’t. “What were you doing, baby?” 

The growth of your grin doesn’t falter. You show him the sheen of your wet finger in the ivory bathroom light, the glint, the stickiness as you push your index finger to your middle and pull away, your arousal on full, filthy display. 

He curses under his breath. Doesn’t give a fuck that his friend sits beside him and adjusts in his seat. Bites his lip briefly. “Stick it in your mouth for me.” 

Doesn’t say the words that so very often follow after in that sentence. Taste yourself. 

Why he doesn’t step aside to take this video call eludes you, but something about you being watched by two pairs of eyes excites you. Enough for you to do as he says. Perhaps it’s due to the fact you don’t know the male sitting beside him and Yoongi is letting him keep his sight glued to the screen. 

Two sharp inhales of breath. Not one of yours. Yoongi readies his hook to feignedly lash out at his friend and you press your thighs together to alleviate yourself of the unbearable feeling between your legs. Confidence, a bad, bad version of confidence suffuses you whole, turning you into a person gone mad by lust. You swirl your tongue around your digit, the tanginess of your taste causing your eyes to narrow, the principle of driving not just one, but two men mad just the same intoxicates you, as if you were there among them, drinking. 

A pair of round eyes peek at the corner of the screen. Soft, naive, so terribly innocent. A dash of sobriety washes over you, owed to those brownish effervescent orbs, a sprinkle shame pooling low in your core. A reality check. You sense some kind of stability of that reality beneath those eyelashes of his, the stability that whispers—is this the right thing to do? 

It’s not rough, it’s not stern, it’s not Yoongi coded—it’s anything but. Gentleness is what you detect, free of any prejudice. 

You sigh. Millions of thoughts about how you could toy with them pass through your mind, but you decide against them, the stability a pillar that blends into your spine, helping it unbend. You can’t do this; you can’t do this to Yoongi and you need to keep your dignity intact in some way, despite the fact that every fiber of your body compels you to do the opposite. You distract yourself by screwing the lid of your body butter back on. 

“Good girl,” Yoongi coos, causing you to whisk your eyes to the screen in perhaps disbelief, shame or your still pending arousal—you’re not sure. How can you be a good girl when you let another man see something so lewd? How can your boyfriend validate something like that? “One more beer and I’ll be home. Wait for me on the bed. As you are.” 

Naked. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, to the surface of every part of your skin, dragging away small ounces of shame. You curse, mentally, running a hand down your face. Yoongi downs his drink without taking his gaze off of you, watching your reaction, adds once he swallows, “and don’t touch yourself.” 

And with that, he hangs up. 

The harsh comprehension of what the fuck just happened envelops you in a confining embrace, the precipitately increasing weight of shame now a burden on your shoulders that you just can’t shake off, even when you slink your arms through sleeves of your silky robe and welcome in the summer breeze coming to caress your face on the balcony—even when you burst your lighter to a flame and light up your cigarette, inhaling the smoke that you hoped would rid you of its such uncomfortable hold around you. 

You licked your cum clean under the gape of a guy you don’t know in front of your boyfriend. 

His friend heard the order. Don’t touch yourself. Yoongi didn’t whisper it. Didn’t camouflage his words in any way. Uttered them straight and bare, allowing his friend to hear them, despite the fact he almost fought him then and there for sneaking one glance at your moderately naked form. 

Question marks hover in your mind and the pulse on your clit cries, seemingly knowing the answer. 

Did Yoongi like it as much as you did, the aspect of having an audience? 

The wetness in your heat dribbles out, staining your thighs. You squeeze them together, the drag of your cigarette hard and long, expecting to feel your nerves burn off. You gain no such thing—no relief, no lifting of the burden, just constricting tangles in your tummy, zippy spasms of butterflies going mad, mad, mad. 

Perhaps Yoongi didn’t like it at first until he perceived the auspicious debauched look on your face. Saw the way you didn’t hesitate to oblige him when he told you to stick your finger in your mouth. And perhaps the fact that you didn’t express any signal of discomfort was the key to unfastening the leash on his possessiveness over you. 

What have you done? What have you so selfishly and disgustingly done? 

You hang your head in your hands, the white smoke intertwining with the burden on your shoulders and pressing down harder on you. 

That’s why he let his friend hear the command. Don’t touch yourself. He saw the way you indulged in it, and that awakened his liking for it.

Yoongi lied when he said he’d have one more beer. 

By the time you hear the thunder of his voice, all the roses in your garden have wilted, leaving faded, withered petals in its wake—leaving a path of your internal battle all around the apartment for Yoongi to follow. You’ve paced, your bare feet stepping on them. Tried to untangle yourself from the incarceration of your mind by chain-smoking, but to no avail. The only change that took place in your body was the decline of your shame, for you couldn’t help but imagine what could have happened, had you let free rein to your desire—had those round eyes never looked at you with such purity. You figured there wasn’t anything bad about letting your imagination be colored like that, and so you sat on your boyfriend’s couch, cigarette switched to a coconut-flavored vape, and dreamed.

You dreamed about those two men being of service to you, right here on the same couch, where they would lay you down and make you squirt over and over again, betting between each other who could make you come the fastest, counting down your orgasms until the number was a mere blur to you. 

The throb on your clit heightened to heavenly levels and when you emerged from your dream, you found yourself being able to breathe—your momentary disappearance tricking your shame into leaving. It was difficult for you not to touch yourself and you opted to adhere to Yoongi’s wish, not risking to feel worse than you already had. 

The war ended, undeterred by the fact you never expected it to. 

Loud swear words roar in Korean. You rise to your feet to open the front door for Yoongi and you discover that he’s not alone at all. 

The same pair of round eyes, the cause of all the ruckus you just departed from, meet yours, hauling you back there with a force. Your mouth falls agape and before you can react any further, Yoongi stumbles into you. You almost topple over, realizing you didn’t care to steal a glance at the state of him, but the male grabs a hold of Yoongi’s jacket and pulls him back. You wish you had tumbled over and the floor had opened up and swallowed you whole. It would have been less embarrassing than to be stuck in this situation. You want to run, you want to scream— 

“He’s drunk out of his own mind,” the male says, his voice deep like the warm wind before a tumultuous storm, fitting just right with the thunder of Yoongi’s intonation, his gaze wandering over the entirety of your shock-stricken face, taking it in; giving you the same attention that fucked you up hours ago. Yoongi begins to mumble something you can’t momentarily focus on, his hands grasping your waist, lips latching onto your neck. No, you cannot for the life of you focus because the man steals you all over again and you hate how easy it is for him to do that, when you’re far from being available. “Don’t ask what made him drink this much.”

Did Yoongi get drunk because he let his friend in on your most intimate moment? 

Humiliated, turned on and angry altogether, a concoction that simply worsens everything, you draw back from your boyfriend. You want to beat at his chest with your fists just to have some sort of relief from blaming him—because if you blame yourself, only doom consumes you. Why did he call you? Or, essentially, why didn’t he step away to take that damned video call? 

“Thanks for walking him home,” you say eventually, your voice smooth, despite the violence of your feelings, despite wanting to say something else entirely. Your first words to him and, wholeheartedly—despite it all, you hope they aren’t last, even if that possibly makes you a despicable person. 

Yoongi’s friend nods. Chews his bottom lip and lowers his gaze to the ground for a split second. You wonder if he feels the need to remove himself from this uncomfortable situation as much as you do because you can’t read anything in that paleness of his countenance. Not a hint of any emotion whatsoever, just blandness of expression, slightly dimmed by the few thick strands of black hair that have fallen from his disheveled, pushed back mullet. As if they did fight after all, perhaps on the way home, or wrestled if Yoongi was being difficult. 

You don’t realize you and the male are just staring at each other until Yoongi places his hand on your cheek, brushing back a wisp of your tresses. Only then do your eyes flick to Yoongi’s and you finally notice him, the gloss in his hooded irises searching and searching for you, the rosy blush on his cheeks, dry parted mouth and the dart of his tongue as he wets it, softening the flecks that have been created there. 

This is it. If you are focused on him, all things are made right—all things that have been stained get purified and dreams get turned into dust. This is the man you’ve fallen for, who puts you before himself and has done so every day since the moment he made you his. You can’t let anyone else get in the way of the home that your relationship has become, you can’t let your feelings flee—

“For the record,” Yoongi’s friend starts, hand massaging circles on the nape of his neck, the leather of his jacket tight around his arm. Your heart jumps and beats against your chest ferociously. “I didn’t see anything, if that helps you sleep better tonight.” 

It’s such a fat lie and you’re about to shake your head, but then he looks at you with such sincere regret that, ultimately, you choose to believe him. Just to keep your peace of mind unscarred. 

Yoongi tightens his hold around your waist, which grounds you, and a small part of you begins to bloom in healing, disseminating little by little across your whole body. 

A healer with big, round eyes. A good man. 

With a swing, Yoongi closes the door but you don’t hear the click. No, the light spills in from the hallway. Your hands reach for the doorknob but Yoongi blocks them and wraps them around his waist while swaying on his feet. He traces the shell of your ear with his lips, his alcohol-reeking breath wafting over you, and softly, you whine his name. Shuffling beyond the door, feet never entirely moving—the male is still standing outside and he hears as Yoongi hums at your call, as the sound grows into a groan at the feeling of being alone with you at last, at the feeling of all that makes you feminine under his hands. He hears your gasp as Yoongi pushes your chest flush to his body, kisses you harshly and cups your bare pussy. Hears the smack of your mouths, the pop once he withdraws, the squelch of your wetness. Hears as Yoongi murmurs, “you been horny, baby? Wet for me, hm?”

It’s those words that make him shut the door for you.

You made Yoongi drink a lot of water. 

And while he downed the glasses, you ordered him Thai food from his phone, which he now devours. You had wanted to change out of your flimsy robe into your plush pajamas, but Yoongi stopped you with a tight grip on your shoulder and with the nastiest puppy eyes he could manage, considering his plastered state, he begged you not to. Informed you that he wanted to fuck you in your little robe and you told him that if he wanted that, he needed to get sober. 

He’s your boyfriend and you trust him, but you don’t feel comfortable having sex with him while he’s wasted and you’re not. It’s a dangerous territory you don’t ever want to cross. 

So, now he eats as quietly as a mouse, feeding you every other bite with his chopsticks, meanwhile you’re jittering your leg with your arms crossed across your chest, mind full of the male who walked him home. Of the way he pulled you under and resurfaced with you soon after. Of the calm peace you feel all over the perimeter of your mind that peculiarly stresses you out. Of what would happen if you voiced your little dream to Yoongi, especially. 

Was it out of the question or would he consider it? 

Your leg jitters harder. 

You want to tell him, badly. Seeing his friend in real life changed fucking everything. If you hadn’t, you would’ve forgotten about it in the days to come. Yoongi would’ve fucked it out of you in most probability. But those eyes… those eyes got under your skin. 

“Stop fidgeting,” Yoongi scolds with his mouth full of food, no hint of slurring. The hot meal and hydration worked a miracle. “You’re making me nervous.” 

He picks up two cut pieces of chicken with his chopsticks and stuffs your mouth, adding a few pieces of vegetables as you’re chewing. Watches you swallow it, noticing how your eyes are focused on nothing in particular on the other side of the room. Tucking his utensils under his palm, he places his hand on your thigh, halting your restless motion. 

You still won’t look at him. Too lost in the overthinking maze, debating whether you should speak or remain quiet about your desire. A strong part of you fears his reaction and the other half is horrified at the possibility of being turned down—

Yoongi takes his hand away. Props it on his cheek. 

“I can see your pussy from here,” he says, licking his lips. “You’ve shaved?” 

You breathe a soft laugh, turning your head to face him, covering yourself with the small fabric. Dark, but tender eyes, void of any glossiness, awake and stirred—amused. Cheeks awash with color. Lips puffy, a dark tinge of red coating them. A sturdy fist on his cheek, the milky jawline underneath. That messy hair, the slicked-back look ruined by the constant rake of his fingers through them, now falling to the side from the middle. That slender body, clad in the night from head to toe—legs outstretched under the table. So fine, so delicious. A beautiful strong man—all yours. Why do you want another one? 

You slide your leg across his thighs and Yoongi slouches in his seat, discarding his chopsticks. 

“I shaved everything,” you respond, cocking your brow at him—a sly invitation for him to feel its smoothness. 

And he does. Runs his hand up and down your skin. Goes as far as lifting your other leg onto his lap, cradling them both, thumb caressing your calf. The movement causes your robe to expose you again and, cursing the fabric, you go to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you. 

“Don’t bother,” he mutters. “I wanna look at it.” 

You raise your brows altogether, looking up at him. “You wanna look at her?” 

Yoongi smirks. That dangerous tug of one corner of his mouth to the side. Your death, your undoing, the root of your submission to him. “I want to have her at my disposal.”

You gulp and Yoongi catches it, chuckling. Drifts his hand down your calf, to your heel, to the middle of your foot up to your toes. He plays with your pinky. You note the fact he changed the pronoun after you did. 

Your arousal returns at full speed.

“Did that make you wet?” Low, low is his voice—you feel it prodding at your core, thrumming vehemently. 

You blossom like your roses, thoughts put to the side. 

“I’ve been wet this entire time,” you say, zeroing in your gaze on the flick of dimness that whirls past his eyes. “For hours.” 

He makes a sound of pitiful nature. “Poor baby.” Furrows his brows and juts his bottom lip out, making you weak. Lets his hand roam on your thigh. “So you listened? You didn’t touch yourself?” 

You merely nod your head quickly. You were too distressed to give your body the pleasure it sought. Too busy flaring your lungs with the burn of smoke. And you respected his wish enough to keep your hands to yourself. 

Yoongi coos. “Good girl.” 

A flashback—your lips wrapping around your slick-coated finger, Yoongi praising you and… another pair of eyes watching. Chills spread across your arms, your stomach flipping. Thankfully, your shame is kept at bay. It relieves you. 

“Can I feel how wet you are?” 

A sweet, devious smile. “If you can manage to get to her.” 

You press your thighs tightly together. Yoongi looks at you as if you’ve greatly offended him and alas, he turns your chair so you face him head-on. Forces your thighs apart without any strain at all—and there you feel it, the embarrassment of fucking with him, once your pussy is at complete disposal to him just like he wanted. 

“If your pussy wasn’t so pretty, I’d make you regret your words,” he purrs, eyes fixed on your drenched flesh, hands pushing your thighs back until your knees are at level with your shoulders, folds parting with the movement, revealing more of you. Yoongi wets his mouth with his tongue. 

He thumbs your gleaming lips back and forth, collecting your essence, mesmerized by them. Looks at you intently. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to say sorry, though,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. “Would it?” 

You grin at him. “Sorry, Yoongi.” 

He rubs your swollen clit in slow circles, still with his bedewed thumb, still with his eyes on you. You choke out a moan at the delight permeating through your being. “That’s not the proper way to apologize, now is it?”

You lean your pelvis into his touch, a natural body reaction unfolding. He disapproves. You scrunch your face. “What should I say?” 

Yoongi tuts. “I’m barely touching you and you already forgot your manners?” 

The only answer you emit is an uncouth whine. 

He shakes his head, putting pressure into his circles for a mere beat of time before he slaps your pussy curtly. A vivid spasm of pleasure fills you and you moan. “Needy girl. Don’t I take care of this pussy enough? What’s this behavior?” 

Another whine. A roll of your body, asking for more of his touch. “Spank her again.” 

A cock of his brow. Harsh, stern, evil. His hand remains propped on his thigh, shoulders hunched. “I didn’t hear you say please. You wanna be bad? You want me to make you cry?” 

You know just how much he’s capable of doing that. You shake your head ‘no’. You want gentleness, the kind you saw in his friend’s eyes—

You flutter your own shut to get rid of that thought. Take a deep breath. 

“Spank my pussy again, please.” 

Yoongi massages the apex of your thigh, dangerously close to your cunt, squeezing the flesh every once in a while. 

“Apologize first.” 

“You didn’t tell me how.” 

He clicks his tongue and pinches your folds and your clit between his fingers. You cry out, and then Yoongi gets up to his feet, leaning over you, propping his hand on the back of your chair. He begins to swiftly spank your pussy over and over again. You just jump at every contact, moaning, eyes flicked to his, never breaking apart. Taking it, taking it so well that Yoongi kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Then, he grunts. Fingers flat against your clit, he moves them from side to side. Roses, a myriad of them, flood your form with their freshness and dewiness, with their beauty and delectation and you shudder, you scream, you arch your back off of the backrest—

“Say, ‘I’m sorry, Yoongi. I’m such a bad girl that I deserve every spank and I’ll take it until it hurts.” 

Flabbergasted and horny beyond measure, your mouth falls agape. Your brain turns into mush, the pleasure paralyzing you, your sounds now loud and obscene, the roses in you flitting, growing and murmuring. Yoongi adds more pressure to your clit and your eyes sink back into your head, his darkness wafting over to you, seeping into your skin—now completely yours. 

You repeat after him—word for word. With a simper on your face that causes him to scowl at you, as if you dared to toy with your punishment he bestowed upon you. But then, a tongue prods the inside of his cheek and he laughs, taking a hold of his dominant role and making sure you know. He spanks your clit twice in a row, hands lifting to fondle your nipples. 

“Good,” he praises. “You like that, don’t you? Spanks on your pussy?”

You don’t like that softness. Like the personified thunder he is, it is the calm before the storm. It unnerves you, the expectation of what might come next and your disliking of it. Nonetheless, you brim with the craving to have his fingers inside of you. Your hole clenches at that and Yoongi notices, hissing under his breath. The language of the darkness rises on your tongue and you figure that if you let loose, you’ll get your wish fulfilled.

“Yeah, it feels so good—” He pinches your nipples between his knuckles and you mewl, your lashes shaking at the impact, another set of wetness coating your folds. “Please, fuck me with your fi—”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence. Yoongi plunges his middle finger into your heat, cursing at your tightness, at how slippery you are and at the delight of being filled at last, you knit your brows. With his other finger, he traces the outline of your puckered mouth, his breathing hard and ragged. 

“I’ll do anything for that pout of yours, fuck, no matter if you deserve it or not,” he utters, slipping the digit inside. Instinctively, you suck on it and only then does Yoongi begin to pump you slowly. “You just need a little roughness to be good, don’t you?” 

Dumbly, you nod, swirling your tongue around him, but a faint, silenced part of you begs for the gentleness that you know hides somewhere deep inside his chest, never once unfurled during such intimate times. 

You pay it no matter, too fucked out to think. 

When he adds a second finger into your heat, he does the same thing with his other hand. Two fingers in your cunt, two fingers in your mouth. And he fucks you with both until you gag and a light flashes in his eyes—then, he withdraws all together, leaning against the table, his bedewed fingers coming to rest at his hardened length in his pants. 

Roses, opening. Roses, sighing. 

You breathe heavily, needing to finish, needing to have him in your mouth—

“You liked being the center of attention today?” he husks, surveying your whole body, bent in half. 

There it is—the storm. Just what you expected. Cold sweat dribbles down your spine. And it is fear, what you feel, even when you refuse to admit it. Stiff, tempered fear that pervades each and every vein on your body, regarding being possibly degraded, being made feel dirty—regarding, even, tasting the dark wine of his wrath. 

Such a stark, sudden change. 

You don’t want this. You don’t want any of it.

Abruptly, an internal question comes and pokes you in the middle of your forehead.

Will you succumb to it or will you, with the wildly fresh darkness within you, fight against it?

You take a deep breath, and in with the air also follows, with the little rationality you have amidst the sensuality of your lecherous appetite, the decision to take a hold of it all. To take charge. Just like he did.

You shall prioritize yourself. Your feelings, your desires—your roses.

Your choice envelops your fear in bubble wrap. It doesn’t dissipate. And as much as it pains you, you take a mental note of that. 

“I did,” you spit out, angered by the fact you’re afraid of your boyfriend, and so you stand your ground. “It made me so fucking needy and I want more.” 

The relief that hits you almost causes you to weep and you lower your legs to the ground. Not wanting him to see the film of tears clouding your eyes, you avoid his gaze. Yoongi crosses his arms across his chest and clicks his tongue at you, disapproving. 

“Keep your legs where they belong.” 

“No.”

A lift of his brow. He crouches down to your level and cradles your face in his hand, forcing you to look at him. And there he sees, under the waterfall of your hair, your emotions at his disposal. Yoongi studies you, frowns at you and you want to sob, you want to go home. Shame slithers towards your spine like a ghost, and although it keeps a distance, you feel its presence prickling your back. You cover your cleavage. 

“Why are you crying?” Yoongi asks, a silky murmur, eyes flicking between yours. His fingers don’t caress your skin; they merely hold you firmly, making dents in the skin. 

You don’t trust that voice, dismayed by what might lie under. 

“Why did you do that to me?” you ask in return, and it’s a blue fire shooting out, engulfing the room in stifling heat. You catch a glimpse of its sparks in the dimness of his eyes, of how he’s momentarily stricken by it before it folds beneath the shadows.

“You want to get fucked by someone else?” 

A question for a question. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, caused by your frustration. 

Your devotion to him didn’t let you go as far as to imagine being fucked by his friend while Yoongi watched, but the brief flash of it in your mind is enough incentive for the heat to spill into you, mingling with the darkness, turning you candescent, traveling through you until it finds your core—and there, it stays. There, it finds home. 

The pulse on your clit returns, filling you with abrupt energy. 

There’s something about him coming up with it that makes you unhinged, but you’re so utterly sick of the instability of your feelings. You need it to stop.

“And what if I do?” you retort. “What will you do?” 

Truthfulness, at last.

Yoongi takes in a sharp inhale of breath, and that is the only reaction you receive from him. Nothing else on his face flickers; no wrath, no sliver of jealousy, not one thing. You stare at an empty canvas, ready for you to paint on. And you simply decide that you want to start. 

You push his hand away from your face. Stand up to your feet. But the hardened look he gives you inclines you to sit back down. 

You fight against it. 

Untangling the knot on your robe, you let him see your bare femininity. The perkiness of your breasts, the long dip of your stomach that he likes to pepper kisses on. Yes, you’re aiming for his weakness. 

And you decide to repeat history. 

You reach your hand down, lower and lower while he stares you down, and you collect your glimmering essence. Sinking your finger into your mouth, you make a show of rolling your eyes back and moaning faintly, softly. Your other hand, in the meantime, unbuttons his pants. 

The breath Yoongi inhaled hitches in his throat. 

“Is this not evidence enough?” you purr, dragging down his zipper. “How else am I supposed to show you?” 

You pull his manhood out as you suck on your finger, all while maintaining eye contact. You don’t touch him beyond that. In fact, you withdraw your hand altogether. 

And then, you collect your essence again. 

This time, you smear it across his bottom lip. Yoongi lets you. Your heart thuds, threatening to jump out of your chest. 

“Your actions during the video call told me everything,” you whisper, catching the sliver of wooziness scattering along his narrowed eyes. “And I think you liked it more than me—the thought of sharing me. You can’t hide it. Not when I saw it.” 

Yoongi growls. Then, he surprises you. 

He parts his lips for you. 

And the contact of the pad of your finger with his wet tongue coaxes a string of your dewiness to drip down the side of your thigh. You moan for him. Relieved, fucked up, woozy just the same. Finally, finally, finally. 

You’re in charge. And it feels divine. 

His length twitches against the fabric of his T-shirt. Long, hard, drooling. Such a delight for you—and so you continue. 

“I also think it made you hard. Not just because you called me when I was touching myself, but because your friend was right there beside you,” you purr, your voice a seductive sound of silk—leading him to wrap his lips around your digit. You moan for him, showing him how much you like that. “Isn’t that right, baby?” Your walls clench at the pet name, solely due to the fact that these soft terms of endearment have always been addressed to you, never the other way around. It thrills you. “I’d always be devoted to you, even if he fucked me. I’d look at you the entire time. If that’s what you want. I had a different idea, but yours is just—” you pause, and again you make a show of sighing and rolling your eyes back, “better.” 

A straight hit to his core. A glee for you. 

But you don’t realize how much you fucked up until Yoongi grips your waist and the hold hurts enough that you wince. 

And then—then he manhandles you. 

Lifting you and laying you down on the table, Yoongi spreads your legs. Watches you drip, watches as the satiny fabric follows the movement of your limbs and reveals you in all your entirety. He pulls you closer to him with a sharp tug until you collide with the tops of his thighs. Bends over you. Hovers his lips above yours. You expect him to kiss you—he even angles his head and rubs the side of his nose against yours—but he never does. 

He only leaves you waiting. Leaves you submitted to your empty expectations, taking charge, taking his control back from you. You shiver in anticipation, reaching for him, however he pins your hands down on either side of you. An angel in a rose garden. 

Yoongi chuckles, darkly, his teeth glinting in the yellow light. You fight against his hold, hips rolling against the underside of his length, beckoning him to do something, anything. You merely manage to prolong the thunder of his laughter. 

“One cock isn’t enough for her, so baby wants two,” he spits. That smirk, the crinkles around his eyes—he’s enjoying this. The hint of degradation doesn’t reflect what’s swarming inside of him, doesn’t reflect the face of pleasure coursing down his body. You smile and he scoffs. “I have enough friends for you to choose from in case you want more. I think you’d be stellar at taking three cocks. Four, even, huh? Would you have enough then? One in your tight little virgin ass, two in your cunt, one down your throat?” 

You gulp, frozen, eyes widening. 

Yoongi bites his shiny lips, nudging the tip of his nose against yours. Kisses you once. Begins to rock his hips, his length sliding across your wet fleshiness. The moan that escapes your throat trembles with each delicious motion. 

“You watch too much porn, honey,” he coos, giving you tiny kisses on the mouth. “I’d kill anyone who would come near this pussy. And I’d kill Jungkook, too, if he so much as glanced at her.” 

So that’s his name. You mewl, knitting your brows. That’s his pretty name. The entirety of your form shivers at the discovery, at the pleasure given to your throbbing clit. 

Yoongi pulls back, setting your hands free. 

You prop your elbows on the table, pouting. Yoongi grasps his length, spreads his arousal and begins to jerk himself off. 

“You’re not fucking Jungkook. You’re mine.” He groans, squeezing his tip; your hole clenches. “Rub your clit.” 

Like him, you spread your arousal on your seashell, the arousal long caused by his presence and now the mention of his name—the reason behind your frustration and his, the reason why you’re spread on the dining table, why your boyfriend is hard. You rub your clit from side to side, amused. 

“No,” Yoongi disapproves, knowing you do the motion when you want to prolong the build-up. “Circles. Make yourself come.” 

You change direction, obeying him. A sly grin blossoms on your lips, dark eyes looking up into his, permeating them, permeating into his soul. You pick up the pace, moaning into your expression of elation. 

