#this is the first time I did animation with sound

[misslisamiray]

Fun fact that surprises everyone I tell: I did NOT expect to like Cowboy Bebop. I was just going to watch it once. Y'know, because I'd heard so many good things about it, even if it didn't sound particularly interesting to me. Plus it was on Cartoon Network's brand new Adult Swim block, and how cool was it that CN was showing an anime uncut?*

So yeah, watching Bebop was supposed to be a 1 time thing for little 17 year old me. And I went in expecting to be bored. 😂 And then the first episode I ever saw was Ballad of Fallen Angels, and I. Was. Instantly. Hooked. After that came Heavy Metal Queen ('cause this was way back during the first run on AS, where there were a few episodes skipped), and if my fate wasn't completely sealed with BoFA, it sure was then.

The flipside for me? Probably Demon Slayer, tbh. I've seen a handful of episodes, and by all logic, I should love it. Yet all my brain can manage is, "This is very pretty to look at." and, "Wow, it's really cool AS shows more blood in commercials for this than they used to leave in whole episodes of things." I don't hate or even dislike Demon Slayer; that's just... all my brain has to say about it. It should have more, but doesn't. 😅

*Yes, some of you may be too young to remember, but back in the old days of the early 2000's, anime series on Adult Swim, even with TV 14 ratings & airing at midnight or later, had blood removed/reduced, bathing suits/underwear added to cover nudity, etc. I could go on for several paragraphs about this, but it's irrelevant to this particular post. Soon, though.

it's so wild to me that you absolutely cannot force a hyperfixation to happen. like you'll watch the most perfectly tailor-made-for-you content that everyone says you'll love and feel absolutely nothing, and then the thing you watch on a whim to fill time will reach through the screen and put its damn fingers in your brain and start rearranging the neurons right in front of you and every single time you're like THIS??? THIS??????? and this happens like every 6-12 months forever

[harmonyrae]

Inked

Synopsis: Somehow you won a free session from the most famous tattoo artist in Linkon. You never expected to be sucked into his world, but you’re slowly becoming even more obsessed with him. And with who you are when you’re with him. When you finally discover what he’s involved in, will he push you away or show you a whole new world? 

AN: This fanfic was inspired & entirely fueled by the artwork above, done by the amazing @obligatedart - thank you for letting me use your work as the cover art! Go check them out and see the other tattooed Rafayel pieces they’ve done. I’ve written over 80 pages in a week so... comment if you want to be tagged for part 2!

Content Warnings: explicit language & sexual content, alcohol consumption, public sex, threesome, oral (m&f receiving), creampie, PiV, birth control mentioned (yay protection), mentions of needles (tattoo needles, not medical), genital piercings, vehicle accidents, injuries, blood, 18+ MDNI

Word Count: 16k 

“I still can’t believe you won the fucking contest!”

Tara punches you in the arm and you grunt, swatting at her with a pout. She leans away from you to protect the coffee in her hand before giggling and gently rubbing the spot she hit.

“Sorry, sorry, I just… I spent so much money buying like 50 raffle tickets and you bought ONE and beat all the odds. Did you cast a spell? Are you a witch?!”

Tara’s animated voice draws the attention of the other cafe patrons. You sip your latte silently and try to avoid their judgemental gazes. Tara sets her cup down and crosses her arms. She leans back, squinting at you.

“So it’s tomorrow, right?”

You nod and lean on the table in front of you to pick at your blueberry muffin. Tara snatches the muffin away and you look up at her with wide eyes. She’s definitely irritated with your silence. But what can you possibly say? Sorry? Sorry for winning a once in a lifetime raffle to get a free tattoo by the best tattoo artist in Linkon? Who has a 5 year waitlist? Who has tattooed the biggest celebrities? Who was a judge on the #1 reality show for 3 years running trying to find the next big artist? Who is absolutely, positively, undoubtedly the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life? Fuck no, you are not sorry at all.

“I know you wanted to win so I don’t want to talk about it and make you upset.”

Tara rolls her eyes and plops your muffin back on its plate. You sit back and sigh, looking Tara up and down. She didn’t seem like the type to have a lot of tattoos, but she hid them well. When she wasn’t in her uniform she was showcasing the artwork on her body. The designs were gorgeous and you wished you had been more patient when getting yours. You basically ran to the tattoo shop on your 18th birthday to get a super basic bitch tattoo just because you could. 

“I want to hear about it! I am going to live vicariously through you. Spill bitch.”

You chuckle and finish off your latte before pulling out your phone to show Tara the email chain you started with the artist. She grabs your phone instantly and scrolls through the messages.

“Oh my god, even his emails sound hot.”

You roll your eyes and watch Tara’s eyes light up when she sees the design.

“Holy shit. You are BRAVE! AN underboob tat?! You’re gonna show him your tits the first time you meet him?! Biiiiiitch!”

She squeals before zooming in on the design and ogling at the details.

“This is so pretty! The seashells and the little pearls and chains? Amazing. It will match your chest piece really well too!”

She was right, the seashells and pearls would tie into your mermaid chest piece perfectly. It was the first tattoo you put a lot of effort into, getting the design nailed down and taking your time finding a good artist. You wanted this next piece to compliment it and expand on the original concept. The shells would be a dusty pink to match the tails with the beading and pearls adding a little sparkle. You smiled, your pre-tattoo butterflies swirling. 

“OH! You sent him a picture of your chest piece.”

She slapped your shoulder excitedly.

“In a bikini top! Are you KIDDING ME? Imagine him opening that picture and just getting to stare at your gorgeous tits and that tat? I’m horny just thinking about it.”

You grab her wrist to stop her flailing, your cheeks are burning since her voice is just a little too loud. She glares at you, her sly smile absolutely beaming. 

“Jesus Tara, shh! It’s not a big deal, I’ve wanted this piece expanded for a long time and Rafayel’s specialty is literally anything ocean related. He’s going to touch up the girls too.”

She raises her brows and drops her eyes to your chest and you quickly realize your mistake.

“The mermaids, you horny bitch, the mermaids.”

She nods slowly.

“Uh huh… sure!”

You don’t argue with her, let her think what she wants. You were already anxious thinking about the appointment. She was right about one thing, you were basically showing him your tits the same day you officially met. It’s like “Hi, nice to meet you, here’s my tits” - nice.

When you get home that night you spend extra time prepping your skin and finding the right outfit. Sure you’d be taking off your top and just wearing pasties, but making sure you felt your best beyond that was important too. You drink your sleepy time tea, since the pre-tattoo butterflies had turned to pre-tattoo anxiety.

You slip on your nightgown and settle back, trying to force yourself to relax. About 30 minutes later, you’re on your phone. You just couldn’t help it, you scroll through your feed liking Tara’s selfie with her boyfriend, Jeremiah. A photo of Caleb at a bar, he must have gotten some R&R today. And what’s this? Zayne posted a meme? Doctor Zayne? Oh, Greyson won a bet - that makes more sense. 

As you scroll, you start finding posts reposted by Lemuria Studios, recent clients, sketches done by artists and then a video that makes your chest tighten. Rafayel sits hunched over the arm of some buff dude in a tank top, the tattoo gun in his hand moves steadily against his skin. God, he looks hot. He’s just sitting there, doing his job, why are you freaking out? You want to put the phone down, watching him work is only going to make you more anxious for tomorrow. But you can’t seem to let it go. You’re mesmerised by the outline of the muscles of his forearm, barely visible under his own colorful tattoos, they twitch as he colors in the lines he just made. His dusty purple fringe brushes his cheeks, his earrings sway as he bobs his head to whatever music is playing. He stops and wipes the guy's arm with a towel before leaning back and looking at the camera. He smiles and… fuck… You drop your phone and stifle a moan. You’re not going to survive tomorrow. 

The next morning, you wake up early to get ready. You cook a huge breakfast, as difficult as this session was going to be, you didn’t want to make it worse by passing out. You down a huge glass of water while you do your makeup. You sweep your hair over your shoulders in two long braids and slip on a beanie. Your joggers sit comfortably on your hips and you change out your fitted halter for a dark cut off t-shirt. You were committing to the comfortable vibe, especially if you were going to be mostly uncomfortable very soon. 

Your phone rings and you race to the kitchen to see Tara’s picture flash on the screen. You answer and put it on speaker as you lace up your boots. 

“What’s up?”

“I’m just checking in before your session. Are you nervous?”

You chuckle under your breath. She has no idea.

“Oh yeah, I always get pre-tattoo jitters. They’ll go away when I get there.”

“I doubt it! Girl, his face is going to be inches away from your tits. I’d bring a change of panties if I were you.”

“Tara, what do you think people at work would say if they heard you talk like this?”

“Oh, they’d lose their minds! Sweet, innocent Tara would never warn you about imagining him dropping his tattoo gun and climbing on top of you, ripping your pasties off and –”

“TARA!”

She giggles for a minute straight, barely able to catch her breath. You swing your backpack over your shoulder and jog down to the garage. 

“Sorry! Honestly, I think you’ll have a great time. You’re gonna look hot with the new tat and I can’t wait to see it. Send me pics!”

“Of course. I’ll text you during breaks.”

After you hang up, you secure your helmet and hop on your bike. You take back roads instead of the highway since you know you’re too nervous and driving fast would be a bad idea. By the time you get to Regent Square, you can feel your heartbeat pounding against your ribcage. You find a long term parking garage and pay the outrageous fee. When you check your phone, you realize you only have 10 minutes before your appointment. You were supposed to be there at least 15 minutes early to fill out the paperwork. You jog down the street, only slowing long enough to catch your breath before heading inside the studio. 

Lemuria Studios is gorgeous, the pictures posted online don’t do it justice. The floor to ceiling windows bathe the room in sunshine, the weathered brick walls covered in bright graffiti, neon signs with what you assume to be words - although you are not sure what language it is and the hardwood floors are covered with vibrant rugs with intricate patterns. A large sectional couch corners off the waiting room where a few patrons wait for their artists. There are various tattoo stations, each decorated to suit a different artist. Towards the back of the studio there is a door with an ‘R’ in what looks like ceramic tiles. Must be Rafayel’s private room.

You approach the front desk and greet the receptionist with a smile. She passes you a clipboard with release forms and leaves to walk to the door at the back. You watch her knock and crack the door open, she says something before turning back to look at you. You quickly refocus and fill in the paperwork. You place the clipboard on the counter and take a seat on the couch, fiddling with the tassels of the pillow next to you. 

You’re about to stand and start pacing, your nerves getting the best of you, when you hear a door squeak open. You lift your eyes to see the man himself, emerge from the room and stroll towards the front of the studio. You clench your fists, yep, he’s even hotter in person. 

He’s dressed casually, his button up is definitely not buttoned up. His neck tattoo swirls down his neck to the center of his chest, two koi fish swim in a circle around his Adam's apple, the fins extend towards his jaw and down his neck with pink lotus flowers complimenting the red scales of the fish. Cut off sleeves let you see his signature tattoos, full sleeves on both arms. Not an inch of skin untouched, the full color underwater scenes are vibrant, bright orange and purple coral, dark blue waves highlighted with teals and white, schools of yellow and blue fish swim in circles around his forearm and a dolphin soars over the waves. His fitted jeans hide the leg tattoos you’ve seen in photos, the ocean waves that look more like flames than water that spiral from his ankle to his hip. He also supposedly has more tattoos on his torso, but you avoided looking up any photos of him shirtless because, well… that would be dangerous.

His shaggy hair casts a shadow over his eyes, but his smile is on full display. He turns to you and you hold your breath to avoid giggling like an idiot. His blue eyes are so bright, the wash of pink in them shines in the morning light that streams through the windows. As he approaches, you awkwardly stand and put on a shy smile. 

“Hi! I’m Rafayel, nice to officially meet you.”

He extends a hand and you nearly fall back onto the couch, finally taking a breath. You take his hand and revel in the softness of his skin. He suddenly yanks you forwards and starts pulling you toward the door at the back of the studio. You stumble along after him.

“I can’t wait to show you the final sketch, it’s everything you described but I added a little something that I think you’ll like.”

You giggle as he pulls you into the room. The bright purple walls are covered in either framed sketches, polaroids of tattoos, or random tattoo designs scribbled on a napkin or envelope. A vintage jukebox, with a modern AUX attachment, sits in the corner. A stack of canvases leans against the wall and a bucket of various spray paints sits on the floor. His drawing table has countless sketches pinned to it, including yours. The design is exactly what you imagined, but there’s an additional element. The centerpiece that directly connects to the chest piece is now slightly larger, having a net pattern woven behind it with a few fish and broken shells. 

“That’s amazing, holy shit! But it’s a bit more than we originally planned on, are you sure you have time?”

He immediately starts getting the transfer paper prepared. You see him shrug.

“The whole day is yours, it was booked by the radio station that set up the raffle. It’s actually pretty nice only having one client to work on, I can take my time.”

You feel your cheeks flush. He would take his time on your piece, it was flattering and nerve wrecking. You set your bag down on a chair in the corner and stuff your hands in your pockets.

“Oh, awesome, I didn’t realize…”

“You’re nervous aren’t you?”

You huff out a laugh and put your hands on your hips.

“Not at all, I have plenty of tattoos. I know the drill. I’m totally fine, just excited.”

He turns, the transfer paper in hand, and walks over to his station. Everything was meticulously set up from the tiny cups of ink to the paper towels to his tattoo gun. He sets the transfer paper down before heading to the sink in the corner and washing his hands.

“Do you need tape?”

You watch him scrub his hands, it was almost like he was a doctor preparing for surgery. You tilt your head and hum to yourself, trying to figure out his meaning. He dries his hands and looks at you, his lips set in an amused smirk.

“For your nipples.”

You immediately drop your gaze and try to laugh to distract from the blush rising to your neck and cheeks. You clear your throat and meet his gaze.

“No, I wore pasties. Like I said, I know the drill.”

He smiles and motions towards the table. He puts on gloves and gives his bottle of transfer cream a shake. He eyes you expectantly.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

You turn away from him and face the padded table in front of you. You tug your shirt off over your head and toss it over your bag on a nearby chair. You hesitate to turn around. You’re not sure why you’re so nervous - sure you are literally half-naked in front of a guy you could only dream of, but he’s done this countless times! Your tits are not the first ones he’s tattooed under. You turn to face him and watch his eyes drop to your chest, he glances at the transfer paper and back to you, mentally lining up the art on your body. 

“Yea, this will look amazing on you.”

His voice is rougher than before, you clasp your hands behind your back and rock on your heels.

“Thank you… uhm… do you want me to lie down or?”

He walks up and squeezes some transfer cream onto his gloved hand. 

“Just stand right here. This might be cold.”

You brace and when his fingers touch the skin just under your breast, you gasp. Not from the cold, but rather from the jolt of electricity that sparked through your system. 

“You were right, s’cold.” 

He chuckles and continues to rub the cream along your upper rib cage, under your breasts and down the center of your chest. He grabs the transfer paper and lines it up.

“Can you hold 'em up for a second?”

You blink.

“Your… breasts. I want to make sure this will line up properly.”

You silently curse at yourself for how stupid you feel. You really should have chosen maybe a leg piece or maybe a cute little forearm number, but no you had to do this. You cup your breasts and lift them, staring at the ceiling to avoid eye contact. He lines up the transfer and presses it to your skin, slowly peeling it away. 

“Fuck yes. That looks perfect. Take a look in the mirror and let me know what you think.”

He turns away and changes his gloves while you check his placement. Just the transfer looks insane, your previous embarrassment melts into excitement. You turn back to him with a huge smile. 

“I love it! It’s gonna look so good!”

Rafayel smiles and you skip over to the table. You miss the flush that spreads across his cheeks as he watches your tits bounce on your way over. You hear him clear his throat as he leans to drag his chair over with his foot. You lay back on the table, your head sinking into the pillow and your hands resting on your stomach.

Rafayel sits and slides closer to you on his chair. He picks up his tattoo gun and dips the needles into the ink. He looks up at you, shaking his head to get his fringe out of his eyes.

“Ready?”

You relax your shoulders and sigh, looking up at the ceiling. 

“Hell yeah.”

The outside of Rafayel’s palm rests against the side of your breast, holding the skin taut as he begins tattooing along the edge of your rib cage. The pain is about as bad as you expected. The vibration of the tattoo gun against your ribs makes your teeth chatter. You close your eyes and try to distract yourself while adjusting to the sting of the needles. 

“So, why mermaids?”

Rafayel’s voice breaks up the monotonous buzz of the tattoo machine. You tilt your chin down and look at his god-like profile. With his attention on your tattoo, you finally let yourself examine his face. The ear you can see is littered with piercings. Double conch, helix, daith, an industrial with a little fish charm attached. His eyes have a hint of black smudged along his lash line, of course he wears eyeliner… of fucking course. And it looks so damn good too. 

He has a variety of facial piercings, which look amazing and now you want one… or two. A small silver septum hoop. You notice he occasionally wiggles his nose, rubbing it across his top lip, a nervous habit perhaps? His lip piercings have you in a trance, the shark bites, the vertical labret - how would they feel against your lips? You also caught sight of a tongue ring. The things this man could probably do with his tongue…

“Still with me, cutie?”

You are glad he was refreshing the ink on the needles as you have a very physical reaction to this new little nickname he’s given you. You cough and try to steady yourself, once you are still he continues his work.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just distracted.”

“Oh yeah, by what?”

He’s teasing you now. Great. But you never back down from a fight and if he wants to poke at you with his cute little comments - and not just the needles in his tattoo gun - you’ll give it right back to him.

“By you.”

He laughs, a hint of surprise on his face.

“Oh really? What distracted you exactly?”

“I was just admiring your piercings. I haven’t gotten nearly enough.”

“What piercings do you want?”

His tattoo needle continues to buzz and the pain slowly fades to a numbness. 

“Definitely more on my ears. I like the tragus. And then maybe my navel, basic, I know.”

“No way, the navel is a great piercing. There are a lot of creative jewelry options too. I love mine, I’d recommend it to anyone.”

“You have your belly button pierced?” 

He chuckles and shifts his hand, his pinkie dangerously close to your pasty making your heart flutter.

“Yup. Was one of my first actually. After that it was all downhill. Now I have too many to count.”

“Really? What other piercings do you recommend then?”

He hesitates and glances up at you. His eyes flick to your breasts and back. And you swear you caught him biting his lip for a moment. 

“Body piercings are fun. But if you’re not ready for that but bored with your ears, facial piercings are a good place to start. Septum made me cry like a bitch, but it’s a great one.”

“Made you cry like a bitch, huh?”

Your mocking tone makes him pause and look at you, his lips set in a pout. You giggle at his pathetic, yet adorable, expression.

“It’s because it fucks with your sinuses or some shit, not because it hurt!”

“Okay, okay!”

“I’ve gotten some piercings that make grown men weep and didn’t flinch, trust me, it was not because of the pain.”

You raise your eyebrows at the implication, but you decide to hold your tongue and not entertain the thought of what those “other” piercings might be. You settle your head back and take a deep breath.

“And what about tattoos? Which one was the most painful?”

He hums to himself, his hand once again shifting and pushing your breast slightly upward as he colors in a line. 

“My neck was the worst, by far. I’m glad I didn’t pick something that went directly over my Adam’s apple cause I would not have survived.” 

“That piece is really nice. Did you design it?”

“I did. Then my apprentice tattooed it. Never been prouder of the kid. Now you’ve asked a few questions, I think it’s only fair you answer one of mine.”

You sigh dramatically and chuckle when he stops working. You know he is staring at you, probably pouting again, so you stare at the ceiling. 

“Alright, fair is fair.”

“Why mermaids?”

“Oh uhh…” You stutter as you try to find the right words. “Because they’re tragic yet beautiful.” 

Rafayel stops again and looks at you, his brows raised. 

“Art and literature depicts them as beautiful creatures, but their counterparts are much darker. Sirens lure sailors to their watery graves. They’re… underestimated? Like their beauty distracts while their voice reels them in. It’s powerful.”

“Was there something that prompted the need for a constant reminder of their power etched into your skin?”

You shift your gaze to his hands, resting on your stomach, the tattoo gun hovering over your skin.

“I spent a long time under someone’s thumb, feeling powerless. He always felt like he had to protect me. I was… lost… for a while. Then I read a book about a siren, using the form of a mermaid, who charmed the men in her life into submission while planning their downfall. I didn’t want Ca– my friend to be hurt though! I decided to put on a ‘damsel in distress’ act for him but I’m still in control, ya know?”

Rafayel nodded sharply, his gaze more intense. He shifted on his stool and the familiar hum of the tattoo gun started again. With his focus back on your body, you felt your mind start to spiral. Was your explanation dumb? You know sirens are not exactly mermaids, but mermaids looked better. Did he think you were dumb and confused them? Should you have said ‘cause they’re pretty’ instead?

“Most people don’t realize sirens and mermaids aren’t the same thing. Seems like you do.”

“I do! Yeah, I just… I guess…”

“Liked how mermaids looked better than a half bird sea creature?”

His voice was light, sarcasm had found its way back to him and you sighed in relief. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I saw some good siren designs but nothing clicked. This one did. Plus I think it makes my tits stand out.”

Rafayal lets out a breathy laugh and sits up straighter in his chair. He grabs a paper towel and wipes the excess ink from your skin. He moves his chair forward and settles his arm over the top of your breast, his hand resting at the center of your chest. You can feel his breath fan across your skin and you have to bite your lip, hard, to avoid shivering.

“It does, but I have a feeling they looked perfect before too.”

You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you feel slightly dizzy. Did he just? Did he? He complimented your tits. This man complimented your tits, with his face inches away from them, while stabbing you repeatedly with a needle. How are you supposed to respond to that?

“Thank… you.”

Rafayel laughs at your whispered appreciation. His hands work carefully, shifting and sliding to draw the centerpiece.

“Okay, next question.”

