#Early Devil Hunting Content

[byeyoubayou]

Just look at this amazing commission I received from the incredible @re-unknown for my upcoming fic “You, Me, and Eternity”???!!!! I cannot stop staring at it I AM IN GODDAMN LOVE

My fic:

It’s a lot of fun even though it’s only in the first draft stage. Rough synopsis of You, Me, and Eternity (6 parts):

New Orleans, 1927. Alastor de Rivière, aspiring radio host with a penchant for jazz, rhye, and “hunting” meets a man claiming to be the king of hell on the best and worst day of his life. But the man hasn’t come topside for his soul and wants his heart instead?! Alastor’s answer is of course no. Ha! As if “no” ever stopped the devil…

Or the one where human!Alastor meets the literal devil after a summoning gone wrong, refuses to believe it, and accidentally ends up playing house with Lucifer for the next six years of his highly unconventional life until his own inevitable demise in 1933.

Early major warnings for violence, suggestive themes, and other unsettling content. But at least the history nerd in me gets to dive head first into early twentieth century Louisiana history and culture. But I’m mostly in it for simp!Lucifer who will stop at nothing to win Alastor’s twisted little heart~

@durch-hali thank you for inspiring me to finally start writing this damned thing!

[spitefulsatanfics]

𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐦 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞...

— by little devil 🕯️

pairing: sam winchester x she/her reader

tone: soft angst, domestic fluff, soulbond-core tenderness, supernatural vibes

genre: canon-compliant headcanon list told through mini fanfiction scenes

rating: pg-13 for language, emotional content, and yearning synopsis: falling in love with Sam Winchester is quiet at first. And then it's everything.

📖 Waking Up to the Sound of Pages Turning

Sam doesn’t sleep much—not deeply, anyway. But when he does, it’s always with his hand on your hip and his brow still slightly furrowed, like even in his dreams he’s working something out.

When you wake, it’s to the sound of gentle page-flipping and the steam of early morning coffee. He’s at the table, glasses low on his nose, wearing the flannel you slept in last week.

“Morning,” he murmurs, voice still sleep-warmed. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You shuffle over and drop into his lap. He doesn’t even blink—just adjusts his book so you can read too.

🌧️ Rainy Day Research Dates in Crappy Motels

You're both cross-legged on the bed, books open, laptops glowing.

“So I’m thinking maybe it’s a Mayan vengeance spirit,” you say, frowning. “Or a Cihuateteo,” he offers. “They target families—specifically mothers.”

Outside, rain patters against the window like a lullaby. Inside, Sam passes you half a granola bar and smiles like it’s a gift from the gods.

You lean your shoulder into his. He leans back. It’s the simplest form of intimacy, but it anchors you both like magic could never do.

🐺 Sam’s Protective Streak is Quiet but Deadly

“He was looking at you weird,” Sam says after the hunt, jaw clenched. “He was the bartender, Sam.” “Still.”

He doesn’t snap or growl or flex. He just goes still—that eerie, watchful calm that only Sam Winchester can pull off. But when someone threatens you? That calm becomes a calculated, terrifying storm.

“Touch her again,” he says to the creature in the alley, “and you’ll never see daylight again.”

You’ve never seen anything die so fast.

🌌 Midnight Talks That Spiral Into Existential Philosophy and Hand-Holding

You’re lying on your backs in a field post-hunt. The stars are out in full force, and you both smell like sulfur and smoke and victory.

“Do you ever think about fate?” you ask. “Every day,” he replies, voice low. “Especially since I met you.”

You turn to look at him. He’s already watching you.

Your pinkies brush. Then your hands thread together like you’ve always known how.

🥣 Surprise Domesticity That Feels Like a Lifetime in a Moment

You come back from the laundromat and Sam’s in the tiny kitchenette making soup. The kind with real vegetables, not just noodles and hope.

He looks up, sheepish.

“Thought you might be hungry.”

You stare at him in his hoodie and bare feet, stirring soup like some impossibly tall dream. Something about the whole thing hits you like a truck.

“Marry me.” “What?” he laughs, blinking. “Nothing. Just—thank you.”

You’ll ask him for real someday. Probably. Maybe.

📚 Reading You to Sleep Because He Absolutely Does That

He picks out classics and mythologies—stuff he knows you like. Sometimes it’s lore, sometimes it’s poetry, sometimes it's just his voice.

“And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting—” “—on the pallid bust of Pallas, just above my chamber door,” you murmur sleepily.

He smiles and closes the book, letting his fingers brush your hair back.

“Goodnight, Poe girl.”

🧃 Remembering the Smallest, Strangest Details About You

You once mentioned you liked grape juice. Like... once. In passing. Six towns and three hunts later, he places one beside your coffee.

“They had it at the gas station,” he shrugs, eyes gleaming. “Thought of you.”

Sam Winchester doesn’t just remember anniversaries. He remembers the way your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating, the time you cried during that one commercial, and the exact brand of pens you like.

🩹 Tending to Your Wounds With Holy Water and Shaking Hands

He’s patching you up. Again. You’re making jokes to distract him, but his eyes are locked on the wound and his jaw is tight.

“Sam, I’m fine—” “You almost weren’t.”

His hands pause. His voice breaks.

“I—I can’t lose you, Y/N. I won’t. I won’t survive it.”

You take his hand, press it to your ribs where your heart still beats. He closes his eyes like it’s the only sound keeping him sane.

✍🏻 Writing in His Journal About You (Even If He’ll Never Admit It)

There’s a page with your name on it. You catch a glimpse once when you’re looking for lore on a curse. Just your name. A few bullet points. Little things.

Makes really good coffee when she tries

Calls me out when I overwork myself

Laughs in her sleep

Beautiful even when she’s pissed at me

Might be it for me

You don’t say anything. Just press a kiss to his shoulder and pretend you never saw it.

🕯️ The Quiet Kind of Love That Fills the Cracks in Your Soul

Sam Winchester won’t shout it from the rooftops. He doesn’t need to. His love is in the way he double-checks your seatbelt, the way he hands you the good pillow, the way he says your name like it’s a prayer.

“You’re it for me,” he whispers one night, voice barely there. “If I get to keep one thing, just one… I want it to be you.”

And you know—no matter how dark the road gets, how bloody the work becomes—his hand will find yours in the dark. Every time.

𓆩📖𓆪 Loving Sam Winchester feels like ancient poetry, like library dust on fingertips, like firelight and absolution.

He doesn’t just love you. He believes in you. In your goodness. In your strength. In the fact that maybe—just maybe—you’re the only light worth following.

𓆩📖𓆪

[stealingyourbones]

Prompt Idea: Danny has plot armor.

To start off, Danny’s whole family knows he’s Phantom, and they had to run from Amity because of the GIW. They wind up in Gotham because that’s the one place that The Government doesn’t really mess with.

The reason behind Danny’s plot armor is that in this world, Danny became incredibly overprotective of his friends and family in order to make sure he doesn’t wind up as Dan, ironically making the chance of that happening much greater than before.

In order to prevent this, Clockwork gives Danny and his family a blessing. It works like this.

Imagine you rolled a dice. To Clockwork, there are now 6+ possible alternate timelines that can ensue. Clockwork’s blessing allows those possible timelines to be restricted to only one or two, all of them good for the Fenton family.

In effect, it was like plot armor. Scarecrow attacks a library with Jazz inside? Oh, looks like her parents need her to pick up Danny early, or she drank too much water and needs to go to the bathroom, which just so happens to have a window just in reach that she can escape from.

Maddy needs to get a job? Well, Jazz’s university needs a new chemistry professor (last one was kidnapped by a rogue) and they’re in a bit of a rush so they’ll skip looking for a teaching certificate. No one cares anyways, it’s Gotham.

Jack needs something to do? Well, besides hunting ghosts, he’d always wanted to open a food truck! With Jazzy making sure nothings contaminated and some (slightly modified) recipes from the Ghost Zone, he can finally chase his dream in a big city with his Phantom Food Vehicle! He wonders what some of those shady men came up to him for, or that odd stout fella in the tux.

(The Phantom Food Truck has become a recent cryptid in Gotham. Except it’s not a cryptid, because everyone’s seen the video of the truck hurtling down the street like it’s chasing down the devil, cop cars and vigilantes alike on its tail. And yet, no one could find it. Not even the Bats. That’s about when everyone gave up. When they learned that you don’t find it, the Phantom Food Truck finds you.)

As for Danny? He’s entirely unaware of this, to focused on keeping his head down. It works, for a while. Before fate came knocking in the form of a wicked smile, as if there solely to ruin his day.

The Joker wasn’t having a good day either. He started out having a jolly old time, joker toxin gassing a small high school, making sure to leave macabre presents for his dear Batsy, and then what happens? This random kid just starts running around, helping students, saving teachers, what’s he gonna do next huh? Save a cat from a tree?

What’s worse, his useless henchmen couldn’t even land a hit on the kid! He swears, Bill doesn’t even seem to be trying.

Whatever, they managed to corner the brat, looked like he was standing in front of some other children. So Joker lines the shot, and he fires.

The gun jams.

Alrighty, he takes one from a random mook, and he shoots again.

The gun jams.

No one’s moving at this point. Where there was once dread and tension in the air, there’s just confusion. So Joker points the gun at a goon, pulls the trigger, the shot goes off.

He turns back to the Robin-ish looking twink, and he pulls the trigger.

The gun jams.

And as he starts walking towards the kid to just kill it himself, he wakes up in the Arkham hospital wing with his last memory of the encounter being him slipping on the glowing green contents of some weird looking thermos that the kid had thrown earlier in the fight. What the FUCK was that.

Clockwork doesn’t even care how pissed the Observers are any more, this is hilarious.

it's to the point of ridiculousness that the Bats have an entire file on Danny and they think he's a meta with a luck ability and nothing else.

[dolliestfairy]

𔓘 Tw : Yandere, Dark Content, Spiritual Relationship, Jealousy, the word 'Rot' Mentioned, unholy thoughts, Virginity-take, Dubcon, Marriage, Unwanted pregnancy at the end (?) lmk if i miss anything. Chubby Reader Fics with no Skintone of Reader mentioned.

Do not cross any further Boundaries if this isnt your cup of tea. Dont like it? just block.

thinking abt yandere spirit who are in love with chubby!soft!witch!reader.

Yandere spirit who spending his after-death life with regret because he really blame himself for not meeting you early enough to fuck your fat pussy.

Yandere spirit who is sooo eager to fuck you, seeing you go around with your tight dress that almost made your asscheeks and boobs go explode expose.

Yandere spirit who ask you to do something with him just so he can touch you like a human does.

Yandere spirit who is soo jealous when other people start to touching you without your constent at all. guess someone is going to get hunted this night huh?

Yandere spirit who likes to touch your thights when you were sleeping. putting his hands into your thights while rubbing it softly. as he drown himself in with thoughts of how your soft body texture would feel around his hands.

Yandere spirit who wished you to be dead sooner with him just so you can be together with him forever. seeing other people trying to get into you closer making him gawk.

Yandere spirit who soon enough -- declares a Marriage between you and him in a Village of Spirit or what-so-ever.

Yandere spirit who swears on his life and after-dead life that he would always be there for you even when his flesh was rotting. well i mean.. his flesh was rotting only for you too.

Yandere spirit who cant even explain with words how happy he was when his fingers start to opened up your fatty pussy, as his heads start to move forward to it while his tongue is out -- ready to eat his after-dead meal.

and after all of that dead dreams of his, we finally met to the end; he claimed all of your maidenhood. all of it, all the things you dont know about -- to all the things about sex that was quite popular in the time where he was once lived. where he was once have a dream to try it out, but sadly enough the reaper was fast enough to grab his lifefull soul. and now, its his turn -- as he grab all your maidenhoods that night. and at the early morning, where a blessing from a devils arrived. where you would find the shock of the news that you are carrying his baby just at that moment. yes, your baby. you and his baby. the dead 's baby.

NANAMI, KAISER, Itoshi Brothers, Itto, XIAO, SCARAMOUCHE, Shibura, SEMI EITA, jiraiya, Sugawara, Tsukishima Kei, KAGEYAMA TOBIO, Itachi, CHOSO, Megumi, Gojo, MADARA, Hashirama, DEIDARA, Sasori, Al-Haitam, ZHONGLI, CHILDE, Kaeya, QIN SHI HUANG, Poseidon, OBITO, Kakashi, ALEC, Jack The Ripper, DOUMA, ENMU, Akaza, Muzan, SAKAMAKI AYATO, SAKAMAKI LAITO, Mukami Kou, Sakamaki Reiji, Oikawa, & SHIGARAKI.

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Chapter 40

One More Chance

Pairings: Cross Guild Polycule x Shanks x Fem!Reader x ???

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 12.7k+

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Chapter Tunes: Run Rabbit ~ ALT BLK ERA | Broken (feat. Amy Lee) ~ Seether

Summary: The Hunt is nearing its end, but it's still too early to tell who your favorite is. At least not before that red-haired Hunter claims the final date tonight.

Ch. 39 Recap: Detailed recap is directly below the cut!

Author's Note: This one is big, and not just the wordcount. I hope you enjoy the ride! 🥰

Dark Content Warning: No bracketed scenes, but brace yourself for Uncle Cedrick and some Sylvad family bullshit. And ya know... the feels, as usual 💜

Also, I hope everyone remembers the tag/warning: Cross Guild Boys are VILLAINS. It’s been there since day one, so 🤷‍♀️

Extra Tags/Warnings:

Alternate POV Symbols:

🌲 ~ Reader | 🐊 ~ Crocodile | 🗡 ~ Mihawk | 🤡 ~ Buggy | 🔴 ~ Shanks | 🐈 ~ Kat |⏰ ~ Flashbacks for listed POV | ⚫ ~ Scenes depicting Dark Content as listed in Author's Notes

!!! SPOILER WARNING !!! This fic (And This Chapter in Particular!) contains spoilers for current One Piece plotlines!!! Sorry y'all, I've been trying to keep most spoilers small or vague details, but Cross Guild is endgame, lol.

Rating/Warnings: Author May Choose to Exclude some Warnings to Avoid Spoilers for Certain Chapters, Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Use of Y/N, Dark Content, Blood & Violence, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Dissociation, Mental Illness, Grief, Hospitals, Doctors, Mental Health Treatment, Toxic Family, Childhood Trauma, Swearing, Alcohol, Cigars, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Guilt, Drama, Jealousy, Manipulation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Relationship Drama, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Shameless Shameless Smut, Uncle Cedrick Has Become His Own Warning, Death of an Unnamed Character, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

Ch. 39 Recap:

Reader had to say goodbye to the man of her dreams on Uncle Cedrick's orders. He claimed that he was being generous, but that Iceburg didn't have anything they couldn't buy.

Crocodile tried to find anything useful in the recordings of his sweet girl at the asylum, but all he saw was that fifteen year old girl breaking, and that doctor praising her for admitting what she was: a monster.

Kat struggled to pretend while her sister had to keep smiling at the villainous Vinsmokes.

Mihawk found purpose again, a feeling he'd forgotten. He kept up his hunt through the seedy underworld, following the trail of greed while he left a trail of blood behind him.

Reader managed to relax and enjoy the second date with Katakuri. That Sweet Commander was too sweet, but Reader still couldn't make any promises.

Shanks felt desperate as his failures kept growing, until he finally hit his mark. He had sworn to become a villain to save Buggy's star, yet he would have preferred violence over the threats he made against Katakuri's little sister.

Reader managed to avoid being alone with Yonji during his second date, at the cost of his soldier's pain while he beat them bloody. She praised him, and managed to pretend during the breakfast the next morning. Neither Kat nor Reiju had joined them for breakfast, and the thought of her sister being happy helped Reader keep up her smile.

Now, the Hunt is nearing its end. The wedding will be in two days, but first Reader must face the final date, and the red-haired traitor that wants to claim her for himself.

One More Chance

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Run, little rabbit. Please, run away.

This island was lush, abundant, a thing of true beauty.

Yet the sight of that wild rabbit hopping through the courtyard made you want to scream. If only you could move, you would run to it, protect it from the hunters and their hungry arrows, their greedy fingers, their gluttonous mouths.

That little bunny never stood a chance.

Uncle Cedrick had already snapped his fingers for his bow, all eyes on him while he aimed for the helpless creature that was stupid and unlucky enough to interrupt him.

Looking away didn’t save you from the little horror. The image of the rabbit’s extravagant death was spread too large across the screens, and your cowardly move to look away only trapped you more.

A hunter’s eyes tore through you, and you choked down stupid hope that you might survive longer than the creature that was bleeding its life away onto the pretty cobblestones while leeches and wolves applauded its dying breaths.

Those soft, brown eyes were arrows, and you knew that you were nothing to that greedy hunter but something to capture, to claim.

You were nothing but a little bunny to him, and tonight it was his turn to win you. To claim you.

His lips curled just slightly, a wicked little smirk that would have made your skin crawl if you hadn’t been holding in every piece of yourself that you could.

The screen behind that red-haired hunter showed a servant lifting that prize into the air, blood staining all that pure, white fur.

You returned Shanks’ smile, hoping that your death would be as quick as that little bunny’s if he was the one that caught you.

Hoping you would feel his blood on your hands first.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

The Great Red Haired Shanks was drowning. He couldn’t fucking hear a thing, could hardly breathe unless he could watch the rise and fall of her breath, nearly bolting across the courtyard whenever she’d hold it in for too long.

Her eyes caught his, and cruel hope filled him.

Shanks smiled at that wounded star, aching for tonight.

I just need one more chance.

Y/N’s smile was perfect. So very sweet that the leeches around him began to swoon over the berries they’d bet on him winning the lovely heiress.

Her smile was anything but sweet. That charming pirate had seen behind the mask, catching just a flash of hate shining through every glance she sent his way.

I’m gonna save you, Y/N. I promise.

“Sorry about the mess,” Cedrick bragged while he drew everyone’s attention back to himself and his twisted, little game. “I know you all have been dying to hear from our lovebirds after that delightfully savage tournament last night—”

“My apologies for the interruption…”

Cedrick managed to rein himself in, but Shanks caught that flash of rage in his eyes when the towering hunter cut him off. He didn’t seem to be as good at pretending as Y/N, at least not when someone else was hogging all the attention.

“But of course, Katakuri,” Sylvad bowed his head just a fraction while the hunter kneeled before the little stage he shared with his niece. “You’re well known for your impeccable manners, so I imagine it must be important.”

“It is.”

Shanks didn’t want to watch this. He’d already downed the sparkling wine they’d poured into another carved glass for him this morning, so there was nothing to help him swallow his shame.

He had promised to become a villain for her. It was for her. For Buggy. For Mihawk.

He had to save her.

But that wounded star had stopped breathing again while she waited for that sweet commander to speak.

Was it really for her?

She still wasn’t breathing.

It wasn’t for her, was it? I came here for Buggy. For Mihawk. I came here to soothe my own fucking guilt.

No. I came here to use her again. To get what I want.

Shanks wasn’t good at pretending, unless his own delusions counted. He had truly believed that he was a good man.

What kind of man believes he’s good? Believes he’s better than others because he does what’s right? What he decides is right?

Who the fuck am I to decide what’s right?

Even with waves of self-loathing and guilt crushing his greedy heart, that Emperor of the Sea couldn’t stop.

He just held his own breath until she stopped holding hers.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Of course. Of course, your last hope was kneeling before you. It felt like the cruel twist of a knife that you could tell he wasn’t smiling beneath those feathers. You were a fucking idiot for getting attached, for getting to know this lovely dream too well before it ended.

Katakuri’s deep voice barely reached you, hitting just enough to confirm what you already knew.

It’s over.

“I am so sorry, Y/N,” that voice failed to soothe. “I want to stay with you, to take you with me, but my family needs me now. I must protect them. I’m sorry—”

“I understand,” some alien part of you spoke. Leeches made noises over your sweetness, but you weren’t sweet. You were empty. A doll with nothing inside. “Thank you, Katakuri. I hope your family is safe.”

Those crimson eyes saw you too deep and you needed to scream. The need was so intense, it felt like the screams were tearing you apart. So close to falling to your knees,

Leave. Just leave. Go away. Please!

Family. What a fucking joke.

Fuck. Now you were about to start laughing. This was not good.

Katakuri had moved slightly, but he tilted his head while he studied you. He seemed to pull his hand away before he’d reached for you, and you were grateful when he left without another word.

There were so many words around you now. So many sticky, pointless words, some of them from your own lips.

You were hardly there while you made it through the interview with Yonji, hardly there while you praised that rabid, little puppy dog whose hands pulled you too close. Like you were his favorite chew toy.

A flash of red caught your eye, but you couldn’t look at that other hunter while you praised the one beside you on the stupid, green couch he’d brought with him.

Numbers. Counting. Math. That would help you get through this.

Three minus one is two.

Two minus one is...

One hunter would leave you drugged and strapped to another table, only this time you’d be dissected, violated, forced to birth monsters until you died.

The other hunter made you sick with hate, with disgust. The traitor that broke Buggy’s heart, that used you to steal him away, only to abandon him again. A dangerous man, a monster. Just a fucking leech that couldn’t get what he wanted from your dead father, so now he would hurt anyone in his path to tear it from your flesh.

A hunter claiming his prey, with not a thought for the pain the rabbit must feel while its heart’s blood spilled at his feet.

Either choice meant death.

Pros and cons.

You weren’t naive enough to think that you had a real chance at killing an Emperor of the Sea. Even if you did, you’d be trapped on a ship full of terrifying pirates that he’d threatened to punish you with the first night you met.

Both options were torture, but red grew in your mind. It spread, slow and thick like the blood of the man that was killed just for insulting you.

Shanks had hurt Buggy. He would hurt him again if he got the chance.

I’ll kill him for Buggy. At least I can do something for him before it’s over. If I can kill him, then everything else is fine.

But you couldn’t kill him tonight. Tonight, you would pretend, you’d please the monster, so he’d steal you for himself. Tonight, you would use him to forget the world.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~

Red Haired Shanks was always searching. Not for treasure or glory, but for the perfect tavern.

For years, every tavern was fine, filled with bunnies and booze, laughter and ease, but every now and then he’d find what he needed.

“There you are,” Shanks whistled as he raised his mug. “You never know who you’ll run into at a tavern, eh, old friend?”

“We’re not friends, asshole,” Buggy spat, already so flustered and cute when Shanks leaned against his shoulder at the sticky bar top before he leaned away. “We’re enemies.”

“Come on, Bugs, it’s been a couple of years since last time, hasn’t it,” the redhead coaxed. It felt as though the world was falling away, nothing but that lovely clown and the unacceptable space between them. “At least let me buy you a drink. Something sweet?”

He held in his laugh at the way Buggy frowned, the way everything about him was so bright, so vivid. Shanks studied every movement until he saw the shift in those crystal eyes, and he couldn’t help but scrape his bottom lip through his teeth at the feeling of victory it gave him.

“Ugh, fine! But only because you owe me,” the clown sighed, his skin a bit flushed beneath his greasepaint while he downed his drink.

“Lead the way then, old friend,” Shanks purred. His body was tingling when he gestured toward the nearly empty tables in this shitty, wonderful tavern. Finally, the world felt right again.

~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

“Just follow me, star,” Buggy soothed your panicked breaths. “You know your captain will catch you, don’t you?”

“Yes, Captain, it’s just—oh gods!”

You were too breathless to pout at his smug laughter while you clung to him, the only anchor within reach. Buggy had guided your steps, holding your hands while he floated beside you, but you’d barely moved across the tightrope before slipping off, and into his waiting arms.

“Come on, I’m not about to let my flashy financial advisor go splat,” he teased, and you couldn’t hold in your squeal while he floated you in circles toward the ceiling of one of the many true circus tents in Buggy Town.

“Financial advisor’s usually work at a desk, you know,” you pleaded, closing your eyes against the striped tent that spun around and around, faster and faster. “On the ground!”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

The heat and danger in your clown’s voice sent your thoughts away. No frustration, no fear, just Buggy. Right here, right now.

“My pretty star shouldn’t be stuck on the ground,” he taunted while he floated even higher. “Will you shine up here with me, baby? I won’t let you fall too far.”

“I know, Buggy,” you managed to gasp while he tossed you just enough to shift your position in his arms. He stopped spinning to let you cling to him, wrapping your legs around his waist while you tried not to look down. “I know you’ll save me.”

Those words felt dangerous, but the look in Buggy’s eyes made everything disappear. His slow, crooked smile sent warmth through your body, even while he spun through the air again.

“Of course I will,” your clown yelled a bit too close to your ear, and you giggled before he kissed the sound away. Buggy ate at your lips, desperate for the taste of you.  His hunger pulled little moans and whines from your lips while he gripped you tighter around his body.

Still hanging on to him with your arms around his neck, you grinded against the hard length of him, always so fucking needy for you.

“Fuck, baby,” he broke the kiss with a groan. Gloved fingers dug into the meat of your ass, until he wrapped one arm around your back to hold you steady, still bobbing too high above the three rings you kept forgetting were there. Until he tugged the glove from his free hand off with his teeth, letting it fall and fall while his bare fingers teased along your thigh. “My girl’s so fucking good for me. Can I—”

“I need you, Buggy.” You had said that the night you met, that truth growing more with every moment that he stole you from the world. “Please—gods, yes!”

He was still floating, still standing in the air while you clung to him, yet Buggy managed to curl his fingers beneath the costume he’d picked for your tight rope act. He pushed that shiny fabric aside before working himself into you while your eyes watered at his wicked praise, his panicked thrusts, his pretty little noises.

You wondered how he got the leverage to fuck you like this, as though he were standing on solid ground while he held you. Then he hit so fucking deep, using the weight of your body to bounce you onto him, and you were too far gone to wonder anything at all.

All you could do was take him, take every delicious feeling he gave you. Still, as terrifying, and thrilling as fucking so high in the air should have been, you couldn’t fight against the dangerous hope that this feeling was real.

It was stupid. Naïve. You had tried again and again to shove it down, to just enjoy it while you could.

Buggy made you feel both safe and free. It couldn’t be real.

Right now is good.

“Gods, star… You feel perfect,” Buggy moaned through stuttering thrusts. “Come for me. Shine for me, baby. Just. Like. That.”

His name from your lips turned to screams while you came together, floating through space like stars in the sky. He couldn’t seem to stop his own pleasure, forcing his come even deeper inside you as though he could carve his own home within your twitching body.

“You don’t want me to stop, huh, dollface? Want me to—

No more dollface. No more Sylvad smiles.

“Hey, Star, what’s wrong,” your clown panicked when you were frozen by those hopeful thoughts. He cursed softly when he pulled himself out of you before racing down too fast. You shut your eyes against the spinning world, surprised by how many tears spilled when they closed.

Buggy caught every tear that fell, and you smiled at him when you felt him making strides across something thicker than air.

“You okay, baby?” Anxiety rippled off him when he laid you on something soft to look you over. “I’m sorry, did I—”

“I’m okay,” you choked out while you touched his hand that cradled your cheek. Relief moved across his features, but not enough. “Thank you, Captain. I’m just happy to be here with you.”

Your clown paused, and his eyes flashed with anger, with disbelief. You hated that look and all the disgusting people that must have trained that reaction into him.  

Then those crystal eyes melted, warmth seeming to fill him to the brim before he squeezed your cheeks.

“Well, I wasn’t about to leave such a flashy girl behind, but if you really feel like thanking your captain, I can think of a few—"

“Buggy!” Laughter spilled from you now, even as you struggled against his grip on your face. Your giggles slowed when he stared at your lips, brushing his thumb across your mouth. The taste of your own tears nearly stopped you, but your sweet, lovely clown kissed you before breathing his next words against your skin.  

“I like the smile better.”

The warm tears that fell now were joined by more laughter, and more dangerous hope, while he kissed your true smile again and again.  

~~~⏰🌲🌲🌲⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

The dress was pretty.

It felt light and soft against your skin. A comfortable sundress to enjoy a picnic under the stars. Your locket even fit the theme, but you still kept it tucked away when you weren’t fidgeting with it.

Yet, you preferred the other stupid costumes you’d been forced to wear.

“That red looks lovely on you, sweetie,” your mother gave a flawless smile. She leaned against the vanity to beam at you while her stylists finished your hair. While you tried not to bite them.

At least it wasn’t your mom dolling you up today.

Closing your eyes against your mother’s perfect smile, you fought to shove out the image of a broken doll in a red dress.

The trill of a transponder snail tore a gasp from you, and the voice that followed was worse.

“Delaine, be a dear and bring your daughter to my office. I need to check in on our little bride before the final date.”

“Of course, Cedrick,” your mother purred while she gestured for the servants to finish up. “We’ll be right there.”

Delaine Sylvad kept her smile while she led you to him. She gave you to your uncle once again, and she hummed when he brushed his lips against her cheek before she obeyed his order to leave you alone with him.

Your mother left you without a second glance. 

“My, my, Y/N, what a sight you are,” Uncle Cedrick praised. His eyes raked over you as though admiring a prize horse before gesturing toward the beautifully carved, but uncomfortable seat across the desk from his own cushioned chair. “Take a seat, niece. We need to have a little chat.”

Emptiness flooded your mind slowly, fog rolling in until the world felt dull.

Good.

“Enough of that,” he snapped his fingers in front of your face, cutting off your escape. “The Hunt is almost over, niece. I need to know who your favorite is.”

“It’s too early to tell,” you recited. His smug little smirk only proved that your instincts were right.

“Not to worry. I believe I can help with your decision,” your uncle laughed, so at ease.

Uncle Cedrick toyed with a decorative arrow that he’d displayed on his massive desk, and you couldn’t keep your eyes off it while he started tapping the side of it against his palm, gesturing with it while he spoke.

“It really is your choice, Y/N,” he taunted, twirling the arrow a bit before pointing it at you over the desk. Aiming straight for your heart. “Do you remember what your choices were before the Hunt? Did you figure out the pros and cons?”

Nothing matters.

“I can be well.” You only clenched your jaw a bit. “Or I can be unwell. And I want to be well, Uncle.”

“That is all I want, you know,” your uncle lied, his voice dipping low. It might have sounded gentle if you didn’t know what he was. “I only want what’s best for you, and for our family. That’s why I am excited to tell you about a little extra deal I made.”

He wiggled the tip of the arrow in front of your eyes, grinning as though it was all a game. You managed not to flinch, but your eyes closed against your will for a moment to fight against the dizziness the movement had caused. His smile had deepened after your show of weakness.

It is a game. His game.

“Aren’t you going to ask about the deal?”

“What’s your extra deal, Uncle,” you drowned in impotent rage.

He sat back with a laugh, bringing his pristine shoes up to rest on the corner of the desk. You were suddenly aware of the tension in your own body, your legs shaking slightly beneath that red fabric.

You shook more when he ordered the servants and guards from the room before pulling a small snail from his desk. He patted the creature, his fingers grazing the horned shell until its eyes flashed red.

“Well, I might be getting ahead of myself,” Uncle Cedrick tilted his head back and forth while he twirled the arrow in lazy circles. “Tomorrow your Hunters and I will discuss the arrangements. If they don’t agree, then they are out, but if all goes well…”

“Fuck.”

“Do pay attention, dear. You have a date with an Emperor to get to, so I’d hate if I had to repeat myself.”

An apology forced its way through your lips while you watched him sweep all that splintered wood onto the floor. Your uncle caught you slipping away again, so he’d broken that arrow over his desk, startling you back to whatever fresh torment he had in store for you.

“You have your choices,” he started, and his handsome features were finally starting to warp, a hint of the monster that only you could see. No one else saw what he was, or they were just too greedy or scared to admit it. “Now that you’re well, you will fulfill your duties as a Sylvad and marry a suitable match. You get to choose between an Emperor of the Sea, or a Prince of the Germa Kingdom. Such a spoiled, little bride.”

“Yes, Uncle.” Your voice was sweet, and you almost laughed at how skilled you’d become. It would never be enough. “Shouldn’t I be leaving for my date soon?”

“You’re quite right, dear niece,” your uncle agreed. He lowered his legs from the desk, brushing a few splinters from his slacks before smiling at you again.  “Vinsmoke Judge and his partner have some riveting plans for their new research institute. I was considering sending an offer to fund some of their ventures after the Hunt, but they proposed a deal that I just couldn’t refuse.”

You couldn’t count your breaths. There weren’t any while he left you waiting again.

“If you choose to marry the Emperor, then one of the Princes will marry Kathryn instead,” Uncle Cedrick announced, cheerful while you struggled to understand. “Such a fine match, and after all these years of waiting for her selfish sister to stop holding her back…”

“No.”

“Yes,” he mocked your desperate tone.

You were awake now, no drifting away, no escape. Just fear and denial flooding your veins.

“They’ll use her, Uncle. Those princes were born without feelings. They’re vicious!” The monster before you looked pleased while you fought to steady your voice. “You can’t give her to them. You won’t.”

“I can and I will,” Uncle Cedrick seethed, eyes wide with fury as he slammed his fist onto his pretty desk. Just for a moment, he let you see how he truly felt when something in the world dared to displease him.

His show of hatred stilled your breath, but that snarl was followed quickly by his charming, Sylvad smile.

I liked the snarl better.

You had to bite and chew the inside of your lips, sick laughter nearly ruining you again. Your uncle pressed his finger to your lips now, shutting you up.

“Please, mind the hysterics before your date,” he scolded, removing his hand from your skin to pet the horned snail again. Its slow eyes drooped, that red fading out while he studied your face.

Looking for signs of weakness.

His fingers drummed against the gleaming wood of his desk; your eyes caught on the movement. He kept that abhorrent rhythm going until you wanted to claw at him. Finally, he traced those fingers down the side of his desk until he winked in time with a sound like a snap, like something clicking into place. The painting on the wall beside you moved, the little cedar trees opening a window to another room.

An enclosure.

Uncle Cedrick hummed a cheerful tune while he leaned through the window to pet the massive projector snail. Always so many fucking snails. He guided it to aim toward the opposite wall until its eyes cast something you knew you didn’t want to see.

The selfish urge not to look was shattered when you heard her.

“Let me see my sister,” Kat demanded, the words icy with rage. She gritted her teeth, flinching away from the hand that dared to reach for her face.

Your sister wasn’t restrained. She didn’t look hurt.

Kat was sitting between two monsters on a pretty, green couch.

“Don’t worry so much, princess,” Niji purred, thankfully pulling away from her.

“Yeah, the last date is starting soon,” Ichiji soothed, unable to hold in a satisfied laugh. “We can watch your sister all night.”

They weren’t touching her right now, but you were already running toward the door when he cut the feed.

“That’s enough,” your uncle sighed while you struggled with every door out of the massive office. He’d locked you in a cage with him. “You know very well that I am not bluffing. Now, do you understand your choices, or do we need to— “

“You can’t hurt her,” you declared, willing yourself to wake up from this nightmare.

No. No. Not real. Not her.

He just smiled, gently stroking the horned snail until its red eyes glared at you.

“They’re gonna breed her! Torture her! She could die!” There was no change in that charming face. “Please don’t let them hurt her, Uncle. Please, she’s your daughter!”

Words that you’d never spoken hung in the air, and your ears rang with aching silence as though your body had tried to pull them back into you.

If only that ringing silence could have stayed to spare you from his sadistic laughter. He was still cracking up while he relaxed back into his seat, gesturing for you to join him.

“My little smarty. Did you think that was a secret,” Uncle Cedrick mocked while he caught his breath. He dabbed the moisture from his eyes as you slumped into that uncomfortable seat across from him. “I must admit, your mother and I were sloppy at best when it came to hiding our transgressions. Only a fool like my brother could have missed something so glaringly obvious.”

Uncle would have dragged you back anyway, but you fought to stay present. Only your nails on your thighs through that thin, red fabric kept you here.

she needs me

“I’m disappointed in you though, Y/N. I thought you were smart enough to keep your mouth shut.”

“but...”

“But what,” he scoffed as he leaned over the desk to pinch your cheek. You were too lost to even flinch.

“you won’t hurt her you won’t let them—”

There was no fighting it. Your body was starting to carry the inevitable future for you, although your mind was still small. Parts of you had run away, but he didn’t bother to chase them down.

“My daughter has the opportunity to elevate the Sylvad line.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but you winced at the force of it. He leaned back, his pretty shoes on the desk again, but you couldn’t let your eyes wander there. If you looked away from his gratified gaze you would disappear.

You had to stay.

“Finally, I can bring our family the respect, the honor we deserve.”

Uncle Cedrick’s mask fell just enough to show that monstrous hunger. That greed. What do you get for the man that has everything? What more could he possibly be hungry for?

It felt like it had always been you. Your pain, your humiliation, your supplication.

But your suffering was just the bonus prize.

“Arbo never cared about leaving a mark on the world,” your uncle spat now, his revulsion growing with every word. “No ambition. No pride. He rejected every opportunity to lift our family name above the merchant class. No, my idiot brother just wanted to spoil his selfish, little numbers girl.”

“stop”

He would never stop. He kept going, even as your body started rocking back and forth, breaths going heavy and wrong.

“Your daddy was always weak-willed. Pathetic.” Uncle laughed at the tiny sob that escaped your lips, even while you chewed on your flesh to keep them shut. “Arbo’s obsession with you held us all back, Y/N. It even got him killed. That sentimental fool couldn’t even wait a fucking week to fetch his ungrateful brat a toy boat—"

“please”

Broken doll.

Broken sobs tore through you now, and you curled in on yourself. Breathing hurt, you couldn’t see, couldn’t hear over the horrible, broken noises.

nothing now nothing now nothing—

“Stop crying.”

Dolls should be quiet and still, so that’s what you were. Just a doll when he knelt beside you. Not real when he touched your face, sneering at the pathetic tears on your skin.

Uncle Cedrick held his broken doll by the chin, but his words couldn’t hurt something that wasn’t real.

not real

can’t feel

“The choice is yours, dear niece,” came a voice that meant nothing. “Marry a Vinsmoke, or your sister will take your place. If you don’t want the pirate then you know what your options are, but Kathryn will wed one of those princes if you don’t.”

One more burning tear stained your cheek while his fingers pressed just a bit more into your skin, still careful not to tarnish his little doll. Your uncle never needed to use his hands to hurt you. He’d broken you just fine with his words.

Now he had trapped you into this reality, this world that he owned, because you couldn’t let yourself slip into nothingness. You couldn’t be that selfish again.

“I’ll marry Yonji,” you spoke with a voice like your mother’s, “but only if they let Kat go. They can’t touch her.”

Uncle Cedrick patted you on the head when he stood, and you counted your breaths while he picked up his transponder snail from its decorative table. He sat in his comfortable chair, placing the snail he’d dressed to match his own image beside the horned snail that was beginning to slump while its eyes still flashed red.

“Kat will be staying with her future brothers in law until your vows have been sealed,” he declared, the threat sending fresh terror to rip through your heart.

He stroked the horned snail again to let it rest. His fleeting mercy was given only to the toys that bent to his will.

“Don’t fret though, niece. I won’t let my daughter become anyone’s mistress, not even a prince. She’ll never be a cheap whore like your mother. Speaking of,” your uncle trailed off before making a call, your mother’s, ‘hello, Cedrick,’ floating from the snail’s sticky lips. “Delaine, dear, please come tend to your daughter. She could use some freshening up before the big night, and we can’t have her running late.”

You stayed here. Distant, but not empty. Suffocating with a gentle smile while your mother dolled you up.

“Don’t forget the rules of the Hunt, dear niece,” Uncle Cedrick reminded you as he guided you to the courtyard. “Our guests are here to have fun, so be sure to show the Emperor a good time. Can you do that, smarty.”

“Yes, Uncle.”

