#AND BEFORE YOU SAY IT THEY ARE LISTED AS CROWS

[jccatstudios]

I absolutely love your adapting of Six of Crows. What scene would you most be looking forward to illustrating?

Oooooooh that is quite the question. So many scenes to choose from. Before I make my big long list, just as a disclaimer, I'm only planning to finish Chapter 3 right now. Everything that comes after (especially scenes way later in the book) is up in the air. No promises with Chapter 4 either. Also, not including CK on this list because then I'd be writing all night. That being said... here are some scenes that instantly come to mind:

Matthias introduction! I enjoy his character more and more each time I read, and that fight with the wolves he has is such a great was to meet him and know what he's about. Also the scene where Inej trips him haha

Chapter 10: Inej. The Tante Heleen encounter is so visceral. There's a lot of scenes I wouldn't describe as fun to draw because of their content, but they'd be fun to draw in the sense that I'd have a fair amount of creative problem-solving to get the emotional effect across

Wesper tag team fight on the docks

Eyeball scene. Eyeball scene. Eyeball scene!!! Like imagine the impact panel: Kaz's and Oomen's silhouettes, white on a black background, a dynamic arc of blood between Kaz's hand and Oomen's face

Inej's interactions with Nina, Jesper, and Kaz on the boat. Especially the life debt scene

The little scene where they're passing the book binoculars around and Nina makes fun of Kaz? That part is so dear to me

Wagon scene and Kaz's backstory. Honestly, everyone's backstory. I'm a One Piece fan, what can I say

Inej climbing the incinerator shaft and realizing her dream!!!

Matthias's "betrayal." Absolutely legendary cliffhanger

Chapter 38: Kaz. Imagine a full splash page of him so far away, the rest of the page filled with just water, silent. And the feeding the crows scene! The lighting effects are incredible in my mind, trust on that one

Jesper, Inej, and Wylan piloting the tank! Never before have I wanted to draw mechanical details so badly

What would drawing Nina's POV be like when she's on parem? I envision lots of little panels detailing out all the things she can see and experience now

"I will have you without armor" but also the scene between Inej and Nina at the start of that chapter? I forgot about it on my first read, but I recently listened to that part again and it's so sweet

Pekka Rollins. I just want to draw him.

[ghoultrifle]

it's mushy may time, bitches !! thank you @forlorn-crows for the prompt list and general organisation <33

prompt: cuteness aggression

relationship: sunny/swiss

word count: 750

summary: sunny sleep talks and swiss finds it unbearably sweet. it's very silly.

please be kind, i am not very practiced with writing anything that isn't porn. rbs are appreciated and will hopefully mean i do more than one single prompt in the whole month sdjhfskjfhk (feel free to play the game of 'what funky word did i learn today ?' eheheh)

read on ao3 or below the cut :))

“No you can’t delete the watermelon, it’s in the desk!” Sunny mumbles, her mouth partially blocked by the pillow she’s unceremoniously shoved under her.

Swiss awakes, ready to whack his love with said pillow. “Shine, it’s early, go annoy Mountain please?”

“The shoes can’t go in the wall, they’re too hot!”

A smile creeps onto Swiss’ face. It’s a uniquely vulnerable experience, being on the receiving end of a sleep talker. Sunny has no idea what her unconscious brain is feeding her- or perhaps vaguely catapulting towards her in the hopes that something will stick. Yet Swiss has the honour of being there for the barely-formed, mismatched set of words that leave her mouth. He knows they’ll giggle about it in the morning as they always do; Sunny attempting, to no avail, to connect Swiss’ feedback to her hazy memory of the dreams her brain concocted for her viewing pleasure. It never works; the nonsense she spouts seemingly untethered from reality altogether, plucked from a different plane of existence, perhaps one where footwear temperature is a real concern for its occupants.

Sunny continues to lie fast asleep, the tendrils of sleep latched onto the depths of her mind, keeping her peaceful while her brain whirs, stirring her thoughts but not her vessel. She’s sprawled out on the bed. Head to the side and mouth wide open, in what looks like an effort to chew the pillow. In reality it’s acting as less of a neck support and more of a drool-catcher as spit tumbles its way out and onto the floral design.

Swiss only looks on in admiration, the moonlight creating a shimmer in the puddle as it soaks into the fabric. His smile grows wider, fangs catching on his bottom lip. He likes to think Sunny’s body wouldn’t let her talk in her sleep if she didn’t on some subconscious level feel safe with him. It’s a testament to the bond they’ve created topside, inseparable since the day Sunshine was summoned; partners in crime, wizards of whimsy, goofy guys. All silly ways of saying ‘I love you’, which is exactly what Swiss wants to shout from the rooftops.

“It’s not my fault you flew into the glove,” she snarls.

“Is too! You had the map, sunflower,” Swiss tuts under his breath playfully. He’s careful not to wake her when she’s like this but he can’t help joining in on the shenanigans once in a while. He’s imagining a tunnel, for fighter jets- or perhaps drones would be more suited to his skillset- it’s got one entrance and five exits, each one representing a finger on a glove. In his on-behalf-of-Sunny-dream, he’s in control while Sunny’s frantically trying to unfold a comically large map that supposedly holds the secrets to navigating The Glove. He’s asking her where to go but the map is unfolding ad infinitum and before they know it he’s flying through a finger hole (the middle one of course) lest they crash into the purlicue (The webbing between your thumb and forefinger, Swiss, how do you not know that? He thinks back to Aether and his endless list of things you didn’t know had names).

Jolting out of his trance, Swiss realises he may not have been as awake as he thought during his own dream-like sequence. He leans into his weary state, the dumb smile on his face returning. As he shifts on bed, carefully trying to manoeuvre his mate’s hand, Sunny decides she has other plans. A small hand with not-so-small claws abruptly finds itself on Swiss’ face, nipping him ever so slightly.

“I really love him, Lus, he’s always there for me,” she whispers, and Swiss can’t take it anymore. His internal jar of love is spilling over and his nervous system is screaming at him to let some out. So he does what any normal person does and bites Sunny, in the little nook that’s just the right size for him to gently sink his teeth in. 

“It’s a purlicue!” He mocks in a hushed tone, as best he can with Sunny between his teeth, hoping his wave of quintessence is strong enough to puncture Aether’s sweet dreams with a million images of weird hand parts.

In the morning Sunny will admit to Swiss that she did remember the dream where she was talking to Cumulus. She’ll leave it there though because she doesn’t have the heart to tell him it was actually about a sentient grocery bag that followed her around to carry her shopping.

[buggy-samaaa]

Caught, part 8

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Word count: 525

Content: NSFW — mdni, gender neutral reader, no y/n, second person POV, voyeurism, anal, masturbation, misuse of devil’s fruit powers, man musk, pillow humping, auralism

Tag list: @hey-august, @bbnbhm

——

You were sitting in the galley eating breakfast when Buggy strode in, looking in a rush. He went to the line for food and cut in front without detriment. He got his plate filled by the cook and, presumably, headed back toward his quarters to eat in solitude. Buggy hazarded a glance your way and accidentally caught your eye, and you noticed him blush as he shot his gaze away from you immediately. He sped up and left the room.

After waiting a moment to give him a head start, you followed.

When you swung open the door to the galley, you saw Buggy head up the stairs to the main deck, but instead of going left toward his room, he went to the right. You frowned curiously and continued. From afar, you saw Buggy separate his hand from his wrist, which floated upward to hold his plate steady as he climbed the ladder to the crow’s nest. Wow, was he really that desperate to be alone? You hesitated, wondering if you should just leave him be, since he was going to such lengths to get away from everybody… on the other hand, it was a perfect chance to speak to him privately. So, once he was safely up the ladder, you climbed it as well.

When you got to the top, you peeked over the rim and saw Buggy standing with his plate resting on the side of the structure, looking at the townscape as he ate.

“Captain,” you said, and Buggy yelped in surprise, knocking his plate over the side.

“Oh, come on!” he shouted as he watched it fall, then he whipped around angrily to see you hoisting yourself up.

“Crap. I’m sorry. I guess I owe you two meals, now,” you said, wincing apologetically.

“You’re gonna owe me a new heart soon enough, scaring me like that,” he grumbled. “Why the hell did you come up here?!”

“I wanted to see you in private.”

Buggy blushed lightly, then glared. “You’re nothing but a stalker.”

“I’m not a stalker! I was just, uh… secretly… following you.”

He gave you a flat stare. “Why.”

“I need to ask you something.” You stood up straighter, trying to psych yourself up to be direct. You let out a breath. “Why did you say I wouldn’t care if you got hurt?” you asked, looking him in the eye.

Buggy blinked, then stared at the floor. He bopped a fist against his thigh awkwardly.

You watched him for a moment, then rubbed your arm. “Because… that isn’t true. I would care.” You stared at the same spot on the floor as he was. “I’d care a lot.”

His brows furrowed briefly, and his eyes flicked up to you, then back to the ground.

“I just wanted you to know that.” You paused, waiting to see if he’d respond; when he didn’t, you started to go back down the ladder of the crow’s nest.

“Wait,” Buggy said before you disappeared from view. “I… Well. Thanks,” he mumbled, his cheeks turning pink.

“Yeah,” you said with a quick half-smile, then you continued climbing down, leaving Buggy with his thoughts.

[loudestcloud]

So...

Crows am I right?

I bet there is more than this too, I just can't think of them atm.

Edit, I found another one!

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Welcome to my Tuesday morning PSA about plastics!

So--I was walking along the Bolstadt beach approach sidewalk here in Long Beach, WA yesterday afternoon, and I started seeing these little orange pellets on the ground that looked a little bit like salmon roe (but probably weren't). So I picked one up, and it was most definitely rubber. I went around picking up every one I could find, and while I didn't keep exact count I probably amassed 50-60 of them. I took this picture before depositing them in the nearest trash can.

These are airsoft gun pellets, and you can buy them in big jars containing thousands of them. That means that someone who decided that the beach was a great place to shoot their airsoft guns could easily litter the place with countless little bits of plastic rubber in less than an hour. We already have a huge problem here with people leaving trash, including tiny bits of plastic, all over the beach (you should see the gigantic mess after 4th of July fireworks when thousands of people come in from out of town, blow things up, and then leave again without picking up after themselves.)

But these airsoft pellets have a particularly nasty side effect. You know how my first thought was "wow, those look kind of like salmon roe?" Well, we have a number of opportunistic omnivore birds like crows, ravens, and several species of gull that commonly scavenge on the beach, especially along the approaches because people often feed them there. If I can catch the resemblance of an orange airsoft pellet to a fish egg, then chances are there are wildlife that will assume they're edible.

Since birds don't chew their food, they probably won't notice that the taste or texture is wrong--it'll just go down the hatch. And since they can't digest the pellets, there's a good chance they might just build up in the bird's digestive system, especially if the bird eats a large number of them--say, fifty or sixty of them dropped on the ground along the same fifty foot stretch of sidewalk. The bird might die of starvation if there's not enough capacity for food in their stomach--or they might just die painfully of an impacted gut, and no way to get help for it. If the pellets end up washed into the ocean, you get the same issue with fish and other marine wildlife eating them, and then of course the pellets eventually breaking up into microplastic particles.

You can get biodegradable airsoft pellets; they appear to mainly be gray or white in color rather than bright screaming orange and green. But "biodegradable" doesn't mean "instantly dissolves the next time it rains." An Amazon listing for Aim Green biodegradable airsoft pellets advertise them as "Our biodegradable BBs are engineered to degrade only with long-term exposure to water and sun and will degrade 180 days after being used." That's half a year for them to be eaten by wildlife.

I don't know, y'all. That handful of carelessly dropped rubber pellets just encapsulates how much people don't factor in the rest of nature when making decisions, even on something that is purely for entertainment like an airsoft gun. We could have had a lot of the same technological advances we have today, but with much less environmental impact, if we had considered the long-term effects on both other people and other living beings, as well as our habitats. We could have found ways from the beginning to make these things in ways that benefited us but also mitigated any harm as much as possible. Instead we're now having to reverse-engineer things we've been using for decades, and sometimes--like the "biodegradable" airsoft pellets--they still have a significant negative impact.

But--at least there are people trying to do things better, thinking ahead instead of just on immediate profit. We're stuck in a heck of a mess here, figuratively and literally, and changing an entire system can't be done in a day. Maybe we can at least keep pushing for a cultural shift that emphasizes planning far into the future--if not the often-cited "seven generations ahead", then at least throughout the potential lifespan of a given product.

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

*NSFW* The mating habits of Yandere! Animal-Human Monsters

Yandere!Monster men who sometimes forget that their poor darling is a human and misinterprets their actions when it comes to mating. Short drabbles about yanderes trying to seduce their darlings, but the list gets progressively darker the further down you read.

*Warning* dub-con, non-con, yandere possessiveness, dead dove

Yandere!Crow Harpy who was a little disappointed when you refused to move out of your house. You didn't understand why the feathered man seemed so infatuated with you, but after a long while of him begging you to move in with him you agreed, only on the condition that he moved into your home. It wasn't a traditional harpy relationship, but he was ecstatic regardless, deciding that if he couldn't build a nest with you he could at least win your favor as a perfect mate by decorating it. It got on your nerves sometimes, coming home from work to find shiny bits of trash and feathers tucked into every nook and cranny of your home. Eventually the two of you created a list of acceptable "treasure" to bring home, and what you considered to be actual garbage. He spent weeks "decorating" your already furnished house, before one day pulling you into the living room where he had piled every blanket and pillow you owned into a makeshift nest on the floor. His smile was insecure, desperate for your approval as he wrapped you into his large wings, holding you tightly against his warm body before sinking down into the mass of fluffy objects. You could hear his heart hammering against his chest erratically as he gently began placing kisses against your collar.

"I wanted to help build a home with you, so it wasn't yours or mine, but ours. I pray that my attempts to prove I'll keep you and our future children comfortable impressed you..."

Yandere!Merman who couldn't help but feel awestruck by your beauty, often going on long rants about how much you inspire him. It was a chance encounter while you were studying abroad, and you grew emotionally attached to the beautiful man who sang you words of praise. Although he whined whenever you had to leave the beach, the bags under his eyes became deeper as the weeks went on, chronic exhaustion taking it's toll on the merman. Whenever you tried to convince him that his sleep was important, he would only give a dopey smile, responding cryptically about how his secret project was just as important as spending time with you, and that he would have time to sleep once it was all over. One day when you arrived on the beach he was already there, shaking with excitement and impatiently trying to drag you into the ocean before you could get on your snorkeling gear. Deep where the sun barely touched, a huge intricate mural was sculpted into the ocean floor. As your eyes widened in an attempt to take in just how massive the artwork was, following each perfectly symmetrical swirl, two strong arms snaked around your waist with a tired, yet content, sigh. He blew words into your ear that you were somehow able to understand despite the water, as he sunk with you into the middle of the circular masterpiece.

"You take my breath away every time we meet, and I wanted to do the same for you. Please say that, if you could, you would lie here in my arms forever.."

Yandere!Puppy-Hybrid who was always just a ball of energy, a hyperactive sweet heart who couldn't sit still when he was awake. Most of your days together, it was easy to forget that he could even have urges, with how innocent your relationship was, kisses and cuddles but nothing more. As a species who had mating cycles, although he would never tell you out loud, he was always waiting for you to go into heat. But it was taking so long! He did such a good job being a patient boy for you, you didn't even know why he was being so whiny lately, attributing his neediness to his attention seeking personality. But eventually, he took your phone to do some research. At first he was shocked, humans didn't have mating cycles?? How did you know when it was time to make a baby? Then he came across an amazing discovery. Ovulation. It took a couple of months, holding your belly to his face and breathing deeply for a couple of minutes each day, but he finally learned the subtle changes in your scent throughout your cycle. You had no idea what was going on, thinking he was just being extra goofy lately, until he refused to let go one day, tightening his grasp as his breathing turned into heavy pants, grinding your leg in between his.

"Ah.. you can't hide it from me.. I've been waiting for this for so long... Please don't say no..."

Yandere!Humanoid Spider who always did his best to never frighten you. Even when you first met, it was with him holding his hands up and pleading for you not to run away from him in a soothing voice. Despite the lower half of the creature you met in the forest being a giant spider, the top half was such a kind and handsome man that you quickly began to trust him, soon considering him to be a good friend. He was so thoughtful, always raising his hands as a show of surrender, whether he was approaching you from afar and didn't want to startle you or if you were jokingly fighting over something silly. Even amongst humans, he was the one you trusted the most. If you had known anything about spiders though, you would have been more on guard with his overt displays of feebleness, especially after he began telling you how beautiful you were. You didn't even fight back at first when he suddenly grabbed you from, until he bit into your neck. The kind man, no, the monster you thought you knew, wasted no time sliding your pants down as he still held your backside to his chest, chuckling into your shoulder.