Over the next four hours you and Rafayel go back and forth with questions. It almost felt like you were on a first date. You talked about your favorite music, his favorite movies, your job at the Hunters Association, his secret sushi restaurant that’s opening in six months. On your break at the two hour mark, he offered you a soda and walked in circles around the room, stretching his legs, while talking animatedly about a rave happening later this month. And when you begged him for the details so you could get tickets, his smile grew tenfold.

As he was adding the final touches, he stood bent over you poking and dabbing away ink until you were nearly ready to scream. His hair would brush against your shoulder and you’d stiffen, leading to Rafayel joking about ‘staying loose or it’ll hurt more’ which made you squeeze your thighs so tightly you nearly cried. When he finished and was doing the clean up he surprised you, his cheeks were a tad rosy and his usually playful tone more serious.

“I haven’t had this much fun during a session in a while. So… Thank you. I hope you like it.”

You took his hand and sat up, hopping off the table to turn and face the mirror. You were speechless. The lines were sharp and straight, the colors bright, the shading made everything pop out as if the seashells were just sitting on the surface of your skin. Your mermaids were glowing - their scales nearly sparkled and the ocean waves surrounding them looked so real. Tiny sparks floated around the mermaid's hands, creating a shield of fire. Like they were putting on a show or putting up a forcefield. You couldn’t stop yourself from squealing with excitement before you turned around and lunged towards Rafayel, pulling him into a hug.

“Oh my god…”

As soon as your chest collided with his, your excitement faded and pure terror replaced it. You jumped back, instinctively covering your chest with your hands. His ears were bright red and he stared at you, unable to blink it seems. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think! I was so excited and… Shit… I –”

He reaches out and takes hold of your arms. You snap your mouth closed.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you love it. I do wish that you hadn’t… pulled away so quickly though…”

You blinked rapidly. He was pouting again, pouting because you pulled away from hugging him. From hugging him while… His thumbs brush against your skin and you tilt your head, scanning his face for confirmation that what he said was real.

“I was going to wait to ask you out until after I bandaged you up and you had your shirt on, but why waste a perfectly good moment?”

Your mouth hangs open and you feel your knees jerk. Rafayel’s hold on you tightens and he helps you lean back against the table.

“Shit… let me get you some juice, you’re probably crashing a bit.” 

Oh, he has no idea just how badly you are crashing out right now. He jogs out of the room and returns with a small bottle of orange juice. He opens it for you and holds it to your lips. You take a sip and lift your hand to hold his wrist while he helps you drink. His eyes meet yours and you stare at him, he doesn’t look away, his gaze burns straight to your core. He sets the bottle down and grabs a paper towel, dabbing at your leaking tattoo gently. 

“Yes.” You whisper.

“What?”

“Yes, I’ll go out with you.”

If you thought you’d seen him excited before… He smiles, his dazzling teeth take your breath away. You raise a brow when you realize he has gems adhered to his canines - can he get any sexier?

“Well, I’d say this session went swimmingly.” 

You giggle and rest your palms on the table behind you. He gets to work cleaning your tattoo and snapping a few pictures for you before covering the fresh ink with Saniderm wrap. You pull your shirt back on and down the rest of the orange juice - you were starting to feel your endorphins fade away and your body was reeling from the experience. 

“How does tomorrow night sound?” 

He holds his phone out to you and you take it, seeing he already set up a contact for you. You feel your cheeks burn when you see the contact name “Tattoo Cutie.” You don’t correct it, just add your name beside it and punch in your number before handing it back to him. 

“Sounds perfect.”

You wake up to a banging on your front door, it’s so loud you’re sure your neighbors will complain to you later. You don’t even bother putting on your robe and jog through your living room. You swing the door open and Tara flies through, nearly knocking you over. You close the door and follow her through the hall to your living room.

“You’re casting a spell or making one of those wish bottle things or whatever it is that you’re doing to make your life so damn perfect.”

She plops down on your sofa and crosses her arms. She stares up at you with a stern expression. You try not to giggle since Tara’s version of “stern” comes across a lot like Rafayel’s pout. 

“I didn’t cast a spell. I just –”

“You just what? Became the luckiest girl in the world without even trying? That’s even worse!”

You finally let out a laugh and sit down next to her, pulling your legs to your chest.

“Listen, I have no idea what’s going on, I am just trying to enjoy it while it lasts. It feels like I’m going to wake up any moment and realize it was all a dream.”

She shifts on the sofa and turns to face you.

“I don’t want to sound like I am jealous in a mean way, I am jealous in a ‘give me some of your luck’ way. Maybe then Jeremiah will finally propose…”

You grab her hand and squeeze gently.

“Oh come one, you literally picked out your ring with him! He’ll propose, he’s obsessed with you. He’s also terrified of you, so he knows better than to half-ass a proposal. Give him more time.”

Her cheeks flush and she looks down at her hand, holding up her ring finger. She lets out a sigh and looks up at you with determination.

“I want to know everything about last night. Every dirty detail. Spill.”

She kicks off her shoes and crosses her legs under her, fully facing you. She won’t let go of your hand, so you’re trapped on the sofa with her until you tell her about your date.

“He picked me up on his bike and –”

“He rides a bike! Oh my god that’s hot - what kind?!”

“A Kawasaki. It was really nice, dark blue with bright blue headlights. He told me he collects them so –”

“He collects motorcycles? Oh my god…”

“Are you going to let me tell you about the date or not?”

Tara huffs and lets go of your hand. She lifts her fingers to her mouth and pressed her lips together, “zipping her lips” so you can continue.

“We drove around for a while and then he took me to – oh I don’t know if I can tell you…”

“BITCH IF YOU DON’T –”

You laugh and lean away from her flailing hands. You raise yours in surrender.

“Okay, okay, but you have to promise not to say anything, swear.”

She places a hand over her heart.

“I swear on Winterford the 3rd I will not speak a word.”

“Woah, swearing on your dog's life is intense Tara.”

She crosses her arms and glares at you. You roll your eyes and continue.

“He is opening a sushi restaurant in a few months, so he took me there to show me around. It’s down at the pier near Whitesand Bay.”

Tara opens her mouth to say something but instantly closes it. You nod in approval, her self-control is improving. 

“He doesn’t have a name for it yet, but the interior and kitchen are done. We made sushi together and ate on the rooftop terrace looking out over the water.”

Tara lets out a closed-mouth squeal and claps her hands. She motions with her hands for you to continue. 

“We walked along the pier and talked for a long time. When it got dark he offered his jacket - I know - and then we went back to his bike. He drove down this alley where graffiti artists practice and gave me a can to try it out.”

“Wait - sorry - you defaced public property?”

“Rafayel owns the building and advertises it as, and I quote ‘an artists playground’ so no I did not.”

“That’s a shame, it would have been hot.”

“Tara! I’m a public servant! I’d lose my job.”

She pokes your shoulder.

“Only if you get caught!”

You rub your temples and suppress the urge to laugh at her antics. 

“What happened next?”

“He drove me home.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

She punches your shoulder and you fall back onto the couch.

“TARA!”

“YOU DIDN’T EVEN GET A KISS? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“I DID! Just not… okay… he kissed me on the cheek when he said good night. It was cute.”

“CUTE?”

You sit up and push her, she doesn’t even move. 

“I don’t want to rush things!”

“At least tell me he made plans for a second date with you?”

“He did. We are going out on Friday night.”

“Thank god. Please, I beg of you, get laid or at least make out with him!”

“Tara, I swear to god…”

“You have been insanely stressed lately and from what you’ve told me, he is super into you. Just let go babe, enjoy it! Enjoy him.”

You cross your arms and shake your head.

“It’ll happen when it feels right. I won’t lie, I hope it’s sooner rather than later, but I also am willing to wait. I –”

You stop yourself, feeling your cheeks heat up. Tara’s expression softens.

“Oh. Oh.”

You get up from the couch and head into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. Tara is right on your heels.

“You liiiiike him. Aww, babes!”

She wraps her arms around you, hugging your back as you pour coffee beans into your espresso machine. 

“I just started seeing him, it’s too early to tell.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

She releases you and slides onto a bar stool, her arms leaning on the island. You start chopping up fruit and try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. The sound of your coffee machine cuts through the silence and you avoid looking at Tara, knowing she can read you like a book. Maybe it was after the tattoo session or when you were holding hands on the pier, but at some point you realized you really liked Rafayel. He made you laugh and he asked the most bizarre questions that made you think about life in a new light. You wanted more and god, you hope he does too.

By the time Friday rolls around you are definitely ready for some fun. You’ve been constantly sharing memes back and forth with Rafayel all week. It’s certainly eased the stress of work. But you want to see him and you’re eager for his call when you finally clock out and head home.

You’re barely in the front door when you hear your phone buzz. You see Rafayel’s name light up your screen and have to force yourself to count to ten before answering it. You don’t want to seem that eager. 

“Hey, you.”

“Hey cutie, how was work?”

“It was okay, not too much activity today so I was stuck cataloging old reports. I almost fell asleep like three times.”

“I bet. I… shit… I have to tell you something.”

You clench your fist and lean against the door to your bedroom, dropping your bag to the floor.

“Okaaaay.”

He sighs and the knot in your stomach tightens.

“I have to reschedule.”

And there it is, your heart sinks.

“Oh… yeah okay.”

“Not because I want to, trust me. I owe someone a favor and have to be at a party.”

You bite your lip, propping your hand on your hip as you start to pace.

“I see.”

You can’t mask the edge to your voice. A party? Someone is calling in a favor for him to come to their party? He is famous, so it would make them look good, but why couldn’t he invite you? Was he embarrassed of you? Did he not want people in his life to know you were dating? Or seeing each other? Or just talking? Are you even dating?

“It’s more like work, she’s offering free tattoos to the guests. The other artist fell through so she’s calling me in so her party doesn’t ‘crash and burn’ - her words not mine.”

“Uh huh.”

“Okay, you’re pissed.”

You stop dead in your tracks and straighten up.

“I am not!”

“I can hear you pacing.” 

You look down at your shoes. Of course you wore your chunky boots with the clicky heels today. The taps on your wooden floors were that loud? Damn.

“I’m not mad, I promise.”

“Then you’re irritated?”

“No…”

“What is it? Come on, tell me.”

“I guess… confused?”

“Confused about what?”

You close your eyes and sit down on your bed. Bracing yourself for the embarrassment you’re sure will wash over you after your next statement. 

“Is there a reason you couldn’t bring me? I know you said it was more like work, but I guess… You know what, nevermind.”

You flop back onto your mattress and cover your eyes with your arm.

“Nope! Not ‘nevermind-ing’ - I would love to bring you, I just… I… fuck how do I explain it?”

“You don’t want anyone knowing about me?”

“No! Fuck no! That’s not what I… shit… okay, I didn’t think you’d want to come. It’s not a normal party. Not everyone is… comfortable with this sort of thing.”

You sit up immediately. Your hand tightly grips your phone. 

“What kind of party is it?”

He pauses. The silence stretches for what feels like hours. He finally sighs and chuckles under his breath.

“It’s a sex party, babe.”

You audibly gasp and slap a hand over your mouth. You shake your head and ignore your throbbing clit to continue the conversation.

“Oh, I… right… I get it. Sorry. Uhm…”

“You’re more than welcome to come as my plus one, but only if you’re comfortable.”

You take a moment and consider your options. A sex party. As Rafayel’s plus one. You’ve never been very adventurous with your sexual endeavors. You didn’t even realize sex parties happened in real life. You’re practically salivating just thinking about it. You stand and face the mirror hanging next to your closet. What have you got to lose? 

“What should I wear?”

Rafayel laughs, he clears his throat before continuing. 

“Something sexy, but that’ll be easy for you. I’ll bring you a mask.”

You pause after opening your closet. 

��A mask?”

“Yeah, everyone wears masks to add to the ‘experience’ - everyone at these parties knows each other most of the time, but the masks offer a sense of freedom. Everybody can do what they want for the night, no consequences.”

You tug at the fabric of a sleek black dress as you mull over the idea. Just for the night. No consequences. Maybe Tara is right, maybe you should just let go. 

“What time?”

“It starts at 9. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

“See you then.”

After you hang up you get to work figuring out your outfit. Rafayel might have confidence in your ability to pick out a sexy outfit but you certainly didn’t. Should it be sexy and cute? Just sexy? Sexy and slutty? Sexy and fancy? You pull dress after dress from your closet and nothing feels right. You finally decide to forgo dresses completely. The first skirt you pull out is the one. You can visualize the outfit and while it’s much more revealing than you’re used to, you are pretty sure you’d be wearing more than most of the party goers regardless. 

You zip up the pleather mini skirt, adjusting it so it sits high on your hips. Your legs were on full display, the skirt mostly serving to just cover your ass. You grab your favorite black bra and shrug on the mesh top. Layering gold necklaces so your torso doesn’t appear so bare. You look in the mirror and jump up and down with excitement. Your tattoos are fully visible through the mesh. You had lathered lotion onto your new tattoos so the peeling wasn’t noticeable and carefully applied perfume, avoiding the healing skin. Your red pumps sit next to the door with your red crossbody clutch. You were ready, well sort of.

Rafayel called you only a few minutes later and you carefully made your way to the first floor. You were comfortable wearing heels, opting to wear them all the time when hitting the club with Tara or going on dates. But tonight, your nerves were making your ankles a little wobbly. The elevator door opens to the front lobby of your apartment building and you spot Rafayel leaning against a car just outside. Fuck.

He had a button up, that was actually buttoned up this time, tucked into shredded jeans. His boots were laced with gold laces. He had multiple chain necklaces around his neck. As you got closer you realized his shirt was also see through, just little golden floral appliques scattered over the sheer fabric. You could see everything and god, it was a sight. The definition of his abs, the dark lines of a tattoo on his side and swirls of ink trailing from his neck piece down his chest. You spot his navel piercing, sparkling as the setting sun casts what almost felt like a spotlight on him. Something else sparkles, nipple rings. You swear under your breath. He’s going to kill you, not literally, but - well he might with how fast your heart is beating. 

He finally looks up from his phone and spots you. His eyes widen and he stares, jaw slack, for at least a full minute. Your cheeks burn and you have to focus on his face so you don’t sneak a peek at his torso again. 

“Fuck, you look amazing.”

His words make you stammer. You swallow hard, working up the courage to respond.

“I can say the same for you.”

He wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your cheek. You feel his body against yours and sigh, wishing you could delay him letting you go.

“Ready to go, cutie?”

You nod and he opens the passenger door for you. You slide in and finally take a good look at the car you’re in. You’ve never ridden in a Bentley before - the seats were soft under your thighs. The leather is silky rather than sticky against your skin. The car was painted a similar dark blue to his bike and had the same bright blue headlights. You already knew he liked the color blue, but this just made it more obvious. 

He settles into the driver seat and the engine revs to life. 

“You’re sure you’re comfortable with this?”

You lean on the center console as you face him, leaning forwards.

“I’m sure.”

“We can leave at any point, Talia will just have to deal with it. Just don’t hesitate to –”

You press your index finger to his lips, silencing him. The surprised look on his face makes your smile hurt your cheeks.

“Rafayel, I’m sure.”

He smiles and you drop your hand, but he grabs it immediately and laces his fingers with yours. He rests your hand on his thigh, rubbing your hand with his thumb as he sets off down the highway.

As the gates to the mansion open, you squeeze Rafayel’s hand trying to quell a wave of nerves. This mansion is huge, you spot two guest houses and a pool with a waterfall - a full ass waterfall - nestled in the backyard surrounded by hundreds of trees and flowers. The cobblestone driveway leads to a massive mahogany front door, where two men stand, dressed in black. Rafayel continues rubbing your hand with his thumb.

“It’s intimidating, I know. It’ll be better once we’re inside.”

You watch party goers enter, getting pat down briefly before heading inside. From what you can see, they’re dressed fairly normally. Dresses and heels, suits or blazers. Rafayel parks in the garage of one of the guest houses and rushes around the car to open your door. You give him a playful glare.

“You know I can open my own door, good sir.”

He takes your hand and helps you out, bringing your hand to his mouth, his lips pressing against your knuckles. 

“I’m aware.”

You don’t argue when he wraps an arm around your waist as he leads you to the main house. He enters through a backdoor and a security guard greets him with a smile.

“Raf, good to see you. Talia is in the main room already. She told me to show you to the booth. And who is this with you?”

His voice hardens when he spots you. Rafayel leans over and kisses your temple.

“She’s with me.”

The guard nods and unlocks a door, ushering you both inside.

All the lightbulbs have been replaced with warm red bulbs, fake candles cover every surface, cushions and blankets are tucked in corners. Rooms that typically never have beds have become makeshift bedrooms. Wait staff stroll in and out of the kitchen with platters covered in hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne. A DJ is perched on a balcony overlooking the main floor, the music a mix of soft jazz with sultry singers. 

You’ve yet to spot any party goers, so you relax a bit as you take in the lavish interior. You’re pulled behind a curtain, a small room sits behind it with a padded table, a small cabinet, a portable sink, a large medical light and a few stools. Rafayel walks up to the cabinet and crouches, examining its contents. You spot a large collection of tattoo equipment. As Rafayel sets up his station, you peek through the curtain and see people walking around. Everyone is wearing masks and at least some form of clothing. You hear Rafayel call your name and you jump back through the curtain.

“Curious, are we?”

You scoff and cross your arms. He turns to you and holds something out. You take it and realize it’s a simple black eye mask, made of simple fabric with a thick elastic band. When you look back up at Rafayel, he is already putting his on. You slip the mask on and fiddle with the elastic, unsure if you should tuck it under your hair. Rafayel touches your hand and you pause. He turns you around and collects your hair, holding it up so you can slip the elastic band underneath. He lets your hair go and smoothes it back in place. 

“You’re welcome to look around, you don’t have to stay here with me.”

“I’ll stay, at least for now. I can be your assistant.”

He smiles and brushes his thumb across your cheek. He stares at you for a moment, his eyes bouncing from your eyes to your lips. You hook your fingers in the belt loops of his jeans and he leans closer. Is he going to –

“Raffie! Oh my god thank you thank you thank you!”

A woman with long purple waves bounces through the curtain. You almost let out a gasp when you see she’s naked from the waist up. Rafayel slaps a hand over his eyes and sighs.

“Talia… You might be the one person at this party I absolutely do not want to see naked.”

“Raffie, you’re so dramatic. I have pasties on!.”

If she did have pasties, they were… camouflaged. Her teasing voice only seems to irritate Rafayel more. Or maybe it’s because of her cute little nickname for him.

“Talia, please…”

Talia sighs dramatically and dives through the curtain for a moment. When she returns she has a silky purple robe on. She reaches up and yanks Rafayel’s wrist and pulls his hand from his face. His eyes remain closed.

“I put on a robe, Raffie. Chill out.”

Rafayel opens his eyes and shoves her shoulder playfully.

“Stop it with the Raffie.”

“I don’t know, I like Raffie. It’s cute.”

Rafayel stares at you and you can’t help but laugh. Talia giggles and grabs your hand, shaking it wildly.

“When Rafayel said he was bringing a plus one I was shocked. He never brings anyone around me honestly. You must be special.”

“Oh, no I’m –”

“She is.”

Rafayel cuts you off and you nearly choke on your own saliva. His hand grazes your hip, holding you close. Talia smiles and pokes his shoulder.

“I see. Well… here you go.”

She hands you and Rafayel a keyring with three cards attached. You flip the cards back and forth, not seeing anything printed on them. 

“In case you decide to… participate. Feel free to tattoo as long as you like, I only promised the service until midnight.”

Rafayel nods and accepts the side hug Talia offers. She gives you a quick hug as well - taking you by surprise - before skipping out of the room.

“So that’s Talia. She’s my aunt. And she’s so great at introductions.”

He puts his keyring in the cabinet and sits down on one of the stools next to the table. He starts spreading out a wide array of flash tattoos he’s designed, making it easier for selection. You fiddle with the keyring. 

“So what’s this about?”

He looks up and, even in the dim lighting you can see his ears turn red.

“It’s a… aha… a way to approach someone you want to interact with and express interest.”

You stare at him, letting your mind wander as you try to figure out how it works. You avoid Rafayel’s gaze, embarrassed that you don’t understand his implications. You hear him stand and approach you. His hand covers your own and he takes the keyring. You watch as he flips to the blue card.

“An individual will approach another individual, or a group of individuals, and hold up a card. They’ll wait until they’re chosen or refused. The card tells you what they want.” 

You lift your wide eyes to meet his.

“The blue card is for the male. The red card is for the female. And the yellow card is for both.”

You blink rapidly and clear your throat.

“So if I approached you and held up this.”

He holds up the red card.

“It means I want you… In whatever way I can have you.”

You take a deep breath and feel your chest tighten. You press your thighs together and basically beg your pussy to calm down. He places the keyring back in your hand and closes your fingers around it. He lifts his hand to hold the side of your neck. He leans closer, his nose brushing against yours, his breath fanning across your face. His lips barely graze your cheek, just above your lips. Every breath you take pushes your chest against his. It takes everything you have not to grab him and devour him on the spot.

You hear the curtain behind you flip open and Rafayel lets go of your neck, looking up to see his first client. You sit on a stool and watch Rafayel tattoo client after client. Most are completely naked, which takes you a bit of time to adjust to. You help him by cleaning the table - very well - between clients. 

Every time a woman enters, their breasts bouncing and pussy proudly on display, you feel a twinge of pain. And when Rafayel puts his hands on them to begin working, it feels like you’re going to throw up. 

Before you know it, midnight is less than a half hour away and your nerves start to swirl. What will Rafayel want to do once his “duties” are done? Just as you’re getting ready to ask him, a perky brunette with olive skin strolls in. Golden chains draped over her perfect body. She leans against the table and points to a simple jellyfish design. 

“It’s a popular one. Where’dya want it?” 

