#Seaside Beta

[ljaesch]

Glacier Bay Books Announces New Licenses

Glacier Bay Books Announces New Licenses

Glacier Bay Books has announced that it will release Shinnosuke Saika’s One Strange Day manga, ohuton’s Seaside Beta manga, Tokushige Kawakatsu’s The Cursed Body manga, and Aoi Mukoubi’s To The Sea manga. One Strange Day will launch in late 2022 or early 2023. The manga is described as: One Strange Day sees Mato and two of their classmates end up back at the health clinic with a case of stomach…

[orb-the-watchman]

Ngl I'm feeling bad for taking such a long break away from BotSE. I haven't been feeling the main comic story lately but I really want to expand on other parts of the universe- like Wambus and Gyiel growing up in the Triplicate more. But also I really want to make comics again. world is a fuck

I haven't even like...gotten into the meat of the comic yet. Which kinda sucks that I'm starting to lose steam, I did too much set up I think with the first three chapters. I'm also just starting to lose confidence in the quality of my main story.

THIS ISN'T ME SAYING IM ABONDONING BOTSE btw. I really don't want to, I'm just in a bit of a writing slump right now with it

[bradshawssugarbaby]

High On Lovin' You - Bob Floyd x Reader

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic inspired by a dream I had the other day, not beta read and may have some errors? I tried y'all. also inspired by h.o.l.y. by florida georgia line

pairing: bob floyd x wife! reader

warnings/content: bob as a dad, mentions of pregnancy, breeding kink, p in v, creampie, smut, fingering.

word count: 2.1k

The Californian breeze was warm and refreshing as it blew in off the coast of Coronado, brushing against your skin. You followed Bob up the brick-laden steps of Rooster’s seaside home, your daughter, Sunday, balancing on Bob’s hip as he jogged up the steps. You couldn’t help but admire the way he managed to make something as mundane as running up a couple of steps holding a baby effortlessly attractive.

His sandy coloured hair had been brushed back slightly, a change from his normal, military-approved style, and his wire framed glasses had been replaced with a pair of prescription aviator sunglasses. His baby blue polo shirt hugged his figure, accentuating his toned chest, his biceps flexing against the sleeve of the shirt as he held Sunday. He’d dressed her this morning, in a baby blue gingham dress that matched the hue of his shirt perfectly, with her curly blonde hair pulled back off her forehead with a coordinating headband, adorned with a bow.

“You ready to go see Uncle Roo, Sunny?” Bob cooed at your daughter, stroking her cheek gently with his index finger as he spoke to her.

Sunday giggled and cooed at her father as the three of you walked around to the side gate of the house. Bob reached around over the gate door to unlatch it, and as you watched him, you couldn’t help but notice that his normally slender build was appearing more and more muscular and toned. You knew that Bob had been spending a lot more time with Rooster lately, and by extension, Hangman, who’d convinced all the guys to start hitting the gym with him before trainings under the guise of “team-building” but you were convinced it was because he didn’t want to work out alone anymore. The gym sessions combined with carrying an almost toddler around were enough to have an impact on Bob’s upper body strength.

Bob looked over to you for a moment, flashing you a smile before walking up to Rooster with a firm handshake and a hug. Bob set Sunday down on the grass to play, watching as she started playing. He’d insisted on giving you a break for the day, feeling guilty for spending the last week and a half working overtime and putting in longer hours as they trained for an upcoming mission. You knew there was no use in arguing with him about it, and the extra time spent with Sunday meant the world to him. Besides that, something about seeing Bob take on the role of doting dad was driving you crazy with arousal, and you were going to make sure you did something about it later tonight.

“Sunday, come here, honey!” Bob called as he chased after your now very active and mobile 11 month old daughter. 

Later that night, you watched as your husband whispered goodnight to your baby daughter over the monitor on your phone, your heart fluttering at the sight of him leaning his tall, slender frame down to kiss his little girl on the forehead, murmuring sweet sayings to her that were barely audible over the noise of the sound machine that was playing.

 “Ok, I think Sunday’s finally gone down for the night. They aren’t kidding when they say that sleep regressions are the worst, are they?” Bob chuckled as he bounded down the stairs, shaking his head as he gently wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in tightly towards his body. 

“Have I told you yet that you’re the best husband in the world?” 