"Ah, my stupid little human~ Were you just pretending to be that naive because you wanted me to take you? ❤️"

Yandere!Naga who couldn't feel love in the same way that humans did. As a researcher working towards her doctorate specializing in Naga people and their many sub species, you were overjoyed to meet a small tribe of Naga men who were willing to allow you to enter their home and record their daily lives. There were so many types of Nagas loosely related to snake species still alive today, and they each had their own cultures, languages, and biology. Based on the coloration you couldn't tell what type these men were, but despite not being fluent in their language they were very kind to you. They seemed to have been in a period of mourning before you arrived, and lavished all their attention on you, babbling on in one sided conversations you could only understand a few words of here and there. One phrase they all stated was flattering only for the first few times they repeated it, but quickly became unnerving as they became more comfortable caressing your face and running their fingers through your hair. And when they pulled you into the center of a giant nest, taking turns thrusting their long tongues down your throat and running their hands over your body, trapping you in a pile of cold men staring deep into your soul with hungry eyes, you learned the species they were closest to.

"We need you... We need you..."

Yandere!Humanoid Scorpion who rescued you after a tourist attraction went arry, promising to protect you until you could be rescued. A strong, bulky man who enjoyed holding you (almost too tightly) in his arms whenever his peers came near. Everything was honestly lovely until in the black of night you were awoken by a strange chorus of sounds echoing outside the burrow the hybrids allowed you to sleep in. A blue light illuminated the large home, and as it noticed you finally woke, approached, revealing himself to be the scorpion man who rescued you, glowing with bioluminescence. Before you could ask what was happening, fear struck you like a bolt of lightening seeing a large, inhuman cock emerging from just below his human half. He lunged forward, and you threw up your hands in self defence. Your hands intertwined with his, fighting against him with all of your strength, but the harder you fought, the more excited he grew. You pushed and pulled, but he didn't loosen his hold on you. Eventually it seemed he had enough playing, and threw you effortlessly onto the bed. Tears streamed down your face at your helplessness, but this only widened his smile as he peeled the shirt off your sweaty body.

"There is no need to fear, my mate. As you can see, no one can match my strength. You and our brood shall be safe under my protection.."

Yandere!Humanoid Waterbug disgusted you, from the twitch of his antenna to the flirtatiousness of his voice. The moment you met him on the water of your lake house, there was no escape. Every time you left or returned back home he was effortlessly skating across the waters surface towards you, begging you to come closer. Although you did your best to ignore him, his loud cries for attention eventually wore you down. Maybe if you entertained him just this once he would leave you alone? You approached him calmly, but as soon as you were within reach he grasped your hands tightly, pulling you partially into the water. He spoke sickly sweet words of affection, chilling you more painfully than the cold morning lake water. You tried to turn him down politely, gently pulling at his grip. He pulled you into the water further, swiftly pushing the two of you away from the shore in one kick of his legs, his unamused gaze no longer holding the playful, flirty gleam it had before. One set of hands held yours tightly, while another pair grabbed your head shoving it without warning under the water. You struggled against his grasp, rapidly losing oxygen as you panicked, black spots filling your vision. But before you lost consciousnesses, he brought you back up, still staring into your eyes with cold fury as your lungs felt like they caught fire. He confessed his love again, but when you began sobbing he thrust you face forward into the water again with a painful smack, holding you down beneath him until stopped struggling. In the air once more, snot flowed and mixed freely with your tears as he aggressively smashed his face into yours, fishing out your tongue and biting it harshly.

"There's only one correct answer to my question, (Reader).. Be mine, or die. If I can't have you, then no one can."

Yandere!Marsupial Hybrid you never saw coming. Lost in the Australian outback, you cursed yourself and your impossibly terrible luck. Hybrids and monsters freely roaming the world were terrifying enough, but being in the land where even the greenery was planted by Satan himself? Your phone had lost it's signal about two hours ago, and your jeep died shortly after that. Trudging along by foot, you continuously felt eyes following your every step, and the fear that a giant spider or monster snake was stalking you made you cry for hours as you walked under the merciless sun. On top of the heat and new blisters forming on your soles, you had to use a restroom as well. Quickly surveying the tall bushes to make sure you weren't about to go next to one of Satan's previously mentioned bushes, you pulled down your shorts in discomfort. The feeling of eyes on you hadn't left since your vehicle randomly gave out despite being double checked before you left the city, but your bladder couldn't care at that moment. A rustle nearby ended your attempt to go before it started, pulling up your shorts so fast it hurt. A hybrid with round ears and a lung brown tail with white spots charged into you, knocking you down. His face was red and slick with tears and sweat, his eyes wide and frantic as he latched his sharp teeth into your neck with excitement. Everything was so fast, with his alternating between feverish rambling and biting into whatever part of your flesh he could reach as he tore off your clothes with a desperation you couldn't comprehend. Tears blended with your own as he kissed, licked and bit every piece of you as he fought your legs open, ignoring your screams of pain.

"You accepted me didn't you?! You knew I chose you! Ah, it hurts! Why'd you put your clothes back o-ah! I need you, I need you now!"

[jellieland]

"You know," says Jimmy smugly, "I think second is the best spot to die in, actually."

"Really," says Mumbo, exasperated.

"Yes, I don't know what you're so happy about," says Lizzie. "You barely lasted ten minutes more than me."

"Doesn't matter. Not out first, baby!" He crows, triumphant, to the neverending void.

"And you killed me last session!"

"...Yes, I, uh, I'm sorry about that one. Sort of. Mostly," he says, momentarily cowed.

"I can't believe you people," says Lizzie. "They didn't have a funeral for me. I died first, and you got one, and they didn't even have a funeral for me!" She sounds indignant, but a look of genuine hurt crosses her face for a moment.

"I'm going to be honest, Lizzie," says Mumbo awkwardly. "I think they had bigger things to worry about. I- I think Joel was quite sad about it, though. If that helps?"

"I suppose it's better than nothing." She crosses her arms.

"But- wait, hang on. Jimmy?" says Mumbo abruptly. "Did you say you wanted to go out second?"

"No!" Jimmy protests. "I just think if you have to go out, then second is sort of ideal, really, if you think about it!"

"No!" says Mumbo, indignant. "No, surely third is better, actually! And to extend that logic, fourth would be better as well, and fifth, and- well, you get the idea. Anyway, my point is that I did better than both of you!"

"Hey, don't bring me into this!" says Lizzie.

"Anyway, you're wrong," says Jimmy, back to being smug again.

There is a short silence.

"You, uh. You gonna elaborate on that one, buddy?" asks Mumbo.

"Well," says Jimmy. "Obviously going out first is terrible. Would not recommend. I don't know why anyone would do it, honestly, I know I would never-"

"You're going on my list," says Lizzie, cheerfully.

"Wait wait wait, no, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I really am!"

"Hmm." Lizzie narrows her eyes. "Acceptable. For now."

A few moments pass.

"You may continue," she says.

"Right," says Jimmy. "What was I saying?"

"You were being wrong about how the ranking in this game works," offers Mumbo.

"No I wasn't!" says Jimmy. "Just, let me explain. Now, you obviously don't want to go out first, sorry Lizzie, but it's true."

"I will concede that point," says Lizzie. "It wasn't great."

"But—have you seen how they get?"

"How they... get?" Mumbo frowns. "What do you mean?"

"The people who don't die."

"I- now, I don't know if you remember this," says Mumbo, "But third is a new record for me, so I really don't know how you expect me to know that."

"Anyway," interjects Lizzie, "Mumbo and I have only done this once before. I mean, I guess people started losing it a bit once you two died, but it wasn't that much different to how it already had been. Although I wasn't around for that long at that point."

"Yes, but, it-" Jimmy frowns. "I haven't seen much of it either. But there's something- I don't know how to explain what I mean. Maybe you haven't noticed, but there's stuff with Grian, Scott, Pearl."

He stops, sighs. Looks at the ground.

"Martyn's going to be alone, now," he says.

"Well," says Lizzie, a little acerbic. "You don't have to have people die for that to happen, you know."

Jimmy gives her a look that is a combination of sheepishness and genuine regret. "Ah. Yeah. I guess not."

"So you're right," says Lizzie. "I don't know what you mean."

"...I did feel bad," says Jimmy, quietly.

"You... did?" asks Lizzie. "What about?"

Jimmy looks at her, then off to the side. "...When I killed you."

"Oh."

"I really didn't mean to," he says. "I felt bad. It wasn't satisfying. It was just... a person I cared about. Dead. Because of me. Because I acted without thinking, because I wasn't paying attention."

"...Oh." says Lizzie, softly.

"And that was when I knew you would come back," says Jimmy.

Lizzie and Mumbo exchange glances, unsure.

"I'm good with second," says Jimmy. "I think it's the closest you can get to winning, actually."

They stand there, silent, for some time.

"Well," says Mumbo eventually. "I still feel like third is a bit better, though."

"Mumbo!" cries Jimmy.

"Mumbo, come on, we were just having a moment!" says Lizzie.

"Yes well, look, I really need this, guys," says Mumbo, shifting his weight from side to side. "I don't know if you know this, but I've had a really bad day. It was just terrible!"

"I think we've all had pretty bad days, Mumbo!" says Lizzie, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we all died!"

"Yes, I- I had picked up on that, actually."

"I don't know," says Jimmy. "My day was great!"

They keep talking, and bickering, and the emptiness stretches off into the distance.

It's nice, not to have to be there alone.

[bidisastersanji]

Was thinking about French gendered terms and Zoro trying to suss out if Sanji’s into men and I had some thoughts and oops now i wrote a thing so here you go:

In the early days Zoro drives himself nuts trying to figure out if Sanji bats for his team too or not. He listens in intently whenever the conversation steers the cook towards talk of his past dalliances, but, just his luck, none of the words used indicate their gender. And there ain’t no fucking way in hell he’s asking him or anyone on the crew directly, lest they immediately understand how bad he has it for the stupid cook.

He bides his time, surely someday he’ll slip up and mention something about the people he’s slept with, right? And sure enough one day, at a feast, a drunken Usopp starts asking what people’s types are. His face still schooled into a nonchalant, neutral expression, he does his best to hide how desperately he waits for Sanji to speak up about his type, only to once again be met with more general terms about people- someone with a kind heart, dependable, an equal… he’s so concentrated on trying to pick out any gendered terms he doesn’t notice the weird look Nami throws his way at each new descriptor in Sanji’s list of desirable traits.

He’s always known Sanji speaks French, finding it endearing whenever the cook curses (even at him), whenever he goes into small little rants to himself, or the face he makes when he can only think of a word in French, rapidly snapping his fingers until it comes back to him. But it’s only when they get to a town where Sanji starts speaking to a vendor excitedly about his produce that he realizes just how much this thing, this endearing thing that’s always been there, truly affects him, and his face burns at how different the cook’s voice sounds when he actually speaks it, how enchantingly low and throaty the foreign syllables ring in his ears.

Attached to living another day, he decides that stealing a book from Robin is a bad idea, and resigns himself to ask her directly for a favour. He swallows his pride and asks if she can lend him a French learning book and a dictionary, curious as to whether he can learn it a bit, and understand whatever the hell Sanji keeps cursing and muttering about around him, and what kinds of insults he’s been throwing his way. With her ever mysterious smile plastered on her face, a chain of Robin’s arms retrieve two books from her library and hand them to him. “Do come to me if you have any questions, Mr. Swordsman. My French is pretty good if I do say so myself.”

He’s out of the room, red as a beet, before she even finishes that sentence.

Learning the curse words comes to him unsurprisingly quickly given how often he hears a litany of « putain de merde », « fait chier! » and « enfoiré! » spilling from the blonde’s distracting mouth.

He’s very happily surprised when he learns that French is apparently a heavily gendered language- and that he can glean someone’s gender just from whether the adjectives applied to the subject are masculine or feminine. Now if the stars aligned and the cook would talk about his love life in French…

Zoro starts by going through the basic first chapters, taking great pains to hide and quickly dissimulate it in his haramaki anytime someone walks in on him- especially the witch. It definitely changes his usual routine on his watch in the crows nest, he muses to himself.

Weeks, months pass, and he advances further in the lessons, his vocabulary slowly growing, while he often goes to his dictionary for the more… colorful insults Sanji throws his way. He never says a word of French himself, not knowing how he could even justify knowing any without looking suspicious, and pretty sure his pronunciation would be way off anyways. But he starts to really enjoy it, being able to understand even a tenth of the things Sanji thinks he can say without the crew (save Robin) understanding.

And then Saobaody happens. And now he doesn't have time to think about learning French, not if he wants to get strong enough. Not if he wants to protect his crew.

He's at the table with Mihawk and Perona when his mentor asks for the salt (Passez moi le sel, s'il vous plait), and he executes himself without thinking. A quiet settles over the room and he looks up to see those intense red eyes boring into him, unnerving as ever.

"You speak French?"

"Not really," he grumbles, not wanting more excuses to think of the shitty cook, and his shitty cooking, and his stupid curly brow.

"Then you will. Consider this a natural continuation of my trying to beat some manners into your brutish mind."

Two years later, and he can't wait for dartbrow to show up. His pronunciation may still be shit, but he can't wait to use his newfound skill to his advantage.

With his now solidified grasp of the language, he slowly begins to understand that what he at first though was a mistake on his part- that he must’ve missed a part of a sentence, or mixed up some words- was not an error at all. It turns out, some of the French things that Sanji yells at him aren’t insults at all.

In fact… they’re sometimes downright complimentary.

And that's definitely a problem for Zoro, who now not only needs to keep pretending that he doesn’t know what Sanji is saying, but needs to pretend he doesn’t understand it when Sanji screams at him that he has a “stupidly pretty face” or that his “tits are even bigger than Nami’s and how is that even fair” . He doesn't know what to make of it.

And then one day… the stars align.

It’s another post battle party, and the cook has been drinking a bit more than usual, a tightly gripped glass of wine in his left hand, a cigarette in his right. Zoro is nursing his very own barrel of Ale when he hears the conversation turn to more gossipy topics, as it usually does the further into the night they are.

“Chopper was really into that nurse on Zou, wasn’t he?” Usopp starts to poke fun at the crew’s youngest member, laughing as the reindeer turns all red and tries to deny it.

“I mean it makes sense that she’d be his type! Right Nami?”

Nami nods at him, grinning wickedly. “Yeah, not all of us can be into rich little blonde girls can we?”

“You’re right, some of us are into rich blue-haired princesses,” he shoots back.

"At least I had the balls to do something about it before I left her island-"

Zoro is already tuning them out when Sanji sits down next to Robin just a few feet away, across from him and the campfire, his tongue loosened from a few too many refills and unconsciously reverting to his native tongue.

"Ils ont de la chance, ces deux là." he gestures to Usopp and Nami. (They're lucky, these two.)

Robin smiles at the cook, wordlessly prompting him to continue his thoughts.

"Qu'est ce que je donnerais pour pouvoir avoir quelque chose de plus qu'un coup d'un soir." Sanji sighs wistfully, lighting his cigarette. (What I wouldn't give to have something more than a one night stand.")

Robin chuckles. "Ne sont-ils pas satisfaisants?" (Are they not satisfying?)

At this point Zoro has tuned everything out, intensely focused on hearing what the blonde has to say, and not at all feeling a small churn of jealousy in his stomach for whoever shared Sanji's bed. His heart initially skips a beat at the plural masculine pronoun ('ils') used by Robin before remembering its actual neutrality in this context, as it's referring to the ""one night stands", a masculine word. Damnit. French is so dumb.

"Tu sais bien que je ne dirais jamais de mal à propos des belles demoiselles qui ont bien voulu m'accorder ne serait-ce qu'un baiser ou une étreinte. J'ai de la chance rien que d'avoir pu exister en leur présence."

(You very well know I'd never say a bad word about any of the beautiful ladies who've been kind enough to give me even a kiss or an embrace. I'm lucky just to have existed in their presence.)

Zoro feels his heart drop, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach. He's always known the pervert cook has been into women. Why was this confirmation hitting him the way it was? His eye darts up at his two crewmates, confirming that only Robin has noticed his eavesdropping. She opens her mouth to say something but Sanji continues, the glow of the flames dancing against his flushed skin beautifully.

"Et dans mon état normal tu sais que, par respect pour les sensibilités d'une dame, je ne te divulge pas beaucoup de détails sur ceux qui font l'affaire le temps d'une nuit. "

(And in my normal state you know that, out of respect for a lady's sensibilities, I don't divulge many details about those who do the trick for a night.)

Ceux. That's a masculine word for "those", isn't it? Zoro shakily takes another sip of his drink.

The archeologist's smile widens. "Oh, ne te fait pas de soucis pour mes sensibilités. Je brûle d'envie d'en savoir plus, et ne m'épargne pas les détails..."

(Oh, please don't worry about my sensibilities. I'm burning to know more, and don't spare me the details...)

"Je ne suis que ton humble serviteur...si ça peut te faire plaisir" (I'm but your humble servant…if it pleases you). Sanji's cheeks seem a tad more flushed than before. "En vrai ce n'est pas qu'ils ne sont pas satisfaisants...c'est qu'il ne sont jamais... assez."

(It's not that they're not satisfying…it's that they're never...enough.)