“Jungkook is such a pretty name,” you provoke and you heighten your sounds in volume and intensity just to piss him off, just to have your way. 

A grunt escapes him, matching your pace. He wraps his fingers around your throat and squeezes. You hum. 

“A pretty name to moan in my opinion.” A layer of sweat coats your body. Yoongi grasps your jawline firmly and your satisfied laughter inches you closer to your orgasm. You feel the hot flashes, roses surrounding you—its tender petals grazing your feverish skin. You give in, watching Yoongi do the same, his mouth in a tight line, hissing and sizzling, an open fire, an open fire you want to be radiated by, burned whole by. “Just imagine him here, watching us. Oh my god, imagine him knowing he’s the reason why you and I are doing this.” 

Yoongi has had enough. 

He pushes you down harshly. Fills your hole to the hilt without letting you adjust, observing himself disappearing inside of you and begins to pound you into the table. The sound of skin slapping, the hard and quick strokes, the ravaged grunts he lets out, the fast change—it all takes your breath away, so much that you can’t, in fact, breathe. He grabs your face and makes you look at him. The dead of the night captured in his features, you absorb it, whining like the brat you are onto his mouth, mingling into your noises your approval, your yes’. 

Swallowing it, he kisses you, keeping his eyes open. “He could never fuck you like this.” 

You laugh. He swallows that, too, moaning. “What if he could?” 

He taps you on the cheek, a warning, giving you an exceptionally hard stroke that causes you to scream. He pauses. Does it again. Over and over—and your screams echo across the room, your own soul slipping out of your body. Petals flutter against you and you’re done for, hanging off the edge. You’re close, so terribly close. Your eyesight blurs and Yoongi pulls out entirely and rams into you. Again and again, abusing your cervix. 

You moan his name, gone—entirely gone. 

“Yes, moan my name like that. Just mine,” he mutters. “Who’s fucking you this good? Who’s gonna make you come?” 

He rams into you more rapidly than before. Your senses leave you until all that you know is Yoongi. His name, his scent, the wholeness of the night encompassing him. 

“You, Yoongi, you. Fuck, I—”

Yoongi laughs maniacally. “Yes, that’s right. That’s my good girl.” 

He rolls his hips, slowing down the coming of your orgasm, owning you. Lets your senses come back to you momentarily. You swallow, your throat dry and you blink, dazed still. Yoongi kisses you, giving you all that he took from you. 

“Who’s only capable of fucking you like this, honey, hm?” he asks, his voice tender and sing-song. “My pretty honey, so fucked out. So out of it.” 

You whine and you don’t control what comes out of you, your body answering for you. “You, Yoongi. You’re fucking me so—so good. I can’t—fuck. You’re the only one.” 

He smiles down at you fondly, kissing your nose, then your lips, parting your mouth and swirling his tongue around yours briefly. Then he withdraws, begins to fuck you again, slowly, reaching to the side for something. 

Once you see his phone in his hand, your heart stops. And when he puts the device to his ear, your throat dries up even more. You suddenly become aware of the silence all around, especially in your chest. You can’t breathe, you can’t blink—

Yoongi jackhammers into you, purposefully luring your loud noises out of you. “My girlfriend wants to fuck you.” 

You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut, the suddenness, the quickness of pleasure you haven’t yet felt piercing you. Fuck hot flashes and petals, you feel a heavy urge of your orgasm closing down on you. 

“She’s so desperate for you, even when I’m fucking the life out of her.” 

You flutter your eyes open to see Yoongi surveying you. You scrunch your face—so close, so fucking close—and then he puts the phone to your ear. Breathing, hard, ragged breathing fills all of your senses and you come. 

It’s an explosion. Roses bursting, their dew soaking you and Yoongi whole and you exit. You exit out of this situation, this world, this universe while your soul remains here with them. Vibrancy, colors so beautiful and sensations so vivid, ardent and fierce. You don’t know what it is you’re feeling or where you are. That is, until Yoongi’s voice yanks you back to planet Earth, back into this world, this situation—back to them. 

“In fact, she just came for you. Squirted.” 

You sob. Overstimulated, rhapsodic, but effulgent. Yes, you emit light and glow. You can see it in Yoongi’s softened eyes. 

“Think about it. No pressure. Just know she won’t shut up about you. I recall her saying your name would be pretty to moan while she played with her pussy. I think it’s only right you fuck it out of her.” 

With that, he hangs up. 

You brim with so many emotions that it numbs you. Happy tears flow out of your tear ducts—and happily, endearingly, Yoongi chortles. You don’t even feel humiliation or shame. On the contrary, you’re ready to come again. 

Yoongi kisses you and the sounds he slips into your mouth divulge how happy he is about this, how pleased he is with himself. 

You pout, burning your eyesight into his. He begins to rut into you. 

“What, you’re not even gonna thank me?” he says, grinning, as if he wasn’t fucking you at all, as if you two were still sitting at the dinner table, conversing. 

You stammer, head empty, silencing yourself and trying again. “What—what made you change your mind?” 

Yoongi places open-mouthed, wet kisses along the bone of your jaw, and there he seals his answer. “I made up my mind the moment you admitted you wanted to be fucked by him, but you wouldn’t shut up about him. I wanted to hear you babble for me. About me. I just had to mess you up to get to that point.” 

You mewl, running your hands through his sweat-slicked hair. Like a cat, he perks up to your touch, lifting his head, angling it. He kisses you, deeply. Kisses your relief. 

“Where are your manners, hm?” he whispers onto your mouth, giving you hard strokes that erase your vocabulary. You want to make him come and so you push against his thrusts, but to no avail. The intensity won’t allow you. 

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you murmur, cradling his face, pecking him, giving him the softest eyes you could muster so you can show him how much it means to you. 

He approves of your effort on bettering your manners and to reward you, he lifts you up and fucks you in the air. Your breasts bounce against the material of his T-shirt, stimulating you and he alters between jackhammering into you and sliding you up and down on his length. Your pussy squelches around his girth, tightening and Yoongi—

Yoongi loses his mind. 

And it’s him who begins to babble when you snap your hips down on him in circles. 

“Just like that, honey, oh fuck. So good, so good for me.” 

He takes it until his sounds grow in volume and you focus so much on his pleasure that you forget about yours. 

But you don’t let him take charge. 

“Let me fuck you, please, Yoongi. I wanna make you come.” 

Just like you, he’s out of it and because of that, because you asked so nicely, he lets you. 

His chest heaves, staccatos of his choked out breaths sail through the room and you can see it on his face that he’s close. Brows furrowed, bottom lip bleeding due to the way he bites hard on it, the way his mouth pops open and his eyes flutter closed. 

You hold onto his neck with your dear life. 

“Look at me,” you demand and swirl your hips in slow circles around his tip. “I want you to look at me when you come.” 

You’re so stunned that he allows you to be in charge, even more when he truly does open his eyes and pierces his gaze into yours. 

“I need to pull out,” he breathes, but you shake your head, snapping your hips down on him harshly.

“No, I want your cum in me. And I want it to be inside of me when Jungkook fucks me.” 

Yoongi grunts and this is it for him. His cock twitches in you, over and over again and then you feel it—the hot, thick ropes of his cum stuffing you full. You’re so mesmerized by the feeling, by the blissfulness evident on his face, by the smoothness between his brows at last that you can’t even milk him dry. You’re frozen, stupefied by his beauty, by his personal rapture and you want to feel it in unity with him. You kiss him. 

It’s him who fucks him cum into you, burying it deep, moaning into your lip lock. 

It’s him who lays you down to your original position and briefly, feebly licks the sheen on your spread lips before devouring your clit. 

It’s him who gives you the fastest orgasm of your life. 

And it’s him who tells you—in the shower—the story of how he almost beat up Jungkook black and blue once he heard him say how pretty you are.

And it’s you who checks up on him. 

“You sure you’re okay with this?” 

You’re stroking his hair in the bed, the duvet heavy and warm around your body and his, the night overflowing into morning—Yoongi, too. 

He’s falling asleep, but still conscious, still here with you, purring. 

“I wouldn’t be waking him up in the middle of the night if I wasn’t,” he whispers, opening his eyes to look at you, to see you enveloped in the extra blanket of the dawn’s rosy light—glowing, throwing the sun off of its throne. “Poor guy just got out of the military and you’ve already rocked his world.” 

You smile, fondly, thumb caressing his temple. Yoongi hums in appreciation. 

“I’m happy for him he’s getting pussy—one that’s mine. Before he enlisted, he spent all his time painting and getting drunk alone,” he pauses in a thought, blinking at the light. “You still want this?” 

You nod, settling into his chest. Yoongi pulls you closer, tucking the duvet into the lines of your form, bringing in comfort and sleepiness. 

“I’ll make sure you have the time of your life. I’ll be here the whole time, taking care of you,” he promises against your hair and you squeeze him. 

“He hasn’t said yes, though. He could turn me down.” 

“I’ve seen the way he looked at you. You have nothing to fear. He’ll come to you like a puppy.” 

Yoongi sinks the promise onto the plane of your forehead and holds you as you drift to sleep. Happy, relieved, steamed off of all the negative things you went through. It evaporates into the dawn—far, far away from you. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / READ part two 

[biolumien]

Hi!! Your rooftop smoke fic with Hoshina was just superb. 😭💖

Was wondering If could request a scenario where they had been mutually pining for one another. And they'd, on more than one occasion catch each other's eyes across the room. And a handful of people from the Defense Force notices. Cause could they be more obvious?

Whether that would end up angsty or with a happy ending is up to you! I love the way you write for Hoshina. You capture him pretty perfectly haha

Stay safe and healthy!!

notes: omg... thank you for your compliments... it means smsm! uhh... well. this kinda took on a life of its own, i'm sorry. i hope you don't mind ;-;;

say it! come on, say it!

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader alternatively: romcom except then i smacked it so hard with angst at the end. sorry. word count: 2400

“you need to close your mouth when you’re staring.” you feel the ice-cold touch of a can press against your cheek, and you shriek as you stare up at–

“ah, fuck. i’m not staring, narumi,” you mutter, taking the soda can from him. narumi seemed less than convinced, his eyes barely visible from underneath his bangs. 

“o-kay. and you’re totally not ogling hoshina with googly eyes.” narumi cracks open his own soda, taking a long sip from the can. “why don’t you just date already? i’m gonna be honest, i’m sick of you looking at him like that. it’s boring, bland, predictable… fuckin’ hate that will they won’t they bullshit.” 

“i can’t,” you complain dramatically. 

hoshina, from the other side of the room, was talking to captain ashiro while examining some paperwork. occasionally, okonogi would come over, point out some new development, and there’d seem to be another heated debate between the three. you always liked seeing hoshina in his element—whether it be instructing other officers, training with his blades, or awkwardly not making eye contact with him when he spoke to you. 

“like hell you can’t!” narumi hissed, reaching out to put you in a headlock. “stop looking at him like that!” 

“like hell what? who’s looking at who?” 

hoshina had come over, staring at the two of you, right as narumi’s arm was beginning to wrap around your neck. narumi immediately flew back from you as you laughed nervously. 

“uhh, like hell i, umm…” you fumbled for an answer, staring up at hoshina nervously. why had he just come over? why was he looking at you like that? your lips quiver for a moment.

“oh, relax!” hoshina clapped you across the back, laughing. “you look so nervous! like you’ve just confessed you had some very, very personal feelings or something! that’s adorable…” 

let me die, you think furtively as hoshina’s hand brushes your shoulder. narumi’s face was pinched. 

“don’t let narumi bully you too much; he’s just a little lowlife, after all,” hoshina said with teasing venom in his voice. 

“you bitch,” narumi growled. “i have no idea how they see anything in y—” his face paled as the words left his lips, and you think you almost see god for a minute. you hide your face with your hands, waiting for hoshina’s verdict, and you swear that the next moment you get, you were going to make narumi very sorry for spilling your metaphorical, hell, call them literal at this point, guts out in the open. 

“hmm?” hoshina hums. the world fell silent—at least silent to you, in any case, your eardrums pounding in time with your heartbeat. “well—”

“vice captain hoshina!” mina ashiro’s voice was sharp and piercing. “time to go.” 

“huh?” hoshina cocks his head. “ah, of course, captain. be right there!” 

he turned to you and narumi with a small smile, one of his fangs peeking out for a moment before waving his fingers. 

“see you.” he nods his head to you specifically before he turns away. 

you wait until you are absolutely, absolutely sure he’s out of earshot before turning on narumi, throwing your soda can at his head. 

“fuck!” narumi swore. “what the fuck was that for?” 

“you idiot! why did you basically confess to him for me?!” you hiss. “i’m trying to count on you to not run your damn mouth!” 

“hoshina’s an idiot,” narumi says sullenly. “i bet he didn’t even notice.” 

[…]

the walk through the hallway was silent, up until—

“you’re red,” mina says, her hand reaching for her skirt pocket to pull out her phone. 

“stop,” hoshina’s voice is strangled, far more strangled than he’d like it to be. “no, i’m serious. no photos. you’ll need to talk to my PR agent about that.” hoshina’s ears were tinged pink, and he raised his hands to try and hide the flush. 

“hoshina,” okonogi sounded disapproving, “why don’t you just confess already? i’m getting tired watching you get so concerned over them…” 

“ha! confess,” hoshina laughs. “and what good would that do? i’m not exactly peak romance material, you know this…” 

“the only one not noticing that is you, hoshina,” mina mutters. “you get all sullen when they leave and happy when they come back, but you have to act like a… hmm… what does he act like, okonogi?” 

hoshina’s eyes went wide as okonogi hummed. 

“a cat!” okonogi declares emphatically. 

“yes. you’re right,” mina says decisively. “that’s a good fit. you act like a cat about it. you try to—”

“stop. stop it, stop it, i don’t want to hear it. stop analyzing my personality. this isn’t some kind of joke,” hoshina says, his voice sounding more flustered as he went on. “they’re never gonna say yes. it’s stupid. confessing like this… it would only be a burden on all of us.” 

mina and okonogi exchanged a look.

“besides, i’m a bad boyfriend. remember that last girl, from operations,” hoshina laughed. “broke her heart in three seconds flat.” 

“… if i remember correctly, you liked her quite a lot, though,” okonogi said hesitantly. 

“ha! so what if i did?” hoshina asked. “she only just left when i… hm.” his smile seemed to falter somewhat, but he laughed. “it’s fine. it’s fine. i’m fine.” 

behind his back, mina and okonogi exchanged another look. 

but his mind flickered back to his hand on your back, and wondered if you leaning into his touch was a fluke. 

[…]

you stare at hoshina from across the room. he’s eating by himself, half a piece of melon bread in his mouth as he stared down at some papers in his hand. you’d have asked to sit next to him, if only you were braver. but you were a coward, so here you were. you stare down at your own food, tearing off a corner of the red bean bun you were eating, popping it in your mouth. 

your crush on hoshina was about as subtle as a freight train. which is to say, you felt it coming on, and then by the time you’d fully reconciled it, you were already being run over repeatedly. it was just grappling, mostly, with how cool he was, endlessly. 

you wondered what it would be like to live under the intensity of his stare, as it enveloped you whole. 

would it be like a benevolent fire? or would he raze you so wholly that there’d be nothing left? 

you wanted to find out. you wanted to find out, but you were so scared he’d burn you before you could even get close. but what was important was that hoshina, for sure, didn’t even bother to reciprocate your feelings. that’s what you were so sure of—because why would someone like him give you the pleasure of his time? surely his time was more valuable than wasting it on a nobody like you. 

his intensity, sharpened to a fine point, was better spent figuring out how to permanently eradicate the kaiju threat altogether. 

right?

you sighed miserably. 

“now that sounds like a miserable sound to me,” hoshina’s voice rang out right next to your ear. 

you nearly jumped out of your skin as soon as you heard his voice, too focused for a second on the soft, tickling sensation of his breath against the shell of your ear. your face bloomed bright red, and you immediately backed away from him, your heart pounding loudly in your chest. 

“hoshina!” you stammer. “what—what are you doing?” 

“eating?” hoshina raises his eyebrow, a teasing smirk on his lips. “noticed you were staring. take a picture, by the way, if you want. they do last longer than the momentary glances.” he sat down next to you, continuing to eat.

so he had noticed you staring. 

“s-sorry. for staring,” you say. 

“huh? why are you sorry?” hoshina asks, cocking his head at you, one of his eyes opening a bit wider. “i don’t mind. if i minded, i woulda said something.” your face flushed a little more at his words, and you looked away as he laughed. 

“you really are cute,” he says fondly, reaching out a hand to pat your head.

… huh?

“what?” you ask weakly. 

“huh? did i say something weird?” hoshina asks, the picture perfect image of innocence—or so you’d say, if his eyes weren’t narrowed at you, and the smile on his face a little too much like a smirk, waiting for how you’d react. 

“no…? i guess? it’s just not something i thought you’d say. to me,” you say falteringly, looking away for a moment. 

“mm. i guess i should make a habit of saying it more, huh?” hoshina teases, removing his hand from your head. 

and as you fluster a little more, you curse god for your crush on soshiro hoshina. 

[…]

“you need to quit fucking around,” narumi says, pointing a dumbbell at hoshina in the training room. 

“fucking around? i’m doing nothing of the sort,” hoshina says, that mask of innocence still on his face. narumi’s brow furrows. 

“sure, and you don’t also ogle… you need to get your shit together and confess, or swear to god, i’ll kill one of you. or, hell, why don’t we just kill both of you so i don’t have to fucking look at you?” narumi scoffs, anger spiking in his voice. 

“ha, yeah, maybe if you do that i’ll finally be free from hearing your annoying, grating voice,” hoshina says, prodding narumi in the chest.

“yeah, but then you won’t confess your feelings and then i’ll have to die knowing i broke up a couple that hadn’t even gotten together,” narumi grumbles. “i’m not a monster.”

“huh?” hoshina asks.

narumi looked like he was about to blow a gasket.

“wait, so you didn’t know they reciprocate?”

“i–well, i… hoped?” hoshina says, realizing how stupid he must sound. his mind flit back to your reactions the past few days–hell, the past few weeks? maybe the past few months? “oh. shit.”

“oh. shit. indeed,” narumi mocks. “so, are you going to tell them?”

“i…” hoshina suddenly realized how terrified he was. his face paled, his hand coming up to his mouth. “i… shit. wait. this is–fuck. i…” he ran a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs up past his face, a shaking sigh passing his lips. “no. this is… how would i even begin to explain it? i’m not… i can’t. i’m not–i can’t be a good partner. not in this line of work. my judgement could be compromised! that wouldn’t–”

“your judgement is already compromised,” narumi says, a bared snarl-turned-smile on his lips. “you know, hoshina. this is probably the most interesting you’ve ever been. you’re always facades, niceties. pretended you were untouchable, swimming in that sea of self-loathing and ineptitude. but maybe you’re beginning to live a little, aren’t you?”

hoshina’s eyes widened.

living?

[...]

it’d always come to the worst, you thought. you coughed up a mouthful of blood as another round of rubble began to creak overhead. you tried to force your body to move, and your suit pulsed in response to your movements, attempting to close the bloody gashes across your body from the kaiju attack. 

“command, come in,” you gasped out, holding up a shaking hand to your in-ear. you winced as there was only a clicking static in response–was no one coming? were you all alone? were you going to die like this, your limbs barely even able to hold up their own weight even with most of your combat power unleashed? is this all you were good for? your knees buckled as you collapsed onto the ground, coughing out a mouthful of blood.

were you going to die like this?

you couldn’t.

you didn’t want to.

your vision swam a bit as you coughed out another mouthful of blood, your mind lingering.

hoshina had touched your back right before you’d left, a small smile crossing his face.

“don’t die,” he’d said. 

and here you were, stumbling through the rubble, hurting so badly that you might as well be dead. 

it was utterly and painfully cliche to think about letting hoshina down. you didn’t want to, and yet there was a horrifying possibility that you would. and as you buckled again, collapsing onto your knees, you coughed out another mouthful of blood.

fuck.

“command,” you repeated, in a weaker voice. “please. if someone–if anyone can hear me–i need help. suit damage is–” you cough again, wiping blood from your mouth. “--critical. please.” 

and as your vision swam, you felt a hand press against your shoulder.

“there you are.”

you blinked hard, staring up at the face of soshiro hoshina, who’d pulled his mask off, leaning down to pull you into his arms.

“hoshina,” you whisper. “i’m sorry–i shouldn’t have… i got…”

“why are you apologizing?” hoshina asks, his voice sounding more choked than you’d like it to be.

“i didn’t mean to–i didn’t mean for this to happen.” you think you’re bleeding across hoshina’s suit, across his gloves as you press your head against his shoulder. 

hoshina laughs desperately, wetly.

“you didn’t mean to–of course you didn’t mean to!” hoshina protests. “the attack was more than any of us could have predicted–of course you didn’t mean for any of this happen–i don’t want you to apologize for that.” his hand reaches up to swipe some blood away from your brow. “come on, love. i have to tell you how i feel–that bastard was right, after all. my judgement was compromised from the beginning, around you.” 

“that bastard? narumi?” you ask, coughing a bit. why did it feel so cold? your eyes fluttered for a moment,  “what does he have to do with any of this–”

“i love you,” hoshina says. “i’m sorry it took me this long to tell you. and i’m selfish, for waiting until you’re bloodied, like this, to tell you.” you didn’t like the desperate look in his eyes like he was convinced you were going to die. you leaned up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“you bastard,” you muttered. “couldn’t you have thought up a better time and place for all of this?” 

“no,” hoshina admits. “because i’m selfish, after all.” he smiles at you, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. “come on. let’s get you to the medbay. i’m not letting you die on me yet.”

“okay,” you whispered weakly. “okay.”

[huramuna]

stoatfaced, dragonhearted - oneshot.

dark, mean prince regent aemond x wife reader

for my 200 followers poll, i've actually had this one cooking for a while so i'm happy this option won! this is absolutely filthy, i'm sorry in advance.

word count: 2.4k

i don't do taglists any more unfortunately, its mostly because i never remember and then feel bad about it so i've made a second blog just for reblogging my fics! @huramuna-fics -- follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings!

content: slight dub-con, smut (specifics below cut), angst, mean aemond, toxic relationship, like in no way is this healthy, good god, smut with little plot, reader is described being from riverlands w/ auburn hair and brown eyes, no use of y/n, not beta read, i literally went into a haze writing this there are probably mistakes

tonight you belong to me - patience & prudence • vampire - olivia rodrigo

warnings: p in v, choking, breath play, dom/sub, degradation, creampie, cockwarming, orgasm denial, breeding, aemond is so mean here thats its own damn warning

Aemond knew what he wanted and the sacrifices that needed to be made to get such things. He wanted a dragon, it took an eye to get it. He wanted the Conqueror’s crown, it took his brother being burnt to get it. He wanted a legacy that would surpass his lifetime, etched into the very being of Westeros itself. The sacrifice needed for this would be to chain himself to a woman he likely wouldn’t be interested in.

That is where you came in. 

You were sweet, he supposed. Sweet in a way that made his teeth ache. Sweet in a way akin to a mouse and how it looked up at the cat just before his jaws snapped around the mouse’s head. 

He didn’t need to like you. Many marriages were forged in dislike or just plain indifference, set to a mutual goal. He supposed your mutual goal was children. All he needed was to use you as a vessel, a womb for his seed to take hold. 

You poor thing, you didn’t really understand that he didn’t truly care for you. You were nice enough looking, of course– hair that reminded him of autumn leaves, always styled in some intricate style with half a hundred braids, dozens of pins and decorative pearls. You reminded Aemond of a stoat, dark eyes against muted auburn fur, lips always pursed, sniffing the air in search for hounds on your tail. You certainly were a skittish, jittery little thing.

The marriage was a quick affair, done at the Sept two days after Aemond wore the Conqueror’s crown for the first time. You weren't a part of some major house, all of the major houses were too close, too greedy, their breaths hot against his neck as they shoved their wedable daughters at him. The last thing he wished for was to be indebted to some trivial lord who thought his name elevated him to the same stratosphere as Aemond– a paltry lady of some low house bred in the Riverlands would do just fine, he expected his Valyrian seed to dominate any of their week genes anyhow.

He had met you once before, many years ago before he lost his eye. When he was forced to tag along on some meager diplomacy meeting with his grandsire– he remembers it as being forced, but in reality, he wished to attend. What else was a second son with no dragon to do? – and you had been there, hiding behind your father’s trousers. You had been wearing a blue dress, he remembered this distinctly, as it stood out against the ruby red of the apple you had offered him. 

Aemond had tried to speak with you, but you only communicated in nods and soft noises– something you only partially grew out of. He never understood why he remembered this girl, as you were insignificant in the seas of faces he’s met over his life. Mayhaps it was your quiet nature that he remembered, something that, now at his age and state of mind, struck him as malleable, easy to mold into what he needed you to be. 

And so it shall be. 

–

It was about two and a half moons after your marriage, he returned from a late council meeting. Rubbing his eye, feeling the familiar thrum of pain right behind the socket, he was already in a particularly sour mood. The council meeting had gone south, ending in most of the lords bickering over one another like children. 

It irritated Aemond to no end, the strain of an oncoming headache ever looming. He still struggled with intense pain from his eye, or rather, his socket and severed nerves. The pain was debilitating at times and if anyone dared to test his patience when it was particularly bad, he would snap at them like a cornered animal, no matter who it was. 

Raising his head, he noticed the hearth was still going strong, multiple candles still lit in the solar, despite it being late at night. The now familiar crop of auburn hair was peeking from behind the couch— his wife was usually never up this late. 

“Why are you still awake, wife?” he asked as he took off his gloves, clenching and unclenching his fists. 

“… reading. I was waiting for you.” you murmured in your usual hushed tone, the sound of your book closing was louder than your voice. 

“I told you not to do that. It’s unnecessary.” he grunted in response, undoing the latches of his leather doublet. 

“I-I don’t mind it… I just sleep a bit easier…” you continued, no doubt twiddling the end of your braid between your fingers— an anxious habit.

“You need proper rest. I won’t have my wife looking like a sleepless, sloven mess,” Aemond chastised, discarding his shirt. “Now, what are you reading?” he was becoming increasingly irritated with you, feeling as if he had to force you to take care of yourself and unlatch you like a leech from him. When you looked upon him with your wide eyes filled with uncertainty and fear, he felt the overwhelming urge to wrap his fingers around your throat and squeeze until you passed out or mayhaps went limp, like a doll.

“Oh,” you slid the book towards him on the side table, it was a book on the history of Old Valyria and its language, usually used for children to begin speaking it. “Nyke j-jaelagon… naejot ēdrugon… va ao.” I wish to sleep next to you. 