He clears the table and she lays down on her back. You glance down at your phone and check the time and when you look back up, she is laying with her legs spread wide. You hold your breath and look to Rafayel, who is still focused on getting his supplies refreshed. When he turns around a look of genuine surprise graces his face. He sets his tattoo gun down and crosses the room to wash his hands.

“Are you sure about that? It’s worse than a piercing and harder to heal. You won't be able to participate anymore tonight.”

“A night of passion or a tattoo on my pussy by the famous Rafayel? I am absolutely sure.”

Rafayel doesn’t look at you as he puts on his gloves. You tense and drop your gaze. He sits on his stool and slides over, when you finally look up you see him basically staring at her pussy. You gasp silently, you didn’t think it was loud enough for anyone to hear, but when Rafayel glances over his shoulder at you you quickly get up and dash through the curtain. 

You don’t look back and you don’t hear him call for you - not that you could hear anything over the music and moans. You walk through the various rooms, grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter on your way. You finally find an empty room and sit down to catch your breath. You down your champagne in one go and fiddle with the stem of the glass. 

You know you shouldn’t be upset, you weren’t in a relationship and this was technically your second date. From the sounds of it, he’s tattooed that area before. Of course he has, it’s his job. It isn’t a big deal. You feel foolish for running out like that, he probably thinks you’re dramatic and can’t handle his job or his fame. You set the glass on a table nearby and cover your face with your hands. 

You finish off two more glasses of champagne before feeling brave enough to head back into the main hall. You take your time as you walk back to Rafayel’s tattoo booth, letting yourself watch the chaos around you. Clusters of people on beds, tables and even the floor. Riding, licking, sucking, moaning. You feel like you’re in another world, where shame and embarrassment don’t exist. If you weren’t so frustrated you might actually be enjoying yourself. 

You stop at the staircase, your eyes locked on a couple wrapped around each other. It’s not like the others, they take their time, kissing and touching before he lifts her to ride his cock. Her moans are soft and the smile on her face - she’s experiencing pure bliss. You feel your cheeks heat and your throat tighten. You want that, not just a night of passion with a hot guy. And maybe you aren’t able to handle Rafayel’s job or fame. Is that such a bad thing? That you know what you want? Or what you don’t want?

“Cutie?”

Rafayel’s voice breaks you out of your spiral. You feel his hand on your back and you turn to face him. You know your cheeks are flushed, your eyes hazy yet vacant as your mind tries to make sense of your newfound clarity. 

“I’m sorry I ran out.”

He places his hands on your shoulders and rubs your arms.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I know it’s your job and you’ve probably tattooed plenty of pussies - it’s not a big deal.”

“Really? I think it is a big deal if it upsets you.”

“I wasn’t upset. It doesn’t matter anyway, if I can’t handle it then maybe you should find someone who can.”

He stiffens, his brows knit together and his eyes darken. His voice drops and his tone becomes rigid.

“Is that what you want? For me to find someone else?”

“Maybe I am uncomfortable with the idea of you touching another girl's pussy, even if it is for your job. So yes, find someone who doesn’t care.”

He pushes you back against the wall. His hands move from your arms to tightly grip your hips.

“What if I like that about you?”

You open your mouth to respond, but he leans in, pressing his chest against yours.

“Do you want my hands on you? Only you? Only touching your pussy?”

Your chest heaves, pressing against him with every breath. His hands move up your waist, forcing your back to arch off the wall towards him.

“Cause that’s what I want. I don’t want to touch anyone else like that, not when yours is the one I can’t stop thinking about tasting.”

His nose rubs against yours.

“I told her to change the location or get out.”

His lips brush against yours, you can almost taste him.

“So don’t tell me to find someone else because you’re the one I want. So please, don’t run away.”

You let out a shaky breath and reach up to grab his neck, you capture his lips. He moans against your mouth and you bite his lip. He gasps and tries to pull back but you don’t let him. You hold him to you and slide your tongue into his mouth, which he quickly sucks in. His tongue dances with yours leaving you breathless. 

He leans down to pick you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and his hands dive under your skirt. He grabs your ass and you roll your hips against his stomach. He walks over to an unoccupied sofa and sits down with you straddling his lap. You run your hands down his body, feeling the chill of his nipple rings against your palms. He pushes your hips down and you lower onto him, his bulge growing harder under you. He suddenly pulls back.

“Wait - do you want to go somewhere private?”

You grind your hips against him and he groans loudly. You can feel eyes on you and it makes you grind harder. You lean forward and press your mouth to his ear.

“I can’t wait… and I want them to watch you take what’s yours.”

Something inside of Rafayel snaps. He rips the mesh top from your body and pulls up your skirt over your hips. His hands roam across your back as he places kisses to your chest. Your relentless grinding makes him nip and lick at your skin in response. He unhooks your bra and tosses it over the sofa, his mouth moving to capture your nipple. You throw your head back and sigh, your breathing becoming more erratic by the second. 

He lifts your hips and you whine, the friction of his bulge against your clothed pussy wasn’t perfect, but it was something. He picks you up and stands, dropping you onto the couch. He kneels and unzips your skirt, pulling it completely off of you. You tug the buttons on his shirt loose and run your hands over his chest. He pulls off the shirt and you reach to unbutton his pants, but his hand stops you. You look at him, confused.

“I have to show you something first, okay baby?”

You nod and lean back. He unbuttons his pants and bends to pull them down completely - along with his underwear. Your jaw drops, literally drops, at the sight of his cock. Not just because he is well-endowed - not to the point of discomfort, but you’re sure you’ll be sore tomorrow. But because the moment you saw that glint of silver your pussy throbbed so hard you nearly came. 

Right at the base of his slit sat the silver ball, you reach out and wrap your hand around him. He shudders but remains still for you. You run your fingers over his slit, already leaking pre-cum, and roll the silver ball between your fingers. You feel the other end of the piercing underneath, you shift the piercing back and forth. He moans and his hips twitch. You stroke him slowly, working your way down to the silver studs at the base, sitting atop his pubic mound. You moan as your fingers rub across it, imagining how good it will feel against your clit. 

“Having fun, cutie?”

His words are broken, his breathing labored as you work him. You smile up at him and push yourself to the end of the sofa. He reaches his hand out and strokes your cheek. You hold his gaze as you stick your tongue out and lick his slit. His hands grip your hair and he pulls you away from him. He towers over you, making you lean back onto the couch. He climbs over you and leans down, pressing his lips to your neck.

“How wet are you right now?”

You roll your hips up against his cock and he growls into your neck. He sits back to tug your panties down your legs. He lowers himself again, pressing his entire body against yours. You moan with how hot his skin feels against yours. You wrap your arms around him and cling to him, your legs spreading wider as he settles against you. His hands roam your body, pinching at your nipples, fingering your weeping pussy, palming your ass - every touch sending shockwaves through your system. 

He dips his fingers further into your pussy and you pull your hips back. He looks at you, sweat already dripping down his forehead. You run your fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes - those beautiful fucking eyes. 

“I don’t want your fingers Raf, please…”

He chuckles and slides his hand down to line himself up. You feel the chill of metal against your entrance and flinch. 

“Look at me.”

You tear your eyes away from his cock and meet his gaze. He leans forward and kisses you. It’s a slow and steady kiss. Your mind swims as you feel his tongue slide in. And then you feel that delicious stretch, his cock sinking into you, the metal balls of his piercing stroking your inner walls. The kiss turns messy as your moans and his gasps harmonize and fill the air around you. Finally your hips jerk forward and you feel his pubic piercing press to your clit. You pull away from the kiss to scream his name, the pressure and chill of the metal overloading your senses. 

Rafayel whines as he holds still to let you adjust to him. You claw at his back and he drops a foot to the floor beside the couch to angle his hips better. You know he’s about to pound into you and make you scream even louder. The thought of the people around you watching makes you delirious. 

“Raf.. I need you– I need you to move, please…”

He doesn’t hesitate and he pulls back until just his tip is tucked inside and then he rams his hips forward, sending you backwards on the couch. You squeal and moan as he finds his rhythm. He rests his forehead against yours and gasps for air, his chest turning red from the exertion. Every snap of his hips pushes his pubic piercing against your clit making it throb and the drag of those inside of you drives you crazy. Finally you feel it, that silver ball hitting that spongy spot that makes your legs shake. You whimper and ignore the tears sliding down your cheek, the pleasure completely encompassing your being. 

“Fuck… I need to come, ahh.. Shit…”

He starts to pull out, but you wrap your legs around him and lock your ankles. He looks at you, his forehead tight as he fights off his orgasm. You release his back for a moment to grab his face, pressing a kiss to his swollen lips.

“Come inside me, baby. Pill… I’m on the pill, just come for me…”

Your command is immediately obeyed, you feel his release and shudder as the warmth fills you. His pace never falters and the added slickness from his release makes his cock slide through you even faster. Your g-spot is hit every single time he thrusts and you finally feel your back arch and your body tremble, your orgasm hits and you scream.

“Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes Rafayel fuck yeeeeessss…” 

As you both come down, you feel his body relax against you. You lean your head to the side and he nuzzles into your neck. His soft kisses help your breathing to steady. You open your eyes and gasp quietly. Rafayel lifts his head and follows your gaze. A small group of people are standing in a circle around the sofa where you and Rafayel are lying. Some of them are holding cards and leaning on each other, some are just smiling and whispering to each other. 

“They want to join.”

Rafayel whispers in your ear. You hold onto him, suddenly very aware of how naked you are - how naked everyone is. Rafayel lifts you, his cock slipping out before he settles you on his lap. He wraps his arms around you protectively.

“We can tell them to leave, if you want?”

You hear your heart pounding in your ears. Before tonight, you never would have thought you’d be interested in experiencing certain things, but now… 

“Are you uncomfortable with anything?”

He looks at you, his brows raised in surprise.

“Another man’s dick in you, for one. Or his tongue…”

“I meant, for you.”

He tilts his head.

“I thought…”

“I don’t want you anywhere near another girl’s pussy. But his… tongue…”

You look up and stare at a particularly attractive man standing on the outskirts of the small group, partially hidden in shadow. He’s tall, broad shoulders, the hard lines of his abdomen glisten with sweat. An intricate tattoo of a dragon starts at his chest, its wings spread across his shoulder and down his arm, the body trails down his side, curving over his abs before its tail spirals down his hip and coils around his thigh. Before you can stop yourself, your eyes shift and damn… you can appreciate a pretty cock when you see one. His black and red mask covers his whole face, but even from a distance, his eyes are piercing. Rafayel follows your eyes and sees him, a blue card in his hand.

“What do you want him to do to me?”

You lean into his ear and nip at his earlobe, his cock springing to life against your thigh.

“I want him to suck you off while I ride your face.”

Rafayel groans, his head pressed into your shoulder. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Only if you want to. I want you to be comfortable. I want you to feel good.”

He lifts his head and looks at the man, who you’re positive is smiling wickedly. Rafayel gives him a nod and he approaches. The rest of those watching move back slightly, giving your trio more room. The man pulls a large round ottoman over and kneels beside it. His voice is deep and smooth, sending shivers down your back. Watching a man like this make Rafayel writhe with pleasure sends a new slickness to your tender pussy.

“Your ass goes here pretty boy, you lay back with your head on the couch so your girl can sit comfortably.”

He pats the ottoman, now lined up against the couch. Rafayel stares at him, his mouth hangs open. You examine the man before you, you wonder if he’s wearing contacts. Crimson eyes stare directly at Rafayel. Just as Rafayel is about to speak, the man lifts a finger to where his mouth would be. He reaches around his ear and you hear a quiet click. The lower half of his mask detaches and he slides it off, his face now only partially disguised. His smirk is breathtaking, he licks his lips slowly.

“I’m a man of my word.”

You look at Rafayel and narrow your eyes. He shakes his head.

“I’ll explain later.”

You lean in and kiss him, he whines when you pull back. He stands up with you in his arms and sets you on your feet beside him. He approaches the man, who is at least 2-3 inches taller than him. The man places a finger under Rafayel’s chin and lifts his gaze. 

“Your legs don’t move and your hands stay still. If you thrust, I hold you down. I’m doing the work here. Just like she –”

He points at you over Rafayel’s shoulder.

“She is riding. You lay there and take it, got it?”

You watch Rafayel tense, but with how his breathing accelerates you can tell he is turned on. He lays down, positioning himself as instructed. The man kneels and places his hands on Rafayel’s knees. Rafayel looks down and watches the man slowly glide his hands up his thighs. You crawl onto the couch, watching the man caress Rafayel. Finally the man wraps his large hands around Rafayel’s cock and strokes him until Rafayel is panting. The man nods at you and you pull on Rafayel’s shoulders until he rests his head back on the couch. You lift your leg over his head and hover over his face, but he doesn’t let you tease him. He grabs your thighs and pulls you down without warning. His lips close around your clit. You gasp and grab onto his elbows. 

You feel the chill of his lip piercings, his septum ring brushes against the skin just above your clit. And you finally have your answer, how his tongue ring would feel… you’ll never be the same. The ball rolls over your clit, the sudden chill and pressure makes your vision blur. You start rolling your hips. His moans start to get louder and you look up to see the man has started licking Rafayel’s shaft, placing sloppy kisses to his tip. He sucks his tip into his mouth and suckles, the lewd slurping sound he makes pushes you to grind your hips faster. When he finally takes Rafayel fully into his mouth Rafayel’s hips jerk. The man stops and lifts his mouth off of him and you feel Rafayel shake.

“I told you, no moving.”

He presses his forearms onto Rafayel’s thighs and grip his hips. You feel Rafayel’s fingers dig into your thighs as he laps at your clit, making your core heat unbelievably fast. You watch the man take Rafayel back into his mouth, lowering himself until Rafayel’s cock is fully in his mouth. Rafayel shakes under you and whimpers loudly. Hearing him whimper like that could make you come untouched, you’re sure of it. You watch the man’s throat move as he swallows around his length. You grind faster, knowing Rafayel won’t last long if this mystery man is deepthroating him so easily. He finally thrusts his tongue inside you and you lean forward, resting your hands on his stomach.

“Tell him to finger you.”

The man’s rushed words take you by surprise. As soon as he says them he is taking Rafayel in his mouth again. You lift yourself up just enough to hear Rafayel take a deep breath and groan wildly. You shift and bring your knees closer to his head.

“Raf, fingers… in me.”

A cocky smile tugs at his lips.

“I thought you said… you didn’t want my fingers?”

He barely gets the words out before he gasps, the man has shifted and sucked one of Rafayel’s balls into his mouth, his hand stroking his shaft. You look back at Rafayel and smile.

“Do as you’re told, pretty boy.”

You sit back down before he can reply. He quickly lifts his hands and circles your pussy as he continues to work your clit with his tongue. His teeth graze the sensitive bundle and his fingers curl and scissor rapidly against your puffy walls, not giving you a moment to adjust. You lean down and run your tongue over his nipple ring, he rams his fingers into you harder in response, finding your sweet spot. You take the piercing between your teeth and give it a gentle tug and start rolling your fingers over the other side.

You watch as the man starts bobbing up and down, from tip to base he takes Rafayel’s cock over and over.. You swear you can see the outline of Rafayel’s cock in his throat. He starts groaning, the vibration sends Rafayel into a frenzy and you feel your orgasm crest. 

“I’m coming fuck fuck fuck… ahhhh yes Raf yes..”

You hear the man moan and look up to see Rafayel’s release leaking out of the sides of his mouth. That sight makes your climax so intense you worry you might blackout. You feel Rafayel start tapping your thigh and you quickly lift yourself away, he gasps for air but laughs as he relaxes. You crawl off of him and are mortified to see the couch around his head completely soaked, his face and hair drenched. But you can’t find a reason to care when he looks so pussy drunk.

The man stands and wipes at his lip with his thumb, you glance down at Rafayel’s cock and see not a drop of his release is left behind. This man really sucked him dry and cleaned up… impressive. Rafayel sits up and looks up at the man. 

“Debt is paid. See you next week, Rafayel.”

With that, he turns and leaves. You look at Rafayel and crawl onto his lap.

“I’m looking forward to hearing what that was about…”

You try to wipe his forehead with your wrist. 

“Leave it, I like  smelling like you.”

You slap his chest and he chuckles. He looks up to see there are still people waiting. 

“Still in the mood to experiment?”

You don’t even glance around, you just lock your arms around his neck and kiss his cheek.

“No, I want you to myself. I need to see if my mouth can make you whimper like that again.”

He glares at you and pinches your side. You try to wiggle away from him, but he grabs you and hauls you over to lay on top of him.

“I can promise you, when it’s your mouth, I’ll be so delirious I might speak another language entirely.”  

You kiss his nose. 

“That’s hot.”

He laughs and kisses your nose.

“Let’s get out of here, yea?”

You’ve basically lived at Rafayel’s apartment over Lemuria Studios for the past week. It’s closer to the Association and much nicer. Plus, waking up next to him is a great way to start your day. And being fucked senseless every night is definitely helping you sleep better. 

“You should go by your place after you get off work, pick up some clothes and shit.”

You put down your coffee and stare at him.

“I want you to be comfortable when you stay here.”

You stand up from the bar stool and walk around the kitchen island. He stops chopping vegetables to lean on the counter and look at you. His shirt hangs off your shoulders, the hem barely covering your ass. You run your hands down his chest, placing a kiss over his heart. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you press yourself against him. He rubs his hands over your back and rests his chin on your head. 

“I like changing into your clothes when I get off work. I like using your shower gel so I can smell like you. I like sleeping naked in your bed. I am more comfortable than I’ve ever been.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I want you wearing my clothes and sleeping naked…”

You feel his hands glide down your back and pull his shirt up over your ass. The cool air against your bare skin makes you shiver. He leans down to kiss your neck, his hands feeling the curve of your ass and diving lower between your legs.

“I just think you should have some of your own things, you know?”

“I’ll pick up a few things after work.”

His fingers press against the crotch of your panties and you shiver.

“When do you have to leave for work?”

You glance over his shoulder at the clock and smile. You giggle and grab onto his neck, keeping him close.

“About an hour…”

He plants his hands under your ass and lifts you up. He continues placing messy kisses to your neck as he walks you to his bedroom. 

“That should tide us over until tonight, yea?”

Work wasn’t boring, but you were itching to leave and head to your place. The more you thought about it the more excited you were to have your things at Rafayel’s place. You loved smelling like him, but your hair types are very different and his products are definitely not working for you. You planned your entire evening while working. Completing reports, canvassing Wanderer hotspots, scanning physical reports into the digital system - with every mind numbing task, you got closer and closer to the self-care date with yourself. 

When you open the door to your apartment you’re greeted with the scent of extremely ripe bananas. You forgot you’d gotten them the day before the party and now… You close your front door and drop your keys on the entry table. You enter the kitchen and stare at the bananas. As you poke at them, you have an idea. It’s been ages since you’ve baked banana bread, but your grandmother's recipe is a classic. You find the recipe book on your bookshelf and gather the supplies you need. But before you bake, you need “an everything shower.” Badly.

Your shower gel is more floral than Rafayel’s, which is refreshing. And your scalp is finally able to breathe with your products gently scrubbing away the buildup. Shaving takes forever, but it’s worth it, Rafayel’s silk sheets would feel like heaven against your skin tonight. You put on a face mask while moisturizing and dance around your kitchen in your underwear while you stack the ingredients for the banana bread on the counter

Once the bread is in the oven, you grab a small suitcase and start packing up a few essentials. The travel size versions of your hair care products, underwear, an extra work uniform, a set of pajamas - just in case - two casual outfits and your go-to little black dress. You throw the uniform you wore today in the washer into the dryer and go through your fridge in case anything went bad while you were gone. 

You’re setting the trash bag by the front door when you hear a muffled grunt. You press your ear to the door and hear more quiet groans and shuffling feet. You stand on your tiptoes and look through your peephole as quietly as possible. You see what looks like a white helmet and a purple jacket. They’re so close to your door you start to panic. You hear a knock at your door and you freeze.

“Cutie? Are you still here?”

Rafayel’s voice is muffled behind the door. You let out a sigh of relief and swing the door open, forgetting you’re only in your underwear. Rafayel is hunched over against the doorframe, the sleeves of his leather jacket are torn and the left leg of his cargo pants are shredded and bloody. 

“Shit! Rafayel what happened?!”

He tugs at his helmet but can’t get it off. You push his hands away and unhook the straps to pull the helmet off his head. His face is pale and he’s drenched in sweat, but he still smirks when he sees you.

“Damn… what a welcome.”

“Shut the fuck up…”

You lift one of his arms and wrap it around your shoulder. You carefully help him walk into your apartment, kicking the door closed behind you. 

You help him sit down on the couch and drag your coffee table closer to elevate his leg. The fabric is almost completely torn away from his skin and you can see the dirt and gravel stuck in his wounds. You help him remove his gloves and jacket, carefully inspecting his arm to see if there’s any wounds you haven’t seen. You tug his damp t-shirt off and look for any cuts. Bruises are already starting to darken over his ribcage. 

You rush through your room to the bathroom to get a first aid kit and a few towels. You toss your face mask in the trash and put on your robe, haphazardly tying the belt at your waist. When you return Rafayel has his head back on the cushion with his eyes closed. 

“Raf? You with me?”

He opens his eyes and smiles weakly. He tries to sit up, but clutches his side with a grimace.

“Rafayel, you need a doctor.”

He shakes his head, but keeps a hand pressed over his ribcage. 

“It’s not that serious, trust me. I just need it cleaned up. I’m sorry I just showed up like this…”

“Rafayel…”

“I’ll get checked out when my doctor gets back in town. I promise.”

You rub your forehead and reach to turn on another light. You place the first aid kit on the coffee table and rush to the kitchen to grab a glass and a bowl of water. You hand Rafayel the glass, set the bowl down and sit down in front of him. 

“Drink that.”