"Ah? Et que recherches tu? Qu'est ce qui serait..."assez"?"

(Ah? And what are you looking for? What would be… "enough"?)

The cook exhales another cloud of smoke, and nervously looks around. His eyes settle on Zoro, and indecision flits across his eyes for a second before continuing. Zoro can feel his gaze, can almost make out the deliciously unfocused expression on the blonde's face in his peripheral vision as he continues speaking French. His heart feels like it might beat out of his ribcage.

"Lui." (Him.)

Zoro forgets how to breathe.

Part 2 up now , and part 3 part 4

[gay-dorito-dust]

doing grocery shopping with the batboys

Could you write something fun and fluff please?

is one of my favorite activities.

I love what you write so much. My favorites are Dickie bird and Jay bird.

Don’t know whether this is fun or fluff as you’d wanted it (kinda went on a personal rant in Jason’s a little bit but I don’t regret it) but I still hope you enjoy it not the less. Also thank you for enjoying my Jason/ Dick stuff! 🫶🦦🐿️

Dick:

You go in for certain things that you need and come out with way more then you probably should. (And most of it isn’t what you actually needed)

Half of the stuff you get is mainly what Dick thinks Hayley might like and she ends up only liking 50% of it…the ‘daddy’s little girl’ doggy shirt was pushing it tbh.

Dick tends to wander off when your shopping together that when you went to ask him a question, only to notice that he was gone, you sigh and say;

‘Dick?’

A few isles over you heard a faint ‘yes honey?’

He was in the pet section. again.

You’d have to remind him that you were only there for specific things and nothing else, but Dick would always try to persuade you into allowing him to get something was wasn’t on the list at all, by battering his eyelids at you and saying ‘pretty please.’

You naturally can’t say no to you pretty boy who acts like a man child when shopping, especially if you’re the one who’s paying.

The shopping list you made might as well have been thrown in the bin with how often you come home, only to be reminded that you barely got 25% of the stuff on the shopping list thanks to Dick’s impulsiveness.

However Dick would only use this as an excuse to go shopping again later on in the week/month and do it all over again without remorse.

Also Dick is way too polite to tell people blocking the isle to move, he wants to, he really does but all he does is breathe in deeply and plaster on a smile before soldering on.

Jason:

Grocery shopping wasn’t a favourite of Jason’s but if he were to do it, he’d rather do it with you because he got to be a little goofy with it.

And by that I mean him getting a little affectionate and pinching your backside and you snacking his bicep and scolding him for being inappropriate in the frozen food section.

‘I’m not doing anything chipmunk.’ He’d defend himself as you glare him.

‘I’m sure as shit there isn’t a perverted ghost here that pinches people’s backsides for fun. Now pack it in.’ You hissed as you rubbed your ass in hopes of soothing the sharp pain you felt seconds ago.

‘Sorry sweetheart.’ He’d chuckle as he kisses your cheek in apology.

You couldn’t help but smile as you could never truly stay mad at your sweet Jason, not unless he was staining your carpets with blood from a night out on patrol, but that was neither here nor there.

Other than that Jason would take the trolley from your hand and storm the store with a determination to get the fuck out as fast as possible.

His long ass strides tend to leave you behind in some random isle somewhere. So to combat this from being a reoccurring thing, Jason would just grabs your hand and puts on the trolley before putting his own on top; Now you were being dragged instead of getting left behind in somewhere with people blocking the fucking isle.

How sweet of him.

(If you’re one of these ppl, go fuck yourself bc what the fuck is so interesting that you have to block the ENTIRE FUCKING ISLE? MOVE!)

Speaking of people blocking the isle, it’s Jason’s biggest pet peeve because WHY THE FUCK ARE THEY TAKING SO MUCH FUCKING SPACE?! FUCKING MOVE YOU LAZY BASTARDS!

He will fucking glare at anyone who even dares to lean over his trolley to get something and when you tell him about how obvious he was being, he’d only response to this was: ‘they’re privileged with the use of a voice, they should fucking use it sometime.’

You’re basically there to calm him down before he bulldozes some poor bastard by guiding him to a lesser crowed isle and get some junk food for later as a reward, followed by your magical cuddles and kisses.

Jason hates shopping but with you it was made just that little bit enduring, only a little bit…he still wants to fight the young couple who wouldn’t fucking move in that one isle and honestly you don’t blame him as you would gladly join him.

[toxicanonymity]

As ugly as he seems. Left in Lincoln pt. 6

8.4k words, dark dbf!Joel x virgin f!reader story master list / spotify playlist / joel master

You would've given anything for Joel to wake up and ravage you. “s’what I mean, baby,” he murmured sleepily into your hair. "Can't trust myself." He groaned softly as his palm brought you tighter against him. 

WARNINGS: I8+, grinding, light somnophilia, thigh fucking, fingering, oral f receiving, P in V just the tip, reader menstruates, angst, pet names and praise, toxic dark joel, pining, obsession, horror vibes. he's sweet with reader, but he is. . . unhinged. NO Y/N.

��---

You were back home in your room, lying in bed looking at the stain on the ceiling when it all became hazy.  You kept staring until your eyes watered and you could no longer see the spot at all.  The air was thick with smoke and dread.  There was shouting outside.  You went to your bedroom window and opened it. The night was dark, but a flickering glow illuminated the scene in your backyard.  The door to the spider shed was moving, flapping violently.  When it opened, Joel Miller emerged in a white tank top and jeans and an ax slung over his shoulder.  He stared at you but didn’t say a word or even nod.

He charged slowly but deliberately toward the house until he was out of sight and a loud crack downstairs told you he was swinging the ax.  At the other end of the house, the shouting outside intensified. As Joel continued axing down the door, you followed the shouting down the hall and looked out a window facing the front yard.  Bill and Frank were in the middle of the street fighting off infected who were crawling toward the house.  Bill was shooting at them. Frank was futilely trying to put the fire out with a hose.  

Frank saw you in the window and shouted, “STAY UPSTAIRS!”

The cracking at the door turned into splintering, then boots thudding up the stairs.  You ran into the hall just as Joel crested the top landing.  His biceps were smudged with ash but glistening and his hair was wild.  He lunged toward you and crouched down, wrapping his arms around you in a hug before hoisting you over his shoulder to carry you.  He carried you downstairs and to the kitchen where he unlocked the shredded back door.  Once you got outside, Joel didn’t stop.  He kept walking away from the house.  Not toward his house, not toward anywhere.  Over his shoulder, you could see the house shrink into the distance.  The shouting continued but faded as Joel carried you away.  Then, with a loud boom, the house was completely engulfed in flames.  

You tried to scream, tried to beg Joel to save your fathers, but you couldn’t make a noise. 

—------

You woke up at Joel’s house gasping for air and heard yourself making an awful noise, more like a murder of crows than anything human.  You sat up and took deep breaths. Frank’s note repeated in your head: We love you so much. Protect yourself. 

Within seconds, footsteps were ascending the stairs.  The bedroom door opened, and Joel rushed over with a look of panic on his face. He was in boxers and a tight, white t-shirt. 

He sat down and hugged your head to his chest.  “Shhhhhhh, I’ve got you….. You’re okay. . . . you’re okay.”  You felt safer in his big arms, but the dread wouldn’t leave you and you couldn’t slow your heart rate.  When you didn’t stop sniffling, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I had a nightmare”

“‘About what, darlin’?”

“Our house was on fire and it felt like everyone was gonna die.” 

He rubbed your back.  “We’re okay, the house is okay.” 

“I mean my family’s house.” 

“Oh,” he muttered and his hand paused for a moment. He kissed your head, then his hand resumed its slow circles on the bare skin above your nightgown. “Oh, darlin’.  That sounds like a real bad dream.” 

“It felt so real.”

“I know, honey.” He held you tight and planted a kiss on the crown of your head. 

You were so grateful to him for everything, but suddenly felt guilty about being at his house instead of yours. You told him, “I should be there taking care of things.  I’m doing a bad job.” 

But at the same time, going back there was the last thing you wanted. It was so scary, so lonely at your house before Joel came and saved you. It was terrifying to think about.  You had to go back, the dream ripped open something deep in the back of your mind, something you couldn’t even discern, but which compelled you.  You hoped Joel wouldn’t let you stay there alone. Of course he wouldn’t, you told yourself. 

“You’re safer here, darlin’.”

“I know,” you whispered. “But I’m worried.” 

He sighed.  “Okay, peaches,” His large hand squeezed your arm and he kissed your head again.  “We’ll go over there in the mornin’.  How’s that?” 

Relief washed over you at the sound of Joel’s offer. Finally the tension in between your shoulder blades began to release. “Thanks.” It was still the dead of night. 

Joel asked, “Got room for an old man?” He seemed hesitant to leave you alone.  Knowing he wouldn’t leave you finally helped your heart rate to begin to slow. 

You nodded and Joel slipped into your bed.  He put his big arm under your neck and hugged you from behind.  He nestled you into him as a little spoon and held you tight as you fell asleep.  Nowhere felt safer than Joel’s arms. 

—------------

When you woke up, it was still dark.  You had drifted slightly forward in the bed, and Joel’s embrace had loosened.  Needing to be closer to him, you scooted back into his chest.  He cupped your breast with a sigh, then curved his body against yours again. His breathing suggested he was still asleep. As he nestled his knees behind yours, the solid shape of his cock sent a shock of desire through you. Its shape and warmth were unmistakable, even though it was all new to you.  Your body certainly recognized it and began to prepare itself for what it wanted.  

You pushed your ass back against him and his body rewarded you with a twitch of his cock. He let out soft noise somewhere between a grunt and a whimper. You pushed back again, and his hips gently pushed forward.  You slowly moved your hand to grab the bottom hem of your nightgown and tug it down so your bare nipple would be against his hand.   As soon as the satin was out of the way, your nipple hardened against his palm and you caught a whimper in your chest before it had a voice.  Joel’s palm pressed against your breast, and he sighed as his manhood swelled harder against your ass.  

You would’ve given anything for Joel to wake up and ravage you, but you knew he wouldn’t.  For a minute, you tried to ignore it all. You focused on his breathing.  Even his breathing was masculine and protective.  You had almost fallen back asleep when he began to massage your breast, and his hips began to push his wood against you at a slow, regular rhythm through the thin barrier of his boxers.  Joel’s mouth was pressed into your hair and his body was actively cradling yours, no longer asleep.  You were throbbing and a warm pool was forming between your legs. 

You loosely tangled your fingers with Joel’s.  His lower body broke away, and for a moment you regretted your gesture, as if it had snapped him out of a sleepful indulgence.  But then his hips returned, and you gasped at the contact of his smooth, bare cock.  It rested warm and hard against you with the head nudging the top of your crack.  

“‘S’what I mean, baby,” he murmured sleepily into your hair.  “Can’t trust myself.” He groaned softly as his palm flattened your breast and the same arm pulled you tighter against him.  You began to reach behind you, but he intercepted your hand and held it against your chest instead.  His massive palm cradled your own hand gently around your breast then left it there while he pulled down your panties.  After taking them off, he wrapped his arm over you again.  

With one arm under your pillow, he backed up enough to get clearance for his ample morning wood.  He wedged his foot between your ankles to lift your leg ever so slightly, then nestled his cock between your thighs, right up against your throbbing seam.  

Joel groaned at your wetness as his erection slid forward between your thighs, and you gasped when the thick head of his cock came to rest at your clit.  

“Oh, darlin’,” he breathed. “I feel how bad you want it.” His arm flexed under your pillow. “Poor thing, all wet and swollen”

When you didn’t respond, he added “s’a good thing, baby.  This all for me?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. 

“God damn,” he sighed and dragged his cock back.  The crown stopped short of your entrance before reversing toward your clit again, and you whimpered. Your belly was warm and tingly. 

Joel’s hand lightly grazed your abdomen on its way to your mound, then rested there. His cock slid back, and two fingers took its place where your wetness pooled.  He swirled his finger gently and slowly. “‘s’perfect,” he whispered to himself.

He dipped his fingers halfway in and you gasped at the welcome stretch.  He brought the wetness to your clit and began to draw circles. With his fingers out of the way, his cock slid forward again, bypassing your tight, wet hole, which spasmed at the proximity. “Oh, baby,” he breathed into your hair.   “It’s too much to bear,” he groaned at a low, shaky pitch. Surely not compared to what he was doing to you.  

Just the thought of him inside you–the thought of him occupying your body–was enough to tug at your tear ducts.  Tears of need.  He slid his cock back, then forward again, and when the tip reached your clit, it also met his fingers. You were getting pressure from both directions, and the tension in your belly threatened to burst.  God, you wanted him, needed him. 

He thrust his hips up against your ass with a sigh, moving his cock a little further, deeper between your thighs, as his hips flattened the plush of your asscheeks. Ohh, he knew how to make you feel good. Further, then back. Deeper, then back. He rocked in small movements, and the wet friction with your clit drove you crazy. 

“Joel, please.” You pushed your ass back into him and your bodies moved in rhythm.  

“Mm hmm, love feelin’ ya, baby.” Joel drove his cock a little faster, and his breathing became more labored. 

“Me too,” you whimpered.  He rubbed your clit as he fucked your thighs.  

“I want it bad, baby. You feel that?”

“yea-I, it’s so, it’s so big.” 

“When I’m real big and hard, that’s for you, baby.” His thrusts intensified. His breath was heavy and warm against your ear.  “That’s all for you,” he whispered.  

“Yes,” you whined. 

He moved his hand back to your breast and you looked down.  You watched the head of his cock appear and disappear between them and felt a new rush of arousal. The head was swollen and darker than you’d remembered. 

Your spine arched and you whimpered, “Joel.”

He thrust hard with a grunt, laid his palm on your mound, and covered the head of his cock with his fingers as you began to pulse against him. He groaned with the throb of your climax and finally lost some composure. “God damn, I wanna fill you up.” 

Your body jerked against him.  “I, I– Joel-” 

“Just, oh God, stuff you full of me.” His breath was ragged.

“I–” What you wanted to say was, I need it, I need you to.  He kept thrusting between your slippery thighs, and kept you pulsing.  Your waves of pleasure echoed, smaller and farther apart.   

You pulled yourself together to ask, “Can, can I feel you come?”

“Wanna feel me come?” he panted as he fucked the warm, wet little pocket so close to where you wanted him. 

“Yeah,” you whispered as he continued to accelerate.  

“Yeah,” he repeated and kept thrusting. 

“Please,” you asked. 

“Go ‘head.” 

He moved his hand back to your breast, groping you slowly but hungrily as he made room for your hand. His arm held you still as he railed between your thighs.  “Oh, god damn,” he breathed into your hair as you cupped your hand around the tip of his cock. . “Oh, god-”  Then he shuddered -- When his cock pulsed between your legs, it was so big, so powerful, like it was trying to push your thighs apart.  A new wave of pleasure surged through you.  You gasped as his hot load filled your palm. His breath was ragged against your hair, his chest heaving against your back.  The warm, white spend kept coming, and coming.  You held your hand steady as best you could as your heat twitched against him and his balls emptied. 

You were both still and quiet, with his arm draped over you.  His cum was still in your hand, but you didn’t want him to move.  Once his cock began to soften, he slid it out from between your legs.  He whispered, “I love you, baby” and kissed you on the head before going to get you a washcloth.  Then you went to take a shower and he made the bed.  

—-----

After breakfast, Joel walked with you down the street to your house.  It felt like you were leaving a safe place.  The broken asphalt was littered with debris from the storm, but it felt less spooky than when the two of you made the opposite walk, from your house to Joel’s.   As your house came into view, you felt relieved that it looked intact, but guilty for leaving it unattended. Irrational as it was, you were also fearful, as if the house might be decaying from the inside out.   The closer you got, the more you knew the terrible dream hadn’t faded from your mind.  The mood of your nightmare followed you and made you envision the worst. You imagined the insides of the house gutted from a fire.  Tall, black sheets, pieces of your life peeling off the walls.  You imagined the insides grown over with weeds and mold.  Then infected. 

The dream made you see Frank’s note differently. Cautionary.  It even made you see Joel differently.  He saved you in the dream, but something felt wrong.  He saved you, you kept reminding yourself.  He saved you from the fire.  

You knew these feelings would fade, but Joel could tell you were unsettled.  He stopped you when you were coming up to your house.  “You okay, darlin’?” Only then did you realize you had tears in your eyes.  

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. 

“C’mere, baby, I know it was scary.”  He wrapped you in a hug.  “Everything’s fine, you’ll see.” 

Joel peeked his head inside the front door and gave the all-clear, then he checked the gardens while you went inside.  You went to Bill and Frank’s room to make sure everything was okay and ready for them to come back.  It was silly, but you checked under the bed, and behind the shower curtain, and even in the closet, looking for anything bad. Something lurking, growing, falling apart.  You felt like there must be evidence of your neglect somewhere but you couldn’t find it.   