~~~🌲~~~

There were no stars out yet, but you stared into the golden sky all the same. Your pretty dress and the picnic blanket beneath you did nothing to keep the gentle breeze from sending shivers over your skin.

The theme of this date was crueler than your uncle could have known, but it was your own fault for choosing it from the list. Another opportunity to torture yourself, and now you wallowed in it.

Stargazing.

Waves and waves of grief poured through you while that darkening sky revealed each star like a mirage. Hope had done nothing but torment you, yet you couldn’t wish it away.

You had felt true love before meeting your fate. If your sister was safe, then everything was worth it.

Bargaining with the stars above while distant eyes enjoyed the show was a balancing act. It took all your strength to keep your pitiful cries inside. No matter how many times you tried to push it down, your mind went back. Back to that strange, little island you’d almost called home.

The steadiness you held impressed even you. It almost pushed you into laughter, until guilt finally won out over grief.

Buggy had given you so much. All you’d given him were lies and betrayal. You had abandoned him just like all the rest, and now you couldn’t even die for him. You couldn’t kill the monster that hurt him.

You couldn’t stop your disgusting desire to betray him again.

Pretty, shining stars were dancing above you now, yet you kept your relaxed position, not even digging your nails into your palms. Those stars dug into you instead. They pierced through your sick heart while you tried to soothe your own guilt, and you clung to that beautiful locket while you gave yourself permission to hate yourself even more.

Pretend. That was all. Just one more night to pretend.

One more night to forget the world, even if it meant letting that traitor use you again, for no other reason than to numb your own pain.

Selfish. I never deserved you, Buggy. I wish I could kill him for you, but I… I wish—

A shooting star cleared your mind for one, shining moment.

Why is it so dark?

“Hey there, little bunny. Sorry about the wait,” said a domineering pirate that knocked over the basket of food when he walked across the picnic blanket.

The leeches were loving the chaos, and the growing chill in the air made you aware of how long you must have been lying there. That Emperor of the Sea was late, and he’d left you for the vultures to pick at, squawking with pleasure while you’d been fighting not to cry.

He was still late.

“The chief didn’t feel like stargazing, so we set up his tent for your date instead. Hope you don’t mind.”

That tall gruff man offered his hand, and you were too foggy to resist. A few strands of his long gray hair fell over his eyes while he got you to your feet, but he only shook them aside. He kept his warm hands on you, smirking when he caught your eyes widening at the impressive flex of muscles across his arms and chest.

“The name’s Benn,” he shared with too much heat in his voice. That name spiked your heart rate, even more now as he lifted your chin to meet his gaze, pulling you against him.

Leeches were louder, but there were more voices close by that you couldn’t make sense of yet.

“Don’t be scared,” Benn scolded when you tried to step away. “The crew’s only here to make sure your date doesn’t get interrupted.”

“Yeah, the Captain’s got big plans for you,” shouted a deep voice from behind you. It was too close, and more taunting hollers and whistles followed.

Somehow, humiliation broke through your guilt and grief, and you gave another useless attempt to get out of this man’s reach.

“What do you mean,” you growled, too much rage in your voice.

“That’s a question for Shanks, bunny girl. I’m just the delivery man,” Benn shrugged, his eyes still heavy on your skin. Then the overwhelming pirate threw you over his shoulder and ran, to riotous applause and laughter. The Red Hair Pirates flanked you, teasing and taunting along the way.

Benn moved so fast that you almost missed it while you struggled in his arms. He’d placed one of those muscular hands on your ass, smoothing down the thin, red fabric of the sundress while he charged on. The image of his groping touch was blown up across the screens for all the guests to revel in. They gorged on your humiliation, still cheering and jeering so loudly you could hear them through the forest he’d carried you into.

Maybe I can kill him tonight.

That vengeful thought was doused quickly by the memory of your waiting sister, so you had to swallow it down. Remember your place.

This world belonged to greedy, monstrous men like your uncle, and like this Emperor that had ordered for you to be delivered to him like a meal. The Hunter and the prey whose blood would stain his hands while he feasted on its flesh.

Might as well close your eyes and try to enjoy it. You knew what this hunter could do, and the threat of danger reminded you of how sick you were.

Breaking out of the tree line again, you recognized this rolling set of hills, even though you could only see behind your captor while you bounced over his shoulder.

So many scrapes, bruises, and grass stains had followed you and your sister home from the spot you’d named, “Upside Down Hill.” The two of you would roll down the slope again and again into the basin-like stretch of grass until it was filled with laughter and squeals. It was surrounded by hills, just more piles of dirt, but that dip in the world had always felt a bit special. Magical.

That had to be where you were headed when Benn’s steps tilted down, as though you were descending into the earth itself.

You weren’t.

You were carried like a sack of potatoes through the thick flaps of a tent, the scent of the traitor filling that warm space.

“Package for you, chief,” Benn grunted as he tossed you onto a bed in the center of the large, captain’s tent. If you weren’t too busy catching your breath and trying not to flash him while you sat up, you would have bitten the fingers he ruffled through your hair. “Ooh, look at that fire. You didn’t tell me you caught a bratty, little bunny.”

“Out,” Shanks ordered, and the power behind that single, quiet demand made you freeze like prey, yet again. Your anger meant nothing against such a beast. “Make sure no one’s within earshot. Bunny and I need some privacy tonight.”

“Aye, chief,” Benn submitted as he turned to leave, his job complete. That older, powerful pirate nodded in deference toward the hunter that held your gaze.

Shanks’ eyes weren’t soft. He stared at your heaving chest while he lounged on a pretty, red chair; your body was still frozen except for the desperate breaths that pounded through you. Every instinct told you to run.

Run away.

There was no point in running anymore. Just let the beast devour you one more time. Just stop thinking, just feel something before you married a fate worse than death.

He kept you waiting in silence long enough that you broke loose, aching to feel anything but this. You crawled across the bed toward him, ready to beg. Shanks went to his knees, and you nearly wept with need, but he avoided your greedy hands to pull a small box from under the bed.

“You kept me waiting out in the cold quite a while, Emperor,” you purred, pushing that red fabric higher up your thighs while your fingers traced along the skin. His eyes were frightening now, but you didn’t care. Nothing mattered. “I thought you were going to keep me warm.”

Shanks clenched his jaw as he looked down at the box, setting its contents onto the red chair while he slumped onto the worn rug beside it.

Confusion and terror filled you in equal measure while the traitor patted the little, horned snail.

A jamming snail.

What more was this monster planning to do to you that he’d need this much privacy? Surely, he’d save any real punishments for after he owned you. The presence of his crew in the surrounding hills made your mouth dry, but the memory of his manic eyes while he��d played with you didn’t fit with whatever was on his face now.

“Shanks,” you muttered helplessly while the snail’s eyes turned red.

The Hunter crawled to you, sitting on the floor at your feet while he took your hand in his.

“Stop.” The plea was useless when it left your lips. You didn’t know where it came from, only that those brown eyes looked soft again. Too soft.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” the leech lied too fucking well. “I’m sorry for everything. Please, believe me. I came here to bring you back to Buggy. He’s waiting for his star.”

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

“Fuck you!”

“Bunny, I…” Shanks was pathetic again, useless against this woman’s rage. Y/N had ripped her hand from his grasp to crawl off the bed until it was between them while she paced. She kept glancing at him and forcing her eyes away, as though the sight of him made her sick.

Maybe it did.

“Really,” she spat, near manic while her hands clawed into the air as she spoke. “Winning isn’t enough for ‘The Great Red Haired Shanks?’ You have to fucking torture me too?”

“It’s the truth, bunny—Y/N,” Shanks nearly whimpered as he crawled around the bed, careful not to spook her as he drew closer. He had to keep crawling while she tried to keep the bed between them, disgust in every frantic movement. “I promise, if you marry me, I’ll take you home to Buggy. Home to the Cross Guild. I’ll do anything, please, believe me!”

That wasn’t… I didn’t.

There was no way that his last, desperate words had been a command. He could never do that to an innocent. Never to someone he cared about, someone so sweet.

The Emperor of the Sea was choking now, the air in that little tent burning into an anger so vicious that he winced, almost shielding his face from the blast of it.

How can she carry all this inside her, he wondered, cowering yet again.

“Believe you,” Y/N mocked while waves of cruelty suffocated him. “Even if I believed you, I know what you are.”

She’d seen through him from the start.

“You think I’d think better of you for using me to get to Buggy,” Y/N challenged, gritting her teeth while she leaned over his slumped form. “I think I’d prefer it if you used me for berry, or to destroy a Jewel Tree for your magic fucking boat. Knowing you, you’ll try to do it all, won’t you? The Emperor wants EVERYTHING!”

Buggy’s star was shining with white, hot rage, stunning the greedy Emperor at her feet. She was so good at hiding, so very good at pretending. Yet, Shanks was awestruck at the sheer weight of hatred she could hide inside that precious body.

“Out,” Shanks ordered again, feeling his first mate’s concern before the man stepped too far into this storm of murderous wrath.

“Chief,” Benn checked in through the flap of the tent. Y/N’s eyes went wide with fear and fury at the sound of his voice before turning that malicious gaze back onto the trash at her feet.

“Get out,” Shanks commanded, the flavor of domination too familiar. Too easy.

He held his breath to brace for her fear, but Y/N just slumped onto the bed, her body loose while her head lolled to the side to meet his gaze. The tent was still thick with her emotions, but they seemed to slow. Less heat, but a feeling of sickness grew, nausea pouring through him.

The sight of exhausted tears in her eyes made him unable to tell which one of them those feelings belonged to.

“Why don’t you get out, Shanks? I know you don’t want me. I’m just in the way.”

“Shh, bunny. Don’t say that, please.” He almost touched her hand again, catching himself before another wave crashed down.

A wave of madness, of cruel laughter that ripped his worthless heart to shreds. She writhed on the bed, mocking and taunting, spitting words like acid to sear his flesh until nothing but bones and burning truths remained.

“You want me to be quiet so you can pretend I’m not there? You can fetch Buggy his star and sail away together on your magic boat. I’ll just sit in the corner so you can have everything you fucking want.”

“No, please—”

Shanks couldn’t think. It felt as though he’d lived too long without shame, and now an ocean of it was being forced down his throat.

He couldn’t breathe while that wounded star sneered at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me, ‘no.’ I watched you. You took him from me, even when we were—I know I had no right to feel that way after everything but…” Y/N pulled him close, dragging him by the collar of his cloak while her voice cracked with pain. So sharp and jagged, Shanks could feel it in his own body, deeper than all the rest.

He’d caused so much pain.

“You made Buggy forget about me,” she sobbed, anger still present in the air like a weapon within reach. “You pretended I didn’t exist, but I forgave you. I told you to fucking take him, Shanks! You promised me!”

“Y/N—hey? Bunny,” Shanks panicked. The air around them had gone calm, everything soft and heavy when the woman before him went limp. He reached for her pulse, dreading that it would be as still as the air she’d been dominating a moment before.

Maybe she passed out? She couldn’t hide all that energy so quickly, couldn’t—

His fingers found that miraculous pulse on her neck, drumming slower and slower, until his own spiked at the touch of her hand on his. Y/N sat up straight as she held onto him. She stayed so calm while she begged.

“I can’t go with you, Shanks. I told you already, remember?” She made him dizzy, trying to remember something vital, but he couldn’t look away from her. “You promised that you would take Buggy and make him happy, but you lied! You promised me that you’d love him with everything in you.”

Buggy.

Shanks shook himself, but it was too late to save those words. Words he’d always meant to say to his oldest friend but never found the right time.

I don’t deserve it anyway.

He pulled back enough that she was pulled forward slightly, refusing to free his cloak from her shaking hands. Her eyes were wide and unblinking as though she was trying to keep her tears at bay, but their failures had already stained her cheeks.

“You promised. So, leave,” Y/N demanded. “I want to stay. Please, make him happy.”

“Bunny,” he gasped while he reached for his last chance, fumbling with it as though he wasn’t the ‘Great Red Haired Shanks.’ Finally pulling it free, he held the key between them and almost huffed a laugh at the adorable look of confusion on her face.

This whirlwind of a woman had overwhelmed him so thoroughly that he’d nearly forgotten the little key in his pocket. This key that he might have worn down into nothing if he held onto it another night, the tiny bit of metal like a worry stone to soothe his wretched soul.

Y/N was still staring at it, brows furrowed until he cleared his throat.

“That’s a pretty necklace you’ve got there, bunny,” Shanks breathed, a little freer now that Buggy’s locket had spilled from that red dress. He was feeling too much hope, but he was too damn selfish to fight it. “Whoever gave it to you must have good taste.”

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~

Somehow, no matter what corner of the world they’d passed out in, the air always tasted sweet when he woke with Buggy in his arms. Shanks had never been a morning person, yet his body seemed to crave that feeling as much as his heart did.

His body seemed to grieve the loss of it, a split second of fear before he melted into the pleasure of feeling his lover beside him.

“Mornin,’ Bugs,” he teased, trailing his breath along Buggy’s shoulder while his little morning whines got louder.

“Shanks…”

His eyes rolled back at that perfect sound. He needed to make it louder, needed to hear it again and again. Shanks held himself back, though he was nearly drunk on Buggy’s sleepy moans.

He had to savor this.

Buggy wasn’t ready to come back yet, but the future Shanks held in his mind made every goodbye all the sweeter. He didn’t want to dwell on the absence when he could look forward to every chance encounter. Especially when each time they parted brought them closer to that lovely future.

He didn’t see any other future ahead, except for the days he drank his doubts away.

Buggy would join him in the end.

“Of course you will,” Shanks almost commanded as he whispered along Buggy’s ear.

“I will—what? Ah, shit,” Buggy squirmed away when he caught eyes with his lover, though he didn’t squirm very far. “You’re still here? You’d better pitch in for this room since you—Fuck. Idiot…”

“That’s no way to greet a guest,” the red-haired pirate teased, his hand curled around Buggy’s body until he found his clown waiting and ready. Until Buggy started moaning again and the rest of the world, the rest of time, disappeared.

“You’re more of a PEST than a guest,” the clown complained before Shanks gripped his balls, tugging slightly until Buggy relaxed against him. “Asshole.”

“Is that an invitation,” Shanks chuckled. He left kisses now while he pressed his cock against the squirming, grumbling clown. “Missed me, didn’t you, Bugs?”

“Shut up and fuck me already,” Buggy ordered, though his voice was breathy while he fetched the lube with a floating hand. Now he was squirming so well, lifting his thigh to let Shanks in. The red-haired lover played and praised, fingers reaching and stretching before he claimed his clown.

Perfect.

“Knew ya missed me, baby,” Shanks growled, triumph coursing through his veins when his body found Buggy’s again. Still lying on their sides, his hand reached around to grasp that swollen length while his own, brutal cock made all those pretty whines return. “You’re so good for me, Bugs.”

“Fuck, please,” Buggy whined when Shanks stopped stroking him. He gave out the cutest, little yelp when Shanks nipped at his neck, still pounding into him when he replied.

“Please what, baby? Missing my touch already?”

Buggy turned to look at him over his shoulder, those beautiful eyes so desperate while he frowned.

Shanks snatched that blue hair, and Buggy disconnected his head from his neck to turn into that hungry kiss. He was rewarded with that greedy hand back on his leaking dick, but Shanks bit the clown’s lip to keep him from ending that delicious kiss.

The red-haired pirate drank in those precious noises now. They kept going while Buggy twitched and came in his hand. Such perfect noises while Shanks filled him up, so fucking high while he shoved himself deeper and deeper. Only the urgent need to breathe could have broken that kiss.

His clown stayed for a bit. Shanks ached to keep him now, but he took what he could get. Buggy stayed in his arms long enough to catch his breath before he was bickering again.

Shanks smiled at Buggy’s frown, even while he floated away.

It wouldn’t be the last time.

~~~⏰🔴🔴🔴⏰~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

A key.

A missing key.

The onslaught of emotions you’d just drowned in seemed like nothing compared to the sickening mix of horror and hope that little key had sparked.

“No.”

Shanks looked pained at your cowardly word, but he didn’t reply, and he didn’t move.

The key was just there, and you wished you didn’t have to know.

A laugh, twisted and terrible, left your lips when you reached for it; your shaky hand was smeared with makeup and tears, and the thought of your pathetic cries was too much.

This was too much.

“I can help—”

“DON’T TOUCH ME,” you screamed, batting that greedy hand away while yours fumbled with that warm lump of metal. That chain of guilt and brightness slipped easily from your neck, yet the loss of its weight was heavy, pulling you deeper into the quiet earth beneath you.

It’s just a picture. I’ll get to see his face one last time. That’s good.

You hadn’t looked at it in a while, and the pressure of more stupid tears burned your throat as you traced your fingers over the pretty pictures. That ship and its shining star. That six and its spade. That keyhole and it's no longer missing key.

The locket fell with its key, just a lump of metal on the bed while you held onto the true source of that warmth. You cradled an ear in your hands and somehow the raging storm of emotions within you went still.

It wasn’t the sick stillness of escape. This stillness was quiet and warm. Soft and secret.

It made you forget the world.

It was just you, and Buggy, and his ear that had gone pink like it always did when he got flustered, when you praised him, and kissed him.

For just a moment, you were free. The vision was so clear that you laughed with gratitude. The most precious daydream played out in that one glorious moment, and it made everything alright.

Everything had been worth it.

“Thank you for saving me, Buggy,” you breathed over his skin. “But I need you to stop. I need you to let me go.”

“Bunny, wait,” cried the red-haired hunter when you placed that lovely ear in his hand. “Please, tell me what you need. I’ll do anything.”

There was no mirror in the tent that you could see, so you did what you could to clean the mess of makeup and tears from your face. Shanks followed you while you searched, while you stretched your body that felt so perfectly light without that chain.

Everything was fine now.

There was just one last thing…

 “Please, love him,” you smiled up at the Emperor while you cradled his cheek. “You owe me, Shanks.”

Bells. Distant, but drifting through the hills. Soon you would leave this magical tent, this dip in the world.

Better to end it now before the pain hit again.

“Let me go, Shanks,” you sighed, still giving a true smile when he blocked your path to the exit. “I want to—”

“I’ll kill him for you,” the monster vowed, those soft eyes gone hard as steel. His voice clawed through your stillness, until fear filled your veins. It started slow like poison, drifting up from the floor until you were nearly paralyzed beneath his looming form. “Let me end it right now, bunny. All these leeches deserve it, don’t they? Cedrick deserves—”

“Don’t you dare hurt him!”

Too much fear and rage slammed through you, so you couldn’t even laugh at the dumbfounded look on his face.

The bells were closer.

“Same goes for you, Buggy,” you let out a hiss, regretting that your last words couldn’t be sweet. “Tell Crocodile and Mihawk, too. If any of you hurt my family in any way, I will never forgive you, or myself. I will hate you all with everything in me.”

“But…” Shanks tried, but his mouth hung slack, his shoulders slumped while he still stood in your way.

“No buts, Emperor,” you mocked. Your precious moment was gone now, replaced by anger and disgust in the only weapon you had. You were disgusting, but it would all be worth it. “If you hurt any member of my family, I will kill myself. You’d have to keep me in a fucking cage, but I’d still find a way. Now, let me go.”

The Hunter didn’t move, but he didn’t stop you from going around him.

The night air was cool and sweet, but the fluffy robe wrapped around you like burning chains. You closed your eyes until you were shut away, not wanting to gaze at the sky again.

You’d seen just a piece of your true love tonight, and no other shining stars could compare.

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

She was gone.

Red Haired Shanks stared into the space she’d left for what felt like decades, frozen in shame and disbelief, until glinting red caught his eyes.

“Wait, Bugs! I…”

The jamming snail’s glowing eyes drooped, slowing until the creature slumped within its horned shell. It looked nearly as sick as the failed hunter felt.

Shanks collapsed onto the bed, resisting the twisted urge to kiss Buggy’s ear, to take comfort, to take and take like he always did.

He’d failed them all. He couldn’t do anything.

And now he’d wasted his chance to apologize, not willing to risk the slim chance that he could still do any fucking thing to help.

He returned Buggy’s ear to that locket. It was a new, lovely worry stone for him to use.

I’m no hero. Just an asshole.

Sick laughter surprised that Emperor of the Sea when it spilled from his lips, the memory so bittersweet as it flooded his mind.

Y/N’s first accusation.

It hadn’t been that cursed island; it was that sweet, sick girl. She had held up this mirror, and Shanks could only thank her, pitiful and weak while he cowered beneath his own reflection.

“Too much fun,” Benn asked, that deep voice too soft while he leaned over the bed to look him over.

Every bit of his life felt like a lie.

“Nothing another bottle won’t fix, old man.”

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

~~~🌲🌲🌲~~~

Nothing was real. Waking, breathing, moving, all felt wrong. It was supposed to be over already, yet you still existed in this unfamiliar body.

You still had to function for a few more days and Kat wasn’t there to remind you to eat.

Your mother did the bare minimum, beaming at Shanks while she tasted all the dishes on the breakfast spread to encourage you to act like a normal, pretty doll.

How could you eat when the Emperor of the Sea kept his eyes on you?

The Hunter had almost been late, and he almost smelled like wine, but his voice was soft and villainous, and his gaze was a cruel torture. Temptation and punishment for your weak, selfish wants.

Yet, nothing could have weakened you more than the knowledge that Buggy was listening.

Shanks would keep him close, and any word you spoke would reach him.

How could you eat when you were being flayed alive?

“You must have had quite the date,” Uncle Cedrick quashed what remained of your useless hope. “Seems you wore out the little bride already. Need some coffee, niece?”

There would be no escape, but Kat would be safe, and Buggy would be loved.

That’s good.

Everything else is fine.

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

Red Haired Shanks had woken early.

Stupid, fucking birds were chirping too fucking close, the sharp sounds piercing through his skull. None of the bottles he’d drunk had fixed a thing.

The pain of the bright, loud morning outside his tent hadn’t woken him; that warm lump of metal in his fist was enough. His clown was there, listening to his failures that piled higher and higher. He could have suffocated beneath the weight, as though this grassy basin was being filled with a mountain of dirt.

He could have laid there until the end, let the earth bury him away. The Emperor was nothing but a coward, relieved that he could drift into darkness on his own now. He didn’t need the pomp and circumstance, the admiration or the trust he’d been gifted by so many.

Visions of laughter and smiling faces poured through like poison.

Shanks did want all of that. He wanted the life he’d made, and the comfort and steadiness that only being a hero could grant.

Yet, it was never enough.

More than anything, Shanks wanted to be a hero for the people he loved.

I’ve been going about this all wrong.

Shanks pieced himself back together, struggling not to think out loud. He held that warm metal in his pocket to keep from speaking to the piece of his love that dwelled within it.

I came here to be a villain, the red-haired hunter reminded himself while he watched Y/N fading away behind a smile and an empty plate. Shanks worked the crowd during their vapid interview, still disgusted by his ability to charm, and bewildered by her ability to pretend.

Y/N seemed truly empty now. Broken.

It’s not over yet.

She had slipped from his grasp, all that energy inside her gone cold. He’d spent so long chasing her, yet that precious little bunny had never been his prey.

“Dear friends and Hunters,” his true prey beamed. Cedrick Sylvad had taken the stage again, controlling this insatiable crowd with ease. He seemed to glow when his game was played out, when his toys followed his every whim. “It’s been an honor to host you during this Hunt. Only two remain, and in two days’ time, one of these Hunters will claim her.”

Shanks followed his prey’s guiding motion to stand beside him, the green-haired prince flanking his other side.

Leeches. Vultures. Pigs.

The horde of vermin writhed and squealed with pleasure, as though Shanks couldn’t kill them in an instant for treating him like a toy, just there to amuse them.

“We will have a day of rest tomorrow, so our Hunters and their lovely doe can think on their choice,” Sylvad announced. He dared to put his hand on Shanks’ shoulder, so at ease while he enjoyed the attention. “I wonder which of you will be joining our family… Either way, this wedding will be one for the books!”

Shanks nearly ended the man on that stage when those owning fingers squeezed his shoulder, shaking for just a moment as though showing off his new toy.

He couldn’t kill him. Couldn’t.

But Shanks would hunt him all the same.

~~~🔴~~~

The next day was dark without that wounded star, her fading light still more beautiful than anything on this greedy island. No amount of wandering, or jokingly asking for his little bunny, could guide him to her.

Even her mountainous rage and despair were absent from the air, as though she’d faded away completely.

It would have been easy to find her. He could just take her. His power shook beneath his skin, tempting, calling, seducing. Like an addict, Shanks had to ward off every bargaining thought.

If he wanted to be a hero, he’d have to do this the hard way, which was harder with every passing hour that his prey kept him waiting. Everywhere he looked, his own stupid face was displayed beside that cocky prince. Decorations and invitations to a wedding that was more of a game than anything else flooded the space.

Shanks frowned at one of the banners again, zoning out on the foggy treetops and decorative arrows and leaves.

Antlers were the only hint that Y/N was involved in this wedding at all. They framed the title, ‘The Hunt Is Over,’ leaving the faces of the Hunters to float above the trees, arrows pointing down toward the tantalizing question that so many had already lost berry over.

‘Which Hunter Will Claim Her?’

~~~

~~~

It really was pretty. If Shanks didn’t want to rip out their throats, he might have praised whoever designed the annoying sign that he couldn’t stop staring at.

“Excuse me, Emperor Shanks?”

The pretty servant girl cleared her throat. Her eyes flew wide with fear when she met his stony gaze, until he remembered that he wasn’t there to slaughter them all. She blushed at his false smile, his charm enough to cover the violence humming within, at least for this pretty girl that led him deeper in deeper into the monster’s den.

“There's my favorite Emperor,” Cedrick welcomed Shanks into his gleaming office.

Every perfect item seemed in its perfect place, except for a wooden chair along the wall beside the desk. Y/N’s uncle motioned for Shanks to sit across from him in a cushioned chair that matched his own, but that wooden chair left a hint of disgust on the pirate's tongue that he had to choke down.

He tortures his food before he eats, doesn’t he?

Shanks had to focus now. He had to charm this beast. Yet, it was all he could do to soothe the beast within him when Sylvad ordered his guards and servants from the room.

He couldn’t kill him. Shanks couldn’t go against her wishes, but he knew he was right on this.

Cedrick Sylvad deserved to die.

“May I confess something rather embarrassing, Shanks,” he smirked, like a child that already ate all the sweets. It was all the pirate could do to keep pretending, so he nodded while he reached for the offered glass of whiskey to have something to cling to.

“Of course. You’re one of my most fashionable friends now, aren’t you?”

The beast laughed with pleasure while they tapped their glasses, hunger in his greedy eyes before he spilled his secrets.

“The truth is, I’m a bit of a fan,” Cedrick laughed at himself, and then at Shanks’ blank face. “I was enamored with tales of the Pirate King growing up. The thought of being so powerful that the world declared you a king… I couldn’t get enough of those stories. Quite a cliché fantasy for a second son, I know. Yet, here I am, sharing a drink with Roger’s apprentice.”

“To Roger.” Shanks raised his glass again, hoping that the old man couldn’t see him now.

“To the One Piece,” Cedrick urged, a manic glint in his eyes while they toasted again. “And to Hunters and Kings that claim what’s theirs.”

The man laughed while he opened a hidden window into a room beside the desk, so many glinting shells in that luxurious snail enclosure. The beast was having so much fun, almost giddy while he played with his toys.

The newest was a familiar, horned snail, but its red eyes stayed dormant for now, while he lined up a large projector snail to face the opposite wall.

“Shanks, I am about to share some delicate family secrets with you. Regardless of whether you accept the terms of this marriage contract or not, I hope that you will take them to your grave.”

The beast dropped his smile with this somber tone, but Shanks could still taste it. He was having fun.

“You have my word,” Shanks lied.

“I’m glad to hear it. I am going to show you something quite shocking, and quite dangerous. Please hold your questions until the recording is over, and the horned snail is active.”

He didn’t wait for a reply before dimming the lights for the show.

Shanks almost killed him then. His own Haki fought against him, and he had to conquer himself now, otherwise that greedy island would be nothing but dust.

That wounded star… It was a nightmare. Endless clips of that broken girl reaching her breaking point, sick laughter filling the space while Shanks fought not to reach for the locket.

Many of the scenes were in a hospital—an asylum, but the Emperor swallowed down more bile as other scenes followed Y/N through the world, as though everywhere she’d gone had been owned by this monster and his fucking snails.

Each clip was short, but they all showed him what Cedrick wanted him to see.