Aemond’s brow furrowed. “What use do you have to learn High Valyrian, wife? Issa dōna ābrazȳrys mijegon nykeā notion isse zȳhon bartos, wanting naejot gūrēñagon mirros ziry daor.” My sweet wife without a thought in her head, wanting to learn something she cannot. 

You reached for the book, your comprehension not skilled enough yet to pull what Aemond was saying to you. Before you could grab it, he slammed his hand down on the book, effectively snatching it from your grasp. You pouted her bottom lip. “I want to learn… mayhaps it might bring us closer together.” 

Aemond scoffed, the sound sending a sting of pain right into the core of your chest. “We are as close as we need to be, little one. We are married in the eyes of Gods and men and we fulfill our marital duty by trying to produce heirs, hm?” He placed the book back on the shelf. “This nonsense of wanting to be closer is moot. I won’t hear of it anymore.” 

A glaze of sorrow flashed through your eyes before you got up from the couch, tightening the housecoat around your shoulders. 

“Come to bed,” he said, moreso as a command than a suggestion. “I know you are cold, ābrazȳrys.” Wife. 

You made a small noise of discernment, crawling into bed after him. 

He looped his arms around you, pressing you to his bare chest. He radiated heat like a furnace and was quick to warm you up– you were always so cold, he noted. He surely hoped that your children together would inherit his fiery blood and not the weak-willed, uninsulated Andal blood you possessed.

Aemond bounced from being indifferent to you, paying you no more mind than a maid or a whore, to needing you, every part of you. He didn’t see you as a person, moreso an extension of himself, latched onto his body until he consumed you entirely, your bones fusing together as one. To him, you were a doll or plaything to entertain him, testing the mettle of your will, to see if you were of poor craftsmanship and would break. He had always broken his toys as a child.

You could tell by the rhythm of his breathing, he wasn’t going to sleep just yet– you’d become very attuned to his moods, his small intakes of air against your neck causing your skin to prickle into goosebumps. His lips ghosted over your throat, one of his arms coming up to wrap near the base of your windpipe, not yet applying pressure, but the threat was there. 

No, it wasn’t so much as a threat than it was a promise– he quite liked applying pressure to your airways when you coupled, his lone violet eye centered intently on yours as they went from wide to half-lidded, soft whimpers of pleading to stop, sometimes for more, more. He relished in holding your very life in his hands and you let him. 

“Mayhaps I should get you a collar, wife,” he hummed, his voice husky and deep, reverberating deep within your chest as your heart pounded. “But I think you like my hands much better, don’t you?” 

“Y-yes,” you breathed, the small swallowing bob of your throat felt against the palm of his hand, causing him to grin. “... I fancy them– on my tender neck… between my legs…” you responded, feeling slightly bold at the notion you put forth. The heat of his body permeated your skin, warming your core into an ever familiar feeling.

Aemond all but growled at your comment, positioning the both of you to where you were laying with your back upon him, as if you were lazing upon him like a chair. “Feeling courageous tonight, are we? No matter, my dear, you will break all the same,” his mouth pressed to the shell of your ear, teeth nipping at your lobe. “Like every night before, and every night to come– your life is in my hands,” he enunciated this with a squeeze to your neck, eliciting a small mewl from you. “Is it not? Say it.”

“M-my life– belongs to you, husband,” you managed to squeak out.

“Not husband, not now. You know the rules.”

“M-my king, your grace,” you rephrased quickly.

He clicked his tongue in slight admonishment. “A bit slow on the take tonight, little one,” Aemond muttered, slotting his leg between yours and kicking your thighs apart. “Keep them open.” his voice was dripping with something between venom and sticky sweet honey. He felt akin to a God every time he was in the sky, every time he sat the throne with the crown on his head, and every time he rested his hand on your pretty little throat as he sheathed himself to the hilt inside of you so easily, so free of resistance. “So slick for me, just from the smallest of chokes– fucking whore.” he hissed, starting a slow, deliberate pace as his hips met against your bottom. The pair of you were like two threads, intertwined with his legs pretzeling around yours, keeping you spread open. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as he continued to bully that sensitive, spongy spot within you– but you craved so much more, feeling waves of heat emanate from your sensitive bud as it screamed at your brain, begging to be touched. You made the critical error, thinking your husband was too focused on his own pleasure to notice you going for your own, as your hand slowly descended between your legs, rubbing small circles upon your pearl.

How wrong you were.

His arm came up further, his bicep pressing to the bottom of your chin, his free palm slapping your hand away from yourself. “Are you truly fucking stupid tonight, wife?” he spat, stilling his thrusts. “When did I say you could touch yourself? Have I fucked you stupid already?” Aemond huffed in frustration. “My poor, dumb wife– you cannot do anything right, can you?” he slid you off of him, then flipped over to loom atop you, taking both of your hands within one of his, his large hand encapsulating your wrists with ease, trapping them above your head. 

You sniffed, tears welling at your lash line, threatening to spill– not just from his downright mean admonishments, but from your stolen gluttony, your pleasure stolen so close to the precipice. “‘M sorry, your grace,” you cried, “Forgive me.”

“You’re lucky you have such a sweet cunt,” Aemond mused, his immodest and downright sinful language going straight to your core as he nestled inside of you once more, menacing atop you like a darkening cloud. “I forgive you– and will even pleasure you. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To come?”

You nodded fervently, your lamenting tears spilling over and running down your cheeks.

“I’m feeling quite generous, then– I’ll let you. If you beg me.”

“P-please–” you blubbered, “Please let me come, my king.”

A sickly smirk came over his face once more as he pushed forward again, not bothering with the slow and meticulous pace he had before. His hips slammed into yours as he surged into you, as if you were nothing more than a cocksleeve for his pleasure. And yet, and yet– his hand didn’t move to the apex of your legs, chasing his own high before he would give into yours.

“Aemond, please, please– please touch me, f-fuck, your grace– my k-king, please!” you were all but wailing now, half in ecstasy and half in pure beseechment, pleading for just some semblance of the lecherous, stimulating and lewd sensation that only he could give you.

He took mercy on you, the pad of his thumb zeroing in on your leaking folds, giving your clit a cheeky pinch. It was a delightful pain– that was what being with Aemond was, what it came down to. Every waking moment with him was thrilling, sublime, agonizing, unending torture– and you fucking loved it. 

Your mouth hung open, you were sobbing freely now, your lips quirked into a euphoric and maddened smile. “Thank you, tha-nk you, t-thank you, I love you, I love you,” you gasped, your lungs ballooning with air as you begged him further, “P-please, around my neck–” 

Something animalistic came out of Aemond at your request, his hand draping around your throat like a necklace. “My sweet, dumb wife– you don’t know what to do unless I tell you, unless I let you, unless I guide you to your release, hm?” he prostrated each word with a deep thrust. The combination of his ministrations on your bundle of nerves, the head of his cock callously beating into your sweet spot, and the squeeze of his hand around your neck– it was enough. 

With a garbled string of words, prayers, denotes of love, pronouncements of his prowess, his titles, his name– the coil inside of you snapped, lighting every nerve you had in your body on fire. You saw stars as your climax wracked through you like a tempest, the absolute vice grip of your core sending Aemond into his own completion, his seed painting your walls and then some.

In your fucked-out delirium, you thought you might’ve heard him say something– you didn’t decipher it until later when you were half asleep, his softened member still lodged inside of you somehow as he curled you into his chest.

“My love, my wife– I love you.”

[anyasathenaeum]

Hello! I feel like I might have already requested this before your ask box was wiped, but how about a virgin!Knives x Reader smutfic?? I love how you characterized him as shy and flustered over the idea of sex in that one crackfic you wrote 😵 I hope you have a great day and life is treating you well!! You're one of my favorite writers regardless of what you write :D

A/N: Hey anon! Yes, I remember this request! I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to it, but here it is! This is my first (serious) attempt at smut with Knives, so uhhhhhhhhh please don't come for me, I tried my best. I've decided to start with some headcanons followed by the fic itself, apologies - it's long. Also, anon - thank you SO much for your comment, you're super sweet and I'm sorry I took so long to get to this. All the best! Warnings: MINORS DNI, Virgin!Knives, AFAB!reader (female terminology is used), hinting towards plants having "heats", a touch of yandere-ish behaviour (it's Knives, so not entirely surprising) penetrative sex, P in V sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it folks), reader is submissive in this one, rough sex, marking, a little bit of a breeding kink, Knives being a Loser™, he's kinda in love with you but the fucker definitely refuses to admit it, name-calling (Knives calls reader things like "slut" and such) Word Count: 3.3k

Virgin!Knives is definitely not nearly as confident and as ruthless as he is in all other points of his life - he might seem like he knows what he's doing, but deep down? Man is SHY, but he'd rather die than have anybody realize that

Seriously, you won't ever hear him talking about sex, and he doesn't even use the word if he can afford to outside of the bedroom

When it comes to his first time, he likes to make it seem like he's in charge and like he fucks all the time, but he's literally just a hair breadth away from cumming the moment you touch him for the first time.

Would absolutely make you ride him (mostly because he has no idea what he's doing), but he plays it off with cool indifference and because he "just wants you to please him".

He tries to make up for it, trying to be more forceful or rough with his thrusts, talking dirty to you and calling you names, but it's a double-edged sword because the moment you're crying out his name and squeezing around him, he sees stars and cums WAY too soon.

Basically, Virgin!Knives is a mess and wants to seem like he's still in charge in bed, but with a few thrusts of your own, driving him deeper and deeper into you, you'd have him falling apart beneath you in moments.

But, of course, because he's not human, his stamina is INSANE and the moment he cums for the first time inside you, it unhinges him (do I sense a breeding kink???) and suddenly he's chasing orgasm after orgasm using you, and you're definitely not gonna be leaving his bed for the next few days.

Full fic below! Enjoy!

"Are you sure this is what you want, Master Knives?"

The question slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself. You just couldn't believe what you were hearing.

Millions Knives, the independent plant who you'd been working for for years, had had you brought to his chambers in the middle of the night so that he could ask you something important.

"Are you questioning me, pet?"

The way Knives glared at you, his gaze cold and calculated, made shivers course down your spine, and you quickly bowed your head.

"No, Master Knives. Not at all. I was merely surprised by your request. I apologize."

Knives simply raised his eyebrow as he continued to gaze at you, taking in your form as you stood before him. You'd initially been just some filthy human he was forced to keep around due to your utility and your skills, but over time, as much as Knives refused to admit to it, you'd grown on him. You were one of the more intelligent of your species, it seemed, and one that seemed to know its place whenever you spoke to him. But, in the end, you were still just a lowly, miserable human, part of the plague that threatened Plants across the planet.

So... why?

Why did Knives feel this... pull towards you? Why did he have to fight the urge to be near you each and every time he spotted you, the urge to tuck you against him with his wing and whisk you away, out of sight and out of reach of all others? Why did he feel rage boiling up within him whenever you smiled or laughed at something somebody else had said? A fair share of other henchmen had lost lives and limbs just for speaking to you (not that you knew that, of course - they just conveniently "disappeared" during a mission).

Beyond just those moments, Knives had also noticed... other things. A warmth that seemed to bloom from whatever part of him had brushed your skin, spreading through the rest of his body until it became full blown heat. This heat was unbearable to resist and made him feel as though it were burning him alive from the inside out, unquenchable even when he took matters into his own hands time and time again.

Knives wasn't a fool. He knew of the lust and the need to reproduce that his kind often felt, but he'd never experienced it himself ever before. Not until you showed up. But, you were part of the very thing Knives had sworn to destroy, so why did his body call to you in this way? Why did his body betray him so? What was it about you that made him feel this way?

"You heard me, (Y/N)," Knives spoke slowly and quietly, his gaze not leaving you for a moment as he lounged on his bed, "I wish for you to stay the night."

"Yes, Master Knives."

"You will not speak of this to anybody," he continued, his voice scarily level, "Or I shall ensure you are permanently silenced."

You simply bowed your head again, your heart pounding frantically in your chest.

You had always had an interest in Knives - asides from being somebody who was hired to work from him, you found him a truly interesting being. An independent plant, more beautiful than any living creature you'd ever seen before, hellbent on exterminating the human race to save his sister plants and trying to find his twin brother, another independent plant. He was always transparent of his end goal, and despite it all, you had still agreed to work for him. After all, humanity was a mess and it wasn't going to get any better - you'd seen proof of that time and time again throughout your life.

So, here you were - working tirelessly so he could achieve his goal.

Although, you hadn't expected to be summoned to Knives's chambers so late in the night, and you certainly hadn't anticipated him to wish for you to stay the night. You'd been summoned to his chambers several times in the past, sometimes for work purposes, other times simply on a whim, and you weren't ignorant of the way you felt around Knives.

His presence made you feel simultaneously safe and on edge, as if something was always just about to occur. As though there were always words hanging in the air between you two, just waiting to be spoken but never truly acknowledged.

Despite his reputation of being unforgiving and ruthless, you'd never been on the receiving end of that side of him, somehow. He could be harsh and sharp with his words and his actions, but he'd never caused you any true harm. You couldn't ignore the way your skin felt as though electricity coursed through it whenever Knives accidentally brushed against you, or the way the heat rose to your cheeks whenever you found him watching you intently. He never looked away immediately whenever you caught him staring at you, simply maintaining his gaze and ensuring to keep eye contact with you for a couple moments before looking away almost lazily, as if he'd grown bored of you. But the fact that he did it so often... could it mean?...

You didn't dare let yourself hope. It couldn't possibly mean anything. After all, you were just a human. Unworthy of him in every possible way.

And yet, here you were, summoned to his chambers in the middle of the night and told you were to stay with him overnight. Your mind was in overdrive, trying to figure out what this meant.

"W-Where am I to sleep, Master Knives?" You inquired softly, not daring to look up at him.

Knives would've scoffed and laughed had it been any other person standing before him, but this was you. His pet, of sorts. And as much as he refused to accept it, you softened him. You weakened him.

"We'll address that later, pet. Come here."

Before you could process everything, you found yourself approaching Knives's bed, stopping right before it and waiting for his commands, not wanting to overstep.

"Did I not make myself clear? Here, pet," Knives all but hissed, making it clear he wanted you right on the bed next to him.

Blushing slightly, you quickly followed his demand, crawling into his bed so you were right by his side. You could feel his gaze on you, and you risked a glimpse at his face - his expression was surprisingly calm, almost curious as he studied you as you sat there next to him on his bed.

"Don't move," Knives whispered quietly, bringing his hand up to your face.

Immediately, you froze, almost afraid to breathe.

"So obedient," you heard Knives chuckle, clearly amused, "What a good pet I have."

Without further comments, you felt Knives's fingers beginning to trace over your skin, skimming lightly over your cheeks and making his way over the bridge of your nose, then down over your lips. His touch was surprisingly gentle, more gentle than you ever thought him capable, but you remained silent as he continued his barely-there touches.

You struggled to ignore the beating of your heart and the roaring of your blood in your ears, your whole body feeling like a livewire. You had to remind yourself not to let your mind wander and make your hidden desires obvious, but something in the way Knives was watching you made you believe that he already knew of your hidden desires. You felt your face heating up even worse than before as you looked away from Knives, suddenly finding the threading of the bedding very interesting.

"I don't understand you."

Knives's sudden voice startled you, making you jump slightly as you sat there next to him. However, you remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"Look at me, (Y/N)."

Slowly, you brought your gaze up to look at Knives, trying not to let your heart beat straight out of your chest as you did so. His icy blue gaze was steady as it trained on your face, still studying you even intently.

"What do you not understand about me?" You asked quietly, steeling yourself as you held Knives's gaze.

After a couple moments, Knives replied quietly, "I don't understand what it is about you that makes my body feel this way. How you, a mere human... are the only one who has the ability to set my soul and my body aflame. I get no rest because of you."

You felt your heart stop for a moment before it began to thunder violently in your chest, your eyes widening in surprise. There was no way that he meant what you thought he meant.

"Master Knives, I-"

"Nai."

You looked at him curiously, and Knives simply continued, "In here, I'm not Master Knives. My name is Nai. You use my name, here and only here."

"Yes, Nai," you replied softly, testing out his name on your tongue.

"I think you know why I've summoned you to stay the night, now. Don't you, (Y/N)?"

You nodded, making Nai smirk slightly, "Clever pet."

Without a second of hesitation, you felt Nai's hand cup the back of your neck, pulling you down against him and slotting his lips to yours in a passionate, lustful kiss.

You let out a small, muffled yelp as you fell forward onto him, your lips pressing against his and your eyes wide in surprise. His taste was surprisingly bright, and you found yourself melting into the kiss, eyes closing and matching his passion in the kiss within moments. You felt Nai's hands burying themselves into your hair as he pulled you on top of him, holding you close to him as he continued to kiss you lustfully, his desire for you overwhelming his typically-controlled self.

Despite the kiss being lustful and filled with desire, you found that Nai's kiss still felt as though he were holding something back. Was it simply due to him not being as invested as you believed him to be? Or was it for some other reason? Regardless, you found your hands coming up to cup Nai's face gently as you continued to kiss him, his hands resting firmly on your hips and holding you in place.

You could feel Nai's hands pressing your hips down hard against him, and underneath his robe and through your clothes, you could feel something hard rubbing against your core. A wanton moan escaped you as Nai continued to force you down onto him, getting you to grind on him as his hands guided your hips. You could feel your pussy beginning to soak through your panties, and your whole body shuddered as Nai pulled away from you, a string of spit connecting your lips together.

You watched as Nai's knives suddenly appeared from him, slowly approaching you. Your eyes widened in fear, and you tried to figure out what you'd done wrong, your whole body freezing and your blood turning to ice. However, the blades of the knives didn't touch your skin, instead the tentacles slowly working their way under your clothing, cutting piece by piece loose and letting the scraps of fabric fall from your body. The tentacles of knives glided across your skin almost tenderly, continuing their work diligently until you found yourself completely naked in Nai's bed, your clothing nothing more than strips of fabric now.

"Worry not, pet. You'll get new clothes," Nai spoke quietly, his eyes eagerly taking in your naked form.

Nai could feel himself getting riled up the moment he laid eyes on your bare skin, his cock hardening beneath his robe as he took in every part of you. You were beautiful, he supposed, for a human.

As he gazed at you, Nai couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like for him to finally take you, to stake him claim on you and to feel you around him for the first time. Of course, he'd never let you know that he'd never done any of this before, instead maintaining his façade of cool indifference and superiority, as if he'd done this so many times that it almost bored him.

Reaching out towards you, Nai pulled you back on top of him, his robe dissipating and allowing you to finally see him, his cock rock hard and throbbing, a glob of pre-cum leaking from the tip. You could see that the same plant markings that sprawled across the rest of his body were also on the shaft of his cock, as well as his tip. Just the sight of him, laid out before and below you like this and clearly wanting you, had your pussy dripping wet. You couldn't believe just how badly you wanted him inside you.

"Well? Go on, pet," Nai commanded, watching you carefully, "Please me."

"Yes, Nai."

You couldn't believe this was happening, but you found yourself feeling excited by the fact that you actually got the opportunity to sleep with Nai. As much as you wished that it could've been more than just sex, you were happy to have this, at the very least.

Slowly, you settled yourself in his lap, your hand wrapping gently around his cock and aligning him with your pussy, letting the tip just barely rest against your entrance. You were surprised to hear Nai hiss as soon as you took hold of him, feeling his body tense and feeling something warm and wet dribbling over your fingers.

"A-Are you okay?" You asked softly, looking at Nai with slight concern, hoping you hadn't hurt him or made him uncomfortable.

"Fine," Nai gritted out, "Don't question me. Remember your place, pet."

Then, suddenly, you felt Nai's hands tighten on your hips, grabbing onto you firmly before pushing you down onto his cock hard.

You let out a cry at the sudden stretch, your pussy stinging at the feeling of being split open so deeply for the first time in a long while, trying to adjust to the feeling of Nai inside you. With him sheathed inside you, you could feel just how big he was - even without moving, he was pressing against the most perfect spot inside you, pulling a whine from your lips.

"Quiet, slut," Nai growled, his hold on your hips bruising your skin as his fingers dug into your flesh.

What you didn't know was that Nai was struggling worse than you were at the moment - he'd never felt such warmth and tightness before, especially not around his cock, and he was trying so hard not to cum then and there. He hadn't expected you to feel so good around him, or for his body to be this sensitive.

However, as he held you against him, you let out a soft whine of pleasure and began to roll your hips desperately, pushing him just the slightest bit deeper into you. Nai's grip tightened on you, and he was about to growl out another command when his orgasm suddenly washed over him.

A choked "Fuck!" slipped from his lips as he involuntarily bucked his hips up into you, wanting nothing more than to bury himself into you even more than before as his seed coated your walls, painting them in white and claiming you as his in a way nobody ever really had before. You let out a moan and clutched onto Nai's shoulders as you felt the warmth spreading within your abdomen, and you couldn't help but continue to roll your hips as you chased your own release, wanting to feel more of Nai inside you.

"N-Nai, please," you whined, continuing to thrust your hips against him, "Want more... need more of you... please..."

Hearing you plead for him, for his cock, to give you pleasure made something in Nai snap.

In a flash, you found yourself laying back in the bed with Nai above you, his cock still buried inside you and still hard as ever. However, now, you could see a fire in his eyes as he gazed at you, his hand coming up and squeezing your breast. The mewl that came from you as Nai touched you made him feel more powerful than ever before, his instincts beginning to take over.

Leaning down and pressing his lips against yours hungrily, Nai began to thrust into you with urgency, his thrusts powerful and deep, pulling moan after moan from you as he continued to fuck you into his bed. He couldn't care less that this was his first time - nothing else mattered right now except for cumming inside you over and over again until you knew nothing but his name and that you belonged to him. He allowed his instincts to take over, the instinct to claim, to mate, to breed, to fill you up until it spilled from you endlessly.

"You're mine, slut. You hear me? Mine."

The growl that came from Nai made your whole body shiver, and the way he sunk his teeth into your neck and left a dark bruise to show that fact to the world made you scream out, partly from pain and partly from pleasure. You were his now, and nobody else would ever have you.

"Say it!" Nai commanded, thrusting into you harshly without stopping. "Say-" thrust "you-" thrust "are-" thrust "mine!".

"Y-Yours!" You cried out, feeling your own orgasm wash over you stronger than ever before as Nai continued to fuck you through it, "'M yours, Nai!"

"Mine!"

Nai slammed his cock into you one final time as he came yet again, filling you to the brim with cum once more. As he recovered from his orgasm, Nai continued to leave marks down your neck, your shoulders, your breasts, working his way down until he was ready to go again, wanting nothing more than to continue this until he could no longer stand it.

"Prepare yourself, (Y/N)," Nai growled into your ear, pulling your body against his hard, "You're to stay with me all night. And I'm nowhere near done."

[purple-obsidian]

Heyyyyy pookieeee-i saw your Jason todd fic and wanted to ask,what do you think he will be like teaching his gf how to drive?

(Because nobody in my freaking life taught me how to drive yet so I have to sit like a duck and wait for someone to pick me up when I wanna go somewhere pleaseeee let me drivee-)

be brave (jason todd x fem reader) wc 800

⭓ fluff isn't my normal cup of tea. but for you, pookie, i can make an exception ;) sorry this took a while to answer, hope you don't mind i made this specific to driving a motorcycle. that's just what felt right when i was meditating on this prompt so i went with it. enjoy.

"Jason, are you sure this is a good idea?"

"You second guessing me, princess?"

"Yeah, maybe I am. I could kill us!"

Jason scoffs and shakes his head in disbelief. "You think I would let that happen? Ever?" With cocky grin, Jason walks over and stares down at you, noting the apprehension on your face. "Remember the day we met? You told me you had a bucket list. Things you wanted to do before you died."

"Yeah, I only told you that because I thought I was going to die. You rescued me. I got plenty of time now, I don't have to learn how to drive tonight. Its already dark." You reach your hand up reflexively to rest against his chest as he gets closer. Its a habit of yours. You always find yourself drawn to the steady beating of his heart. Its grounding, and you need some of that right now.

"The road is well lit. We're miles from the outskirts of Gotham, no traffic out here. Just you and me, baby. Why not now?" His large hand rests over yours, pressing it more firmly against his chest. His heart is beating slow and steady, and his piercing green eyes are filled with admiration. "You and I both know that every day we have together is precious. Why wait to do the things you wanna do? Besides, I'd feel better knowing my girl can drive my bike if she needs to."

Jason knows you too well, calling you his girl like that makes you feel weak in the knees. Your own heart beats faster as you break your gaze away from your boyfriend smiling down at you, looking over at the motorcycle he brought you here on. For some reason, it looks more intimidating than it did a few minutes ago. You swallow the lump in your throat before looking back at him. "I'm nervous."

"I know." He states matter-of-factly. Of course he knows, he can read you like a book.

"I've literally never driven anything before. Like ever. I haven't even-"

"Shhh." Jason's hand leaves yours and cups your face gently. His other hand is on your waist, keeping you close. "You don't have to be good at it right away. I don't expect you to be. But you're smart. And you're perceptive. And I know after a little practice, you'll get more confident. I won't let us crash, baby, promise."

Jason really does know you too well. He can see the rebuttal forming on your lips before he finishes speaking. So he leans down to kiss it away before you can verbally express your doubts. The tinge of frustration you feel at being cut off isn't enough to keep you mind from turning to mush from the kiss. His lips are so warm, his breath tastes like spearmint, and his touch gives you butterflies.

But the kiss ends all too quickly. You know he cut it short it on purpose, not wanting your brain to turn off completely before you try and drive for the first time. "Sorry, babygirl, can't give you too much. How could you drive if you're all drunk from my kisses? Hm?"

He runs his fingers through your hair, taking in how cute you look when you're speechless. A moment later, Jason releases his hold on you and turns towards his bike, walking to it with a bit of pep in his step and smugness in his grin, leaving you stammering for a second as you try and string together a coherent thought.

"F-fuck you, Jason." You say after a moment. He always knows how to shut me up.

"I love you too." He grabs his helmet and puts it on before tossing you yours. It's an easy catch, but you're still giving him a dirty look.

"Why did we have to do driving first?" You grumble, accepting your defeat. "Pretty sure seeing the pyramids was also on my bucket list. Along with an abundance of other fun things, like riding in a helicopter, or swimming with dolphins. Or what about joining the mile high club? I'd think that one would be your first priority."

Jason is beaming, watching you put your helmet on and get ready to ride. Even as you scowl at him and mutter complaints, his heart melts at how easily you folded. All it took was a kiss. He always gets his way. He knows you can't say no to him. Jason Todd has you wrapped around his finger, and the vigilante couldn't be any happier about it. He looks you up and down to admire your body before replying, "Stick with me, princess, and I'll make all your dreams come true." He promises. "One at a time. I'll show you the pyramids. I'll fuck you in a plane. But first…"

He grabs you by your waist with both hands and effortlessly lifts you up off the ground to set you down on the seat of his bike. You yelp in surprise, quickly grabbing his hands to steady yourself. "First, you gotta be brave and learn how to ride your boyfriend's bike."