While you were in their closet, a gray metal box caught your eye.  You weren’t looking for it, but you were familiar with it.  When you saw it, you had a strong impulse to take what was in it, lest a fire or horde of infected take it.  It had been years since you opened the box, but it was just as it was.  Your biological father’s wedding ring, a custom knife from your mother, and a loaded gun. You hesitated, then heard Frank’s words again: Protect yourself. You took a messenger bag of Frank’s off the closet shelf and nestled the objects in a zippered compartment.

—- 

While Joel was still outside, you went upstairs and packed a few articles of clothing, an extra pair of shoes, and a book in the bag. You wondered if you should plan to stay in your own house again. Joel could stay there, too. It felt foregone that you and Joel would stay together, wherever you were, and thank God.

When you came downstairs from your room, you sat on the sofa.  You recalled the first time Joel came over and comforted you right there. The rush you felt when he first embraced you and the aching throb when you felt him get hard. None of that had changed. You still felt it every time. The only thing that had changed was you. A void had opened up inside of you that only he could fill. 

When Joel came back inside, he stopped at the threshold of the living room and looked at you sitting on the sofa. He put his hands behind his back, jutted his chest forward and stretched without taking his eyes off you. 

He asked, “Ya miss it?” It was a casual enough question, the way he said it. 

“Kinda,” you said.  “But I feel at home when I’m with you.” 

His face became serious and he stopped mid-stretch.  He dropped his hands to his sides and his brows knitted as he approached.  He sat down and put his arm around you.  “You dunno how glad I am to hear that.” 

You nodded, and when you looked up at him, his eyes were softer than you’d ever seen them. A new, gentler shade of brown.  He took your cheeks in his hands and kissed you deeply.  

“Need anything else before we go home?” Joel asked. 

“Nah.”  You picked up the messenger bag and saw Joel eyeing it.  

You thought he might ask what was in it, but all he said was, “Neat bag,” and for some reason, you were relieved.  

You trusted Joel completely but felt better when you were also “being smart,” as Bill would say.  A person can only count on themself, you were taught.  You got the sense Joel would like for you to leave everything to him, but he was only human. You had to protect yourself, too.  

—---

On the way back to Joel’s house, there seemed to be something on his mind.  “Look, peaches,” he started. “I’m sorry ‘bout this mornin’, in bed . . .” This ignited an unexpected flicker of anger in you.  What did he need to be sorry about? 

“Why?” you asked.

“Uh. . .”

“I wish you wouldn’t be sorry,” you added earnestly.

“Well, I’m sorry anyway.” 

Incredulous, you asked, “What part do you regret?”

“No, baby, no, no, no.” He stopped walking and took your hands in his. “Nothin’ to regret.  I just–I felt like I almost lost control.” 

You scoffed. “I wish you would’ve.” 

He squeezed your hands. “I want everything to be special for you.  I’m not gonna catch you off guard like that.” 

You asked, “You’re gonna tell me when, then?” 

“We’ll decide together.” Right. Whatever. 

It put you in a bad mood, so you started walking again, kicked a stick in the road, and changed the subject. 

—-----

That night, over dinner, you asked, “How’s Tommy?” When Joel got back from the QZ, you had been so focused on Frank that you forgot to ask. 

“Didn’t catch him,” Joel said. 

“Oh, sorry.” After eating another bite, you asked, “Why doesn’t he ever come visit?”

Joel finished chewing and said, “I reckon Maria and the kids keep’m busy.”

“I don’t even remember what he looks like.”

“What are you talkin’ ‘bout? He looks like me, younger, less handsome.”  Joel winked at you.  Then he went to a kitchen drawer to get a leather wallet.  He took out a worn, faded photograph of the two of them and handed it to you.  They looked so young. They were both in work shirts and hard hats. Joel was strikingly handsome, but nothing compared to now. He looked happy, but you preferred his weathered scowl. Tommy looked shy compared to Joel.  Tommy’s hair was longer and his arms were crossed, while Joel had an arm around Tommy’s shoulder.

You nodded, “a lot less handsome.” and Joel laughed. “But only because you’re that good looking,” you added. “I still don’t get why they don’t just move here,” you said. Joel had told you before: The farm life wasn’t for everybody.  But from what Joel said about the QZ, that idea didn’t make much sense to you. If the QZ was so bad, why would anyone prefer it to Lincoln? And if the QZ wasn’t so bad, why were you never allowed to visit it?

Joel was quiet, and there was something about the quiet that unsettled you. 

It came out of your mouth before you registered the thought. “Is he alive?” 

“What? Tommy?” Joel’s face changed completely. “What kind of question is that? He looked at you like you were crazy.  "‘Course he’s alive. Bill's stayin' with'm.” 

You weren't even sure why you asked. “Sorry.”

Joel's face softened.  "No, no, I'm sorry, darlin'." He put down his fork.  “Truth is, I wish he would visit. But I don’t think he much likes seein’ me.”

“Why? You’re brothers.”

“I reckon it brings back bad memories.”

“Like what?”

Joel sat back in his chair and rubbed one side of his beard. “Things we did. . . Things I did." He shook his head and looked at the ceiling. Quieter, he added, “things I’ve done.”

You were quiet for a minute.  You knew the answer, but you still asked, “Bad things? Like killing people?”

“Necessary things.” He nodded to himself.

“But you only killed bad people, right?”

Joel crossed his arms and his legs. “I don’t wanna scare ya, darlin’.”  

“Please tell me, I wanna know all of you.”

He shook his head. 

“Not just bad people,” you whispered in conclusion.

He swallowed, then looked at the table as he softly admitted, “Anyone who was in the way.” He didn’t look at you for a few seconds, then cautiously, his eyes began to rise to meet yours. “I would never, ever hurt you, darlin’. You’re the last person in the world I would–”

“I know,” you cut him off and took his hand. 

His brows knitted as he searched your face. 

"Darlin', the outbreak, it changed people. It's not somethin' ya can leave out there, either. If you knew what the world was like. . ." he trailed off.

You didn't talk for a few minutes, and in that time, something came over you.  You didn’t know what the world was like.  You heard that more times than you could count growing up.  You were sick of not knowing.  You might have been the only person left in the world who didn’t know. This was your chance, with Bill gone, if Joel could just take you out, even for a few hours one day.  

Joel kept looking at your face as if he was trying to read your mind.  Then you broke the silence: "Show me." 

Joel looked over his shoulder toward the orchard. "Show – show you?" He swallowed. 

"You said if I knew what the world was like. Show me. Take me out there. Just for a day."  

He shook his head and looked down like there was no possible way, like it was such a definite no, it wasn’t even worth the energy of convincing you. 

You insisted, "I know you can protect me." If anyone could protect you, Joel could. 

"Peaches–"

"Take me out.  Or you're gonna keep saying that for the rest of our lives, I just know it. That I don't know what it's like. Everyone says that."

"What did you just say?"

"Please, Joel, give me a chance, I know you can protect me." 

"The rest of our lives," he repeated, marveling at your words, ignoring your point. 

You swallowed and your cheeks burned. 

He nodded, "That's right, baby." 

—----

After dinner, Joel did some work outside and you stewed–about him holding out on you sexually, about him not wanting to ever take you out into the world.  That night, all you did was kiss on the sofa and listen to his whispers about the rest of your lives.  Once the kisses heated up and he hardened against your thigh, you said you didn’t feel well.  If he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted, you didn’t want him getting you all riled up. When you said you didn’t feel well, Joel didn’t ask any questions aside from what you needed and how he could help. 

When you went to bed, you thought about what he said.  Things I’ve done. You thought about the Red Sox caps.  And you slipped back into your fairy tale where he had done the worst things just to have you. It shouldn’t have made you feel better, but it did.  It made you feel better, not worse.  You knew in your gut Joel wanted you, and once you finally put your bodies together, you knew there would be no taking them apart. 

—----------------------

The next day, you really did feel crummy.  You went to the bathroom and found out why.  You got your period.  You had everything you needed – Joel had stocked your room really well, which made you emotional, and you felt bad for being mad at him. 

After dinner, Joel came in from working outside and found you curled up on the sofa. He came over with two glasses of water. 

“You okay, darlin’?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired.  I don’t feel that good.”

“What doesn't feel good?”

“I have cramps. I just feel pretty bad.  ”

He looked at you then sat down on the sofa.  “What can I do?”

“You’re sweet,” you said.  “Nothing you can do, though.”

“Well, mind if I join ya?”

You made room for him. Before he joined you on the sofa, he retrieved a plastic baggy from the kitchen and offered you a painkiller.  You accepted half of one. Before it had a chance to kick in, you whined wordlessly as you tried to get comfortable. 

“How ‘bout I run you a bath, darlin’?”

“Okay.”

“Bathtub’s nicer down here,” he said.  

You went to get your bathrobe from upstairs and curled up on his bed while his bathtub was filling up. When the water stopped, you walked into the bathroom. It was nice, like Bill and Frank’s.  The counter had two sinks.  The bathtub was separate from the shower.  It was a big garden tub nestled in its own nook in front of a window, with a ledge behind the end without the faucet.  

Joel was sitting on the ledge with his sleeves rolled up, checking the water for you. “See how that feels.”  

You dipped a toe in and nodded, then stood there for a moment until you realized he didn’t plan to leave. 

“Ah,” he put his hands on his knees to stand up.  “Lemme grab you a towel.”  

—

You were still a little shy to get completely nude in front of him, but you wanted him to see how far you’d come in trusting him and being comfortable. By now, you were confident in Joel’s genuine appreciation for your body and every part of you. 

You hung the robe on a hook on the wall, then stepped into the tub and sank into the water before he got back.  You felt less exposed that way.  

He put a stack of folded towels on the ledge behind the bath, then smoothed his hair with one hand.  You looked at him and admired his big, veiny hands and forearms.  

“How’s it feel?” he asked.  

“Better already,” you told him. 

“Good.”  His eyes sparkled as he admired your body through the water then met your gaze again.  “Want me to leave?”

You shook your head.  “No, but – do you have to be so. . .” you looked him up and down and his brows knitted in concern. “Dressed?”

His face relaxed, then he raised his eyebrows and pointed at himself.  “You want me undressed?”

You nodded and he began to unbutton his shirt. You didn’t watch the whole time, letting your eyes drift to the window.  In a way, watching someone undress or dress felt more intrusive than seeing them naked.  He stripped down to his boxers and undershirt, then neatly folded his shirt and jeans and set them on the bathroom counter. 

He asked,  “Better?”

“Yeah.”  

“Good,” he softly pinched your cheek. You wanted those strong arms around you more than anything, but you worried about your period. He was so neat and clean all the time that it was hard to imagine him willingly exposing himself to anyone else’s fluids.

“You could get in,” you offered. “Except for the blood,” you added apologetically. There was only a small diluted plume. 

He cracked a smile and looked at you with soft eyes.  “Blood don’t bother me, peaches,” he said. “Not one bit.” 

“Really?”  

“Not yours,” he clarified. 

“It’s not like regular blood, sometimes there-”

He interrupted softly,  “I know what a period is, darlin’. I’m almost sixty years old,” he chuckled. “Went to non-FEDRA school, too.” 

“Almost sixty?” It gave you a rush to hear and a rush to say. 

“If ya round up. That weird? Thought ya knew that, baby.” You knew he was in his late fifties. You celebrated his birthday at one of your last dinners. But somehow, hearing the number “sixty” was wild. 

“It’s not weird.”  You shook your head earnestly and suppressed a smile. It was flattering that Joel, with all that life experience, loved you. It was sexy, too. 

Joel sighed.  “So, am I cordially invited?” He eyed the water with a subtle smile, then he reached into the bath and gently caressed your lower abdomen.  “It’s natural, darlin’. It’s beautiful.” He gripped the side of the tub and leaned in for a kiss.  Then he pulled back and looked in your eyes.  “Every part of you is beautiful. I’m just sorry it hurts.”  

“Yeah,” you said. “Come on in.” 

—---------

He stood up and faced you, then took off his white t-shirt.  It was the first time you’d seen him shirtless in the daylight. He was weathered and tan.  Scarred and strong. Strong, but soft enough to be comfortable.  He dropped his boxers without shame.  You averted your gaze, but what you saw of him made you even more amazed at how big it could get.  You were flattered to have that effect.

You scooted forward to make room for Joel to get in behind you.  

“You want me there?” 

You wanted him everywhere, but you nodded.  He stepped into the tub behind you and braced himself on both sides as he moved his feet forward.  He settled in around you with a small splash, his thighs gently squeezing yours. He slid his huge hands under your arms to loosely embrace your torso then leaned back against the porcelain with a sigh, bringing you with him.  You could feel his soft package and hair against you. You tried to relax into him, and he kissed you on the head. 

He rested one of his hands on your lower belly.  “You know we got the other half’a that pill, too, if ya need it,” he muttered. 

“Thank you, Joel,” you said.  “For everything.” 

He planted another kiss on your head.  “It’s my privilege, darlin’.” 

He held you in silence, softly stroking your sides.  Soon enough, you really relaxed back into him.  You focused on the rise and fall of his chest under your back.  You felt so attached to him, so in love with him you could cry.  Suddenly, the idea of not having him wrapped around you at any point in your life made it hard to enjoy when he was. You knew you were emotional.

—---

Joel’s breathing became so slow and regular that you thought he fell asleep. You glanced back to check, and he was wide awake.  

“Thought you fell asleep,” you whispered.

“No, darlin’.”  He kissed you on the cheek, then you caught him looking at the water and you followed his eyes, looking for anything embarrassing he could have noticed.  

He used two fingers to nudge your face back to look at him.  “I love you,” he said, then kissed you on the lips.  He whispered, “I dunno if I can ever show ya how much, but I’ll try.” 

“I love you, too,” you said and felt your eyes gathering tears. 

Joel sat up a little, concerned.  “What’s wrong, baby.” 

“I just wanna be with you forever,” you whimpered.  

“Well that’s what we’re gonna do, baby.” 

“Yeah, but. . .” 

His heart rate sped up against your back. 

“What if we can’t?” you asked. 

He sighed and hugged you reassuringly.  “Told ya there’s nothin’ in this world that can stop us bein’ together.”  Your arms and his were crossed in front of you.  He held both your hands, and kissed you on the head again. 

—---------------------------

You were quiet for a minute, but still thinking.  You asked, “What about when Bill and Frank get back?” 

He took in a chest full of air, lifting you on his stomach.  He released your hands as he exhaled. “What about it, darlin’.” 

“What if they — I mean, I guess I’ll go back — I’ll go back to our house, right?” 

Joel was quiet then asked softly but flatly, “Is that what you want?”

“No,” you answered quickly. 

“Then why would ya?” He sounded more confused than hurt. 

“Cause they’re my family.” Your tears began to silently fall.

“Look, peaches.  I know you love’em, but you’re grown,  You make your own choices.”

“I know,” you agreed. 

“You decide who to be with. Ellie loves Riley. They’re a family now, the two of them. I shouldn’ta stopped her, right?” 

“Right,” you whispered.

“We’ll be our own family, darlin’. You and me.” 

Tears stopped up your nose and you sniffled, unsure if it could be that simple. “That’s what I want,” you whispered. 

“That’s what we’ll do,” he reassured you.   

“I just worry about, I don’t know.  Maybe it’s not the same as going off with someone my age.” 

“Ah,” Joel said. “You think they’d have a problem with it bein’ me.”

“I dunno, what do you think?” you asked him. 

“I sure hope not, but you know’em better, baby.”

You sighed and stared at the water.

Joel continued, “I hope they want you to be with who you love. But if they don’t, is that gonna stop ya?”

“I hope not.” 

“You . . .hope not?” His heart pounded under you. 

His voice became serious and less measured.  “It’s up to you and me, darlin’. We’re the ones who decide.  No one else.” 

You nodded, sighed, and wiped your eyes.  The tub squeaked under him as he shifted so you could look at each other. You met his eyes for a moment, and he brushed a tear off your cheek.  He brought a hand to cup your cheek.  You looked down and continued,  “I just don’t see how–” 

“Marry me, peaches.”  He said it softly, but it seemed to echo off the porcelain. Your heart went to your throat as you kept hearing it in your head. You stammered, “What?” and he just nodded. You asked, “How?”

“Marriage is just a decision.  It means we decide we’re our own family, just the two of us, and nothin’ can take us apart.”  

You softly gasped. “Joel. . . .” 

“Ain’t that just what we want?” You were still processing it when he asked again, “that’s what you want, right?” 

Your heart raced. You wanted it, you just didn’t see how it could be that simple. “Yeah, it’s what I want, but-”

“Then what’s the ‘but’ if bein’ together is all that matters?” 

You must have looked upset, because he became apologetic. “I’m sorry darlin’, I know it’s a lot, learnin’ how all this works.”  He cupped your cheek again. “I’m givin’ you my heart right now.” Looking into his eyes in that moment, feeling his skin on yours, you’d never been more sure of anything. 

You reassured him, “There’s no ‘but’. I’m giving you mine, too.” 

He closed his eyes and sighed.  When he opened them again, they were watery.  

“I’m gonna ask you again, and I’m serious.” 

“Okay,” 

“Will you marry me,” he said in a near-whisper. 