~~~

‘Don’t worry,’ the young girl cackled while she rubbed her hands over her face, smearing lipstick down her chin while her little sister cried at her side. ‘It’s just dolls! Just pretend. Just a brokendollbrokendoll—'

~

‘I’ll make you poor, and dead. Don’t forget, your daughter’s not well!’

The wounded star was older as she breathed her rage against her mother’s face. A hint of fear showed in her mother’s eyes before Y/N walked away, harsh laughter following her through the halls.

Her laughter.

~

‘Everyone here wants to help you, Y/N,’ floated an unnervingly soothing voice from off the screen while Y/N struggled with the restraints at her wrists. ‘We want you to get well.’

‘And I want you to fucking DIE! Haha HA!! That's right, you piece of shit, I’m going to fucking KILL YOU!!—‘

~

Y/N had no laughter or tears in the last clip. Just fury on her face while she lunged across a breakfast table toward her smirking uncle. Dishes shattered as she sent things flying, but she seemed to break more once the guards and servants pulled her back, soothing voices guiding that empty girl away.

~~~

“My apologies, Shanks. I know how shocking it must be to see such a sweet, young girl for the monster she truly is,” Cedrick sighed, the corner of his lips hinting at his delight. He swapped out his toys now, the visions of nightmares replaced by the jamming snail’s red eyes. “Please, allow me to explain.”

The Emperor of the Sea couldn’t speak, but the beast didn’t seem to mind. Cedrick filled their glasses again and enjoyed the sound of his own voice.

“My dear brother was quite sentimental, if you recall,” Cedrick began, almost including Shanks in the conversation. “He cared for my dear niece so much that it broke the poor girl’s mind when he passed. After all these years of treatment and support, I’m afraid that Y/N will always be sick. That last clip was just a few weeks ago, you see.”

The burn of whiskey on his tongue. His mind couldn’t focus on anything else.

“I’ve done everything I can to protect her, and the people around her,” Sylvad bragged, resting his feet on the edge of his desk. “Unfortunately, Arbo put us all in a difficult position with his will. That sick girl is his sole heir, and she’ll only become the heir when she marries. Even more dangerous than that, he declared that whoever my niece marries will own half of our family’s company once the vows are sealed.”

Shanks remembered to act surprised, but he still couldn’t speak. Cedrick nodded at his furrowed brows and continued on.

The beast knocked on the wood beside the jamming snail, drawing the Emperor’s eyes. Controlling even him.

“I’m sure you can understand why I’ve gone to such lengths to protect Y/N from her father’s blunders. The poor girl isn’t well. Putting her, let alone whatever villain that decides to take her for himself, in charge of her father’s legacy would be cruel. Shameful.”

“Of course,” Shanks managed to say something, although he wasn’t sure what.

The beast seemed pleased by the sound, his tone shifting while he tilted his head back and forth.

“I have had the great honor of guiding my family through this storm,” Sylvad dragged on. “I will do everything to protect the Sylvad family legacy, so I have allowed my sick niece as much freedom as possible, but it’s time to set things right. She’s unwell.”

He had to stop sinking. Shanks had to wake up.

Had to fix this.

“So, she needs a husband that can head the company? I didn’t think—”

“Y/N needs a husband that will sign their half of the company to me so that I can continue to run it without exposing how vulnerable and violent Arbo’s favorite daughter is.”

Finally. Finally, fucking getting somewhere.

Cedrick pulled a crisp sheet of paper from the drawer beside him, laying it out along with a wooden pen carved and etched with gold branches and leaves.

“This seems a bit rushed,” Shanks teased, trailing his fingers across the contract. “What if Y/N doesn’t choose me? What if I decide to take her and elope instead?”

“Such a pirate,” Sylvad chuckled, as though praising a favorite pet.  “As you’ve seen, my dear niece has been sick since she was a child. We have kept it hidden to protect her dignity and the family’s reputation, and although we’ve kept the full details of Arbo’s will hidden as well, it wouldn’t matter. Y/N can’t get married.”

He gave a deep laugh now, leaning his head back after Shanks’ confused expression.

Shanks was going to kill this man if he kept this going much longer.

“Due to a legal conflict of interest with the stipulations in Arbo’s will, Delaine wasn’t able to take on the role after he passed, so my sister-in-law came to me for help. As Y/N’s conservator, it has been my duty to keep her healthy, and to provide as much freedom as is safe for someone in her condition.”

The realization hit the Emperor like a punch to the gut, but he sipped his drink to keep from showing it.

He really does own her.

“So, don’t go getting greedy, friend,” Cedrick scolded, tapping the contract between them. “Even if you steal her away, I must give consent and sign the documents for her marriage to be binding. Worry not, I’m sure you’d rather be out on the seas than mired in paperwork. You’ll still gain plenty of wealth, land, resources, a butchered Adam tree… Hells, I can even call in favors for you if you need certain areas cleared on your path to the One Piece. The Sylvad family takes care of its own.”

Shanks looked it over, noting that all he said was true. All it asked of him was to transfer over his portion of the Sylvad company immediately upon marriage. If he married Y/N, her uncle would win.

He signed it. He was here to charm the beast.

“Wonderful,” Cedrick purred while he studied Shanks’ signature and added his own. “Now, regarding the question of Y/N’s choice… I’d like to offer you another deal, in case my dear niece chooses the prince. You will gain everything from this agreement, except you will be marrying a younger, healthier, less… traveled bride.”

Cedrick pulled a picture frame from the top drawer of his desk, smiling at it before he laid it between them like he had the contract.

Kat. Y/N’s little sister, beautiful, even without the matching family smile.

“I understand if you’d like to punish the brat that cost you the Jewel Tree Adam all those years ago,” Sylvad beamed over his steepled fingers when Shanks met his gaze, “but I assure you, Kathryn will make a much finer Queen.”

“Both of these deals favor me,” Shanks tried, lost in the riptide of this man’s little world. How could he charm the beast when the beast kept pulling him closer, offering more and more? “What is it that I’ll be bringing to the table? There’s no company to sign away for Kathryn, is there?”

“I’m a fan, remember?”

The pleasure in those words shifted the air in the room, and Shanks was too busy trying not to be sick to figure out why.

“Follow me, Shanks, I’ll prove it.”

He obeyed, following the man that owned too much across the large room to stand before one of the many paintings of cedar trees along the walls.

Sylvad was humming again when he pressed the side of the gilded frame. The painting swung out on a hinge to reveal a few smaller frames that held various wanted posters and newspaper clippings inside, but Cedrick drew his attention to the article in the center.

It was old, so many secrets protected behind glass and gold.

“That article doesn’t say much,” the beast sighed, letting Shanks read it, as though the pirate could read a thing right now. “But the author is a friend of mine, so I got to hear Morgans’ real take on the God Valley Incident. Rumors that even that old bird wouldn’t risk putting to paper, but if they’re true… Well, I’d be an even bigger fan.”

The Emperor could just leave. Run like a coward from the sick desire in his enemy’s eyes.    

But he had promised.

“What do you mean,” Red Haired Shanks asked. He hoped he could tear that question from the world, so he’d never have to say those fucking words again for the rest of his life.

Cedrick took in a breath, wetting his lips before gripping the Emperor’s shoulder again. He couldn’t know how close to death he was.

“Sylvad’s are good at keeping secrets, Shanks,” he promised before leaning close enough to breathe the secret along Shanks’ ear. “My nieces would be honored to carry the blood of Dragons.”

No. Run away.

Shanks couldn’t run. He’d promised to become a villain to save her. A monster.

Cedrick Sylvad dragged that greedy hand along his arm, not even flinching when the Emperor looked down his nose at him.

This trash thinks he can own everyone, doesn’t he?

“Do you agree to both offers, Shanks? Will one of my nieces be mother to a— “

“Of course, Cedrick,” the monster purred. “How could I resist?”