⭓ masterlist ⭓

[judeyswife]

not what i’m looking for. — jude bellingham x reader. II

genre : angst

word count : 928

note : hii lovies, this is official part two of the series not what im looking for !!! (part one) please let me know of what yall think in the comments! there will be a part 3 guys so don't worry, but it'll probs be a wrap up for this mini series since i want to get started on some other fics too + made a few format changes and writing from author's pov this time -- but thats it! enjoyyy! requests box always open !!

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"i'm sorry"

it's horrendous how fast people switch up. or i'd say men, in this case. it's been roughly about six months since that conversation had happened. it was honestly one of the worst days in your whole life. i mean, yeah you'll get through it. but why? every once in a while you think about what did she have that you didn't.

but this is a topic that hasn't been brought up in about a month. and a certain individual isn't mentioned anymore in your life thank the lord.

you have gone to a beach house near where you live with a few of your best friends, layla, jess, and liv. yall needed this vacation after months of torture. or studying.

they've been with you since day one. truthfully you'd say who needs a relationship when you have your homegirls?

"Y/N, come here right fucking now." -- layla screamed from our room in the house.

you could literally think she had been getting murdered with the way she was screaming honestly.

"oh my god what!"

"whats his name posted a fucking video of missing someone LOOK."

who? jude.

you sit next to her curiously taking her phone from her hands in order for you to take a look at the tiktok she was trying to show you.

( for the sake of the story, jude has tiktok xoxo )

you were shocked. who genuinely who would've though that he'd actually miss us? it didn't even sound right thinking about it.

"maybe it's about her layla" you shrugged getting up to grab your water bottle from her desk.

"are you stupid girl, he's obviously thinking about you, i mean look at his caption." - 'didn't think a situationship could hurt more than an actual relationship' don't be a fool y/n"

liv and jess had entered the room a few minutes ago listening to the conversation making liv enter the conversation.

"ain't no way he has the nerve to do that bullshit on social media"

you stood there listening to them diss jude for about 5 minutes straight. but your lost in your thoughts. i mean, why would he ever miss something he supposedly never had? it's genuinely so draining and confusing.

"guys just drop it, its whatever. lets just go hang out at the hot tub, i really fucking need it"

your friends just looked at one another not saying a single word. they knew better. not to make you sound like a maniac or anything, but they knew how you were with bottling up your feelings. jude was a sensitive topic for you. they didn't want to be the cause of ruining your vacation over some dumb tiktok captions. they simply agreed with you and started getting changed to go out the the hot tub.

•

it had been a few hours since you last seen your phone and you're now inside getting ready to have dinner with the girls and settling down. so you took these few moments, unlocked your phone and checked out what you had missed.

you furrowed your eyebrows trying to figure out who this number could possibly belong to. since you and layla are sharing a room for the trip, she was getting ready at her vanity and noticed your confused expression.

"y/n what's up?" -- asking you meanwhile putting a face mask on.

"i don't know, this random number just texted me with my name i'm just hella confused"

"that's weird. ask who it is obviously"

you nodded listening to what she had advised you to do.

you had this conversation silently without saying a word to layla about who this "mystery person" was. mainly because you wanted to fight your own battles. i mean you basically already had jess and liv involved. not that your mad at them or anything, you know they want what's best for you. clearly they're on team jude. those girls.

"who was it?" layla said getting up from her chair to grab her phone from the charger near her bed. "no one important, they got the wrong number and person" you honestly don't know how she believed you. you hate to admit but you were feeling jittery after having that conversation with jude after so long. even if it was barely a conversation.

you hated that you needed to lie to layla, but you truly believed it was honestly for the best. when you and jude were talking, they knew every single detail about the relationship you had with jude. and by they i mean your friends and his friends. always involved. one of the main issues why miscommunication was lacking horribly in your relationship. so that's why you want a new beginning. not just to "lie" to your friends but to feel the sense of control in your life. even if tomorrow was the last conversation you had with jude, you wanted to keep the moment to yourself.

•

without saying a word to anyone, you and jude had been chatting it up all night. just a catch up with each other. you guys went from telling every detail of your day to each other, to not saying a single word for months to each other. it felt nice being able to slowly regain that comfort you once had when you guys would text or facetime all night long.

you were honestly praying for the best in tomorrow's conversation, you had no idea what it could lead up to.

but the overthinking was done on your pillow all night long, plus his texts of course.

[mooncalf87]

Do you have headcanons for Alastor and his mother?

YES I'm so sorry this took me so long to anwser

Also I cant think of a proper name for Alastors mama so we are just referring to her as "alastors mama" in this

Inspiration for a few of these come from the appleradio fic "Permission to Touch" on Ao3 by Nyou! Its an amazing fic, you all should go and read it :3

Alastor and his Mama hcs <3

Alastor got sick a lot as a child, and some of his best memorys were his mama taking care of him

She didn't pass away until after Alastor was killed

Alastor never moved out because he never saw a real reason to, and his mama was just fine with that.

She was a cook in life

There was almost CONSTANTLY music playing in their home

Alastors mama helped him start his radio broadcast in life! Without her he would've never been able to accomplish everything he did

Mimzy and Alastors mom got along great!! Mimzy was one of Alastors only friends so she hung around their house a lot

After Heaven and Hell start working together in peace, Alastor gets to see his mama again (who is an angel)

She is not proud of alastor for all the terrible things he has done, but he is still her baby, and she has all the love for him in the world.

Alastor brings his mama to Cannibal Town! No one trys to eat her because "any family of Al, is a friend of ours." Alastor introduces his mama to Rosie, who immediately hit it off and become friends. Alastors mama shares all the embarrassing Alastor storys to Rosie <3

Alastors mama LOVES everyone at the hotel. Especially Charlie! She reminds her of herself when she was young

They can't spend more then 24 hours in a realm that they weren't assigned to at death, but Alastor and his mama visit each other a lot

In heaven, Alastors mom has a close friend group that consists of Emily, Molly, and Sir Pentious! She's shocked when she finds out Molly and Pents relations to the hotel/hotel members

In heaven Alastors mama owns a restaurant <3

Alastors mama doesn't know many of the other overlords very well (other then rosie), but she likes Carmilla Carmine and her daughters a lot

Alastor doesn't come to heaven as much as his mama comes to hell to visit him, people up there are still not as welcoming as Hell can be

His mama loves Lucifer. So much. Thinks he's the sweetest little guy

Her form is a sheep! She's just about as tall as Alastor, maybe just a few inches shorter.

Alastors mama LOVES to draw! She is an amazing artist

(These next ones include appleradio, so if you arnt a fan of that ship, you've read all I've got to offer! :)

Alastor and Lucifer don't tell als mama about their relationship for a little while! She is originally apprehensive about Luci due to the fact that he is the literal DEVIL, but they tell her once she starts warming up to him

She is very excited about their relationship!! She can see how much they care for each other in their little actions (like covering another with a blanket if they're cold, little sweet stuff like that)

Once alastors mama realizes that Luci isn't this big scary guy like he's said to be in heaven, she warms right up to him. They love gossiping together

I take HC requests!!

[angel-eyes05]

What's In A Name

pairing: roronoa zoro x fem!reader

summary: as a master thief, you pride yourself on never getting caught. that is until you're caught by the straw hats as you try stealing from their ship. unable to turn you in to the authorities just yet, they'll have to make due with storing you on the going merry in the meantime. but, your time in confinement has allowed you to get particularly close to a certain swordsman. how close the two of you get is to be decided though.

warnings/info: nsfw mdni, oral sex (fem receiving), alcohol consumption, drunk/tipsy sex, face riding, my own sex headcanons for zoro are VERY clear here lmao ,takes place in between jaya and skypiea (please pretend theres more time at sea in between those arcs cause this will not work otherwise OK THANKS), this is for the pre-time skip zoro girlies (he's 19 pre-time skip dont come for me), no use of y/n, the first half of this is just cute shenanigans between reader and the straw hats. its a lot of character building stuff but i like it.

word count: 6.3k

notes: HI GUYS IM BACK IVE MADE MY RETURN I FOUND SOMETHING TO WRITE ABOUT!!!! and its the longest fic ive ever written too god damn what a comeback lmao. ok so i started watching one piece and im head over heels in love with this man...but i'm only up to water 7 rn so i only know how to properly write for pre-time skip zoro so thats how this is gonna go. i was looking for zoro/one piece fics to read but theyre literally all established relationship ones which aren't my cup of tea so im doing it myself lmao. also i didnt proofread i got too lazy sorry if some stuff doesnt make sense sorry sorry sorry but im a simple lazy tired girlie lmao enjoy!!

dividers by: @cafekitsune

You didn’t know any of their names.

You had been aboard the Going Merry for about three weeks now, and you still hadn’t learned anyone’s names. Granted, your reason for being there wasn’t to make friends anyway. That wasn’t particularly easy to do, being tied up in some storage closet and all. 

Being one of the few residents who actually lived on Jaya had allowed you to pick up a skill or two when it came to stealing. Pirates with big bounties and even bigger treasures left their ships unattended at the docks, leaving you with some perfect quick heists from time to time. Some steals were easier than others. As much as you believed in your talents, most of the time your ability to get out unscathed was based purely on the luck of the draw. It wasn’t an easy life, many recent nights leaving you with more injuries than berries and gold pieces, but it was all you knew having lived here for so long. 

After having taken a break from heists for a bit, you finally laid your eyes on a ship worth stealing from. A pirate ship with a goat out in front and seemingly orange trees next to the helm. Most of the ships at the dock had been there for a while, leaving the pirates on board used to your tricks already. Being low on cash was another factor. So, after a bit of planning, you made your way onto the ship.

Earlier, you had found that one of the windows to a cabin had been left open, so you decided to make your entrance through there. You gathered your things and dove into the crystal blue water by the dock. Once you made it to the back of the ship, you took your rope, with your own handmade grappling hook at the end, and swung it to hook on the window sill. Luckily for you, it stuck the landing on the first try. You smirked to yourself and used the hook as leverage to climb up onto the ship. Unfortunately, this seemed to be the ship’s bathroom. Not super ideal. You’d have to venture more out into the ship. But with this came the risk of getting caught. Given your dire circumstances though, it was a risk you were willing to take.

With an attempt to make as little creak as possible, you slightly opened the door into the rest of the interior. Coast was clear so far. Suddenly, a shake rattled throughout the interior. You tumbled onto the floor, pushing open a door due to your unbalance. What the fuck was that, you thought to yourself. It quickly became no matter though, when you noticed the door had opened up to a room with a treasure chest tucked away in the back. Jackpot. You slyly made your way into the room and shut the door behind you. 

The room was neatly kept, with bookshelves, a couch, two sleeping hammocks, and a desk with navigation tools on it. There was even a bar. Though temptation pursued at you, you had to stay on task. While making your way over to the chest, you heard different creaks vibrating across the walls of the ship. You prayed to yourself that it was just the wood’s reaction to the waves. As you had predicted, the chest was locked, so you searched your bag for anything that could key the lock. 

Time became of the essence quickly as the thuds and creaks on the ship grew louder and louder. Finally, the lock to the chest made a perfect click, as the chest unlocked. You lifted the roof of the chest to find a sight for sore eyes: jewels and gold galore. This was it, you were set. You were so in awe with the vision before you, that you had failed to notice the woman standing behind you. The image you saw in one of the emeralds was a tall figure, with jet-black hair just below her shoulders, and dazzling blue eyes. “Looking for something?” the woman questioned, almost sarcastically. You seemed to have forgotten rule number one of thieving. Remember to lock the door behind you.

Quick on your feet, you whip around to throw a punch in her face, but her reflexes seem to be quicker than yours by the way she catches your fist. You then attempt to kick out her legs. The image you see next shakes you to your core. A hand, seeming to appear out of thin air, attaches itself to your calf. The hand then slowly raises your fear-frozen body into the air, dangling you upside down like a party toy. You attempt to throw more hits at her, all seeming to be in vain though. You kick and scream, like a child throwing a tantrum, in an attempt to get out. The woman looks out into the hallway and signals over another one of her companions. Fuck, this is turning sour fast. Before you can make out any other features of the man, besides his cartoonishly long nose, he uses his slingshot to pelt a rock towards your forehead. Your vision goes black as the rest of the pirates rush into the room.

The rough fibers of the rope tying your wrists together were the first thing you felt as you woke up. This was quickly followed by the underlying nausea from the waves rocking the boat, reminding you why you preferred to stay on land. You attempted to stand up, but your dizziness and the rope tying you to the floor weren’t letting you get very far. Suddenly, the door to whatever room you were in swung open, and the group of 7 pirates living on board entered the room. You slinked yourself along the back wall, attempting to disappear into your skin. You weren’t sure what felt worse: The fear of what they were going to do to you, or the embarrassment that you had been doing this for so long and still got caught.

Nope, definitely the embarrassment.

The man, no boy was a better word to describe him, standing in the middle of them attempted to speak to you before a woman with short orange hair cut him off. “If you think we’re gonna let you get off easily just because we’re also pirates, you’d be sorely mistaken!” she spoke, fiery anger lacing her words. The tall woman from earlier put her hand on her shoulder, calming her down, and walked out towards you. You tried to scoot away as much as you could as she crouched down to your level. 

“Listen, we want this to be over as much as you do. We would love nothing more than to get you off our ship and drop you off at the nearest island. But unfortunately for us, that would mean having to find a group of marines to hand you over to, who we aren’t the best of friends with right now. And we can’t drop you back off at Jaya since we’re too far by this point. So, for now, we’ll just have to keep you tied down here if that works out with you.” You began to speak before the woman cut you off. “You don’t have much of a choice in the matter by the way.”

She stood back up and began to exit the room, the other pirates following her except for two. The boy with the straw hat and another man, with striking green hair and three swords lying in a holster on his belt. The boy looked somberly at you as if he was against this whole idea. But the green-haired one just stared at you. As uncomfortable as it made you feel, you couldn’t help staring back into his piercingly soft eyes. “Come on, let’s go,” the green-haired man said to the boy, finally breaking eye contact and turning his back to leave. The boy followed him shortly after. As he closed the door, you had nothing left to focus on except for the itchiness of the rope, the empty stuffiness surrounding the storage room, and your worsening seasickness.

The following weeks had the same routine. Each of the pirates on board took individual shifts watching you during the day when they were just out at sea. The strange reindeer creature would watch you when they were out on islands. The first shift was taken by the tall black-haired woman. She would come in at the break of dawn to make sure you didn’t find some way to escape at night. You two would sit in silence for a little more than two hours, asking and answering some questions before switching spots with the blonde one. His company was strange, with him hitting on you at random points in your conversations, but he always brought you breakfast in the morning. As much as he made you uncomfortable sometimes, you couldn’t deny that his cooking was the best you’d had in years. He’d even let you take a hit off his cigarettes if you ever asked, so his visits had its perks. 

The next shift was taken by the orange-haired one. The first thing she would always do when walking into the room was ask you how creepy the blonde one was. The answer varied on the day. Once she warmed up to you, she would bring you tangerines from the trees out on the deck. As the days passed, she eventually explained that the treasure you attempted to steal belonged to her, which you begrudgingly apologized for. On some level, you felt bad. These seemed to be small-time pirates, just trying to get by like you were. The more you learned about each of them, the worse you felt about your actions towards them. 

Around lunchtime, the long-nosed one would bring you your meal, cooked again by the blonde man. This member would go into detail about his next invention he was working on in his workshop. You admired his passion and energy towards his craft. His rants and rambles were normally interrupted by the reindeer creature coming in for his shift, causing intense, yet entertaining, arguments to break out between the two of them. The reindeer was the sweetest of all the crew members, always checking in on your health and helping you with your seasickness. He would talk about his home and his experiences there. You developed a pity for the creature. His presence was calming, and you felt as if you could let your guard down around him. That would change as soon as the straw hat boy would come bouncing into the room, scaring both you and the animal. You would soon come to learn the energetic boy was the captain of the ship, which shocked you. But you soon came to understand why. His crew had a massive respect for him, even if he was the root of half their problems.

Being on the ship, you got extremely close to all the pirates. Even the tall woman from before seemed to respect you in some way. You enjoyed all of their company. There was something strange about them though. One morning early in your stay on the ship, you could’ve sworn you’d heard the tall woman say something to the rest of the crew. 

“Whatever you do, don’t tell her your name. Your name is your biggest secret.”

You didn’t know any of their names. You had thought you heard some of them speak it to each other in passing conversations, but not enough to remember who was who. You had bonded with them, but if someone put a gun to your head and told you to name your prison guard pirates, you’d be dead in seconds.

Except for one.

Zoro seemed to be his name. He would come in for the last shift. His presence didn’t frighten you, but it slightly intimidated you. His habit of carrying his swords everywhere he went wasn’t helping. He was silent his entire shift, normally dosing off halfway through after spending around an hour sharpening his swords You didn’t even attempt to make conversation with him. You found out his name when the captain would yell for him to get back to his sleeping quarters. “Zoro! Your shift’s done, you can sleep for real now!” he shouted across the hall the first time it happened. Zoro almost bounced up from his sleep and gave you one look before bolting out of the room to catch up to the captain. You could hear the echoes of their bickering from down the hall as you giggled to yourself. At least he didn’t seem to always be that stern.

It seemed crazy to you. His name was the only one you knew, yet you knew the least about him. He had hardly said 5 sentences to you in the three weeks you had been on the boat. His stoicism was one of the things that drew you into him though. Something about his demeanor, how intensely he would sharpen his swords, how his worries seemed to melt away the minute he escaped into a slumber, and how alive he seemed when he was with his crew. It was enticing. You wanted to know more. You attempted asking him questions about himself, but the most you would get were one to two-word answers. The most you got from him was when your seasickness finally got to you, causing you to puke up the dinner the blonde one made for you. “Woah, are you okay?” he asked concernedly, shooting up from his seat. When your only response was a cough and more puke, he ran out of the room to go get the reindeer. One thing he failed to do was close the door behind him. 

You speculated your options. You had no idea where you were. You could be out in the middle of the ocean. Or you could be right about to dock at land. If you managed to scrape yourself about the ever-loosening rope and sneak out, you’d be free. You’d never have to worry about these pirates again. 

At this point though, did you want to?

You took too long to decide, the reindeer rushing into the room with his medical kit, the blonde one short behind him. As the reindeer gave you a dose of medicine and cleaned up your mess and the blonde one held your hand and consoled you, your attention stayed by the doorframe. Zoro leaned against the wood, watching the work from afar. What shocked you most of all was his face. For a man who seemed so disinterested in you and your existence, his brows were furrowed, his cheeks had a light pink stain on them, and a slight frown invaded his face. He was concerned. Maybe even a little nervous. But why? He’d never shown any sort of emotion towards you before other than sleepiness. Once the reindeer and the blonde one left, he continued with his shift. You noticed something though. He sat closer to you than he normally did. 

You couldn’t tell, but you were blushing the rest of his shift.

Once he left, you sat in silence, thoughts racing through your mind, until you finally fell asleep.

You noticed a change in his behavior in the next few days. When you would ask him a question, he would respond now. And with more than just a “yes” or “no” too. He had more energy around you and wouldn’t spend his whole shift asleep. He would even let out a chuckle now and then. You didn’t know what you had done differently to get him like this, but you liked him like this. He was sweeter than he let on. 

Something had changed in you too though. On the occasions, you would catch yourself looking over his appearance. The more you observed, the more you realized how handsome he was. His clear, warm skin, his hypnotic eyes, his striking hair. You caught his appearance giving you butterflies when he would walk into your storage room. Your heart skipping a beat when he would give you even the smallest smile. You would stare even more when he would nap during his shift. Noticing certain things. The way his breath would hitch sometimes. How he always slept with his mouth open and would wake himself up sometimes with his dry mouth coughs. How his chest rose and fell with his soft breaths. How fighting with a sword in his mouth probably made his tongue stronger than other men you’ve met. You felt weird about it sometimes. Almost like some freakish stalker. But you would feel better about yourself whenever you would catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye. 

As time went on, the crew began to give you some more freedom. The tall woman began leaving some of her archeology books in the storage room to keep you entertained. The orange-haired one would show you all her marked-up maps. The long-nosed one would even let you out of the rope to test his inventions from time to time. With the door locked of course. And then, the big display came. One day, during everyone’s shift, they told you their names. The blonde one was Sanji. The orange-haired one was Nami. The reindeer was Chopper. The long-nosed one was Usopp. Their captain was Luffy. And the tall woman, who initiated your imprisonment, was Robin. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to you. With each passing shift, you grew more excited for the next. To learn the next pirate’s name, and with that, their story. Until the last shift of the day came. And you realized.

You already knew his name.

“My name’s Zoro,” he said quietly. “I know,” you replied, bluntly. 

Something felt different about this shift. You didn’t feel the same excitement you normally felt when seeing him. Without your connection to him before, his being the only name you knew, something about him just didn’t excite you as much. Now he noticed your behavior change. “You okay?” he inquired. “Mhm,” you responded in monotony. The rest of his time there was spent in silence. 

You felt bad about what you were doing. This wasn’t his fault. Yet you were acting like this. It was almost as if the two of you swapped places. He was now the one trying to dig information out of you. And you gave him nothing more than blank faces and empty words. You wished you could figure out why you were acting like this, but you had no clue.

Today though, the crew was going to take an extra step towards including you. Throughout your time on the Going Merry, you had only left your little storage room prison a few times. To go to the bathroom and visit the kitchen on special occasions. But you hadn’t seen the sun in weeks. After proving to the crew you had changed, they planned a little surprise for you.

Robin woke you up earlier than usual. “Is everything ok?” you asked, still half asleep. Robin just smiled at you. “Come on, get up.” You looked at her confused, as she walked over to your restraints, untying you from the hook keeping the rope down. She took you by your restraints and walked you out to the room. The mix of drowsiness and confusion left you slightly panicked as you realized she was walking you out to the deck. She opened the door to a still-dark morning. 

The rest of the Straw Hats were sitting out on the deck, just conversing and eating an extra early breakfast, courtesy of Sanji. They all turned to you once you and Robin walked out. “What’s going on,” you asked, still very confused. “On Thursdays, we all like to get up early and sit out and watch the sunrise. And we were talking about it, and we felt like you should join us this time,” Nami smiled. She stood up and pranced over to you, mouth slightly agape and speechless, and took you over to sit in between her and Zoro. You turned to Zoro, overwhelmed with emotions. 

It had been so long since you felt a part of a community of people. You never exactly fit in with the ruthless bands of pirates coming and going on Jaya. Finally feeling connected to people, especially after you wronged them so horribly, brought you happiness you hadn’t felt in ages. 

A singular “I-” was all you could manage to get out, a tear trickling down your cheek. “Just enjoy it. They’ll be at each other’s throats again in a minute,” he joked, getting a soft laugh out of you. He smiled gently, brushing the tear off your cheek. His finger lingered there longer than expected. You blushed. The butterflies were back and you caught yourself staring again.

“What’s that supposed to mean!” Nami interrupted. “Well, it’s true!” Zoro retorted, leaning over you to yell at Nami. The two began arguing as you noticed the sun starting to peak out over the horizon. “Shut up you two, you’re gonna make her miss it!” Usopp and Luffy yelled. They stopped bickering once they also noticed the sky begin to turn orange. 

The pinks and oranges mixed together in a beautiful watercolor painting as the sun reflected its image on the ocean. The soft waves bobbed the ship up and down in a calming hypnotic motion, almost putting you back to sleep. The beauty of it all was so serene. Against popular opinion, you always preferred sunrises to sunsets. The representation of a new day beginning. It gave you hope in your most dire situations. 

You lifted your head back to see the colors slowly spreading to the rest of the sky. Everyone to your right was in the same headspace you were like they were in some sort of trance. They were all cuddling against each other, Robin holding Chopper in her lap, Luffy and Usopp mimicking each other’s smiles, and Nami resting her head on Sanji’s shoulder. They all seemed so close to each other. Like a little family. Connected. You turned to Zoro to see if he was doing the same as the others, but all you found was his eyes softly gazing into yours, and his hand slowly inching towards yours. The minute he snapped out of it, he sharply turned his head and hand away and cleared his throat. You couldn't help but laugh at his schoolboy behavior. With your ego controlling your actions, you took his hand and slowly intertwined his fingers with yours. You could see a smile float onto his face out of the corner of your eye. You did the same.

The rest of the day was spent out on the deck. The feeling of the sun on your skin for the first time in weeks was euphoric. All you wanted to do was soak it all in. The Straw Hats must have been in a good mood today, because, with some extra convincing, you got them to finally take off your shackles. You spent most of the day sunbathing out on the deck with Nami. She had let you borrow one of your bikinis. You two were slightly different sizes though, so the suit was a little tight on you. You didn’t mind very much. You were just happy to be out of the same clothes you had worn for 3 weeks. Sanji didn’t mind either, ogling both you and Nami and basically worshipping the two of you. “It’s ok, he’ll get over it in a few hours,” Nami consoled. You circled the deck a few times to see if Zoro was anywhere in sight, but you couldn’t seem to find him. He probably went inside to nap away from the heat. Part of you wanted him to get the rest he deserved. The other really wanted him to see you in your outfit. 

The day really took a turn when Usopp brought out the liquor from the kitchen. “I was saving that asshole!” Sanji yelled. “Oh come on, this is a special occasion!” Usopp pleaded. With some more convincing, Sanji finally gave in. You and the crew got increasingly drunk throughout the evening, Zoro eventually coming out from wherever he was napping to join the party. You all had even decided to jump into the ocean and swim around for a little bit. All except for Chopper, very sober and very nervous for any incoming sea monsters. He had managed to get you all back onto the ship with some very convincing pleading.

You and Zoro caught each other catching glimpses of one another throughout the rest of the day. Zoro admiring your figure in the swimsuit, and you ogling at the way his damp shirt hugged at his muscles. One by one, as day grew into night, crew members began to pass out on the deck, deciding to sleep outside for the night. You and the other members who wanted to go back into the cabin, Zoro and Robin, made your way back down into the ship. “Make sure you tie her back up. No hard feelings but we can’t be too careful.” Even slightly tipsy, she was still her stern old self. “Yeah whatever whatever, goodnight to you too,” Zoro drunkenly pushed off. You giggled and blushed as he took your hand and led you down the stairs into the cabin. Robin sighed to herself as she watched the two of you scamper off.