You looked from his eyes to his mouth and back and the how didn’t matter anymore.  You nodded.  “Yes,” you whispered.  “That’s what I want.”

He exhaled and choked on a tearful laugh of relief, then he nodded with you.  “I know it is, baby.” He kissed you long and soft on the lips.  “But it feels good to make it official.”  He wrapped his arms around you tight and kissed you on the head, then laid back against the tub, bringing you with him so you were both laid back, facing the faucet again.  

—--------

“So what now?” You asked.  “How do you make it official?”

“Well, I reckon it is, baby,” he said above your head.  Your heart jumped, and not in a bad way. It felt like you were in a good dream. 

He stroked your sides. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

You asked, “We don’t have to do anything else?”

Joel sighed, then mused, “I reckon we could dress up nice and do somethin’ to celebrate.” 

“Like what?” You adjusted your position between his legs.

He lowered his voice. “Like whatever you want.” He brought his lips to your ear. “Whatever you really, really want.” Your clit twitched and you were unsure if the gush between your legs was blood or arousal.  You didn’t look to check. 

“Really?”

“If you’re ready.”

“Now?”

“How ‘bout tomorrow, if you’re feelin’ better?”

“Yeah. . .”

He kissed you on the cheek again, then you turned your head for your lips to meet his.  He pulled back to look at you and your tears of fear–fear of being without him–had been replaced by tears of relief.  Hearing his conviction and seeing it on his face, that was what you needed.  It was just a conversation, but somehow, it changed everything.  If no one could take you and Joel apart, and you felt like you had what you needed forever.  

He moved back to be fully behind you again and let you relax so you weren’t craning your neck to kiss him.  He sighed and his big hands roved your front, one of them coming to rest on your breast.  

His voice echoed hoarsely in the bathtub nook. “I love you, baby.” 

“I love you, too.” 

He pulled you closer into him and his cock twitched against your lower back.  “We’re gonna have a beautiful life together.”  

“Yeah,” you agreed.

Joel said, “As long as we’re together, that’s all we need, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. It felt too good to be true. 

—------------------

Joel held both your breasts with you lying back against him in the tub.  He palmed them over the waterline, then released the light pressure and used his palms to graze your nipples in light circles until they hardened. The desire that grew between your legs drowned out any echo of the cramps that led you into the bath.  

His other hand carefully slid down between your legs.  He fingered your floating curls, caressed your mound, then his whole hand cupped your bleeding seam. He used that hand to gently pull you into him and his manhood swelled against you.  Then he brought his hand up to your lower abdomen and lightly stroked your skin. “How ya feelin’?” he murmured. 

“So much better,” you said. 

“I can kiss it even better if ya want.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“Course I don’t. . . if ya don’t want.” His cock jumped and he sighed.  “Let’s get ready for bed.  How ‘bout that.” 

“Yeah,” you nodded.  

“Wanna rest in bed a li’l bit?” His voice told you he didn’t want to rest.  

“Yeah,” you nodded.  Even if he wouldn’t be inside you that night, you finally knew when it would be.  It felt less cruel. 

Joel pushed himself up onto the ledge behind you, the firm tip of his cock grazing up your lower back, then stepped out onto the bath mat.  He tied a towel around himself, leaving a significant tent, then held out a hand. You held onto him for balance as you stepped out, and he wrapped a towel around you.  You dried yourself off, then bundled up in the bath robe.  Joel grabbed another towel from the linen closet on his way out of the restroom.

“Just the nightgown, baby. Nothin’ else.” 

While you were upstairs changing, he dried himself off, combed his hair, got dressed for bed, and laid a towel out on the comforter.   

—--------

Joel was sitting on the side of the bed in his boxers and t-shirt when you walked in wearing just the nightgown. He opened his arms for you, and you stood between his knees.  He held your hands and just looked at you for a few seconds, taking in all of you. His eyes watered.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he wrapped his hands around your ass and buried his face between your breasts.  He looked up at you and his eyes were still sparkling when he said, “So, so beautiful.” He guided you to lie down on the towel.

He kneeled on the bed, nudged your knees apart, and got between your legs.  He lifted your nightgown up and planted a kiss on your mound, then your clit, before hovering over your body and putting his arms down on either side of your abdomen.  He lowered himself as close as possible while being careful not to put any pressure where he thought you might be hurting. At that point, you were only aching for him. 

He gave you a deep, long kiss on the lips then kissed each of your breasts and let his hips lay into the bed between your legs. It all started gentle, but he was overtaken by lust. He dipped his head to suck your neck, and as he dragged his lips down your chest, his eyes closed and his brows knitted together.   

He lowered your nightgown under your breasts.  His jaw flexed as he sucked the bottom of your breast, and a brush of his nose hardened your nipple. 

Your back arched and your whole body erupted in goosebumps.  He moaned into your skin as he sucked one breast and palmed the other.  His ass flexed as his hips rocked into the bed.  You wished his hips were rocking into you instead.  You wrapped your legs around him and your knees under his arms urged him up toward you.  “Joel, please.” 

“Don’t wanna hurt ya, darlin’.”   

“You’re not gonna.” You tried to pull him up more urgently, dying for his loins against yours. He read your face and cracked half a smile. You must have looked so desperate. 

“Okay, baby,” he whispered and let you pull him just where you wanted him. Oh god, the wave of arousal his hardness sent through your body.

“Can you take off your clothes,” you whispered. 

He wordlessly slipped out of his t-shirt and boxers and the sight of his erection made you weak.  He let you wrap your legs around him and pull him into you again. His hard cock met your mound. He sighed at the skin-to-skin contact and a look of pain spread over his face.  He lowered himself more, pressing his arousal against you, nudging your clit.  You whimpered as a bolt of need shot through your already weeping core. 

“I’m ready,”  you said.  “I want you inside me.” 

“Almost,” he replied. “Tomorrow, remember?”

You groaned in frustration.  “Is it because of my period?”

“Course not, baby.”  He kissed his way down your stomach and put your thighs over his shoulders.  He planted a kiss on your clit, then licked into your seam.  He moaned and prodded your entrance with his tongue, then swirled it around your clit, his hips rocking into the mattress again.  He let one leg down and fingered you before devouring you with his mouth again. You could feel it building in your belly, but it wasn’t how you wanted to come.  You wanted to feel him. 

“Come back,” you whined.  “Please. I wanna feel you against me, like the first time you made me come.”  He slid his fingers out of you, and tore his mouth away, wiping both on his discarded boxers.  

He held his cock as he looked at your body with heavy eyelids. He got in position between your legs, swiped the head of his cock through your slick, and laid his shaft onto your mound.  He leaned forward, kissed you deeply and the stiffness of his arousal was hot against your skin.  You throbbed as he began to grind against you. You ached to be filled by him.  Only one more day, but it felt too long. 

He swiped his cock between your legs to get it wet again, and he hesitated with the swollen head at your entrance.  “Ohh, baby,” he sighed, lingering with his tip right there, where only a push of his hips would do it. 

Your whole body went weak as it tried to suck him in.  

You asked, “Can you try it, just a little bit?” 

“Oh, darlin’,” he groaned.  He shook his head no, then brought his tip back above your clit. His cock slid hard and wet against you.  

“Please Joel,” you begged.  “To make sure I'm ready.”  You held his arms with both hands. "Tomorrow can’t be perfect if I’m not ready."

He laughed softly.  “You want it that bad, don’t ya.”

He leaned over you and kissed your head, then your lips.  Once again, he gathered your wetness with the tip of his cock, making your walls twitch. He pressed the tip firmly against your most sensitive place and exhaled raggedly as you throbbed against him.  He used his tip to massage your swollen clit.  Your chest swelled with a sigh and arch of your back.  He closed his eyes and groaned,  and the distress on his face told you he was hanging onto his last shred of restraint.

“Put it in, just a little,” you whispered.  

“Just a little,” he finally agreed. 

—----

He put your knees up a little bit, then aligned his body over yours and nudged your entrance with the head of his cock.  It felt so right.  You’d never wanted anything as bad as you wanted him.  He pushed the curve of his tip in just far enough to stay notched there as he hovered over you with both arms on the bed. The crown still wasn’t breaching your walls, but when he looked down at you and pushed a little further, you felt a slight burn with the stretch.   

“How’s it feel,” he asked.  

“G, g, good,” you whimpered. “So good.” 

He laughed silently at how much was left to go. 

“Am I ready enough? Can you tell?”

“Let’s see, baby.”  He slowly pushed his hips forward, giving you his entire massive tip and you groaned. It felt even better than you imagined. 

“Just a little more,” you whined. 

He pushed a smidgen further.  The stretch felt like you were being spread open and made into something else, something combined with him. You felt your face contorting and your spine arched with the beautiful stretch. “Oh Joel,” you gasped. “I—it-”

“Breathe, baby.” 

He brought his hips back ever so slightly, then moved it in and out of you in small, shallow pulses.  It felt so right, your eyes welled up in tears. 

“That’s all, baby,” he whispered. “That’s all for now,” but he kept doing it, pushing just slightly in and out of you. You watched his arms flex and his face twist as he kept giving you the tip. 

“Ah,” He bit his lip as he gently fucked you with his tip. “Oh God, I wanna–ohh,” he cut himself off with a groan, then sighed, "wanna stuff my whole self inside ya baby." 

“Please do it,” you begged. “please-”

“Oh, fuck—"

"Don't stop-”

“-i, i–i gotta”  He groaned, then pulled out.  He held his cock while he lifted his knees to straddle you and press your thighs together.  Then he slid his cock between your thighs, right up against your folds.  He thrust into your thighs just twice and came, slowly moving it back and forward, painting your folds with his warm seed.  “Feel–feel too good, baby.”

The pulsation of his cock sent you for your own orgasm. You gasped and writhed and whimpered his name as you came against his cock.  You were hugging his cock so tight, your pulsations beating into each other’s loins so hard. 

He lowered his weight onto you as you both finished. Then he got on his side next to you. 

"I want you to do that inside me " you told him. 

He dipped his fingers between your legs, into his cum.

"Want me to fill ya up with that?" 

"Yeah."

"Leave it inside ya?" 

"Yeah."

He whistled silently, then murmured, "can't wait to, baby."  His face was pink and his temples glistened. 

He kissed you on the lips, then you laid in silence for a minute. 

You sighed and said, "that felt really good, being full of you like that."

"Ohh, darlin'," he laughed. "''m afraid ya don't know what full means." He read your eyes, kissed you tenderly, then whispered, "Yet." 

You bit your lip, then he kissed you again. 

“I’ll run the shower for ya.”  Joel went to the bathroom and the water turned on in the standing shower. 

You followed him, and as he checked the water temperature you asked,  “Am I gonna have your last name?” 

“I reckon ya do,” he said and planted a kiss on your lips. 

—-----------

After your shower, you got dressed for bed again, and Joel asked you to sleep with him.  He dozed off quickly, but you didn’t.  You were too excited.  Once you did drift off, you slept light.

In the middle of the night, you heard a vehicle and urgently woke Joel up. He didn't hear it.

“I swear, Joel,” you insisted, but it stopped. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he reassured you. “Just a dream.”  

He held you and kissed you until your heart rate slowed and you drifted off to the feeling of his breathing. 

—----------

PSA. 💒 According to Joel, they're married now. They just are, that's all there is to it. Only thing left to do is "celebrate" 🍆

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THANK YOU sooo much for reading and engaging!! I appreciate your comments, discussion, sharing, and reblogs so much, I can't even tell you. Especially when I get labeled so quickly so often. I love you guys! I see you in the wild and I'm like, aw I love them.

And if you're new - I also have another dbf!Joel series, non-horror, but still somewhat of a twist (Trouble AU) at the top of my joel master list. The master list also has a virgin section lol.

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All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea@evyiione@xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious@chernayawidow@ambassadortotrilliusprime@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@jasminespringtime @romanarose@fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore@blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires@taeslarityy@str84pedro@lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy@fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine@worhols@fan-fiction-floozy@cutesyscreenname  @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl@feministfanboi@gracieispunk@prettypartyfavor@am-3-thyst@babeincolor@milla-frenchy@switchbladedreamz@within-the-depths@am-3-thyst@may-machin@pedromania91 @sloanexx@paleidiot

@gab-thelamb-onthemoon

[noneorother]

All the music you didn’t hear: The Good Omens soundtrack is lying to you. *Part 1*

The Bonkers Meta Series part 2: Electric Boogaloo.

I so rarely get a chance to misuse my experience in classical music, but here we are. When I realized on my most recent watch-through of the series that the David Arnold score was brilliant, but also really wonky in some parts and I couldn’t put my finger on why, @embracing-the-ineffable suggested I listen to the album soundtrack to compare.

And when I tell you what I found hidden in there, you’re going to need Eccles cakes...

1) The Song is the Clue

So right up top we have this banger. The 12th track on the album is the orchestral backdrop to the scene in the Job minisode where Aziraphale reveals Crowley’s crow/goats. The duration is 2:22 (the only track with multiples on the album), and if you look at the track by itself it doesn’t mean much. But the song just before it is actually from this fucking scene:

You know, the one where there’s a song that’s a clue to a mystery. Except Clue is capitalised, and Aziraphale pronounces it. I’ve seen guesses that this is a reference to the movie Clue, but I would put a lot of money on the fact that we are supposed to read the title of the song currently playing at that moment in the show *as a Clue*, which is super convenient, because the word Clue is capitalized in the track listing. 

Seems like the overlords of Good Omens have a message for us : The song is the Clue. It’s what God wants. Cool cool cool. WHAT SONG?

2) Symmetry in all things 

Before I straight up tell you, we have to go back and look at season 1.

Now I’m far from the first to notice tons of parallels between the story, details and even lines in both seasons. It got me thinking that maybe there are some fun synch-up parallels between the two season’s soundtracks, seeing as they are both 6 episodes long. Here’s the end of S1 and then S2

Oh that’s a bummer, I thought to myself. 

They don’t even add up to the same number, or playtime, and neither of them is exactly 60 tracks. But do you want to hear a secret? S2 is actually missing 3 tracks on the album. And because there are 2 discs in S2 (cute), the numbers of the tracks start over again from 1. Remember how much God likes sevens? Check out where all the weirdness is happening in disc 2 (I’ve added the missing track listings in red to add context):

After checking each track with the show and listening side by side (for reasons that will become clear in another post) I can definitively say that there is something *very weird* going on at the end of episode 4. 

First is track 7, Zombie dressing room, which seems to actually reach over two distinct scenes of the photo evidence in the dressing room and then Shax in hell even though it only has one title.

But *between* these two scenes we get an eerily silent wine date with Aziraphale & Crowley.

There’s really no music or even sound here besides the dialogue and room tone (until after the cheers), and it seems like a very intentionally silent version of a ritz date from season 1.

My best guess is that we are supposed to divide that track into two tracks of 7, before and after the date to get a second track 7. Or maybe the silent one is missing music? The third track number 7 is the weirdest one. It’s this scene here, when Nina parks her bike, and Aziraphale parks the car at the end of S2E4.

If you take a close listen to the music, it’s a jaunty little piece, with an oom-pah base in 3 ⁄ 4 time. The thing is, this music does not exist in any Good Omens album. Please feel free to correct me, but I’ve tried to find any part of any song that this could even be a reprise of, and I Shazammed it to be sure it wasn’t anything else. This song does not exist anywhere except in this scene. (It quickly morphs into a reprise of the original theme once Nina leaves Aziraphale). It’s an invisible song.

So we have 3 tracks at the end of S2E4: a long one, a silent one and an invisible one. Only one of which is numbered 7, but that all fit into that place in the track listing.

Which, when we add the two extras to the original total of fifty-nine we get... sixty-one! Hey wait a minute.

How are we going to get to 62?

3) The real missing track. 

So the real reason we had to go back to the S1 album was because it contains the missing track that God is talking about. Let’s compare the last tracks on each album.

I’ve highlighted the mismatch between the in-show music and the album in S2, which means I had to add A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square back into the S2 album because guess what, it’s not in the S2 album. Even though it plays in the show. 

You want to know how not in the album it is? Amazon had to track it in the show as a season 1 song. They had to give Tori Amos credit for her song on Good Omens in the X-ray bonus features because that’s how not in the album this song is.

So my fellow beings, if the song is the Clue, then It’s what God Wants.

And if God wants a happily ever after with Aziraphale and Crowley on their own side, then by Job, I think Neil is going to give it to her.

-----------

And there's more where that came from! Part 2 coming shortly.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Passing The Baton (Six of Crows One-Shot)

Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: To your knowledge, your crush on Kaz is unrequited. Apparently this is not the case.

CW: Kaz is dumb but we love him

SAB/SOC Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Kaz ‘Dirtyhands’ Brekker. Bastard of The Barrel. Also- your unrequited love. Kaz had caught your eye just as he had caught everyone else’s. Everyone knew not to mess with the Dregs, and that was thanks to Kaz. Before he’d risen through the ranks of the club, the Dregs had been no one. Quite literally the dregs of society- and while, yes, that was where the name came from, it was quite the rise to fame as the Dregs started getting more and more popular, and more and more dangerous.