“You might have mentioned it earlier when she spat up on my shirt right before Rooster’s party for his promotion, but I’d be ok with hearing it again.” 

A cocksure grin appeared on Bob’s face as he nuzzled into your neck, placing soft, gentle kisses against the curvature of your body. A soft, surprised moan fell from your lips as his mouth made contact with your skin, but that was all the encouragement Bob needed to start kissing a trail from the top of your shoulder up to your ear. His movements were playful and light-hearted, but he knew that was what drove you wild. His hands caressed at your waist, sliding down to your hips as he pulled you in closer to him with a gentle yank, the curves of your ass now pressed firmly against his body. You could feel the fabric of his dress pants beginning to tighten against you as he began hiking up the skirt of your dress, giving your ass a firm squeeze.

“Bobby!” You giggled, shaking your head as you felt your heart race as if this was your first time being intimate with him. 

That was the thing you loved about Bob, he made every time feel as great as the first - the passion, love and excitement of when you’d spent your first night together, recaptured as if it was happening all over again. Bob had always been a passionate lover - your first night together he’d sheepishly confessed to you that he’d only ever had one girlfriend before, and he dated her throughout his high school years until he graduated and left for the Naval academy at 18. He’d been worried that his lack of variety in the field had made him inadequate, and he assured you that, if there was anything he was doing that you wanted him to do differently, he’d learn it for you. It’d been nothing short of perfect - you teased him that he must have been reading Cosmopolitan or something to know all the right places to touch you and kiss you, to which he just shrugged, pushing his glasses up on his nose with a grin.

Since that day, it was clear to you that Bob was a people pleaser, and there was no one on earth who he wanted to please more than you.

“You looked so hot in that dress today, babe. You’re stunning, you know that?” He purred into your ear as he continued to run his hands along your body, his breath hot on your neck as he spoke in that low, seductive tone he knew drove you crazy.

“Robert Floyd, you’re pushing it,” you teased, shaking your head.

“Now, now, darlin’, that’s Lieutenant Commander Robert Floyd. If you’re gonna use my full name, better be using that rank too, got it, pretty girl?”

You gave Bob a mock salute, a shit-eating grin on your face as you looked at him. Bob pulled you in closer, holding your hips firmly against him, your dress hiked up to your midsection as he gave your sides a gentle squeeze, his fingers digging into your flesh ever-so-slightly as he held you. Grinding your hips against his, you grinned wickedly as Bob let out a groan. He spun you around quickly to face him, his blonde eyebrows raised quizzically at you. His bright, deep blue eyes were locked on yours and you felt like you might melt right there on the spot.

“Now, a pretty girl like you, she deserves to be treated right by her husband, doesn’t she?” Bob hummed, his fingers toying with your inner thigh. 

“Mhmm, is that so?”

“That’s what I reckon,” Bob smirked, his accent shifting, becoming thicker as he slipped into his natural Kentucky drawl, his fingers brushing against your wet slit.

“Bobby!” You hissed, unable to stop the soft gasp that came out of your mouth with it. 

“I think, since you do such a good job taking care of Sunday and I, I should return the favor, don’t you?” 

Before you could open your mouth to speak, Bob pushed two of his long fingers past your folds, pumping them into your core at a tantalizing slow pace that left you practically aching for more. He smirked as his fingers worked at your core, feeling your body clench at the movement of his hand. 

“Fuck, Bobby,” you mewled, feeling yourself tensing up at his touch, “Feels s’good.”

Bob pulled his fingers out of you, your body aching at the loss of contact. He stood upright, quickly undoing his belt at a break-neck pace. He smirked as he noticed you biting your bottom lip, watching him as he shimmied quickly out of his khaki coloured dress pants and boxer shorts. Reaching into the pocket of the now discarded pants on the floor, he pulled out a shiny foil square of packaging. As he started to open it, you shook your head, whispering in his ear, your voice in a breathy whine as you spoke.

“We don’t need to use that if you don’t want to, baby. I wanna feel you.”

“That so, baby? Thought you wanted at least two years between kids?” He laughed softly, raising an eyebrow quizzically at you.

“I know what I said. That was before I saw you handling Sunday so well at Rooster’s this afternoon. Now I’m thinking 20 months is good enough,” you replied with a shrug, your lips curling into a smirk as you tried to convince your normally level-headed and rational thinking husband to forgo any form of contraception. 