He doesn’t argue, he drinks the water slowly while he watches you work. You dip a towel in the water and gently try to clean the dirt and gravel out of his wound. He winces, but doesn’t struggle. You start putting a bit more pressure to see where the deeper cuts are and he groans. You look up at him and he has his eyes closed tightly. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

You continue cleaning the wound until it looks clear of debris. You shake a can of antiseptic spray, squinting your eyes at him as he shrugs.

“I crashed, no biggie.”

You grit your teeth and spray a more than generous amount on his leg. His leg shakes and he curses under his breath. He reaches for your hand and takes the can, chucking it across the room.

“Enough! I.. I think it’s clean…”

You flash him a smirk and grab a roll of gauze to start wrapping his leg. 

“I haven’t crashed in a long time, but these things happen. I’m okay.”

You continue wrapping his leg in silence. The feeling he is hiding something ripping into you like a knife. This is a serious injury, he could have lost his leg or worse. He’s a careful driver, you know that. So what caused him to crash? You finally look at the helmet on the floor next to the couch. The white paint on the side is scraped and you can see a thin crack along the visor. But what catches your eye is the intricate red design on the front. 

“Nice helmet.”

“Thank you. I don’t get to wear it often. Guess it’ll be retiring until I get it fixed up, huh?”

You nod. He leans forward and grabs your hands.

“I know it looks bad, but I’ve had worse. Come on, look at me, please?”

Just as you meet his gaze his phone rings. He grabs his jacket on the couch and digs his phone out. His gentle smile drops when he sees the caller. 

“I need to take this, I’m sorry.”

He lifts his leg and tries to stand up, but you push him back.

“I’ll go, you need to keep your leg elevated.”

You walk to your room, closing the door behind you. Holding the handle, you don’t let the lock click. You wait until you hear a hushed “hello” before pulling the door open a crack. You press your ear as close to the opening as possible. Rafayel’s voice is hushed.

“I need to know their name.”

“No, I know. I know. I’d never seen them before.”

“I don’t give a fuck, they almost got Ryūō caught. Cops knew which bike to follow.”

Your eyes widen at the mention of cops. Who is Ryūō? Is that really a name?

“Yea, they caused my crash. No, Zayne’s out of town. Of course I’m not at the hospital, I’m not a fucking idiot. I’m okay, seriously, I need to focus on Ryūō.”

Zayne?! As in your childhood friend, the head of cardiology? That Zayne? Is he Rafayel’s primary physician too? Why can’t Rafayel go to the hospital?

“I want a name by the end of the night, put any expenses on my card.”

“No, don’t say anything. I’ll set up the next meeting and fill everyone in.”

“Yeah, fuck… Okay, have Ryūō call me.”

You’re tempted to swing the door open and confront him immediately, but your brain is swimming with theories. 

“Cutie? You can come out now!”

You open the door slowly. Your eyes narrow and you glare at him from across the room. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and your stomach tightens. As you approach him, he shifts uncomfortably, your gaze finally unsettling him. Just as you sit down to finish treating his leg, his phone rings again.

“Is that Ryūō?”

He looks up from his phone, his expression darkens. You don’t leave, instead you continue wrapping his leg and sit in silence while his phone continues to ring. Finally, he answers it.

“Hey.”

“No, doc’s out of town. I’m okay. It could have been worse.”

“Where’d you stash your bike?”

“No no no, I’ll send someone to get it. Keep your head down for a few days.”

“I’m looking into it.”

“He put down Onryō so I’m guessing it’s personal. Could be you, could be me, or both. I’ll have more info by the end of the night.”

Onryō? As in the Japanese yokai? You remember reading about popular yokai’s before your vacation to Japan after you graduated college. You recall they are ghosts who hyperfocus on vengeance. Their passion could be born out of jealousy or hatred. Does he think this person is trying to hurt him and this Ryūō person? Now Ryūō makes more sense. Another yokai.

“Sy, I am asking you not to look into it. It’ll get too messy if you get involved.”

Who is Sy?

“I know what you can do and I am asking you not to do anything. Please. I will call you as soon as I know anything.”

He hangs up and tosses it on the couch. He covers his face with his hands and groans, running his hands through his hair before looking up to stare at you.

“Go on, ask.”

You secure the gauze with tape. Picking up a new towel, you dip it in the water and squeeze out the excess before moving to sit next to him. You wipe his face and he relaxes, you continue down his chest. 

“I’m pretty good at puzzles. So… I think I pieced most of it together.”

“Do tell.”

You feel his fingers trace your jaw. You pause and look at him.

“Bikes, cops, code names, someone is messing with you or whoever Ryūō is. My educated guess… Racing?”

He looks down at his leg, his brows furrow.

“Am I wrong?”

He sighs and looks at you again.

“Spot on.”

“So can you tell me what really happened now?”

He pulls the towel out of your hand and pulls you to him. You lean against the couch, careful not to put any pressure on his ribs. Once you settle, he takes a deep breath.

“I’ve been a part of the racing scene for a few years. Ryūō and I started around the same time. Now, we’ve become leaders… kind of? We’re used to having targets on our backs. So we’re careful about bringing new people onto the scene. Today, we held an open race to test the waters and it bit us in the ass.”

“Onryō? You mean?”

“Yeah... They signed in and before the race even started, cops rolled up. They targeted Ryūō and he pulled off the race to pull the cops away from us. That’s when the prick kicked me off my bike on a turn and I fucked up my leg.”

“So you have people looking for this Onryō person, what will happen when they find them?”

“My people will call me. And I’ll deal with it.”

You cross your arms and glare at him.

“And how will you, “deal with it” exactly?”

Rafayel tosses his head back on the couch and closes his eyes.

“I can’t tell you that, cutie, you know that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am not going to put your job on the line. You have a duty to report this kind of thing, right? The less I say the better.”

“So Ryūō and Sy, they’re the same person, right?”

Your question makes Rafayel sit up straight, he turns to you and grabs your shoulders tightly.

“Drop it. Please.”

“No. You came to my door, bleeding and bruised and you’re expecting me to just ignore whatever shit you’re into that caused all this? Really Rafayel?”

His grip tightens.

“You’re not getting hurt because of me.”

You reach up to hold his face in your hands. Your thumbs brushing under his eyes.

“I’m a hunter, I am good at taking care of myself. I’m not afraid of whatever it is you’re involved in, but what I am afraid of is you getting hurt.”

He leans into your touch, his cheeks warming and his pale skin starts to flush.

“I know you’re able to protect yourself, but these people… They’re different. They play by a different set of rules and I don’t want you to risk your job or your safety for me.”

“That’s my choice.”

He huffs out a laugh and leans his forehead against yours.

“I know, I just… fuck…”

You kiss his nose affectionately and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. You curl up beside him, pressing your face into his neck.

“Let me choose you.”

He rubs your back and your body relaxes next to him.

“So…”

He kisses the top of your head and hums encouraging you to continue. 

“What’s your name? Like your racing name?”

He chuckles and leans back, tucking you into his side. You rest your head on his shoulder.

“Kiko.”

You close your eyes, it seems all the racers pick a yokai as their code name. You try to remember the lore behind Kiko. 

“That’s a type of Kitsune, right? A holy fox? No, spirit fox!”

“Yep.”

You shift so you can look up at him. 

“I thought you’d pick something ocean related like… Kōjin or Tatsu?”

“A biker with an oceanic racer alias, purple hair and brightly colored Kawasaki?”

“Oh…”

“Yea, I don’t need cops breathing down my neck at the studio. So I chose something, I guess, that fit my personality?”

“You relate to a fox, huh?”

“Curious, playful, intelligent. Yea, I think so.”

“They’re also very loud if they don’t get love and affection.”

Rafayel nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, you giggle, swatting at him to sit up.

“I guess it’s an accurate description then.” 

You look down at his helmet and squint. The white base and red lines around the eyes and at the center.

“Ohhh… that explains your helmet!”

“Yeah, usually I wear a white leather jacket but I was in a rush today.”

“You don’t race the blue bike you’ve been driving me around on, do you?”

“No, I have a different bike for races. Different colors and fake plates.”

You sit up, cross your legs and face him. 

“Take me with you.”

His eyes widened in surprise.

“Like, on a ride?”

You smile, a wicked gleam in your eye.

“On a race.”

He stares at you, his mouth open and eyes unblinking. You stare back, your smile unwavering. 

“You realize it’s illegal, right?”

You nod.

“And dangerous?”

You nod.

“And you might –”

You slap a hand over his mouth. He chuckles, the vibrations tickling your hand.

“I know the risks. I want to see more of your world. Especially when mine is so… blah…”

“Hmm mmh mmh hmm huh mhm!” He mumbles, trying to speak to you through your hand.

You move your hand away and pinch his cheek. He grabs your hand and holds it tight.

“You fight Wanderers for a living! That’s not ‘blah��!”

“Fine. I want to see more of your world because I…”

You look down at your lap, trying to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks. He grabs your chin and lifts your face to meet his gaze. 

“Because what, cutie?”

“Because I hope I can be a part of it…”

He plants his hands on your waist and lifts you, plopping you down on his lap. His hands hold onto your ass and he pulls you closer. It’s at this moment you realize you’re still not wearing any pants and the rough fabric of his cargo pants rubbing against your nearly bare pussy makes you twitch. You grab onto his shoulders and try to lift yourself off his lap.

“Your leg!”

“It’s fine, stop squirming.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh and shift your knees wider to properly straddle him. He squeezes your ass and rubs his hands down your thighs. You run your hands down his chest and start to play with his nipple rings, which earns you a deep groan. He takes the hint and stops teasing you.

“I want you to be a part of my life, but it’s a complicated one. Are you sure?”

You wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers through his hair. You lean forward and place a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Show me a whole new world, Aladdin.”

He chuckles and bites his lip as he looks up at you.

“My dick is not a magic carpet, but I will take you for a ride.”

You slap his chest and try not to laugh.

“You’re so stupid…”

He seizes the opportunity, with your hands on his chest, to grab your face and pull you to him. He kisses you until you can barely breath, your worries fade. You’re not sure what you’re getting yourself into, but you’re sure of one thing - Rafayel has made you feel more alive in the past week than you’ve felt in years. And you’re going to chase this feeling, for as long as possible.

Rafayel finally lets you breathe and you smell something burning. He scrunches his nose and you sniff the air, trying to determine what it could be. Your eyes widen and you scramble to crawl off of Rafayel’s lap.

“My banana bread!”

(AN Part 2: Surprise! It's also a crowfish fic. Smile.)

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname

[itzy-bitsy-spidey]

"Hedgehog, porcupine, it's the same thing (pt.5)"

or "Something made a hole in my backyard pt.5"

Shadow the Hedghog x reader (platonic)

Notes: I finally have connection again!!! This part feels a little of to me but anyway, leave a comment if you want to be in the taglist or leave a comment if you liked it! ENJOY!

Part 4.

It happened so fast that you could barely process it, the creature looked at the room, then at you, then at the window and in a red flash it disappeared.

For only a fraction of a second, because as soon as it disappeared it appeared right back, but now besides your bedroom's window.

It fell to the floor with a thud and you swore you heard it say something.

But that would be ridiculous, animals don't talk.

"What the fu-?" You didn't even finished your question when the thing turned around to look at you.

The room was silent. Everything felt like it was made of very thin glass, and any sudden move coul shatter it all.

You crouched.

You didn´t know if you wanted to make yourself less intimidating or if you just wanted to be able to protect your hole body in case it tried to move again.

And so, you both just looked at each other. It was really the first time you had stopped to look at the creature so closely.

It´s eyes were red, but not just any red, they were crimson like blood on the outer part of the iris with a warmer fire-like red on the center. It had fur which looked super soft covering all of it´s body, but there was something like spikes coming out of it´s head.

Yeahhh, you knew what animal it reminded you of...

"Hey there" you said softly as not to scare it.

"Who are you and where am I?" the creature demanded more than asked.

"Holy shit, you can TALK!!??"

"Where am I? Did G.U.N sent you?" It had now started to get on it´s feet and speak louder, though it still seemed as in pain.

Everything about what was happening felt kind of surreal to you, one thing a little more than anything else.

"Why do you sound like Keanu Reeves?"

"Is that another agent? I will kill you in seconds if you don´t answer my questions" It furrowed something that you assumed were his eyebrows.

But between everything that was happening you suddenly lost balance in your crouching position, and fell on your back. When you managed to sit on the floor you found yourself with the sight of the alienish creature which had also fallen flat on it´s bottom, presumably trying to protect itself from you.

So then you were both sitting in the ground.

"I think we might have gotten off on the wrong foot" you started to say, as calmly as you could. "I´m not here to hurt you, you were the one who crashed on my backyard".

It kept on looking at you as if you were going to attack it at any moment, so you decided to give him something more, you told him your name.

"Shadow" It... He answered back, though it felt more as an attempt to get you to shut up than anything. More time passed in silence.

And so you got up, and left.

Shadow just sat there, slightly confused, but soon enough he weakly got on his feet and turned towards the window. He tried to give a step, but all of his muscles ached at it. He felt helpless. He hated feeling helpless, it reminded him of the cryo tube he was kept in for fifty years.

His efforts did not last too long either, as he felt two warm hands pick him up from under his armpits and sit him back down on the bed. Even though he slightly hissed at the pain and tried to fight back his efforts were usless and he found himself comfortably sat against the cushions.

You smiled at him and apologized for any discomfort that you may had caused, then you offered him a pastry (your aunt Maddie had brought them for tea).

He picked one up, and after a troughout examination, which to you kind of looked as a cat smelling something to see if it was food or not, he actually took a bite.

It was actually nice, and it had a slight bitter taste to it.

"So... are you some kind of porcupine?"

"I´m a hedghog and the ultimate life form" He answered back with still looking angry, but his voice had slightly less bite to it. You smiled kindly back as you held back a laugh.

"Hedghog, porcupine, it´s the same thing."

Taglist:@boogiemansbitch@vxllys@whoisgami@baby-bloos@sapphireravensworld@mothmanperson@4rm-the-mf-concrete@eliknowsnothing

[mer-acle]

The little barn owl shook herself and blinked up at Hera with unmistakable pride in her still grey eyes. Hera smiled. "There you go. Good job. It'll be much easier transforming from now on, I promise." Athena tilted her head, then chirped softly before gingerly hopping toward the other goddess. Hera could barely hold back a chuckle. Athena's animal form matched her god-form, still young, still childlike. A fledgling with downs breaking through her feathers. Athena spread her wings slightly as she hopped onto Hera's lap, and the older goddess could tell she was quite satisfied with this form. She carefully reached out to scratch the owl' chin. Athena made an almost purring noise and this time, Hera did laugh. "You're so fluffy, little one," she said gently. "I want to squeeze you and never let you go." Athena chirped in protest, then hopped over to Hera's arm, carefully making her way up to her shoulder, more careful with her talons than you would have expected from a child. Hera got up from where she had been kneeling, giving her stepdaughter the higher vantage point she clearly wanted. Athena settled on her arm, almost absent-mindedly preening a strand of Hera's hair. For a moment, Hera felt a surge of well-known anger. You take to your animal forms so quickly, Metis had observed back in the day, I suppose it is because you've already learned to adapt a new form once. She pushed the thought away, deciding to be happy her stepdaughter instinctually took to being an owl rather than mad about the why. The younger goddess made a hooting sound, fluttering her wings almost accusingly. Hera smiled at her. "Alright then, my little fledgling," she said. "Do you want to fly?"

(yes I am aware my owl sounds are off, leave me alone)

For context, my hc is that transforming into your animal form for the first time is kinda difficult and a little painful bc your body has to figure out how to rearrange itself first, so naturally, Hera didn't leave Athena alone for it.

[sacrificiallane]

leaving him alone with your plushies ۶ৎ percy jackson blurb

cw: nothing, really. it‘s just very fluffy ♡ & very short, and a slight little mention of past 'activities', but you'll miss it if you squint so eh. enjoy!

the scream you let out was equally hilarious as it was terrifying. and it had your pretty boyfriend ― of who was the sole reason for such a sound even escaping your vocal cords in the first place ― literally smack into your cabins' door like a bird would against a window.

"you okay? are you hurt? you okay??" Percy came running like your life was on the line.

before you could offer an answer, his hands were already reaching for your arm, your hand ― basically anything ― to make sure you were okay. "talk to me pretty girl, hm? what happened?"

"Perseus Jackson" and yea, he might've just flinched a little at your tone, but his hands did not fall away quite yet, "what did you do to my bed?"

"uh, what did i do to your..." the confusion was evident, until his sea green eyes followed your own, all the way to your sheets and it suddenly ― thankfully! ― all made sense...

when Percy was left by you this morning, the boy was so bored! so, in his typical bored boyfriend fashion, he had taken the time to arrange your beloved stuffed animals to recreate a ... slightly 'gruesome' scene. because after fluffing out your pillows, and folding your blanket, he was only left with turning your plushies from facing the wall...

then, though ― his genius mind was unstoppable! ― he had come face to face with the plush he'd gotten you for your birthday! (a cute octopus plushie in your favorite color, and maybe a bit too big for your small cabin bed... especially when he was sharing it with you). and maybe it was sleepy delusion, but he had made up this whole scenario of how the gifted giant sea creature was basically your child!

Percy admits, he might have gotten a little carried away, staring at its big button eyes, and thinking about how it was probably so jealous of all your other fuzzy friends.

so, he explains, he had used each of it's fluffy tentacles, to wrap them around each of your other plushes, to make it look like he was trying to murder them! not that it was rally scary, or anything. just a little cruel, maybe.

when he tells you about it, and smiles a bit sheepish, you feel equally flattered as you feel horrified! he can only watch with endeared amusement as you quickly detangle all of your emotional support stuffies, push a kiss to their heads ― as though they were scared or hurt ― and put them each back where they belonged.

"i love you Perseus, but gods are you dumb..."

"love you too, pretty girl."

something a little different? i needed some fluff. i miss him. saw this in a tiktok so credit to that, ig? should i write a smutty blurb about what happened before this? like Percy rearranging your guts and turning your plushies to face the wall because he's all like 'nuh uh, you do not wanna see me do this to your mom'. or is that weird? 😔 (i'll probably do it anyway, you can't stop me!)

[lu-is-not-ok]

Hi! I was wondering what your thoughts were on the relationship between Hong Lu and Xichun. Namely (if I'm interpreting this correctly), how much he seems to care for her well-being. This has been nagging me since Canto 7 but he was so insistent on her being careful or joining up with him. Like you can tell how bothered he was. And HL, while often repeating some form of "my family sucks" doesn't usually let it linger? He makes a joke and moves on. I haven't heard anyone talking about it but this is the first time HL has shown care towards any of his family, even if later he is all "yeah if she dies, she dies, oh well". You're not fooling anyone, you.

You're right on the money with that one! When Hong Lu calls Xichun his 'most amicable sibling', I believe he's very much being truthful about that. Because while yes, she's rude and tends to do everything in her power to push him away, there are small moments that show that their care for each other is in fact mutual.

After all, she herself even points out that if it was any other sibling he ran into, he would have already been taken out. But Xichun doesn't do that. She doesn't kill him, or try to capture him, even though she's clearly aware that their Family is actively looking for him.

In a way, she's similar to Hong Lu in that she's never entirely straightforward with how she feels about things. She often puts on some sort of facade to hide the true meaning of her words, just in her case it's a mask of hostility, likely to defend herself in her position.

There's two moments in particular I feel that exemplify this by alluding to how Xichun actually feels towards Hong Lu, beneath her anxieties and prey animal rage.

The first one is this.

I've already gone at length about this scene from Hong Lu's perspective, how the thought of being an embarrassment to someone else in his Family causes him to shut down and default to trying to nod along and speed through the conversation as fast as possible. However, I think Xichun's response here is likewise notable.

Because she almost immediately backs up. It feels almost as if she's lamenting that he's still dealing with such situations as badly as he did back at home, and after giving one more 'jab' (one that you could even read as a backhanded form of assurance that she is in fact safe for him to be around), she takes the hint and ends the conversation.

The second one is the exchange that leads to them parting ways.

This is perhaps the most obvious Xichun has ever been about her own worries for Hong Lu. She's very visibly showing concern and outright anxiety over the thought that Hong Lu isn't taking things seriously and putting himself in danger. And then I believe she realized why that is.

If you've seen any of my analyses and theories, you know that I'm a firm believer that Hong Lu lied about the reason why he left the Jia household, and that in reality he's a runaway. This moment here is I believe the moment Xichun realizes that he ran away as well, and as such his goal is completely different from hers. As Hong Lu himself later states, "The path diverges, and we must each take the other trail."

After that exchange she continues to show concern for him, if somewhat indirectly.

I don't think she's saying this just to give advice on what Donqui/Sancho might be feeling at the moment. I believe she's implying that she's recognising that Hong Lu himself might be or at some point have been in a similar situation, and is thus attempting to empathize with him. Hong Lu's response here feels like he's taken the hint and is confirming it, clearly speaking from a much more personal place and experience.

And then, of course, is the moment they split up.

Another one of Xichun's backhanded assurances. She might sound rude here, but the essence of what she's saying is clear here. She will come back for him and maybe even support him.

So, yeah! Hong Lu not only cares about Xichun, but has every reason to! She's clearly one of the few Family members he has that actually seems to care about him in return! Even if it is buried underneath her harsh demeanor.

And regarding the one scene you bring up, well, I might as well repeat my own full interpretation of it now that we've gained more insight into Hong Lu after the check-up intervallo.

Note how Hong Lu directly interrupts Gregor here. I believe Hong Lu here is reacting very emotionally, effectively snapping at Gregor for what he implied. Part of it I believe is the implication that the death of a loved one would hold any substantial meaning to Hong Lu, something he is extremely philosophically opposed to due to viewing all kinds of death as meaningless.