Even the Crow Club was starting to become a real pain in the other clubs’ asses. 

But Kaz? He’d fascinated you well before any of this. You’d been working at the Crow Club as a serving girl since before Kaz arrived. Not long, mind, but long enough before that you got to experience both sides of the Dregs’ fortune. 

Kaz hadn’t seemed to take much notice of you at first- and why would he? Weren’t you just another serving girl being groped by the drunk patrons? Anything to make a few Kruge. But he did take notice when you threatened to cut the balls off a patron when said patron got a little too handsy one day.

He’d taken you back into his office and thwacked his cane on the table hard enough to scratch the varnish and told you rather harshly to never do that again. To come to him next time there was an issue like that and he’d deal with it… discretely. 

What that had meant was clear only to Kaz, and that was fine by you. But that was when your little crush had really taken off. What could you say? You liked a bad boy. Someone who could handle his own and Kaz could definitely handle his own. Cane or no. 

Despite telling you off, Kaz had clearly taken note that you weren’t afraid to get your hands a little dirty either, something he had an appreciation and mutual respect for. And so you went from lowly serving girl to, well, still a serving girl, but a serving girl who also took jobs for Dirtyhands and worked with him to secure patronage for the club, and Kruge for his and your own pockets. And for Per Haskell’s pockets as well, you supposed. Lazy bastard. 

But you longed for more.

 

You longed for Kaz’s touch, for his lips on your skin. You longed for his affections as much as you longed for his approval. It was a dangerous combination.

As far as you could tell, he did not feel the same way. But then again, would you have ever known otherwise? Kaz kept his cards close to his chest- as he should. 

Today seemed different though. You’d barely made it back from a job and Kaz seemed… angry, to put it lightly. You had no idea why, though, considering you got what he wanted, and made it out alive, too. Win-win. 

Inej may have had to save you, but that was beside the point. 

“You need to be careful,” he said, mouth pursed angrily. “You can’t be making reckless choices and silly mistakes. This is The Barrel. I can’t afford mistakes.” 

You met his harsh gaze head-on and shoved the ledger he’d asked for into his chest with vigour. Kaz didn’t even break the gaze between you, just reached with one gloved hand to take the ledger off you. 

“I got what you wanted, didn’t I?” 

A muscle in Kaz’s jaw twinged. 

“That is not the point.” 

You let out an exasperated scoff, removing your hand from his chest with another soft shove. Surprisingly, Kaz lets the action move him. 

“Then what is the point?” You ask, frustration evident in your features. 

“The point is- oh, for Saints’ sake,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We could have lost you. I could have lost you.” 

Your eyebrows practically disappeared into your hairline. 

“You could have lost me…” you trail off, echoing his words, feeling them out for hidden meanings. 

“You’re a good investment. I don’t like to lose investments.” 

Oh. Okay. An investment. You should have known that that was all you were to him. That’s all you were ever going to be to Kaz no matter how much you wished differently. Ridiculous. 

“Of course,” you reply, turning to walk away. “Your investment needs a dri-hey!” 

Kaz’s gloved hand snatches at your forearm and yanks you back towards him. You re-balance yourself and glare at him, looking between the tight grip he has on your arm and his heated glare. 

“Stop,” he says before forcing his features to soften. “I’m not one for feelings.” He practically shudders through the word. “You’re more than that. An investment, I mean.” 

You stay quiet, not giving him anything to work with here, but you’re surprised he can’t hear the uptick in your heartbeat. 

“Look,” his grip loosens. “I don’t want to lose you. Purely selfish reasons. Not because you’re an investment, but-” Kaz clears his throat and avoids eye contact. “I care for your wellbeing.” 

It’s not an outright declaration of love, but it’s about as close to it as someone like Kaz would give. He’d bared his soul to you here. All the fractured, broken pieces of it. He’d bared his heart for you to treasure or smash into bitty little pieces. 

You sucked in a breath. 

“Are you saying you have feelings for me?” 

Kaz grunts and lets go of your arm. You brush your fingers over where he’d just touched you. 

“I suppose so, yes,” he said, eyes flitting to the door like he was thinking about making a run for it. 

“Don’t suppose it would interest you to know I felt the same way, would it?” 

And there it was. Passing the baton back to Kaz. Passing your heart in return for his. Now it was he who held the power to treasure or smash you into pieces. 

Kaz finally met your gaze, and his lips ticked up into a small smirk.

“Oh, I knew that.”

[hermitscratch]

Joel & Etho - 21, for the writing ? :3

Send me a pairing + a number! || Accepting

21. A kiss to shut them up, Joel/Etho, 957 words

[ Inspired in part by this lovely artwork by @plumadot ! ]

"So I've got a theory," Joel started.

It was a nice day; temperate in a way that heralded the approaching warm season. A lot of hermits were taking advantage of it to check the things off their to-do lists that weren't easily done in cold or wet weather. Etho had broken off from the others for just that purpose, but as soon as he mentioned needing coral, Joel invited himself along.

Which meant a return to form in the shape of them, once again, sharing a boat.

"Do I have to listen to your theory?" Etho asked. The answer didn't matter much when he was a captive audience, but their conversations up until this point had been general, casual nonsense. How they spent their morning, how they liked their steak cooked, what ore they'd most be willing to eat. Time killers at worst, amusement at best.

Joel scoffed. "Don't act like you don't want to know what I'm thinking," Etho felt an elbow land against his ribs without any real force. It might have been rougher, if they weren't currently faced away from each other. Joel liked watching the wake the boat left behind, so they were pressed back-to-back. "It's about your obsession."

"My obsession? Don't you mean yours?" He retorted. Joel snorted, and Etho could imagine the smug grin that'd be accompanying it.

"This projection is getting embarrassing, Etho," Joel said with thinly veiled glee.

Etho rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Just tell me about your theory," He said through a chuckle.

From behind him, Joel wiggled like he was trying to look over his shoulder. The boat rocked hard to the left, and Joel stilled before crowing, "I knew you wanted to know!"

Etho stopped rowing to peer over the boat's edge. The ocean here was deep, illuminated only faintly by magma pockets and the occasional rogue glow squid. They'd made a lot of headway, but there was still a ways to go to reach an untouched reef. "I wonder if I could swim back to shore from here..."

"I'll push you overboard myself if you don't let me get a blummin' word out," Joel griped, even as he fisted a hand in the back of Etho's shirt. It wouldn't do much if Etho decided to move, but the idea that Joel might want him to stay was more than enough for Etho to do so.

Not that Etho would ever tell him that; his ex-soulmate's ego was big enough.

"You're the one stopping, though?" Etho answered, rebalancing the boat and adjusting the oars to continue rowing. Joel's inhale was audible, and before he could argue, Etho urged, "Let's hear your theory."

Joel crossed his arms with a huff. Etho grinned. Joel was probably pouting and everything. "D'you remember what Gem said this morning?"

"Hmm," Etho had to think the question through. They'd been hanging out with Gem, Impulse, and Scar that morning, a lot of things were said. "Mmmmaybe?"

After a few minutes of fruitless sifting through snippets of conversation that Joel might have found noteworthy, he threw Etho a bone. "When we were arguing about who built a better cherry tree, still me by the way, she said-"

Ah. "'Just kiss already', or something?" Etho offered.

Joel clapped once, "Exactly."

Etho laughed, pitching his voice up in a mockery of Joel's, "Oh no, I'm not obsessed, I'm just chasing him making smoochy sounds and thinking a lot about Gem telling us to kiss-"

"That first thing was literally your fault!" Joel argued, "And I'm not thinking about it, alright? There's nothing to think about, it's just a thing that is!"

"What is?"

Joel seemed to shrink, curling forward so their backs were no longer touching. "If we kissed, the world would sorta collapse, wouldn't it?"

Etho stopped so abruptly that he almost dropped an oar. What? "Uh. No?"

"Of course you'd say so, it's stupid how bad you wanna kiss me," Joel scoffed. The turn in conversation was so jarring that Etho didn't even argue the point about wanting to kiss Joel. "But the stir it'd cause would be massive. Gem would explode. Bdubs would probably explode, maybe Grian? Scar and Skizz, definitely, we'd never hear the end of it."

Etho locked the oars and turned around in his seat. If Joel noticed, he gave no indication, plowing relentlessly forward as if he'd realized there was no going back now that he'd started. Etho recognized that habit from their time together in Double Life- an anxious Joel with no other outlet would ramble himself breathless.

"Your mask as well," Joel continued, "Nobody's seen you without it-"

Etho tugged his mask down.

"-that's probably grounds for server obliteration in itself-"

He put a hand on Joel's shoulder.

"-if the first time anybody saw your face was for a kiss like that, then-"

He turned Joel to face him.

And before Joel could say another word, Etho kissed him.

Silence. Bliss. Etho's lips were dry from the mask, and he kept the press of them soft until he felt Joel's stiff body melt, meeting Etho's lean halfway. He tilted his head, and he could feel the flutter of long lashes against his face as Joel's eyes shut. The world kept turning, and Etho let it, stealing a moment just for them.

It only ended when Etho pulled away, leaving a dazed Joel to process what had just happened. Etho didn't bother putting his mask back up when he grinned. "Still alive?"

"Wh- y-?" Joel floundered. Etho chuckled, and Joel scowled, even as a dusty blush painted his cheeks pink. Even as he turned to face Etho properly, dropping his head against Etho's shoulder. Even as Etho felt lips against his racing pulse.

"Oh, shut up, Etho."

[shutuperce]

your fall 2023 byler reading list 🍂🍂

BIG BYLER FIC REC DUMP cause i haven't been writing a lot but i HAVE been reading and y'all need to read these! hope u enjoy as much as i did <3

got your spell on me, baby - @astrobei -Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 7,919

TW: none

'To be fair, Will’s costume is great, now that Mike knows what it is. And, okay, wait-

“Oh, this is so good. This is so good.” Max points at Mike, wheezing. “Because you’re dressed as-”

Will’s still looking straight up at the sky. The length of his neck is very, very flushed. Mike can feel his entire face going redder than Vader’s lightsaber. He clenches his hands into tiny little fists, and says, around a groan: “I’m not Han Solo, guys.”'

THE halloween byler fic. the party at college, bi lucas sinclair content, halloween party shenanigans.

these nerds, using star wars to flirt 🙄

background lumax & their amazing couples costume, el & will power sibling duo!!!

bowie references to heal the soul

all in all one of my favourite getting-together fics for this time of year :)

what a match: i'm half-doomed and you're semi-sweet - @perexcri - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 28,150

TW: guns, blood, gore (just demodogs though no human gore)

'One month ago, if you had asked Will Byers what he’d do if Mike Wheeler threaded his fingers through his hair, looked him dead in the eyes, and started leaning in for a kiss, he wouldn’t have said this.

He wouldn’t have said he’d be staring right back into those yawning dark eyes, one hand on Mike’s waist, the other against his cheek. There wouldn’t have been any lightning in his veins or blood rushing in his ears.

He wouldn’t have said that Mike Wheeler would be tilting his head in the opposite direction, eyes widening just the slightest as if asking permission, his mouth slightly parted.

He wouldn’t have imagined it at all.'

SO SO GOOD. apocalypse post s4, background jancy and platonic stobin, interruption trope x10000 so it's SO SATISFYING at the end.

WILL WITH A GUN.

jonathan & mike solidarity <3

all in all amazingly well written mike and will being blushing messes. love them. fluff in the apocalypse.

take my hand, wreck my plans - @parkitaco - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 6,297

TW: discussion of past trauma

'"I am not taken," he says out of habit, even though he kind of is. He and Will aren't together - he blushes at the thought - but they do spend an awful lot of time together, and Mike doesn't ever find himself wishing he was anywhere else. "Will and I are-"

"Ooh, I didn't even say anything about Will!" Max crows. "Oh, this is excellent."

Mike hides his face in his hands even though she can't see him. "Oh my God. Can you put Lucas back on, please?"

Max cackles in to the receiver, the sound fading as Lucas presumably wrenches the phone out of her grip. "We gotta go, Mike," he says, laughing a little. "Max has class and I'm driving her."

"Tell her she's the worst," Mike grumbles, fiddling with the phone cord.

"Say hi to Will for me!" Lucas sings, and hangs up before Mike can protest.

Mike groans and flops back on his mattress. It's going to be a long year.'

part of a series!! byler college au, friends-to-lovers, background party friendship, AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES. OH MY GOD, THEY WERE ROOMMATES??

taylor swift title... do u really need any other persuasion

the whole series is just AMAZING. mike & will getting a break, living together at college and figuring shit out <3

i might be hoping about this - @astrobei - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 15,321

TW: none

'Will lets out a small squawk as Mike’s hand— his very cold, very freezing hand— finds its way around the blankets and under his sweater. “I’m sick, you weirdo,” he says, half-laughing into the side of Mike’s head, “I have a fever.” 

“I don’t care,” Mike mumbles, “you’re warm and I’m cold. This is nice.”

“You’re going to get sick,” Will tries, for the umpteenth time, but it’s pointless. Mike Wheeler is stubborn and hardheaded and he never does anything halfway— not even this.'

established byler at college!! so yeah i have a love of college byler and this is one of my top fics for sure. 2nd astrobi fic on this list because i love their writing <3

will gets sick, mike takes care of him. need i say more?

silly goofy guys living together & doing silly goofy domestic shit

this fic makes me SOFT.

accidentally on purpose - @itsromeowrites - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 5,019

TW: none

'It starts out with a kiss. An accidental kiss. Because Mike is sleepy and Will is pretty, and who can really blame him? And then there's another one, just as accidental. But the third? Well, that may be a little more on purpose.'

literally smiling so hard at this fic. like hello. soft secret boyfriends and loads of party content, all the kids are okay <3

established byler, how the party finds out. all fluff all the time. jonathan attempts the Talk. mike has no idea what's going on. et cetera.

background lumax, lucas & dustin being lil shits together, and el using her powers to cheat at splashing games. all in all a good time!

and if I get burned, at least we were electrified - anonymous - Stranger Things (TV 2016) [Archive of Our Own]

Words: 14,958

TW: none

'“I’ll leave you be until lunch,” Max starts negotiating, nodding at him as if that’s a good deal. Which—considering it's Max, it is, but Mike doesn’t want to give in just yet. She sighs. “I won’t laugh about the sweater anymore. Or the weak disposition that gives you stupid allergies all the time.”

Mike’s frown deepens, but she wasn’t as mean as she could have been, so he’s gonna take it. He needs to get this out anyways, or he’s going to keep running in circles as if stuck in a hamster wheeler—an accurate representation of his brain when it comes to Will, really. He presses his lips together and tries to figure out a subtle, non-funny way to say it, but he comes up blank.

Fuck, whatever: “I almost kissed Will. Again.”

Max actually has to cover her mouth with her hand, disguising a worryingly loud snort with a cough. The teacher turns their way and stares, then goes back to explaining the exercise on the board. Mike scribbles it down while Max gets herself under control.

Screw his life.'

senior year, post-vecna. the party being friends but also little shits to each other.

madwheeler bandmates!!!

will steals mike's entire closet

they are Dumb Idiots who are mutually pining from afar

and other lovable tropes. takes place in november so good fall vibes :)

[flametrashiraarchive]

Solace

I finished my Reader x Rengoku fic! it’s also on Ao3, but here it is if you prefer to read it here!

(Rengoku x AFAB reader, canon divergent- Akaza doesn’t show up at the end of Mugen Train and Rengoku returns home to you. Mainly smut and fluff.)

Minors DNI

Kyojuro is never quiet when coming home from missions.

In combat, the man moves with stealth and graceful speed which could put even the sneakiest alley cat to shame. But returning in the dim light before dawn, excited and elated simply to be back with you, he bounds toward you with a broad, effusive grin.

“I’m back!” he declares, as though his footsteps didn’t just shake you from the bed.

But you can’t find it within yourself to be annoyed at him for waking you. Ever.

It doesn’t matter that it’s hours before you’re due to rise, or that he and his crow probably woke the whole village on their return. Before you know it, your smile is mirroring his, and you’re crushed to him, not knowing who closed the space between you first. You breathe in the scent of battle and dwindling smoke, and the familiar comforting warmth of him.

Your fingers press to his back, sliding up towards his shoulders, your heart squeezing with the relief that he’s home. He won the battle. He survived.

Strong, sturdy, and real beneath your hands. And yours, entirely.

You could cry; the lump in your throat dangerously close to choking you, but tears would only make him worry. So you press your face to his chest, letting him hold you, rocking you from side to side as he rests his cheek on the top of your head.

You breathe in his scent again and let out a sigh. "Do you want to go and tell Senjuro and your father you're back? Senjuro was so worried."

"In a little while," he says, tightening his hold on you. "My father usually wakes after sunrise."

You can't help but smile. He’s all yours, at least for a while.

“How was it?” you ask, muffled in his embrace.

“Hm?”

You pull your face away to let your voice carry to him fully. “How was the mission? The demon on the train?”