You felt your heartbeat get increasingly faster as he led you to your room. For some reason, the air in the hallway got thicker as you got closer. You blamed it on your tipsiness. But your heart slowly sank as you got to the door, realizing you had to say goodbye to Zoro for the day. He opened the door and stumbled into your room, leading you in behind him. He closed the door behind him, hesitating for a moment before going to wrap the rope back around your wrists. 

He seems distressed for some reason, breathing heavily and avoiding eye contact. You look down at your hands, as he so gently maneuvers the rope around them. The butterflies begin to well up in your stomach again, the alcohol fueling their ferocity. His hands. So calloused yet so gentle. You can smell the remnants of sake exuding from Zoro’s heavy breaths. You looked back up at him. Were you two always standing this close together? You the butterflies keep rising and rising. You don’t know what to do with yourself. You’re not sure if you should run, kiss him, punch him, but you have to do something before you implode. Until. He stops.

The rope undoes itself in his hands as he freezes. His hands are shaking, his breath is heavy, and his eyes avoid yours like the plague. You were just getting antsy but Zoro seemed in distress. “Hey?” you ask, lowering your hands and dropping the rope to the floor. “Zoro?” You take your hand under his chin and lift his eyes to yours. You might throw up at any second. His eyes are so softly intense. 

He brushed his thumb against your cheek, sending chills down your spine. You both want the same thing. Both of you are just too scared to take the chance. “It’s ok. You’re okay,” you reassure him, placing your hand over his heart. His heart, which happens to be underneath his bare chest, him having taken off his wet shirt earlier. His breathing slows, and his eyes move down ever so smoothly from your eyes to your plump lips. You catch yourself doing the same to him, and you inching closer to him. “You’re fine.” Closer. “We’re gonna be…fine.” Your lips barely brush each other. The gentleness of the kiss is calming though, as you notice Zoro’s breath slowing. 

You brush again. And again. And again. Lips touching a little more with each meet. Until they fully interlock. The two of you melt into each other as Zoro wanders your back into a wall for support. Your kisses are structured, made to get the most out of each meeting. You’re both ravenous for each other, but you know if you go at each other like mad dogs, you won’t get what you want. So you both take your time getting to know the feeling of the other person’s mouth. You slip a moan out as Zoro’s tongue seeps between your lips. His kisses get slightly more sloppy as he runs his hands down your body. He feels the underneath of your breasts, the curves of your waist and hips, and finds a nice resting place under your ass. Your hands roam his cheeks and jaw, making their way to tug slightly on his moss-colored hair. 

“Needed this,” Zoro whispers in between kisses. “Needed you so badly. But I didn’t know how.” He separates his lips from yours and plants kisses and hickeys along your jaw and neck. “I was always just too nervous for some reason. You make me so nervous.” His hands find their way into your bikini bottom and fondle your asscheeks, getting a low moan out of you. The alcohol must’ve given him a confidence boost. “Good to see you found your footing now,” you whisper in his ear. He chuckles, the butterflies speeding up in your stomach. 

The two of you stay here for a little bit. Hell, you could stay like this for hours. Just soaking each other in. Feeling his warmth brought a fire into your soul. You could tell Zoro was getting a little antsy though, one of his hands moving from your back to your front, beginning to slowly circle your clit. The other hand went to your bikini, untying the back and letting it fall to the floor as his mouth moved to your breast. Waves of pleasure crashed through your body as you let him do his work. “God, you sure this is your first time?” you moaned out. He removed his mouth from your nipple to talk. “Never said it was, sweetheart. You just assumed it.” “Well from the loner vibe you got going on mixed with being on this ship 24/7, you can’t blame me for thinking that.” “Well the loner vibe worked on you, so who’s to say it hasn’t worked on others?” he smirked. You laughed to yourself as he got down on his knees.

Zoro slipped off your bikini bottom, completing the set on the floor. He kissed your v-line with the same softness he treated your lips to. He sat back on his knees for a moment to catch his breath, looking up at you, as if to ask for permission. You held your hand out to his cheek and rubbed it with your thumb. His eyes closed as he placed his hand over yours, as if you would ever take it away from him. God now this was a sight you could get used to. He was so infatuated with you it made your heart ache. He was right here at your disposal, yet you wanted more of him. So you bent down and gave him a sloppy forehead kiss. Once you were back up, he decided to go in. 

Like most things he does, he started slow and controlled. He kissed and sucked on your inner thighs. Once his hand finally left your clit, you knew he was ready. He kissed your cunt, using his tongue to lick up your wetness. You could pass out right now if you had less self-control. Whimpers and moans left your lips, your hips naturally starting to grind against his nose, relieving the ache in your clit. You let him know what felt good by the tugs and yanks you put in his hair. He was a natural. Your guess about his tongue earlier was right too. “You taste so good, just as I imagined,” Zoro breathed onto your lips. You could tell he was starting to lose his composure with the way he continued to bury his face into your pussy. Your cunt naturally tightened around his tongue as he tasted you. Your hips began to buck into his face as your grinding pace increased, the butterflies turning into a white heat you felt getting stronger and stronger. Your bud was becoming more swollen by the second. Your grip on his hair tightened to make up for your failing knees. 

You wouldn’t be able to take much more. Zoro wouldn’t either, his hand making its way into his pants to relieve his own bulge. His pace got faster to match your grinds. The smack of your lips against his tongue, mixed with both of your moans, was pornographically loud. Suddenly, the situation of Robin or another crew member hearing became an apparent one to you. That worry quickly left your mind once one of Zoro’s hands made its way to fondle your nipple. If he asked you to follow him anywhere right now, you might just do it if it meant this every other night. You felt he knew your body better than you did. “So pretty. So good for me. You make this so easy,” Zoro groaned between licks. “Zoro god fuck me please!” Your final whimper sent you over the edge as you wailed and came all over his perfect face. He licked up your juices as he finished his own job as well. Your knees finally gave out as you fell on top of him, into his arms.

He brought you down gently, straddling you on his lap as you wrapped your arms around him. He traced his cum soaked hand across your back and kissed your nape. You were more exhausted than expected, almost passing out in the crook of his neck. Even now, he was so gentle with you. “You did so good, darling,” he praised, kissing your earlobe. “Want…more…want you…inside me,” you managed to get out. He just laughed and pushed you up to look at you. “If you took me right now, I don’t think you’d wake up tomorrow morning. Look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open, sweetheart,” he teased. You pouted. “Oh, you feel that proud of yourself?” your drunkenness fueling your frustration. “No no no, sweetheart,” he chuckled. Once your frown didn’t change, he stopped laughing and pressed a kiss deep into your forehead. “I’m sorry. What I meant was, if I fucked you with everything I have left right now, which is the only way I would want to do it, this floor would leave us with sore backs for weeks.” You stayed frowning. “I want to fuck you right, the way you deserve. And I can’t do it for you right now.” You pouted more at him. He smiled up at you and leaned in closer to your ear. “If you trust me, I promise I’ll make it worth your while. You’ll be walking funny for weeks.” God, you almost came again just now. You didn’t notice how much your jaw dropped until Zoro laughed at you. You couldn’t help but laugh back in tune with his infectious laughter. 

He kissed you with a fever behind his lips, then scanned the room around the two of you. “What’s wrong?” you drowsily asked. The exhaustion from you coming, the sleepiness brought by the alcohol, and how late it was getting was starting to overpower you. Zoro didn’t respond. He just grabbed your swimsuit and helped you put it back on, tightened your legs around his hips, and hoisted you up as he stood. You decided to ask questions once you had a clearer idea of what was happening. He opened the door and walked with you down the hallway, passing the girl’s quarters and into the men’s room. He checked inside quickly before bringing you in and signaling you to bring your legs down. You confusedly followed him to his bed as he groaned, rubbed his back, and sat down on the edge of the bunk. “Wanna explain to me what you’re doing?” you asked, slightly more awake. “If you think I’m just gonna leave you to sleep alone, tied up, on that dirty floor after what we just did, then you must think I’m a really shitty guy,” Zoro quipped before getting under the covers and trying to pull you down. You put some resistance towards him though. 

“B-but Zoro, I’m not supposed to be in here.”

“I know.”

“If someone catches me in here we’re both fucked.”

“They won’t catch you.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ll wake up before Robin starts her shift.”

“Are you sure, I mean I just don’t kn-.”

“Hey.”

You stop your nervous rabbling and look at him as he sits back up. “Do you want to go back and sleep on the cold, dirty, hard floor?” You really didn’t. “No.” “Then stay here with me.” “But what if-.” “Do you trust me?”

You sure hope you did after all of that. His kind eyes reassured you in the darkness surrounding the two of you. You took a deep breath and nodded. “Do you trust me?” he asked again. “I trust you, Zoro,” you confirmed. He smiled kindly at you. “You’re fine. We’re gonna be fine.” He steadied you by placing his hands on your hips, running his hands along your waist, and pressing his lips into your tummy. You loved the way he looked at you. Like you were his whole world. It was comforting.

He took your hand and helped you into bed. You bundled yourself under the covers and wrapped yourself around his frame. He kissed your temples one more time before slipping into sleep, his light snores hypnotizing you into a slumber of your own.

The last thing you remember before dozing off was the feeling of his hands on your waist.

Everything you wanted was right here. In front of you. Straight out of a dream. Your only fear was that it would be gone once you woke up.

a/n: THIS TOOK FOREVER GOOD LORD. anyways thanks for being here for my comeback era lol. my upload schedule is NOT going to be consistent this is just a little splurge i wanted to write lol. thank you for reading i really appreciate it (i also really appreciate engagement lol please like repost comment etc im greedy). i love one piece and i love zoro. once i meet law expect all hell to break loose im gonna write so much fanfiction about him its concerning hes so fine im so excited. anyways lol thanks love you bye.

[sea-creature-things]

Grimwalker things

Chapter 5: Sleep

Having dinosaur lungs can NOT be good for your health lol

For anyone actually following my fic, I'm so sorry this chapter took literal months to make. Life was a bitch and got in the way, but I'm back now and I'm gonna try to get the next chapter out much faster <333

Read here below the cut or on AO3 with this link:

Hunter walked on the soft forest floor. The leaves and moss cushioned his feet. There was no path to follow, but he knew where to go. Through the trees, there was a certain way forward.

Large, winding, blue trees. Everywhere. He’s never seen Palistrom trees this tall before. There was a thick canopy above him, but the forest was exceptionally light. Like the sun had an unbothered reach to the floor.

It must be summer.

Everywhere he looked was teeming with life. Those magnificent winding trees had a bunch of shelf-like mushrooms on them. He saw a small, black and white bird standing on one, while it drilled into the tree bark. There were tiny flowers growing between the roots on the ground. He saw a few butterflies fluttering around them.

He always thought that, even though their bodies were very disturbing, their wings were the prettiest things.

The forest wasn’t just bright, it was noisy. He heard rodents scurrying, insects buzzing, and many more birds chirping. All just out of sight. Hunter knew he probably wouldn’t see any larger creatures, he wasn’t exactly being stealthy.

But he didn’t feel like he should be.

He was just walking. On a path that he knew. He wasn't hunting or tracking anything, he wasn't on a mission. No beast in existence wouldn't notice his approach.

The exact moment when he had that thought, he was proven wrong. There, previously hidden behind the giant tree trunk Hunter walked past, was a Celeritas deer. He was surprised to say the least. The demon was too, its head shot up and it stared at him like, well like a deer in headlights.

Hunter stood still as well, admiring the majestic beast. Its blueish fur was meant for camouflage, its legs were even red to blend in with the grass. The deer broke out of its frozen state, turning and running in a show of that top speed it was famous for.

And Hunter let it go.

Because he didn't have to chase it. Because he could just watch. Because he could relax here. He was sure of it. This forest was a place where people should relax.

As he continued walking, the forest slowly become less bright. He could see the sky beyond the canopy a little, the fluffy clouds had turned into beautiful shades of purple and orange. He’d been here for quite a while.

It must be a really large forest.

Life was slowing down, the flowers were closing and the animals were leaving to sleep. The shadows grew and the sky turned darker and darker. Still, Hunter knew the way forward. When the dusk turned into night, the forest once again came alive.

Hunter could hear more sounds than before, but couldn’t see the nocturnal creatures that came out of hiding. He hoped any large demons were still too shy, because night was the best time to hunt. If there were Celeritas deer in this biome, there were predators who ate them. And Hunter wasn’t exactly thrilled to become a ‘unique dessert’.

The moon and stars made sure it wasn’t entirely pitch black. So he didn’t feel too scared. In fact, he felt just as relaxed as when it was daytime.

Something caught his eye, a light blue glow at the base of a tree he had already passed. Between the roots and the long red grass, sat an ice blue crystalline rock. It emanated a soft but cold light. He was instantly intrigued, but when he turned to get a closer look, a noise made his ears prick up.

“Hunter.”

He felt the hairs on his neck stand upright as a familiar voice whispered behind him. His head quickly shot back again.

But there was no one there.

He scanned the environment in front of him. The trees still looked the same and, most importantly, the forest was still loud. If there was a beast stalking him, the birds and rodents would stay far away. He must’ve imagined it.

“Hunter!”

This time he was certain the voice was real. It came from beyond the trees, as if someone was calling him over. It felt so familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

The chances of a puppeteer demon messing with him were low. And he still didn’t feel the slightest bit worried or afraid. He was only curious. It felt like he was going to see someone important. This was the person he had walked literal hours for.

“HUNTER!”

A sudden pain hit him hard in the chest. Like a violent punch or a blunt object traveling at mach speed.

He could almost feel the electrical current through his back as he shot upright and his eyes flew open. His lungs filled with air in one big gasp. Flailing, his arms searched in front of him, grasping at anything to hold onto. But there was nothing and his arms fell back down immediately.

Where was he?!

It was too bright. It gave him a headache, his eyes were struggling to adjust to the lights. His bedroom was never like this in the morning. Where was his staff? Where was his mask? Where was Flapjack? He heard his palisman somewhere in the room, but the chirping was a little hard to understand. Actually, there were a lot of muffled sounds that he couldn’t hear quite right.

Suddenly, he felt something wrap around his neck. His hands instinctively grabbed onto it. He flinched away as much as he could, searching quickly with blurry vision. The panic went as quickly as it came, when he realised it was just Gus. His friend was hanging around his neck and pressing against his shoulder, hugging tightly. Hunter relaxed, moving his right hand to try and hug him back in this awkward position.

Wait. He hasn’t been at the castle in forever.

Everything came flooding back to him. The disastrous mission at the Night Market, a stressful hideaway at Hexside, the Day of Unity and a portal to the Human Realm- basement!

He’s been sleeping in Luz’s basement for 7 weeks! Hunter groaned from the pain behind his temples. He rubbed the side of his face and tried to move his legs slightly. His limbs were really heavy, like he was wading through molasses. Waking up had never been this difficult before.

There was a soft sniffling sound coming from his right. He looked at Gus, his eyes finally worked properly, and saw the boy’s shoulders shaking. He took uneven, tiny breaths that made his body jolt like a hiccup. His face, which was difficult to see underneath Hunter’s own chin, was all scrunched up and his eyes were shut tight. Any air that escaped his mouth came out in soft sobs and when he sniffed through his nose, there was a loud and pretty gross sound.

He was crying.

“Gus? What happened, what’s wrong?” Hunter asked immediately alarmed, his voice came out a little hoarse. With his free arm he pushed ever so lightly against his friend’s shoulder, trying to get a better look at him.

The hold on his neck loosened a little when Gus looked up. He took a deep breath to try and form words, but it only came out as abrupt coughing. Then his lip trembled and anything he said was impossible to understand. He buried his face back into Hunter’s neck as his shoulders continued to shake and his sobs grew louder.

With his newly restored sight, Hunter looked around the room in search of possible danger. He was extremely surprised to find the girls all gathered around his bed.

Willow was sitting beside Gus on her knees. She was gripping the fabric of his sleeping bag. Amity sat at the foot of his bed. She held her hands together in front of her chest with tense shoulders. Vee was standing behind her. She was in a half-human disguise with yellow piercing eyes and a tail wrapped around her legs. Her hands were clutching a phone.

They all looked mortified.

Alarm bells went off in his head. Something happened and he wasn’t there to protect them.

“What happened?” Hunter asked again, looking back and forth between the three of them. He couldn’t keep his voice from betraying the fear he felt.

Willow was still clutching the edges of his bed, her eyes locked on his. She breathed deep and steady. It looked like she was fighting the urge to cry, but maybe that was just interpretation, he wasn't sure. Vee shivered and her rigid body moved out of the blue. She sat down between the other two girls, her gaze anxiously shifting all over the place. Amity stared at the floor and blinked a few times before she looked back up. Her eyes were the only part of her face where he could see her true feelings.

A harrowing mixture of fear and stress was present on all of their faces. But he also saw a lot of relief in their expressions.

Flapjack, who had been circling above him in a wild storm of chirps that Hunter couldn’t follow, landed in front of him. The cardinal had to catch his breath and hung his wings beside him instead of folding them up. Exhausted, he hopped over to his witch’s left hand and rubbed against the palm. It would’ve been comforting if the state of his palisman hadn’t chilled Hunter to the bone.

“Gus woke us up a few minutes ago.” Amity took up the role of explaining, forever capable in high-stress situations. But the tone of her voice was flooded with unease. “He told us you weren’t breathing.”

What?

“Hunter are you okay?” Amity asked worried when he didn’t respond. He couldn’t respond, he couldn’t think, he could only watch her as his vision slowly hazed over.

What?!

“Does he look okay!?” Willow burst out, gesturing wildly. Hunter’s attention snapped towards her, his vision briefly refocusing.

This wasn’t happening.

“He’s clearly in shock!” Vee yelled. She also moved her hands wildly, her features shifting in distress. Gus’s grip on his neck disappeared and Hunter felt himself sway woozily in the now free space around him.

This was not happening!

“Stop yelling at each other!” The youngest witch shouted at the girls. His outburst definitely worked, because they all went silent and looked at him in surprise.

Hunter’s stomach churned, a rising nauseous feeling morphed to dizziness in his head. The ringing in his ears grew louder. The pain in his head became sharper. He blinked rapidly, straining to focus.

Gus wiped his wet eyes aggressively with his sleeve. This seemed to quiet down the others even more. Willow shrunk out of her fire and, when Gus sniffed in a nasty way again while tears kept pouring from his eyes, she rubbed his back in an effort to soothe him. Vee was breathing heavily, seemingly deliberate, trying to calm herself down and get her magic under control. She was struggling to do so, judging from the way her half-human hands clawed in the air. Hunter watched in a daze as Amity noticed it too and carefully touched Vee’s hand. The basilisk startled, but quickly understood her friend’s comforting gesture. She gratefully interlocked her fingers and squeezed in Amity’s hand. It must’ve worked, because her breathing slowed down and her magic became stable again. Amity gave her a strained smile, then locked eyes with the floor and let out a heavy sigh of her own.

Luz!

Where was Luz? He had found her earlier, right? She was here too, right? She had to be. Why hadn’t she said anything yet?

It felt like his thoughts were trudging through mud. Vee had said something about shock, but that wasn’t quite right. He knew what shock felt like and this definitely wasn't it. Still, his mind wasn't working like it should be. He felt nothing but confusion.

He finally found Luz. She was the only one on his left side, sitting on her knees and hugging her stomach. Her face was pale, almost ashen, and her entire frame was tense. How in Titan’s name could he not find her? She was right next to him!

She was looking at him so intently, as if he would disappear if she didn’t watch him. He silently begged her to say something. To tell him what was going on. To help him out of this mess! But she just kept staring at him. Was she even seeing anything at all?

“Hunter?” Willow broke through his trance. Her voice was so tiny, it didn’t fit her at all. Seeing her scared was unnerving. If Willow of all people was scared, then how the hell was he supposed to feel?

No, how? He seriously couldn’t tell. It felt like his brain was filled to the brim with fog and the more he tried to search through it, the more he got lost.

“I…” His voice was still hoarse. He swallowed to remedy his dry, sandpaper throat, but it barely helped. “I don’t understand.”

Willow looked taken aback slightly, this was clearly not the response she expected. Her pretty features morphed into concern. She squirmed in her seat, trying to form a response, sharing an unsure look with Vee and Amity. The pink-haired witch at least tried, her eyes darting around and her mouth gaping like a fish. An indecisive hum escaped when she snapped it shut, completely at a loss. Vee had long since surrendered, keeping her eyes on her fidgeting hands to avoid any expectations.

In the silence, Gus’ shaky sigh was painfully loud. He’d calmed down a lot, probably thanks to Willow, and had been following the awkward glances of the three girls. He turned to face Hunter again and took a deep breath.

“I had a nightmare.” He began. Emmiline had taken a position on his shoulder, rubbing her face lovingly against his cheek. Flapjack had settled into his lap, likewise trying to comfort the 12 year old. He’s only 12 years old! “It made me really anxious, so I went to wake you up. Cuz you said you wouldn’t mind.”

The last part sounded more like a question, as if he was asking for confirmation. Hunter could only give a few quick nods.

“But-“ Gus’s voice broke. Despite Emmi and Flap’s best efforts, there were new tears forming in his eyes. “But you wouldn’t wake up! You were so still a-and it looked like you weren’t breathing. So I checked!” He added quickly, as though someone would hold it against him if he hadn’t. “I ch-checked your mouth and I-… I couldn’t feel anything!”

A sense of dread came over him as Hunter looked at his friend’s terrified face. He had a theory, a sickening gut feeling that settled down after listening to that story. For what felt like the hundredth time, his vision glazed over only to focus anew when Willow spoke up.

“That’s when he went to get us.” She said as she put her comforting arm back around Gus. The witchling let himself fall against her.

“Everything happened so fast.” Amity added, which Vee supported with a nod, her gaze still very much locked on her claws. The tension in the room was almost visible.

Everyone was on edge because of him. Everyone was afraid because of him.

The overwhelming urge to puke felt more real with every second. He knew what it must’ve looked like. He knew what they must’ve thought.

“And Hunter…” Willow was trying to catch his eyes, but he looked away. “We couldn’t find your pulse.”

Hunter’s head whipped around to Luz so fast it hurt his neck.

You let them check for a pulse?!?

She was still in the same crumbled up pose as before, uncharacteristically motionless. But his sudden and intense glare made her jolt backwards, a nearly unnoticeable amount. She blinked for seemingly the first time and met his eyes apologetically.

No- Stop!

This wasn’t her fault!

It wasn’t her fault that this happened. It wasn’t her fault that they checked for a pulse. And it wasn’t her fault that he doesn’t have one. That he doesn’t have a bloodstream. That he doesn’t have real organs, or a real body… That he isn’t real.

Wait-

He does have a bloodstream, he could bleed! He had bled just a few days ago! This was absurd! Stupid! Of course he has blood, he might be a grimwalker but he is alive! He just… doesn’t have a heart.

Hunter placed a hand on his chest. His Galderstone’s subtle pulsing almost felt like a heartbeat, it was trying its best.

He absentmindedly rubbed his chest, then his sternum. Hard, just like he was taught, the pain helped him tune back in. He was met with Luz’s worried face, this time he gave her an apologetical look. He also realised that Amity had been talking this entire time.

“-veins, so I have no idea if we were doing it right. I mean, obviously not because we couldn’t feel anything. Titan, I should’ve paid more attention in healing class. Or actually listened to Emira when she was talking about these things.” She rattled on. Luz reached over the sleeping bag to hold her girlfriend’s hand. Amity immediately quieted down, letting out a trembling sigh. She gave her a grateful smile that spoke volumes.

Luz really had been in some kind of trance just now. Had she come to the same conclusions as he had?

“I was trying to find…” Vee pointed at her phone as her voice trailed off in disappointment. She dropped her hands to her lap. “Anything that might help.”

She looked just as surprised as the rest that she had suddenly found her voice. Her tail unwrapped from her legs and landed with an agitated sweep behind her. Shifting uncomfortably, she cleared her throat.

“Then Gus slammed your chest.” Vee continued. That was probably the pain he had felt earlier. The punch that had ripped him out of that dream. The basilisk looked at Gus, he was still slumped against the older witch, but his tears had dried. She gave him a worn smile that fell just as quickly. “Luckily that worked.”

The room fell silent. Were they waiting on him? Hunter tried to think of something to say, anything. But the fog, and the mud, and every other mess he was searching through didn’t want to comply.

Maybe things were just moving too fast. Maybe he was still reeling from his rude awakening. Maybe he really was in shock. He didn’t know why, but he wasn't panicking like all the other times. He wasn’t in a cold sweat, breathing rapidly, heart beating fast and loud against his ribcage.

He was numb.

And his head hurt, and he couldn’t think. All he could do was look at their faces, hazily and contrite.

Intense stares drilled into him. They were expecting an explanation. Or a promise that he was okay, however unbelievable it would be. Or at least a reaction. Anything!

But he had nothing. He didn’t know. He genuinely didn’t know.

What if he was wrong? What if this wasn't a grimwalker thing? What if there was actually something wrong with him?

“I’m not saying there is something wrong with you, but maybe it’s a good idea if Camila takes a look?” Vee offered, as if she had been holding her breath and only now let go. He knew how uncomfortable she got in the silence. “I know she’s a vet and not a doctor, but she still knows a lot about health.”

“Not about Witch-health!” Amity yelled, her harsh tone surprised him.

“It’s not that different!” Willow said defensively.

“We don’t know that!”

“Don’t you want to make sure he’s okay?!”

“Of course I do!”

Their bickering made his headache even worse. Maybe in a different situation, or simply at a different time, it would be amusing. He’d interject with a lighthearted joke or an understanding remark. Or something else that in another moment would’ve worked. Or even something that failed but still managed to make them realise what they were doing.

But this wasn’t that moment.

“We-“

“I think that’s a good idea, Vee.” Hunter interjected, pushing through the pain in his throat. Addressing his sister directly, like Willow and Amity weren’t even there, calm and resolute. He was so done with this.

This moment, this situation, this night. He wanted it to end already.

The basement fell silent again. This was basically him admitting that there was something wrong. He decided to play it that way.

He was tired. He couldn’t explain shit. He couldn’t calm them down. He couldn’t reassure anyone.

He looked at Luz. Her eyes locked with his, a sheen of recognition painted her face. She didn’t have the same horrified look in her eyes as the others, but her face was stiff with worry.

I don’t know what else to do. Please help me.

His sister's stare widened. She placed a hand on his shoulder, a forced smile on her face. And, finally, she spoke.

“Okay. I’ll go get her.”

——————

The harsh blue lights gave the kitchen a cold atmosphere. It was definitely the middle of the night. The window was like a pitch black portal, no stars or moon to illuminate the garden, apparently the lights along the road didn't reach that far either. It was uncomfortably different from the warm, inviting kitchen Hunter was used to.