But the other part of it is, well, that the thought of someone he loved dying in front of his eyes brings up memories he doesn't want to acknowledge. So he snaps back with as straightforward an answer as he can come up with so as to not give himself the time to dwell on the idea. Because it sure is suspicious he has yet to mention the one other person in his household that is ought to be very amicable towards him, no?

[kravinoffswife]

Room 87 - J. Todd x fem!reader༊*·˚

Fandom: DC

Summary: [y/n] receives a message from Jason telling her to pay him a visit and she can't resist.

Content warnings: a bit angsty, suggestive, some touching, reader is AFAB

A/N: First time writing a oneshot, I hope it's not horrible.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Come over.

These two words stared at [y/n], the illumination from her phone screen blinding in the otherwise dark room. She squinted at the message as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning. He had to be drunk, Jason never contacted her sober, the inverse was also true. It had been a year and a half since they had broken it off. Since then, they had seen each other every other month. It was a cycle, really. She'd drown herself in cheap cocktails and the touches of strangers to try and distract herself from what she really wanted - the feeling of his lips on her neck, his cock in her cunt. It was rather counter-intuitive; her alcohol fueled benders always ended up with her splayed out in Jason's bed.

She groaned and looked at the message again, her mind rattling off reasons as to why she should ignore it. She continued to give the more logical side of her brain center-stage as hopped into the shower, shaved, massaged the scented body lotion that she knew drove Jason crazy into her skin, picked an utterly devious set of underwear, put on a contrastingly tame outfit, applied her favourite lip gloss and left the house.

Her journey to the address he had sent was trance-like. She saw each street-name, each dingy apartment block, stray animals and strange people that reminded [y/n] that Gotham had a bit of a crime problem, but nothing seemed to actually register until she got to her destination.

It was a motel that was somewhere between decent and semi-nice. For Jason, this was shelling out. He was a very practical man, not willing to splurge on luxuries. She entered through the slightly weathered front doors, the clean smell of citrus and patchouli hitting her as soon as she crossed the threshold. The woman at the desk surveyed her, hot-pink lips chewing fervently on a wad of gum.

"Evening, lovely." Her tone was friendly and inviting. "How can I help you?"

"I'm visiting someone in room 87."

The receptionist looked at her knowingly, her periwinkle eyes sparkling with mischeif.

"Third floor." She smirked. "Gum?" She held out a stick of spearmint gum and winked. [y/n] took a piece gratefully.

"Have fun!" ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The elevator dinged once she had reached the third floor. [y/n]'s knuckles had barely grazed the door when it swung open. Jason's large hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her inside. He kicked the door shut.

"Hey" He rasped.

"Hey" She said quietly into his chest.

"I missed you."

"Mhm" She inhaled his musky scent. "I'm guessing you haven't just missed my stellar conversation"

"No, not just that."

She played with the hem of his shirt. Jason was not as playful and tugged her shirt over her head in one swift movement. She squealed as her skin was greeted by the cold air. Jason had a tendency to have the AC turned up. She shivered a bit.

"Cold, baby?" She nodded. He chuckled and ran a finger along her collarbone. "I'll get you all warmed up in no time."

She moaned at what he was alluding to. Her fingers dropped from his shirt to his belt buckle. As she did so, his lips captured hers in a kiss. There was no romance, only pure desire. He pushed her up against the wall. His hands ran through her hair, turning it into a mess of curls, something that she would ultimately tell him off for doing later as she had gone to the salon that very morning. She moaned when she finally got his pants off. She cupped his length through his boxers; rock hard. This only seemed to get her wetter and erode her willpower further. She bit his bottom lip and sucked on it gently. Jason groaned. Such a pretty sound. She wanted to make him do it again.

He pulled away from her, breath slightly ragged from the intensity of their union.

"You're too dressed for this, baby." He spoke against her neck, peppering the perfumed skin with rough kisses.

"Could say the same about you."

"Why don't we fix that, huh?" He took off his fitted black tee, revealing his sculpted torso, strong chest and wide shoulders. Although, she had seen his body several times, [y/n] couldn't help but gasp. She ran her fingers along the dips of his abdomen before settling back on his chest, her thump swiping over the raised skin of one of his many scars. Jason unclipped her bra and helped her out of her pants. He eyed her hungrily and his hands moved lower.

"You're so perfect." He mused as he kneaded her ass. "I love you."

"Love you more." She responded without any hesitancy. It was going to be a long night.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[muovipalikka]

Headcanons in fic form #4

Gideon must have been the unluckiest humanoid on Avantris. He had thought he left it all behind him the day he escaped the train, but here he was in his new life getting plagued by old wounds.

"When we get back to camp I can give you some ointment for under the manacles. Ain't nothing that can't fix, or so I've heard." Kremy told Gid trying to sound casual as if he had just heard it somewhere. And hadn’t consulted an apothecary.

That had been the first time Kremy had tried to get his manacles off. It was a couple months back, and he still wouldn't shut up about it.

"Gid, I can see the rashes from way over here!"

Gideon was quiet. He was unsure about letting Kremy’s claws so close. What would Kremy do after seeing his weak spots? Would he abandon Gideon, thinking he wasn’t capable enough for the job or would he use the knowledge as bargaining chips?

"Please just let me put a bit of grease under there. I promise no funny business." As a sign of peace, Kremy even left his cane where he had been sitting opposite Gideon, on the other side of the campfire. Gideon let him get closer, and Kremy approached him as if he were a scared animal. After sitting beside him, Kremy carefully laid a hand on his manacle.

"You already did your time, no reason to stay locked up." In retrospect, Kremy shouldn’t have said that. Gid hadn’t been a prisoner. He hadn’t done anything deserving of time spent on the train. But the words had soothed Gid back then. No matter how incorrect Kremy’s assumptions had been. Or how much he had beat himself up for what he’d implied.

"Now Gid, tell me. Can you get these off?"

Gid nodded slightly and looked at Kremy suspiciously, but he started opening the mechanism. Kremy just sat next to him, waiting patiently. He could see the torn skin, dry, angry, and inflamed. He winced theatrically, hiding the tears and genuine care.

When the manacle was finally off Kremy took his arm and held it like a tiny fragile thing. Gideon didn't know what to do with himself. He just looked at Kremy's golden eyes pleadingly. Hoping that he won't use this to hurt him.

Kremy took out an unopened tube of hand cream still in the box. It was clearly meant for humanoids with higher body temperatures. But Gideon didn’t think to question it. He was trying to pick a favorite between the cool cream appeasing his skin and Kremy's hands. Kremy was careful of his claws. Not letting them hurt Gideon’s fragile skin.

Gideon was glad he had trusted Kremy. After a few weeks, they didn’ hurt no more. Kremy even put some fabric between the skin and the manacles to lessen the irritation.

Kremy knew Gid was a stubborn bastard, but he also knew that the genasi undervalued himself. And this was undoubtedly the latter. Gid would never just ask for the ointment. He would even try to hide the skin inflaming and getting worse. Until Kremy ultimately caught him again. Which is why they had a little ritual. Each time Gid woke him for his watch Kremy would sit with him by the campfire. Early on he had made up excuses “Gid I’m so tired. You need to sit with me so I can wake up properly!” “I need you to light my cigarette Gid.” Little excuses to make way for “Well, since we now have a little time. I can check your wrists now,”

Now they just quietly sneak back to the campfire. Kremy would take care of him. Soothe his aches and hold him gently without a need for excuses. And Gideon knew he was the luckiest humanoid in all of Avantris.

Headcanons in fic form #1 #2 #3

[shakethediseeas]

ALIEN STAGE CHARACTERS WITH AN ALIEN READER

alien stage x reader

maybe ill make more (ivan, hyuna and sua)

CHAFACTERS: TILL, LUKA, MIZI

On your 15th birthday your parents decided to give you a planet as a gift, they took over and made a stage to keep you entertained! its so fun! its humans trying to survive by performing music you've never heard of before.

One day, you decide to visit the garden to take one for yourself and when you saw that figure running by, you knew you want that one.

heads turned at the sound of children going 'woah' as you twirl and walk past them, looking at them as if they were animals in a zoo. two aliens behind you as you keep searching and start getting frustrated-- no one was appealing for you.

just when you were about to turn and head home to complain you finally spot one. they were running after someone with flowers in their hand, and more kids chasing after them.

they stopped when the kid bumped into you, and it went silent. They fell to the floor as you brushed your outfit clean of their filth before pointing down at them.

"i want this one."

to take them of the joy and friends they had in here didnt really matter to you. to you its like picking an animal from a shelter, bringing them to a better home where the only one they would rely on would be you.

that smile you saw before you picked them no longer existed. They were quiet and nervous of getting any negative reaction out of you which only made you mad but you had to be patient with them in order for them to be happy!

'first few months'

how come these humans dont come with a manual because this human was shattering things in rage when they thought you werent home and they hide in a corner so they dont get caught.

You heard of their behavior problems before picking them up, but you didn't care as long as you got to see that smile they had—but since they weren't smiling, you'd have to fix that.

you took Till to visit the garden for a bit, even though your guards were against the idea but who were they to tell you what to do?

He was so happy—the happiest he's ever been since you took him away. When you came to pick him up, he shyly asked if he could ever visit again, to which you nodded.

'you werent THAT bad' is what he thought after you gifted him a custom guitar. you noticed he played with an imaginary one so you decided to build trust and gift him a fancy new electric guitar!

and you still took him constantly to see his friends even though he heard you being scolded for it, that fake argument made him feel more appreciated.

'a few years later'

he jumps to sit down on your bed before demanding to visit a friend who was with their owner, you half listen, too busy painting your nails and kicking your feet in concentration.

mid rant you push the nail polish to his face and say "paint my nails first then ill think about it"

and he does so with a red face.

'first few monthd'

you were pretty sure you were speaking their language so why the hell was this human just staring off into space while drool escaping its mouth. you recoil in disgust and start regretting your decision a bit.

it took you a lot of patience and time to figure out what he likes, you ended up spending a lot of coin on the human for him to at least look at you with stupid big eyes.

you had to spoon feed luka unless you wanted him to starve to death, he couldnt sleep or change properly without you there glaring at him before reluctantly helping him.

you suppose it was okay, if he relied on you too much that would mean he couldn't really leave you, you were in charge.

'.....' though you wished he was a bit more vocal, you thought about it for a long time, if he didnt have the brain capacity to say a nice thank you maybe he could sing for you.

so he did. you bought him whatever you deemed necessary, and he sometimes mentioned another small thing and u gave it to him.

'a few years later'

you dont know why he wanted to sing for anyone else other than you but you allowed it. ever since you took him to see the stage in the VIP section he finally voiced out 'i want to do this' well not really but his face said it.

you get back home, a bit tired and hes tailing behind you as always. you land on the bed exhausted before flicking your hand in the air to signal him 'sing me a song'

after hes done he asks if you requested anything else, noting how tired you looked. but you just shook your head and tell him do whatever you want.

what you didnt expect him to hug you from behind. you couldnt see his face but youd assume its that blank face as always. only he knew that you were wrong.

it was face of pure adoration, a face that said 'you will never leave me' and he held tighter before saying to himself 'im in charge'

oh how you jumped around excitedly at this well behaved human! so sweet, like a cherry, they tried to have a conversation with you by asking "do you like making flower crowns?"

of course you havent who those this human think you are? but instead of saying something like that you shake your head and deny, before asking if they would teach you.

you make flower crowns with Mizi. you demanded to your guards any flowers she would ask for and bring batches of them to her before saying 'where do we start?'

shes happy at first but then you notice that she starts looking a bit sad, you ask her whats wrong and she looks at you with big eyes and says "when will i see my friends again?"

oh well with that sweet face how could you not take her to see her friends every day. and with a big smile she cheers and every day she makes new flower crowns or crafts for them.

'a few years later'

you start thinking 'maybe i spoiled her too much. maybe listening to her every request was a bad idea' as you cross your arms, on your custom designed chair in the center of the audience, the VIP section.

you stare as shes almost shot down by soldiers. you stare as shes taken away from you. you stare at the 'MISSING' message with her face plastered on it.

of course, you knew where she was. you had a tracker on all your pets. but for some reason, you let her run around. it wont be long until she realizes she wont have anyone left anymore.

it wont be long till she realizes she has no one else but you.

[sweetcarrotsandroses97]

~ Loud Silence | 1 | JJK

Pairing: Doctor! Jungkook x Assistant! Fem! Reader

Summary: Your life was grey. Just like his thoughts, like his emotions, like his memories. And you ignored it all, the pain, the sadness, the unbearable silence... All because your heart told you to stay when your mind screamed at you to get away from the drowning force of Jungkook's obsession.

Warnings: ANGST, employer x employee, patients in a coma, medical terms, detachment, low self-esteem, diseases, symptoms, death, Jungkook is married, fluff?, yearning, child neglect? (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2.6k words

A/N: Chapter 1 is here, darlings! I am so excited for this story and I hope you will like it as well. I'll do my best to keep updates as fast as I can but please be patient with me.

Let me know your thoughts in the comments, darlings! I'd love to hear from you!

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

“Remember you have your fencing practice after your chinese lessons today. They were all moved an hour as Mr. Min had an impromptu. Then you’ll have your piano lessons at five instead of four sharp.”

Your words were met with a boring sigh and an acknowledged hum. Ji-hoon was busy with today's study material you had given him that morning. He sat at his desk, hunched over the textbook while a YouTube tutorial of the math problem he was solving was paused on the large screen of his computer. 

“Thanks, (y/n)”

His reply was dry, monotonous. Your heart clenched but you kept your straight face. Adjusting your posture, you lowered your tablet with Ji-hoon’s updated schedule and looked around his big room. The bed was made to perfection, the books on the large shelves were cleaned and organised and the curtains that often covered the ceiling-tall windows were open and the view of the gardens could be appreciated if only the boy would turn around and admire nature. 

You turned around, ready to leave Ji-hoon to his studies. The sound of your heels on the white polished floors filled your ears. It was a sound that was too loud, or maybe the room was too quiet. Instead of Ji-hoon’s animated storytelling of his day, he sat in silence contemplating his assignments, instead of the big screen in his room playing some sport as background noise, the smart TV was off. You didn’t remember the last time he had even turned it on. 

“(y/n)?”

You stopped. It had been the first time in days, maybe even weeks or perhaps months, since Ji-hoon had called your name with emotion. With the lace of doubt and vulnerability in his words. 

You turned around and watched as he leaned back on his chair but looked at you with doubtful eyes. His hands fidgeted with the pen more than usual and your heart sank at how nervous he looked. 

You tilted your head to the right, a subtle movement that seemed to bring him out of the lake that drowned his thoughts in doubts. Ji-hoon took a deep breath and you waited until he spoke. You didn’t pressure him. You never did. You already knew how much pressure the boy had, the weight he carried on his shoulders was one no fourteen year old child should carry. 

“Did you ask him? What did my father say?”

You blinked. Staring at Ji-hoon with the same monotonous gaze he already got used to when looking into your eyes. 

“You already have everything you need here. Your father doesn’t believe that you going to school would benefit you in any way.”

Ji-hoon turned back to his desk, his eyes downwards. The grip on his pen loosened and it pained you how soft his voice sounded when he spoke again. 

“Of course he doesn’t.”

His mumbled words pierced your heart. You wished there was something you could do to help him. To ease his loneliness that stood rooted in his heart. But that choice was not yours to be made. And so, you tilted your chin up, your grip tightening on the tablet in your hands. 

“Your father knows what is best for you, Ji-hoon.”

But the boy just scoffed at your words. For he was not sure whether to feel sad or disappointed or angry or frustrated. For he felt it all at once. You didn’t linger. Your steps echoed once more on the polished floor as you left the room that was too big for a teenage boy alone. 

Once in the hallway, you leaned back against the closed door. It pained you to see Ji-hoon so helpless when it came to decisions that concerned his life, his experiences, his memories. But it pained you more, that it had not always been like this. 

There had been a time where he had smiled, where he had laughed. 

The household had been happier. And yet, now all it was left of that happiness was the shadow of laughter in the wind. 

You walked down the large hallway, the lights hanging on the walls illuminated your features, your steps were calculated; monotonous. The house was big but silent. Your heart was lonely yet it still yearned. The sunlight streamed through the tall windows and as you turned left to descend down the large staircase, you paused. 

Looking over your shoulder, you looked at the portrait of Ji-hoon and his father, renowned doctor and scientist, Jeon Jungkook. And yet the boy was the spitting image of his mother. With a sigh, you turned away and continued your journey down the stairs. The ground floor was just as silent as Ji-hoon’s room and with quiet professionalism, you walked to your right, going into Jungkook’s study. 

You didn’t look at Jungkook’s piling paperwork on the desk, you didn’t pay attention to the already filled bin by the chair that was mostly empty. You didn’t dare look at the portrait of her. Jungkook’s wife. It was a painting he had commissioned after they had gotten married. A piece of art that now hung over the dry fireplace.

Seo-yun. 

A name that was once a blessing of the household was now a curse. You didn’t look at her portrait. You didn’t have to. That painting that looked like a mosaic was engraved into your heart due to Jungkook’s melancholy when he gazed upon it. 

Instead, you walked to the very back of the room and into the door Ji-hoon was forbidden from ever entering.

The warmth of the empty house, the soft colours of the walls and the faint smell of books vanished when you crossed that door. The lights were white, blinding in their nature. The smell of chloride and antiseptic reached your senses. Your heels announced your presence as you entered Dr. Jeon’s private lab. 

He was aware of you before you uttered a word. Jungkook sat on one of the stools, his posture rigid as he looked into the microscope once more. 

“Sir, the conference this Friday has been cancelled. Doctor Kim called, his flight was delayed and he will not make it so the board decided to postpone the event.”

Jungkook looked up at you, his gaze met yours. Calculating and monotonous. The lab was in pristine condition. A sea of exams and samples were on the table, all labeled accordingly. And yet the whiteboard that hung over one of the walls was filled with loose handwriting. Notes, thoughts, symptoms, hypothesis… Jungkook’s mind was plastered on that board. An organised chaos. The eye of the storm of his subconscious. And the contrast was big. Between his wild mind and blank stare, it almost felt like falling down a rabbit hole of confusion where nothing was clear and nothing was known. 

“Very well. Is there anything else I need to know?”

You straightened, letting your hands fall to your sides holding the tablet with your right hand. His stare was intense, dark compared to his pale skin. It had been some time since he went outside and allowed the sun to kiss his skin. 

“No, sir. Everything’s on schedule.”

He hummed. It was a deep sound that reverberated through your spine and tingled your nerves. Jungkook went back to look down at the microscope with the same indifference he lived his daily life. His hands were firm when he adjusted the lenses, his jaw was tense while he scribbled away notes and observations on a notebook at his right. 

You wanted to speak, to ask him so many things. But you didn’t know how to start. You never knew if it was wise enough to start speaking with him. He was so volatile, so silently unpredictable. Your perfect, rigid posture sagged a bit as you let out an inaudible breath. The lab was quiet, too quiet. Just like Ji-hoon’s room. 

You hated it. 

You hated that silence that strangely calmed your mind as well. 

Jungkook changed the sample he was observing, his movements mechanical. The latex of his white gloves stretched as he flexed his fingers and he spoke without looking at you. 

“If you have something else to say, (y/n), do it and go. I have work to do.”

You swallowed, remembering all the times he had spoken softly to you, all the times he asked if you could assist him in any of his experiments. All the times you had felt seen by him. Jungkook may be your employer, your boss and perhaps you were just his assistant, his secretary and Ji-hoon’s caretaker. But you missed the times when you had been more; or at least when he had made you feel more than that. 

“Ji-hoon asked again, sir. He… keeps insisting on the idea of going to school.”

The doctor let out a deep sigh, almost in annoyance, in exasperation. It hurt to think that he saw his son like that. 

“He asked me to tell you to reconsider it. He is lonely, sir.”

Jungkook let go of his pen, the sound as it hit the notebook was dry and it almost echoed in the silent laboratory. He leaned back slightly, his eyes bored; nonchalant. But it took you a second, a single heartbeat for you to see the vulnerability behind his icy glare. 

“What should I do, (y/n)? Must I throw him into the world carelessly? If I do not make it, Ji-hoon will be the only remaining part of Seo-yun.”

Your gaze softened for right now, he was not the famous and brilliant doctor, he was a man whose heart had been broken by his own passion, by the hands of science. He was a father scared to lose his one and only son.

You took a step forward, intending on consoling him, advising him. But that single step brought him back from the dark pit that were his thoughts, his doubts. His walls rose, his eyes hardened and he straightened once more. And before he pushed you out completely, you spoke again. With that same professional voice, that delicate tone you always used when addressing him. 

“You are a man who would do anything for his family, I have witnessed it more than once. You are taking into account his safety, I’ll just ask you to consider his happiness as well, that’s all.”

Your eyes flickered to the glass wall. The only wall that separated the lab from the confinement area where Seo-yun lay. She was on oxygen, her slender frame as pale as ever. She lay still, unmoving. Barely breathing. Kept alive by the sleep Jungkook drowned her in. 

You didn’t linger. You couldn’t. So you turned away, not once looking back and missing Jungkook’s soft eyes as he watched your retreating form. You left him thinking, and that was something few had ever achieved.

The smell of cooked ricotta lasagna filled the spacious and minimalist kitchen. The warmth of the oven radiated towards you as you washed the used dishes. It didn’t take long for Ji-hoon to paddle into the kitchen, guided by the delicious smell of homemade food. 

“What are you making, (y/n)?”

He asked out of politeness, already knowing the answer. He sat down on one of the stools on the counter and you felt his eyes on your form while you gave your back to him. Putting away the last of the spoons you had used to make dinner. 

“Ricotta lasagna, I know you like it.”

You dried your hands, missing the way Ji-hoon smiled at your words. Though it was a fleeting reaction, it didn’t not reach his eyes. The timer on your phone went off and you silenced it, grabbing the oven mittens, you took the refractory out, the glass warm against your covered hands. 