“Ah. Good.” He smiles, raising a battle-hardened hand to gently stroke your cheek. The intensity in his fiery gaze softens as he acclimates to the safety of your shared home. “We prevailed. But it took far too long.”

“Agreed. You were gone for more than two months.” You lean into his touch. And, knowing thanks to his hashira stamina, it’s likely untrue, you add, “You must be exhausted. We could go back to bed for a while?”

He chuckles softly, catching the meaning behind your seemingly innocent words. “I should clean up first. I’m sure I smell less than—”

His sentence dies against your lips as you pull him to you, unable to delay what you’ve been craving for months. And after a muffled chuckle of surprise, he reciprocates the kiss.

Kyojuro kisses like he fights; with every damn fiber of his being, burning you up as he drives you backward, pressing you to the wooden frame of the door and pinning you to it with his body. At once, you’re lost to the world, and all that matters is his lips, his fingers tangled in your hair, and his muscled thigh pressing between yours. Your body reacts to him so quickly you become lightheaded; heat pooling everywhere he touches.

Yours. He’s yours. And he’s home.

A sigh escapes you as he takes your hand in his, and pins your wrist to the door frame above your head.

You could list a thousand reasons you love this man, and one of them is the way he can snap in an instant from dazzling light and exuberant warmth, to an altogether more blistering, primal sort of flame. And you have always reveled in that blaze.

You slide down a couple of inches, pressing your core to the sturdy length of his thigh as you tug his lower lip between your teeth. A quiet groan escapes him, those gold and crimson eyes of his half-lidded as he drops his hand to the opening of your robe.

Kyojuro can– and has– spent all night undressing you and letting your excitement build before granting you release after release. And every time you’ve basked in that drawn out pleasure, trusting him entirely as you do, that the delay will be more than worth the reward. But not tonight. Not after two lonely months of nothing but your hands on your cunt, and gasping his name into the pillow.

“Kyojuro,” you whisper, parting the robe yourself until your breasts are exposed. “Please.”

“You’re so eager this morning,” he says, keeping his breath and voice so level you’d almost think your exposed skin wasn’t affecting him.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” His lips part as he cups your breast, stroking a calloused thumb over your nipple. “If I’m honest, I spent a lot of time thinking about you. About this.”

Pride and pleasure blossom in your chest and snatch your breath, earning you a chuckle. He drops his hand lower, dipping it between the pillowy softness of your thighs.

Where it stays.

Firmly.

“Patience, Little Flame,” he tells you as he takes his thigh from between yours, leaving your pussy aching and wanting. “Let me clean up. I want to be the best I can be for you.”

God, this man. Even after being denied you by duty, he still relishes every second with you, drawing it out and savoring it. You may as well weigh less than a feather as he scoops you into his arms, putting his strength and training to use as he whisks you away to the wisteria-guarded private hot spring at the back of your house; another perk of living with a hashira.

He sets you on the wooden boards at the side of the steaming water, stepping away to leave nothing but the cool morning air to caress your burning skin.

“Let me bathe first,” he tells you, unfastening the cape from his shoulders and folding it carefully beside you.

You’re about to protest that he doesn’t have to; you’ll gladly take him smelling of smoke and spattered with demon blood, but Kyojuro is ever the gentleman. And besides, as his strong fingers begin to work open the buttons on his corps uniform, any protest you can conjure simply collides with your pounding heart and withdraws, defeated.

Because as beautiful as Kyojuro is in his uniform, covered entirely and bursting with pride, he’s somehow even more beautiful out of it. His body is sculpted by discipline, battle, and a love for food; strong, sturdy, soft and firm all at once. Every scar and bruise which marks his skin has no doubt served as a lesson; a reminder of how he could have reacted faster, fought better, improved somehow (and it’s Kyojuro, so of course, next time he will).

The sun breaks over the horizon, casting beams of golden light through the wisteria blossoms as he sets his uniform neatly on top of the cape beside you.

“Are you getting in?” he asks, stepping into the water until it reaches his hips. He turns to face you. “Or are you content with watching me?”

Your face prickles, surely as red as the tips of his hair as he grins and waits for your response. And thank God for the wisteria, hiding you from prying eyes as you sit, bare chested and flustered on the warm, smooth wood, fighting the urge to put your hand between your thighs and finish what you started against the door frame.

He seems to sense it too, his gaze dropping lower, to the epicenter of your aching desire. And for the first time since he got home, you notice his breath hitching in his throat as he wades toward you, placing his wet hands at either side of your knees and pushing them together, pressing a kiss to the seam of your thighs.

His eyelids close as he rests his forehead on your lap, his breath hot against your skin as your mouth becomes dry with anticipation and need. But he simply stays there, breathing you in, and, if he’s feeling at all the way you are right now, torturing you both.

Placing a hand on the back of his head you let it sink into soft golden hair and stroke down the back of his neck, enamored with the way he melts against you as you do.

“There were moments…” He’s quiet when he speaks, so quiet it worries you.

He turns his head to the side, eyes still closed as he rests his cheek against the pillow of your thighs, still holding them together.

“Moments?” you say, hoping to clarify. Your hand delves lower, into the firm valley between his shoulder blades. The corner of his mouth rises into a contented smile. You can spend every waking moment touching Kyojuro and he will never get tired of it. Fortunately, neither will you.

“Moments during the mission… when I was afraid I would not make it back to you this time.”

“Oh—” You snap your lips shut, pressing your unoccupied hand to them to ensure their silence. A weight in your chest presses against your ribs; the agonizing knowledge that this man you adore with every cell in your body feared for his life.

You can’t tell him that you imagine that very thing every time the kasugai crow summons him. Every time you awaken to find he didn’t return while you slept. Every time the sun rises and stains the morning sky red.

And no matter how blissful the time you spend together, no matter how bound to his soul you find yours, the fact will always remain that demon slayers rarely live long lives. To love a hashira, is to welcome death to loom above your happiness.

But you know Kyojuro well enough to know there’s nothing you can say to make him quit the corps. You'd have as much success telling him to walk away from you, or asking the moon to come down from the sky. Nothing can quell those twin flames burning in his heart; one for you, the other his duty to lend his strength to those who need it. Even in a world without demons, he would find some way to fight to protect the helpless.

“I believe in you,” you say, truthfully. Even if your heart torments you with thoughts that one day his crow will return without him, you have never doubted his strength or indomitable spirit. “No matter what happens, I want you to know that. You’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever known.”

"Thank you," he says, with heart-shattering sincerity.

In an instant his hands are on the boards beside your thighs, his arms taut and arrow-straight beneath him as he lifts himself partway out of the water until his lips are level with yours.

"I should be thanking you," you tease, hoping to lighten the mood and help him forget the fear. "You're putting on such a pretty show for me."

Loud laughter bursts from him, and God, it feels so good to see him happy and carefree. It warms your heart to know that you can give him that solace, this man who fights and faces death for people who don’t even know he exists.

“I need you,” he says with a smile, leaning into you and snatching your breath with a kiss before drawing back. “ Your belief, your strength, your warmth. I need you. In every way.”

You can't stand it anymore. Cupping his jaw in your palm you lean closer, bringing your lips tantalizingly close. "Hurry up and bathe, Kyojuro. I'll make certain those needs are met."

He laughs again, although this time quieter, holding your gaze as he lowers himself back into the water. “Beloved, when have I ever allowed you to meet my needs without ensuring yours are satisfied first?”

His touch sparks embers across your skin as his strong fingers skate between your thighs, finally allowing you to part them. You spread wide for him, letting him see you fully, knowing that you’re already wet, glistening with need.

“Mm,” he sighs hungrily, moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue.

He draws closer as you fight for breath, running your fingers through his fiery mane as you lean back and angle your hips toward him.

The wisteria blooms sway in the breeze as your skin pebbles.

Kyojuro begins as he always does, by kissing a path along your inner thighs, snatching the air from your lungs as your anticipation builds. He nuzzles the soft flesh of your pussy with the tip of his nose, and when his lips finally reach your core, he tastes you slowly, eyes closed and face perfectly serene. And he savors you.

He drags his tongue over your tingling flesh, tasting every bit of you and sighing softly as you gasp and buck your hips beneath him.

But soon, any semblance of hashira discipline crumbles as he grows drunk on you. His hands skate over your thighs, hooking behind your knees to lift your legs onto his broad shoulders. And you know you’re done for.

Kyojuro relishes you like you’re his last meal, his tongue voraciously lapping your clit until your fingers in his hair curl into fists.

Afterall, he never knows when he’ll be called away from you. So he makes it count.

It’s no secret the flame hashira loves to eat, and being his favorite meal is pleasure like you've never known. You gasp as he presses his tongue to your entrance, licking a stripe through your labia to your clit, before surrounding it with the wet heat of his eager mouth. His tongue flutters against you; insatiable, skilled, and hellbent on driving you to climax.

"Kyojuro!" You cry out as your trembling legs wrap around his back, holding him to you.

That earns you an appreciative groan before the wet sound of his mouth on you fills the air once more. Your back arches as he pushes a thick finger into you, stroking you inside as he continues to devour your cunt.

His gentle moans vibrate against your clit as he licks and licks, and he whispers a reverent, "Delicious."

His approval drives you wild, lifting your hips to grind your pussy against his face as shivers of pleasure roll through you, driving you closer and closer to the peak of ecstasy.

“M–more…” you whimper.

Far be it from him to deny you.

You gasp as he slides another finger into you, his other hand spreading your folds so he can lick you harder, deeper, while sucking your clit as though it sustains him.

You come undone with a cry, legs trembling against his back as your fists unfurl to press his face into your pussy. You know he adores this, when your control fully snaps and he knows he has done well, that eager mouth still working you. He groans as your pussy throbs and pulses against his tongue, squeezing his fingers as they continue to pump into you, emerging only so he can put them into his mouth and taste you again.

“Umai,” he whispers, smiling as you lay shattered and delirious with pleasure beside the hot spring.

You chuckle as you ride the ebbing waves of your orgasm, vaguely aware of the flame hashira climbing out of the water and wrapping you in his arms. Before you know it you're inside, lying on the bed.

"Are you ready, Little Flame, or do you need more time to recover?"

You shake your head, gazing at him as he positions himself between your thighs. His broad, muscled chest is flushed pink with a combination of warm water and arousal.

He'll wait as long as it takes if you need it, but there's no denying his excitement. He holds his cock firmly in his strong, scarred hand, gently sliding his thumb through beads of clear precum weeping from the slit. He shivers as he gazes down at your semi-naked body, teeth tugging his lower lip.

God, there's so much you want to do to this man, but if the world is kind, you'll have time for that later. Right now you need his cock inside you. You need simple intimacy, his body against yours.

"Now," you tell him. "I need you now."

You gasp as he slides his dick between your folds, coating it in your slick wetness before teasing your entrance with his tip. And when he enters you, there's no resistance; you're already so wet and ready for him. His back arches as you take him all, your bodies slotting together as though you were made with each other in mind.

For every hour Kyojuro has spent studying flame breathing, he's dedicated the same to studying you. He’s noted your reactions every time you’ve been together this way, memorizing exactly where to touch you, the speed you like best, the pressure, the intensity.  When Kyojuro fucks you, it's an art form, and he’ll spend all day dedicated to it if you let him.

That's when it becomes apparent that those muscles aren't just for show. The control he has over his body is almost supernatural, rolling his hips against you, making sure that with every stroke your pleasure builds so that all that's left for you to do is...

"Breathe," he tells you, as if he isn't the one driving the air from your lungs.

But you try, for him. You try your damned hardest, fingers pressed to his shoulders as you pull in a breath.

"That's it," he sighs against your ear. "Good. So good."

Your face grows hotter. "Is it good for... ohh God."

Kyojuro’s lips part around a silent gasp as he pushes deep into you and your body shivers beneath him. Sparks of pleasure shoot through your lower belly as he thrusts. Your grip on his shoulders slides to his broad chest and around his back, pulling him to you. He yields to you without resistance, closing the space between you until his body is flush with yours; hot and heavy, pressing you into the mattress as he kisses your throat.

"Is it good for you?" You continue, not because there’s any doubt, but because his praise and approval only adds to your pleasure.

He knows it too. "So good, Little Flame. You're taking me so well."

You could spend eternity with Kyojuro and never stop craving him.

Basking in the soft warmth of your cunt, his throat flexes as he parts his lips around a desperate whimper, his breath hot against your throat as he grinds his hips against yours. Tingling heat builds between your thighs as he pumps his cock into you, arching forward to suck your nipple between his lips, strumming it with his tongue.

And you know too well he’s holding back. Kyojuro won’t come like this; he’ll have you on top bouncing on his cock when he’s good and ready for that. No, this is for you, and it doesn’t matter how long it takes; the hashira’s stamina is apparently limitless. But his cool is most definitely crumbling. And when he gets excited he gets loud. Every thrust is punctuated by a desperate moan, the feral sound of it making your toes curl.

“So warm, and wet for me,” he practically growls into your ear as he grinds his hips against your clit. ”I was away for too long. I wanted you so badly. I couldn’t take care of you like I wanted to, but I’m making up for it now, aren’t I?”

You cry out in pleasure as his movements become deeper and more urgent, “Yes.”

“My Little Flame,” he whispers. “All mine.”

Your second orgasm spills through you like molten iron as you cling to him, riding the waves of your release.

“That’s it,” he whispers as you shiver beneath him. “Oh, god, that’s it, that’s it. That’s my girl.”

This man. This man and his damned mouth. You’re no sooner back on earth than you’re craving him again, pushing against the firm wall of his chest and angling your hips to roll onto him. He picks up on your cue immediately, pulling his cock out of you and flipping the pair of you over.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his breath coming in short, sharp pants just for a moment or two before he reins it back. “I can keep making you come until you’re fully satisfied.”

“I am satisfied. And I want you to come,” you tell him, lowering yourself onto his dick. Your head tilts back involuntarily as you take him once more.

As you start to ride him, his amber eyes are trained on you, awestruck as his hands grip your hips, not guiding your pace (he's completely at your mercy in that regard) but holding on to you as though he's afraid you'll somehow slip away from him.

You may not be able to fight away the demons which threaten to hurt him or the horrors those eyes have witnessed. You may not be able to expunge every worry and burden from his life like you want to. But you can give him this. You can give him solace in simple pleasure.

And, if you’re honest, there’s something about watching this man melt beneath you. There’s nothing like seeing your powerful, indomitable warrior reduced to a whimpering wreck as he loses himself in you. It’s a power which only serves to heighten your pleasure.

"I thought about this every night," you tell him. "About riding you like this and watching you come undone."

His throat flexes as he swallows, his gaze following the movement of your chest as you bounce on his cock. There's no doubt he's enjoying the view, but it's impossible to resist doubling over to kiss him, letting him moan against your lips as you slowly rock on top of him. Your heart squeezes with the knowledge that you’re making him feel good, that right now, he’s content and safe and gasping with pleasure because of you.

This is one of the few times Kyojuro is lost for words, but words are unnecessary. You know how good it feels from the pink tinge on his cheeks and blossoming over his chest, from the way he loses the battle to keep his eyes open, closing them and throwing his head back to moan as his fingers dig into your hips. You know he’s close from the way he arches his back, lifting his hips so he can thrust into you as his grip on control slips entirely.

You know all this because he is yours.

“I’m going to come–” he whimpers, his golden irises barely more than a sliver beneath his heavy eyelids. His breath blows hot and hard against your skin as his body undulates beneath you.

When he comes, it’s with a cry, thrusting up into you so hard it forces the air from your lungs, his grip on your hips so tight it will surely leave bruises. And you ride him throughout, driving him into over-stimulation as the sounds of his pleasure fill the room. All that power, all that strength and firm muscle quivers beneath you but you know him well enough to know not to stop.

You ride him as he bares his teeth. “Yes. That’s it. One more,” he whispers, taking your hands in his and pulling you down to his lips. “I know you have one more for me.”

He places his hand between you, sliding it down your body until his fingers brush your clit, sliding through the warm concoction of his spend and your wetness. He teases your swollen flesh, the blush on his cheeks growing darker still as you continue to grind against his overstimulated cock. Your legs burn, your pussy aches. But God, you need this, you need him. It doesn't matter that you’re spent and more than satisfied. You need more, more, more, the two of you trying desperately to claw all the pleasure you can from a world which demands so much sacrifice.

Your orgasm tears through you quickly, your exhausted body giving you just enough pleasure to earn rest for both of you.

He holds you. His lips are cool against your burning cheeks, showering you with gentle kisses as his hands stroke lazy paths along your back.

You lie atop him, ear pressed to his chest as his heart beats against you; steady, constant, and yours. There’s so much you need to tell him, and he already knows all of it. You love him, you missed him, you hope his kasugai crow never calls. You hope that one day you’ll see that golden hair of his turn silver and that his smile will never fade as he reminisces about the days gone by where he fought for humanity; days which will seem like an absurd dream.

But none of it needs to be said.

“You’re home,” you say instead, your voice so soft you doubt he heard it.