~~~🔴🔴🔴~~~

~~~~~~

Likes, comments, and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you!!

Author's Note: Wowzers, this one was a lot. I've had this chapter outlined since before the Hunt began, but finally getting to write it felt intense. I think I psyched myself out, lol. I hope you enjoyed it! Also, who's ready for the wedding?? I have some wedding plans drawn up already, but I had to stop myself from focusing too far ahead until I got to this point, so I don't have a chapter estimate yet. Knowing me, this might be a lengthy wedding, lol. It'll definitely be a wild one though 🥰

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Chapter 41

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[madridnoora]

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ Forbidden - Halloween

Seventh instalment of the forbidden au - lsu!joe x oc

Full AU masterlist here -> ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ Forbidden

Summary: Halloween, the biggest night of the year in the college calendar, hits LSU's campus in the form of a night of partying at the seven deadly fraternities.

⋆｡˚ word count: 14.0k

18+ Content. MDNI :). Mentions of drinking, drug use, smoking and sex. ⋆｡˚

Makeup scattered across the floor of the small dorm room. The four of them, Carson, Daisy, Cassie and Bella, were all cramped inside of it as they got ready for the social event of the year.

A playlist of pop princesses, and early 2000's classics sounded out through Carson's beat up speaker. Wine glasses filled with cheap spirits and fruit flavoured mixer sat beside each one of them as the pre-game was well underway. Detailed costumes carefully laid out on the beds in anticipation of being worn. They had spent the whole year waiting for this night to come back around, and here it was staring at them in the face.

Daisy brushed bronzer across her sculpted cheekbones, Cassie dusted glitter across her eyelids delicately, Bella created a black pointed wing from the corners of her eyes and Carson concealed his under eyes. They had been going at it for almost an hour, intense and intricate details of their halloween makeup mixed with juicy conversation. Who was planning on hooking up? Who would get the most drunk? Which fraternity would be throwing the best party? All questions which burned into the mind of every college student across the country at eight pm on Halloween night.

'You meeting up with Joe?' Carson asked as he glanced over the Daisy, looking away from his reflection in the hand held mirror for only a passing second.

'Nope' Daisy shook her head, taking a break from applying her smokey brown eye shadow.

'Why not?' Cassie sung out, a brush painted with peach blush swiping at the apples of her cheeks.

'It's never a planned thing' Daisy sighed, 'It just happens, maybe we will see him and something will happen, but maybe it won't' She tried to explain to them the concept of her and Joe. She tried to get it across that they didn't text each other to schedule plans, they would just text out of the blue and hook up then play the rest of the day by ear. Everything between them was built upon spontaneous fleeting emotion.

'Would you be upset? If it didn't happen, I mean' Cassie's words come out her pale pink lips hesitantly. She was reluctant to ask, not knowing if the response would be short-tempered and brisk.

'No, we're not a thing' Daisy chuckled with a subtle shake of her head.

'Ok' Cassie said in a cheery tone, her shoulders lifting and her head cocking to the the side in a cute manner.

Daisy sat in a silent confusion at the question that appeared seemingly from hollow shadows. Cassie asking a question she had never cared to ponder. Sure, seeing Joe with Abby was a strange sensation, one that tingled up her spine and danced across her tender skin -- goosebumps rippling across the surface. Upset wasn't the emotion she felt though. She couldn't describe the emotion she felt, it was a strange one. Not jealousy, not sorrow and not betrayal but something. Would she feel it again tonight? Probably.

Halloween was the one night of the year where anything could happen. One night stands, mortifying mistakes, blacked out behaviour and dancing with the devil -- sometimes in the literal sense, it was a pretty popular costume. Daisy didn't doubt for a second that Joe would be hunting tonight. That's what the boys called it, she had heard Ja'marr and Justin say it to each other countless times. She hated the term, it made women feel like they were nothing but meat to be slaughtered. Hearts to drain cold. Tonight, Joe may sink his teeth into fresh meat, and Daisy would sit on the side like chopped liver.

The feeling, the one she couldn't place, stirred in her stomach alongside the alcohol. A small gurgle.

This evening on greek row, party goers were either going to hunt or be hunted. An evening of primal sport. Daisy just had to decide what way she was playing. Should she sink her teeth into someone new, did she wait from someone to sink her teeth into her or did she chase a forbidden third option and bite the hanging fruit in the Garden of Eden?

A thoughtful sigh left her pouted lips as she went back to completing the final touches of her makeup. Everyone else in the narrow dorm room knew their plan for the evening.

Cassie would let the guys come to her. She wasn't on the hunt for a man of her own, not since her ex boyfriend had cheated on her. She would indulge in the thrilling entertainment, only if he looked handsome enough. She was picky like that, never settling for less than what she believed she deserved even if it would only last through a drunken night.

Bella was on the prowl. Her pointed claws would sink into the man or woman she picked out of the seven deadly fraternities they would be visiting this evening. A lustful desire burning within her, one she had to fulfil with playfully sexy encounters.

Carson would take the night slow, open to both hunting and being hunted. Although, he imagined the chances of him finding another homosexual man in the fraternities of Louisiana state university could be more difficult than in New York. However, never say never. His main priority was just being allowed entry into the fraternities and having a amusing night beside his girls. Everything else would just be an added bonus.

Daisy still toyed at what to do. Battling thoughts in her brain. An angel on one shoulder, while lucifer sat perched on her other.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Humble hip hop tunes thumped through the speakers of the fraternity as the boys sprawled across the stained brown couches. Liquor bottles being passed around as they took heavy swigs. A separate pre-game taking place across campus, yet the thoughts between them were eerily similar.

What would his own plan for the evening be?

Joe bobbed his head to the beat of the song as he thought about the options he had tonight. A roster of women strong in his mind. Blondes, brunettes, thick, thin and everything in between. All the women he could want only hours away from his grasp. A world full of scantily clad women in seductive costumes at his fingertips.

'I hooked up three girls in one night last year' The voice of one of his frat brothers sounded out into the room. A sleazy brag that Joe doubted was true. The guy was too ugly and too unimportant to have three women begging on their knees for him. Joe could have three women, if he wanted them, but he didn't.

As of the last two months, he was a one woman man -- well, only if you were only classing physical intimacy. He had been chatting with other women through direct messaging and cringey dating apps, and an odd kiss of another at the early parties before the routine between him and Daisy had settled into place. His options were still open, but Daisy was always the number one pick. The simplest one. The only girl he could guarantee wouldn't start spam calling him and asking him the dreaded 'what are we?' question.

A shot burned through his chest as he tossed his head back. A clenched jaw and eyes screwed shut as his body rejected the sour taste.

Daisy. Daisy. Daisy.

Always top of his current roster. The star player on his field. The star receiver to be specific and crude. That was no different tonight. He had spent the whole day wondering what her costume would be, how tight the top and how short the skirt. Contact between them always minimal when sex wasn't the focus of the conversation. He hadn't heard from her since she left his place two nights ago, but it wasn't like he had reached out either. Crossing paths tonight wasn't a guarantee, that would come down to the twisted will of the universe.

Halloween was set out differently to most places at Louisiana State.

Seven Deadly Fraternities lined the row.

Each house would throw their own rager, going to every length to make sure that their party would be the most memorable of the night. Everyone would come to frat row, but not everyone would be allowed entry into the houses. As disgusting as the tradition was, it was in fact that -- tradition. A group of full guys? You're not getting in unless you're boys with the fraternities members. A group of average looking women? You're not getting in either, not unless you're bringing alcohol or some other substance that could be inhaled or snorted. The ratio had to be perfect, more women than men. Priority going to the brotherhood. A primal and patriarchal festival, one that made the stomach of any moral person turn. Fraternity brothers and college football players were anything but moral people.

Joe had a hand in the organisation of his fraternities party, as did most upperclassman, but the responsibility of keeping the party running fell to the freshman and some sophomore. Upperclassman got to roam to other parties. Joe, Ja'marr and Justin got to take their hunting outdoors.

Daisy would get in every party that she wanted too. Joe knew that.

She was a known character across campus, so he had come to find out in subtle ways. Like when he overheard some freshman water boys at training whispering between each other, talking about how they had seen her on the Jumbotron at the homecoming game. Boyish talk about the things they wanted to do with her, and how they always looked for her pretty face around campus. Or more boldy was the incident with the ruby red haired hookup of Ja'marr. She knew her full name and what she looked like. Joe had asked Ja'marr how the girl knew her when he had a second alone with him.

'Most sophomore girls know miss texas' Ja'marr response had been short and mysterious. Almost like a riddle, like he knew things about Daisy that Joe didn't. Joe had tried to press him for more information but Ja'marr didn't give a word more. He liked watching Joe shift and squirm uncomfortably too much.

Another toss of the head followed by a scorching trickle down his toned chest brought him back to the room.

The night ahead was unplanned potential.

Halloween would be built upon spontaneous acts and fleeting yet forceful emotions.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Blinding back camera lights flashed brightly in the low lit dorm room. Carson and the girls were now all ready to head out the door and too the packed street of frat row. Only a few picture stood between them and the dark sultry night.

They had all gone as animals. A matching group, but still individual.

Cassie was a sweet white lamb. Bella was a seductive black cat. Carson was a mighty grey wolf.

Daisy was a cute brown bear cub. Fluffy fur ears sat on top of her bouncy chestnut hair, and matching wrist cuffs wrapped around her wrists as a subtle nod to paws. A pleated chocolate brown faux leather miniskirt on her waist and some platform dr.Martens on her feet. White socks with a innocent lace thrill poking out. The top was out there. More skin than she ever usually cared for showing.

'If you can't wear it on Halloween, you can't wear it anywhere' Bella had said as she persuaded her to make the more scandalous choice. Carson had drummed out cheers of passionate agreement, and it was hard to argue with a fashion student's opinion.

It was corset like, a rich brown leather material. The difference being the lace to cinch it closer were in the front rather than the back, and the size was pushing the limit of too small. Her usually modest breasts were now pushed together tightly and felt like they were hoisted so high that her chin may touch them. The lace leaving a gap between so most her toned stomach was bare. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she felt nervous. Never in her life had she worn something so tempting and provocative. Last halloween, she wasn't single and therefore had to suffer through dressing up in a boring full covering costumer. She couldn't tell if the garment made her feel confident or shy.

Only time would tell.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

Fraternity row buzzed with activity, the steady hum of chatter blended with the rhythmic clatter of footsteps and the intense booming of heavy bass filled music. People weaved through the crowds around them as they stared down at the street, both nerves and excitement swirling through there liquor lined stomachs.

Everyone had dressed for the night's occasion. Cliques of women in tight skirts, sultry costumes and high heels moved around arm in arm as they made sure to avoid tripping over the uneven and litter filled ground. Groups of boys stalked the paths with flushed cheeks and alcohol fuelled energy. The open air around was electric. Laughter, screams and cheers already echoing across campus.

Every house had made the effort with decoration, a spooky spectacle out in full force. Cobwebs clung to front porches, draped over white railings and spilling down from windows. Dancing orange lights set the tone of the houses. Carved pumpkins lined the doorsteps, some menacing faces while others had a softer and more feminine touch. Skeleton bones hung from large trees in the front yards, while white fairy lights spiralled over leafless branches. Fake gravestones in the front yard with stupid names etched into them. The whole row had come together in Halloween spirit, a blend of fun and wholesome fright perfectly combining to set the tone for the night ahead.

‘Which house first?’ Bella asked as she tried to gage the opinion of the group.

Everyone takes a different approach on Halloween night, some people start from the house furthest away and then work there way to the beginning. Others take a random order, going off vibe rather than organisation. Daisy knew one thing — she wanted Joe’s to be the last one.

‘That one’ A pointed index finger picked one of the seven deadly fraternities, and off the four of them went. Arms looped in each others. They would take the random approach tonight, and play off which house looked the most lively and vibrant.

Walking up to the fraternity, the four of them could tell the energy inside was buzzing. The front porch was a blur of people, the thumping bass of the music pulsed from within. Party goers spilled out onto the front lawn as did red solo cups. The sickly smell of beer floating around in the air. Groups smoked joints while others smoked cigarettes. The smell of both enough the lightly burn nostrils.

The four of them weaved there way to the front of the queue of people waiting to get in, Bella led the way. Groans from boys and girls in the line about cutting rang out but they didn't care. Most of them wouldn't get into the fraternity anyway.

The doorman was a smiling fraternity brother, dressed up as an actual security guard with some fake blood splashed down the side of his face. When he saw the the three girls his eyes sparkled.

'Yeah, you three in. Wolf guy has to stay outside' The cocky fraternity brother said as he chewed on some gum. The three girls looked between each other. They had been expecting this, the frat bros always wanted to keep other boys out of there places. They were like a weird cult, if you weren't apart of greek life or a woman you weren't getting in.

'Either he comes in or we don't' Daisy said, folding her arms over her torso allowing her boobs to somehow get pushed up even more. The doorman debated what to do in his mind, but his debate is cut short. Another fraternity brother, one more senior to him, comes out behind him. A bottle of corona firmly gripped in his hand.

'Let em' in' He instructs. His eyes looking over all three of the girls and then giving a friendly nod to Carson.

'Thank you, Malik' Cassie's sweet words sound out, and it's now understood that the pair are familiar with one another. The rest of the group don't question how, perhaps they were just friends from a class or maybe he was an old hookup.

Either way, they were into the first house of the night.

-౨⋆｡˚ House One ⋆｡˚ৎ -

Inside, the house was expectedly packed. The sweet smell of cheap cologne mixed with the slight tang of sweat. The music was louder too, a mix of classic chart toppers and old-school bangers. A full crowd dancing away in the living room. In the kitchen, people huddled around the counter, grabbing the spooky themed snacks or most importantly their drinks. This fraternity had pulled out all the stops to make the night a halloween themed one. Orange and black banners were hanging from every surface they possible could, cobwebs sprawled all over. They had even gone as far as too make sure all the alcohol was coloured red to make it look like blood. It was kind of cute to imagine the characteristically asshole boys coming together to do Halloween decorations.

Daisy and the group got their drinks first. This would be the house where most of the active drinking would take place. This was the house where they allowed themselves to be gluttonous -- filling their stomachs with cheap liquor and some light snacks as to prepare for the other six they would be visiting. They didn't plan on staying here long, just long enough to get themselves tipsy. Most other people seemed to have the same idea, by one am this house would have been ransacked and they doubted that many people would be inside it. Everyone would have moved on to somewhere else.

After around forty five minutes at house one, they felt overly satiated. They indulged heavily in the drinks laid out on the kitchen table, and partook is some sleazy dancing to loosen themselves up.

Then it was time to leave to house number two.

-౨⋆｡˚ House Two ⋆｡˚ৎ -

The second place was a madhouse. The music bared so loudly that it felt like the wall could collapse at any moment, the floor beneath shaking as the heavy bass reverberated through every room. The air was thick with the smell of vapes, weed and pungent alcohol. The overwhelming noise of bottles clinking, shouting and laughter created an atmosphere which was almost dizzying.

In the living room, people were packed in like sardines. The floor was sticky from spilt drinks and a constant buzz of voices sounded out as peoples bodies swayed to the heavy rap beats. Some were grinding while others jumped up and down with reckless abandon. A live DJ was in the centre of the room, propped up on some sort of platform. The chaos was contagious, and everyone was getting pulled into it -- even Joe.

The bass from the music vibrated through him as he stood at the edge of the crazy dance floor, but he kept his focus on the sorority girl in front of him. Her name was Evelyn. Joe had hooked up with her before, in fact he had hooked up with her three times. The dreaded number he never passed because it gave all girls except Daisy the impression that he wanted something serious with them. The impression that he they actually meant something to him. Evelyn was a nice girl, long honey blonde hair and sparkling brown eyes. She stood out in a sea of people, and that's what made her catch Joe's attention again tonight. She leaned into him slightly as she payed attention to every flirtatious word that slipped from his tongue effortlessly. Her soft laughter was a contrast to the thumping rhythm that surrounded them. Joe would lean in also as he tried to hear every sweet nothing she spoke, a crooked but arrogant grin across his flushed face.

She was dressed as a 'slutty' nurse. A tight white uniform which left little to the imagination, but Joe didn't have to imagine what he had already seen and touched three times. Fake blood dripped down her cleavage. Red lipstick decorated her kissable lips. Evelyn was a dangerous but enticing sight. One that was so deeply tempting, the only girl he had seen that had caught his eye. Evelyn had been the top of his roster up until they slept together for the last time, then she went to the bottom. All contact cut as Joe didn't want to risk the complications that could come with her. That had been a couple days before he slept with Daisy for the first time, the afternoon after she had sat down at the picnic bench with them. Seeing Evelyn now put her back at the top, as he was remembering just why he began sleeping with her in the first place.

Evelyn's soft hands rubbed on his bare bicep, a lazy flirting. The tension between them grew, playful and charged. They unknowingly inched closer to each other, and Joe knew the night could turn dark from here on out.

'I heard you're seeing someone' Evelyn pried at Joe for information.

'You heard wrong' Joe's quick to stop the rumour before it can spread more.

'So, if I mention Daisy Moore that means nothing to you' Her name almost stings Joe as he hears it fall from a past flames lips. Rule number two was so far gone, it was an open secret on campus at this point. That wasn't what Daisy wanted, Joe knew that, she didn't want to be only attached to him. Joe didn't really care if people knew he was hooking up with her or not, he did care if women on campus thought he was a taken man.

'It means nothing' Joe confirms to Evelyn, who nods her head with a curled lip. She was happy to know that tonight he was free man, one that she could sink her teeth into. Joe take a swig of his cheap beer. His stomach flipped at the words that left his mouth, a guilty feeling creeping up his spine. His moral compass ticking away inside his chest. He brushed it off and continued flirting with the familiar blonde in front of him.

The kitchen buzzed with laughter, and clinking glasses as a variety of costume covered people would weave there way in and out like flowing water. A red solo cup filled with vodka and lemonade was clung tightly between her fingers as she leaned against the counter. Her focus wasn't on anyone but him. Daisy's eyes focussed on Joe casually leaning into the blonde at the corner of the dance floor, with a grin she knew all too well. It was the grin Joe pulled when he was trying to charm someone. Her stomach twisted in a way she didn't acknowledge. An emotion she repressed because she knew she shouldn't feel it.

The honey blonde woman was laughing, tossing her long hair over her shoulder as she flirted back. Daisy could tell she loved the attention the quarterback was giving her. She watched them for a few moments longer -- more heavy gulp of her strong liquor funelling down her chest with a light burn. There was something about the way Joe tilted his head, the playful glint in his eyes -- it was all too familiar. She could tell there was a chemistry between them, the way they both instinctively leaned in, the way her finger brushed lightly and teasingly against his bare biceps.

Daisy couldn't help but scoff at his costume. A prisoner. The orange jumpsuit tied at his waist, a bloody wife beater on his top half. A casual backwards hat on his head, like he couldn't put the effort in to do he hair. Oh so Mr. Nonchalant. Daisy took another slow sip from her cup.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she watched Joe laugh -- too loud, too easily. Something twisted at her stomach, something like envy. He was leaning in too close now, too lost in the attention of another to notice Daisy's presence. Daisy hadn't been expecting to run into him so soon, but when Justin called out there names as they walked into the house, she knew Joe would be slithering around the room somewhere.

Daisy downed the last of her drink, pushing herself of the counter.

'You know that girl?' Daisy couldn't resist asking Justin about the blonde capturing all of Joe's attention.

'Uh, Evelyn something. Joe and her hooked up a few times before your whole thing' Justin spilled the information hesitantly. He didn't know how Daisy was going to react and he didn't want a mess on his hands.

'Nice' Daisy quipped through tight lips. The whole thing felt anything but nice. Her eyes glossed with alcohol fuelled emotion. She wanted attention, attention from someone. She wanted to feel the way Evelyn was feeling.

She topped up her drink and headed off into the backyard. An almost separate party was taking place out there and she wanted to be involved.

Cassie, Bella and Carson noticed, quickly following her outside. Justin and Ja'marr decided they would as well. No women inside were appealing to their appetites, so they didn't have much to lose.

The backyard of the frat hours was a world of it's own beneath the stars. The flickering glow of string lights above mixed with the bright flashes of purple, green and orange LED lights. The late October night was still warm, but only from the volume of people who scattered the yard. Fog machines pumped out a creepy low mist that swirled across the grass. The scene was almost otherworldly. A hired DJ was playing house and techno tunes in a skeleton costume. People in all sorts of costumes bounced up and down.

Joe and Evelyn had moved close the door of the backyard, standing beside each other in the kitchen. They had come only for a top up of their drinks, but the small conversations of other people in the kitchen take control of Joe's attention. At first when the excitable boys huddled together, he hadn't though much of it -- but then he heard them say her name.

One of the guys was giddy with a cheesy smile, speaking a little too loudly about her to his friends. 'Did you guys see Daisy Moore out there?' he asked, his voice dripping with a shocked tone, like he had seen something so unbelievable.

'She's so fine.' Another one agreed. 'She's clearly the move tonight' He continued. Joe's eyes glanced over to them as he tried not to let Evelyn see. His jaw lightly clenching as the words flowing from the boys mouths. They were suggesting that Daisy was the easy choice for hooking up tonight, like any of them could hook up with her. Maybe in their dreams.

'Bro' One of the guys friends is struggling to keep it together as he laughed at his friends words. 'Daisy's last boyfriend is one of the best receiver's in college football, she's not touching you' Joe smirked as he heard the words, at least one of the guys in the huddle had some sense.

'When she looks that good, I have to try' Joe's smirk drops. The words cut through him like ice, and he could feel his heart rate spike. He grips his drink tighter, fingers tapping on it as he tried to keep his cool. He couldn't go up to them an cause a scene -- that would be social suicide for him and so embarrassing for Daisy. The idea of not only these guys but others trying to flirt with her made his stomach rattle in a way he wasn't expecting. He repressed it. Daisy was just someone he had fun with, a casual thing. Nothing serious. But hearing random dudes talk about her made him feel something he shouldn't in his chest -- a mix of irritation and protectiveness.

He hated the way they seemed to think they all had a chance with her, that she was just someone that could scoop up and have a shot with. She shouldn't be spoken about like that, like how Joe and his friends spoke about other women. Joe gulped at his own realisation. He had to find her.

Daisy was here, somewhere, and according to the random strangers she looked sensational. The not knowing what her costume was or how she was dressed was subtly killing Joe. Other guys eyes had been able to trace her stunning body tonight but his hadn't. Envy banged in his stomach. He had to see her, see if she was really looking as impressive as the boys were saying.

Evelyn had noticed the shift in his demeanour as he heard Daisy's name. He made it pretty obvious it was more than nothing between them, but she didn't think Joe realised that yet. She grabbed Joe's hand and pulled him out into the backyard, she wanted him for herself tonight. Some fun between old friends.

The cold air hit Joe's face.

They made there way to the crowded dance floor, Joe still being strung along by the delicate hand of Evelyn. Joe never usually danced but tonight was the exception.

The music was loud, a classic house remix of Memories by Kid Cudi thumped through the speakers. His hand spread across her waist, she was a little tipsy and her feet stumbled slightly as they swayed in the bustling crowd. The flashing lights bounced off their faces. Evelyn was an easy girl to be around -- fun, carefree and that was why he was drawn to her in the first place. Joe couldn't help but find the dancing between them enjoyable, her body close to his and movements in time with the song.

He glanced around the decorated backyard. Eye's open to see if he could spot her. His hands still remained on the hips of Evelyn, but his mind was elsewhere. Evelyn could tell, so she upped the sexual nature of her dancing. Her waist whined more, her ass pushed further into the material of his orange jumpsuit. Joe focussed on her once again, but only for a fleeting second because he caught something in the corner of his eye.

Justin and Ja'marr, both dressed up in the same orange jumpsuits as him. He scans the people around them, each face becoming more familiar. Carson, then Cassie, then Bella and then her.

She's not alone.

Daisy is laughing, her hair is bouncing with each movement as she dances with another guy, one that he doesn't recognise. He takes notice of the fluffy bear ears sitting on her head, a hint of her costume. He can't get a good look at her costume as strobe light and a flowing crowd obstruct his vision, but he can tell the skirt is short and the top is figure hugging.

The guy she was dancing with was taller, more muscular than the usual guys at frat parties. His hands were on her hips in a way that was almost knowing. Joe could sense a familiarity between them and that made him feel uneasy. Her smile was bright and wide, blissfully unaware that Joe was shooting daggers her way. Daisy was looking at the mysterious guy in a flirtatious manner, her eyes shining with a glint that Joe knew all too well. The way she was with this guy was different than she had been with Daniel. Joe could sense it. An untouchable itch in his stomach.

Joe tried to maintain his dancing with Evelyn, not alerting her to the fact his eyes were elsewhere but his movements were beginning to slow. His eyes couldn't shake Daisy, he watched on as she was spun away from the guy and then brought back into his arms. Daisy was so lost in his embrace, lost in the music bouncing in the air around them. Why should it matter to me? Joe though, trying to shake the envy that bubbled within him. Seeing Daisy so relaxed and at ease in the grip of another man was making him churn, and he couldn't ignore it.

He just needed to enjoy the company of the girl in front of him, enjoy the night. He stole one more glance at Daisy, her hand was around the neck of the mystery guy and his hand was resting on her ass. His jaw clenched. Then, Joe forced himself back to Evelyn. He moved closer, a forced grin plastering his face.

-౨⋆｡˚ House Three ⋆｡˚ৎ -

The Halloween festivities carried on into the third house. This place was smaller than the other houses, a more intimate rager than the one at house two had been. They weren't sure how much time they would spend at this place, but it would be enough time to tick it off the list of the seven deadly fraternities.

Joe and Evelyn stood close beside a beer pong table, a game set up but yet to be played. He knew Daisy was around here somewhere with the guy she was choosing to spend her night with, he had watched them leave. He had followed them into this house without her noticing, he just told Evelyn that it was because Justin and Ja'marr were heading here also. The excuse seemed to work, because they were here now.

Daisy saw Joe and his little blonde piece as she exited the bathroom. This had to be some sick joke the universe was playing on her. How was it out of all the houses he was at the same place she was? She was just thankful she had found Duke in the crowded backyard of House Two. Duke was the guy after Lucas and before Joe. The rebound. He was a super nice guy, charismatic, handsome, charming, the list went on. He played on the LSU basketball team, not that Daisy really cared. He wasn't a particularly special player, just average. He wouldn't make the NBA or anything like that.

Duke was a Daisy's much needed relief tonight. That was his purpose, and the reason she had drunkenly been clinging to him since she saw him. Duke went along with it, he wasn't going to turn down a woman as attractive as Daisy.

When Daisy's eye scanned to the surrounding around Joe, a plan popped into her head. She grabbed onto Duke's hand and led him over to -- a beer pong table.

Boldness swirled around her, clearly the costume made her feel confident rather than shy. That and the vodka cranberries lingering in her system.

'You guys want a game?' The voice he knew so well, pulled Joe from the sultry conversation he was having with Evelyn. They both turn their heads and see Daisy pointing to the beer pong table. The mystery guy stood at the end of the table, waiting to start.

For the first time tonight, Joe truly saw Daisy. Under yellow string lights with a warm glow bouncing from her smooth skin. He gulped. He knew why she was topic of conversation. The corset top was a flattering one, her breasts pushed up so high on her chest. She was a sexy bear cub. Joe wasn't even aware such a costume existed, but he liked it on her. A little cub. It was a fitting animal for her.

'Sure' Evelyn's voice is sweet like honey, a tight grin on her face. One she doesn't mean, and Daisy can tell. A tension forms thickly between the girls and in the air around the situation almost instantly. Daisy had asked Joe, not the woman beside him. Daisy pasted a fake smile on her own face, not wanting to come across bitchy or rude.

Rumours spread throughout the more intimate party about the match up that was happening in the dining room of the fraternity. Best quarterback in college football against average college basketball player. A match up for the ages. Of course, the majority wouldn't know that this was also an intense contest between a girl and the boy she casually slept with multiple times a week. Daisy and Duke against Joe and Evelyn.

Which couple would come out on top? and whose pride would stay intact?

The match up caused a crowd to form around the table, all eyes intensely following the ball as it got tossed from each end of the table.

Duke threw first. The ping pong ball landed perfectly in a solo cup of beer. Daisy cheered offering her teammate a tight hug. Joe watched her do it, her hair falling messily around her joy flushed face. Her small hands gripping onto the mystery guys biceps as she celebrated his below average shot that was lucky to have even hit the solo cup.

Justin, Bella and Carson stood behind Daisy and Duke. They were all rooting for them two to win tonight. Ja'marr and Cassie were standing off to the side from Joe and Evelyn. Ja'marr had to side with his best friend, and he feared the repercussions if he picked Daisy over him. Cassie, always sweet and gracious, decided to even up the numbers and didn't want Ja'marr to have to go alone.

Joe's turn came next, his eyes were stern with concentration and competitiveness. He had too much pride on the line to lose this drunken game, especially when the crowd around them was beginning to swell. He glanced at Daisy briefly before he took his shot, even in the dim light he could catch the devilish glint in her eye. A glint of something more -- something deep routed and charged, something mischievous. He let the ball fly from his hand. Touchdown. The ping pong ball sinks into the liquid with a light splash.

Evelyn squeals from beside him in joy, her hands clapping quickly. Joe gives her a hug of his own, but his eyes remain on Daisy. He watches as the mischievous glint in her eye falters ever so slightly, a mask slipping and revealing a more sinister emotion beneath it.

Daisy stepped up to take a shot, her playful energy lighting up the room around her. She was drunk, Joe knew a drunk Daisy well. She raised her arms to the crown confidently, invoking cheers from around as she readied her arm to take a shot. Joe knew she had no chance of making it, even if she was sober she wouldn't have a good chance of making it. She didn't give off the vibe that she was good a throwing balls, call it quarterback's intuition.

Daisy shot Joe a glance, like he had done to her. Her pale sage eyes were met with his cocky smirk and relaxed aura. He didn't believe she could do it, Daisy could see it written in his icy blue eyes. Joe underestimated her. If he clinked his two working braincells together he might have remembered the whole ex boyfriend of four years being a football player thing. Sure, Daisy was no gunslinger but she knew how to throw a decent ball. She could take the credit for a portion of Lucas Milo's high school training if she wanted too.

Joe's face drops as the ping pong once again hits the bottom of a beer filled red solo cup. His jaw ticks in annoyance as cheers ring out around him. He snaps his head at Ja'marr and Cassie as they shout out loud praises for Daisy.

Evelyn was up next, and her shot was pathetic. She missed the table completely. Daisy had to look away so that she wouldn't laugh at Joe's misery. She knew how much Joe wanted to win this game, and she would do everything to stop it.

The game went on dramatically, each shot towards the cups felt like a tug-of-war of emotions. The more times Joe had to watch Daisy embrace her teammate, the more his fists clenched by his side, the more his gaze darkened and his throws became driven by a forceful anger. The more times Daisy had to watch Joe flirt with Evelyn the more her stomach turned in nausea, the more annoyance bubbled under the surface of her hot skin, the more sloppy her throws became and the more the ping pong ball bounced onto the the sticky floor.

One cup stood on each side of the table. Every thing on the line. Pride the only thing left to play for. Evelyn had fluffed up her last shot, meaning that everything was left on the shoulders of Duke. Daisy crossed her fingers behind her back, eye's dancing across Joe's puffed out chest. She could almost feel the steam of annoyance coming off him, and she could tell there was a tension in the air between them.

Neither Daisy or Joe wanted to give in first. Joe wanted Daisy to come to him, lay her flirting on thick and pull Evelyn away from him. He wanted to see some fire from her, he wanted to see her falter. Just show him that she cared, even if it was only in small drunken moments. He had driven across town to help her, he took her to get food when she was hungry in the night. All small things but they were better than nothing. Daisy gave him nothing.

Daisy wanted Joe's attention. Daisy wanted Joe to only look at her, not because she had feelings for him, but because she wanted the ego boost. She wanted to feel like the most beautiful girl in the room, but Joe had spent his whole night with a woman that looked nothing like her. Both of them shared deep frustration for each other, both of them misunderstanding what the other wanted from them.

Duke lined up his shot, a strong arm balancing in the air as he gently leaned over the pong table. He let's his shot fly.

Joe's eyes narrowed as he watched the final shot arc through the air. It felt like the universe made the time slow tauntingly, the ball spinning through the air in a torturous motion. He watched as it his the edge of the solo cup and bounced into the sticky liquor.

Cheers erupted around them. A scream of ecstasy from Carson, and a more subtle one from Cassie beside Joe. Everyone seemed happy for them.

Daisy and Duke had won, fair and square.

She had beaten Joe with another guy, a guy he still had no idea about. The one who had his hands over her all night, and in victory that was no exception. She laughed and jumped into his arms, her legs wrapping around his torso as he placed a supportive hand under her skirt, likely on her peach shaped cheek. The mystery guy spun her around in celebration. Daisy's hands were wrapped around his neck, fingers lightly toying with the ends of his braided hair.

Joe drank the losing beer, then he forcefully threw the cup into the crowd. His jaw tight, and his brows deeply furrowed as anger began to brew within him.

Ja'marr noticed it. Cassie noticed it. They shot each other a knowing glance.

Joe's faced darken more as he watched the guy put Daisy back down on the ground. He was laughing -- too loudly, too happily. Daisy remained close to him, everything about the way they behaved with each other was too knowing, too familiar. The feeling of not knowing what was going on between them was gnawing away at the cold bones of Joe.

Joe let himself breath, a forced smile planting itself once more on his face. He wouldn't let Daisy see him falter, it was what she wanted. Instead, he grabbed the hand of Evelyn and pulled her close. A bare arm wrapping around her shoulders as he walked towards the mystery guy.

Joe held out his hand.

'Good game..' He looked only at the mystery guy and let the silence between them linger as he waited for him to take his hand and say his name.

'Duke, thanks man' Duke. What a classically terrible name, Joe thought. His hand shake was strong and firm. Duke matched him in height, if not even taller and he had an athletic build. Light tattoos traced across his arms, and a slit in his eyebrow. Iced out chain around his neck, even though it wasn't a part of his costume. Joe analysed every part of his competitors body. He was opposite to Joe, in every aspect.

Joe gave one last quick glance to Daisy. An arrogant glint in his eye.

'Let's dip to the next place, Evelyn' He emphasised her name as he continued looking into the victorious gleaming eyes of Daisy, childishly trying to wriggle under her skin. His words were harsh, a nasty tone that he didn't intend to leave his mouth was wrapped around every word. Anger boiled within him.

Beer pong wasn't the only game being played between them tonight.

-౨⋆｡˚ House Four ⋆｡˚ৎ -

The doormen of the fourth house stepped aside quickly as they say the quarterback walking up the porch steps with a sweet blonde wrapping herself around his arm. As he entered, the door swung shut behind him. He tried to shake the bad mood that had settled over him since the beer pong contest but it wasn't working. The wrath that was beating heavy in his chest was inescapable.

Joe's cold eyes scanned the room quickly -- the usual frat party activities were happening, music booming, people dancing, drinks flowing. All distractions available to him, but he couldn't seem to shake the image of Daisy. He couldn't get the image of the cheeky glint in her eye out of his head. The way she laughed, the way she jumped into Duke's arms; it was all flashing through his memory. In that room, surrounded by his friends, he felt like an outsider. Like he was intruding on something he shouldn't be.

He was here with Evelyn, but she wasn't her. She was fun, but not as fun as Daisy. She was carefree, but not as carefree as Daisy. She was sexy, but not as sexy as Daisy. In every department, she came up just short. Before he had seen Daisy, he thought her and Evelyn were equal. Both girls sat at the top of his roster in a joint position, but seeing them stood so close to each other made him realise -- Daisy was number one. Still, his hand rested lightly on the small of Evelyn's back as he guided her through the crowd, he tried to focus his mind on the way she caressed his hand softly and the way she looked at him so hungrily. Nothing worked.

They grabbed another drink, he continued to flirt with her. His own sweet nothings and charm leaving through his lips. Sometimes, he's see a petite brunette out of the corner of his eye, or heard honey like laughter from the crowd and his head would spin quickly. He would think it was her, but it wasn't. His chest would tighten in the anticipation, only for it to be let down. It happened one more time before Joe decided he needed a break, needed to get away from everything for a few moments.

'Stay here, i'll be back in ten' He tossed the words at Evelyn, not caring if she caught them or not. Then, he made his way out the back door of the frat.

The cooler night hitting him like a wave of relief. The backyard was quieter than the atmosphere inside, bathed only in the soft golden light of poorly put up bulb string lights and a fire pit in the back corner. A few people were scattered around, mostly mellow stoners with thick joints in their hands puffing the night away. Joe wished that was him, but he couldn't indulge during football season. He couldn't take the risk of a drug test coming back positive.

Joe grabbed a shitty dirty covered deck chair and sat on the back porch, his hand searched through the back pocket of his jumpsuit for the cigarette he had brought out in case he needed it. He was glad he had. His mind was still racing, replaying the night over and over again. The wrath that had been boiling within him was now just a simmer, but still present nonetheless. The sharp chill of the evening air was helping to dull the fire within him. He placed the cigarette between his lips and lit it with the flick of his white lighter. He took a long drag, exhaling slowly and watched as the smoke curled up them disappeared in the night.

Even the act of smoking reminded him of Daisy, taking him back to the garden of the bar in Austin. That felt like an eternity ago, but it wasn't. Only six weeks had passed since then.

The quiet nature of the backyard made everything feel more distant, like the noise and chaos of the Halloween night were in another life altogether. The flickering glow of the fire pit caught his indigo eyes as he exhaled a puff of his cigarette again. Glowing embers danced in the air around him. He leaned back in the creaky deck chair, eyes focussing on the stars above as he made every effort to clear his mind. For a split second, it felt like a small weight had lifted. Maybe, the doctors of the early 1900s weren't lying when they prescribed cigarettes as medicine.

The door to the backyard bangs shut, but Joe doesn't pay any attention. He takes another drag, the smoke comforting him as it filled up his chest with a warmth. He flicked the ash onto the worn green grass beneath him.

'You're Joe Burrow right?' An unfamiliar voice bring Joe back to earth from his dissociated mind. He looks to where the voice comes from and it's the last person he expects.

Carson.

Joe scans around him, instantly checking to see if Daisy was out their with him.

'She's inside' Carson tells him and Joe just nods. Carson grabs his own shitty, filth covered deck chair and places it next to Joe. The action makes Joe shuffle in his seat, sitting up a bit and taking a more tense drag of the cigarette. Carson pulls out a pack of his own Marlboro's. He takes out two, placing one on the arm of Joe's chair.