You placed it on the counter and took the mittens off. The smell was delicious and this time, you didn’t miss Ji-hoon’s delighted smile at the thought of the homemade dinner he liked so much.

“You should call your father.”

Your voice was soft as you spoke while grabbing a knife and cutting the lasagna into neat portions. The golden cheese stretched slightly as you pulled the first piece free, steam curling into the air. 

Ji-hoon pursed his lips, the smile vanishing from his youthful yet handsome features. His shoulders stiffened as he rested his elbows on the counter. His eyes dulled once more and his demeanour returned to that loneliness that crept into his heart like poison ivy. 

“He won’t come.”

The boy murmured. You looked up, frowning gently at the sad acceptance in his voice. 

“Did you ask him?”

“There’s no need. He’s always busy.”

His tone was light, almost indifferent, but you knew better. You placed a plate in front of him, offering a small smile and hoping the food would content him, if only for a short moment. 

“Eat first. I’ll take him a plate, maybe he’ll come next time.”

Ji-hoon didn’t argue. His silence pained you. He simply looked at you with doubt and hope in his eyes at the same time before he picked his fork and began eating his lasagna. Without another word, you plated another portion and covered it with foil to keep it warm. Grabbing a tray, you added a glass of water and arranged the covered dinner before your feet carried you out of the kitchen. 

You passed the big dining area, the table too big by the solitude that ruled over the house. They walked past the grand staircase, the yellow light from the big chandelier illuminating your features. 

You entered Jungkook’s office, once more ignoring the staring and gentle portraits of his broken family as you went directly into the lab. The sweet aroma of freshly made food was left behind when you entered the lab for it faded into the crisp sterility of his workspace. 

Jungkook was exactly where you expected—standing by his microscope, brow furrowed in concentration. He barely acknowledged your entrance.

“Sir, dinner.”

You placed the tray on the nearest table, making sure it wouldn’t get in his way. But the sound of the tray hitting the steel counter made him speak in that cold and monotonous voice of his. 

“I’m not hungry.”

You didn’t move, only blinking at him as you studied him with an unreadable gaze that guarded the secrets of your heart. 

“Ji-hoon was waiting for you.”

Silence. 

For a moment, you thought he’d ignore you entirely. Then, with a sigh, he straightened, removing his gloves before finally looking at you. His gaze flickered toward the tray, lingering for only a second before shifting back to you.

“I have work to do.”

You swallowed the words you wanted to say. The ones about how Ji-hoon had barely touched his food after you left, how the boy’s excitement had dimmed the moment he realized his father wouldn’t come. But Jungkook knew. He had to know.

“I’ll leave it here. At least eat it before it gets cold.”

Jungkook said nothing, he turned his gaze away from you. His dark eyes were fixed once more on the chamber where Seo-yun slept. His jaw clenched, his thoughts were a myriad of emotions he hadn’t been able to decipher since that day when his life turned dark and his hopes died like embers. 

But even in the silence, you noticed. You saw his pain, his obsession, his dedication, his melancholy. You saw it all. Even when the house, when his work, when your heart drowned in this loud silence that cursed your existence.  

And so, you left. Leaving Jungkook alone with his thoughts. Alone with his doubts and guilt. He noticed when the warmth of your precedence left his lab, he noticed when he could no longer smell the floral aroma of your perfume. He noticed how your steps faded into the house, away from his and his grey emotions. 

And yet, later that night as you passed by his lab again, you noticed the tray was empty and Jungkook stood in front of the glass that separated him from Seo-yun. Drowning in the loud silence of his thoughts. 

February/01/2025

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[livingdeadmlm]

You Bring Me Closer to God pt5

Pronouns: The reader is referred to as a man. 

Physical Sex: AMAB. 

How far are things going?: These are the sex dreams the men are having about the priest reader!!

Warnings: Praise kink (Kiernan), Degradation kink (Kieran), Oral fixation (Dutch), Thigh fucking (Charles), rimming (Arthur), oral sex (Arthur), wet dreams (All). Riding (Hosea,Javier)

Outline: After hearing rumors about who you used to be the men all have odd dreams about the rumors.

What inspired me to write this is: That awful preist romance book I got.

Other: This is a harem romance! so all these dreams did happen and I will refer to them in the future!!

Part 1 2 3 4

Kieran was working in a stable he didn’t recognize. Brushing a horse, he also did not recognize it at first glance. The scent of hay was strong in his mind as a light breeze rolled in. Brushing the horse's fur in front of him, he looked closer and recognized the slight patterns; it was your horse! A beautiful creature he’d admire when walking past it. He’s never taken care of it before. Though he had often thought about offering to help care for it, his nerves seemed to tighten around him like a vice grip whenever you were around, leaving him speechless.

Your horse stood calmly, enjoying the comforting strokes of the brush. Soft neighs filled the stable as the animal leaned into Kieran’s touch, encouraging him to continue. A gentle smile crept across Kieran's face as the horse nuzzled affectionately against his hands, seeking more attention.

Just then, your voice broke through his moment of tranquility. “Hey there, stable boy!” enunciating your words, you appeared in the doorway, a playful smirk lighting up your face as you leaned casually against the wooden post that separated you from the pen.

Kieran's heart raced at the sound of your teasing tone. He chuckled nervously, trying to maintain his composure. “Oh! Hi there, Father (Name)! Just, uh, checking up on (Horse Name) here!” Stable boy? You’d never call him that. You were always so polite to him. It’s what he cherished most about being around you.

“Not causing any trouble, I hope. He’s usually such a good boy,” you said, extending a hand towards the horse, who affectionately pressed his head against your palm.

“Uh, no! He’s been very nice this whole time—really! Very comfortable with brushing,” Kieran replied, attempting to sound more at ease as he softly patted the horse’s flank. Just then, the gate clicked open, and you entered the pen with a grace that took him by surprise. Instinctively, Kieran shifted slightly behind the horse.

You had never been so assertive with him before, and the sudden change left him flustered and intrigued. Conflicting emotions swirled within him as he tried to gauge your intentions, and his heart fluttered at the new way you were treating him.

“What about you, stable boy? Have you been behaving like a good boy?” Your voice pierced the air, cutting through the thick tension around him. Kieran's heart raced, and he felt the telltale beads of sweat form on his palms.

“No! Uh, um, I mean, yes? I, I think I’ve been well-behaved!” You waved your hand dismissively as you shooed your horse out of the pen, its hooves softly clattering on the ground. Kieran watched, feeling oddly vulnerable now that he couldn’t hide behind the sturdy figure of the horse.

As you approached, he felt exposed under your gaze, as if you could see right through his clothes, though his skin past his bones to his soul. Your eyes seemed to devour him, detailing every quirk and tremor of his being, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Ohh, that makes me so happy to hear,” you said sweetly, your hand reaching out to glide through his dark hair with an almost electric gentleness. The soothing sensation of your fingers weaving through his strands sent a wave of warmth through him, and without thinking, a soft whine slipped from his lips; he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He leaned into your hand, instinctively closing his eyes to absorb the calming strokes fully. Time seemed to stretch, the world around him fading as he finally surrendered to the moment.

“Hm? What’s this, stable boy? Not trying to steal, are you?” Your fingers tightened in his hair, a firm grip that jolted him back to reality. Kieran's eyes flew open wide with surprise, and he followed your accusatory point right to his erection.

“I ain’t stealing, Father (Name), honest!” Panic tinged his voice; shaky and breathless, he was panting. He didn’t want you angry at him, not at all! The thought of disappointing you was unbearable.

“What’s this then, huh?” Your finger light ran over his erection, causing it to jump slightly. “It’s- it’s nothin’!! I promise I ain’t stealing!” Your eyes squinted at Kieran; he was practically shaking in your hands, eyes blown out wide but not trying to leave your hold.

You scoffed, “Pull ‘em down then; an innocent man will have nothing to hide.” Your grip on his hair stayed the same, and his face only got more red and heated.

Finally dropping the horse brush, shaking hands, he undid his trousers. Kieran wanted to curse at himself for how fast he was to listen to you. His instincts told him to get away, but he knew you wouldn’t hurt him. At least he liked to think you wouldn’t. It was against your nature.

His union suit didn’t do much to hide his hard-on. His pants pooled around his ankles. Your eyes burned into your skin, taking in the sight.

“Do you mind?” Your fingers played with the buttons of his union suit. He whined again, shaking his head no, his blue eyes glued to the movement of your hand as you undid each button. With every pop, the fabric parted slightly, revealing hints of skin beneath

His cock sprung out, buttons no longer holding it in. The hand holding his hair softened at the same time your expression did.

“Aww, just look at that,” you said, a gentle smile across your face. “I knew you weren't lying to me, Kieran. You’re such a good and sweet boy.” Your voice was soft and reassuring as you leaned in to kiss his forehead, your fingers tenderly caressing his hair, soothing him with your touch.

As you pressed another kiss to his cheek, you felt the warmth of his skin grow even hotter beneath your lips, a sign of the emotions swirling within him. Kieran’s eyes reflected a mix of confusion and longing. He was grappling with the tenderness you showed him; it felt unfamiliar yet comforting.

Your gentle affection contrasted with the sharpness of your earlier words, leaving him feeling vulnerable and a bit breathless. His knees felt weak as if he were standing on uncertain ground.

Your hand left his hair, “how about a reward? For being such a good and loyal stable boy?” you cooed, fingers ghosted over his weeping cock, a small pearl forming over the slit.

Kieran nodded quickly, feeling so much more sensitive than ever before. Finally wrapping your hand around his hard-on, Kieran threw his head back, slightly stumbling backward into a stack of hay bales. You giggled and pressed his back into the hay, following his staggered movements.

Your touch felt like heaven to him as you kissed his cheek again. Your hand took a slow pace, and with each pass of your hand, his mind grew more and more fuzzy. Your words felt more like you again, much softer and kinder to him.

Your kisses reached his neck with short licks in between, leaving him in a brain fog; how did you know how to do this? Kieran's hand reaches for your shoulder for support, finding it hard to hold himself up as time passes. Your hand speeds up,

Your hand was the softest thing he had ever felt, second only to your kiss on his lips. It felt like he was rutting into a cloud with each twitch of his hips. Each whine and whimper caused his mouth to open slightly, allowing your tongue to slip in. The brush of his beard against your chin was faint. Your hand changed positions taking the head of his cock in your hand to concentrate more on the tip, bullying the much more sensitive area. It practically knocked the wind from his chest as his stomach tightened. “Please! Father (Name)! I can’t hold on much longer!” Your breath was light against his own; you were so collected, the lone thing keeping Kieran up.

His face was one of pure bliss; only moans left his mouth as he spilled against your hand. His vision was blurry from tears, and he tried to take in the sight before stirring awake.

He audibly groaned, looking at the scout fire, which was mostly out by now, and the sun had not touched the sky yet. Panting, Kieran sat up, embarrassed by such a dream at his age. Looking over the camp, he noticed Hosea and Dutch also awake. They were never up so early. He knew Charles Arthur and Javier had to go off on some mission very early, but they seemed much more restless than normal, and they began to head out.

Dutch stood at the back of the crowded church, his gaze drifting through the sea of faces. The line for communion was quick, each second shorter than the last. In front of him, Molly stood with a slight sway to the organ's rhythm, her movements drawing his attention, though it didn't last as he couldn't quite understand why. He wasn't the religious type.

He'd never felt the need for communion or the body and blood of Christ. So why was he here?

But then the line inched forward, and with it, his pulse quickened. And there you were.

You weren't entirely in focus at first—his mind flickering between the present you and the photo of you at 22 when a playful smirk had danced across your lips as you poured wine into Molly's mouth. What stayed with him the most was how your eyes never left his, even as you'd served her. The smoke from his cigar flowed from his lips into the air around him, the smoke not hotter than the gaze you had, pulling him in.

He felt a jealous bubble in his chest as Molly bowed her head, whispering a small “Amen,” hands folded and walked away. Sure, the two haven’t shared a bed since Colter, but damn it, she was still his.

Dutch was next, and your smile only got wider, eyes shifting.

Closing your eyes when taking the wafer was customary, but your eyes stayed open. Dutch looked around, and everyone seemed to have their eyes closed, heads ducked in prayer, except for the two of you. Dutch took the cigar from his lips, holding it in his dominant hand.

Dutch was reluctant to close his eyes, his heart pounding, squeezing them shut; he opened his mouth. He couldn't stand to look in your eyes any longer. The dry taste of the communion wafer touched his tongue, but his fingers stayed. Daring to open an eye, your face hovered inches away from Dutch.

“No smoking in church, Mister Van Der Linde,” you whispered, eyes so deep pulling him in, rooting his legs to the spot.

He couldn't move, not as your hand reached for a cigar or when the wafer had long dissolved, and the only thing he could taste was you.

“If you need something between your lips that bad.” you purred, voice as smooth as silk as you took the cigar from his hand, bringing it to your lips.

His eyes were stuck on you, hypnotizing. Nothing even existed beyond your lips around the cigar. Nothing else mattered as your lips parted and you sucked in the smoke, slow and deliberate. Letting the smoke linger in your mouth, and the woody flavors sink into your tongue.

Your fingers pressed flat against his tongue, stroking the wet muscle as you blew the flavorful smoke in Dutch's face. “We can work out a deal.”

He was caught in its haze, the sweet burning smell attacking each of his senses. But just under the familiar taste of the cigar was you, breathing in you. You were his air.

Your fingers left his mouth, his tongue without him knowing it, had wrapped around your fingers, causing a small string of drool to follow.

You placed the cigar back into his mouth before waving as the line continued. Dutch felt like he was wearing iron shoes, each step like a drag away from you. He sucked on the cigar a bit harsher as he sat back next to Molly, staring at her lap, which was toying with the thin pages of a Bible.

He could taste you within the tobacco leaves. The more of you he could taste, the more his stomach tightened. The stiff wood made his back uncomfortable as he stirred.

Their eyes shot open, and he slightly labored breathing as he sat up from his cot. Glancing over, Molly's sleeping figure was still. Dutch sighed and stepped out of the tent to look at the sky. It was so early the sun hadn’t even begun rising.

Scanning the camp, he nodded to Hosea, who was awake and sitting on a nearby crate. He could see Kieran tossing in his sleep if he narrowed his eyes. But the sound of Charles Javier and Arthur packing for their trip stole his attention.

Each man rubbed their eyes in exhaustion as they stood up from their crouching position, bidding Dutch a good morning as they made their way out of camp.

Arthur lay there, staring at the stars, the weight of the rumors hangin' heavy on his chest. He knew deep down they weren’t true—couldn't be. He was the only one who'd ever talked to you like that, ever shared that kind of talk with you. And you’d told him, real clear-like, that you'd never done any of that before—unless you’d been pulling the wool over his eyes.

But still, the damn rumors floated around like a smoke cloud. It gnawed at him, eating away at his peace of mind. It made him wonder if you were just trying to make yourself seem spotless and clean as a saint because of how you now held yourself. The thought twisted his stomach as he tried to get a few hours of sleep before heading out to find Sean.

But Arthur was restless, tossing in his cot. The thought of you kept stirring in his head, messing with his focus. He knew rumors would be whispered about in camp; he had a few. But this time, it felt different; they weren’t talking about him, and his behavior changes were odd or concerning.

They were about you, which made his blood boil in a way he hadn’t expected. You, of course, hadn’t seen Arthur, but he saw you. He’d seen you walk through town many times before he’d ever stepped foot into the church after Reverend practically pushed him through the door. He’d stare at you as you donated money to anyone asking, even if they looked like they’d spit on any dollar you handed. He’d never see you take the change when buying something unless it was shoved back into your hand.

He even remembered laughing as you stood, keeping a door open for almost two minutes because people kept walking into the saloon. Maybe it wasn’t the rumors bothering him so much, but the idea that you’d want to hide things from him. That you might think he’d judge you for your past, for things you couldn’t change. He was the last person in the world who should judge you, and he would be the last to have a bad thing to say. Arthur did everything for survival, which eventually became a muddy reason for him, but you were trying to get through each day. The thought still couldn’t leave his mind; he needed to clear the air with you. Finally, look into your eyes and meet you. He’d have to do it soon. He wasn’t going to go back to Blackwater, risk his head coming off before you even got to see it.

He got up from the cot; it had only been a few hours since he left the booth and bid you goodnight. If you were awake, he had no clue. The moonlight washed over his skin as he rode his horse to the church. The only people awake in Valentine were too drunk to see their own two feet as he hitched his horse and made his way up the steps.

At the front of the church, you were kneeling at the steps, hands clasped, your rosary between your hands, eyes shut. You looked so serene, so… far away. Arthur stepped forward slowly, the same pace he’d use when hunting deer. You tensed up when you heard the footsteps, eyes flicking over to him as you rose. “Oh! Hello, Sir,” Your voice is soft and warm. “Is everything okay?” Your eyes were so delicate as you looked at him, cradling him with your eyes as you stayed a foot away from him, unsure how close to get. Arthur stood there for a long moment, staring at you, his jaw tight. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but firm. “Got a minute?”

Your eyes went wide, and you held your hands to your chest. “I always do for you.” Arthur took a step closer, his boots stopping right before you. He could feel his hands shaking but forced himself to stay steady. "I heard the whispers," he said, keeping his voice even though its edge was hard to ignore. "People talkin’ about you..."

Your eyes fell. You didn’t flinch. But he saw the slightest shift, the way your shoulders tensed. You looked away, fingers tight around the fabric of your robes. “Arthur, I—” “No," he interrupted, his voice sharp now, almost desperate. "I ain't askin’ for explanations you ain't ready to give, but I need to know somethin'. I need to know where you stand 'cause all this—" He waved a hand at the town just behind him, at the rumors, at the whispers, at his frustration seeping through his skin—“ain’t sittin’ right with me.”

You hesitated, and for a moment, Arthur thought you might turn away. But then you met his gaze, your eyes soft but heavy with something he couldn’t quite place. “I didn’t want this,” you said quietly, almost like a confession. “Didn’t want anyone thinkin’ that about me.” Your voice faltered, but you didn’t back down. “I never did anything wrong, but people in this rotten town don’t want the truth.”

Arthur’s heart pounded. “What truth?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. He was a fool to be standing here, asking these questions, but there was no going back now.

Your body sank, the weight of the world in your eyes. “I’ve dealt with some wretched men in this town, each and every one of them leaving the church with a black heart when I refused them.”

Arthur couldn’t stand the distance between you anymore. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he placed it gently on your shoulder, grounding you, steadying you. "I never asked for this, Arthur. But it’s all I’ve known." your voice trembled, “These robes, these stories I grew up with. I gave up my freedom for this… life. It hardly started before it got ripped away from me.” You fell into Arthurs's arms, breathing unevenly as he held you up.

The world around him began to crumble as he held your face to look at him. His thumb traced your jaw, and your skin was so soft against his hands. The only audible sound was the light popping from the many candles in the church. Arthur thought you could hear his heartbeat.

He didn’t pull away, nor did you; his gaze lingered on your lips, drawn to them like a man desperate for water. He was so close now, close enough to feel your skin's warmth and hear your breathing. He hadn’t been this close to someone who needed him just as much as he needed them in years. How you looked at him—soft and with watery eyes—made him want to hold, protect, and kiss you.

He couldn’t stop himself now. He had to know if you felt the same hunger he did. His breath mingled with yours, and he held your hips against his. The kiss was tender as your eyes fluttered shut. The ache in your body was unmistakable to him. When you leaned into him instead, Arthur’s chest tightened, and he deepened the kiss. His hand slid to the back of your neck, cradling you to him like he couldn’t get close enough.

With a low groan, he swept you off your feet, your legs wrapped around his hips as he slowly placed your back against the worn seat of the wooden pew. His mind felt hazy with longing like he was melting into you. The skirt of your cassock rode up, and the pants you wore under were a thin fabric that left nothing to his imagination. A sliver of your stomach was visible, his rough hands immediately attached to the area, tracing his fingers across your warm skin.

He'd never even seen your arms before, so this was not something he’d let slip away. Both of your hearts raced as he pressed his chest to yours. His fingers slipped under the fabric of your cassock, tracing up the line of your spine. “Arthur…” The way his name escaped your lips felt like worship; it sent a thrill through his body.

His lips found your neck, warm and tender, he could feel your pulse under his teeth. Tilting your head, offering yourself to him fully. He sucked a mark into your neck, rolling his hips against yours, hands, and pulling up your cassock, leaving more of your torso exposed. The cool air against your body made you shiver as his lips met yours again without hesitation. He was urgent and desperate for you. Running your hands through his hair, his hat fell off, landing on the floor beside you both.

His hands went back to your waist, tracing each bump and curve of your body, committing it to memory as if this would be the last time he ever held you. His fingers trailed down your stomach, and a soft gasp left you as he did, causing him to falter for just a moment. “Is this alright?” His voice was harsh but breathless, waiting for any indication that it was okay that you were okay. You nodded, unable to speak. Your hands pulled him back in for a kiss. He chuckled against your lips, teasing the button of your pants. Part of him wanted just to rip them off; the fabric was thin enough to get away with it.

“Do you want this? Do you want this as much as I do?” You whined at Arthur’s words nodding quickly.

Letting you go from both of his arms for just a second, he tore off your pants and quickly did the same with his own. Pressing hot kisses and bites across your stomach, Arthurs's head sunk to your ass, gently pressing around the rim of your ass with his tongue coaxing you tetween each press of his tongue. Arthur was falling apart trying to pace himself to not come just from your noises and thighs squeezing his head. He was surrounded by you in the best way he could imagine licking away at your hole, pleased noises leaving Arthur as if this was the best thing in the world.