But he chuckles gently, coiling your hair around his fingers as he sighs contentedly. “I am.”

[tripleyeeet]

GO SLOW (12)

SUMMARY: Astarion figures out some hard truths. Also some easy ones.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,665

WARNINGS: Spoilers for Act 2, depictions of a panic attack, brief mentions of past (sexual) abuse.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: SURPRISE SHAWTY!! Because I was home sick all day and now I'm apparently busy the rest of the week you get the chapter now! Hopefully you like it. :')

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

You’re meant to be focused on the relic —on its discovery and retrieval and potential handoff depending on the item in question. As you walk across the cobblestone, tightly gripping the moonlit lantern, you’re well aware that you more than likely look a bit distracted. Lost in a world of your own as you glance around, knowing you should concentrate instead of allowing your head to fill with thoughts of him.

Embarrassingly though, you can’t help it. Not now, when Astarion’s practically glued to your side, brushing his arm against yours with every step. It’s distracting, to say the least. Creating a mess of thoughts within your mind. Shifting in and out of reality, you find it increasingly difficult to pretend you’re anything but elated over your previous private conversation. 

As you continue your journey, feeling the coolness of his hand haphazardly make contact with your own, your heart swells twice its original size at the mere memory. How his voice, so simple and sweet, told you he loved you. Even now, hours later, you can hear it clear as day, echoing through the cavern of your skull. Taking its hold with each passing moment; enveloping you in a warmth like any other, laying a heated waste to every thought that may try to penetrate.

If you’re honest, it makes you feel a bit guilty knowing that the rest of the group is most likely feeling more anxious than anything else. Resembling a cluster of bundled nerves, trudging through the darkness, wondering what might be next, it’s as if you’re the only one struggling with something else. 

Fully looking at Astarion, you can see the attentive scowl that rests across his face to prove this. The ever so slightly upturned nose, wrinkling in disgust at the rotting trees that line your vision. The angrily knitted brow that pushes together, revealing a lack of enjoyment as the shadows dance around the lantern. Even the frown that graces his lips appears almost too engrossed with the task at hand, making you realize that, despite your shared feelings, he’s more present than you are. 

Upon realizing this, you force yourself away. Taking a half-step from his frame, you shake all thoughts of him, replacing them with whatever observation you find in front of you. Like the sound of a crow echoing through the air or the heavy wisps of wind that hit your ears a little too hard or the looming figure leaning on a nearby epitaph—

All of you stop in your tracks, watching as it emerges from the fog to reveal a smug looking Raphael sauntering towards you. 

Greeting you with interest, despite the obvious lack of trust for one another, his eyes scan the line of your bodies, lingering on each for a moment before ultimately falling to you, smirking. “Through the dark he went creeping and awoke what was sleeping…”

His voice makes you shiver as he begins to recite some sort of riddle, reminding you of your previous conversation. The one where he threateningly spoke of his aid being the only way to release you from the tadpole's grasp. Assuring that with time you’d seek him out again despite all of you agreeing otherwise. 

Even though the context of the conversation seems completely different, you assume it’s the same reason he’s here now, standing before you, rambling on about some terrifying creature through obnoxious prose. More than likely, he’s here to offer you yet another deal —another contract you know will only end in further misery if you so choose to agree to it. 

It’s all devils like him seem to do.

“Strange way to warn us about something,” you comment when he’s finished, raising your brow as he chuckles under his breath. 

“Well, you know, I’ve grown quite fond of you —in my own way.”

To your right, Karlach groans. “Is there an actual point to this fucking riddle or is this another opening to one of your shitty dealings?”

In response, Raphael tuts in her direction, subtly shaking his head as the grin across his lips only grows. “Such poor manners, tiefling. You’d think Zariel would’ve taught you better.”

Immediately, Karlach takes a step forward, her jaw clenching just as you and Gale hold her back, both of you staring with pleading eyes for her to calm down. 

“And here I thought after all this time apart you might miss me.” Regardless of the obvious threat, he flashes all of you a fake frown, pouting his lips for a moment before changing the mood with another laugh. “No matter. I’m merely here to warn you of the dangers ahead.”

“Dangers?” 

This time it’s Shadowheart who speaks, her tone quiet —cautious in the way that Karlach’s fails to be, causing Raphael to nod before going into some long-winded tale of a darkened stage with tired actors. Ones that, if awakened, will cause a great calamity. 

Or, so he says. With Raphael, it’s hard to trust what’s being embellished and what’s not with the way he speaks, moving his hands through the air while he rhymes. Sure, there’s a bit of eloquence to the whole thing —an air of intrigue to his tales but ultimately, it only makes you and the others frustrated. Skeptical. A lack of trust rising through the air as he continues, pivoting the conversation to a lurking shadow. 

Apparently, it’s of Infernal descent, something that piques both you and Astarion’s interest, sharing a look. As Raphael speaks, telling you to kill the creature before it can be released upon the rest of the world, your tadpole vies for your attention. Squirming violently, it makes you cringe with discomfort, trying your best not to let it show as you allow the call to enter your mind. 

We should ask him about the scars.

For a moment you disagree. With Raphael being a devil and all, it’s almost certain that if you ask him a question he’ll only offer a bargain in return. Something big and shiny but worth hardly anything in the long run. But then you remember the timing. The lack of minutes and hours and days you may have left. Already you’re running on borrowed time and you can tell that Astarion’s desperate. Struggling to come to terms with the fact that at the end of all this, he might not get the ending you both believe he deserves. 

Because of this, instead of denying you merely nod your head, making quick eye contact just as Raphael finishes his tale, using the short moment of silence to pivot the conversation. 

“Now, enough about all that,” he says, waving his hand in the air. “Let’s talk about you. I sense there’s something you want to ask me.” 

When his gaze hits Astarion’s face it’s as if the whole party turns defensive. Narrowing their eyes, their bodies instinctively lean towards Astarion, making sure it’s known that any sort of threat will not go unnoticed.

It makes Astarion puff up triumphantly as he clears his throat, glancing back at all of you with hidden thanks before returning his attention to Raphael. “I do. I have a proposal for you.”

“A proposal?” 

“Yes.” 

Chuckling darkly, you see Raphael shift. “If this has anything to do with you wanting to taste my blood, I can assure you vampling it’s hardly worth it.”

As you roll your eyes, Astarion scoffs. “This is serious, devil,” he retorts, a rather crisp bite to his tone despite who he’s talking to. “I have this scar —this eyesore of a creation carved rather deeply into my back. Someone wrote it all in Infernal and considering I’m neither devil nor demon I obviously can’t read the damned thing.” 

Instead of responding, all Raphael does is hum. Low and slow, he takes his time mulling over Astarion’s words, stroking his chin most likely for dramatics as he paces the path, making you frown. 

“Can you help him or not, Raphael?”

When you speak, he looks at you with offence. As if interrupting his thought process is a fate worse than death, prompting you to swallow in regret, trying not to look scared. Even though that’s exactly what you are. 

Considering you don’t trust him in the slightest, watching Astarion so easily ask for this devil’s aid makes you anything but calm. In your mind, you can feel the anxiety brewing like a storm. Threatening to strike you down at a moment’s notice as this hellish creature disguised as nothing more than just a man, scolds you for your lack of patience. 

“It’s something very important to your master,” he then says, smirking at Astarion —pulling him in with tempting words and more theatrics. “But what is it? A love letter perhaps? A warning of your impending room? A contract of ownership maybe?”

Every example he lists off makes you more and more uncomfortable, your stomach churning at the prospect of Astarion’s scars meaning anything at all. 

“I could give you all the gory details. For a price, of course.” 

As expected, Astarion sighs and looks towards you, searching your face for signs of reluctance only to find support. 

“And what’s your price?” 

Without hesitation, he tells you he wants the aforementioned creature dead. Slain on sight so that he no longer has to think about it. To which Astarion looks at him a bit confused, wondering how such a simple task could be deemed worth its weight in information. Especially when taking into account all the slaying you’ve all done already.

“Really? That’s your price?” 

Raphael nods —humming again but this time in acknowledgement. “You slay the best and I tell you all about those beautifully crafted etchings. Sound good?”

It doesn’t. Not in the slightest. But regardless Astarion merely nods, prompting Raphael to finish his end of the conversation, telling you he’ll be in touch before evaporating into a thick fog of smoke.

As soon as he’s gone you can feel the breath returning to your chest. All the past anxieties slipping into something a bit more manageable as you reach for Astarion’s arm, earning yourself a look of frustration that everyone else opts to ignore. 

“You okay?”

You see him swallow as he looks away, turning his attention to the entrance of the mausoleum you now find yourselves in front of. “I’m fine.” 

“Yes, but are you okay?”

It’s obvious then he doesn’t know how to answer. Now that he’s one step closer to finding out the truth of this thing that’s haunted him for so long, you can tell he’s nervous. Apprehensive in a way that has him debating whether or not he truly wants to know. You can see it plainly in his eyes —the way they dart around in circles, searching for something neither of you has the answers to. 

Sensing this, the rest of the party moves ahead silently, glancing at you from afar as they stop at the run-down building’s entrance, allowing you a moment to yourselves. 

“It’s a lot to take in,” you remind him then, squeezing his arm. 

Beneath your touch he tenses, signalling you to pull away as quickly as you can, fearing he may not like it. 

“There’s always something in the way, isn’t there?” he grumbles, gritting his teeth in frustration. 

Sighing, you nod your head. “Unfortunately.” 

“I mean, honestly, you’d think for once the universe would allow me a moment of goddamn peace but no, I have to work for it —to become a slave and do the bidding of someone else yet again!”

His frustrations are rational. Justifiable even, when you take into account all that he’s suffered. After everything, he deserves to be thrown some kind of bone. Even one as little as this, and more than anything you wish you could do that for him. 

Instead of merely supporting him on yet another perilous journey to earn the bare minimum you wish you could give him everything. The key to his past —the gift of his future. If you could, anything and everything under the sun would be plucked from its rightful place and put into his open hand without a second thought. You’d will the stars to fall without warning if he wanted them. Lasso the moon and drag it down just so he could see it clearer each night. Hell, you’d even rip the sky itself down if it meant you could prove to him just how much he deserves.

Unfortunately, though, you’re not nearly powerful enough to do anything like that, so instead you merely set the lantern down on the ground and offer your hand. Palm up into the air, you shove it between you with a sombre smile, watching Astarion glance between it and your face, inevitably taking it. 

“I don’t need your pity, you know.” 

“It’s not pity.”

“Fine, your sympathies then.” 

“Alright.”

A part of you knows he’s being stubborn just to guard himself. A tactic he often uses so that his vulnerabilities may remain hidden. It’s something you’re often guilty of yourself —avoiding conflicts in the form of jokes or comments said only to distract. 

Unfortunately, because of this, it means that you can see right through him. As you move your other hand to flip over his, trailing patterns across the lines of his palm, you can feel the fear that strikes his heart. The thoughts inside his head pulsating with all the potentials of where this newfound information can lead you.  

Neither of you know, but it’s apparent then that regardless of what it is, it easily has the ability to change the trajectory of everything. Depending on the severity, the more unwilling you know Astarion will be to continue with the group. If it’s dire, more than likely, he’ll try to venture off on his own to solve the issue. Especially if it results in enacting some form of revenge. 

Because despite his growing fondness for the group you find yourselves in, he’s still Astarion at his core. And you know that means there’s an inherent selfishness that sits dormant, waiting for the right moment to abandon the world to get what he wants.

You don’t blame him for it. Not after everything he’s been through. Not after countless years of seduction and starvation and a solitude meant only for the dead. At the bare minimum, he deserves the chance to erase all of that in the form of raw revenge. Whether it’s through betrayal or murder or whatever may linger in between. 

Regardless of all that, he deserves closure. Even in its impurest form, he’s earned the right to do whatever the fuck he wants because it’s his choice. His decision. If he wants to leave —to abandon the party for greater things, so be it. You won’t stop him. However, you will offer him your hand.

“I’m with you. Whatever happens.”

As you speak, you continue to stroke his hand, repeating the routes of your index finger over and over again until you can feel him relax in your palm. Until you know that the frustrations that he feels are pushing themselves to the back of his mind, making way for your presence. 

“It’s rather foolish of you, you know.”

You raise your brow at him. 

“To fall for a vampire. To promise him things you may not be able to fulfill.” 

Despite knowing he’s right you merely smile and look back down at his hand. “I never claimed to be smart, did I?”

“No, I suppose not.” 

You move your thumb across his palm, gripping it gently with your other hand as you pull it up to your face. “I’m pretty good with a sword though,” you offer, kissing the centre, feeling it curl around your chin, his own thumb trail past your cheek. 

“I know, I’ve seen you.” 

“So you’re aware of my talents.”

He snorts and leans in without another word, capturing your lips in a soft kiss that has you humming against him until suddenly it’s over far quicker than you’d like. 

“You know, the plan was never to have this happen.” 

His hand remains firmly on your chin. Thumbing your bottom lip it pushes it down to reveal your teeth before springing back up when he moves his digit elsewhere.  

“Have what happen?”

“This,” he says. “Us. We —I was meant to merely seduce you. Manipulate you into trusting me so that you’d never turn on me.” 

There’s an awkward pause that quickly fills with nervous laughter. Ripping through his throat, it’s there and gone before you can even react to it, making you swallow hard as he continues his confession, telling you how easy it was supposed to be. How instinctive it felt to flirt with the idea of you while you fully fell for his charms. 

“All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was not fall for you,” he tells you, earnestly —looking at you with eyes so heavily filled with guilt that, as he confesses further, all you can do is stand there, panicking. Praying to whatever Gods may hear you that at the end of this, he doesn’t retract all the words he previously said just to spare you from helping him accomplish the impossible. 

“I swear if you—“

“That’s where my plan fell apart, you know,” he cuts you off, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “When I realized how incredible you are. How caring and funny and—and smart you are. I didn’t stand a chance. Not with the way you take the time to listen. Or the way you defend my honour even though I never ask. Or how you have the ability to make me smile when all I want to do is scream.”

All you can feel is the breath of his words hitting your face. The sensation of air pluming across your skin, forcing you to blink and breathe and carry on as silently as possible. 

“You deserve to have the kind of love you selflessly offer me every day.”

Slowly, his hands move to cup either side of your face, pulling you further in despite how close you already are. 

“I want to give you that —to give you something real. But I’ll be honest, I don’t know how to do that.”

There’s a part of you that feels like you’re shattering then, hearing those last few words, unaware of the implication. Considering it’s such an open statement, as you remain still beneath his touch, trying to explore his face for clues, the only thing you can think of is the worst. How instead of loving you, he’ll leave and die by Cazador’s hand. How as a result you’ll be one member short and fall to the Absolute. How everything will have been for nothing. 

Breathing hard, you assume his next few words will be the worst words you’ll ever hear, so when he eventually opens his mouth, preparing to speak further, you can’t help but close your eyes. 

“Being close to someone —experiencing intimacy— it’s something I did to lure people in for him, so it’s tainted in a way. Still brings up those feelings of disgust and loathing, despite what we have being different,” he confesses, forcing your eyes to reopen and see the almost wild look in his eyes. 

“I don’t know how to be with someone else. How to offer them what they need —how to let them in the way I know I should. No matter how hard I try.”

At that point, it feels like he’s searching for answers. Begging for you to tell him what to do next —knowing it’s all he’s ever known. 

Because of this, all you do is offer him a smile, reaching up to grab his face back, tentatively feeling the skin through the nerves that shake beneath the pads of your fingers. “So, what happens next?”

“Next?”

You nod, watching his expression change, telling you he doesn’t quite understand the question as he blinks back tears, glancing away while clearing his throat. 

“I, uh, I suppose I don’t know. It’s been so long since I’ve had to decide what I wanted.”

“That’s okay.” 

He opens his mouth to respond but all that comes out is a soft crackling of sound, signalling even more uncertainty until he’s pulling away and avoiding your gaze, panicking at the prospect of having to choose. A newfound agitation flowing throughout his features as you attempt to call him back in, whispering his name like a prayer.

At first, he’s completely hostile, pushing air rapidly through his nose as his eyes flicker through the trees. At one point he wobbles from side to side, shifting the weight of his feet so carelessly that you move your hands in front of you, waiting for him to drop. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t though. Instead, all he does is ride the hysteria of his emotions, eventually looking to you for the kind of guidance you’re more than willing to give him. 

Once again taking his hands —cautiously this time— you etch those same patterns into his hand, using your thumb to trace every line you see, telling him he’s okay. That you’re here and he’s safe and that you love him, despite everything. 

Barely above a whisper, you tell him that his feelings are valid. That he’s allowed to take the time to process. That admitting that he loves you doesn’t mean there has to be this automatic shift into something new.

“We can just love each other,” you tell him, smiling. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want. We can take it slow.” 

That seems to calm him down enough for him to nod his head and reciprocate the contact of your hands with a short squeeze. Both of which make your heart swell in a sort of sad understanding as you silently offer him a hug, feeling him roughly wrap around you as he tells you he loves you again. 

-

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