Bob furrowed his brow in thought for a moment before tossing the condom wrapper behind him with a grin.

“What the hell, I’m on board,” He shrugged as he lifted you up, causing you to squeal in surprise as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

Bob carried you effortlessly over to the couch before dropping you gently down on to the leather sectional. He grinned as he hovered down over you, lining himself up with your entrance. He dragged the tip of his cock against you in a teasing manner, causing you to shudder and whine as you felt him make contact with your clit. He gave you a wicked grin as he watched you squirm before gently pushing himself forward. He paused for a moment for you to adjust to his size - something you should be used to by now, but yet, each time your body needed that extra moment or two to stretch around him. 

“That’s it, pretty girl, taking my cock so well,” Bob cooed as he pushed himself further into you, maintaining the slow pace he’d begun with. 

“Bobby,” you whined as he filled you, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly.

Bob began thrusting into you at a leisurely, slow pace, his voice low and husky as he grunted in your ear, reminding you of how good you feel, how you were all his, and how your body felt like it was practically made for him. You squirmed and shuddered with each thrust becoming harder and sharper, perfectly calculated to hit exactly where you wanted each time, something that was to be expected of a man who’s job entailed precision and skill when it comes to angles. 

“You feel so fucking fantastic, honey. Can’t wait to put another baby in ya. That’s what you want, isn’t it baby? Want me to give you another baby?”

Bob’s hips crashed into yours repeatedly as he thrusted, his sharp, quick movements beginning to grow sloppier as he edged closer to his orgasm. You tossed your head back in ecstasy as he bucked his hips into you, the combination of his words and his movements just about pushing you to your orgasm. 

“C’mon honey, tell me what you want from me,” Bob husked.

“Need you to put a baby in me, please, Bobby,” you cried out, unable to hold back any longer as his latest thrust pushed you to your boiling point.

As if your words flipped a switch inside of him, Bob’s hips bucked forward once more as he grunted, spilling out inside of you as your body clenched around him tightly.

Breathless and panting as you both rode out your orgasms, Bob couldn’t help but laugh as he looked at you, shaking his head.

“So what was it about my parenting that got you worked up?” He smirked, unable to shake the grin off his face as he leaned down to kiss your collarbone.

“Honestly?”

“Honestly, I know something got you worked up today, and I doubt it was the backyard barbecue at Rooster’s.”

“Your biceps have gotten huge from carrying Sunday around everywhere, and with the polo shirt and the aviators today, and you were all proud of yourself for coordinating your outfit with Sunday’s, it was a combination of things, but,” you breathed, shaking your head as you grinned, “imagine how you’ll look balancing two toddlers on your hip.”

[javigutierrez]

Are you alright, Honey?

Javi Gutierrez x afab!reader oneshot

Summary: You’re going on a long weekend with your gorgeous new boyfriend, and after a day of unresolved sexual tension out on a roadtrip you’re ready to jump him the second you get home. Unless he finds a movie at the gas station he had been looking for for years and he wants to watch it with you. Will you be able to mask your desire for him, to enjoy a movie that means so much to him? (Spoiler alert no you won’t)

Rating & Word count: Explicit | ~8500 words

Warnings/tags: fluffffff, freshly established relationship, pining like whoa, very explicit smut, f!oral, f!fingering, tons of nipple play, non-penetrative sex (sumata ig?), unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, allusions to squirting, pleasure dom!Javi vibes, tw alcohol, tw food mention, Javi is a major dumb of ass but he makes up for it, reader has female genitalia, some boobs, and long enough hair to tuck it behind their ear but no other descriptions (let me know if you find anything else!), no age references

A/N: Here it is, after years of contemplating I'm posting my first fanfic in 12 years and my first fanfic in English ever. Please be kind, English is not my first language ❤ This is a huge thing to me, and I wouldn't have been able to get there without the help and encouragement of my lovely friends - I owe a kidney to @psychedelic-ink and @shellshocklove for their tremendous help as my betas, and to @iamasaddie @perotovar @chronically-ghosted @wannab-urs for listening to my bitching and moaning along the way and still staying my loyal cheerleaders 🥺 The whole idea popped into my mind like a movie while editing this gifset (which was inspired by @prolix-yuy’s Javi story, so special thanks to LJ 🥰), that 5th gif corrupting my mind for the next 2,5 months and this was the only way I could finally get it out of my system. 🤡 I hope you'll enjoy it! ❤