Camila was examining him, she said the kitchen would be better suited because it was bigger and had better lighting. Unfortunately, she was right. She had instructed him to hop on the kitchen island. Then she grabbed the first aid kit and some of her veterinary stuff.

So now Hunter was slouched over, with his legs dangling over the edge. He was vaguely aware of the clump of his friends gathered in the corner. They had stopped just in front of the doorway. Hunter knew they were watching, but he couldn't find the energy to care.

Flapjack was standing on the counter next to him. Every now and then, he chirped some comforting words. Flap was trying his best to soothe his witch, but he was still very worn out. His feathers were ruffled and his beady eyes blinked sluggishly. He looked pretty much like how Hunter felt.

Past nausea and dizziness, he didn't feel much of anything. But the room was already spinning a lot less than before Camila started this investigation. The closest thing he felt to an emotion was confusion. A feeling that had refused to leave ever since that dream.

Most dreams feel real in the moment, but when you wake up they're so obviously ridiculous. This dream wasn't like that. Even now it felt like he had actually walked through that forest. He could remember everything so vividly.

It was disorienting.

It had been so tangible, so authentic, even though he's never in his life seen a palistrom forest like that. In fact, he was sure those didn't exist anymore.

It was a proper forest. Not the sad orchard that he’s visited so many times, where all the trees grew in straight rows and weren’t allowed to get too high. Where not even mice nor insects dared to live, forget about any large beasts!

Besides, it was weird for him to have anything other than a cold-sweat nightmare.

Hunter mentally kicked himself. His dream was hardly the most important thing right now. But he couldn't stop thinking about it. Did it mean something? Was it related to the way he slept that night? Or was it just a stupid dream? More pleasant than his usual, but just as unhelpful.

His eyes searched the floor, but the off-white linoleum didn’t hold any answers. Obviously.

"Honey, I need to put the stethoscope on your skin, do you mind if I slide it under you shirt?" Camila asked carefully, interrupting his train of thought. She tugged softly on the back of his shirt, making sure Hunter knew what she meant.

He did. It would be a lot easier for her if he simply took it off, or held his shirt up to expose his back. But there were a lot of scars there. It’s not that he was ashamed of them, but he he wasn't eager to show them either. This was different from a few scars on his legs, he didn’t know how his friends and Camila would react.

"N-" He tried to answer her, but the air caught in his throat, like his voice was trapped. And when he shook his head, Camila didn't seem to understand what he meant. He sighed and tried again. "No, go ahead."

Hunter was reminded of when he sat on an examination bed in the infirmary. He hated the healing coven, but he really shouldn't. They kept him alive. He was only allowed to go there when he had to, when his newest wounds were too serious to heal on their own.

He just hated when that happened.

The healing coven witches would move around him in much the same way Camila was doing. The cold part of her stethoscope pressed against his back, then his chest. Finally something that felt familiar and it had to be this.

He moved his limbs as she instructed, breathed exactly like she told him to while he stared into the wall ahead. His long hair hanging in sad strands around his face, like a curtain shielding his expression from outsiders. Or rather, from his friends. He didn't want to look at them, and he didn't want them to look at him.

“Let me check… some more things.” Camila said hesitantly, her hand a few inches from his chin. He made no motions to get away from her. So she placed one hand on the side of his face, holding him gently, and the other under his chin. He felt two finger press into his skin.

It would’ve been really nice if he didn’t know she was checking for a pulse. Where he was so sure just a minute ago, he now had no clue. Did he have one or not? He couldn’t remember if he’d ever checked his own pulse.

He’s placed a hand over his heart plenty of times, and his galderstone used to fool him with its fake beats. But why would he ever bother to check his own pulse? Using a technique he specifically learned to check if other people were still alive on himself was absurd.

Against his will, his eyes fluttered up and looked into Camila’s. She then looked into his, as if she could sense it. Maybe she could. She gave him the softest, gentlest, most comforting smile. And he nearly broke.

Please just say there's nothing wrong with me.

Hunter quickly fixed his gaze back on the ground. There was a pressure on his eyes, a kind of pain that meant he was exhausted. A pain he knew very well. Sleepless nights were a constant in his life. At first it was simply from working on countless missions as the golden guard. He didn’t have time to sleep.

In Hexside he was too scared to sleep. And the first few days in the human realm he just wasn’t able to. No matter how much his eyes burned, he stayed awake, thinking too much.

Stone sleeper lungs.

The words kept repeating in his mind. That was his theory, his gut feeling, his explanation. He had read about Stonesleepers, even before his desperate raid of Hexside’s library. He used to think they were cool. Learning about the dinosaurs that used to roam the Boiling Isles in his studies was actually fun.

But now, thinking back to the books he read in his hideout left a bitter taste in his mouth.

The Stonesleeper has a very unique ability. This creature can go into something aptly named ‘the stone sleep’, during which it slows its breathing down to near zero. Subsequently, its metabolism and heartbeat also slow down. The creature then turns its hide to stone using petrification magic.

It this state, the demon is protected from all kinds of threats and has no need to hunt. A perfect hibernation, used in moments of danger but more often in moments of peace. When it feels safe enough to rest.

However, not every Stonesleeper with a rocky hide is actually in a stone sleep. The creature has evolved to use its unique ability as camouflage or even as a decoy, tricking potential prey into a false sense of security. Until the demon strikes.

He had read the same information again and again, in five different books, next to the passages and stories about grimwalkers. Searching for any correlation, any shared traits, any effect on personality or character. He’d been so desperate to learn about himself that the air became harder to breathe, and the edges of vision went dark. Flapjack had to calm him down and forced the books closed with his tiny beak. He’d begged his witch to go somewhere else for a bit.

Hunter could barely call it a theory anymore, part of him knew it was the truth. What happened earlier tonight was the result of his dinosaur lungs. And it was terrifying, he didn’t want to be anything like them.

Stonesleepers were not cool. They were giant, dangerous monsters. Vicious predators that survived a mass extinction during the Hecktaceous period, only to terrorise people of the Deadwardian era.

They were scary, Hunter didn’t want to be scary. He already terrified his friends tonight and he hated it. The look in their eyes after he asked for Camila, the glances they exchange when they thought he couldn’t see, it killed him.

He was a little wobbly on the stairs and they all looked so worried. He already regretted his decision when he watched Luz leave. But a big part of him genuinely and desperately wanted to check it out. Not breathing was very concerning, grimwalker or not.

Then Luz came back to the living room with Camila on her heels.

Amity and Willow had to explain everything again. Hunter couldn’t really follow it, not that he tried very hard. There was no new ground being broken, he had all the information already. Listening to it again, this time with Camila’s reaction right there…

He didn’t want to follow it.

He had made the mistake of looking into her eyes then as well. The horrified expression that formed on Camila's face after they told her... It was so foreign to him. He wanted to cry. He wanted to apologise. He wanted to travel in time and never let Luz wake her up.

She really cared.

He knew that already. But every time she showed it, every time he saw her face full of concern, it was like a fresh new gut punch. As if he never learned his lesson: Camila cared.

She had stayed silent for an unbearable time, then she promised to take a look and led them to the kitchen. And now they were here, under the cold, unnatural lights. A soft pitter patter started to fall on the roof above. It quickly turned into louder, more harsh rainfall. The black portal that was supposed to be a window had streaks of water run down it's surface.

He still had mixed feelings about the non-boiling rains of the human world, but the sound was always comforting.

“Alright cariño,” Camila said as she packed up her work kit. She caressed his hair, clearing his face. He braved to look at her and anxiously awaited her verdict. She put another strand behind his ear and gave him another painfully tender smile. “I am sure you’re okay.”

Hunter was suddenly flooded with so many feelings that he couldn’t distinguish any of them.

“Thank goodness,” Flapjack chirped and hopped closer on the counter. It startled him, he kind of forgot Flap was there. Hunter scratched his palisman on the cheek, he recognise the relief on his little face as one of the feelings in the lively mix of emotions inside him.

But he couldn’t muster a nod.

He couldn’t tell him he agreed, because now it was officially a grimwalker thing. Flap didn’t notice his reluctance however. He gratefully melted into the chin scratches.

Hunter felt terrible for the stress he’d caused his sweet little palisman. He wondered if his condition had effected Flapjack in some way. Palismen were very in tune with their witches emotions, sometimes too much so. Hopefully this wasn’t part of that magical connection, but just Flap being tired.

Hunter did feel more at ease doting on his palisman. He was happy with Camila’s news, and very grateful.

For the first time, Hunter looked back at the doorway. Relief was painted clearly on his friends’ faces. Luz was snug against Amity’s side, her head resting on her girlfriend’s shoulder. Her eyes were shut in an exhausted kind of calm. Amity’s own head rested on top of Luz’s, but her eyes were locked on Hunter. She smiled, strained but genuine.

Luz was holding Vee’s hand. Whose other hand was pressed against her chest, meeting the tip of her tail that spiralled down, wrapped tightly around her. She was smiling as well, but hers was not strained. She beamed at him, looking almost cheerful, and swung the arm attached to her sister back and forth.

The solace his sisters gave each other was difficult to see when it was him they needed comfort from.

Gus was on Vee’s other side, but he was somewhat turned away from her, because of the way he hugged to Willow. Gus’s face was obstructed by Emmiline, who snuggled her witch with a surge of kind words. Willow had her arm over his shoulder, the other one was wrapped around her own stomach. Her beautiful peridot eyes were fixed on Hunter. She took a deep breath while squeezing Gus tighter against her. The ghost of a smile tugged at her lips.

Hunter had difficulty looking anyone it the eyes, let alone smile back.

He focussed back on Flapjack, who was more than happy to receive his attention, and eventually on Camila. She had followed his looks at his friends. She, unlike him, was capable of giving them a reassuring expression.

“I couldn’t really find a pulse either, but I’m pretty sure you’re still alive.” Camila said playfully, still stroking his hair. Her humour fell flat as Hunter was suddenly very busy with keeping his dinner down. The stone that fell onto his stomach may as well have been his heart.

He was right after all, he had no pulse.

Judging from the fraught silence coming from the doorway, the rest couldn’t appreciate the joke either. But eventually a few voices murmured in support.

“Maybe your anatomy is just a little different?” Camila offered somewhat awkwardly, throwing a questioning glance at the witches. Hunter didn’t follow up to see their answer. “Your heart and lungs sound perfect, so a weak pulse is out of the question.”

She said it so matter of factly and she kept patting his head, he wanted to believe her.

“Maybe…” Camila began, as if she was contemplating something. She moved her hand onto his shoulder. Looking from him to the other kids when she decided to go on. "There are different stages of sleep. One of them is called deep sleep. That’s when our brains slow down, our muscles relax, our temperature drops, and our breathing becomes really slow. Now, this is also the stage that’s the most difficult to wake up from.”

Hunter fixed his eyes on the wall again. Camila's explanation was of more use for the other kids. It was nice, it just didn't apply. While she kept talking about ‘brain waves’ and ‘sleep cycles’, he found himself more interested in the wall’s decorations. The green wallpaper had such a different colour at night. The rustic shelf mounted on it was littered with all kinds of knickknacks.

Picture frames, spices, oddly specific kitchen gadgets. And a plant that spilled over the edges of its pot, which Willow had immediately volunteered to take care of. Just like all the other plants in the house, the number of which had steadily increased over the weeks.

In the same way they had done in the basement, his eyes slowly glazed over. His vision became blurry and unfocused, his hearing muffled. Camila's voice seemed to blend into the background.

Then he felt something on his cheek.

"Oh hijo." It was Camila's hand, holding his face. She gently turned his head to face her. Hunter fought desperately to keep himself from breaking. She rubbed her thumb over his cheek. “You’ve had a lot of trouble with sleep, right? Deep sleep could be a little… new to you?"

“Yeah, maybe.” Hunter tried to sound as convincing as possible, but he heard his own voice echo uneasy in his ears. Camila gave him another heart-wrenching smile he was certain he’d never get used to.

"I promise you're okay."

Camila was so good at giving him exactly what he wanted. He really loved that about her. He felt respected and cared for in her house, in her presence.

But it also made him question if she was telling the truth.

He was ashamed of that feeling, but it gnawed on his brain. He knew, logically, that Camila would never do such a thing. She wasn’t the type of person to lie. Not about this. In spite of that, those thoughts wouldn’t go away.

She brushed another long hair strand behind his ear. It had fallen in front of his eyes when he looked down, in an almost dramatically sad way. It was a fine representation of his general state at the moment. He wanted to be happy and relieved and grateful, he really did. He wanted to accept Camila’s explanation and climb back into bed, but the overwhelming sense of dread made him miss the numbness he felt before.

While everyone else was now put at ease, he was the one terrified.

“Hunter, I’d like to give you a hug. Would you…” Camila’s voice trailed off, like she wasn’t sure how to ask the last part. But it was clear enough.

At first his mouth fell slightly open from surprise, but then his lip quivered a little and he pressed them together in an attempt to fight his emotions.

He nodded.

He didn’t trust his voice right now. Camila’s simple offer had felt like yet another gut punch. She opened her arms for him so he hopped off the kitchen island, into her warm embrace. Her arms enveloped him entirely. Her warmth and her scent filled his perception, drowning everything else out, just for a moment.

Hunter couldn’t remember the last time he’s hugged someone taller than him.

If that ever even happened.

His eyes burned with a new kind of pain. A stinging, prickling sensation which he knew meant there were tears forming in his eyes. Titan! Why?! He blinked rapidly to try and deter them. He hoped Camila wouldn’t let go too soon, so he could hide his face against her shoulder.

“You’re okay, hijo.” Camila said again. This time, he believed her.

And he stopped fighting.

He let the tears form and fall. Burying his face in Camila's shoulder, her warmth covered him like a fluffy blanket. He breathed a little staggering. He held his arms tighter around her back, not wanting her to ever let go. At least not for a while.

He suddenly felt extra hands and more weight piling onto him. Slowly moving his face away from the crook of her neck, and blinking the blurriness out of his eyes, he investigated. He saw Vee, Amity and Willow had joined the hug. He checked his assumptions on the other side, finding Gus and Luz.

Yup, they were in the middle of an awkward, but endearing group hug. He unclasped one hand from Camila to slowly ruffle Vee’s hair. He did the same for Gus with his other hand. After which he put his arm around Luz to make the huddle feel more like an actual group hug. The trio had very determined expressions, which was kind of adorable.

Catching Amity’s eye, he tried to show he was thankful and signal he felt guilty about causing trouble. He wasn’t sure if she got all that, but she smiled a lot less strained this time. He even managed a wobbly smile for Willow. Which she instantly returned much brighter.

Flapjack landed on her shoulder, signing a bunch of supportive words. Only then did Hunter notice Emmiline had also found her place on Willow’s shoulder. She squeaked that she hoped he’d feel better soon.

“I’m sorry to worry you all so much.” Hunter sighed.

A cacophony of voices erupted. After ages of excruciating silence, he heard all his friend’s voices like he was used to: completely unintelligible due to them talking over each other. But the overarching message was that it wasn’t his fault.

If nothing else, it was nice to hear.

“Bueno,” Camila leaned back, lovingly putting a hand on his cheek again. She rubbed faces and ruffled hair by the other kids while the group hug disbanded. “I know that it’ll be very difficult right now, but let’s all go back to bed, you need sleep.”

——————

Gus stood like a statue in the middle of the basement. The girls had all lingered when him and Hunter were herded to the stairs by Camila. Gus had been ready to get back to their room and curl up on his couch-bed. But with every step they actually approached the door, he became more reluctant.

How do you move on from a night like this?

The weird feeling settled uncomfortably in his stomach. Luz seemed a little antsy too, swarming around them while Camila bid them goodnight. Vee on the other hand, looked pretty happy. She yawned and bounced over to cling to her mom. Amity seemed content too, but Willow was sporting a more worried expression next to her.

Amity had hooked her arm in Willow’s and the look she gave her screamed ‘I will comfort and support you’. Gus just knew Willow hated that look. He saw in her expression that she really didn’t want to be glued to her in that way. But she didn’t outwardly reject her either.

It was weird seeing them like that after screaming at each other in the basement.

Their friendship had become a lot better since the day of Unity, but it was still rocky at times. Maybe he should talk to Willow about that tomorrow. She still had the tendency to think Amity was treating her like she was weak. But Gus honestly believed she was just trying to be a good friend.

Their minuscule scene was a nice distraction, but it didn’t help Gus’s feelings. He still didn’t know if his anxiety was normal. What made it worse, was Hunter being unreadable as he listened to their caretaker’s good night wishes. His blank expression stayed as Camila sent them off to bed.

And now they were here. Both of them standing in the middle of the room, his friend seemed just as hesitant as Gus felt.

He was absolutely exhausted, but there was a snowball’s chance in the Boiling Sea that he could sleep right now. It was pointless to even try.

He felt horrible.

Uncomfortable and tense and, above all else, filled with regret. His heart squirmed around in his chest. Flashbacks of the incident were already floating to the forefront of his mind. The panic had set in so fast, everything happened so fast.

It was scary.

Hunter must be in the same boat, but a hundred times worse because it all happened to him.

Gus was too tense, too anxious, too riled up to even think about sleeping. A smaller part of him was afraid, scared they would go back to sleep and it happened again. That’s probably what Hunter thought too, and that’s probably why they had been standing like this for what felt like an eternity!

Which had actually barely been a minute.

“I don’t think I can sleep anymore.” Gus said after deciding to just rip the bandaid off. His skin crawled too much in the silence.


“Me neither.” Hunter admitted like Gus expected. He stared at his sleeping bag like it was one of Eda’s magic traps. Flapjack was perched on his shoulder, rubbing his beak against his witch’s face.


“Do you wanna try…?” Gus asked carefully, knowing that they probably should. But hoping he would say no.


“No.” Hunter said in a low voice. Flap chirped and the blonde boy tickled his chest feathers. Then he turned back to his friend and quickly added, “Do you?”

“Not really.” Gus admitted. He also hoped Hunter wouldn’t feel guilty. He had a habit of getting it in his head that everything was his fault.

If anyone should feel guilty it was Gus. He’d started this whole mess. He woke everyone up, scared them, all for some deep sleep and a hard-to-find pulse. Hunter just looked so…

He should’ve known better.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Emmiline squeaked. Gus kind of forgot he was carrying her. She stood up on her back paws, curling her tail around his hands and putting her front paws against his chest.

“All this happened because of me, Emmi.” Gus whispered as imperceptible as he could. He didn’t want his friend to hear.

"No no! Not true!" Emmiline squeaked louder. She glanced at Hunter for a second, before climbing up to his shoulder. She hugged the side of his face. "It was just a big misunderstanding."

Her squeaks were softer this time, probably trying to soothe his racing thoughts. It almost felt like she was telling him a secret this way, mumbling so close to his ears. She continued to shush him and Gus shut his eyes to focus on her words and the scaly-but-gentle paws that rubbed arduously over his temple. Emmiline wasn’t exactly a natural at calming people, but she tried her best and that’s what mattered.

“Yeah…” Gus sighed. “I just feel like I made everything worse. I got so scared so fast. I shouldn’t have assumed…”

He’d opened his eyes again and noticed Hunter kind of drifting away. He landed at the table conquered by sewing supplies. Gus felt his shoulders tense as he worried if Hunter had heard everything after all. But it came as quickly as it went, because that would be impossible. It’s not like grimwalkers had better hearing.

"You had a nightmare." Emmiline whispered. Gus was more focused on Flapjack as he jumped onto the sewing machine. Hunter probably said something because the cardinal chirped happily. His own palisman moved away from his face with one last rub against his cheek. “Hunter would understand!”

Grimwalker.

Hunter raked a hand through his hair. He shot a kind smile his way, but he couldn't hold eye contact. Gus quickly looked away as well.

Maybe it wasn't...

Before Gus could finish that thought, his wandering eyes spotted something that put everything else aside.

A red box with a blue border seemed to scream for his attention. The colourful picture on the front and sudden memories of late game nights culminated in a beautiful idea.

“Oh!” Gus exclaimed, stumbling over his feet as he beelined for the box. He managed to grab it without injury and showed it to Hunter. “We could play a game?”

“Oh,” his friend blurted out after his surprise disappeared. Hunter’s smile for once didn’t look so forced and Gus felt like the room got several tints brighter. “Okay.”

His own smile came easy as he bounced to the specific spot on the floor where they usually played boardgames. Hunter moved to join him, but was stopped in his tracks by Emmiline yawning. Both boys ‘aww’ed at her adorable display.

“Someone’s tired.” Hunter cocked his head to the side, Gus laughed. ‘Exhausted’ was probably a better word, but he didn’t want to ruin the better vibe.

“You should go to sleep Emmi.” Gus said as he put her back in his hands. The chameleon gave him a look, she was sceptical. He giggled and tried to reassure her. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Hunter gestured to the fabric-covered table, Gus knew what he meant and nodded. His buddy knelt down and let Emmiline hop over to his hands. He brought her to the nest that the palisman had made from the fabrics and threads. It was cute and soft and nobody dared to touch it.

Gus started to set up the game, they’ve played it enough to abandon the manual in the box.

“You too Flap, you’re completely drained.” Hunter told the little bird. Flapjack warbled from his perch on the sewing machine, Hunter didn’t translate, but it sounded like a protest. He carefully picked him up anyways, putting him next to Emmi. Flap conceded immediately, chirping softer this time.

“Yeah, we will. Eventually.” Hunter responded. He gently caressed Flap’s feathers on his back. “I promise.”

Gus guessed that was about them going to sleep too. He thought it was fair to try, like Hunter said, eventually.

“I know, love you too” He heard him whisper to the cardinal. Gus couldn’t help the wide smile on his face. He pretended to hear nothing and continued to put the colourful tokens in their assigned squares.

They played for a while.

Neither wanted to make good on their promise to try sleeping. Not yet at least. This made them play worse than normal. They made bad decisions, chose the lower numbers on ambiguous dice rolls, and just generally did the polar opposite of what someone who wanted to win would do.

They also took every opportunity to knock each other’s pieces off, so that it had to start from the beginning. Usually they’d show mercy every so often. This new way of playing was strange, but it was also fun.

It was a good distraction.

Hunter kinda slumped and Gus noticed his eyes were shut. But before he could say something, his friend shot back upright. He focused back on the game like nothing happened, but Gus also noticed his eyes meeting his own for just a second. It was like a look Gus would give his teachers if they caught him zoning out.

"Are you okay?" He asked, knowing full well that he wasn't. He just had no idea what else he could say. It was almost a reflex to ask that question.

"Yeah yeah!" Hunter said in a weird, high pitched voice. He was still really bad at lying. Gus kinda hoped he would never get better at it.

"We can try to sleep if you want?" Gus asked. The distraction stopped working and all the bad stuff was settling back in his stomach. Thoughts raced through his brain at breakneck speeds.

"No. No, I just-" Hunter hung his head, tossing the dice back and forth in his hands. "I don't think I can, even if I wanted to."

Gus looked at his friend, patiently waiting for him to fill the silence. To expand further on his feelings. He wanted so desperately to just blurt out that he knew. He wanted to tell him everything was okay. Grimwalker? So what!

But he wanted Hunter to come to him. To tell him out of his own volition. He wanted to give him the privacy he deserved, the freedom he longed for.

He wanted to be patient.

Gus liked to think he was making slow progress in his personal mission of ‘making Hunter more comfortable’. He believed that in due time, he would open up more.

And he did! He told stories about coven missions and his secret wild magic studies, but never anything serious. Not from a lack of negative experiences, Gus was sure. Hunter just didn’t want to talk about it yet.

So for now, he'd stick with the slow progress. Playing games late at night in the basement, sharing a love for books, learning about the human realm together. He'd show, not tell. He was a freaking illusion witch after all!

That's what he set out to do, but if Hunter would just tell him...

Bonding was nice and all — if someone had told him months ago that he would care this much about a scruffy teen, Gus would call them crazy — but this night was already so different. All the same things they were doing felt so much heavier. Maybe this could be the perfect place to start?

His brain was like a metronome, swinging between wanting to talk or not. Gus had to admit that his eyes held a certain expectation when he looked at his friend in that moment.

But Hunter stayed silent.

That tactic rarely worked on him, because he's used it so many times himself. He had used it on Luz so many times now, they lost count!

It was a simple truth they both knew: people love filling awkward silences, and then they’d just blurt out their secrets. The trick still worked on Gus, knowing what the other person was doing didn't seem to help at all. Hunter though, he was some kind of expert.

So deafening silence it was.

As they played their game. Gus rolled the dice, getting a five and a three. Instead of using the high roll to bring his furthest piece into the finish, he used it for his newest piece on the board. And he used the three to knock off one of Hunter’s pieces. His friend shot him a fake pout and Gus smirked.

The silence was broken by the door to the basement swinging open. Both of them turned their heads, seeing Luz walk down. She was struggling to drag the covers of her bed down the steps. Neither of the boys really reacted, maybe they were shocked. Or maybe they weren’t surprised at all and were just patiently waiting for her to descend.

Gus felt like his second guess was more accurate.

"I'm sleeping here tonight!" Luz proclaimed cheerfully when she finally reached the floor. She had a very big, toothy smile, but her eyes weren’t laughing. She was very obviously trying her best to stay positive when she was actually very tired.

“Okay.” Gus and Hunter said in unison. Luz nodded with vindication, like she was saying ‘yeah that’s what I thought’. Was she worried she’d have to convince them? If Gus wasn’t running on empty he’d welcome her with literal open arms.

She was probably also in that same boat, waterlogged by discomfort.

“Can’t sleep either?” Hunter asked as she shuffled to his bed and dumped her stuff next to it.

“Yeah...” Luz said, looking away awkwardly and shrugging in an exaggerated way. Yup, she definitely felt the same. Gus could appreciate her attempts to stay bubbly and cheerful.

“Sorry about that.” Hunter said quietly, looking at his hands as he fidgeted with the cuffs of his sweater.

“It’s not your fault." Luz told him, beating Gus to the punch. They exchanges looks that Gus couldn’t really read. Luz joined their spot on the ground. "I just wanted to check on you.”

Gus swore those looks between them meant more than the words they said. His exhausted mind couldn’t stop the tiny pang of jealousy that ran through it. But it was only good for Hunter that he was so close with Luz.

Wait.

Could those looks mean she knows? Did Hunter tell her about being a grimwalker?

This time a stronger wave of jealousy washed through his intestines. If Hunter told Luz, why didn’t he tell him? They were best friends.

Gus forcefully stopped his train of thought, shaking his head in what he hoped looked like a ‘trying to stay awake’ way. If all of that was true, he was happy for Hunter. He deserved to have someone like Luz looking out for him. And nobody said he couldn’t have two.

“You wanna play too?” Gus asked Luz, trying to hide the mental gymnastics his brain had just done. He pointed at the colourful board that laid forgotten on the floor.