'You look like you need it' Carson's words are joking, cheerful as he tried to break the tension between him and Joe.

'Thanks' Joe's tight lipped and hesitant. He didn't understand why Carson had come and sat next to him, why he was making the effort to speak with him. He would smoke the second cigarette nonetheless, he only had a little left of his first one.

Silence engulfed them as Carson took his first drag from his cigarette. The smell of tobacco floating around them, clinging to their hairs and clothes.

‘Heard you had a fight with my brother Miles’ Joe looks at Carson, slightly confused for a moment. The alcohol inhibiting the work rate of his brain cells.

‘I mean Lucas’ Carson corrects. Joe nods, remembering the aftermath of the game against the Longhorns. Was that why Carson was out here? was he going to defend his brothers honour?

‘He’s annoying’ Joe spoke the plain truth, careful not to insult him too much but still defending what happened at the game.

‘He’s a cunt’ The harsh and blunt words of Carson made Joe spit out the puff of some he was holding in his mouth. He lightly coughs and Carson side eyes him with small judgement.

'You don't get along then' Joe asked.

'We don't talk. Period.' Carson inhaled his cigarette once more, letting out a breath and tapping off the ash before continuing speaking. 'He's a shitty brother and a shitty person, he only cares about football and Daisy'

Joe's chest constricts at the mention of her. A thumping pressure around his heart that rattled against his ribcage as he takes in Carson's words.

'He broke up with her, no?' Joe tries to be nonchalant, he tries to phrase his question as if he is partaking in small talk. Deep down, he did care to learn more about Daisy, more about the situations of her past.

'No, well yes, but no'

Joe's brows furrowed in confusion as he processed what Carson had said. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, taking the long final drag of his first cigarette before flicking it to the ground. Carson sighs, heavily. It was like something was weighing down on his conscious and he had to get it out.

'I'm telling you because I need to tell someone, and I know you wouldn't say anything' Carson talked to Joe like he had known him for years, like he was some sort of trusted ally.

'I made Lucas dump her.' Carson's breath is shaky. 'He had been cheating on her, she knew and wouldn't leave him. So-- So, I got some dirt on him, like kicked off the football team level dirt and blackmailed him into ending things with her.' Carson slumped back in his chair, desperately puffing away at the cigarette as the guilt clawed at him. He knew it was what was best for Daisy, but sometimes it felt like he overstepped.

'So you freed her from a shitty relationship, don't understand why you're stressing' Joe shrugs his shoulders.

'It wasn't my relationship to end' Carson's tone is wary and sorrowful, a crippling remorse booming in his smoke filled chest. His shaky hand takes another drag of the cigarette. Joe watches him, he feels sorry for him. The boy was clearly beating himself up over something he shouldn't have been.

'It's hard to understand, but my brother really does love her. In his own fucked up way. He just never learned how to love properly, our parents aren't really the best example.' Carson's voice cracks out before continuing. 'I hate Mil-- Lucas, but I know why he did the things he did to her. He's cut from the same cloth as our father'

Joe paused for a moment. He lights the second cigarette and brings it to his lips. The end glows a vibrant orange and more embers float up into the sky. He thinks about what to say, he wasn't the best at supporting people when they were emotional. Especially when he didn't even know them.

'She was your friend to save, and you did. Actions aren't written in out DNA, they aren't passed through genetics. They're choices we make as free people. Lucas made his choices, and you gave him his consequence.' Joe states the words like a matter of fact. They're casual but meaningful. He looks at the flames of the fire pit, an effort to not get attached to the situation he found himself in.

'Holy fuck, you're so philosophical' Carson lightens the mood with a quick joke.

The two boys sit there in a smoky silence once again, the ice between them broken and the awkward atmosphere no longer circling them. Both of them huff and puff at the tobacco filled papers, both trying to push all the clutter in their minds to the background.

'Whose Duke?' Joe built up the courage to finally ask.

‘She was hooking up with him over summer, just a few times’ Carson tells him.

Joe's stomach twisted tighter, a breath catching in his throat. He knew Duke wasn't just some guy she met tonight, he could tell it in the closeness between them. The familiarity of their touches, the sweetness of her smile. He shifted uncomfortably once again, an attempt to try and get rid of the simmering anger. Flashes of them two together once again plagues Joe's mind, but this time he's imagining things more sexual. He's imagining Duke seeing Daisy the way he sees her, arched in a messy bed with her cheeks flushed and her skin sticky. He rolled out his neck, his jaw hardened as he clenched it tightly.

Carson chuckles to himself as he watches Joe’s reaction.

Joe shoots him a harsh look, but Carson doesn't let it effect him.

‘One day, in a few years, after college is dead and done. When you're in the league and she’s doing whatever she's doing, you’ll see her and I bet, I bet good money the feeling you're feeling right now will still be there' Carson throws the end of his cigarette on the ground, standing up and stomping on it.

Joe doesn't look at him, and he refuses to acknowledge his words. Instead his eyes stare at the twinkling stars in the night's sky.

'We're heading to the house across from here next, join if you want but ditch the sorority girl with the tacky costume' Carson leaves Joe sat in silence. He struts back into the house, his final words left lingering in Joe's mind as he debated what he should do.

Did he leave Daisy alone? Did he let her enjoy her night with the boy before him, even though it stung like a scorpion's pincer? Did he settle for second place?

No. That wasn't him.

He knew what he wanted, and he would get her.

-౨⋆｡˚ House Five ⋆｡˚ৎ -

The house across the street had been transformed into something straight out of a twisted halloween night - a theme of horny devils. Every member of the fraternity was shirtless, covered in red paint and black devil horns. The usual mess of a busy frat party was amplified by the deep red lights that bathed the room, casting long shadows of people dancing across the white walls.

This house felt hotter than the other ones -- it was thick, almost suffocating with the combination of body heat, the frisky rap and r&b music, the sharp smell of alcohol mixing with the funky smell of marijuana and the fog machine making the floor hazy. The red glow made the place look like the depths of hell, that and the fake blood splattered across the walls. People on the dance floor were pressed close, closer than they had been at other parties. It was like they couldn't resist the erotic energy in the air. Boots stomped and heels clicked, bodied grinding into each other. The whole place burned under a sinful heat.

Including Daisy and Duke.

They were close, her hips moved against him and she could feel he was turned on. Every move felt more intimate and dangerous, like the fun was more about indulgence and temptation than lightheartedness.

Bella was in the corner of the room, she was making out with some girl. Justin and Ja'marr had hunted some woman of their own, both of them on the dance floor as well. Cassie and Carson bounced together, out of tune to the music but they were having fun.

Daisy, while Duke gripped at her waist, thought about Joe and Evelyn. They were probably fucking in his navy sheets right now. In the same bed she slept in, like she was nothing. Her red thong likely still hung above them on the headboard. Joe wouldn't care though, she knew that. She hadn't seen them since they left the party after the beer pong contest, but the gnawing sensation in her bones stayed with her. It was a shadow that loomed over her all night -- the feelings of envy, pride and greed. She wanted Joe for herself, but she wouldn't admit it. She wouldn't let him see that side of her. The side that was intense and selfish, wanting him to only want her. That wasn't Joe, she had to keep reminding herself. He's not a one woman guy. She shouldn't care but she did, she could blame it on the liquor.

She never felt this way without alcohol. It was the common denominator.

In the corner of the room, near a table of crimson lit drinks, Joe watches her. She doesn't know that he's here, that he's lurking in the shadows waiting for his opportunity to pounce. He brings a black solo cup to his lip, it's filled with a pungent mix of vodka and cranberry juice. His eyes glowed fiercely as he watched her under the red lights.

Greed clawed at his skin. She should be with him, she was his woman to fuck and no-one else's.

The way she danced put him in a trance, his brain falling under her spell. The heat crept over his slightly wet skin. Goosebumps on his bare arms.

He was tired of this push and pull between them. Tired of the game of cat and mouse. He finished his drink, throwing the empty cup over his shoulder. He wiped the remaining liquid from his mouth, then he pushed his way into the steamy dance floor. Blue eyes never leaving her, too scared that if they did he would lose her. She would slip through his hand's like sand.

Daisy senses something coming before she feels him, before she hears him.

'Get outta here bro' Joe speaks to Duke like he's pathetic, he's mocking him. His nose upturned against him, looking down on him. Joe knew he was better, and so he acted like it.

Duke looks at him confused, and he laughs him off. He just keeps dancing with Daisy. Joe rolls his eyes.

'What do you want, little cub?' Joe looks at Daisy.

Little cub. Daisy feels her stomach flutter at the new nickname. Joe's looking at her with the look she knew so well. Her eyes scan around him and she notices Evelyn isn't around.

'She's gone, ditched' Joe reassures her as he can tell what she's thinking. Daisy's heart pounds in her chest, her eyes dart to Duke and then too Joe. She knows her choice. It's an easy one, she hates how easy it is. She hates how quick she runs back to him. No matter how many times she tries to stay away, this electricity would keep her coming back. A feeling she had never felt, one that was so addicting.

'Okay' Daisy says, loudly over the music but still somehow hushed. She steps away from Duke. His hands dropping from where they had been on her body. She turns to look at him, too offer a shallow sorry for using him.

Duke holds up his hands. 'It's okay, you don't have to explain it. It's chill, heard about the rumours anyway.' He said before he headed off to find his friends again. Daisy hated that he had said that because it only served to make her feel worse. Guilt rippling through her skin. Heard about the rumours anyway. That clung to her. She was the football star's piece once more, and she always told herself she would never be that again.

'I need air' Daisy rushed off into the crowd herself, ignoring Joe's call for her to come back. She didn't know where she was going but she pushed her way out the front of the house. She shoots Carson a text, letting him know she was moving onto the next place. The night was getting super late, and the energy in the air was dwindling. There was only one rager left, them a quick stop in at Joe's fraternity.

She just wanted to get it over and done with.

Complete her seven deadly fraternities and then go home.

-౨⋆｡˚ House Six ⋆｡˚ৎ -

Daisy had knocked back shot after shot, alongside Carson and Cassie. Justin and Ja'marr had taken their girls and where doing something elsewhere, likely in a moan filled room and a creaking bed. Bella remained at the previous house with the girl she was hooking up with, likely moving to her off campus apartment soon.

Daisy had taken in the air she needed too, she had calmed down from the lingering guilt and panic that had settled in on the dance floor of the devil themed party. Once again, she felt calm. She felt like herself.

She watched Joe walk in, his head on a swivel as he tried to find her. Through the haze of flashing lights and bodies, he caught a glimpse of her. When he spotted her she was already looking at him. Carson was leaned over and talking in her ear but she wasn't paying him any attention.

Her lust filled eyes were staring into Joe's. She had chosen him and she could tell it had boosted his ego, his wife beater covered chest puffed out. A golden glow of victory surrounding him. The backwards cap always did something to Daisy, it was one of her favourite sights. When their eyes connected, an electric jolt shot itself through both of their bodies. Neither of them knew the other one felt it.

How deep is your love by Calvin Harris boomed through the speakers as they still looked at each other across the bustling room.

I want you to breathe me

let me be your air

let me roam your body freely

The atmosphere around them darkened. The feeling lay thick between them, the feeling they got when they knew it was about to happen. When an animalistic lust was about to take control of every action. Joe's eyes are sparkling, a thick smug smirk curling on his puffy lips. Daisy bites her lip, thoughts of what's to come running through her mind. It drives Joe insane.

how deep is your love?

is it like the ocean?

what devotion are you?

Joe needs her now, he can't stand the space between them. He needs to feel her, taste her. Be her sin. He pulls his phone from the back pocket of his prisoner costume.

pull me closer again

how deep is your love?

Daisy watched him type away on his phone, the white glow illuminating his tanned face. She never took her eyes off him, not until her phone buzzed with a text and she grabbed it. Now it was her turn to be illuminated by the dim white light of her device.

open up my eyes

tell me who I am

let me in on all your secrets

Joe

upstairs bathroom now.

Daisy's stomach drops as she reads his hungry words. She looks up at him and his smirk is so cocky and confident, hungry and determined. She pushed herself off the table she had been resting on, not hesitating as she headed for the stairs. It felt naughty, sex in a party bathroom. It was something she had never done before but she wanted to do it with Joe. She needed to do it. She wouldn't be able to wait until they got to his place.

So tell me how deep is your love, can it go deeper?

So tell me how deep is your love, can it go deeper?

Joe slipped through the crowd, rushing to follow behind her as she strutted up the stairs. They met each other at the open door of an empty bathroom at the end of the upstairs hallway. They looked deeply into each others eyes, with a ferocious hunger and a desire that had to be filled.

'After you, cub' His voice was almost purring, laced in sexual prowess. Joe needed her like he needed the air he breathed. As Daisy walked into the bathroom, he looked around. He didn't care if anyone saw, but he just wanted to make sure they wouldn't be interrupted for a short while. Enough time to fuck her roughly against the bathroom counter and fog up the mirror from the steaming heat between them.

When he checked the coast was clear, he slammed the door behind him. He went to bolt the door, sliding it across with a harsh click.

Daisy watched him do it, and she could see his broad shoulders rising up and down as his breathing increased. A thick silences wrapped around them like a warm embrace. Tension and anticipation vibrated around them, heavy breath as they both knew what was coming.

Joe turned around. Daisy gulped.

In an instant, he wrapped an arm around her waist and flipped them. Her back now pushed against the closed door and Joe's mouth hungrily on her own. Bodies pressed together, beating hearts in chests reflecting like a mirror. Daisy tossed his backwards cap on the floor of the cluttered bathroom, her hands then run through his soft hair as she lightly tugs on it.

Soft groans sound out around the damp bathroom. The environment around them was anything but romantic. Dull yellow wall tiles as the fraternity brothers seemed allergic to cleaning products, a grotty looking bathmat on the stained floors. They didn't care, they were just focussed on the pleasure that surged in their veins. The pleasure they both felt as soft lips touched and sweet liquor tasting tongues tangled.

'Jump' Joe growled into her ear as he moved his warm kisses to her bare neck, nipping and sucking as he went. He didn't care if he left a mark on her this time, usually he did but not today. Not when he was starving like he was.

Daisy abided by his command, her thin legs wrapping around his waist as he kept her pressed against the scratched door. His large hands holding her up by her ass. More sloppy kisses laid carelessly on her neck as she let out stifled moans, a poor attempt to be quiet. Not that it mattered, the music from the party should do a decent job of not alerting anyone to what was happening behind the bathroom door.

Joe moved her and places her on the bathroom counter, in front of the mirror. He stood between her spread thighs, the heat around them enough to start fogging up the mirror. Not once since they had gotten into the bathroom had they stopped kissing, like if they're lips parted from each other the world would crumble around them.

'Your costumes pathetic' Daisy lets out a quick jab as her hands claw at his back, leaving a trail of scratch marks which let everyone know she had been there. Joe chuckles into their kiss.

'I've never seen a slutty bear cub' Joe's word are harsh. A calculated clap back to Daisy's own insult. The words make her gasp and pull her head back from his, breaking the kiss properly for the first time. It doesn't last long. Joe places his hand as the back of her head, lightly tugging on her hair and pushed her lips back to his with nothing but pure lust and desperation.

Daisy, still annoyed by his words, put her hands on his chest and pushed him back. A discontent scowl plastered across her bronzy skin.

'I hate you'

They're words she only half means.

'Turns me on' Joe growls back and Daisy feels butterflies float in her stomach at the arrogant response. She couldn't help it, the cockiness that surrounded him made her inner thighs wet. The light sheen of sweat and the primal hunger in his eyes made her core hormones wild and crazy. She did hate him, because of the way he made her feel. Why did it have to be him who made her feel so alive?

They resumed the broken kiss, before Joe pulled her off the counter and spun her round so she was bent over it and facing the toothpaste splattered mirror.

He pulled her black thong half-way down her legs, leaving it hanging at her knees.

There wasn't anything glamorous about the way they were going to fuck, it was going to be quick and dirty. Daisy knew that and let out a moan of anticipation.

Joe gripped her hips and placed himself at her dripping entrance, flipping up her brown skirt so he could get the perfect view of her bent over. Then he pushed himself inside.

The pleasure from just the one thrust was so much he had to take a moment to pause, throwing his head back up to the higher power above and panting out heavy breaths. Daisy herself let out a small gasp as he filled her insides. Sometimes she forgot just how big her was.

When his moment of collection was over, Joe began to thrust powerfully from behind, they had to be quick. The party downstairs was busy and in a short while someone would be knocking at the bathroom door begging to be let in.

Daisy gripped onto the bathroom counter with white knuckles the sweet ecstasy ran through her body. Her dopamine now sky high as the quarterback hit her g-spot over and over. Joe hand one hand in her hair, lightly pulling her head back so she could watch them in the mirror. She watched as Joe's muscles tensed and tightened, his veins popping from his neck and his arms as he focussed on only one thing -- sultry pleasure.

His messy hat hair now sprung free and was bouncing on his head with each thrust, light blonde strands getting caught on the sheen of sweat that dazzled in the pale yellow bathroom light.

Joe watched had Daisy bit onto her smudged and swollen lips, trying to hush the moans that spilled from her. Her freckled cheeks were flushed red, and her fluffy cub head band was ever so slightly falling as he gripped onto her silky smooth hair. She was glowing in the pale light, her skin looked so soft and so tender.

Joe felt her legs shaking as he kept going, stronger and deeper inside her every time. He had had enough sex with her to know when she was close, and he could feel her tight walls closing around him. He was on his way to his own climax.

*Bang* *Bang* *Bang*

Their startled heads both turn to the door but Joe doesn't stop, more like he can't stop, fucking her. The air around them was so hot and sleazy, dirty little secrets being played out behind a party door. He looks back in the mirror and grips her hips harder, trying to make her finish quicker. She borderline screams out a moan of his name. Joe quickly covers her mouth to shut her up, now that they knew someone was beyond the door.

*Bang* *Bang* *Bang*

'Hurry the FUCK up' the unknown voice from outside the door yelled.

Joe kept going, his pace somehow becoming even quicker. Daisy didn't understand how he had the stamina to do it but she wasn't complaining, not when her climax was about to burst from her.

Joe's own grunts were the only noise that filled the room as he hand remained across Daisy mouth.

When he felt her become even wetter, and her legs almost give way, he knew she had finished.

*Bang* *Bang* *Bang*

Joe came to his own climax, filling her up with his load before moving his hand from her mouth.

Daisy's subtle whimpers rang out as she grabbed some tissue and wiped the dripping remains of Joe from her leg. She was shaky on her feet, and she knew she would be aching tomorrow morning.

Joe pulled his orange overalls up and tightened them once again, his eyes lingering on Daisy as he watched her pull the black thong back up her soft legs. He gave her a light smack on the ass before she had the chance to flip her skirt back down. When she turned around with a harsh glare she only met the childish cheeky grin of Joe.

'Let's get out of here'

Joe unlocked the door and walked out first. Daisy followed behind him, wiping the smudged makeup from her eyes and lips whilst also trying to brush her messy hair straight again.

The culprit of the banging stood in the form of a few sophomore fraternity brothers.

'Shit, our bad'

'We didn't know it was you, Burrow'

Their hushed and almost embarrassing apologies rang out and Daisy finds herself wanting the ground to swallow her up. They all knew what had been happening inside, and Daisy knew it was a rumour that would spread around campus like a raging untameable wildfire. Joe didn't seem to mind though, his head held up so high and his arrogance dripping from every step of his typical strut.

'C'mon, cub' Joe flicked the words over his shoulder as he sensed Daisy slowing as she come under the gaze of the fraternity brothers.

They only had one house left.

-౨⋆｡˚ House Seven ⋆｡˚ৎ -

Daisy approached the last stop of the night; Joe's fraternity. A house she knew so well, a place where she was beginning to feel comfortable and familiar. Joe lingered somewhere behind her, people stopping him on his way back to talk. Likely teammates or simply just friends from classes, Daisy wasn't sure. She never involved herself in that aspect of his life. If they didn't live in the house with him, then she didn't know them.

Loose and half done Halloween decorations hung from the porch bannisters, a blow up ghost sat on the front lawn. Daisy rolled her eyes and bit back a smile as her eyes danced over the poor efforts. Clearly, they hadn't cared about Halloween as much as the other fraternities had. People still lingered around, even at the dangerously late hour. Drunken men lay out on the red solo cup filled front yard. The sickly sweet smell of spilt whiskey mixed with the vile scent of vomit.

Daisy walked up to the porch stairs, but she stops when she notices something familiar glowing from the corner of her eye. A pumpkin, in fact two pumpkin's next to each other. One looked like it had been hacked away at by a toddler, a sorrowful rather than spooky face carved into it. There was pretty good cat carved into the one next to it though. I wonder who did that one, she thought in her head as a warm feeling pooled into her stomach. A sweet smile printed across her smudged puffy lips.

'Come on, cub' Joe pulls her away from her gaze on the pumpkins as he places an arm around her shoulder and walks into the house with her.

The place is destroyed. Litter everywhere, and an extremely unpleasant smell. Some people still remained around, a few dancing on the dance floor as they refused to call the night over. Ja'marr was in the corner, under the glow of a pink hued disco light, two girls wrapped in his arms and he's taking it in turns kissing each one.

'PARTY'S OVER' Joe removes his heavy arm from Daisy's shoulders, clapping loudly to get everyone's attention. The comfortable warmth that was once there now gone, cold air almost stinging her as it met her skin. Stumbling people groan and begin to walk to the front door like zombies. All of them so beyond drunk. The music still played out numbly. The Morning by The Weeknd.

Daisy's eye watched Ja'marr still in the corner with his two women wrapped under his muscular arms, while Joe helped escort people from the frat alongside the intoxicated freshmen brothers. The hands of the girls raked over his muscular abdomen, one kissing on his lips and another sucking at his neck. Ja'marr hand's taking it in turns to grip the voluptuous asses of the girls. Neither of them were the one he left the other party with. Daisy wondered if he had lost that girl, or if he had fucked her then moved onto the next. Her eyebrows were almost creased in an expression which said 'is this really something i'm watching right now?', never in her life had she seen such an open display of sleaziness. Perhaps that was hypocritical coming from someone who was just fucked in a dirty fraternity bathroom.

A whistle from behind her, and the feeling of a strong chest lingering over her shoulder made her jump lightly. Joe's arms extended past her and he clicked his fingers at his wide receiver to grab his attention.

Ja'marr turned his head away, a sloppy drunken grin which had a gleam of mischief decorated his face. A face which was smudged with make up that didn't below to him. Daisy's wide eyed, a small smile on her lips.

'Either take 'em to your room, or make 'em leave' Joe's voice is stern, a command that wasn't very forceful but Ja'marr still listens to his quarterback.

Ja'marr tosses one of the women over his shoulder, her high pitched squeal rings out through the room. She takes a hand and covers her mouth to stop the giggles from spilling out. He then grabs the hand on the other girl and begins to walk them to his room at the end of the bottom floor. Both of the girl are blushing, cheeky grins decorating their faces.

Ja'marr head is held high cockily. When he walks out the room, he stops at where Daisy and Joe are stood. Joe was still very close behind Daisy's back, he's towering over her almost protectively. Daisy can feel his booming heart beat against her, it's making her own breath's get caught in her throat.

'You wanna join, texas?' Ja'marr chirps out. A glint in his eye as he holds Daisy's gaze. Then his eyes flicker to Joe's.

Daisy felt Joe tense at the words Ja'marr flirted. His shoulders stiffening, light movement of his fists by his side. She can only imagine the look on his face, she doesn't turn herself to see it. Instead she just keeps looking at Ja'marr and watches his reaction.

Ja'marr's cocky smirk dropped as he met his quarterback's harsh gaze. Joe's jaw was clenched, as if he was holding back something sharper, something harsher. His eyes squinted letting Ja'marr know not to push him. His pink lips pressed into a thin line.

'Kidding' Ja'marr says before quickly scurrying down the hallway with his two hunted women.

Daisy felt Joe relax behind her, and the gust of air that his her back as he moved away from her. He walked over the refrigerator and pulled the heavy metal doors open, his eyes scanning for something to eat. He closed them with an empty handed huff.

'Bed?' Joe asked her. Daisy nodded her head in an enthusiastic response. The liquor had worn off and left behind droopy eyes and sloth-like desire to sleep.

-౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ -

That night, once again they slept beside each other. Daisy comfortably in some of his boxers and a oversized t-shirt. Her makeup taken off with the wipes she had brought over to keep there, her teeth brushed with the pink toothbrush he had bought for her.

Tomorrow morning, a conversation needed to be had. Both Daisy and Joe knew it. Their reaction to each other tonight told a tale which was much more than casual sex. They had to make adjustments to the rules of their little partnership, figure out where to go from here.

Neither of them knew what that meant for them. Come tomorrow morning, the whole thing between them might cease to exist or it was about to be taken up a step. The arrangement was either going to fall apart or push them closer.

Joe knew what he wanted, and so did Daisy.

But both of them repressed it, burying it deep in their minds and stomachs. It was something they wanted to ignore.

But ignorance can only last so long.

[softlypaintedseafoam]

a blazing star sought refuge in my chest

synopsis. your contract was simple ー the control devil would not use her powers on you; you just needed to stay with her forever.

pairing. makima x f!reader (afab)

word count. 7.2k | masterlist

content warning. part 1 spoilers (manga spoilers), canon divergence (makima never meets denji), man is a blazing star (series), character death, reincarnation, "find me again" trope, use of y/n

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

and now part 2 of my beloved (to me) series is here! what's so funny to me is that i published this during the early days of part 2 and a day before nayuta made her reappearance in the manga! i always thought that was a fun coincidence!

i. ハッピーエンド

“So, how’s the married life treating you?” Himeno deviated completely from what you were initially discussing.

Perhaps ‘marriage’ wasn’t too far off from what your relationship actually was. A life-binding contract was marriage in its own right. Despite your musings, however, the truth of Makima’s identity as the Control Devil was a secret. Even if it was Himeno, you wouldn’t let that fact slip. “It’s not the married life,” you replied instead. “But yes, things are going great. Does everyone still hate me for taking away their queen?”

It was quite the uproar when you both announced your departure from the Devil Hunters. Makima received more flowers than you could carry on your last day. It had been several years since then and now you were nestled in Takamatsu in Kagawa Prefecture.

You managed to find work in translation, much to the joy of your family back home. “We have to meet this girl who got you to quit,” your mother insisted, she’d hear no objections. She might have wanted you to come home to your country in general, but she was happy nonetheless you were no longer hunting devils for a living.

Himeno’s snort told you as much. “I don’t think Nanaka will ever be over it.” Himeno snickered.

“I’m glad to hear she’s still alive and kicking regardless,” you replied honestly with a chuckle of your own. Even if you had never seen eye to eye, you wished the brunette the best as Himeno mentioned setting Nanaka up on a blind date. “How’s your new partner?”

Himeno’s voice was a mixture of satisfaction and melancholy. “Aki’s great, he’s still alive after all this time. I wish he’d just settle down now. I’m hoping this new division helps with that.”

Right, Himeno mentioned something about it before. A Division composed of tamed devils and fiends, though it would be terminated should there not be any good results. “Any new additions?”

“Since last time, the Blood Fiend actually. Other than that, there’s still just the Spider Devil with the Violence and Shark Fiends.”

“Any other blessings I should know about?” What about that Angel Devil you talked about? You still keeping his discovery secret?

“None for now.” Still my best kept secret in the village I found him in.

“I see.” Good for him.

It wasn’t too long ago Himeno had sent you a coded message detailing her orders. She requested that if things about him ever came to light, you and Makima would help somehow. The redhead didn’t seem too interested in this request, but she agreed when you asked. The Angel Devil is a peaceful one, Himeno detailed in her script. He doesn’t have what it takes to kill, so I just want him to stay with the humans that brought him up. The little guy even has a girlfriend. Humans and devils living in peace might be a reality one day, I’m just not naive enough to think that’ll happen overnight. Maybe that’s what won you over now that you thought about it.

“Well,” Himeno pulled you away from your thoughts and back into your conversation. “There is a Zombie Devil I’ll be snuffing out tomorrow morning, maybe that’ll be our new member.”

You grimaced at the thought of a zombifying-devil. “Even I think that’s a terrible idea and I’m the one who decided to become a devil hunter just so I could travel.”

“You think every idea I have is terrible.” Himeno whined.

“Not every idea,” you corrected with a teasing tone. “Only most of them.” Upon turning a corner, you viewed the welcoming sight of your apartment door. “But look, I’m just getting home so I’ll talk to you later. Try not to get yourself killed tomorrow.” 

“Say ‘hi’ to the missus for me.” Himeno drawled before hanging up.

Still a maelstrom. It would always be a relief to hear from the playful devil hunter in spite of that maelstrom though. You sighed in satisfaction, reaching for your keys when the door opened on its own. 

The breeze must have drifted your scent under the door, you figured, as you welcomed the comforting sight of your girlfriend. “Welcome home, [First].” Makima greeted you warmly as you walked into her embrace. “How was your day at work?”

“Peaceful,” you pecked her cheek before kissing her lips. “How about you? Busy day again?” You weren’t the only one to find new work after your resignation from the Devil Hunters. Makima took to working at a small but popular café in the neighborhood, preparing tea and crafting baked goods. She told you before baking was merely an activity she took up to alleviate her boredom, but it had since become something she enjoyed. It was beneficial to your being as well as you happily indulged in testing prospective new items on the menu for her.

“The choux crème has been a really popular item, more people are coming in for it.” Makima replied, satisfied. You blanched at the emphasis of the dessert name and the hounding sound of heavy paws heading your way. Your reaction, sadly, was too slow as Makima’s many dogs came to greet you like clockwork.

“Maki- nooo!” You sputtered as Makima laughed gleefully at the onslaught of wet tongues and wagging tails. “Tell them to get down!”

Makima’s expression was teasing, “but they’re so happy to see you come home, see?”

You dodged another lick from Macaron with expertise. “You’re not funny, I hope you know this,” yet the grin on your face said otherwise as Makima finally got her pups to relax. I guess I’ll be washing up sooner than expected.

“Someone looks like she’s in a good mood today,” you noted as you massaged lotion onto your freshly washed face. Bagheera and Tora welcomed you home, brushing against your legs now that their larger canid roommates finished their turn. Makima moved about the kitchen, making tea. “Did something good happen while you were out?”

“Your mother called today,” Makima answered with a small but satisfied smile. You couldn’t hold back a small grin of your own at those words. That action alone would probably give your girlfriend enough happiness to last several days. To earnestly earn the love of your family and feel as if she were part of it herself, it meant more to Makima than she could ever express. “She wanted to practice her Japanese before she came here.”

“My mom called and she just wanted to practice her Japanese with you?” You implored in disbelief once you settled on the couch, Makima sitting between your legs as she drank a hot cup of chai.

Your girlfriend’s smile was an uncanny replica of the Mona Lisa. “She asked why you haven’t proposed yet.”

“Now that sounds like my mother.”

Makima took a long sip of her tea before saying anything else.  “Maybe we should be married in the human sense as well.” She set her cup down on the coffee table. “It’s the ultimate contract for humans.”

Your expression was curious. “You like the idea of marriage?”

“The idea of weddings was something I was always drawn to.” Her golden eyes had a distant look in them, her mind far beyond your comfortable living room with your many pets. Makima never went into the specifics of her childhood, but she told you enough to get the picture. She was simply one of the best kept secrets of the government; a young devil whisked off the streets of Tokyo to become a necessary evil. Concepts such as love, family and friendship were ones she learned from film and books. “The idea of binding yourself to another person for an eternity, it’s a concept I’m fond of. I wanted a big wedding.”

“I’m not opposed to a wedding,” you smiled. Marriage hadn’t been something you thought about prior to Makima. Your contract with her practically was one, all a wedding would make Makima’s integration into your family official. “I’m not sure if we have enough people in our lives to have the wedding size you’re thinking of, though.”

“I have plenty of people at the headquarters in Tokyo that would come if I asked.” Makima’s lips curved into a smile primal in nature while amusement danced in the rings of her irises. “Nanaka would for certain, she wouldn’t want to do anything to make me sad. If she’s still alive, we could extend her a personal invitation. What do you think?” At your dry look in response, your girlfriend chuckled lightly before pressing herself against your chest. “It’s a joke, I’m joking.” You decided to take her word for it. You always wondered to what extent it would be possible for Makima’s view of those who had fallen victim to her abilities as her equal. Perhaps it was one of those questions best left unanswered. “Weddings are one of those things that feel best when those in attendance truly care about the couple. I only want those people to come to our wedding.”

There was a lot of moral ambiguity that came with dating the Control Devil. Any devil really. You wondered if you were the only person in the world to do so, but you wanted to believe in the one you fell in love with.

Makima no longer relied on the fake relationships she manufactured with her abilities since your move to Takamatsu. Not for the interpersonal parodies she made to fill the loneliness inside her. She wasn’t perfect. Her first few weeks of generating business at her café were completely reliant on absolute control’s influence to bring customers in directly and through word of mouth. You were quite sure that power was how she obtained her job in the first place. 

But you’re still trying your best. “There’ll be people like that,” you cradled Makima gently as you kissed her forehead. “My family loved you before even coming over to meet you properly. More of your regulars are just normal people you just happen to talk to daily. When the time comes, lots of people will be there just because they’re your friend.”

ii. 「純愛だよ」

There would be many people that would come to the wedding for Makima’s sake, that you were sure of. Kishibe of the Devil Hunters, however, would not be one of them. This you were certain of as you recalled the day you encountered him only a month after your resignation. If not for the way he intercepted you outside of your apartment building on your way home, definitely because of his cold but calculating stare.

When the man made no move to explain what he wanted, you decided to move your piece first. Nothing about the encounter felt coincidental as you were led to a place with as few people as possible. “So what do you want?” You had seen from the ground level that Makima had opened the window and you wondered if she knew of this sudden arrival. “I’ve been busy planning a move and I want to go home, it’s my turn to cook dinner tonight.” You dangled your small bag of groceries, a few ingredients required for the dish you planned to cook.

“You can’t spare a moment to talk to an old work buddy?” In spite of his words, there was no nostalgia or yearning in his tone. Kishibe held out his box of cigarettes to which you declined before he lit a cigarette of his own. “It’s been a while after all, we haven’t talked in so long.”

“We barely talked in the first place,” you replied tersely. Besides introducing you and Makima to one another, you seldom saw the man held as one of the strongest in the Bureau. He was an enigma, a drunk enigma who still managed to do his job well. You were doubtful you’d be able to hold your own against him for long. “Hit me with that line after it’s been a few years.”

“How is Makima?” Your eyes narrowed at the sudden question. “It was quite the surprise to everyone that she resigned. I’m surprised the higher ups weren’t more insistent that she stay.”

“Cut the crap and tell me why you’re here,” you crossed your arms and you shared a knowing look. Whatever it was, you were on the same pageー both of you knew more than what you initially assumed. “What is it that you need to know so you can get out of our hair?”

“I suppose we can drop the pleasantries then,” Kishibe put out his cigarette as quickly as he lit it. “I’ve never been fond of Makima, but I could always tolerate her. Whatever inhumane deeds she committed, as long as I knew she was on humanity’s side, I could always turn the other cheek.” Tired black eyes that knew too much glanced at you piercingly. “I just find it strange that she decided to leave the Bureau to play house with a new toy.”

Your eyebrow twitched, but you held back your anger. “Because she’s the Control Devil, you mean,” you chuckled humorlessly. “Were you the one that brought her to officials? You worried that your dog got off its leash? Or is it because that dog turned on its masters?”

Infuriatingly but unsurprisingly, the man didn’t answer any of your questions. “I was worried that the Control Devil forced you into making a contract with her.”

“Makima can’t force me to do anything,” you scowled.

“Did she make you make a contract with her?” Kishibe queried. 

“That’s none of your business.” After a strong silence between you both, sighed. “It’s part of our contract,” you answered begrudgingly. It would be better to cooperate lest he decide to take action due to your insubordination. “Makima can’t use her powers on me. She couldn’t force me to do anything before anyway. I’m not sure about the specifics, neither is she. We just know she hasn’t been able to order me successfully.”

“And what does she gain from a contract like that?”

“We stay together forever,” a soft voice cut through the conversation before you could answer. Makima stood behind you in an accompaniment of caws and frantic wingbeats as crows dispersed from where she stood. You sighed in relief at her appearance, at the very least Kishibe was the only devil hunter that had come to inspect the motivations of the Control Devil. “Hello, Kishibe,” a cold smile spread across her lips as she softly nuzzled the crow perched on her forearm. “had I known you were coming, I would have made tea.”

“You don’t need to keep up appearances on my account,” the older man insisted gruffly as Makima sent her corvid on its way. “You’ve been listening since we left the apartment. You left the window open.”

The redhead seemed to take a dark thrill in this moment, “yes I suppose we don’t have to keep up those things,” she agreed fluidly. “I wanted to keep a listen out for [First] so I could greet her at the door when she came home. Anyone would worry about their beloved when a strange man intercepts them.”

I do not need a fight breaking out. Makima versus Kishibe, you worried less about the physical outcome. No, you were fearful of what the long-term consequences of this fight would be. “Makima,” you stepped between the devil and the hunter. “we finished talking, let’s go home. He got the answers he was looking for.”

Makima’s smile shifted into one warmer for you, “yes, let’s go home.” You held her hand with the one not holding groceries and gave it a squeeze, Makima squeezed back.

You glanced at Kishibe over your shoulder, “you have the answers you’re looking for,” you repeated.

It’s-

iii. ごめんな

Your wet cough tore you away from your memories. It hurt, it hurt, everything hurt. It all hurt, yet you couldn’t react beyond a weak gasp as you laid on the ground, crushed under debris. Ah, this sucks.

You get off hours early from work, and a devil decides to attack. Perhaps it was muscle memory from your devil hunting days as you absently reached for a weapon that was no longer there. It had long since been confiscated after you resigned, civilians had no need for such weapons. Yet the horrifying realization that your sword was gone, was all the devil needed before gleefully thrusting its hand through your stomach. This all sucking was truly the understatement. Where were the devil hunters patrolling the area supposed to be, stopping to get lunch?

Today was supposed to be a good day, you lamented.

Your half-day at work aligned perfectly with Makima’s off-day. You were supposed to swing by and change into something comfortable, then you’d hit the town. You recalled the dress she said she would wear. It was gonna be that white sundress she got last year, she looks so good in that. 

She was waiting for you.

That was what hurt you the most. Makima and the makeshift home you made for yourself. The two cats that slept anywhere that inconvenienced you and the seven dogs that welcomed you home rambunctiously everyday yet you were somehow still surprised when it happened. Makimaー

Your phone rang in the distance for the fifth time in the past six minutes.

I’m a terrible girlfriend, you berated yourself. You couldn’t crawl to it and your arms refused to move no matter how much you willed for your adrenaline to make a miracle happen. I’m sorry, you weeped quietly as your phone fell silent before the sharp trill of your ringtone started all over again. I’m so sorry.

You weren’t particularly religious, nor were you sure if there was a god that they would stop to listen to hear prayers for the sake of a devil. Still, you prayed. please let her be okay. I’m okay with dying as long as she’ll be okay. Don’t let this be what makes her lose hope in everything. I want her to be loved for the rest of her life.