This was quite an eventful day. You spent your whole day out with Javi, having a road trip at Côte d’Azur. After a little bit more than a month of dating you had decided to go on a long weekend together, choosing the French coastlines. You had been absolutely amazed by the experience; clear azure waves embracing golden shores, the streets of seaside towns winding through history with beautiful architecture and warm colours, mountain tops lurking on the horizon behind the town. After Javi had told you he would get you into the Cannes movie festival, you were already talking about coming back for a few days. 

The sights were unbelievable and the food was delectable, but what really made the trip unforgettable was your new boyfriend. Spending time with Javi was so easy. With him, all your anxiety washed away - his sweet and caring personality was like a soothing balm for your soul, and with his fun-loving side, you really felt like living your life to the fullest. Not to mention how he showed his true colors in the bedroom. Absolutely devoted to your pleasure, he could be worshipping you, making you feel like a goddess, other times he would make you beg, then shower you with praises while he was giving you exactly what you needed. Who would have thought only a few weeks before, when​ you had started chatting with a stranger waiting in line at the cinema, that he would sweep you off of your feet almost immediately and turn your life upside down in the best way possible? 

There you were right now, coming home from another amazing day spent with him, laughing with him, staring at his profile while he was driving, smoothing out his sun-bleached locks tangled up by the wind in the cabrio while he was looking at you all doe-eyed and dopey-smiled. You were holding his hand, feeling his hand on your bare thigh, resting at the hem of your bunched-up sundress comfortably and sometimes you had caught him looking at you with the same intensity. It was safe to say, by the time you got in the car to get home you were ready to jump him. 

There was only one tiny thing you hadn’t calculated for when you had been planning your night (or rather imagining it dreamily from all angles): finding a DVD at a gas station. When his eyes fell on the item, he’d looked confused for a few seconds, but then taking it from the shelf and reading the cover his face lit up like a child’s in a candy store. 

As it turned out, it was an indie French movie he had watched with his parents back when he was young and they had been on a holiday. They had rarely spent quality time together, so he cherished those few occasions he’d felt like he belonged to an ordinary, loving family. He remembered the time fondly and he always wanted to find the movie because of the nostalgia of it all, but he had forgotten the title and didn’t know the actors, so after a lot of unsuccessful attempts, he’d given up trying. 

“Can we watch this tonight? Please?” He looked at you with big brown eyes, enveloping the DVD in his hands, (dwarfing it, really) and pressing it to his heart. And how could you say no to him? If he looked at you like that, you would have agreed to watch a 10-hour-long film about paint drying on a wall. 

“Of course, Javi,” you smiled at him gently, your heart melting from his child-like joy as you watched him gallop to the cashier to pay for the gas and the DVD. You pushed the slight disappointment of not being able to climb this gorgeous goofball of a man as soon as you get home, to the back of your mind. 

At the end of the day, you were genuinely happy to just spend time with him. You blamed your hormones and the fact that you were still in the honeymoon phase for being pent up all day. You couldn’t help it, but you are a big girl in an adult relationship, you decided, you can have one night without having sex with this tall, broad, gentle but surprisingly strong, passionate, generous, highly skilled–

“Let’s go!” he urged you with an adorable grin and shining eyes, grabbing your hand and tugging you out of the gas station. Your heart swelled from the sight. Yes, you can have a peaceful night if it makes him happy, and you will be just as hyped to watch the movie as him. It did seem like a good movie based on the cover, and you knew it meant the world to him, so you wouldn’t spoil his fun with your neediness. 

By the time you got back to your rented house, it was already dark, and the early autumn weather had gotten a bit more chilly. Javi practically jumped out of the car (but still rushed to your side to open your door). 

You agreed that you would prepare the snacks and set up the TV, while he would start the fireplace and get a bottle of wine from the cellar. He gave you a soft peck on your lips, one hand resting on the back of your neck, then he pretty much ran to the cellar - you think you even heard him giggling on his way. His enthusiasm was infectious, even though you’d never even heard about the movie before, now you were excited to watch it.