“Ludo? I haven't seen that game in ages. Sure, I’ll play.”

She continued to wipe the floor with them. But only because Hunter and Gus weren’t trying before. Now it was on!

The trio slowly became more at ease and actually started to have some fun with the game. When Luz won for the second time and celebrated her victory with arms outstretched to the sky, a big yawn interrupted her cheer. Gus laughed at the sight, but then he also yawned, in the middle of his laugh. He tried to fight it but, of course, he couldn’t. Hunter look at them fondly.

“Maybe we should go to bed now?” He asked with a smirk, hanging backwards and folding his arms. Gus suspected that his ‘we’ didn’t actually included himself.

“No way!” Luz objected, Hunter immediately shushing her. Gus didn’t think she was loud enough to wake anyone up, but would never say it. He was kind of happy to see his friend fall back into his normal habits. Luz stuck her tongue out at her brother. “I gotta make it a perfect run with three wins.”

“Absolutely not!” Gus protested, revelling in the shushing he got as well. He was already setting up the board and smacked Luz’s pieces off. She gasped in offence. “I’m not letting you. I wanna win at least once.”

“Alright, it’s settled then.” Luz put her pieces back on the board, in the staring square. “One more round.”

Hunter scoffed, trying hard not to smile. He rolled his eyes, but set up his own pieces too.

Halfway through their third match, they heard the basement door swing open again. Willow and Amity leaned over the railing, smiling as they greeted the trio. Gus and Luz waved happily.

Gus was surprised to see Hunter’s face not light up at the sight of her.

Willow flew down the stairs, dragging her comforter behind her like a cape. She had her pillow under her arm like a grudgby ball. Once she touched down and threw her things onto the couch, she sat down between Gus and Hunter.

She put one arm over each of their shoulders and hugged them close together. Hunter yelped as Willow basically held them in a head lock. Gus couldn’t help the giggles that escaped his mouth. It was exactly the same as the time he was wrestling Hunter and she crashed their match, except this time she released them much faster.

Amity came down a lot calmer. She had her blankets neatly folded, setting them down carefully on the arm rest of the couch. Then, she turned to Luz as fast as possible. Her girlfriend was already waiting for her and they embraced.

Gus didn’t feel the need to witness their pda. They were cute, but he didn’t want to see them get all smoochy. He did still hear Amity’s exasperated sigh, indicating how her and Willow felt under that positive exterior. It was so obvious nobody even pointed it out this time, of course they couldn’t sleep.

They too were in that same boat. If anymore people climbed in it might sink from the weight.

“So… sleepover?” Luz asked sarcastically. She shook out her comforter, arranging it neatly next to Hunter’s sleeping bag on the ground.

“Yeah, I guess that’s what’s happening here.” Willow chuckled. Her hand had lingered on Hunter’s shoulder, and Gus couldn’t wait to tease her about it tomorrow, she gave him another warm smile and stood up. Picking up the stuff she had thrown so haphazardly just a second ago.

Gus was again surprised by his friend’s reaction. Hunter was supposed to be an open book, but he couldn’t read that expression. He wasn’t embarrassed or flustered, he didn’t look sad that Willow was leaving, he didn’t even seem happy that she had been so close.

He could almost see it, what his reaction would normally be. The boy would be blushing and smiling, he’d be mesmerised by her. Was it weird that Gus was this involved with their crush hell? Nah.

He was just a very nearby best friend.

Very nearby, like all the time. Probably because they lived in the same house right now.

The girls were chatting as they set up shop, building what Gus could only describe as a pile. A cozy pile though.

“I’m joining,” Gus said as he pulled his covers from the couch, dropping it on the nest that had engulfed Hunter’s flimsy mattress.

“You’d rather sleep with us on the ground than on your own soft, elevated couch?” Amity deadpanned.

“Yup!” Gus matched her sass and pointedly dropped his pillow as well.

“Awww Gustifer~” Luz draped herself over his shoulders and gave him a noogie. Gus cringed from the weird feeling of her knuckles rubbing over his scalp. He laughed, thrashing until he escaped her.

Willow and Amity burst out laughing at the state of his hair. The plant witch reached out with an unsteady head to try and fix it. Gus swatted it away, much rather doing it himself. He tried and failed to stay mad, rolling his eyes with a sigh.

The girls finally calmed down. Luz’s joke about it turning into a sleepover felt more and more accurate.

“I like how humans can have a moonlight conjuring more than once a year.” He said while fixing the position of his blanket. “And without moonlight.”

“Well, we’re not conjuring anything.” Amity pointed out with a smirk.

“Not yet~” Willow joked in a singsong voice.

Gus looked back at Hunter, expecting a smile at least. But he was still just sitting there, staring off into the distance. He didn’t like not knowing what Hunter was thinking.

“We should move the couch.” Willow said, interrupting his worries. She was arranging all the pillows on one side of the pile. “I don’t think everyone will fit otherwise.”

“Yeah good idea!” Gus said, a bit louder than he intended. He hoped that Hunter would feel better once their weird little fort was done and they could get some sleep.

He must’ve noticed him staring, because Hunter seemed to zone back in from wherever he was and started cleaning the game. After putting it away, he kind of wandered around the room. Like he was suddenly very interested in Camila’s old stuff.

The pile was done, and it was big. But without any mattresses to speak of, it didn’t look that inviting yet.

“I think we need more blankets.” Gus pondered out loud, hand on chin.

“We can gather some stuff from the living room.” Luz offered.

“I’ve got blankets!” Vee announced as she thundered down the stairs. Carrying a stack in her arms higher than her head. She held them up once she reached the bottom, like she was presenting them, beaming a smile at her friends.

They all laughed and greeted her.

“Did we all have the same idea or something?” Gus asked, watching her drop the fluffy blankets on the floor and rush towards Hunter. Vee hugged him tightly and he wrapped his arms around her back.

Gus saw her smile fade just for a moment as she buried her face in her brother’s chest. But when she bounced away, it was back in full force. Gus watched her inspect their pile with great interest. When he turned around again he saw in Hunter’s eyes what he hoped so fervently wouldn’t be, guilt.

His heart sank and he felt a lump in his throat. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say.

“Sort of.” Willow answered his question, looking towards Vee confused. “None of us could sleep, but…”

“Vee said she wasn’t joining.” Amity finished her sentence. She and Luz had picked up the new blankets and were organising them in the nest. None of them seemed to have noticed what he saw.

“I thought I couldn’t fall asleep because of those two.” Vee pointed accusingly between the other girls.

“Yeah, she just kept tossing and turning,” Amity pointed her thumb at Willow. “More than usual I mean.”

The plant witch stuck her tongue out at her friend. A myriad of knowing laughs filled the room.

“It’s not like you were much better.” Vee said in Willow’s defence. “You kept sighing the whole time!”

She demonstrated with a mockingly dramatic sigh. Willow joined in and they started alternating like a broken record. Amity rolled her eyes.

“Should we go to the basement too?~” Vee imitated their pink-haired engineer with an overly soft voice.

“Do you think Luz is coming back?~” Willow imitated her with another dramatic sigh.

“Awww batata!” Luz hugged her girlfriend and planted a kiss on her cheek.

Amity pouted as her face turned red. The other two girls cackled, high-fiving each other for the great performance.

“So I kicked em both out.” Vee continued with the story. “Thought we’d all sleep better if they just joined downstairs like Amity kept moaning about.”

“Willow suggested it too!” Amity fired back.

“But when they were gone, I still couldn’t sleep” Vee ignored the interruption. “So I thought ‘ah heck, why not?’ and grabbed as many blankets as I could find.”

Gus laughed at her story. But by the way she had hugged Hunter when she came down, he knew she felt more strongly about it than she let on. Vee probably felt the same way he felt, the same way they all felt. At least they weren’t alone, right?

That has been their saving grace this entire time; they had each other.

Willow yawned and flopped down onto the pile now covered in layers of blankets. She sprawled out her limbs in an exaggerated way. Gus knew, ironically, that’s how she usually ended up sleeping anyways.

“Leave some room for the rest of us!” Amity jumped down beside her and pushed her playfully.

Gus let himself fall onto them, getting pushed and poked until he rolled to Willow’s other side. Luz claimed a spot next to her girlfriend and Vee curled up next to her sister, shifting to her Basilisk form.

As if they had practised it, they turned their attention to Hunter in unison. Gus was really worried that he would misunderstand. They weren’t here because of him, they were here for him.

Hunter looked really out of it, staring blankly with half-closed eyes. He didn’t even get flustered about Willow basically sleeping in his bed. And Gus really wanted to see that, it would’ve been so funny. Instead, his friend just seemed confused.

“Get in here dude!” Gus exclaimed, getting four different ‘yeah’s as support from beside him. The anxiety that had stuck to the back of his mind acted up, jittery and tense. What if this didn’t work? What if he didn’t like the idea of this nest-thing?

To his relieve, Hunter’s confused expression fell into a smile. His eyes closed and something like an amused scoff escaped his mouth.

He walked over and slowly laid down on his back next to Gus. He let out a long, strained sigh as his body seemed to relax. Amity turned off the lights with a spell circle, sinking the room in near darkness, only the faint glow of the fairy lights remained. Sandwiched between his two best friends, Gus shut his eyes, feeling the anxiety finally leaving his mind for good.

Hunter laid in the darkness and silence. His eyes had long since adjusted to the shadows and the faint glow above him. He could see every detail of the ceiling and it was the only thing he could focus on. Folding his hands over his belly, he tried not to disturb Gus. Who had been sleeping soundly next to him for a while now.

All of them were asleep already, but he couldn’t.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to before even laying down. He was past tired. Past fatigue. Past exhausted. He didn’t feel empty either, just bad. Really really bad.

He sat up, not sure if the uncomfortable feeling in his back was from the blankets or his thoughts. He looked at them. Gus, Willow, Amity, Luz and Vee. Titan, they were all so important to him and he treated them like this.

The least he could do was ensure he wouldn’t wake them up, again. He wanted to toss and turn, worm around until this stupid night finally turned to day. So he crawled away, to preserve their sleep. Not too far away, he faced them sitting with crossed legs.

He summoned Flapjack’s staff form.

If he were awake, the cardinal would have protested egregiously. He would've flapped his wings hard and demanded his witch go to sleep. He would have pecked him on the head and given him some mystic advice or a lecture. He would've chirped up a storm until Hunter resigned to avoid waking everyone else. Again.

But no palisman could ignore this command, especially one as genuine and desperate as Hunter's was in that moment.

He was so grateful for his friends and so happy to be surrounded by them. He had to keep this. He had to protect this. Clutching the wooden staff closer to his chest, he understood what he had to do. He hated it, but he didn’t care. It’s the one thing he’s good at.

He could keep them safe. He could do what he was trained for, was made for. He could guard them.

[ateriblewriter]

Fic about drunk karaoke with Trevor singing Paper Rings by Taylor Swift?

a/n: okay so it's more of a blurb, than a blurb. i hope that's okay. so sorry this is extremely late! also i don't think i really portrayed z as drunk but yeah. its still decent i think.

ENJOY!

Everyone was in town for one last hurrah before their various training camps started up. For the last the night the idea of going to a karaoke bar was brought up. You loved the idea and even offered to find the bar.

"Trev we have to do a duet!" You urged when the group was signing up for songs. "We could do Don't Go Breaking My Heart or The Time of My Life or Islands-"

"Can we do our own songs?" He piped up. He had a certain song that he wanted to sing for her and a duet was not it.

"Or we could do that too." Trevor noticed your face fall slightly. He did fell kind of bad for that but he could make it up to you.

Sensing his friend's need for help, Cole offered to sing a song of your choice with you. He turned to Trevor and mouthed You owe me one.

The real fun began once everyone had entered in their song choices. Most boys chose some country song or hit classic rock song. Some people where better singers than others, but who really cared how well one could sing when you were having fun.

After Luke had finished with his rendition of Black, it was finally Trevor's turn. By the time his song was up much of the group had already had a few too many drinks and weren't really paying attention to the intro of the song. In fact it wasn't until you heard your name being mentioned over the sound system that you realized he was up.

"This. This is for my Y/N. Love you baby girl." Trevor giggled pointing in your general direction as an instrumental version of a popular Taylor Swift song played.

"The moon is high, like your friends were the nigh that we first met ..."

"Oh no." You mumble, eyes going wide. Paper Rings was not his normal karaoke song, that was Wildest Dreams. What was your hockey player boyfriend up to?

You could feel everyone's eyes on you while Trevor was up on stage singing and doing a little dance, giving everyone a performance they weren't going to forget anytime soon. It was almost as if this had all been planned in advance or something.

"Jack, what's he doing? He changed his song."

"I don't know. He never told me anything." Jack lied. He knew exactly what Trevor was doing, they all did, you could tell by the goofy smiles the boys were giving you. "Just thinking about it and watch!"

So you did, you sat with your friends, sipping on your fruity little cocktail and enjoying the moment.

"Darling, you're the one I want, In paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams ..."

It was a stupid idea and he knew it. That's how Trevor knew that you would love it. A couple of days ago when he was brainstorming with the boys on how to propose, it was suggested that he should do it at karaoke.

That's why he was on currently on stage, singing one of your favorite Taylor Swift song. Everything appeared to going as planned, he wasn't messing up the song and you were bopping your head along to the song. The only snag was he may or may not have a few too many drinks and was a bit drunker in the moment than he would have liked to be.

Trevor's big moment was coming up. There was a small break in the music and he called you to join him on the stage. It took you a hot second to make the trek up there.

"I know you like shiny things, but would you marry me with a paper ring?" He nervously asked you, reaching into his back to grab the literal paper ring he had to give you.

"I squished it. I'm sorry, it's not supposed to look like this." Trevor pouted looking at the smooshed ring.

"Trevor?"

"Hmm?"

"Yes." Trevor slipped the ring on your finger, it really didn't fit, but he could replace with the actual diamond ring he had sitting at home. You pulled him in for a kiss, a loud cheer erupted from section where the rest of your group was sitting.

"Now does anyone know where I marry someone tonight?"

[honeysuckleharringtons]

"Black Cats Need Candy Too" ~ E. Munson

Summary: In which You and Eddie are greeted by one last surprise trick-or-treater at the end of the night.

Pairing: Musician!Eddie Munson x GN!Reader (Reader does dress as Lydia Deetz for Halloween)

Word Count: 655

Content Warning: literally nothing that i can think of, she's nothing but pure fluff

Extra Notes: though she be short, she still be very cute and i'm lowkey in love with this fic

Originally Written: 10/26/2023

honeysuckleharringtons main masterlist can be found here!

halloweek masterlist can be found here!

You did a big stretch, standing from your spot on the couch. Your once pristine red dress was now wrinkly from a night of running back and forth to give out candy to all the passing trick-or-treaters.

"You think there will be any more?" you asked as you reached Eddie, arms wrapping around his middle. Your head rested against his shoulder, taking in the scent of his cologne.

He turned around and faced you, giving you a small peck on the forehead. "You head on to bed. I'll be up in a few minutes, yeah?" he spoke softly.

Your lips met for a small kiss before you stepped away in the direction of the bedroom. "Good night, Beetlejuice."

Eddie chuckled, flashing a tired smile in your direction. "G'night, Lyd-"

A faint scratching noise sounded against the door, effectively interrupting his words. Your brows furrowed as it sounded a second time, Eddie shrugging his shoulders in confusion as he opened the door to assess the noise.

The gentle mews of a black cat chimed through the door as it ran inside your home, immediately running over to meet you. Soft fur rubbed against your legs as it purred, your heart swelling at the sight. "Nice costume," you giggled, bending down to pet the cat.

"I suppose black cats need candy too this Halloween," Eddie chuckled, walking over to you.

You picked up the cat and held it close to your chest, scratching under its chin and gaining you a content purr. A dream of yours had always been to own a cat, but you'd never had the space for one or the time you needed to nurture it properly. Now that Eddie's music career had started to take off, you had a bigger house and more time on your hands. You reckoned this might have been a sign, and your heart swooned at the thought of keeping the little guy.

However, before you could think too much on the idea, you noticed its collar, subsequently shutting down your dream of keeping the cat. "He has a collar," you said, trying to say it as a fact. Still, the words came out clearly saddened, your previous smile quickly turning into a frown.

Eddie must've noticed your sadness, taking the cat from your arms. "I'm sorry, honey. Why don't you head up to bed? I'll call the owner and drop him off. He couldn't have gone too far from home."

Your lips met his for a small kiss, his touch bringing you the smallest sense of comfort in your melancholy. "Good night, honey," you smiled at Eddie. Your finger reached for the cat's chin once again, giving it one last scratch. "Good night to you too. Even if I can't keep you."

You were barely halfway down the hall before Eddie was calling your name. Confusion took over as you promptly turned around and headed back to the living room where he stood with the cat still in his arms.

"Baby, listen to this. 'My name is Ghost. I am not lost, but I am in need of a home,'" he read off the cat's collar tag. "Maybe you can keep him after all."

He swore your eyes went heart-shaped as you ran back over, taking the bundle of black from his arms and holding him close to your chest. "Are you serious? Can I keep him?"

Eddie met you with a gentle smile, leaving a soft peck on your forehead once again. "I think it would do you some good to have a buddy when I'm not here. Someone to keep you company while I'm at the studio."

An excited smile flashed across your lips as you leaned up, giving the man a grateful kiss. "Thank you. You're seriously the love of my life."

He snickered, giving you one last kiss. "Good to know. Now come on, let's get you and our little trick-or-treater up to bed."

Happy Halloweek Finale, my loves! 🥹

As previously stated, I totally meant to have this up sooner, but life kicked my butt the past few days and it took me so long to get a chance to edit these last few fics for you guys.

I really hope you guys have enjoyed this week as much as I did! I had so much fun writing all these fics for y'all and getting to celebrate the holiday with you guys. If all goes according to plan, I'm hoping to do something similar to this near Christmas as well so stay tuned for that!

I hope you all had a very happy Halloween and a wonderful Halloweek! Thank you all so much for the love on these fics 🥰

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @ducky-died-inside @awkotaco24 @princesseddie @aftermidnightwriting @manuosorioh @hereiamhereigo @esoltis280

[clementine-writes-things]

I'm so glad the IT fandom is back! Yes! I would love to see some Reddie fics!!!

Maybe Richie confesses his love to Eddie?

Your wish has been granted, anon! ALAKAZAM! (sorry if this sucks I haven't written in what feels like eons)

Fuck Them - R.T+E.K

♡Summary: In a moment of panic, Richie confesses his love to Eddie.

♡CW: Explicit language, blood, homophobia, brief mentions of religion, fluff, and angst if you squint.

♡WC: 5.5K

♡Song: I Won't Hurt You - The West Coast Pop Experimental Band

(pls listen to the song it's literally Richie talking to Eddie)

Nothing could have prepared Richie for what happened that night in the Niebolt house. To be fair, no one in the Loser’s Club was prepared to even step foot in the rickety building. Everyone knew what was awaiting them at the bottom of the well. The thing they had been fearing for the majority of their Summer. The thing that had been tormenting them.

It was down there.

The thing that took Bill’s brother. The thing that brought back Mike’s past. The thing that played off of Eddie’s phobias. The thing that delighted in Beverley’s abuse. The thing that lingered in Ben’s studying. The thing that roamed around Stanley’s synagogue. The thing that knew Richie’s deepest, darkest, most hidden secret.

That was what was down that damp well.

Going down there, even though they were all around 19 and 20, made them feel like little children. Children who were scared of the dark, afraid of what was hiding in the shadows, and afraid of the monster under their bed. It struck a chord deep in their souls, igniting that fight or flight instinct. At first, Bill was the only one who wanted to go. But, just like the tight knit group they are, they all went in. No Loser walks alone.

After going through the funhouse that Pennywise created for them, they finally reached the well. They traversed through the dark sewers, banding together in the grey water to fight against the ancient monster. And, remarkably, they did it. Together, they all beat that horrendous clown, putting an end to its reign of terror on the children of Derry. But it came with a cost. A terrifying and heart stopping cost.

He had gotten hurt. Badly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, we’ve gotta get him back to the surface, guys, come on!” Richie shouted, holding his bleeding friend in his arms.

Everyone rushed to Eddie, helping him up and hurriedly carrying him towards the exit. Frantic footsteps fumbled around in the murky water. It splashed up, covering Eddie’s shorts, as well as the rest of the friends’ legs. The stench was almost too much to handle, especially mixed with the iron aroma of blood. Pennywise had thrown Eddie against a rock, causing his chest to gain a laceration from the sharp jagged edges. He was lucky that it hadn’t penetrated any vital organs, but still, the bleeding was enough to cause alarm. It certainly caused Richie to spiral into panic, breathing heavily, thinking that he might need a puff from Eddie’s inhaler.

“C-Can you guys movie any faster?! Shit! Shit! Shit!” Eddie cried out.

“WE’RE TRYING!”

Beverly, Stanley, and Bill removed Eddie’s fanny pack. Together, they rummaged through the contents, knowing that he would be carrying enough supplies to support an entire hospital. Meanwhile, Ben and Mike were trying to keep Eddie calm as they got things sorted out. And, Richie, who couldn’t bear to see Eddie in pain, removed his button up shirt and pressed it firmly against his chest to stop the blood. It elicited a wince of agony from him.

“Eddie, Eds, you’re gonna be ok! We’ve got you, buddy! I’ve got you!”

Tears formed in Richie’s bug eyes. Not even a second later, those drops trickled down his cheeks, falling onto the bloodstained yellow shirt of his friend. The grip he had on the collar of it was strong, worried that if he let go, he’d lose Eddie forever. If he let go of Eddie, he’d drown in a pool of his own blood and leave him forever. If Eddie died, he’d lose the love of his life. Hell, he hadn’t even admitted it to him yet. None of his friends knew about his sexuality, let alone his crush on Eddie. That was his dark secret. Though to be fair, his friends, including Eddie, have probably caught on by now.

Down in the sewers, when they were battling the horrible creature, it transformed into everyone’s fears. For Beverly, it was her father. For Mike, his dead parents. Etc, etc. And as for Richie, well his fear is clowns. But lately, because of his hidden love for Eddie, his new fear was being outed. It was hard enough being gay in the 80’s, but to be exposed without any input? That was truly terrifying. He was scared about how his friends would react, how they would treat him, and how Eddie would feel about him. And that was what It used against him. In the sewers, it transformed into Eddie, saying that he knew about Richie’s feelings, and that he hated him for it.

“I could never love a trashmouth like you!”

“I know your secret, Richie!”

“You shouldn’t think about friends like that! Pervert!”

Everyone saw. Whether they picked up on the meaning of it or not, Richie wasn’t sure. But it was obvious. The idea of Eddie knowing made him sick to his stomach. It embarrassed him and put him on edge, worried about how he would feel. But then again, the idea of Eddie not knowing scared him as well. Especially in a moment like this. Eddie could die without knowing the truth. That would live with Richie forever. Haunt him. He couldn’t bear that. So, in a moment of vulnerability, he let it slip. While the other members of their group were patching him up, comforting him through the pain, Richie spilled his guts. It was unlikely that Eddie would die, but Richie’s fear was through the roof. He was overwhelmed with emotions. It weakened his defense.

“Eddie…”

He grabbed his hand, thumb brushing over Eddie’s knuckles. It was a tender moment amidst the chaos. Blood on everyone’s hands, tears in eyes, and heavy breathing filling up the decrepit living room of the abandoned house. At the touch, Eddie’s glazed eyes flickered down to his hand. Richie’s hand was rough, but not in a working man kind of way, but a living life kind of way. His hands were rough and worn from riding his bike everywhere, the grips creating blisters on his palms, and from woodworking—his new hobby.

“Y-You’re my best friend and…and I need you here. I…I love you…”

Eddie’s eyes were wide, despite his heavy lids from exhaustion. He heard Richie loud and clear—so did everyone else. But still, no one commented on it. His confession, his singing of his heart, it all went unnoticed. Unrecognized. It was as if it was just a whisper in the wind. Now that…that truly terrified Richie. He would rather them comment on it, say something mean or hurtful, than have them ignore it. That hurt him the most.

And that was that.

Eddie hadn’t talked to him since. It had been three weeks, almost four, and he still hadn’t spoken a word to him. Richie had seen the other members, who had finally decided to talk to him about his confession. They were all supportive, their views of their friendship unchanging. It was a relief, that’s for sure, but that still left Eddie. His Eddie. Well, not his, but he wanted him to be his. The crush he had on him has been lingering around since they were 12. Eight years of a hidden love, battling sexuality, and feeling ashamed of who he was. It was nice to know his friends supported him and loved him regardless. But still…

Eddie.

He was on Richie’s mind every single day since the battle at Neibolt. When he woke up, he thought of Eddie. When he ate meals, he thought of Eddie. When he went to bed, he thought of Eddie. He was the first and last thing he thought about in a day. At his job, during his drive home, when he went to the library, when he went to the gym, and when he was whittling wood. Every. Moment. Was…

A knock.

There was a knock at his front door. It wasn’t his parents, because both of them were at work, he knew that. It kind of bothered him that he was 20 and still living with his parents, but he was working to get enough money to get a place of his own. It would just take time, that’s all.

He walked towards the door.

Plus, he was procrastinating on getting his own place. It was true, he wanted to live on his own, but he wanted to stay near his friends. Yes, he’d most likely look for a place in Derry, or at least a neighboring town, but it still meant he’d move just a little bit further away from…

“Eddie?”

Richie’s eyes widened, adjusting his glasses to make sure he wasn’t just seeing things. Sometimes he’d see Eddie out of the corner of his eye, mocking him for his love. It was all in his head, of course, except for the times it was Pennywise tormenting him. He didn’t have to worry about that anymore. It was gone. Pennywise was gone from Derry, killed by the seven of them. But he still felt tormented. Ever since his confession towards Eddie, he had this festering idea that he hated him now. Richie was convinced that he ruined their friendship. But now, he was here on his front doorstep.

The last time he saw him, he was covered in blood. Tears were streaming down his face, his cheeks red, and eyes puffy. It pained Richie to see him hurt and crying. Of course, Richie had seen Eddie cry before, but not like that. It reminded him of when he broke his arm. He hated that day. He wanted to sign his cast, put big hearts around it, and tell him he was sorry. He wanted to give him a big hug, take care of him, and tell him that everything was going to be alright. But his fear. His fear of being outed, being rejected, losing their friendship—it prevented him. He hated that it prevented him.

“Hey, Rich…”

It felt awkward. He held the door open for him but wasn’t sure what to do after that. Eddie just stood there, wiping his feet on the welcome mat repeatedly. For a moment, Richie could have sworn that he looked…nervous, perhaps as nervous as he was. But he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t sure why Eddie was nervous. One thing he was sure of was that his own heart was racing, beating, practically thumping underneath his ribcage.