Arthur moved one of his hands down to grab your thigh, pushing it up to give his face better access, resting your knee over his shoulder Arthur snaked his tongue inside. Your cries only got louder and more desperate but nothing could pull Arthur away. Not even his cock leaking onto the pew, begging for attention.

Arthurs pressed his tongue in deeper and moaned at the taste, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs which trembled at all the new sensations from Arthurs hands and tongue.

“Arthur! I, I can't please!” Arthurs pace stayed the exact same, driving you crazy.

Arthur's eyes squinted open, the cot he was on groaned at his movements as he went to sit up properly. Javier was just waking up as well. Charles turned onto his side stretching with a yawn. Arthur didn't have the time to break down such a weird dream. It all felt too real even if it made no sense.

Boots thudding against the dirt ground he began to pack, Sean needed a rescue. The dream could take the back burner for the next few days. He bid Dutch and Hosea a good morning as he stuffed his satchel with bullets. It will be a long day.

As Hosea stepped inside, he found the church empty. He had intended to ask something, but when he saw you leaning against the pulpit, your face intensely focused as you flipped through the Bible's pages, he forgot what he had come to ask.

“Good evening, Mister Matthews! What brings you here?” The steel pen in your hand stopped writing as you stayed leaned over the wooden stand. Hosea scratched his chin, trying to remember.

“Well, to be frank with you, Father (Name), I don’t quite remember!” you both laughed lightly. Hosea attempted to take his eyes off your hips and the curve of your back, but it was futile as you seemed to lean down even further.

“You know what, Mister Matthews? I’ve been having some trouble! Could you follow me?” You pushed away from the pulpit and gestured toward a door down the hallway. He followed you as you spoke, “This drawer hasn’t been coming out fully. I think it’s jammed, but I’m unsure how to fix it!”

As you opened the door, Hosea realized that this was your room—your sanctuary, with the smell of incense and you.

“It’s this one here,” you said quietly, pointing to the lower drawer, your brow furrowed in concentration. You bent down to tug at the stubborn metal handles, and Hosea couldn’t help but watch, his eyes tracing the line of your back. He cleared his throat, his voice strained. “Uh-huh.” He felt his pants grow tighter, a warm flush creeping over him.

Slipping off his coat, he draped it over your bed and crouched beside you, eager to help. The drawer was stubbornly jammed, resisting your efforts to pull it free. He’s never claimed to be good at fixing things, but he couldn’t deny your sweet face to at least try. After a few tries and a gentle adjustment of the wheels back onto the steel bearings, he finally managed to free it.

With the drawer now open, you gestured toward the bed. “You’ve earned a seat,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. As Hosea sat down, you perched beside him, your legs brushing ever so slightly. You mentioned your bed frame, its robust and well-made design standing the test of time; after all these years, it had never cracked.

You sat on the mattress, the soft fabric beneath you inviting and warm. As you wiggled the headboard with a playful grin, Hosea couldn’t help but admire how your eyes sparkled with mischief. His words slipped out before he could catch them, a teasing jab at the moment. “Well, of course, there’s no cracks or breaks; not like you’re doing anything to risk breaking it.”

The shocked surprise on your face quickly morphed into a sulky pout, and Hosea found himself captivated. That expression was one he could never resist. “There are more things that can break a bed, Mister Matthews!” you retorted, your tone playful yet challenging. Slowly, he leaned closer, and so did you. Each beat of his heart was one inch of distance closing. “I think,” he said, his voice low and filled with intent, “there’s a lot more than just the bed that can be tested tonight.”

the distance between you closed, and his lips found yours in a slow, tentative kiss. Testing the waters as your eyes fluttered shut. Your fingers brushed his jaw, tracing the roughness of his stubble. Hosea’s heart raced; he hadn’t been with anyone like this in a very long time. His thumb now grazing the curve of your cheek, committing the softness to memory.

He could taste a faint sweetness in your breath as you pulled back just slightly, your eyes having a mischievous glint to them, “You truly are a charmer, Mister Matthews.” Hosea smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting, brushing any hair from your face. The scent of your incense lingered in the air as you leaned forward again. This kiss was more desperate as you pressed a hand against Hosea's chest, running a thumb against the fabric.

Hosea felt every brush of your lips and your hand against his body. His hands slipped down to your chest, undoing the button of the caplet you occasionally wore with your cassock. The small fabric fell from your torso as he went for the stiff white collar you had. He wasn’t sure what it was called but carefully placed it on your bedside table. His nimble fingers made quick work of each button, and his lips trailed down your jaw to your neck, pressing kisses that made you whine against him. Your hands landed on his soft, silver hair, gently tugging at it. His ability to be fully present in the moment began to sway as every piece of clothing the two of you wore was shed.

You were on top of him now; your warmth surrounded him, and he wasn’t sure how long he could last with each rock of your hips. Each moan and groan landed on deaf ears The soft glow from the candles in your room surrounded the space behind you, like a halo around your body. You were like an angel as the pressure in his body finally gave way.

Taking a deep breath, Hosea sat up from his bedroll on the floor. The purple hues from the sky were still there as he woke up. Bill passed out nearby, snoring. Hosea got half-dressed before sitting on a nearby crate; he didn’t want to sit on the wet ground.

He noticed Kieran twitch in his sleep before hearing a groan from Dutch nearby tent. The tent flap opened, and Dutch stepped out with a grunt and nodded toward Hosea.

Arthur, Charles, and Javier all woke up at the same time, looking like they didn’t sleep a wink. Hosea grabbed a nearby book, pretending to read the pages as he reflected on his dream momentarily. Clearing his throat, he attempted actually to read.

Javier’s feet ached as he made his way through the quaint town, the dirt roads reflecting a light he felt he should recognize, yet he was sure he had never been here before. The soft chatter of townsfolk and the distant laughter of children playing filled the air, but the sounds felt distant, like echoes from a world he once knew but could not recall.

As he climbed the gentle incline towards a church perched on the hill, a sense of familiarity washed over him, stirring something deep within. Tall and proud, the church stood with its weathered stones and sun-kissed spire. That's when he saw you. The usual modest long sleeve and skirt you wore were now replaced with short sleeves and fitting slacks. Your hands were covered in gardening gloves as you tended to a bed of flowers.

Javier's mind began to untangle memories. Growing up in Mexico, the church played a pivotal role in the fabric of life for most families. Yet, a shadow loomed over his nostalgia, for the beginnings of that connection were marred by hardship and plenty of loss.

He had often considered the life he was forced to abandon, the severed family ties, and the unfulfilled dreams. Each day carried the weight of that sacrifice, a reminder of everything he had left behind and the bittersweet memories that haunted him. Even now, as he stood before the church, his heart ached.

“Hola, Father.” Javier adjusted the sack on his back, leaning on his hip.

“Good morning, Mister Escuella! I'm surprised you're back so soon. You must tell me about your adventures!” You rested your gloved hands against your knees, smiling up at Javier.

Your dark outfit looked stunning against the white clover flowers surrounding you in the grass.

“It seems no matter how far I go, I'm always led back to you, Father (Name),” Javier purred, glancing at the red flowers you had planted in the flower bed before you.

He fidgeted with the strap of his bag, hoping you didn’t notice how uncomfortable he felt. Truth be told, he worked hard to sell the idea of being a romantic, hoping that he might start to believe it himself. Your arms flexed as you adjusted the flower bed to be more in the sunlight. Javier licked his lips at the sight. Your skin was always so covered that he never had the opportunity to see your body.

Your smile warmed his heart; perhaps he was beginning to believe it. You took off your gloves, leaving them on the church's porch.

“Well! Let’s head inside; I’m sure you’re just exhausted!” You cooed at Javier, placing your hand on his lower back and leading him inside. Once the heavy doors shut behind the two of you, Javier pulled you into his chest, dropping his bag to the ground. His hands tilted your head as he pressed a desperate kiss to your lips. Your lips were much softer against his. Not a single piece of dried skin tainted them.

You softly gasped as his hand landed on your ass. Holding the fat in his hand, messaging it. “This. This keeps me coming back…guapo~” he spoke against your lips; your whine was like music to his ears at his words. He could feel your hard dick against his thigh; his hand let go of your face tracing the head of your cock with his fingers, “This too, dios mio, I can’t forget it.”

“Javi, we can’t do this here!” Your voice fell on deaf ears.

You were overly sensitive to every touch he gave you, hips bucking into his hand as you both stumbled to the floor. Javier places his hat on your head before straddling your lap. Javier couldn’t remember taking your pants off or even his own, but you filled him so nicely that he honestly didn’t even care how it happened. You were lucky the church was empty; for your sake, even if a few other church members were wandering around, he’s not sure anything would’ve changed with how intensely he was riding you. Such a stuffy place could use a good show. And who better to put on a show than one of the leading members?

Javier huffed your hands held onto his hips, the tips of your fingers pressed into the skin, trying to slow the pace of his hips down, but he just couldn’t get enough of your desperate cries. Javier knew he couldn’t last despite the movements you constantly brushed against every sensitive spot in his body. He loved how you looked with his hat on; it was like staking his claim on you, other than the obvious.

He grabbed one of your arms, kissing the palm of your hand down your arm. The hair of his mustache scratched against your arm, but any new sensations felt so good that you didn’t mind. Javier's body trembled as he pressed his lips to your arm, his eyes squeezed shut. Every ache in his body was gone for a moment.

Javier's body felt hot, way too hot, as his body sat up. White sleep shirt, much lower than it was when he put it on the night before. The fire he slept by next to Charles was much stronger than it usually was in the morning. He and Charles caught eyes for a moment, if Charles looked like death, Javier was sure he was in the same boat. He heard Arthuts boots against the ground and began to pack, he had to pick up Trelawny to scope out the scene and was not excited for the non-stop conversation that was bound to happen on the ride to black water.

The crunch of the rocks under Charles's boots alerted your resting figure. Since his hand healed, he decided to get back into hunting to donate the meat to either you or Pearson when he was finished. He had skin and gathered the meat from a few deers, which he kept on his horse; he wasn’t sure what you were doing here. It’s a bit of a ride from Valentine here, but he wasn’t upset to see you sooner than planned.

“I’ve been waiting here for you, Mister Smith. I just couldn't stop thinking about you!” He finally noticed your body position: you were on all fours, your back slightly arched.

“What’s uh going on, Father (Name)?” you looked over your shoulder, maintaining eye contact with Charles. “What? I can’t say hi to you on my own���Special way, Mister Smith?” he couldn’t tell if this was some sort of joke if you were pulling his leg trying to make him laugh or what, but he also didn’t want just to brush this away because he was nervous.

Charles felt like an animal huffing over your shaking body, his chest pressed against your back; your arms were shaking, seeming like they were about to give out from under you. His thrusts weren’t harsh. They were pretty even, but even then, each thrust felt like pushing each thought from your brain. Your body fell against the lush grass on the ground, Charles following suit. Charles was no small man in any sense of the word. And he didn’t want to hurt you even if you were offering yourself to him.

His head rested just behind yours, breathing against the back of your neck, inhaling the smell of your hair as he rutted between your plush thighs, his hard-on brushing against yours with each rutt of his hips. His lips kissed the nape of your neck; he could feel your hand begin to stroke yourself, your hand grazing over his cock when it was near. He felt like a predator who successfully caught his prey, your whines high-pitched, like cries. Fucking you out in the open, anyone could walk by. God forbid someone gets curious to check on the noise.

But Charles was starting to lose all of his sense on top of you; the precum from his thrusting lubed up your thighs, making a slick, wet noise. He lightly bit the nape of your neck, causing your body to keen into his. His hands held your hips, moving your entire body back and forth to thrust you back and forth on his cock. You were reduced to just a moaning mess, and a guilty part of him reveled in seeing you so dependent on him even to hold you together. With a groan, Charles bit down a little harder. His eyes opened, seeing Javier sitting up, already looking at Charles. It was the sight he usually woke up to, but Javier looked rough, as if he had hardly slept.

Charles felt strained, his hard-on not gone down at all as he began to wake up fully at the sounds of Arthur packing. With a grunt, he sat up, taking in the sight of the camp before beginning to pack himself. He felt lucky to have slightly baggy pants, giving himself some decency and saving himself from potential stares and odd conversations.

[guardian-of-da-gay]

"Love you!"

Read on Ao3

For @year-of-the-echidna's Prompt 4: Love

tw for language barriers, accidental voyeurism

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later, love you.”

Sonic’s Donut Lord said it when he left that first morning.  The hedgehog’s home had been badly damaged by Robotnik’s giant robot and the Lord of Donuts, as one of the protectors of this realm, was needed to defend the traffic detours left in the wake of destruction.

Knuckles understood all that.  Or… most of it anyway.  But he was less sure of the human’s words.  He knew better than to ask though.  In his experience, when people knew you didn’t fully understand their language, they would take advantage.  He did not know these Wachowskis very well yet, he would keep his confusion to himself.

For now, ‘love you’ was a form of ‘goodbye’.

His suspicion was confirmed later that day when the ‘pretzel’ woman was called to her duty as a healer of animals.

“I’ll be back in a couple hours.  I love you.”

Sonic had ducked and glanced at Knuckles and the fox.  Knuckles did not understand the meaning of this look.  He observed closely as Sonic looked to the matron of clan Wachowski and said a quick: “Yeah… love you, too.”

Definitely a form of farewell, but just in case he was wrong, Knuckles would not use it himself.

*

The next time Knuckles heard the word he felt a little more comfortable with this strange new tribe.  The hedgehog was eager to explain things and share parts of his world with both Knuckles and the fox.  They even taught him to play their pointless game ‘base of ball’, which Knuckles won, of course.  Afterward, they introduced him to an Earth delicacy: ice cream with sprinkles.

“I love mint!”  Tails exclaimed.

Hm.  That wasn’t how you used that word.

The Pretzel Woman smiled at the Lord of Donuts while he rolled his eyes.  “I love mint too!”  She said.

Ah.  Perhaps that was how you used that word.  It was… some sort of preference?  Was it just a similar sounding word to the ‘goodbye’ word?

“Tom thinks it tastes like toothpaste,” the Pretzel Woman said in a whisper far too loud for the Donut Lord not to hear.

Tooth paste?

“Hey, to each their own,” the Lord of Donuts shrugged his shoulders.  “You guys enjoy your toothpaste ice cream.  It leaves more moose tracks for me and Sonic!”

Moose tracks?

“What kind do you want, Knuckles?”  The Pretzel Woman asked.  “We have plain vanilla too if you want.”

Knuckles hesitated.  ‘Moose tracks’ did not sound appetizing, even if there were these magical ‘sprinkles’ involved.  The pasted teeth ice cream sounded equally baffling and unappealing.  If only there were a grape kind!  But Sonic had already told him that ice cream did not have grapes in it.

“I will have the ‘plain vanilla’,” he said.  “With sprinkles.”

‘Plain vanilla’ was not so bad, but he was disappointed to find that sprinkles tasted like nothing but crunchiness.  Grapes would have been far better.

*

“Trust me, Knuckles, I get it,” Sonic said.  “I used to love watching people.  Tails too.  But you don’t watch people in the shower.”

So ‘love’ meant ‘enjoy’ too?  It seemed to be quite a versatile word.  Unless there was some subtle nuance in pronunciation that Knuckles was missing.  It wouldn't be the first time.  Regardless: “I wasn’t watching anyone!”  Knuckles said, thoroughly confused.  “You told me to retrieve the Pretzel Woman’s permission.”

“Yeah, but she was in the shower.  Like… not wearing anything?  That’s private.”

Knuckles disagreed.  His people had always bathed communally, but even if that weren’t the case… “Sonic,” Knuckles looked at him, deeply unimpressed.  “I don’t wear anything.  You don’t wear anything.”

“Okay, fair!  But humans are different.  They need clothes to hide their… business.”

“Business?  What business?”

“It’s an expression!  Nevermind!  The point is you don’t go into the bathroom without knocking and if you hear the shower running, just turn around and wait.”

“I was waiting.”

“Outside.”

Knuckles sighed.  Humans certainly had plenty of nuance to their culture.  Why should their language be any different?

*

“Mads, could you get my car started so I won’t freeze when it’s time to go?”  The Lord of Donuts reclined on the couch with the Wachowski’s golden wolf.

The Pretzel Woman poked her head in the room, her arms full of their dirtied breakfast plates.  “You want me to start your car so you can be warm on the way to your job?”

“I can’t.  I’m trapped.”  The Donut Lord pointed to where the wolf’s head lay in his lap.  Knuckles knew from experience that the wolf was not that heavy, the Donut Lord should have been able to free himself.

The Pretzel Woman rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.  She set down the plates and made for the back door.

“I love you,” the Donut Lord called after her.

“I know!”  She called back.

Knuckles was doubly confused.  That made it sound like ‘love’ was a term of gratitude.  This language was so tricky!

But he had no time to dwell on it.  The weakling Lord of Donuts needed rescuing from the wolf.

*

“Oh my God!”  Sonic nearly collapsed with laughter.

Knuckles tried not to bristle in anger.  He didn’t know what was so funny.  The fox had merely spoken the truth and yet Sonic was laughing so hard at him!  Knuckles clenched his fists.  He felt a strange urge to defend the Tails’ honor.

“Man, Tails, I love you!  Never change.”

Knuckles frowned.  Sonic was laughing, but ‘never change’ seemed to be a compliment.  And he’d said ‘I love you', which either meant ‘goodbye’, ‘prefer’, or ‘thank you’.  Tails, at least, didn’t seem offended.  He beamed with pleasure, his tails twitching.

Knuckles was no closer to uncovering what ‘love’ meant.  But it seemed at least to be a good thing.

*

Tom looked very pale lying on his hospital bed.  They’d been reassured that he would survive his wounds, but it had still taken a long time for Sonic and Tails to fall asleep.  They lay curled together on a chair against the wall.

Maddie was in the hallway, speaking on the phone with Tom’s mother.  It seemed when one of the tribe was injured, many people had to be informed.  The concept was foreign to Knuckles.  In the echidna tribe, information never needed a far reach; there simply weren’t enough of them.  Everyone was usually there when an injury occurred.  But Maddie had called Tom’s mother and her own sister.  Then she’d been called by Tom’s brothers, one by one.  She’d pulled Sonic aside to speak with him, then Tails.  Everyone had spoken with her but Knuckles, so he wasn’t surprised when she finally called him out of the quiet hospital room.

Knuckles could not see them, but he knew there were G.U.N. agents guarding the doors at the end of the hall.  They would be escorted back to Green Hills once Tom was well enough to travel.  For now, at least, the hallway was empty except for a few chairs set against the walls and some scattered plastic plants.

Maddie sat in one of the hallway chairs, looking very tired.  “Hey honey,” she started.  “Sorry I haven’t had a chance to talk to you yet.”

Knuckles stood at attention before her.  “What did you wish to speak of?”  He asked.  Was she thinking, as he was, of their tribe’s security?  About the Master Emerald?  Who would lead the tribe now that the Lord of Donuts had been struck low?  How their wolf was coping without them back in Green Hills?

“Sonic told me about what happened,” Maddie said.

Knuckles’ shoulders slumped.  Oh.  That was none of those things.

“I just wanted to say I think you handled yourself really well.  I know it must have been hard, everything with Sonic…”  She trailed off, an expression crossing her face and then vanishing just as quickly.  She shook her head slightly before refocusing on Knuckles.  “Tails said you were really mature and looked after him.  I’m just really happy with how much you’ve grown.  You’re a good big brother and… I’m really proud of you.”

“Oh.”  Well, Knuckles really didn’t know what to say to that.  He toyed with the cuff of his gloves.

Maddie slid off the chair, reaching for him.  Her hugs were not quick things like Sonic’s.  Knuckles always knew when a Pretzel Woman hug was coming.  He knew that if he backed away or tensed, her arms would drop and she would change the subject, but he did neither.  He let her long arms wrap around him.  Knuckles was an echidna warrior, but Maddie’s arms made him feel so small.  Like he was a child again.

Her cheek pressed against his head.  Knuckles honored this bold display of trust by holding still.  The wrong move could prick her thin skin.

“I love you,” she said, carefully stroking the back of his head.

“You’re welcome,” Knuckles replied.  Hugs made him feel… unbalanced.  In a way that was very nice but almost overwhelming.  Just before it felt like too much, she pulled away.

She had a soft smile on her face.  “‘You’re welcome’?”  She asked.

Knuckles was still reeling from the hug, so he answered honestly, even if it made him look silly.  “‘I love you’ is an expression of gratitude.”

“What?”

Her tone was amused, but she managed to make it sound like she wasn’t laughing at him, so he continued:  “When Tom started the car for you, you said ‘I love you’.  It is a form of ‘thanks’, isn’t it?”

A shadow flickered across Maddie’s expression.  “No… Do you really not know what ‘I love you’ means?”

Knuckles’ shoulders tensed slightly.  Had he mis-stepped?  “That word gets used a lot.  I’m not familiar with it.”

“Oh.”  Maddie had that look on her face that she got sometimes when Knuckles told her things about his past.  He didn’t like it.  He thought he would rather not say anything than have her make that face.

“Love is like…”  Her eyes flit around, searching for inspiration.  “It can mean something that you like a lot.  Like: I love cake.  I just like cake a lot.  But it can also mean something beyond like.  It’s a feeling.  Like how married people feel toward each other?  Or how parents feel towards their kids and their kids toward them?  You know?  I love you and that means I want you to be happy and safe and always a part of my life.”

“So it is like… a deep affection?”

“Yes!”  She smiled warmly.

“Like… “  Knuckles sought for an example, and said the first that came to mind: “A mother and son?”

“Yes!  So… I feel love for Tom and Tom loves me and we feel love for you and Sonic and Tails.”

Knuckles nodded.  “I understand!”  He thought over all the times he had heard the word and found that, yes, it made sense that they were expressing affection for each other.  Or for pasted teeth ice cream.  Tails did really like that tooth paste flavor.

Maddie was watching him with a strange expression.