Whether it was by your family that survived you, whether it was by the friends, whether it was by someone else who loved her beyond the controls of her abilities. Anything would be better than her being alone again.

Please.

Please.

The continuous trill of your cell phone accompanied you until your eyes closed, and your chest stopped heaving.

iv. 彦星と織姫の物語

At five years of age, you dreamed of a prince on a magnificent horse saving you from a life of despair. 

The world was unimaginable without your parents.

And you were sure you were born for a special purpose, a belief amplified by the strong feeling something was missing in your life and you needed to find it.

At thirteen years of age, you understood how the world truly  worked.

The world continued despite the loss of your parents.

There were no princes riding on magnificent horses and there wasn’t anybody who would save you from the despair-filled life you were living. 

And no one was born with a special purpose in life, not even you.

One… two… three… four… You held yourself tightly, forehead pressed against your knees as you waited for the sound of rushing footsteps to fade. It was just your luck that you ran into cops that found it more than a little suspicious that a preteen was wandering around instead of at school. They were unconvinced when you told them you were homeschooled and a kick to the shin later, you were hiding in an alley. Just a little while longer, you whispered, hugging yourself tighter. There was no prince that was going to come and save you, you realized this the moment your parents died and you were left alone in the streets of Beijing to fend for yourself. You became your own prince.

That was why you stole from merchants, that was why you picked pockets of anyone gullible enough to let their guard down.

You stood up from your crouch when you were sure the police officers were gone. You’d earned enough cash that day and something for dinner to boot. It was time to go home before you got too cocky and landed yourself in trouble. You patted your pocket with the squished meat buns in them. That would be enough to get through today.

You just needed to save. You were unsure of the amount you needed to save, but once you had enough, you would be able to get out of this place. That belief reassured you more than anything, it certainly reassured you more than the dead magpie your right foot nearly touched. Ew gross! You nearly touched another in your attempt to avoid the first. The cats would be in heaven later when they found this spot you grimly thought.

You glanced to your right, wondering if this would be a decent alley to leave into the main street when you saw a girl your age sitting with her knees bunched to her chest. You couldn’t see her face from how she was hunched over, nor did you trust her. It didn’t look like she was with anyone else, though it crossed your mind that maybe she was a decoy so you could get jumped.

You glanced over your shoulder without turning, relieved no one was standing behind you. You’d seen it happen more than once, you weren’t going to be another victim. Promptly, you turned around, more than willing to pretend you never saw the girl in the first place and exit in the opposite direction when-

Growl.

No, you told yourself sharply as you paused midstep. Giving someone else your food would be a terrible idea. She can find something for herself.

That was what you told yourself; it was what you told yourself and you still begrudgingly turned around, stomping your feet all the while when there was no one to be mad at but yourself.

“Here,” you grumbled without looking at the girl, holding your misshapen haul over her. “take it before I change my mind.” When she made no move to take the buns from your hand, you dropped them in front of her. The wrapping would keep the dirt off of them. “You’re welcome,” you sighed as you finally took your leave. Your only consolation was that she wasn’t a decoy that would lead to your ass getting kicked. There goes dinner.

When you felt a gentle tug on your sleeve, instinctively you jerked away.

You glared at the girl, ready for a fight. “Hey get off of m-,” You. Your words halted as soon as you saw her wide-eyed stare and tears. There was nothing familiar about this girl, you had never seen her before in your life. There was nothing familiar about her black hair, nor the mole under her left eye. You were sure you couldn’t say you’d ever met anyone with golden eyes with red rings in them either. There was no reason to feel like your senses had been set ablaze and the universe shifted.

You didn’t know this girl.

This girl was a stranger.

You knew this and yet you still fell to your knees as warm tears flooded your eyes without your permission. Your mind had gone blank, unable to conjure a single thought and even if you could, you doubted you would be able to voice them. So you followed instinct as it screamed at you to hold this stranger in your arms, welcomed the way she threw her arms over your shoulders in return.

An indeterminable amount of time passed while you cried in the arms of a stranger before you stood up again. 

As you wordlessly led her to your home, it vaguely crossed your mind how strange this was. It was strange that you held this girl’s hand while you crossed the street. It was strange that you led her into the abandoned apartment building you called home. It was even stranger that despite only meeting a few hours prior, you were laying with this girl on your tattered bed, holding each other like you were scared you’d disappear if you let go.

It was all strange, but something told you it would be even stranger had you ignored her in that alleyway. “By the way,” you yawned, as it dawned on you that you never once asked for your new companion’s name. “what’s your name?” 

When there was no immediate response, you thought the girl fell asleep. “Nayuta,” you finally heard the feathery light reply. Nayuta pressed herself closely to your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

“I’m [First],” you squeezed.

Nayuta squeezed back.

v.「行かないで！行かないで！行かないで！どこにもいけないで！離れないで！あたしのそばにずっといて！」支配の悪魔が叫んだ。魂が叫んだ。

You discovered Nayuta was a devil less than a month after you started living together. She did a terrible job hiding it. Considering how airheaded she could be, though, you doubted Nayuta was truly trying to keep it a secret. Still, the truth of her nature eluded you for a few weeks as you initially accepted that perhaps these things were simple coincidences.

Her eyes were unlike anyone else’s eyes you’d ever seen. (You wondered for a while if they were special contacts, but if they were, they were beyond dried and damaged considering she never took them out.)

Animals listened to her way too easily. (There was no longer any need to fight off the crows when they got too close to your meal. A simple “go away” from your companion, and they would fly off just as she commanded.)

There was the time you bore witness to something you wouldn’t have believed had you not seen it yourself. Nayuta walked up to an older woman, held out her hand and plainly demanded, “give me all your money.” Promptly, all the yuan in the woman’s wallet was placed in Nayuta’s hand.

(“That old lady just gave you all her money?” You gawked in disbelief, eyes bulging out of their sockets. “How?!”

“I told her to give it to me,” Nayuta told you plainly, like she was telling you the sky was blue. Then she told you she wanted soup dumplings and jianbing for lunch.)

As such, it was no wonder why you found yourself thinking that she was a devil. It never crossed your mind that perhaps she had another sort of trick up her sleeve. Devil was the first thing that came to your mind and the only answer you felt was right.

“Hey, Nayuta,” you asked after much contemplation, watching as she drew a dog on the dirty hardwood floor of your home. Your belly was full from eating roujiamo and candied hawthorns, purchased with money Nayuta got from a mean teenager. “are you a devil?”

Nayuta paused her ministrations, staring at her rough sketch before she nodded, “yeah.” Her revelation wasn’t a surprise in the slightest. Gold eyes stared into yours as you thought over your next question. Were you scared of her now? No, you answered your internal pondering quickly. Being scared of Nayuta felt like an inherent rejection of what made you ‘you’. You’d never be scared of her, there was nothing intimidating about a devil who wanted a large dog so she could ride atop it like it was a horse. Instead you asked, “what kind of devil are you?”

“The Control Devil,” she answered truthfully.

“Have you ever used your powers on me?”

It was like a dam suddenly broke as Nayuta’s expression suddenly changed from blasé to fearful. “I haven’t!” When did she even get in front of you? It felt like you had only blinked once before she was standing right in front of you, grabbing your hands tightly as she shook her head frantically. “I haven’t!” She repeated desperately and you almost took a step back in bewilderment. You hadn’t seen Nayuta cry since the day you first met but you could tell these tears were different.

Her tears from your first meeting were inexplicable. A visceral reaction to whatever emotion took over the both of you that day. These tears were based on fright and distress.

“Na-,” you tried consoling the girl, but panic had overtaken her completely.

“I didn’t, [First], please believe me!” Nayuta begged hysterically, her grip on your hands somehow tighter. “Don’t leave me!”

“I believe you!” Your heart felt like it was beating a million kilometers a second, but you had to convey how you felt. Nayuta looked as if she was going to cry once more, scared but hopeful.“I believe you,” you repeated softly. “I’m not gonna leave you.”

vi. 誓いの言葉

Nayuta wasn’t much of a talker.

That wasn’t to say she was timid, nor was she diffident. It was more like she was an airhead who skipped to the beat of her own drum. She did as she pleased and she said what was on her mind as it came to her mind. That was how you often ended up spending hours of your day looking for her if she suddenly ran off to find something that piqued her interest or keen sense of smell.

This time thankfully, she’d only been drawn to the display TV in front of a store. That was leagues better than the time she’d wanted to see why two cats were fighting in an alley.

You shot the girl an incredulous look, hands on your hips. “I keep telling you not to let go of my hand when we walk, you always get lost,” you scolded, more concerned than annoyed. The last thing you wanted was for Nayuta to run into devil hunters while you were separated. It was your worst fear that she would be taken from you and killed. Despite your worries, however, it didn’t always prevent instances when something would catch Nayuta’s eye and she’d let go of your hand in favor of checking out.

“[First],” Nayuta pointed at the television, completely ignoring your worry. “[First], I want one of these.”

You pursed your lips in annoyance knowing Nayuta had moved well beyond the matter at hand. At the excited look in her ringed eyes, however, you felt your annoyance fading faster than you’d like. “You want what?” You looked at the TV, wondering what grabbed her attention so much. It was a wedding, you realized after a few seconds. The wedding was western style, the bride donning a beautiful white dress. “Do you want the dress?” There was absolutely no way you’d be able to finesse a wedding dress no matter how hard you tried.

“I want the wedding.” That made you look at her even more wide-eyed than before.

“We can’t afford something like that!” You held up your hand before she could make her ridiculous suggestion. “And they won’t let two kids get married anyway, we’d have to wait until…” you honestly weren’t sure, now that you thought about it. You shook your head and Nayuta’s brow furrowed with a disgruntled pout, “anyways, we can’t have a wedding like that, it costs too much money.” When Nayuta didn’t reply, you poked her cheek. “You okay?”

Nayuta’s following grunt was neither in agreement or disagreement. When she didn’t object to you holding her hand, you held back a snort of amusement as you led the way home. It became apparent later on, when Nayuta approached you with your off-white bed sheet, however, that she had not gotten over the topic of weddings.

“It’s my veil,” Nayuta said as much when you asked why she was wearing your sheet. “I want the wedding now.”

“If you don’t put the sheet back on the bed, it’s the only one we have!” Laughter slipped through your words at the ridiculous display. But she’s still really cute. A total dork, but cute. Your hands moved to adjust her ‘veil’ more evenly on her head. You wanted to marry Nayuta when you grew up; when you had your house and weren’t living off scraps. Then her veil wouldn’t be the dirty sheet you laid on and she could wear the princess-style gown that you saw in the movie, not the dirty clothes you wore everyday. That was a long day away, you knew. It was hard enough imagining that you’d ever be somewhere better than this. “Okay,” you said warmly. “let’s have a wedding.”

Nayuta beamed, holding her head high, before she noticed the sheet slipping. You couldn’t hold back another snicker at that, “we have to say the vows first,” you instructed. “It’s where we promise each other the things we’ll do for each other once we’re married.” Your mother was fond of movies where weddings were the center of the plot, but you couldn’t recall any of the vows expressed in them. “I promise…” you began, pondering what you would say. I promise that first, I’ll get you a big house. One that has lots of dogs, well, as long as they’re cats too. We’ll have food from all over the world because we’ll have some fancy butler make it for us, and when we feel like it, we’ll go to any amusement park we want. And I’ll protect you from any devil hunter we come across.”

“I promise that I’ll be with you forever,” Nayuta followed seamlessly in your exchanging of vows. “I won’t use my powers on you. I won’t let go of your hand when we go out, because you get upset when I get lost. And I promise I’ll protect you too.”

You grinned, content. “Now we have to kiss too.” It was a quick kiss, a simple peck on the lips before you rested your forehead on hers. “And I now pronounce us wife and wife.” The imaginary audience applauded, welcoming your union in open arms.

“The people in the movie were dancing too afterwards,” Nayuta chirped after a moment.

“That’s because we’re supposed to have our first dance as a married couple afterwards,” you replied. The sheet, unfortunately, could not keep up with your dancing even if it was a slow waltz to an unknown melody you made on the spot.

“I want a real wedding this time.”

I do too. “We can get married for real when we grow up,” you vowed once more as you clumsily led each other in your dance.

Nayuta’s smile was saccharin, “promise?”

“Promise,” you repeated joyously. “it’ll be in a fancy hall with lots of people.” Not that either of you knew enough people to have even a small number of guests at your wedding. But that could change by the time you are grownups. 

vii. 旧友

The day the devil hunters came was a blur.

You weren’t sure what it was that led to their discovery of Nayuta. You could only guess in the future that it was because of the trail of people who complained that their money had been stolen and they couldn’t remember how. At the time, guessing wasn’t going to get you out of the situation you landed yourselves in.

They didn’t buy your usual excuses.

There wasn’t anywhere to run in the corner they expertly trapped you in as you ran away, believing you had been making progress in losing the one following you.

You held your arms out between, knowing full well you were a flimsy shield to someone trained to kill devils.

Nayuta fingers dug into the back of your shirt, body tense. Her abilities required she believe one was lesser than her for her to order them, that was impossible when you were both scared out of your wits cornered with nowhere to go.

The woman kept an eye on you both, weapon drawn in one hand, phone in the other. “I found the C-” were the only words she managed to get out when she suddenly collapsed, revealing the scarred old man behind her. You learned later he called himself Kishibe.

You weren’t sure if you should have felt relieved when you saw the old man, suited up as any other devil hunter would be. You didn’t like him, that much you had decided in your silent stare down. 

He released a raspy sigh, humming thoughtfully as he crushed the unconscious woman’s phone. “I came here expecting to only find one of you,” the man scratched the side of his head sluggishly. He eyed you carefully with a sense of recognition you couldn’t quite place before his eyes drifted to Nayuta beside you. “The Control Devil really is a selfish one.”

viii. マキマとナユタ

“You’re starting to look like me, Himeno.” It had been years since he’d last seen the woman and she seemed tired beyond her years. If Life played favorites, it was more than apparent Himeno was not one of that group. Aki died, succumbing to his final two years to live. The Chainsaw kid took off before then in the aftermath of the brief but chaotic attack of the Bomb Devil. Perhaps she’d been driven mad, perhaps she craved being the country mouse of Aesop’s fable. It was all the woman could do to run off with sister and the Blood Fiend, nestled in the quiet coastal town of Shonai in Yamagata Prefecture.

“It’s rude to point out a lady’s age, sir.” Himeno accepted the cigarette regardless. A large portion of her bangs were white and gray, her eye showing signs of crow’s feet. “What are you doing in little ole Shonai?” Smoke wafted from her mouth with a soft exhale.

“I started my own delivery service,” Kishibe gestured his cigarette to his car. “and you’re my first and only customer.”

Himeno’s smile was amused, but her one visible eye was anything but. “Funny, I don’t recall me or my sister ordering anything.”

“Consider this your lucky day then, it’s the delivery of a lifetime.” Kishibe didn’t miss a beat. “It’s a two-for-one deal.”

“I’ve had enough once-in-a-lifetime deals.” Himeno crushed her cigarette on the bottom of her foot before flicking it to the wayside. With more than a hint of finality, she waved and walked in the opposite direction of his vehicle.  “Whatever it is, you should keep it to-”

“It’s the new Control Devil.” Those words made Himeno stop in her tracks. “They discovered her in China, but I managed to nick her.” Just in time to thwart disaster. Makima had been a ticking time bomb that had been staved off successfully when ー appeared in her life. That timer began once again when ー was killed in an attack by the Rat Devil. If the Chinese government had disposed of your current incarnation in front of the new Control Devil, Kishibe knew that there would have been no preventing the hell that would be unleashed upon the world.

Still, it would be best for the two of you to be protected til you could properly fend for yourselves.

Himeno’s shoulder shook for a few moments, it wasn’t hard to imagine the thoughts going through her head. I can keep on walking, she possibly thought. I can pretend I didn’t hear anything. Yet human nature got the better of her, Himeno sighing shakily, “why’d you bring her to me?”

“I’m not fit to raise children and out of all my old contacts, you’re the one I trust the most to do a good job handling her.” Kishibe answered truthfully. Not even Quanxi could be relied on for such a task. As much as he trusted his unrequited love, he knew the woman would have less of an interest in raising children than she did his old advances. 

“What’s the second part of the deal?”

“Take a look in the car.”

Warily, the former devil hunter turned around, taking slow steps towards the car and leaned close to the window.

Himeno said nothing for a while as Kishibe watched her back, knowing that she was likely experiencing a strong wave of emotion. Everything likely clicked the moment she saw you. The same skin tone, the same hair texture, everything exactly the same as she remembered. “ー always knew about Makima, didn’t she.” Despite her phrasing, it was not a question. It was a soft, emotional observation. 

“This new one shouldn’t have any of Makima’s old memories, but it seems this is one attachment she can’t shake.” Perhaps this was part of their contract. Leave it to Makima to make the implausible possible. The life of a devil may have been cyclical in nature, but reincarnation among humans was unproven. Yet here you were in all your similarities to ー. Kishibe didn’t ponder what this meant for humanity. If this meant his old buddies were somewhere walking around earth as new beings.  Perhaps you were simply an exception, a product of the contract ー made with Makima. Makima did say you’d stay together forever. 

Kishibe doubted he would ever receive an answer. All he was certain was that if you were the one thing keeping the Control Devil from wreaking havoc on the world, you were a necessary piece of the puzzle.

“This one isn’t ー either, she’s [First]. She doesn’t have any memories from before.” Kishibe warned, lightly tapping Himeno’s shoulder. He didn’t need the woman to get any false hopes. ー was dead, there was no doubt about it. The age separating Himeno and yourself was succinct proof. You weren’t the friend she lost more than a decade prior. “If you really can’t handle it, I’ll figure things out.” 

Himeno’s one blue eye shone with more fire he’d seen since the last time he’d seen her. “I’m glad you feel that way,” the man tipped his proverbial hat to her. “I’ll be back when they’re old enough for defense training.”

“Hey, Gramps, where are we?” You demanded once you had woken up, rubbing your eyes tiredly. He might have saved your life, but he had kept you in the dark long enough. 

Nayuta ungraciously yawned,“I have to pee.”

The wizened man took a hard look at the pack of cigarettes in his hand before shoving it in his pocket, sighing heavily. “We’re in Shonai over in Japan.” At last, he introduced the woman next to him. “This is Himeno, she’ll be taking care of you both from now on.”

You shared a look with Nayuta, wondering if this place would really be the best for you. It beats living where we were though, you were forced to admit. A part of you would miss the room you and Nayuta called home for the longest time, where you had your wedding and where you drew on the floor when you got bored. But you planned to leave that building someday, hoping you’d be leading a better life by then. ‘Someday’ simply came faster than you expected.

Thanks, old man, you doubted you would see much of him again though as you saw his car become smaller and smaller in the distance.

“Do either of you like cartoons?” Himeno asked when it was just the three of you. “What do you like watching?” When neither of you could come up with a response, Himeno cheerily made the decision for you. “We have the complete Ashita no Nadja set at home, we can watch that when we get there. But since we’re celebrating your arrival, you have to pick dinner.”

Nayuta wasted no time in answering that question, “I want pancakes.”

You rolled your eyes, bemused. “What if I want burgers though?”

Nayuta looked at you carefully, as if she hadn’t considered the possibility. “We want burgers and pancakes,” she told Himeno a second later.

translation notes:

i. happy end ii. it’s pure love iii. sorry iv. the story of hikoboshi and orihime v. “don’t go, don’t go, don’t go! don’t go anywhere! don’t go away! stay with me forever!” the control devil shouted. her soul shouted. vi. word of oath vii. old friend viii. makima and nayuta

<- part 1 | part 3 ->

[charliemwrites]

Chapter 1

Content: Violence, Murder, Horror Elements, Masturbation, Kidnapping, Threats, Mild Pet Play, the One (1) use of an ableist slur

It’s the middle of October when Soap convinces you to go camping.

Autumn has sunk its teeth deep into the countryside, bleeding green from the trees and leeching warmth from the days. Deep shadows and lengthening nights are cold enough to condense breaths into pillows of steam. All of the little critters are fattening up and bedding down for a frigid winter, prepared to be snowed into burrows and dens until spring pries away the ice.

Your hip already aches through the first half of your morning exercises. The ghosts of splintered shrapnel prick beneath tender scar tissue until the rust of sleep flakes away. Lying on hard, cold ground sounds like a one-way ticket to agony. You’d much rather be one of those fluffy bastards curling up to hibernate. You tell Soap this on Monday when he initially proposes the idea.

Besides, you add, trying not to chug your coffee, Soap’s in no condition to be fucking about in half-frozen woods either. Not with his finicky nerve pain.

On Wednesday, when you meet up again, he takes a different route. It’s been too long since you two last dipped into a civilian-appropriate but military-adjacent activity. Paintball, knife-throwing, base-jumping…

Your bed is starting to feel too soft and too big again. The city is loud but not the right way. The tedium of self-imposed routines is starting to grate on nerves still tuned for combat. If you don’t get out before the trap of winter snaps closed, you might go mad. You can see it in Soap’s eyes too, a manic glint behind glass blue.

But still. Camping feels too much like what you’ve just left – the shrinks probably wouldn’t approve. Not that you’d ask them.

On Friday, Soap offers a compromise. His grandfather (“Seanair”) left him an old hunting cabin out in the countryside. Nothing luxurious, but it’s got a fireplace, cots, kitchenette, bathroom. It’ll be more like holing up in a safehouse than roughing it for a mission. More importantly, it’ll be gentler on your battle-worn bodies.

That next Monday, you meet him at the café with supplies packed and an honest anticipation for a week off the grid.

*

“Yoohoo! Any murderers about?” Soap calls. “Any armed psychos? An angry raccoon, perhaps?”

You scowl, caught behind him in the doorway. “I thought you checked it out already?”

“Aye, but ye ne’er ken,” he reasons, shrugging. He shuffles in as you nudge him. “We’ve the luck o’ the devil, you an’ I.”

You snort as you start kicking off your shoes. “True enough, I s’pose.”

“Course, I like our odds against any weirdo wi’ a knife, don’ you?”

You shrug. “Maybe. Not so sure about a raccoon though. Think we’d be fucked.”

“Och, tha’s right. I remember your lectures about rabies.”

“Good.”

You snicker at his grimace, likely feeling the phantom sting of vaccines.

The cabin is cute, honestly. There are only three rooms – the living room/kitchenette, the bedroom, and the bathroom. The bathroom is small enough that you could stretch your arms across the width of it and touch both walls, but it’s got a working shower so you’ve no complaints. The bedroom has a dresser and a nightstand, plenty for you and Soap.

While you set to work putting the groceries away, Soap putters about opening windows and making up the beds. The two of you don’t immediately have much to talk about, considering how often you see each other and the long drive out. It’s alright, though, you’ve long grown comfortable in stretches of silence together.

Once settled in, you suggest a walk to explore the area. Part of it is genuine interest in appreciating nature before the sun sets early. But there’s also a large, paranoid part of you (sounding like your old captain) that demands you get your bearings. Just in case.

There’s a loch about a mile from the cabin, a beautiful sheet of dark glass big enough for decent fishing. You’re able to see the row of holiday homes on the other side but wouldn’t be able to see any people on their docks out there. You and Soap follow a deer trail for a way, exchanging stories of your respective childhoods.

No surprise that John MacTavish was a wild child with a rebellious streak that got him in trouble more often than not. He gets you laughing bright and easy before long, and for once it doesn’t feel like playacting as a Normal Functioning Person.

When the sun starts to skim the evergreens, you return to the cabin. You start up a pot of cheesy mac while Soap gets the fire going, pyromaniac that he is. Once it’s burning nicely, he starts closing up the windows. Not too soon either – the temperature is starting to dip and twinging at your hip, unhappy from sitting in the car so long.

The two of you hum over empty carbs and excess dairy by the fire, a glass of scotch for each of you. When you’ve had your fill, he washes the dishes, you pour another round, and the two of you settle together on the old sofa.

“Almost been a year,” Soap says after a while.

You sigh through your nose, stare into the dwindling pool of amber in your hand. “Three more weeks.”

“You miss it too.”

Against your will, your eyes slide sideways, to the hand he’s clenching and unclenching on his thigh. There’s a wicked line of scar tissue beneath the sleeve of his shirt where the surgeons salvaged what they could. Mostly successful too, apart from the damaged radial nerve that ruined his career.

“So much, Soap, fuck.”

You didn’t mean to say that. You’re supposed to be the healthy one here, encouraging this necessary and healthful change to your lives.

As if reading your mind, Soap hums, bumps his elbow into your ribs. “No shame in it.”

You shake your head. “I don’t even know what I miss.”

“Feeling useful, I reckon. Feeling… necessary,” he muses, subdued.

It’s insightful but too accurate. Too selfish. You rub your thumb over the lip of your glass.

“I hate that I can’t keep an eye on Price and Gaz,” you say. “Feels like I’m always waiting to hear the worst, ya know?”

“Yeah,” he whispers roughly. “I ken.”

*

The two of you end up falling asleep on the couch. Soap, sitting up with his sketchbook, and you folded into the corner against the arm, book pages fluttering between lax fingers. At some point, the cramped position aches enough to wake you. Your eyes flutter open, low fire throwing long, deep shadows across the wooden wall.

Something is watching from the window.

You jolt up, hand reaching for the gun you no longer carry on your thigh. The movement jostles Soap awake as well. It involuntarily draws your eye, just a fraction of a second. But the haunting shadow is gone by the time you turn back.

That’s not enough for you. You roll to your feet, hiss as your knee threatens to give. But you manage to get your balance and snatch your combat knife from your boot as you storm towards the door.

“Kit? Kit! The fuck is going on?!” Soap calls.

“Saw something!” you reply.

There’s a flashlight hanging by a hook next to the door. You grab it as you burst out into the chilly air, tensed for a fight. A quick sweep of the front yard and immediate tree line reveals nothing. Steps soft and careful, you approach the side of the house, expertly gripping your knife.

“On your six,” Soap breathes behind you.

“Copy.”

You round the corner, eyes scanning the trees, the brush. There’s no movement, no suspiciously rustling branches. You tilt your head, listening for anything past the normal sounds of the night. But there isn’t even an unusual silence in the dark world around you.

“Just a dream, then,” you sigh.

It wouldn’t be the first time. Unusual, though. Your nightmare-induced hallucinations usually conjure guns in your face or teammates bleeding out on the floor. Not strange figures at the windows. Still, you can hear the explanation of your shrink trying to soothe you. Middle of the night after drinking, in a new and atmospheric environment. Plus, there’s been all that fuss on the news about a serial killer; nowhere near you and Soap, mind, but still. Subconscious or some shite.

“Let’s do a sweep anyway,” Soap says.

Your chest warms. “Alright.”

Naturally, there’s nothing. Soap only gives you a one-armed hug as you return to the cabin. One final check of the interior – since you did leave the door open when you rushed out – and then the two of you turn in for bed.

*

The next day starts lazy and slow. A strange reprieve from your body’s military-trained urge to wake early. It’s nice, though, to snuggle beneath the covers with Soap’s soft snores only a few meters away. You play pre-downloaded games on your phone while you wait for him to wake, enjoying the lie in.

Breakfast is enjoyed on the little porch out front; you bundled up in a woolen throw while you sip coffee. It’s shaping up to be an unusually sunny day, and you agree to a longer hike around the loch before lunch. When you return, you settle on the porch again to read while Soap chops wood.

Which, well.

You don’t mind a bit of entertainment between pages… or paragraphs… or…

Soap hasn’t neglected his physique at all since the discharge. All corded muscles, broad shoulders, and tapered waist. Watching the bunch and release of his arms has always been a guilty pleasure of yours, and so blessedly indulged during training sessions in the 141.

You try not to sigh and drool over it (him) like a repressed Victorian.

“Ach, fer fucks…”

You snap to attention, book set aside. “Is your arm acting up?”

He’s set the hatchet down, grabbing at his elbow with a pinched expression.

“Aye,” he grumbles.

You trot to his side, pleased that he still instantly submits to your care. He lets you manipulate his arm, prod along the nerve pathways and bunched muscles that are spasming in pain. His groan has no business being that low or rough or close to your ear. But you ignore it like you always have, focus on getting him right. Barely even register when he sets his jaw on top of your head.

A few minutes pass in silence while you try to massage away the worst of the flare up. When he finally sighs, slumping into you a little, you gently squeeze his forearm.

“Bampot,” you huff.

“Aye, I ken,” he mumbles.  “’S why I have you.”

You click your tongue. “Someone’s gotta keep you alive. Next time let me help.”

“Not on yer life.”

You pinch his side, grinning wickedly when he yelps and jerks away. Little shit. Your favorite little shit, damn him.

He allows you to help carry the firewood to the rack next to the tiny shed. It’s round back of the cabin, covered by an old blue tarp. Soap is in the lead and sees it first.

“Oh, well isn’t that pure dead brilliant,” he huffs.

“Hm?”

You peak around him and blink at the rust-colored splatters decorating the side of the shed. There’s a dark patch in the scraggly grass as well and drag marks into the trees. Clearly, some prey fell victim to the circle of life here. Recently, too, from the color of the blood.

“What do you think it was?” you ask. “There aren’t wolves here.”

“Nah, but coulda been a fox.”

You scrunch up your nose. “This close to us? Usually foxes steer clear of humans.��

“Feral dog, then, maybe.”

Maybe.

It’s a lot of blood for anything a dog or fox would risk taking down, though. Even a feral one.

“C’mon, let’s get inside. Need a coupla pills ‘fore mah arm starts taking the piss again.”

You help him stack the firewood and then follow him back to the cabin. And if you linger on the blood, your random dream, and the lingering sensation of eyes on you… well, nothing new for you.

*

It pours all of the next day. Soap says it’s good timing, that he won’t have to wash the shed himself. Both of your injuries are acting up, though, and you spend the day trying to find different positions to appease the ache in your hip. At one point, he has to help you to the shower, your leg feeling too weak to support your weight. It’s frustrating, but you’ve had nearly a year to learn to cope.

Soap lifts your spirits, though, like always. Convinces you to play Scrabble and keeps insisting that he’s just using Scottish words. It ends the way it usually does – you and him wrestling like children, trying to trap the other to determine the winner. You only just manage to get a hold of him, though he puts up a good fight. He eventually admits that “daylich” isn’t actually a word and he didn’t deserve the triple word score.

Then he breaks out a pack of biscuits as a peace offering and all is forgiven. The two of you nibble on those while watching a movie on your laptop and then shuffle off to bed.

Long after Soap has fallen asleep, you’re awake. The memory of his body against yours always leaves you feeling branded. Like the heat of him burns right through your clothes. It’s been… probably too long since you last got off. Way too long since someone else got you off. And yeah, you had a couple of shameful secret wanks around teammates back in the day, but things are different now. You’re not high on adrenaline in the military anymore. No excuse for shoving a hand down your pants.

Still, your thoughts spiral as you finally start to doze. Rough hands on your hips, your thighs, your throat. Gentle but teasing at the true strength they possess. A hot tongue along your cheek, treating you like something to savor… or to devour. A shadow looming over you, dwarfing you. Phantom sensations that you crave as much as you shy away, wanting it but knowing you shouldn’t.

The throbbing between your thighs rouses you. Sleep-addled, you give in. You’d be embarrassed of how wet you are if anyone else were to know. And of the soft, needy noise you make when your brush your fingertips between your thighs. But Soap is still snoring steadily, and the pounding of the ongoing rain makes you brave.

You stroke slowly and gently over the bundle of nerves at first, mimicking those dreamt touches. It’s almost as maddening even when it’s your own hand. Sleep is half-dragging at you, though, and you speed up, drawing tight little circles at the top, teasing lower to stoke the heat burning in your gut. Your breathing picks up, little breaths past an open mouth.

It’s really not going to take much. Not with how long it’s been, how much you want it, vague thoughts of your darkest fantasies flickering through your hazy mind. You tilt your hips down, get the pressure of your heel against your empty, aching hole. You rock a couple times, high-pitched noises caught at the top of your throat.

You come imagining a big hand around your neck choking off those sounds. Have to slap your free hand over your mouth as you shake and writhe through it. Drag your nails up your bare thigh just to balance out the unbearable pleasure. And then you go limp against the pillows, panting and shuddering through aftershocks.

When you extract your hand from beneath the blankets, you blink at the wetness coating your fingertips for a moment. If someone asked, the excuse you’d give is not touching anything with your wet hand. But truthfully, you’re just indulging in impulsive hedonism as you suck your own fingers.

“Fuck,” you whisper to the shadows.

Then you climb out of bed for a proper cleanup, ready to finally fall asleep and definitely not think about how much quicker you came knowing that Soap was right there the entire time.

*

It’s raining on and off the next day. You and Soap take a little walk during one of the dry patches, though it’s cut short with how sore your hip still is. Soap collects more firewood from the shed, keeps the flames well fed while you putter about. Nap for an hour, start rereading one of your favorite books, watch a scary movie with him, make American flapjacks just for the sake of it.

Even though you should be feeling stir crazy, Soap has always made for good company. The day passes pleasantly into an early night, the sun standing little chance against the thick cloud cover.

You and Soap are settling in with scotch when frantic knocking interrupts the peaceful quiet.

“Help!” a ragged voice screams. “Someone please help me!”

You hardly exchange glances before the two of you are up. Soap goes for the door, gun in hand. You scramble for the ever-present medical kit that earned your call-sign, left out on the counter.

Soap yanks the door open; a man tumbles in. Middle aged, lanky build, bleeding from a long cut on his forehead. His ankle is twisted at a damning angle. You scan him for obvious weapons, but his t-shirt and muddy boxers reveal nothing but bruising and scraped skin. His hands are empty as they scrabble at the floor, trying to drag himself inside. Soap slams the door closed and locks it.

“Please!” the man cries again. “You have to help me!”

You drop to your knees beside him, already popping your kit open.

“We’re going to help you, sir,” you say evenly, “but you need to calm down.”

“You don’t understand,” the man gasps as you help him sit up. “H-He… he’s out there.”

“Who?” Soap asks, grip shifting on the gun.

“S-some psycho,” the man answers. You work easily past his shaking, getting a look at his swelling ankle. Definitely broken… with force. “In a mask.”

You blink, shoot Soap a look. Have the two of you fallen into some weird horror movie by accident?

“What did he do?” Soap asks.

“H-he attacked us with a big bloody knife.”

“Who’s ‘us’?” you ask. “Who else was with you?”

“The lads – my friends – my brother. Oh, god…” He pales further. You brace him, eyeing the packaged shock blanket peeking from your kit. “Danny is dead. There was so much blood.”

“How many?” Soap asks, voice hard. “How many of you are still alive?”

“I-I don’t know. I barely got-got away. Oh, god—”

He dissolves into tears and whimpers. You rip open the blanket and drape it around the man, then scoot down to his ruined ankle. Over his head, you frown at Soap. Something is missing here. This man was with at least three other people, but one man attacked them? There’s something to be said for shock and surprise and fear, but still…

“Soap?”

“Gonnae see if I can find survivors,” he says. “I’ll send ‘em your way if I find any. You stay here, take care of this ‘un.”

“That’s stupid,” you argue. “You can’t go by yourself!”

“No different than recon, aye? Not gonnae engage, but we cannae leave anyone bleedin’ out there.”

Your mouth twists. No, no you can’t leave civilians potentially wounded with a killer out for blood. Discharged or not (war criminals or not… and you both are, technically) you’re both too dutybound for that.

“RV here in ten and I’ll have the car ready for exfil.”

“Affirmative.”

He crosses to you, knocks your foreheads together – a pre-mission gesture you never thought you’d receive again. You close your eyes for a second, squeeze the back of his neck. Then send him off with a firm nod.

You lock the door after him, then return to the man.

“Are you two military or something?” he asks.

“We were,” you answer, “medical discharge.”

“Oh brilliant! You’re telling me that my only hope is a couple cripples?!”

You level him a flat, unimpressed look. “I’m a medic with more kills than you’ve got chest hairs, understand? Shut up and brace. I need to wrap your ankle.”

He whimpers and whines and curses while you set and compress it. Nothing you haven’t heard before, vehement as it may be. Ungrateful, though, you think vaguely. Save a guy’s life and he’s calling you all sorts of derogatory names while you try to salvage his ability to walk.

“You done?” you ask, interrupting his latest stream of expletives. “I need to hear if someone is coming.”

That only shuts him up for a moment before he’s piping up again. “Do you have a weapon?”

You tug your pant leg up to show the knife strapped to your calf.

“Do you even know how to use that?!”

“Look, I know this is a lot for you, so maybe you should stop talking for a while.”

His face twists, brain turning to anger as he tries to cope with his own fear and new trauma. You don’t pay him any heed, wiping off his head and closing the still-weeping cut with butterflies. All you can hear over his wheezing is the rain outside. No footsteps or screams or, most importantly, gunshots.

With the worst two of the man’s wounds seen to, you take stock. You’re not dressed for any sort of confrontation in lounge pants and socks.

“Here. Start treating your legs and arms,” you say, pressing gauze and wound wash into the man’s hands.

“Where are you going?!” he protests.

“Need to prep to leave,” you explain. “Shout if you hear anything.”

He doesn’t look thrilled, but you’re already up and hurrying to the bedroom. You climb into a thick pair of cargos – relieved that your fashion sense hasn’t improved since the army – and a thermal shirt. Your pistol is waiting in the side pocket of your duffel, loaded and holstered. The weight of it is comforting against your thigh; you’ve missed it.

You grab the bags and carry them back to the door, check your watch. It’s only been four minutes. If Soap isn’t back in another six, you’re going out to get him yourself, injured civilian be damned. Everything you’ve gone through together; you’re not going to lose your best friend to some overdramatic wanker with a knife.

“What are you doing now?!” the man asks.

You give him another once over. He’s done a decent job prioritizing the worst scrapes and cuts, they look clean enough. Most importantly, he seems less faint than when you left. Giving him something to focus on must have helped.

“Checking the car. We’re leaving as soon as Soap gets back,” you answer.

“A-at least give me something to protect myself with!”

You try not to sigh in annoyance. What good would he even be, unable to walk and shaky on adrenaline? Still, you take pity and tug the knife from your boot, offer it to him handle first.

“Not the gun?” he complains.

“No.”

You jog out to the car, gun in one hand and duffels in the other. It’s raining again, getting harder by the moment. There’s a steady, sharp pain radiating throughout your leg, threatening to knock it out from under you. You grit your teeth as you toss the bags in the backseat and move to the ignition.

And the car doesn’t start.

“Shit.”

You don’t waste time trying it again. It should be in perfect condition; it must have been tampered with.

When you approach the house again, you hear shouting from inside. You pick up the pace, nearly skid across the wooden floor when you get there. The man is huddling up by the couch, white knuckling the knife.

“I-I heard something!”

“Where?” you demand, scanning the immediate area. Thank fuck that Soap’s seanair believed in minimalism.

“In the back.”

You frown. “The only way in is through windows back there, and those are locked.”

Right?

“I know what I heard!”

“Stay here, then.”

You click the safety off and pad the short hallway to the bedroom. Don’t bother announcing yourself, or any idiotic “who’s there”. You kick the unlatched door open and sweep through the room just like you would for a raid. The tiny lamp on the nightstand is still on, illuminating the sparse space.

You check under the first bed, then sidestep and tilt your head to check the other. Nothing.

“There isn’t—”

The window is open. The window is fucking open. How?!

You spin on your heel, just in time to see a hauntingly familiar mask bent over the gurgling body of the man. There’s no hesitation as you raise the gun and fire twice, but the killer has already rolled out of the way. Well fuck that.

You rush from the bedroom, fire another two into the couch as you round the corner. He’s a fast fucker, waiting by the wall adjacent to the hall as you exit. And he’s fucking big. Slams into your side – your bad side – like a tank. It fucks your balance, and you go down with a snarled curse, winded as all his weight lands on your much smaller frame.