“Do you, uh, do you want to come in?” Richie asked.

He nodded.

Richie stepped aside, allowing room for Eddie to walk in his house. Even though he was nervous, he smiled when Eddie took his shoes off. It was classic Eddie fashion. Whenever he went inside someone’s house, he took his shoes off. In his mind, he wouldn’t want someone to track dirt in his house, so he wouldn’t do it in anyone else’s. And, of course, he still had a fanny pack. Honestly, he probably would never stop wearing one. Richie liked that about him though. It was charming in a slightly annoying kind of way.

Eddie followed Richie through the house, not knowing where they were going. It was a weird silence. Awkward and uncomfortable. Neither of them knew what to do about the situation. Richie didn’t know why Eddie was there and, hell, Eddie wasn’t quite sure why he was there either. Well, he knew, but as soon as he saw Richie at the front door, he started to have second thoughts. Was this a smart thing to do? He wasn’t even sure if it was true or not.

“I was, um, I was working on making a birdhouse in the garage.” Richie mumbled, opening the garage door and walking in.

Following right behind him, Eddie closed the door. He knew that Richie had taken up woodwork, but he had never seen him do it before. It was a recent hobby, only having done it for around two months or so. But man, oh man, was he good at it. The man, young adult, what have you, he was stunned at what he saw. It wasn’t like the garage was chock full of wood sculptures, because there were only a handful, but they were beautiful.

“Wow, these are nice. How often do you get splinters?” Eddie chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

Richie shrugged, sitting down at the workbench that he and his dad shared. He picked up a knife, a rather sharp one, and started to shave away at a block of wood. It looked like…pine? Eddie wasn’t very familiar with wood, so he wasn’t sure. Regardless, it looks like a nice piece to start something with. It was almost poetic, really. Now that It was defeated, the Losers could start anew, enjoy the rest of their lives. And now, Richie was creating things, giving these inanimate objects a story. A new life to create new things.

“So, um…it’s been a while.” Eddie sighed.

This little comment elicited a scoff from Richie. He didn’t even bother turning around to look at his friend. Instead, he just continued to whittle the wood in his hand. It was unclear what he was intending to do with it. For now, it was something to take his frustration out on. It was like a stress ball for him.

“That’s one way to say that you ignored me for nearly a month.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed, but then they relaxed, knowing that Richie had every right to be defensive. Truly, he felt awful for avoiding him for this long. It hurt him to be away from him for that long, but he needed time to recover from his injury, and to get his mind together. There were lots of things he needed to think about. But the majority of his thoughts were occupied by Richie Tozier himself. He just couldn’t get him out of his head.

“I-…’’

He cut himself off, not able to find the words. The palms of his hands began to get clammy, and he felt a sweat building up. How he was feeling was beginning to feel like an asthma attack. Of course he wasn’t actually having one, but it certainly felt like it. His chest heaved up and down with his heavy breaths, hand on his fanny pack in case he needed his inhaler. Richie cast a glance in his direction, seeing how...upset he was.

“I just…I needed time to think.” Eddie sputtered.

Raising an eyebrow, Richie turned around in his swivel chair. The piece of partially carved wood hung limp in his hand, the knife on the bench. Shavings littered the concrete floor beneath his feet, blowing ever so slightly from the fan turned on in the corner of the room. It was still Summer in Derry, and for some reason, it was a particularly hot one.

“Think? About what?” He queried.

A shaky breath left Eddie’s lips. Richie knew that because he was eyeing his lips carefully. He knew that Eddie was his friend, and that he shouldn’t be thinking about him romantically, but he couldn’t help it. It was hard to look at him without thoughts of hugging him, kissing him, and holding him close to his chest. It was all he ever wanted.

“I…Richie…are you…they told me you were gay? Is that true?” Eddie questioned, a little cautiously.

He groaned, burying his head in his hands. When Richie told them that, he didn’t expect them to tell Eddie. Sure, he figured Eddie already knew by now, but still. He wasn’t too mad, but he was a little irritated.

“Fuck…yeah. Yeah, it’s true, Ed. What, come here to ridicule me? Are you ashamed to be friends with me?”

Richie’s insecurities, his fears, they all came out in that moment. He regretted ever spilling his guts in that Niebolt house. If he could take it back, he would. Because right now, he felt like a bug. A pathetic bug that was about to be squashed underneath a giant shoe. He felt lower than dirt. His parents always knew, and they did not support him. None of his family did. Sure, the Losers did, but did Eddie?

“W-What? No! I-…that’s…that’s what I’ve been thinking about.”

That caught his attention instantly.

“Me being gay?”

Eddie shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head a bit.

“Well, I guess, yeah? Um…it’s more like…”

His eyes lowered down to Richie’s hands. While he was trying to gather his words, he had picked the knife back up, continuing to carve at the wood. His hand went back and forth, shavings falling to the ground. It was almost hypnotic, the movement of his hands and the subtle muscles he had in his arms. Even though he was skinny, he still had muscles. Eddie had always known, but right now, in this moment, he was very aware of it. The way they moved, flexed, and how the garage light illuminated them. They had caught his attention so much that he forgot what he was even saying in the first place.

Richie noticed this. He glanced up, not thinking much of it, but immediately looked back. Eddie’s eyes were fixated on his hands, then his arms, and then his chest. They were looking directly at his body. Observing his body. Scanning his body. Admiring it. Once Eddie realized Richie had noticed, he licked his lips nervously, moving his eyes to look at anything else.

“I, um, I was thinking about…myself, I guess. I took time to, uh…”

Eddie swallowed thickly as Richie stood up, walking over to him. The closer he got, the more nervous he became. Part of Eddie wanted to run out of the room, or back up into a corner. But he didn’t. He stood still and watched as his friend leaned against the workbench, elbow resting on top of it, wood in his palm.

“What about yourself, Eddie spaghetti?”

God, that stupid nickname. One of many that Richie would call him throughout their childhood. Even now, Eddie being 19—though turning 20 next month—and Richie being 20, he was still being called those nicknames. The other losers would call him nicknames too, but Richie had created most of them. He’d list them all, but it’d probably take too long. Eddie spaghetti was one that he hated growing up. Well, he didn’t hate it…but he pretended to.

It felt like there was a frog in Eddie’s throat, preventing him from speaking any further. Every time he tried to move his mouth, his body would get all warm. Each nerve in his body felt like it was on fire, burning under his skin. He regretted ever coming over to his house. For a split second he considered bolting out of the door and hightailing it outside. But something kept his feet glued to the concrete flooring. Something kept him there. With Richie.

“Well, I thought about what you said that day, in the Neibolt house.” Eddie’s eyes darted to the ground, unable to make eye contact.

Richie now stood up, open palm pressed against the workbench. The piece of wood he was working on had now been placed down. With his other free hand, he slid it in the pocket of his cargo shorts, weighing them down a bit. Briefly, Eddie flickered his eyes down to get a quick look, but he returned his gaze to Richie’s eyes just as quickly. The frog in his throat had traveled down to the pit of his stomach, sitting heavy and full. Instead of saying something, Richie simply nodded his head, gesturing to Eddie to continue.

“You love me, Richie?”

Shit. There was no beating around the bush anymore. It was a statement concealed as a question. Of course, Eddie knew, everyone knew, but he wanted to get it straight from the horse’s mouth. He needed to hear it come from his friend with no extra factors. No rotting building, no terrifying clown, and no one else around. It was just the two of them. Just them. Yet, somehow, it was still terrifying. Just, not in a “life or death” way.

“I…” Richie trailed off, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“…yeah. I do. I have since we were 12.”

It felt so good to finally get that off his chest. Not just a spur of the moment babble that was ignored, but an actual confession in private. Years, upon years, upon years of holding it in…all let out. He wanted to say more, lots more, but he didn’t want to make things worse than they already were. He just couldn’t.

Eddie nodded, rubbing his own arm up and down. It was something he did when he got anxious or nervous. But another one of his tics that was very noticeable was his constant lack of eye contact. In stressful situations, or when he was uncomfortable, Eddie would look absolutely anywhere other than the person he was talking to. And right now, he just kept looking at Richie’s feet. Plain white socks that ended just a bit above his ankles. It had a red and blue stripe as well. In that moment, every single detail of Richie’s pair of socks was vital, important information that he needed to know.

“A-Alright…”

What? That’s all he had to say in response?

“The hell do you mean ‘Alright’?” Richie huffed, eyes glaring behind his glasses.

“It’s just…well…h-how do you know? How do you know you love me as…as more than a friend?”

He needed to take a seat after that question. There were so many things to say regarding it. What should he share? What should he keep to himself? Questions spiraled in his mind, like a huge swarm of wasps, stinging his skill with a dull buzzing pain. Part of him felt like this was an elaborate prank—to ridicule him. But he knew better than that. He knew Eddie better than that. None of the losers, especially Eddie, would ever do something like that to anyone of them. He just needed to be honest. If that’s what Eddie wanted to know, then that’s what he would tell Eddie.

“I just want to know, Richie. Please?”

It took him a moment, but he shook his head.

“I…I know I love you because I think about you all the time. Ever since we became friends. When I’m with you I feel…good. I feel really good, like happy. It sucks when you’re not with me, Eds. I mean, like, I can handle it and I’ll be ok, but it doesn’t feel great. These past few weeks have been torture. I missed you. I missed your stupid fucking shorts that make you look like Richard Simmons. I even missed that fucking fanny pack because I think it’s cute on you! That’s how I know I love you, Eds! I freaked the fuck out when you broke your arm, man! I put it back in place because I wanted to be the one to fix you. And, God, I wanted to sign it so bad, but I was scared! Did you know I carry an extra inhaler on me, just in case you need it? Yeah. I do. I still have that card you got me for my 16th birthday. How do I know I love you? Seriously?!”

Richie was holding back tears and he didn’t even know why. Pouring his heart out like this, having to prove his love, it was overwhelming. And Eddie could see that. He could see the pain in Richie’s eyes, in the movements of his hands, and the tone of his voice. It was heartbreaking to see. Anyone would agree on that.

“Richie…”

He took a deep breath, putting an end to his ranting. His tongue felt like rubber from talking so much. It felt numb, like a big wad of gum inside of his mouth. Hues of pink dusted over his pale and freckled cheeks. God, he was so embarrassed. He wished Pennywise would come back and drag him down to the sewers. That would be better than standing here in front of Eddie, humiliated and defeated.

“I’m not mad at you, Rich. Honest. I just wanted to know how you knew because…I think…I think I do too…”

His head lifted up slowly, glasses on the tip of his nose. With a nervous swallow, he pushed them back up the bridge of his nose. His ears must be clogged. He must be dreaming. He must have died back in the Neibolt house. There must be some explanation as to why this was happening because it definitely wasn’t real. Was it?

“I meant like, being gay. Not loving you. Or, well, I do…I think? I…I don’t know.” Eddie sputtered.

A smile tugged at the corner of Richie’s mouth. He couldn’t help it. The tear that had rolled down his cheek was now partially dry, but he wiped the excess away with the back of his hand anyways. It left a faint outline on his skin. The fear that had been plaguing him for what seems like his entire childhood, was now subsiding slowly. It was evaporating into thin air, rising into the clouds, gone forever. He had hope. That’s all he needed.

“Wh-What do you mean?” He asked.

“Well, I like girls, though I’ve never kissed one, I just know I like them. But…I also have thoughts about guys, too. Like um, that one kid from our P.E class back in 10th grade? I thought he was…cute? And um…well, George Michael from ‘WHAM!’, but everyone finds him hot, right?” Eddie chuckled, trying to ignore the rapid beating of his heart.

Richie nodded, chuckling as well.

“And, uh, well…you, I think? I don’t know if it’s because you’re my best friend or what, but I…I don’t know. After hearing about your, uh, your feelings for me, and everything you just said…I think I feel the same?” Eddie’s voice was barely above a whisper.

The air in the room felt heavy, but that might’ve been because they were in the garage. It also felt hot, but Richie knew that it wasn’t just because it was August. It was because of the scenario. His cheeks were burning hot, no doubt a bright red, just like Eddie’s were. He wanted to lean over and cup them in his hands, brushing his thumbs on his soft skin before kissing him. That’s what Richie wanted more than anything. To kiss Eddie. To hold him. He’d do anything for it. Anything.

“You think? Or know?” Richie questioned.

“That’s what I’m trying to say, Richie. I only think. Well, I know I like guys…but I think I love you. I can’t be sure until…” He trailed off.

“Until what?”

Eddie took a step closer to Richie, only a couple feet of distance between them. At a closer proximity, Richie could see faint streaks of sunscreen on his face, most like because of his mother. Even if it was pouring rain out and very cloudy, Ms. Kaspbrak would make Eddie wear sunscreen all over his body. He practically smelled like it every day, but Richie didn’t mind it. In fact, he rather liked it.

“Richie, I…I want you to kiss me.”

His knees practically gave out, forcing him to press his palm harder into the workbench for stability. A cold sweat washed over his body, and he shivered hard. That was something Eddie had told him many times before in his dreams, but never in real life. This was like a dream come true for him. Richie wasn’t even that intense when it came to religion, but he prayed nearly every night for Eddie to love him like he loved him. He got on his knees, cried in his hands, and begged a higher power to let him be happy. And he could only be happy with Eddie.

“Eds, are you serious?”

“Yes, I am. It’ll help me figure out my feelings. W-Will you?”

Richie nodded, his heart skipping a beat, then another, then another. He felt like he might pass out on the floor right then and there. A few harsh blinks brought him back to reality, shaking his head a little bit like a wet dog. Clearing his throat, he tried to figure out where to put his hands.

“Just, hold on…” Eddie held up a finger, opening his fanny pack.

Doing his best to not let out a laugh, Richie watched as Eddie took a few puffs from his inhaler. At this point, he had figured out that he didn’t really need the inhaler, but it was like a psychological thing at this point. The placebo effect. Or “gazebo” as Richie would constantly remind him. He really would not let that little slip up go. Eddie couldn’t blame him though. It was pretty funny.

“Ok. Um, just a quick one, ok?” Eddie suggested, but it was more like a statement.

In response, Richie nodded and tried to calm his heart down. Even though he had dreamed about this numerous times, he wasn’t sure where to start. He couldn’t just do what he did in his dreams because…well he just couldn’t. So, slowly, he moved his hands up to Eddie’s face but was stopped when Eddie put some hand sanitizer in the palms of Richie’s hands.

“Are you fucki- whatever, I’m not really surprised.” Richie scoffed, rubbing the sanitizer into his skin as Eddie smiled.

Once that was done, and after reassuring Eddie that he had no STD’S and that he had brushed his teeth that morning, he finally cupped Eddie’s face with his hands. Unsure of what to do with his, Eddie just kept his at his side. He watched as Richie drew closer but closed his eyes right away. The second Richie’s lips touched Eddie’s, both of them could have sworn that their bodies were well over 100 degrees. Their skin felt like it was on fire, as if they were standing on the face of the sun.

Just as Eddie was about to kiss back, Richie pulled away, hands still holding Eddie’s face. He could feel the warmth radiating from his cheeks, which caused him to bite back a smile. The smaller friend looked as red as his shorts. A piece of his hair, which was usually combed back nicely, hung in his face. It was a clump of strands that curled upwards slightly. It made Richie’s stomach do backflips.

“So…how was it?” Richie asked softly.

Eddie stood still, almost paralyzed about what happened. His hands were firmly placed at his sides, inhaler poking out of his fanny pack. And, almost immediately, a tear rolled down his slightly tanned cheek. Then another, and another, and another from the other eye, followed by more. Pretty soon, Eddie’s face was littered with teardrops. Richie’s heart sank to his stomach, immediately pulling Eddie into a hug.

“God, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“I love you, Richie.”

It was just a mumble in his shirt at first, but then he pushed Eddie away slightly. Using his thumbs, he wiped the tears of his first love away. Once they were all gone, Richie asked him to repeat himself. He was certain that it was all in his head. God knows how many times Richie imagined Eddie saying those words to him.

“I love you, Richie. I really do. I know because…because I want you to kiss me again.” He sniffled.

“Is that a bad thing…?” Richie asked.

Eddie shook his head, a little smile on his face.

“No, no, I’m just…I’m sorry for avoiding you. I love being with you too, Rich. I was just…scared, I guess.”

Another tear threatened to leave Eddie’s blue-grey eyes. Not wanting that to happen, Richie pressed his lips against them, giving them each a separate kiss. It caused Eddie to giggle, swatting him away playfully.

“It’s ok. I know how scary this can be. But I’ve got you, ok? I promise.”

“What do you mean? Like…like you want to…?” Eddie’s eyes were wide and curious.

“Well, I’d like to be together. But only if you want to.”

With no hesitation, Eddie nodded his head vigorously. In that moment, everything felt right with the world. Richie was no longer worried about being rejected, being alone, or never finding love. He had it right here. He was right in front of him. With his lanky, yet muscular, arms, he wrapped his lover in a hug. It wasn’t too tight, but close enough to be comforting.

“Wow, so, we’re dating now…” Eddie let out an airy laugh.

Richie, who was still holding Eddie close, nodded. He didn’t want to let go of him. He never did. His dreams had finally come true, and he was happy. The happiest he had ever been in a long time.

“Yeah, fucking awesome. But being gay, especially right now in the 80s, it’s no picnic.” His voice, although soft, was cautious.

Eddie pulled away from the hug, giving his boyfriend a smile. He knew that it was the truth. The AIDS epidemic certainly wasn’t helping gay people feel welcome in the country. His mother would have a fit if she found out that he was dating a man, especially Richie Tozier. But it was his life, not hers. And as for everyone else who didn’t like people like him and Richie…

“Fuck them.” Eddie huffed.

Richie raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. He always loved it when Eddie cussed. Maybe that was a weird thing to like, but he didn’t care. Any curse word sounds good coming from Eddie’s mouth. Then again, anything that Eddie said sounded good to Richie.

“Yeah, fuck them.” Richie chuckled.

[kimikaami]

I don’t go to fire emblem so I don’t know much but I read the snippet of your writing you replied to the post about strong queerplatonic relationships with and I thought it was lovely!!

Anyways as per the post asking you about your writing, what would you be most excited to talk about/share about your choices in your most recent piece?

—lea lesbianfakir

Ok 1) sorry it took me so long to answer, I have to be in a certain headspace for asks, esp when I know the answer is gonna be long and 2) sorry most of this probably won't make sense to you, personally 😭 this is a really interesting ask so ty for sending it but a lot of it goes into the Deep Lore

Also my feelings on the last thing I wrote are kind of meh so I'm gonna talk about a lot of some other recent things I've written instead

into the light

This headcanon was literally the reason I wrote the whole fic. For so long, Ive written both Byleth and Seteth as aspec, but I got to thinking about how fanon's idea of nabatean society is still rather human and modern despite their alien-ness, and wanted to do something Different. Seteth actually being rather allo by nabatean standards and ace by human ones is an idea that I love, and I think fits really well with canon. Like. Why are there not half-nabatean characters?? Surely their society wasn't that insulated. Surely humanity wouldn't have killed half humans off so thoroughly.

Here's some bonus conversational bits between Seteth and his daughter and Byleth and her mom that I'm fond of. For Flayn, it's because I relish any opportunity to write her as the adult that she is. For Byleth, it's because it's a conversation I've had with my own mom many times.

Adducent (fic is nsfw, but snippets aren't)

This one just means a lot to me. It was a really cathartic premise to write and I think the second chapter is pretty good. I wish more people read it because I think it's one of my best.

Smut fic is weird bc sometimes its so intensely personal that I really want people to connect with it. But you can't force people to read sexual content that contains stuff that they aren't into, but it's also not usually about the kink, it's about the emotions and self discovery. So it's this constant war in my mind between "please read this and See Me" and "I have to be rational and understand that you can't force that on anyone."

Anyway. Moving on.

Uncharted Waters

I will die on the hill that Flayn would not be purely excited to see her dad get with her teacher. I think, at best, she would be excited at the idea of it at first, but once she actually witnesses them Together a lot of uncomplicated, unprocessed feelings would surface.

I also feel like people tend to forget that she's like. A real adult. She fought in a war. Just because she hasn't had a lot of the modern life experiences that her peers have, doesn't mean she isn't one.

As the Sun Slowly Rises

I just like the banter in this one.

I've about hit the image limit, so I'm gonna reblog with the overtly nsfw ones. Thanks for giving me and excuse to ramble!! I'd been thinking about making a post like this for a while.

[morgana-ren]

Hello! Came here from ao3, I really love your fics and writing style.

I just wanted to ask (and feel free to ignore if you dont want to answer) since you write a lot of dark content, have you ever gotten rude messages from people or pearl clutchers commenting on your fics?

I'd like to write darker fics but I'm lowkey worried about the reception to some ideas. Thats why I really admire authors like yourself who write with a great sense of attitude. Do you have any advice? Were you nervous when you first started posting dark fics?

Ooh! Interesting question! So sorry this turned into something SUPER long, but I actually have been exactly where you are right now!

So, funny story! When I first started writing fics fuckin' years ago, I desperately wanted to get into writing darkfic. Traditional, cutesy fics— while awesome for other folks— just did not do it for me at all. It was actually something I'd known and understood since childhood and always wanted to foray into. I never read vanilla stories, and I had genuine trouble writing them for a lack of passion or interest. It was something I was deeply interested in and had ambitions for.

It was actually Tomura Shigaraki that made me dust off the old keyboard and begin writing again, and that... Was a huge problem.

See, the MHA fandom was NOT as accepting as it is now back when I started writing— and I hesitate to call it accepting even now. Darkfic was heavily demonized and even fairly rare to come across. It was a fucking wasteland of nosy, pathetic busybodies who thought very highly of themselves and their opinions and dubbed themselves the saviors of the Internet and took it upon themselves to be horrific, vicious little cunts without a single modicum of self-awareness or shame. They got their jollies bending over backwards to antagonize authors who did anything they didn't like by ironically showcasing their own staggering ignorance of how the mind works and making it everyone else's problem in real life. They were very loud and pretentious about it, and unfortunately, some of them garnered quite a following of vulnerable, ignorant children who hung on their every word and command and were tricked into thinking these people had a single idea what the hell they were talking about.

Harassing real people over fictional characters. Using pop-psychology terms they didn't understand. Biased claims that had no basis in reality. Siccing followers on authors. Stalking and doxxing— you name it, they did it with malevolent, self-righteous glee. People getting death threats and doxxed was a very real problem that had some talented, lovely authors disappear from the Internet entirely and put people's actual lives in danger. Over words. On the Internet.

Darkfic authors were one of the groups that were harassed relentlessly. It was pretty rare to find someone brave enough to post it on AO3, leave alone Tumblr, and those that did were pretty much guaranteed harassment on one level or another, whether it was death threats or call-out posts day in and day out, or just cruel, mean-spirited anons. The pioneers of darkfic in that shithole of a fandom were braver than any US marine lmao.

Needless to say, I was petrified. The first fic I sat down and wrote for the fandom (Vermilion) was pretty harmless for the most part, although it dipped its toes in dark subject matter if you were particularly squeamish. If I had my way, it was going to be much, much darker. I wanted it to be darker desperately, but I was so terrified of the petulant, pathetic fandom mommies that literally made it their job to harass authors over fictional characters that I ended up policing myself over it.

The tipping point for me was making friends who with the few people who did have the balls to post it. Authors who were unbelievably talented and didn't give a fuck what some fandom-obsessed weirdo with a superiority complex had to say about it. They actually gave me the courage to be true to myself, and even then, holy fuck it was harrowing at first. I was shaking when I posted the first dark thing I ever wrote on here.

There was an outpour of support. People who loved the story and wanted more. Slowly, I totally overcame the fear with the mix of people in the community being kind and supportive, and simultaneously realizing how utterly pathetic and almost sad the puritanical pop-science fandom police were. Even now, I feel bad for them. No one healthy has that level of fascination and hatred with someone they don't know or something they don't understand that is ENTIRELY OPTIONAL to consume. It's genuinely sad and strange and is far more dangerous than reading about dubious topics in a fanfic.

Slowly, more people started to write darkfic and post it in defiance of these weirdos, and now it's fairly common! I can also say that thankfully, a lot of the weirdo, obsessive puritans have disappeared. I'm hoping they grew up and realized how absurd the whole thing was and are deeply ashamed of their past actions. You don't have to like or respect stories with dark topics, but talking out of your ass and making up reasons why the authors are bad people who deserve to be harassed and die is... Hilariously ironic.

Now, all that being said, I actually have never received hatemail. I was shocked. Hell, I still am, because some of my stories are genuinely heinous. I think I got someone's attempt at it once, but they were either drunk or a 3 year old, because it was literally incoherent. (And it was over the fact I hate Bakugo and not the content of my stories lmao Bakugo stans be wildin' sometimes.)

I think the closest thing I've gotten to a mean comment is someone commenting (incorrectly) that my German translation was off, and one that basically equated to "I love this story but anything more would be too extreme for me," which was very polite and not intended to be rude (although I wasn't quite sure what the point of the comment was lmao)

My best advice? Be yourself. Unabashedly and without fear. Write that dark content and post it with a smile. Your audience will find you, and you'll find so much love and support in the community eventually. Your fics are for you, and if others don't like it? They can act like an adult and not read something that upsets or offends them. Mean words suck, but there is nothing more liberating than spitting in the face of someone who tries to smother you and doing it anyway happily.

Most people who pearl-clutch and sling insults have a tenuous grasp on their own logic and are extremely entitled. I've found that more often than not, they're hateful, reactionary youngsters looking for an excuse to feel superior by pretending they have the moral high ground. They talk out of their ass about things they don't understand and all it does is make them look foolish. Like, they are literally factually, scientifically incorrect most of the time. They are the fanfic/literary equivalent of evangelical white moms having a panic over metal music being from the devil and DND turning their kids gay.

Fanfiction is just that: fiction.

Understanding yourself, your kinks and your own mind can also help immensely. You don't care much if some snotty anon calls you a degenerate if you understand why you write what you do and have no shame regarding it. Understanding the impact of fiction vs. reality, kink science, trauma coping, psychology, and other related topics (depending on what you write) can also help if you want to waste time trying to educate them.

Truthfully though? The funniest response to hate is either not responding at all (oh my God they hate that one) or responding with complete and total nonsense a la "your mom suck me good and hard thru my jorts."

These days? I don't worry about it at all. I write what I write and it brings me great catharsis and joy. I've made incredible friends and met talented people. I've improved my own skills and I have a "productive" hobby. Some folks don't like it? Cope and seethe and piss your pants and suck the liquid back out of the fabric and tell your mom my jorts are feeling a bit dry.