“What?”

“It’s… It’s nothing,” she said casually.  “Just… didn’t you hear that word before?  You know… like from your tribe?  Or… your father?”

What a strange question!  But perhaps Knuckles had done too good a job with his English.  “My people did not speak the same language as you,” he said.  Judging by the surprise that crossed her expression, he was correct.  He’d successfully fooled at least one of the Wachowskis into thinking their language was his first.  The thought didn’t leave him as glad as it once might have.  Instead, he felt the need to elaborate:  “Father used different words.  I have not heard ‘love’ before coming here.”

“Oh.”  Now a series of expressions crossed Maddie’s face.  Relief and sorrow and pity and resolve.  She shook her head minutely.  “What did your dad say?”

Knuckles tipped his head in confusion.  His father said many things.

“I mean, what words did he use to express affection?”

“The echidna words?”  No one had ever asked him for echidna words.  None had even asked for his echidna name.

But here Maddie was, a soft smile growing on her face.  “Yeah.  How do you say ‘I love you’ in echidna?”

It had been so long since Knuckles had heard or spoken his native language aloud, a part of him feared his tongue would forget how to form the words.  But when he opened his mouth, the words came back to him, old and familiar like a long-lost friend:  “T’onga ahau tekoe.”

He saw something almost like fear enter Maddie’s eyes, but she bravely took on the challenge: “Ton-guh ah-how tay-kway?”  She smiled like she was apologizing.  Which was appropriate.

“You just said ‘You are a mouldy pouch’.”

Maddie burst out laughing, then clapped her hands over her mouth.  Her eyes flicked to the open door, beyond which, the rest of their tribe lay sleeping.  “Sorry,” she said in a softer voice.  “Tell me again, I’ll get it.”

Knuckles repeated it for her and she tried again.  Again, she fumbled the words.  She insisted Knuckles help her to say it.  Knuckles obliged in large part because it was sort of amusing listening to all the nonsense she said while she stumbled over the words.  Eventually she was able to say it, albeit in a very stilted robotic tone with a powerful accent, but she said it:

“T’onga ahau tekoe, Knuckles.”

Knuckles smiled, his face warm beneath his fur.  “T’onga ahau tekoena, matem,” he replied.

“Wha-wha-what!”  Maddie held up a finger.  “What was that last part?  You didn’t teach me that last part!”

Knuckles looked away.  It was easier to say things in his own language.  He was too embarrassed to repeat it in English.  Instead he waved a hand.  “A lesson for another day.”

Maddie seemed unsatisfied, but she let it slide.  Curious, but not forceful.  She’d let him open up in his own time.  That was something Knuckles loved about his new matem.

[redgoldsparks]

January Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut. You might notice the layout image looks different! I have switched to using the Storygraph wrap up and I'm now linking to the Storygraph reviews as well :)

The Sweetness Between Us by Sarah Winifred Searle 

Perley and Amandine are both readjusting to high school life after a major health crisis. Perley was diagnoses with diabetes; Amandine was turned into a vampire after a car crash nearly ended her life. They bond in remedial classes over just wishing their lives could go back to normal. Perley tentatively rejoins the knitting club; Amandine wants to rejoin a sports team but struggles with exhaustion; both of them have less energy than they had before. Their friendship develops into something more, but can they maintain a romance when they are both still figuring out their own shit? This is a very sweet slice of life story with a fun dash of the supernatural. I wanted a little more from some of the queer themes; I spent most of the book unsure of Perley's pronouns. But I was absolutely rooting for these two oddball teens to find their way back to each other.

LaserWriter II by Tamara Shopsin

This is a novel, loosely, but more so it's a little window back into a specific era of repairable technology and the people who were drawn to it. Set almost entirely in a (real, I think) Mac repair shop in New York City in the 1990s, this book jumps from backstory to backstory, introducing a range of self-taught computer fanatics. The cast and the story both feel wide but not deep. I didn't get to know anyone well, not even Claire, the newest hire and lead character. It did give me some serious nostalgia, even though I was really too young in this era to really have any meaningful relationship with it's technology. A weird but charming little book.

The City in Glass by Nghi Vo, read by Susan Dalian

The demon Vitrine has been nurturing, building, challenging and haunting the port city of Azril for hundreds of years when the angels come to burn it to the ground. She tries to defend her people from the heavenly attack but only succeeds in cursing one of angel, embedding a thorn of spite in his side. When his brothers leave, he is forced to stay, and since he has nothing else to do, he watches her begin the long, painful process of cleaning and rebuilding. This is a dreamy stream of consciousness book with less plot that I'm used to from Nghi Vo. I'll admit this one captured me less than her work usually does though the prose is very beautiful.

The Concierge at the Hokkyoku Department Store vol 1 by Tsuchika Nishimura 

Akino is a new hire at the Hokkyoku Department Store, a store build to serve talking animal customers including many unusual and nearly extinct species. Akino must find a way to be present, polite and helpful without hovering or intruding on the customers experience. This is harder than it sounds, especially with fussy managers always watching the store floors! Sweet, silly, and very warm hearted. I like the delicate, retro lineart style.

The Gentle Art of Fortune Hunting by KJ Charles read by Cornell Collins 

Another fun historical m/m romance from KJ Charles, this one more in the comedy of manners genre. I had a good time with it, I liked the leads, and as usual the secondary characters really shown. I did wish the enemies part of the enemies to lovers plot had lasted a bit longer, and the overall silliness of the story isn't going to make this the first Charles book I rec to anyone unfamiliar with her work, but it kept me entertained.

Noodle and Bao by Shaina Lu 

Momo loves living in Town 99, a historically Chinese neighborhood where she knows everyone and all the best places to eat and hang out. But things are changing. Her parents are worried about making rent, and her favorite restaurant was kicked out of its location and now operates out of a cart. The owner of the new restaurant, Fancé Cafe, has big plans to buy out the whole block and upscale everything. Momo rallies her friends and neighbors to fight back against the gentrification. This is a very sweet book for young readers, with talking animal characters and whimsical food battles interwoven with community organizing. An epilogue explains the issues around gentrification for a child who might not have encountered it before.

Brownstone by Samuel Leer and Mar Julia 

Almudena grew up with her white mom, always wondering about the Guatemalan father she'd never met. Until one summer mid-high school when her mom heads off to Europe for a dance tour and drops her off at the Brooklyn brownstone her father, Xavier, is renovating. Almudena has to navigate around a language barrier, an through unfamiliar neighborhood, and into a close knit Latino community many of whom see her as not brown enough to count. But Almudena is determined not to let this opportunity to know her father slip away. This is such a warmhearted book, funny and kind, with a really well developed cast. The art and the writing make a perfect whole, capturing a deeply specific mid-1990s moment. I've been following the artist's self published releases for years and I'm so happy to see their work shine in a full length book!

Leap by Simina Pepesco 

Ana is a college student in a contemporary dance program in Budapest, but her heart has fallen out of dancing. She skips her own classes to spent time rehearsing with her secret girlfriend, Carina, an ambitious ballerina in the classical program. Her new roommate, Sara, transferred out of classical and into contemporary and is thriving in the new, more supportive environment. She's also starting to develop feelings for the kind teacher, Marlena, who helped her transfer. Both of them are struggling to figure out their relationships with their art, as well as their sexualities, as well as how safe or not safe it feels to be out at their private, gossip-prone school. This is a really well told and well drawn coming of age story; I also really appreciated it as a story of queer friendship which complicated some of the standard narratives around first crushes/first relationships/coming out being kind of anti-climatic, half affirming, half disappointing. Definitely recommend!

Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar 

What a book! Several of my friends called this one of their top reads of last year and I can see why. The book centers around Cyrus Shams, a poet and recovering addict, who was raised in the US by a single father. The pair left Iran when Cyrus was a baby after his mother was killed in a passenger plane, shot down by mistake by the US army. In his late 20s, Cyrus is mostly drifting through life, working weird part time jobs, sometimes writing, trying to stay sober. He wants to write about the concept of martyrdom, about dying for a cause, or what makes people consider a death meaningful. When he hears of a Persian artist literally hosting her last weeks as she dies of cancer in the Brooklyn Museum of Art, Cyrus flies to New York City to speak with her. Their conversations will impact him more than he could ever have dreamed. This is an usually structured book, full of flashbacks, alternate POVs, dream sequences. It's rich with layers of symbolism and meaning, especially with repeated references to names, to lineage, to legacy, the lingering trauma of violence and revolution, and what a life of art demands from the artist. This book surprised and moved me. I'm delighted that it was chosen by my book club, so I've got a lengthy conversation with friends about this book to look forward to!

The Eyre Affair by Jasper Fforde read by Susan Duerden 

The Eyre Affair is a mystery-crime-sci-fi-comedy novel for the literary nerd. It is set in England in an alternate universe version of the 1980s, in which cloning of extinct animals for household pets is common, time travel looked down on as wretched career choice, and literary crimes get their own whole division in the police force. Thursday Next is a veteran of the Crimean War (which has been running more than a century) and a Lit Crimes special agent- her expertise is immediately needed when a priceless Dickens' manuscript is stolen by a thief whose image does not register on film. Things quickly get strange- and also hilarious.

Re-read in 2025: I revisited this after reading and loving Jasper Fforde's stand alone sci-fi novel Early Riser last year. Unfortunately, The Eyre Affair suffered in comparison- the main villain of the book is very weak, and I can now see the pacing issues of this debut novel. I still found it very funny and probably caught more of the classic lit jokes than I did last time, but it's no longer the Fforde novel I'd suggest people start with. Try one of his more recent works! 

She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat vol 3 by Sakaomi Yuzaki translated by Caleb Cook

This series just keeps getting more and more adorable! This volume introduced two new characters, and I braced for a moment hoping they wouldn't be rivals to the main couple, who are very slowly beginning to flirt. I should not have doubted!! Both newbies immediately seen that Nomoto and Kasuga are interested in each other and begin to cheer lead/wing man from the sides. Plus, in the author's note, the author talks about selling merch for a Japanese organization supporting marriage equality. I can't wait to read more!

[angels-read-fanfiction-too]

okay yes i've been gone for like two months but WHATEVER! JERRY STOKES FANFICTION RN!

Established relationship sickfic!

Warnings: Vomit and swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Can i come in, please?"

Jerry had told you on Friday that he was going to a friends house for the weekend to perform an impressive 32 hour sci-fi marathon! You weren't going to stop him despite your hope to hang out on Saturday, it sounded fun! Bonding, staying up, fun chats, junk food!

It was not fun.

Jerry now stood at your door at 10pm on a Sunday in a vomit stained t-shirt 5 times too big for him, sickly pale skin littered with bruises, blood and cuts, a defeated look on his gaud face and a hazy look in his eyes that made you worried he would pass out on your doorstep. You almost didn't let him in with how much he reeked of sweat, blood and vomit but you needed to. "Jesus christ, Jerry! Come in, please, i'll get you some water and just sit down!" You quickly ushered him in, giving him your hand which was met with him clinging onto your arm. You didn't mind! Honestly! Okay, maybe a little with his breath of cheezits and stomach acid, but you were happy he felt okay to depend on you like that. He sat down on the staircase, the first thing he could find to rest on, and you rushed off to the kitchen to grab some water. As you did so, Jerry wondered to himself why he even did this... He thought it would be great but now he's humiliated himself in front of his partner. He kinda hated himself right now.

"Here you go, Jer. Drink up and you'll feel better. I'm so sorry i wasn't there, what happened?" Handing him the water, you began to ramble in an almost motherly concern for him that tended to come out frequently due to how often he got himself hurt. A blush covered Jerry's cheeks and ears as he felt how deeply you cared for him. He quickly drank up and let out a belch that made you nervous he'd vomit on your mothers new carpet. "Josh was being a fucking idiot and he made us drink coffee-" His stomach loudly grumbled which just made you more nervous. "Okay it's time to go to my room!" You pulled up his sluggish body from under his armpits like a misbehaving cat and helped him upstairs "I'm really sorry... We didn't mean it to end up like this and my mom and dad would be so mad if i came home like this." Jerry spoke with a horse voice as he clung onto you. You sighed in pity and gave him a kiss on his hair, somehow picking up both blood and Dorito crumbs? No more kisses until he has a shower, it's not worth it. You truly put up a lot with this boy but at least the kiss seemed to help him, putting a gentle smile on his face. He sat down on your bed and immediately gets comfortable in it, even taking one of your stuffed animals into your arms as he closed his eyes. He only muttered, "Im gonna sleep here..." Before immediately conking out. He certainly needed it, he could barely get up the stairs without closing his eyes, yet this was a pretty difficult situation. You hadn't told your mother that he's come over, there's school tomorrow, his parents are probably wondering where he is, but as you see him asleep after such an obviously difficult day, you suddenly don't mind. Pulling the duvet over him, you tried your best not to wake him and left a kiss on his cheek. Maybe this last kiss was worth it.

[chappellrroan]

hey babe okay so I saw the first episode and let me tell u u thirsting about helly r (or helen? im guessing that's her outside name) is soo valid and justified she's very pretty and she's banging on doors screaming to get out and throwing things so I obviously admire her lol also this scout guy omg I cannot take him seriously he was a joke character in the good place it was so funny I keep thinking of him but except for that hmmm it's kinda interesting but I fell asleep like 5 times😭 why is it so slow vio why do they show stupid things like him walking through a white hallway and tying his shoelaces i guess am just used to sitcoms i cannot watch these slowpokes I hope i didn't miss anything important my favourite scene yet from just ep1 was scout sobbing in his car before going to work (haha been there done that) and also helly's video she's so animated corporates will truly kill us all this concept is wild tho but like. it's. i thought that wow i can't keep you're giving away one third of your life to a corporation and you're not even going to remember it like how can you waste it lifeis sooo precious. but then I think about all the precious hours i spent in my office formatting idiotic word documents because my seniors said the font looks bad the spacing is incorrect and how tired I was that I just came home and fell asleep and I'm like oh. i loved that line the boss lady said that humans imagined hell but it doesn't exist but the scary part is that what humans can imagine, they can create. so we all gonna die. but anyway yes that's my review of the first episode.i think i definitely missed some important things like i remember seeing some very old guy talking and suddenly he's like I'm petey and I'm like wait YOU'RE petey? where did u come from? but I'll figure it out lol maybe I didn't sleep enough last night

you'll only fall more and more in love with helly lol (also try not to get spoiled by my posts here because i need to see you react to everything a hundred percent authentic). okay in show's defence it's trying to show and not tell, that's why the first episode might seem a bit boring and slow but trust me it'll speed up by end of 2nd episode. the walking thing is show you the shift in his mannersims how outside he seemed depressed and crying while when his innie (aka the severed self) had absolutely no idea at all (the puzzled look at the wet tissue paper and throwing it) the changing of shoes because he isn't allowed to wear outside ones inside it'd have probably make his innie wonder why they're wet (i am realising this as we speak tbh, because his innie has no idea about sky sun snow weather etc) and give him a chance okay forget his previous characters RIGHTTTT it seems like a fucked up concept but if it was possible i am sure soo many companies would take advantage of it to prey on depressed/naive people. like it sounds nice as a concept but (you'll realise this as you watch) in fact is inhuman to that the other part of yourself that is consistently working. lmao that's miss cobel for you, tell me more about how you feel about her as you go on. also get some sleep and try not to be too worried about catching all the symbolism you'll get them as you go plus we have tumblr to discuss anyways mwah

[kotemf]

Stargazing

My first fill for @codywanfirstkissbingo 2025, kiss on the cheek.

Being away from Kamino was weird. It wasn't bad, Cody was glad he was out of there. It was a good kind of weird. A good kind of weird that wasn't letting him sleep.

The rooms in the Jedi temple that were assigned to the clones were so different from Kamino! The familiar buzzing of droids cleaning the corridors, the clashing waves, the constant storm outside, that was all replaced by the humming of traffic of Coruscant, the quiet gurgling of the water fountains somewhere in the temple, the occasional sounds of the animals that lived in the gardens... Even the smell was different, the Kamino facility always smelled like the cleaning product that the Kaminoans used to sanitize the place, the scent of the temple was one that Cody couldn't quite name but it was warm and comforting. He kind of liked how the temple felt but that didn't make it less weird.

Wolffe snored loudly at the other end of the room as he shifted a bit in his sleep. That was another difference from Kamino. While batches shared rooms on Kamino too, they all had soundproof bunks. Cody didn't really know how he felt about the beds they got in the Jedi temple. They were soft, which was a clear plus. And they could talk after bedtime or make sleeping piles sometimes, Cody was glad they weren't isolated for the night. But the snoring of his brothers, their breathing, the rustling of their sheets when they moved in their sleep... All the sounds were making it hard to sleep.

Cody finally gave up after almost an hour of unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep. He knew that he wasn't going to get in trouble if he went for a short walk, if he ran into some Jedi master, he would probably just be told to go to sleep. He was still careful not to run into anyone.

"Cody?"

Of course he wasn't successful. He turned around to see who found him. It was one of the padawans Cody's batch had a few lessons with. The one that Cody, for a reasons unknown to him, felt drawn to. It was a bit like when he saw Rex in the mess hall once and somehow felt that he needed to make friends with the younger clone. Only this was different, somehow. "Padawan Kenobi." Cody nodded in greeting. His instincts told him to salute to the Jedi, that's what the Kaminoans taught them, but the Jedi didn't like it when the clones saluted them.

The young Jedi chuckled. Cody wasn't sure what was funny. "You know, you could just call me Obi-Wan. Especially when we happen to meet in an empty in the middle of the night."

"That would be unprofessional."

"Is there a need to be professional at one in the morning in a dark corridor?"

"I suppose not," Cody admitted.

"Then you can call me by my name." The Jedi grinned and for some reason, that made Cody feel real weird. But it was a good weird, just like everything in the temple seemed to be. "What are you even doing here?"

"I couldn't sleep," Cody admitted.

"That makes two of us." Padawan Kenobi smiled again and manda, there was something wrong with Cody, his cheeks certainly shouldn't be heating up every time the Jedi smiled. "Come on, I will show you my secret spot."

"Your secret spot?" Cody repeated dumbly.

"Well, it's not that secret..." The padawan's cheeks darkened and Cody wondered if he should ask if he was okay. "It's just the place where I go when I can't sleep. It always helps me relax."

"Oh."

"So... Are you going?"

Well, this was technically an order, right? And Cody couldn't refuse an order, could he? So he had no choice but to follow the Jedi. "Okay. Lead the way." He let the other boy lead him through the maze of corridors that was the Jedi temple until they found themselves on the roof. What were they doing there? Cody was pretty sure they weren't allowed to go there.

Obi-Wan didn't seem concerned in any way. He just sat down at a random spot near the edge and looked at Cody expectantly. "Are you going to sit down?"

Did that classify as an order? Probably. "Of course." Cody settled down next to the Jedi. He still didn't know why did the Jedi lead him there. Would it be inappropriate to ask? Or would it look like he was questioning the padawan's orders? Obi-Wan seemed nice so far... He probably wouldn't mind if Cody asked nicely. "With all due respect... Why are we here?"

"You can't see it?"

Cody looked around. "I don't think so."

"Then look again," Obi-Wan prompted and it sounded a bit as if he was making fun of Cody. Was he? "Come on, Cody. Look straight ahead. What do you see?"

"The sky."

"Exactly! Isn't the view beautiful?" The padawan was looking at him with excitement in his pretty blue eyes. Wait. Did Cody just subconsciously add an unnecessary adjective? Why would he do that? Not that the Jedi's eyes weren't beautiful. It was just Cody has never been one for inserting extra words into his sentences, his thoughts were always straight to the point. So why did the Jedi's eyes somehow belong with the word pretty, his fiery hair with stunning, his voice with sweet, his soft features with cute and his whole being with perfect? "Uh... Cody?"

"Oh..." Cody realized now he never answered the question. He was acting defective. Maybe he should really get a medical check up. "The view is... It's nice." Only now he really took the time to look at the sky, at all the little lights above them and he couldn't help but gasp. The padawan was right, the view really was beautiful. Through not nearly as much as the young Jedi next to him. And there were the treacherous thoughts again...

"Right! Look!" Obi-Wan caught Cody's hand and guided it to point in a specific direction. It took Cody an embarrassingly long time to recover from the blackout that followed. He could barely focus on anything but the nice feeling of the Jedi's slightly cool hand gripping his own, pointing somewhere into the sky. "That's the Mudhorn constellation. And that there is called Jedi Knight."

"Oh." Cody didn't even really register the meaning of Obi-Wan's words but he sure liked to listen to his sweet, excited voice.

"Can you see that really small constellation? That's Wine Glass. Through I have no idea why is it called that, it looks more like a pencil. And right next to it is the Temple constellation. That one is my favorite. It supposedly looks like an ancient temple on Jedha. It's my favorite..."

Cody didn't even notice how much time has passed until the Jedi suddenly stopped babbling about the stars and said it was getting too late. He was right, of course. They were both supposed to be in their beds, sleeping. He was still disappointed. He was probably not going to get to talk to the Jedi like this ever again.

"... but maybe we could meet up again tomorrow?" Obi-Wan suggested. It took Cody a few seconds to understand what he just said but he couldn't be happier.

"Yeah!" That sounded way too enthusiastic... "I mean, I would like that."

"Great, me too. See you here tomorrow night?"

"Yeah, sure." Cody couldn't do anything but smile dumbly. He was so giddy! And then the padawan leaned closer and Cody's heart started beating so fast he was sure he was, after all, defective. His face felt so hot! What was it that the Jedi's presence was doi- Obi-Wan kissed his cheek gently before he quickly pulled away. Cody noticed his cheeks were burning red but the Jedi was already rushing away.

"See ya!"

Cody held his hand up in an awkward wave and was left standing on the temple roof, alone. But his heart didn't seem to want to stop beating ridiculously fast.