On training and instinct, you slam your elbow back. There’s a crunch, a grunt of pain. But damn him, he doesn’t let up. A big hand finds yours on the gun. You yelp as he squeezes hard enough to feel the bones bend. The gun fires – bang, bang, bang. His head is right by yours, the hard edge of his mask pressing into your temple, panting in your ear.

You lash out with your other arm, though your aim is off. Instead of hitting his throat, you get his jaw instead. You plant your boot on the floor and push, trying to get out from under him. Instead, he rolls with your back against his chest. The gun clatters as he snakes a thick arm around your throat. You grab at his forearm, but you know you have no hope of matching him in strength.

You scrabble for the knife in your boot, but it’s gone.

Fuck, you gave it to—

The cabin ceiling is getting spotty.

Your fingers brush the killer’s leg, find a familiar shape tucked at the side of his boot. You snatch up the knife and drive it into his calf. He growls, but the arm on your throat blessedly disappears. You suck air, blinking past dark edges. Twist onto your front and blindly fumble for your gun.

Manage two shots right to his chest. He falls limp. You wait a beat, two. He doesn’t move again.

You click the safety on and holster the gun. And then, out of morbid curiosity, crawl closer to the body.

“Holy hell,” you breathe as you get a good look at the mask.

He’s wearing a skull over a black balaclava. Not just a prop either you realize when you tap at it. It’s real. Human. Thin cracks spiderweb along the front orbital bone, the corner of the eye socket – from where you elbowed him, you think. Beyond them, his eyes are closed and still, the skin painted black.

“Big scary fucker,” you murmur. And if you’re a bit admiring… well, it between you and a dead body. A couple dead bodies. Can’t forget about the other guy. “That was almost fun.”

“Kit!”

You jolt, barely able to hear Soap’s voice over the pounding rain, but relieved to hear it. A hiss escapes between your teeth as you get to your feet, hip protesting. You have to grab at the couch to catch your balance. Then brace yourself and walk carefully towards the door.

Your fingers are just centimeters from the doorknob when an arm wraps around your neck again. You flail, try to kick off the door, but it hardly even makes him stumble. Then there’s a sharp pinch in your arm, sibilant shushing by your ear, and the world goes dark.

*

The world comes to you in bits and pieces.

Something soft under you. A slight ache in your hip. Fabric around your bare legs. Voices? You think you recognize the rumble of Soap’s brogue, but not whoever he’s speaking to.

Soft golden light creeps past your fluttering eyelashes. Soap is sitting across the room on… a big floor cushion? You blink a couple times, adjusting your slightly blurred vision. But yep, that’s him, sitting on a gigantic pillow. And… is that his throat mic?

“Mm… John?” you call, rubbing at your eyes.

“Aye, Kit. Nice ‘n slow now. We’re alright.”

You hum and push yourself up, limbs heavy. Once you’re sitting, Soap speaks again. Gentle and calm.

“You remember what happened?”

You pause, frown. It comes to you in a slow trickle. The trip, the forest, the cabin… and then it floods back. The injured man at the door, the killer, the struggle. The ambush as you were going to meet Soap at the door.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“Aye.”

You give him another once over. That’s not a throat mic; it’s a collar. A thick black leather thing, complete with a silver chain that trails off somewhere behind him. You stare for a second, bewildered.

“Don’t be jealous. You match.”

Your head whips around to the hulking figure in a doorway to your right. He’s just as imposing as you remember, tall and fucking built, dressed in all black and mask still on. The soft lighting casts spooky shadows across the eye sockets.

The words process a moment later and your hand darts up to your neck. Sure enough, there’s a wide leather band around your neck. You’ll give it this, though – you didn’t even notice it until he said something. Not too tight, comfortable even. Clearly made with long-term wear against skin in mind. There’s a chain attached to yours too and you follow it to an anchor in the wall.

“If it’s any consolation, ye look right bonnie,” Soap calls.

You snort. “’Course I do.”

The killer shrugs off the wall. You watch as he saunters closer in long, heavy strides. No point in scrambling away or trying to run – you’d have a limited radius of escape if he didn’t grab you first. Besides, you’re not about to cower to some spooky bastard with a couple dirty tricks up his sleeve.

He crouches down well within your reach, clearly not concerned about you lashing out. You tilt your head in defiance, meeting his eyes for a moment before he flicks his gaze down. He reaches out, gloved fingers catching your chin. Not hard, but firm enough that there’s no arguing when he tilts your chin up.

Fabric brushes the sensitive skin of your neck, above and below the collar.

“Pretty kitty,” he purrs. “Glad I didn’t bruise this lovely neck.”

Two fingers press against one side a little harder, edging beneath the leather. You recognize the gesture as you swallow. He’s checking your pulse. You’re proud that it’s still steady and unhurried.

“Not scared?” He doesn’t say it like it’s a question.

You arch your eyebrows. “Should I be?”

His eyes flicker. “Not if you behave.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, resisting a sneer. Past his shoulder, Soap is watching with a smirk. Unharmed, you note again. He’s fine. You’re fine, despite slight soreness from the brief struggle. If there was something to be concerned about (apart from the obvious) he would have let you know right off the bat. So, you take a calculated risk.

“Yeah? And what do you consider behaving?” you ask.

The corners of the killer’s eyes crinkle. You knew enough masked men back in the military to recognize a hidden smile. He’s amused by your snarky question. Another good sign.

“Good pets obey their masters.”

You blink, breath leaving you in a soft rush. It… makes sense. Just not the answer you expected. Stupid, maybe, given the collars, leashes, and dog beds. You’ll have to blame the lingering drugs.

“There are so many shelters, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you blurt, bewildered.

The man snorts, hooks a finger under your collar and gives an almost playful tug. An entirely instinctive part of you catches its breath. You’re glad he’s not measuring your pulse anymore.

“Those can’t talk back,” he answers simply, shrugging.

Soap barks a laugh. “Well, you’ll get what you asked for with us then.”

You grin crookedly, showing all your teeth. “And then some,” you agree, reaching up to tug the hand from your collar.

He jerks harder this time, unbalancing you towards him. You catch yourself on both hands, feel a blaze of heat across your nose and glare up at him through your lashes.

“No touching, kitten,” he says. “You’ll have to earn that.”

You try not to roll your eyes, not quite willing to push your luck too far yet. But it’s a near thing.

“Sure, let me get right on that,” you scoff dryly anyway.

He clicks his tongue, but no further retribution comes save for one last warning tug. Then he’s standing, towering over you again.

“I need a shower. You two settle in.”

And he just walks off. Like he didn’t just take two former SAS operatives as human pets. You wait until you hear distant water before turning to Soap.

“What happened?”

“Ambushed me,” he grumbles, sitting back against the wall. “Snuck up as I was trying to get you untied. Bastard is trained.”

Soap’s pouting, even though there’s an entire police case of victims who weren’t as lucky as him.

“Trained like us, you mean?”

“Aye.” Soap pauses, looking at the floor pensively, brows furrowing. “Means he had every reason and way to hurt us.”

You nod. “He had me in a hold and his knife hand free. Could have done anything with it. Let me stab him instead.”

Soap hums. “And, well, there’s a basement. Could have brought us there too, I reckon.”

He glances at the doorway the killer was lingering in when you woke. You get what he’s saying – or not saying, as it were. The two of you are hale and whole only because the killer decided to make it so. Because, as all evidence seems to suggest, he wants pets.

“You figure he means it? About… us?” you wonder.

Soap shrugs. “He’s no reason ta lie.”

That’s what you’re worried about.

“News says he’s a sadist,” you point out. “His idea of a pet might be...”

“Aye, but then why do all this?” He gestures to the big soft beds, which you know must have been a bit expensive for their size and comfortability, and the well-made leather collars. You’ve even got a blanket at your feet for the cool air. “Nae, I think even sadists miss a bit ‘o companionship now n’ then.”

You hum. Makes sense, in the part of you that’s seen the worst humanity has to offer and risen up to greet it. You’ve seen plenty of shit, plenty of people, and the things they’re capable of. But even “monsters” go home to family, to hobbies, to entirely wholesome things that they enjoy just because.

That’s the hard part about war. Seeing the most depraved and evil examples of humanity and reconciling that they have qualities one can recognize in themselves.

“The plan, then?”

“Say we go along with it for now,” Soap says, shrugging. “Not like we could get free as we are anyway.”

You hum in agreement. The chain is clipped to the wall anchor by a thick padlock, and feeling at the collar earlier, you know it’s the same on the other side. The collar itself is too high-quality to come apart without something sharp. So you’re stuck. Even if you did will a lockpick into existence, you’ve no intel on the rest of the house or even where you’d go from the house.

“But listen, Kit, I’m no’ gonnae let anything happen to you. If this gets violent, I’ll tear the walls apart with my hands if I hafta.”

You smile, wish suddenly and fiercely that you could hug him. He looks like he could use it; god knows you could.

“I know, John,” you soothe. “I will too.”

He nods, jaw twitching, then sighs and sits back again. The two of you sit in silence for a few moments, digesting the plan. You take an actual look at the room you’re in – a den, it seems like. A fireplace in one corner, a decent sized couch to your left. Beyond it, you can see a clean and modern kitchen. There’s a coffee table, end tables, lamps, a goddamn rug. It’s downright cozy; like something out of a magazine.

“Nice voice, though, aye?” Soap chirps suddenly, snapping your gaze back to him.

“Soap.”

“Och, don’t ‘Soap’ me,” he grumbles. “You look me in the eye and tell me tha’s no’ a voice made fer sex.”

And damn him, you can’t.

“Can’t say I was thinking about his voice when he was waving a big knife at me.”

“He can wave his big knife at—”

“I’m gonna kill you myself—” You snarl, balling up your blanket and chucking at his stupid, wiggling eyebrows.

“Oi, you two,” aforementioned sexy voice chastises from the hallway.

You wrinkle your nose as Soap grins at you, a shadow in the corner of your vision as the killer comes into the room again. He brings a cloud of clean water and bergamot. He smells good.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you hiss, dismayed.

“Problem?” the killer asks.

He’s got the mask on again (or still? You hope he doesn’t shower with it on, that’s unsanitary) but you can hear him arching an eyebrow. Stubbornly, you turn away to glare at Soap some more. It’s obvious he realizes what you’re referring to from the way he smothers a snicker, though.

Shithead.

You don’t get away with it for long before a hand is pulling your jaw up. Rough only because you resist for the briefest fraction. Once he’s got your face where he wants it, though, your captor’s grip isn’t painfully tight.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer, kitten. Understood?”

Your hand twitches to grab at the hold but remember what he said about touching without permission. Stubborn as you may be, you’re not actively trying to incite violence against you or Soap. The plan is to go along with… whatever this is. So you swallow a bit of your pride.

“Understood.”

He hums like that’s not quite the answer he wanted, but it’s acceptable for now.

“Now, is there a problem?” he asks again.

“Apart from the kidnapping?” you snip. “Everything is right as rain.”

He snorts, smooths his thumb over your chin, slow and dangerous. You go still, refuse to falter but careful not to provoke further.

“You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?” he muses almost to himself.

“Must have expected it,” you reason honestly, “know you watched us for a few days.”

He tilts his head, eyes eerily unblinking within the unholy shadows of the skull. “Longer’n that, pretty thing.”

You open your mouth but don’t know what to say. Longer than the days at the cabin? How long? And how did you and Soap not notice?

Your spiraling thoughts are interrupted by fabric gliding over your bottom lip. His thumb threatening to slip past. You snap your jaw closed, nearly catch the tip of his finger in your teeth. He chuckles and finally releases you, making for the nearby couch.

He settles in with sigh and flicks on the TV. There on the screen is a flashing headline:

Another Ghost Victim Found.

Next

Masterlist

[damnfandomproblems]

In response to Fandom Problem #6253:

"Not when somebody says something negative about a problematic piece of media you like"

Purity culture is, in fact, also about this. Fear over people's moral "purity" of thought leads to a severe restriction of freedom of speech and castigation of people that break those boundaries. It's the reason Henry Miller and D.H. Lawrence were banned for decades. It's the reason Republicans are trying to get the most innocuous boy love Mangas banned from schools and purging queer books from school libraries.

It's the reason fundamental Christians burned HP books in the late 90s and early 00s, and eschew even Disney movies for mention of magic today. It's the reason for the Satanic Panic and the idiotic fear around D&D and heavy metal music causing Devil worship and video games causing violence, all of which has been long since disproved. It's the reason there were groups of panicked mothers nation wide protesting the band KISS and why Fox News lost their minds over 2 seconds of blue alien side boob in Mass Effect.

It's the reason that every single public fanfiction archive before Ao3 got purged of anything queer whether it was adult content or just two teens confessing their feelings. The reason even heterosexual erotica, the most popular published genre, got banned or purged. It's the reason for the Tumblr and DeviantArt porn and erotica art ban. It's the reason Ao3 has a team of lawyers and has faced multiple online attacks over the last few years.

The same reason people in less tolerant countries are legitimately terrified of their fiction preferences being found out. It's the same bloody reason Salman Rushdie has a 3 million pound price on his head and lost an eye only 2 years ago to an assassination attempt.

Noticing a pattern of extremism that has its roots in religious "purity" culture managing to trickle into even the most insular of fandom communities isn't a misuse of the term purity culture. It's a complete understanding of its give an inch, and it'll take a mile mentality. Most "proshippers" if not all, are simply advocates for freedom in expression in fiction, usually because its a reflection of the health of a community and a nation's/culture's embrace of the principles of freedom of speech. When we notice an uptick in witch hunts over, of all things, fiction of more fiction, we aren't fear mongering to call it out, we're acting as canaries in a coal mine against something that we've seen invade our spaces over and over and over again and are trying to stop it.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

[jnledford]

Instagram post linked here

Upcoming book, “Lykos”, by new independent author J. N. Ledford, is a supernatural contemporary romance novel with a twist.

Estimated publication in late 2025 or early 2026!

More content to be posted as the date arrives.

--- ☆ ---

“Khalid Hawkins expects a few things when he moves to Haywood County, NC, to take over the cabin he inherited from his late grandfather – old pipes, cleaning up a yard, and maybe some renovations if he can figure them out himself. What comes as a surprise however is when the first storm hits and he hears a crash in the shed outside, only to find a werewolf slumped over in a heap with an arrow gouged into its body.

Fae Holloway expects a few things when she opens her eyes, like a white light to walk into since she just got shot with a silver tipped arrow. Instead, she gets to wake up to a burning pain in her chest, more wolfsbane than she’s ever seen, and bones that feel like they’re ready to dissolve. At least she is still alive, and still in her wolf form, which is likely the only reason she survived to begin with. All her realizations topped off by the wide-eyed stare of the young man poking his head around the corner of the splintered shed door.

The pair are in for more than they realize as they begin to grow closer, unaware that the very people who had driven the werewolf into Khalid’s life weren’t ready to give up on the hunt just yet.”

---------------------------

[Background image of Devil’s Courthouse in the Blue Ridge Parkway by @ajledford_com (instagram) used with permission]

[yaut-jaknowit]

The Hunt

Pairing: Gawtin (Female Yautja) x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Primal play, gawtin hunts you down, hunting, teasing, light edging, fingering, impact play, smacking, rough sex, lots dirty talk, use of 'girl', praise kink, multiple orgasms, mind numbing orgasms.

Word Count: 5880 (11 pages on word... damn. I'm down for this Yautja)

Summary: As you cooked dinner for Gawtin and Qui-oky, the former arrives home. But you notice something different about her. She's... seems to be more in her predatory state. Her eyes narrowed on you. Only on you. She towers over you, crowding you into the counter as you cooked, holding her child. She leans down and whispers, "Run."

Author Note: I'm seriously down for Gawtin. Like badly. She could rip off my head and I would thank her. Hope you guys love her just as much as do.

Ao3

Masterlist

Eyes. Sharp, deadly eyes followed every step that you made around the kitchen. Without hesitation, you knew who it was. No one else could stare at you like that. You trembled but stayed focus on the task on hand. It was your turn to feed the family tonight. Best of all, it was something you had personally gone out and hunted yourself. All by yourself.

Pride filled your stomach as you sprinkled some spices Gawtin got from the market lately. They were like nothing you’ve ever smelled before. Unlike the ones you’ve seen on earth, these had blues, purples, and even pinks in the mixture. Whatever it was, the name unreadable, was delicious on any meat you put it on. You were excited for tonight’s dinner.

Despite your previous experience with cooking for Gawtin, times that shall not be remembered, you had hoped this would turn out better. It had to be. This was all for her, even though her kind doesn’t need to eat meat cooked. In a way, you were gifting something to her. Due to the fact you weren’t the greatest at hunting. You wield pencils, not machetes.

Besides all that, Gawtin still cares for you. She lets you be at her side with her child. She lets you care for him like your own. Qui seems to love you just the same, ooman or Yautja.

Speaking of the devil…

Qui’s hands slapped against the wooden floor of the kitchen. The child marched his way through the area as if he owned it. A mission playing inside of his mind, that you believed was happening inside of there. You raised a brow down at him once he stopped at your feet. Qui babbled in Yautja as he peered at you, stubby mandibles twitching as he talked. Then, with a short arm, he reached out and grabbed at your leg.

Similar to a cat, his nails were deadly sharp. The muscles along your calf tensed but you didn’t jerk away as they sunk into the flesh. You bit at your lower lip, throating closing up to prevent any sounds. With his painful hold on you, Qui-oky stood up on unsteady legs.

Why out of everything else in the kitchen had he had to use you?! With a shake of your head, you bent over and scooped the wobbling child off of the ground. Qui squeaked at the sudden movement but chirped happily since he was face to face with you. You lightly tapped the tip of his inner mouth with a finger. “Hey, kiddo. Wanna help me cook something for your mama?” you teased him and held him to be resting on your hip. One of your arms had him propped up underneath his butt. A spot he was content to sit in.

He didn’t understand a word on what you were say and stared blankly. “Yeah, I know. I’m not yet there, Qui. I got a few more months before I’m willing to try out in public. Before then, I’m gonna stick with what I know best.” Before almost forgetting the meat on the firepit, you flipped it over and stirred a pot of brew. “Maybe in the process you’ll learn some English early. Don’t tell your mom though.”

“She wants me to learn more Yautja and I’m truly trying… I just don’t have the mouth for it. Ya know?” The poor child looked at you with questions rolling inside of his small head. You sighed with a shake of your head and refocused on the pots and pans in front of you. “You don’t. It’s okay. One day though. We’ll both further our learning about the other. For right now-“

The front door hissed as it opened. There, in the doorway, appeared Gawtin in all of her glory. Without missing a beat, you twisted your torso to look at her with a hand still holding a wooden spoon. “Oh, hey, love! Back so soon? I haven’t finished cooking yet,” you called out to her as she strode into the dwelling. Then, you turned back to the food in front of you.

From what your ears caught, she made her way over to you in the kitchen. Qui chirped at the sight of his mother and babbled at her. A hard, warm, thick body molded into your backside. A protective arm slid between you and the metal stove as you were pulled slightly back. Purring vibrated down your spine to each limb attached.

You smiled softly at the gesture. The spoon was carefully set down to the side. With your free hand, you patted at the limb around your waist. “Well, hello to you too.” Her purred thickened. Gawtin leaned down to snuggled her mandibles into the crook of your neck. Sweet and comforting.

Until you felt a familiar wet muscle slither out and lick at the skin there. You tensed up, eyes widening at the realization of what she was doing. The child on your arm felt heavier. “Gaw-Gawtin…” you spoke her name lowly, partly in warning of what she was starting. But she knew. She knew what she was doing. Let alone to you.

She let loose a deep snarl, the hold she had on you tightening and crushing you to her. “I am not necessarily hungry for food right now,” her voice low and grumbly. You were suddenly hit with an arousing need for her. This was about something you had discussed with her earlier in the week. You couldn’t believe she was doing that now. Right now. With Qui.

Though Gawtin couldn’t see you, a brow was raised silently at her. In your grasp, Qui-oky chirped and twisted his small body to face his mother. Said older Yautja returned the same noise and tugged him away from you. All the heat he easily produced was stolen away with him. He began to babble at her while using his arms to help him. You stayed though, unable to move with her there.

Gawtin kept her mandibles pressed into your soft, fragile flesh. They twitched, sharp ends dragging across your skin. “Run.” Then, the Yautja pulled away from you.

Just like the human you were, you stood frozen in your spot, unable to move. Gawtin released a thundering growl. Goosebumps ran down the lengths of your arms, towards your fingertips. You gasped before scuttling away from her. A glance was thrown back at her as you escaped through the front door.

The look of a predator was all you saw.

Sweltering heat bared down on your feeble body. Sweat rolled over your skin in thick rivers. Your shirt stuck to your body uncomfortably. Out of all the time you’ve resided on this planet, this had to be the hardest you’ve ever run before for this long. It was bad. To the point your lungs ached for a break. But this was different. You wanted to give Gawtin a small challenge in finding you.

It would be impossible to hide or run from her. It was inevitable she would find you in the end. All you could do was put as much distance between you and a predator breed for this exact thing. That made a cold trickle down your spine. In a good way. This was the best thing to happen to you in your life. You couldn’t want anything different or to change.

To add to the challenge, you took a note from things you’ve read and watched before. Add a little common sense in there, you used a creek to travel north, with the wind. All you could hope the direction of the wind wouldn’t change too drastically and give up your position. Who knows. This planet was beyond weird when it came to these things.

Despite being in a jungle designed to kill anything and everything edible, you didn’t feel in danger. Instead, in the back of your mind, you knew there was something watching you. Something that would always keep you safe. Even if that same thing was hunting you at this exact moment.

When your lungs refused to bare the unneeded stress, you slowed to a simple walk. The sweat that coated your skin was brushed with a breeze that helped cool yourself down. It almost felt like being splashed with creek water on a hot day. One of the best feelings out there.

This far out and without paying attention, it was completely up to Gawtin to return you to the safety of her dwelling. This wasn’t pathing you’ve taken before. To sum it up: you were lost.

With the trust that filled your very being, you knew this wasn’t a bad thing. You were safe and sound, even surrounded by creatures more than happy to swallow you whole.

As the sun was close to hiding behind the horizon the tall, thick jungle trees blocked out, you felt the need to stop. Not for water or even a bit from a nearby safe berry bush. No. Eyes. Familiar but not, watched you. Heavy and piercing. You cursed underneath your breath, gaze snapping all over the place. An attempt to find where she was. Where the predator was hunting you from the shadows of her home planet. This was her hunting grounds.

You swallowed the thick lump stuck in your throat, unable to find the creature hiding. Gawtin could be anywhere within the three hundred-sixty degrees around you. Anywhere. And by the time you find, it would be far too late. You bit at your bottom lip, thighs squeezing together.

The back of your hand swiped at the pooling sweat at your forehead. Then, you continued your pathing onward. Wherever these lands would take before someone else did.

“Gawtin?” you spoke up, voice quivering, not with fear. No, with anticipation of what’s to come.

The jungle around you was still, as if the trees and foliage themselves were holding your breath as well. Nothing dared to even tremble, let alone move a single inch. Your breath was caught in your throat as you stood as a statue.

Running or escape were no longer options. They’ve long been thrown out the moment you had past the threshold of her dwelling.

A small part of your brain told you speak, say something. Maybe distract her so you could have more time to think. “Gawtin? Come on, love. Let’s talk about this?” you tried to reason with the creature hunting you down. Off to your left, there was a short snort. One you knew far too well to think of anything else. Your head snapped in the origin’s direction. Yet, it was completely hopeless. Her scales kept her well-hidden.

Now, to your right, there was a deafening growl that caused goosebumps to expand across your skin. Your head whipped around so fast you believed you had received whiplash. That was the least of your worries currently. But, there was no sign of her. You cursed lowly underneath your breath.

Sounds of tsking sounded above the ground in front of you. You gasped and jumped back at the sudden different location. “Babe?” you questioned as if you didn’t already know. So stupid. If you were in a different situation, you would’ve smacked yourself in the face.

Those eyes never left you. They were glued to your form worse than the damn sap that these trees produce.

“Run.” You jumped once more at the voice now behind you. Without taking more second to fool around, your feet start to pound against the forest’s floor. Leaves and other foliage crunched underneath each step away from the creature hunting you.

Despite your lungs and legs burning at the second run of the afternoon, you push past and kept moving along. Trees loomed over you, as if crowding to see when she’ll capture you in those deadly claws of hers. Shit. This was more than getting your blood pumping. It had your whole body feeling alive with buzzing energy.

Heavy weight shoved into you yet mindful. An arm snagged around your waist as you went down with the sudden move. You choked on a scream, arms out to catch your fall. Your body was pushed into the ground, face down as the same weight bared down on you. Nothing could help you escape. That didn’t stop you squirming and wiggling worse than slimy worm.

One of your arms was able to reach out and claw uselessly at the ground. Nothing but dirt built underneath your nails, unable to gain anything of purchase.

Then, a massive paw grasped around your petite wrist and pinned it down as well. Everything around you went completely still. You shuddered, goosebumps rising once more. Thick, redden tipped tresses swung into view. They tickled the expanse of your back, making you gasp at the feeling before shivering again. “Fuck,” you bit out and stopped moving.

It was pointless now. The predator has caught her prey and wasn’t going to let it go now.

Warm, humid breath fanned over your exposed neck. Keratin on keratin clicked against each right behind your ear. A growl rumbled around your fragile skin. Claws bit into you, almost drawing trickles of blood. “Gawtin,” you whined and tried to shift mindlessly underneath her.

Her free hand found its way to your throat and tightened its hold. You gulped, throat bobbing. “Keep saying my name. It is not going to be of help.” Your only reaction was to groan out her name once more. There was nothing you could do to escape. She rumbled above you, adding a small fraction of her weight onto you again. You moaned, thighs clenching together. Just a reminder of how powerful she is with just her weight.

Gawtin then shifted her body to sit back on her haunches. With the grip around your neck, the predator easily pulled you to your feet. Despite the fact she had lost height, Gawtin was still taller than you. Not as towering but enough to make a cold sweat roll down your spine. She pulled you towards her, as close as possible.

With her long, pink tongue, she licked up the side of your face and bellowed lowly. Her purple eyes seemed to sharpen, narrowing down on your form before expanding. The predator then picked you up using the hand around your throat. You squirmed, clawing at her fingers at hint of fears entered your veins. She sat down on ground and brought you with her.

You were maneuvered to sit in her lap, back to her chest. Your legs were thrown on either side of her own, forcing you to spread wide to accommodate her size. The only thing protecting you from Gawtin’s thick fingers from plunging into you was the shorts you wore.

Yet, with the predator behind you, that or anything wouldn’t stop her. Her massive paw grasped the fabric and pulled hard. The cloth was simply torn from your body and thrown off to the side. You gasped and wiggled in her lap. Which had her tightening her hand around your throat. Instinctively, you stilled, eyes rolling into the back of your head.

A part of you wanted her to run a digit between your folds, to feel how wet you were. The other side of you was completely embarrassed on how much slick has pooled from you already. How wet you were from being hunted by your lover. You keened and jutted your hips up for some kind of attention.

Pain spring from in the inside of your thigh. A husky growl sounded from the beast behind you. Immediately, you cried out, head flung back to rest on her chest – too short to touch her shoulder. Shit. It hurt. It hurt so good. You shivered, unable to stop yourself, and began to lightly pant. “Gawtin, please. I need you so much, love,” you begged, hands coming to rest on her thighs. The thick muscles underneath the skin rippled at the touch.

“So sweet with your begging. But it is not going to get you anywhere, love,” she mocks you, voice low and barely audible with how grumbly it was. You keened with a pitiful huff, yet you kept still. Moving has only rewarded you with a stinging slap. A lesson well learned.

Gawtin took note of this and purred for you with content. The hand on your thighs slid up your feeble flesh to cup your soaking cunt. This was what you’ve been begging for. Any sort of touch to have you coming in her lap. But this Yautja was smart. The touch was light, fingers nowhere near entering you. Yet, Gawtin’s claws barely biting into your skin, only causing dents. Her palm had a gentle feeling. It wasn’t enough. Not even close.

But, you couldn’t hold it in. You squirmed in her lap again, jerking your hips to rub against her hand. It offered a little relief. Before she moved her palm completely away to grasp at a spread thigh of yours. Those nails of hers that weren’t trimmed bit harshly into the flesh, leaving marks that would later be cared for.

You hissed at the pain. Nothing of words escaped your lips though. This was part of the show. “Be good little ooman for me, love.” And you wanted to. You really, desperately wanted to. But, it’s her. She makes you want to act out, want to be a rebel, a brat.

With a drop of courage, you stilled. “No,” you stated then used a hand to dip between your legs. Before you had even a chance to touch yourself, a massive paw snatched you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she snarled and moved so her face next to your ear. All her noises could be heard, loud in clear. The hand in her grasp was forced behind your back, between the two of you. Her hold on your neck tightened and stayed that way. Less blood was making its way to your mind, forcing you to feel dizzy and lightheaded. That heightened everything going on with your body now.

“Such a naughty ooman. So dirty.” Diligent finger crept up the inside of your thigh, but you didn’t move. “Letting a Yautja purposefully hunt you down, to use you at their whim.” Now, the edges of your vision were starting to darken, body beginning to go lax. Gawtin read this swiftly and loosened her hold. More blood was allowed to go through your arteries to reach your brain.

A clawed digit ran through soak folds and skimmed over an electricized nub. Without meaning to, you gasped and arched your back away from her chest. Your hands didn’t know what to do. They hovered at your sides, shaking. Not a clear thought between your eyes even as the feeling ebbed away, leaving you desperate for more.

That hand moved past your sight and to the mouth of Gawtin. All you could hear was the slippery, long tongue of hers lick up the juices she scooped up to taste. You shivered. Then, her fingers were back to the apex of your thighs.

One semi-intelligent thought came to mind for yourself. You forced your body to stay, to be good for her as Gawtin did the same thing again. You whimper harshly, eyes squeezed shut as you bit at your lip. Curses were swirling inside of your foggy mind. All you could think of doing was rutting into her hand like a dog in heat, wanting nothing else but her. Just her.

“Learning, are we?” Gawtin teased, voice causing vibrations to up your ear drum. You whined but kept still, somehow, someway. “Yeah, you are.”

One digit pushed past your folds, slowly slipping its way in all the way to the knuckle. Your eyes rolled back, head thrown back to rest on Gawtin’s shoulders. Your walls locked down on her thick finger. That didn’t compared to when she curled it. It dragged and pressed against your g-spot as she scooped your essence out of you again. All to taste you again.

“Gawtin, please… I-mmm, I need… you, badly,” you whimpered. The muscles that lined your thighs were tensed but you didn’t move besides that. You bite at your bottom lip harshly to stop any noises.

In your ear, Gawtin grumbled a laugh that shook you to your core. “What was that? Hm? I couldn’t hear you,” she taunted you. Her hand came back down to your cunt and shove her finger back in. The teasing, it was wearing you down to the bone. Your mind becoming mush under her administrations. Gawtin’s hand squeezed again at your neck. Instantly, you were a puddle in her lap. “Good, so good for me.”

Dazed, you nodded your head. Her upper hold stroked the length of your neck before returning the firm grasp again. Gawtin chittered something in her language, not that you caught it, brain turning to goo.

This time, two fingers plunged into the depths of your core. You cried out into the jungle around, like wounded prey. Gawtin squeezed harder, as if threatening, showing you how dangerous she is. One snap of her wrist, and she could have you dead. Your walls flutter around her two digits inside of you.

Now, Gawtin began a pace that slow, methodical strokes that had butterflies roaring in your stomach. They raced up each vein in your body to the tips of your fingers. This is what you wanted, the bare minimal and it stroked that fire deep in the pit of your belly. It made you desperate, blabbering for more. Anything Gawtin, your Yautja was willing to offer.

Talons that have killed hundreds, created divits on the back of your neck. Her hand easily smothered your throat without any trouble. Your core clench, releasing more of your essence onto deadly, skilled fingers. They played with you like a musician born to perform. Your knees threatened to pull up to your chest, feeling hair of embarrassment.

Something in the back of your head whisper dark thoughts. Any of her species could possibly hear you right now, hear how dirty you were being for Gawtin.

Next thing you knew, there was a stinging smack to the inside of your thighs. You yelped, muscles tensed before the hold on your throat squeezed as a reminder. A reminder to stay still and be good. You did your best, body starting trembling worse now. Yet, you couldn’t pinpoint the reason on why.

The hand below returned by cupping your sex then Gawtin grinded the heel of her palm straight into the hoof of your sex. The whine that sounded afterwards was incredibly shameful. But, she didn’t let you have single moment to drown in any thoughts.

Fangs that have the power to simply tear out your throat touched the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder. The sharpened ends skirted up then down before softly latching onto your shoulder. This is where you shuttered harshly.

All the sensations she sent through your body simultaneously had you dizzy and disoriented. Gawtin knew. She always knew. Ever since it was made official you were hers, she’s learned your body from the insid-oh! A thick, callused finger prodded at your empty core. From the inside out.

The tip of her claw was dulled yet careful on pushing to the first knuckle. “My little prey, forced to take what I give. No room for arguing or escaping. You are mine, little artist. All mine to consume and taste and hear all those wonderful noises you make,” she whispered after letting your shoulder go to speak. Her long, forked tongue danced up the shell of your ear.

Gawtin pushed further into your body and refreshing her mind of your cunt. The way it fluttered like Ezail – winged creature – around her finger was delicious. Your juices leaked out like a river onto the soil of her home planet, in the jungle, taking you like prey. Gawtin relished in the blazing heat that sucked her digit further in until her knuckles prevent her from going any deeper.

It was pulled completely from you. Even with your head slightly tilted back to make room for the size of her hand, you watched at her hand came up. Her middle finger soak, glistening with slick. The Yautja leaned forward, just far enough so you could see out of the corner of your eye. Like the way she knew you would be. Then, with that ridiculously long tongue, it started from the base and licked up to the very tip of her claws. You felt how that affected you then felt the way she shuttered.

“I can never get enough of you. You taste so… unique, new, and down right addicting. I will never get tired of your alien taste. I will take you in all ways possible. You will no be able to think after I’m done with you.” As the predator spoke, Gawtin voice hardened, thickened with a promise of what’s to come. This was a promise she’ll keep and won’t let you forget for a single second.

Your throat vibrated with a mixture of a whine and groan that stemmed from somewhere deep. “Gawtin.” It was a beg, though you wished to as demanding as she could be.

A hiss sounded from Gawtin’s vocal cords. Once more, she squeezed at your neck and limited the blood from reaching your brain. It heightened the feeling when Gawtin touched your cunt again. That same middle finger skimmed through your folds and gather what leaked out. Instead of bringing it to her mouth, she pressed it against yours.

Without hesitance and with obedience, you parted your lips, awaiting. Gawtin entered and let her digit rest mindfully on your tongue. Soft, plush, moist lips sealed around it and sucked it further in. Tangy, slightly bitter, yet it had an powerful sweet taste. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Holy shit.

This time, you didn’t mean to but you squirmed impatiently in her lap. Truly, you were learning but it was hard, a difficult task of staying still as she teased you like this. Apologetic words stumbled out of your lips without trouble. You didn’t know if they were understandable but you tried.

“Shh, shh. It is alright, little one.” Rough hands petted at your sides, one rubbing something wet onto your skin. “Just tell me what you want. I will grant it.”

One of your shaky hands reached for her wrist, she met you half way. Despite being a terrifying hunter that’s trained for hundred of years, Gawtin let you easily guide her hand back to your core. Her hand slipped from underneath yours to rest on top of it. Then, she pushed yours to cup your own sex.

Soaked and swollen. “Feel that?” A gentle tense of her arm forced you to full embrace what’s she’s done to you. You couldn’t help the hoarse cry and the buck of you hips. With her there, holding your hand firmly, you unintentionally grinded against your palm. Curses words drooled from your slickened lips. “Good girl.”

This was torture. Completely so. There was no way around it.

Gawtin let you pulled your limb away, though it just fell limply at your side. You gritted your teeth then hissed through them, a light pant starting. “I need you. I need you. Gawtin!” you shouted at the end, voice echoing throughout the jungle that surrounded the two of you.

Immediately, her palm was cupping your cunt once more. The two claws that weren’t dulled parted your folds for the ones that were. They were soft, gently on pushing into you, ensuring there was no discomfort once-oh-ever.

This alien was big, massive compared to your meek form next to an apex predator. A finger itself was thick, but now with two filling you… they stretched you walls, carefully till her knuckles kissed your folds again.

All of the tense muscles that were coiled tight unfurled. You sunk into the body that made up Gawtin, skin molding to hers.

If only you thought was it. Thick digits curled slightly and pressed up as they retracted. You harshly gasped, back arching away from Gawtin. Your nails clawed down her muscular thighs, leaving nothing in their wake. Her name was somewhere falling from your lips in the meantime. Gawtin plunged back into your body, the obscene noise it created would’ve had you blushing hard. If only you were in the right mind.

“Mmm, I love it when you say my name like that,” she purred straight into your ear. Then, that glorious tongue of hers tasted the flesh along your neck.

Naked as the day you were born, everything was exposed. Gawtin was more than happy to take advantage of that. The hand not filling you currently captured a beaded nipple between two finger. Instantly, that sent a fresh wave of buzzing energy to your ignored clit. Though, the way she stroked expertly at your g-spot had you feeling close to the edge. A razor sharp edge. One that will completely swallow you whole and leave you nothing to lay on.

Both arms were digging into the flesh that made up her upper thighs and hips. Those were you lifeline, what you needed to survive. It was all you could do in the moment to keep from going insane.

All because of Gawtin. All because of your Yautja, your mate.

“Those sounds… you only make them for me. All for me.  For no one else, right?” You didn’t have the thought process to speak. All you could do was dumbly nod your head. You heard the way she purred with delight and twisted your nipple. You cried out with your chest rapidly moving up and down. God, you were desperate for to do more. To stop tormenting you with these subtle light touches.

In your ear, she hissed at all the little sounds. All of them were swallowed up by her ears, letting no one else have them besides herself.

There was nothing computing in your brain, not a thought worth wild. You chewed on your lip to try and contain any noises possible.

Her heel laid on top of your clit. That former attempt was forgotten and abandoned swiftly without notice. As Gawtin’s fingers fucked into your body, she was talented enough to softly grind her palm against you. You gasped out in shock, toes curling in reaction.

One of your hands reached behind and mindlessly grasped at a thick, dark dread. It filled your hand as you tugged on it, thumb rubbing over the rubbery texture.

By God. A dark, thundering snarl cascaded from Gawtin’s throat. Beautiful in its own dangerous way. Not that you had anything to worry about. The heel completely flattened against your clit and sent an overwhelming wave of pleasure throughout your veins. Her thick fingers plunged deep into your body to start a vigorous pace.

That sent you off. Your back arched off of her lower torso. All the muscles in your legs coil, toes curling. Your hands white knuckled the skin that made up her hips. A heavy gush of fresh essence dripped out of like fine wine. Gawtin didn’t care.

All that was on her mind was the way you looked, striking and beautiful. You clung to her as you reached the peak, feeble nail desperate to create marks. Your walls clamped down at first, as if it suck her fingers somehow deeper into you needy body. Then, they start flutter. Hard. Gawtin didn’t relent and focused solely on that bundle of nerves hidden away in your core.

That kept your frame feeling suspended in space, floating in the ecstasy she drove you to. Every muscle taunt, as if ready to snap.

Nothing could truly escape your vocal cords. Besides the croak you first made before it became overwhelming, throat closing up. Gawtin bathed in the fact she left you speechless, a furled and soaked mess in her lap. And the smell. Pauk, you smelled like the sweetest fruit imaginable. And once you relaxed, she will force you onto your shoulders and eat you out. She will force you to give her that sweet nectar you produced for her.

Gawtin kept her fingers going. One hand tweak at your nipple. Other, filling your cunt like that way it should be as you came around them. There was no stopping this well oiled machine from giving you pleasure.

That’s when the Yautja released something that had a smirk growing on her mandibles. As your body slow drift back to rest against her but you squirmed from the overstimulation growing from the pits of your stomach. A desperate cry sound from your throat, crackling. You weakly tried to pull away either limb from a part of yourself to let up on the onslaught…

But Gawtin didn’t budge an inch. Your legs begin to shake, trembling. With what little power you hold, you fought against her. This alien wasn’t moving a single centimeter. And that’s when you felt it. It had to be impossible. This hasn’t happened before, not that you can think of. You whimper with a pathetic whine and shook.

You came again. Powerful. Overwhelming. Mind numbing. This time, your vocal cords worked. “Gawtin!” White noise filled your ears. You couldn’t make sense of what was happening; what was up from down, left from right. All you knew, could remember was Gawtin’s name. You sung it like with a broken cry that tore at your throat.

Hours. It had to be hours that passed by before you floated back into your body. To feel a hardened, hot body molded to your back. Sweat clung to your skin like a sheet. Even though, it should’ve felt incredibly uncomfortable, you could care less about the feeling. What you focused on was the rubbing of hands, petting at your sides.

Your lungs were panting for air, trying to fill themselves up as much as possible. You lolled your head back against a meaty shoulder with a throat groan. The entity you rest against vibrated with a laugh.

Heat swaddled your throat. A thumb stroked along your pulse point, soft. You couldn’t help but moan again. “There is my little artist,” her voice smooth like butter on a hot plate. It soothed you, made you become pliable. Well, more than last time. “You did so good go for me. So well.” The praise was immediately sent to your blazing clit. You wiggled in her lap again, mindlessly. Fuck, that felt good.

The grasp on your throat pinched your jaw then turned your head towards Gawtin. A groan lazy escaped from you. “How do you feel?” She had her pinkie continuously running over your pulse point.

A aloof smile graced your lips. “More,” you whined. Immediately, Gawtin’s eyes narrowed straight onto yours. Her body hardened against yours, hand tightening around your neck. Her face bent down for a moment to bury into the crook of your neck.

“You are playing a dangerous game.” A forked tongue licked up the side of your neck before Gawtin had to sit up, the strain too much for her. You gave her a lopsided grin.

And her fingers returned to your oversensitive clit. “And I will join in this game.”

[spitefulsatanfics]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒

❝There’s no shame in hope. It's the only thing that gets you through.❞ — Sam Winchester, Supernatural Season 5, Episode 22

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Y/N (She/Her Reader) From: Supernatural (non-specific season)

Tone: Gentle domestic romance, deep introspection, emotional healing, soft touches, quiet joy, slow burn comfort

Rating: 17+ | 🔞 Warnings: implied sexual content, pregnancy, anxiety, emotional vulnerability, language, minors do not interact.

Based on: Supernatural (series-wide canon-adjacent; show is rated 17+) Word Count: 4,116

Synopsis: Sam never pictured a world where he’d be building cribs instead of salt lines—but this new life? With Y/N? With something growing beneath her ribs that shares his blood? He’s never been more afraid… or more ready.

𝙒𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙗𝙮: 𝙇𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝘿𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙡 ♡ | 𝘿𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙒𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙋𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙙: 𝙈𝙖𝙮 19, 2025 ™

= ° ✓ ™ \

𝙎𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 𝙄

𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 & 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳

The bunker breathed in silence, the kind that only came after years of violence had settled into something sweeter. Sam sat at the long table in the war room, glasses low on his nose, flipping through a parenting book like it held arcane secrets. His coffee sat cold beside him—forgotten, like his need for sleep.

Y/N had fallen asleep in the library’s corner nest of pillows an hour ago. Her book still rested against her bump, and her hand curled protectively over the swell of her abdomen even in dreams.

Sam couldn’t stop looking at her.

There were hunts, there were angels and devils and timelines rewritten—but none of them had made him feel like this. This full, this fragile, this aware of the breath in his lungs. Fatherhood. The word felt heavy in his mind. Holy, almost.

She stirred.

“M’bookworm,” she slurred, voice wrecked with sleep.

Sam crossed the room in seconds and crouched beside her, brushing his fingers through her hair. “Hey.”

“How long was I out?”

“About an hour. You looked peaceful.”

“Dreamed of you reading Shakespeare to my belly again.”

He blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guilty.”

She smiled, reaching for his hand and guiding it to rest over her bump. The small flutter there made his breath catch.

“She kicked when you said ‘To thine own self be true,’” she whispered.

Sam swallowed hard. “Maybe she’ll be a nerd like her dad.”

“Better than a demon, huh?”

The joke hung there, dark and soft. And then her thumb brushed across his knuckles and it vanished like mist.

“You’re not that,” she said firmly. “You never were.”

Sam closed his eyes and let the warmth of her, of them, root him.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna try. I mean—I’m gonna try really damn hard to be good at this.”

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Sam. You already are.”

= ° ✓ ™ \

𝙎𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 𝙄𝙄

𝘯𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 & 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴

The room next to theirs had once been a dusty archive, stuffed with books no one touched. Now it held a bassinet, pale yellow curtains, and a slowly growing collection of stuffed animals that Sam swore multiplied overnight.

He stood in the centre of it, holding up a onesie that read “Research Assistant” in Comic Sans.

Dean’s idea.

“I’ll burn it,” Y/N said from behind him.

He laughed. “Nah, I think it’s kinda cute.”

“You would,” she teased, wrapping her arms around his waist. “You’ve been in here a while.”

Sam looked around, expression unreadable. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about what her first word might be. Or if she’ll like books. Or hate the bunker. Or—”

“Sam.”

He turned.

“You are not allowed to overthink the first five years of her life in one sitting.”

He gave her that shy, tilted grin. “What if she calls Dean first?”

“Then we start therapy early.”

She pressed her forehead to his chest. “Name thoughts?”

He nodded. “I was thinking… Mary, maybe. Or if it’s a boy—maybe Henry. But also—something new. Something that’s just… hers.”

Y/N looked up at him, eyes shining. “You’ve been thinking a lot about this, huh?”

He kissed her softly. “I never thought I’d get the chance to.”

They stood there like that, two souls wrapped in quiet magic, the future stretching out like a story waiting to be told.

= ° ✓ ™ \

𝙎𝙀𝘾𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 𝙄𝙄𝙄

𝘧𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 & 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴

Y/N was burning up.

It wasn’t supernatural—just a fever, a cold, maybe something from a trip into town—but Sam hovered like she was about to combust. A damp cloth pressed to her forehead, a book of home remedies in his lap, and a hand never straying too far from her stomach.

“I’m fine,” she croaked. “You’re acting like I’m dying.”

“You have a 101.6 fever and you’re seven months pregnant. I’m allowed to panic.”

“You’re always allowed to panic. But also—I’m just cooking. And maybe hallucinating that you’re wearing a chef’s hat.”

Sam snorted. “That’s Dean’s apron. He left it in here after bringing soup.”

“Tell him I love him. Tell him I’ll name the baby after him if he brings more soup.”

“I’m already regretting this.”

She shifted under the covers, groaning softly. “God, everything aches.”

He crawled into bed beside her, wrapping her in his arms, anchoring her through the storm of her body’s rebellion.

“Tell me something,” she whispered.

“Anything.”

“Something that’s just ours.”

Sam closed his eyes.

“There was this night. Just after our first hunt together. You fell asleep in the car. The moonlight caught your face, and I thought… God. If I let myself love her, she’s going to ruin me.”

She blinked at him. “Did I?”

Sam kissed her with everything he didn’t know how to say.

“No,” he whispered. “You saved me.”

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥. 𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘸. 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵.

[blissfulstarsfics]

Black and White Chapter 19.5

Read on AO3

Chapter Rating: M

Pairing: A!A x F Tav

Interlude

Tonight was the first night in months that Lord and Lady Ancunín had made a joint public appearance. She had become a recluse in the tendays before giving birth to her children, leaving him to attend events on his own. The practice continued for four months after their birth, allowing her body to mend.

Astarion was eager to do the rounds with her again. Going from one party to the next didn’t feel right without her at his side. There was no one to gossip with, to plot with, to help him sabotage their neighbors with, or to play the angel to his devil. 

They returned home in their new carriage earlier than expected. Their host unexpectedly fell ill, passing out in the middle of a special dance with his granddaughter. Elia pouted, it was the first time she had been able to get dolled up in so long. She had even proudly worn the new earrings he had the jewelers make for her. A pair of teardrops made from their children’s birthstones.

Astarion could hardly take his eyes off her in the emerald green and gold dress she wore. Neither could most of the other guests. He had missed how they turned heads whenever they walked into a room. The other noble mothers gawped jealously at her figure, hating her for how she managed to almost entirely revert to her pre-birth state in such a short time.

Stepping in from the chilly autumn air, they handed their overcoats to the footman. Upstairs, they heard two little cries coming from the nursery. The lord and lady entered to find the wet nurses desperately trying to pacify the infants. This was becoming a nightly occurrence. Eryn would cry and wail, this would in turn upset Rael, resulting in the agitation of both children. 

“Give me my son.” Astarion held his hands out to the nurse holding Eryn. Sheepishly, she handed him over. Without a word, he left to go to his study. The nurse could be heard apologizing profusely to Elia for failing to care for the boy. Technically, she did, but only because she didn’t know what he needed.

The vampiric thirst awakened at random times within dhampirs. Some felt the need for blood in their early years, some in young adulthood, others never felt it. Eryn was born with a taste for the sanguine. The boy cried and cried in his father’s arms.

“I know, my boy,” he shut the door, “I know. What that woman was offering was just terrible, wasn’t it?” Astarion carefully balanced his son in one arm, while reaching for a bottle and chalice with the other.

“Papa has the good stuff. Papa always has the good stuff.” He poured the viscous liquid into the chalice and coated the tip of his finger with sticky crimson. 

“This came from the most devious patriar, my boy.” Eryn cooed as he suckled happily on the bloodied fingertip, his eyes meeting Astarion’s in silent thanks. When he withdrew his forefinger, the boy scrunched his face.

“Oh? Do you want more?” Papa was quite pleased at his son’s growing appetite. Swirling his pale digit one more time in the cup, he let the blood drip into Eryn’s mouth. Relatively speaking, it didn’t take much to satiate the little one. He wasn’t a pure vampire, a taste was enough to keep him content. For now.

Astarion reclined in the office chair, sipping on the remaining blood. The little one’s eyes grew heavier and heavier until he finally was in trance. Fatherhood suited him, he concluded. One day he would teach them to hunt, to manipulate, to exert their power and will over the masses. It was going to be terrible fun.

With the chalice now empty, it was time to return Eryn to the nursery. Elia was rocking Rael back and forth, sweetly humming to the now resting girl.

“Ah, my girls,” he whispered.

“And my boys,” she replied. Astarion gently set his son in his crib and heard Elia giggle behind him. It never got old to her; the sight of her ‘big, tough, evil vampire lord’ being ever so delicate with his children.

She gracefully slipped out of the room, the movement of her skirts gave the illusion of her floating. After quietly shutting the nursery door, he strode down the hall after her to the master bedroom. Jewels had been tossed onto the vanity, her dark hair cascading down her slender shoulders.

Astarion wanted to nibble on that exposed skin, to trail his lips up her neck, but he refrained. Her libido had bottomed out after the birth, something he was told was quite common, and if he was one thing it was respectful of others’ consent. There were plenty of things to occupy his thoughts with in the meantime. He did not need to know her carnally to feel intimate with her. 

Elia sank into the bed, exhausted. Recovery had been slow, which was to be expected. Carrying one dhampir was incredibly taxing and she had managed to carry two. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out.

Sweet dreams, my love, he thought. While the rest of the family slept, it was a prime opportunity for him to get work done. The world would not stop for them and the Vampire Ascendant had an empire to grow.

[tokiro07]

Ichi the Witch ch.2 thoughts

[Woo-hoo! Witchy...Man...]

(Contents: character analysis - Ichi/Uroro/Desscaras, predictions - narrative progression)

Okay, chapter 2, and once again I feel compelled to talk about it! I'll take that as a good sign for my engagement with the series going forward

Not only is ch. 2 even prettier than ch. 1, but it expands on a few things that I felt were missing last week, helping to strengthen the story in my mind

Where last week felt like it was meant specifically to set up the high concept of the series (boy becomes first male witch) and the basic philosophy (killing with purpose is hunting, killing without is murder), this week gives us a bit more depth into the cast themselves and their greater purpose

Ichi the Healer

Naturally, the most noteworthy exploration of the chapter is certainly Ichi himself, at least to me. I said last week that his philosophy of "death for death" seemed like a thin veil separating him from his base desire to kill, and given the gleam in his eye when he heard the word "hunt" in this chapter I stand by that as a possibility, but his actions this week imply a much greater commitment to his claim of respecting life than I initially gave him credit for

He didn't seem too broken up about it when he was shown the damage he had inadvertently done to the land, but the moment he was told there was a way to fix it, he did so without hesitation. Ichi was likely capable of forgiving himself for something he did completely unintentionally because it was on such a grand scale that he didn't think there was any use dwelling on it, but with the capability of making reparations came the responsibility to do so. The cost of being unconscious for a few days is paltry in comparison to bringing back the lives he inadvertently took, and that speaks to his opinion on life far more than the circumstances that allow him to justify killing

I don't know how or if Nishi intends to develop the dichotomy of Ichi's desire to hunt and his desire not to do unnecessary harm specifically, but I'm glad we got to see both extremes so early

Likewise, I think that there's a bit of a dichotomy in Uroro's character as well, though a bit more subtly

Shoulder Devil

As I predicted, Uroro isn't dead, he's more sealed within Ichi, presumably a familiar pactbound to the one who passed his trial. I don't know if other Magiks behave the same way, but I could go either way on it. If they do, that would give us a Shaman+Guardian Ghost or Weapon+Meister style dynamic, but that could also carry the risk of overloading us with new characters when a Witch has acquired multiple Magiks. I imagine they tend not to since there's no indication that Desscaras has a bunch of familiars hanging out with her, but they might also just not be inclined to come out at the moment

In the meantime, Uroro immediately tries to use his familiar status to manipulate Ichi into putting himself in danger, which would theoretically get him killed and allow Uroro to be released. When he gets called out on it, he notes that he has more motivations beyond trying to regain freedom: he also doesn't want to be forced into serving the Witches

While Uroro looks down on humanity, he doesn't seem to be a heartless monster, as he refuses to turn on his own kind. We'll need to see him interact with other Magiks first to get a clear picture of his opinion on them as individuals, but considering that he cites the depth of their history, we can reasonably assume that he holds the species itself as a whole in high regard

This sets up a strong conflict of interest for Uroro going forward, as he will be forced to face off against other Magiks, and there will most likely come a time when he needs or wants to do so. Like how Ichi won't kill until he's given external justification, what will it take for Uroro to justify turning against one of his own? Will it be because a particular Magik angers him? Will one stand between him and his freedom? Will one have clearly sided with humanity or disrespected Magik culture?

Whatever happens, how will Uroro reconcile that? How will he forgive himself? Will he even need to, or is he a hypocrite who's perfectly willing to fight his kind so long as it's not on behalf of humans?

Of course, this projection is assuming that Uroro is meant to be Ichi's partner who will develop alongside him, rather than the series' main antagonistic force deliberately trying to thwart his development at all times. Obviously, he's going to think he's that for the foreseeable future, but the question is whether that will always be the case or if sooner or later he'll turn around. I always thought Sukuna would have that kind of development, but ultimately that wasn't the case, so I won't make that assumption at face value this time

Now, if Uroro is the Sukuna of this series, then Desscaras is likely the Gojo

The Strongest Teacher

Ichi's situation is a little different from Yuji's, in that if Ichi dies, Uroro goes free, while Yuji's death would weaken or ultimately erase Sukuna. However, to keep these ultimate monsters in check, the ultimate sorcerers of these respective worlds decide to take these vessels under their wings

Unlike Gojo, though, Desscaras immediately loses control of the situation, with Ichi doing his own thing and getting her into trouble with her superior and making her regret her decision to look after him. They're both goofy characters, but Desscaras' power doesn't protect her from getting comeuppance for her self-aggrandizing and transparently nasty personality, which to me makes her a more endearing iteration of the same basic trope

While we don't know what her teachings will look like at this exact moment, this chapter does give us at least a little glimpse into what to expect for the series going forward

On the Hunt

I probably should have seen this coming when the narrator called the Witches "hunters," but of course the Magiks need to be literally hunted. It's what Ichi is best at, so it would be odd to make him learn a new skillset to use in an unrelated context

With hunting solidified as the feedback loop, I think we can expect something akin to Toriko, an adventure where the cast needs to determine the locations, personalities, habits, weaknesses etc. of the various Magiks to facilitate passing their trials. However, since we learned of an academy in the first chapter, it's also possible that it'll be more of a mission-based structure like early Soul Eater, using the school as a hub until a Magik has been located

Personally, I would rather the locating be a big part of the hunt, but I can see how that would slow the pacing, so I won't be too broken up if it isn't part of it. Plus, having the rest of the core cast be students rather than professionals makes it a bit easier to incorporate them into the story, so there would certainly be benefits if it ends up happening. Whichever way the chips fall, I'll talk more in-depth about it when we get there

Whether it's a school or a business, though, I highly doubt that Ichi is just going to accept organizational regulations at face value and go along with "tradition." He's the first and only man ever to become a Witch, and he possesses the King of Magic; even before being introduced to the world proper, he's already a shakeup to the established order, so his methods must not only be outside of the norm, but a necessary addition to reform outdated ways

As Uroro says, Magiks are "an indigenous species" being preyed upon by the Witches, who certainly are trying to further their own power. It's all well and good for Desscaras to say it's for a noble goal like protecting people from rampaging monsters, but it's undeniable that Witches grow in strength after acquiring a Magik. There's simply no way that all of them are trying to make the world better, and based on her personality, I highly doubt that Desscaras is either (though she may surprise me). Even if they are, they definitely don't hold the life or well-being of the Magiks in any regard

This is where I think "death for death" comes in; Ichi will absolutely respect the Magiks. Whatever locations they hide in, however they interact with nature, Ichi will undoubtedly take the time to respect and understand them, even if that understanding leads to him deciding that there's no value in hunting them. The prejudices of the Witches likely equate to "Magik = target," but Uroro suggests that they have their own society and culture, so a fresh perspective like Ichi's will likely be necessary for finding mutual peace between the two races

Or at least, that's what I hope. It could easily turn out that the Magiks are wholly malefic and only introduced spells to the Witches to sew discord among humanity, and they're ultimately no different from the Curses of JJK or the majority of UMAs in Undead Unluck. I would much rather this series, with its themes already reminiscent of the circle of life ideology, find a way to work in an angle of coexistence, but I won't proclaim that the series is bad if it goes a more common direction

Conclusion

I...did not expect this post to go this long, honestly. I figured each segment would be one paragraph and I'd move on, but apparently I'm incapable of being concise. Oops!

But again, the fact that we're two-for-two on this series' chapters making me write reviews on par with those I write for Undead Unluck each week is a great sign for how much I currently like and can expect to like this series in the future. It could end up losing me sooner or later, especially if it gets overly complex in its power system and geopolitical worldbuilding, but for now looking forward to how both of those subjects develop

[moyashidoodles]

Tiny doodles of Pidge (my Tav) from act 1 and early act 2. Her hair changed for each act so it’s easy to tell where they are in their journey by how disheveled she looks.

Pidge is a wild magic sorcerer with an affinity for soul magic. She can see the color of others souls (I don’t consider this game breaking, but also it’s my brain baby so idc if that’s possible in the 5e rule set) there are some supplemental fan spells and materials for adding soul magic and flavor and there’s the soul knife subclass rogue which I think was a Critical Roll addition? Ugh, look at me spreading misinformation on the internet.

OC lore below the cut.

Content warning: abusive relationship discussion (parent and child), implied sexual and physical abuse.

Anyway, Pidge grew up Rapunzel like with a very controlling and narcissistic “mother knows best” mom. The only reason her mother even had a child was to be a “spare” body for when her mother succumbed to a fatal illness (and to help her mother transfer souls into soul coins and gems to be bartered in the 9 hells. Lots of devil’s work)

Pidge’s mother is controlling to the extent that Pidge was not allowed to learn anything about her wild magic and spent much of her life warded to keep her from accessing the weave. “For her own safety,” of course. The only magic she was allowed and praised for learning was soul magic, and this was to help her mother with her research into immortality and with business ventures.

Pidge was also used as “entertainment” for her mother’s important guests. Basically anything that her mother could get from Pidge, she would try to use to her benefit.

About 3-5months before the beginning of the game, Pidge escaped and crafted an amulet to protect her body and soul from being hijacked by her mother.

She is the only member of the bg3 origin crew who did not lose skills when she was infected by the tadpole. She didn’t really have skills to begin with. Much to Gale’s dismay, she learns basically on the fly and does a lot of “firebolt first, ask questions later.” To her, practical experience is much more important than book learning. Really she has adhd and can’t rote memorize for the life of her.

She identifies with Karlach early on as they both have had dealings with the hells, although Pidge is just beginning to understand the ramifications of her mother’s hellish business of soul coin forging.

Pidge is also very afraid in act 1 of Gale finding her out as she was told to keep her soul magic affinity secret by her mother. In truth the stigma for soul magic is not so bad, but it was a manipulation technique to keep Pidge from explaining to any magic practitioners what they were working on and how her mother planned to use the research to steal Pidge’s body.

Her mother is still hunting her down, so Pidge needs a permanent solution or soul barrier to keep herself from her mother “living vicariously” through her.

Bodily autonomy is stupid important to her. She rejects the Emperor the moment he tells her to “embrace her ilithid potential” for fear of losing herself. She is self conscious to the extreme and keeps notes on her newfound companions likes and dislikes so she can keep them happy. She had a legitimate panic attack when both Gale and Astarion wanted the necromancy of Thay because, according to her calculations, they would disapprove if the other was the recipient.

She fell for Astarion after rather disliking him for a good ten day or two. He won her over by being actually reliable in scrapes and being really funny. She can’t remember the last time anyone made her laugh, so she loves the feeling. They are the two smooth brained members of the group. Similar brain cell count.

This ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would be. If you made it to the end, then you will have made it to the end! *salutes in Barcus Wroot*

[eepyuii]

frostbite — pt. 7

pairing ; childe x gender neutral!reader

content ; childhood friends to “rivals” to lovers, slowburn-ish

cw ; none

notes ; happy new year!! it’s story quest time which meaaans- its teucer town. a lot of the reader and teucer being besties and *some* tiny particles of romantic feelings (if u catch them). also just a really lighthearted and humorous chapter :3

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three knocks.

“sergeant?”

“hm? yes, ekaterina? come in.”

the secretary steps up to your desk, where you sit pitifully, head resting on your hands. it’s been some months since osial’s attack and you’ve mysteriously remained stationed at liyue, not that you mind, of course. the traveler and paimon have long since been on their way to inazuma and, according to news you heard from all around, seem like they successfully solved the crises surrounding the electro archon and the vision hunt decree. not only has there been word on the streets of their feats but you’ve also noticed a noticeable increase in inazuman immigrants by the harbor.

but- back to the matter at hand, today you find yourself incredibly more fatigued than usual, perhaps due to your struggles with getting even a good wink of sleep the night before. the sunlight creeping through the windows seems to sting your eyes harsher than normal for early morning but you still try your best to open them and read the letter ekaterina has just placed in front of you.

noticing the strain in your efforts to, well, be awake at the moment, ekaterina clears her throat.

“it’s a mandate from the doctor himself.”

now that gets you up, though not in a good way. the sheer reminder of that man’s existence is enough to shoot an icy burn into your spine, one that makes you flinch into full consciousness.

skimming more effectively through the lines, you find that the mandate talks about a ruin guard research lab here in liyue under his guise, obviously, that he is requiring you to briefly oversee in his absence. not as bad as you thought but also not entirely good. the doctor has never presently explained his affinity for ruin guard robotics to you- because truly, why would he? but it’s no less than apparent how big his interest in them is, in your experience.

with a long, heavy sigh, you nod.

“i see. thank you, ekaterina, you may go.”

she bows politely and turns to leave while you reread the letter to gather the full details of the research lab. once ekaterina is by the door to your office, you take note of the sound of as her heels stop abruptly as she yelps in surprise, muttering a small ‘hello, master childe’ and carrying on her way. the next moment, they very devil she spoke of is bursting into the room.

“good morning, doc!” he chirps with surprising energy for how early it is and places a closed cup on your desk.

“here! i got you some coffee, thought it might help wake you up.”

“thanks a lot… wait, how did you know i was tired-“

“and with that act of courtesy, i would like to propose my own favor to be granted by yours truly. and that is for us to sp-“

“childe, i cannot spar with you today.”

with that, the harbinger slumps into himself like a fussing child, ironic, and groans softly. he’s about to try his very persuasive best to convince you anyway when he spots the letter in your hands and raises an eyebrow curiously.

“what’s that?”

you sigh again, pinching the bridge of your nose. “a mandate from dottore asking me to check up on one of his ruin guard research facilities, here in liyue.”

childe seems to empathize with your disdain for the request and scoffs, mumbling about ‘that lunatic and his little toy robots…’.

“hm, well i wish you luck with that. i’ve also got myself some less than stellar debts to collect today, might as well busy myself somehow even if ekaterina thinks i shouldn’t.”

“good luck with that too.”

childe turns to leave, slightly less chipper than he was when he walked in, until he stops by the door to turn around. “you’re still owing me a spar for that coffee!”

“whatever!”

grassy mountains, building ruins, ginkgo trees- minlin was just like any other area of liyue, though you’d never steal any merit from the relaxing scenery of the entire region. every new place you visited took your breath away with its beauty all the same.

it’s become an unspoken habit to deal with ruin guards at this point and you knew their patterned behaviors and limits like no other, maybe only the doctor himself. several of them sat inactivated in the ruins around you, as expected, and you took note of each one for your report diligently. as you’re approaching the entrance of the lab itself, you spot another ruin guard sat against a crumbled tower- except it was not the only thing there, there were people too. it’s not hard to decipher that it turns out to be the traveler and paimon and… someone else.

wait… surely it’s not him.

“teucer?”

all three of them immediately turn around, except teucer lights up at the sight of you and jumps from his crouching position to run at you with full speed. despite being perplexed at his presence, you still kneel to welcome him with open arms.

“big sibling y/n!! you’re here!!” he yells out, elated.

you chuckle fondly and stand up with teucer clung onto your torso.

“it’s good to see you too, teuce’, but… what in the heavens are you doing all the way here?”

looking over teucer’s shoulder, you turn to the other two, who look just as confused about the entire situation as you do.

“and you two as well, weren’t you supposed to be in inazuma still?”

“mm-yeah, we were taking a bit of a break! we’re on our way to sumeru next and liyue’s the shortest way there so… might as well take some leisurely time off.”

paimon elaborates, until she and the traveler share a look and the two of them sigh.

“unfortunately, the millelith asked us to check out these rui- ahem, i mean mr. cyclops showing up around this area. and as we were doing that, we ran into teucer over here!”

you breathe out a laugh, pitying the pair’s lack of… well- time to take a break without any tasks given to them. ‘talk about leisurely…’ you mutter, quiet enough so teucer doesn’t hear. speaking of him…

“that still doesn’t explain how you were here at all, mister.” you poke the boy’s side with the hand that isn’t holding him up against you and he giggles uncontrollably, attempting to dodge your finger.

“ahahahahah! s-stop! hahah… i’m here to see big brother at the institute for toy research! you work there too, right?”

what.

oh- is that what he thinks childe does? dear gods, that’s too funny. however you do understand why childe would lie about your jobs, you think you’d do much the same. still it takes everything within you to not burst out laughing at the revelation, even the traveler seems to notice so, somewhat understanding the reason but also somewhat not. you huff out a breath to calm the urge to cackle and turn to the two once again.

“listen, you guys don’t need to worry about this one anymore, i’ll take care of him. oh! and don’t worry about the- err, mr cyclops replicas, i’ll sort them out too. go take your break, you deserve it.”

“but- they’re my friends! they like toys like i do! a-and they made the pinky promise!” teucer retaliates.

gods damn the snezhnayan pinky swear.

“plus, he did give us this big bag of mora to take care of him…” paimon eyes the traveler, who returns the glance with a nod as if they’re silently communicating.

“and yeah- we’d much rather go see this ‘toy institute’ than deal with mr. cyclops right now.”

you nod in agreement and gesture for all of you to head back to the harbor, partially to avoid seeing the millelith soldiers patrolling the area.

“so- just out of curiosity, teuce’, what exactly did your brother say about me working with toys?”

“he said you’re a toy doctor! you take care of the toys who get hurt or sick.”

“yeah, that checks out.”

—

arriving back at northland bank, the first thing you spot is childe and ekaterina discussing something at the center of the room, oblivious to your presence for the moment. that is, until teucer bursts from your tired arms to run to his older brother.

paimon, somehow, remains oblivious enough to what is right in front of her enough to whisper. “huh? what’s he doing here…”

“yay, my brother! i found you!” exclaims teucer and childe immediately perks up, ceasing any doubts that paimon might’ve had.

“i know that voice… why, if it isn’t my little brother teucer! my goodness!”

the harbinger takes his younger brother into his arms, much like you did before, except he wraps him in a nearly bone crushing hug before setting him back down.

“haha.. what a nice surprise, teucer! i thought i would have to wait till i return home before seeing you again. how are the others, tonia and anthon? is everybody keeping well?”

“they miss you a lot! tonia prays for you every day at dinner.” it seems that only after teucer’s response is when the realization of the sheer absurdity that is teucer’s presence sets within childe, his face morphing into confusion.

“wait a second… what are you doing here in liyue, teucer? how have i not heard anything about this?”

that entire interaction, you remained merely watching from behind with an irrepressible fond smile on your face- you were so lost in their reunion that you almost miss the incredulous glare childe throws to you, like he’s silently asking if you had anything to do with this. you jump slightly once noticing it and quickly shrug, shaking your head to signify that you’re just as clueless as him.

“well, what happened was- i saw a boat that looked like it was selling toys, so obviously i thought you were on board. and then when i got off i just kept walking and walking… and then, i found a mr. cyclops!”

unbelievable.

“mr cyclops scared off a bad guy, and then i found this nice lady and-and then y/n found us! so we came looking for you.”

childe seems to have another moment of realization, where another fleeting glance comes your way and he sighs, facing off to the side to mouth to himself ‘of course, the research lab…’.

“teucer…” he starts off and you seem to understand what he’s about to say right away, leaving teucer’s side to be right in front of him, beside childe. you kneel to teucer’s height and hold out your hands for him to hold, to make him feel less like he’s being scolded. his tiny hands are dwarfed by yours in a way that makes your heart swell.

“…teuce’, what you did was really dangerous. we’re both happy to see you, really, but please promise you won’t do anything like this ever again.”

childe nods in agreement and teucer sighs, letting go of your hands to put them behind his back sheepishly.

“okay, i promise… please don’t be mad at me.”

“we’re not mad at you. we just care about your safety, that’s all.” childe reassures.

“if you hadn’t met these nice people, and even more if y/n hadn’t found you, things could’ve been a lot more dangerous for you, teucer. i hope you said a big thank-you to all of them?”

“yep! i always remember my please’s and thank-you’s!

“oohh so you did notice we were here… you were just ignoring us, gotcha.” paimon adds sarcastically as she and the traveler look at childe through a sassy glare.

“haha… forgive me, it’s always family first where i’m from. don’t take it personally. i know we’ve had our differences up to now but.. a few minor quibbles aside, we get on quite well, don’t you think?”

the traveler’s incredulous reaction tells you that perhaps teucer shouldn’t listen to the conversation while they sort out their, erm, quibbles- so you gently take him by the hand and lead him off ever so slightly to the side, where you know he’ll be at least distracted enough to not listen. kneeling down, you once again take his impossibly adorable hands into yours and fiddle with them playfully, he only grins in oblivious amusement.

“so, teuce’, tell me more- how’re things back home? you’re not too bored without us there, are you?”

“mm-no, i’m just fine! anthon still plays with me a bunch and tonia always reads me the letters big brother sends us, she always tells such cool stories!”

“yeah? like what?”

the young boy thinks for a moment, rubbing his chin like he’s mentally paging through the deepest, most riveting tales he can recall.

“hmm.. oh! one time she told me the story of how big brother discovered a new version of mr. cyclops! he’s bigger and.. and stronger and he’s got huge horns, like a deer! he’s like mr. cyclops' big brother.”

well, at least childe is keeping his lies somewhat accurate. but the way teucer beams and hops excitedly as he talks about the bigger mr. cyclops, or a ruin grader as you know it, seems to justify keeping him in the dark. the way his big blue eyes shine with wonder is in itself a treasure worth protecting. you’ve practically long forgotten that you’re supposed to be stalling out a conversation to distract him.

“that’s so awesome, teucer!” you grin back at him. “what other stories does your brother tell?”

“hm..- oh yeah! he also talks about you in his letters.”

oh?

“does he?” you’re unsure if you should feel good or bad about the revelation, gods know what childe says to his siblings about you.

“yeah he does! he talks about how you take such good care of the toys when they get hurt and how smart you are and how…”

suddenly, teucer trails off as he turns to the trio still conversing near you, like he’s heard something that’s caught his attention. he entirely abandons the sentence he’d left unfinished to join their side again and you find yourself feeling the smidgenmost bit disappointed that he didn’t finish speaking. you only sigh to yourself and smooth your clothes down from the crouching position you were in, joining back in as well.

“that’s right, my brother’s the greatest! he’s mr. cyclops’ bestest friend!”

childe chuckles in somewhat faux delight, to satisfy teucer and make it seem like he approves of his brother’s message, before leaning over to the traveler and whisper, as you hear it,- ‘just humor me in front of teucer, if you’d be so kind…’

“ahem- ah yes! ekaterina, i will deal with the issue of the outstanding payment right away.”

“hey! slinking off, are we?” paimon accuses.

“but, master childe, would it not be improper to ask you to deal with… debt collection?”

“a bet is a bet, isn’t it? and if you lose a bet with an agent.. well, you might as well get some exercise out of it.”

“are you going off to sell toys now?” teucer interjects, partially with admiration for his brother and partially with disappointment that he has to leave.

“that’s right. as much as i’d like to catch up a little longer, teucer, duty calls! i’m sure y/n and ms. nice lady will keep you company while i’m out, though.”

childe implies with a pleading glance thrown to you and the traveler. you nod gladly while the traveler puts her hand to her forehead momentarily and paimon mumbles a complaint about having to babysit for childe.

“sure!” teucer confirms as well. “i really like y/n and this lady already! and anyway, the nice lady made a pinky promise to take good care of me.”

the harbinger ends up leaving the four of you with a hefty bag of mora to spend out in the city while he’s working and you firstly decide to take him to an elderly lady’s kite shop. she patiently explains how to use the kites and teucer asks for a mr. cyclops shaped kite, because why wouldn’t he- you manage to convince the lady to make a custom build for it with a shining pile of mora. next, you take him to wanmin restaurant, where chef mao graciously offers to make a special dish for teucer, who can’t eat spicy food. you don’t blame him, personally- snezhnayan dishes tend to steer away from spice specifically and lean more towards warm, filling meals to endure the cold temperatures. however, the food teucer asks for turns out sickeningly sweet and even paimon, the awarded food enthusiast, feels nauseated at the end. finally, he asks you to give the wharf a better look than when he was stepping off his boat. paimon proceeds to give a mouthful of an explanation about liyue’s trade port, which ends up too confusing for teucer to even care. instead, his attention is caught by a ship anchor left in the wharf.

“teucer, don’t run off!” you urge as he takes off to see the anchor.

“that metal hook is huge! and it gets bigger the closer we get!”

“this is an anchor. docked ships use it to hold themselves in position, to stop wind and waves from blowing them away.” paimon explains.

“hmm, an anchor… got it. but i think i might get it mixed up with commodore hook.”

“commodore hook..? is that another one of your weird toy names?”

“my brother always sends me a really big toy for my birthday- commodore hook, blacksteel jack, iron tony… we keep them all in your backyard!”

“are they as big as the anchor?” the traveler asks.

“yeah, and that’s why i can’t bring them with me all the time. it’s a shame…”

you choke on your breath at a realization. “i-is that what your father was keeping under a tarp in the backyard..?”

teucer nods cluelessly. you’ve seen tarped objects behind childe’s family house that had some absurd silhouettes hidden by the protective fabric and the snow, but you’ve only ever assumed they were left over building materials- not gigantic fucking robots because why would you ever assume that’s what he’d send a child for his birthday. you’ll have to have a talk with him about gift giving at a later time.

“but my favorite is mr. cyclops. even though i mostly came here to see my brother, the other big thing i wanted to do was play with mr. cyclops! oh- are they selling fish over there, let’s have a look!”

and just like that, teucer is gone again. paimon stomps her foot in the air as she heaves frustratedly.

“quit! running! off!”

you briefly go to see the fish on display as teucer tells you of the time when childe caught him an impossibly large fish just because he asked for it. somewhere in the back of your head, you find it endearing that childe has kept up the habit of fishing just like when his father would take you on his trips to ice fish as well. maybe you could get him to go fishing in liyue, just the two of you when you have some free ti- wait, what are you saying? you’re supposed to be watching out for teucer, who conveniently has gone off to see the boats and seems to have his entire good mood flipped around.

“teuce’, you look upset, what’s wrong? are you tired?” you coo.

he sighs melancholically and covers his face behind his hands. “i miss my brother…”

“what? but we were just with him!” argues paimon.

“yea, but for such a short time that it doesn’t even count! take me to see my brother, i don’t wanna play anymore!”

you sigh and look to the other designated babysitters. they look back with defeated shrugs- seems like you’ve done what you can to entertain him for the moment. turning back to teucer, you offer to carry him in your hold as you leave for qingxu pool, where childe said he would be, and he gladly accepts. from behind you, a low gurgle can be heard.

“urgh… paimon may never recover from that dish.”

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