When you found out how to get the DVD to work Javi was already tinkling with the logs on the fireplace, a bottle of wine with two glasses on the kitchen counter already. You let yourself get lost in the sight for a good minute, your cavewoman brain activated by looking at him focusing on his task with his arms flexing, but then you shook yourself from your reveries, going to the American-style kitchen to put a bag of popcorn in the microwave and wash some grapes, then putting the wine on the coffee table next to the couch.

You couldn’t help but steal a few more glances at him. His short-sleeved shirt was now unbuttoned, hanging on his shoulders and your eyes fell on his white tank top straining over his torso. He seemed especially broad like this, and you couldn’t wait to cuddle with him and bury your face in his chest, kissing over the constellations of freckles on his shoulders and chest you were so familiar with by now.  

Once the fire was lighting, he looked at you proudly and you beamed back at him. The more his eyes were on you, the more his look grew softer. His gaze full of adoration made butterflies whoosh in your stomach - you were overwhelmed by emotions for this man, sometimes it even made you scared of falling too hard. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with watching this movie tonight, cariño?” He asked tenderly, his voice raspy and deep. He walked up to you to put his hands on your waist, caressing you with his thumbs and lowering his head to really look into your eyes. “I know these four days are supposed to be about the two of us.” There was no hurt or any malice in his voice, he was ready to drop the plan the second you said so. It felt like he was staring into your soul and suddenly you felt guilty. You obviously didn’t try hard enough to support him if he felt the need to ask and that made your guts tie up in a knot. You put your hands on the sides of his neck, then lowered them to his shoulders, then his chest. You never broke eye contact.

“Honey, I’m absolutely sure. We had a long day so a movie night is perfect to wind down and this movie seems super interesting! I swear, I can’t wait to start it already!” You rose on your tiptoes and laid an innocent kiss on his lips. He didn’t let you go, holding your face to deepen the kiss and a zap ran through your body as his tongue slipped between your lips to taste you. 

You felt his little huff on your upper lip, and you couldn’t resist the quiet moan that escaped your throat. The sound somewhat sobered you up, and you broke the kiss, feeling a little dizzy. He opened his eyes slowly, looking a bit disheveled himself. You had a mission to accomplish, you couldn’t get distracted all the time… you went back up just to give a small kiss on the tip of his nose, which made him smile bashfully, his eyes crinkling adorably. 

“Come on baby, let’s start it!” 

You grabbed the snacks, but he took them from you with a kiss on your temple, and you both headed to the couch. He put the snacks down on the table and plopped down on the L-shaped furniture as you went on a quick round to light some candles around the room, bathing it in warm colours. You started with the candles in the back and as you worked your way back up you caught him pouring wine into your glasses, then he started to explore the menu of the DVD to set up an English subtitle. With a small sigh, you allowed yourself to indulge yourself in his sight one last time while you were finishing up the candles. 

He quite literally took your breath away. His lovely locks you adored to bury your hands into so much, his eyes sparkling from the TV’s light and crinkled with a smile he probably didn’t even notice he had on his face. Your eyes followed the curve of his prominent nose and fell on his lips under his neat mustache. Those pouty lips... you had some vivid memories involving them. The man might look innocent, but he sure knew how to do sin when he wanted to. 

He leaned back with his legs propped up and reached out to you. You climbed on top of him and nestled yourself into his chest. He held you close to him, situating himself so you were sitting between his legs, resting your back on his chest. 

“Ready, cariño?” He hummed into your neck, pressing a small kiss there. Your blood sizzled under your sensitive skin. 

“Never been more ready! Let’s go!”

Javi started the movie and scooted even closer to you, if possible. Strong arms resting on your stomach, caging you in, he nuzzled your neck with a low hum, leaving a trail of kisses up your jaw, finishing with the softest of kisses on your cheek. You felt intoxicated, despite the untouched glasses on the table. His warmth was making your whole body melt, the way his chest rose and fell rhythmically behind you soothed you, and his cologne filled your nostrils with something warm and spicy and citrusy. But below all those layers it smelled uniquely like him, perfectly complementing his perfume. You would recognize it anywhere, after so many times of tasting his skin all over his body – it was the perfect concoction.

He was none the wiser about your… rather delicate situation, eyes glued to the screen, hands absentmindedly caressing your hips and stomach. You tried to focus on the movie, and you were able to catch glimpses of it and laugh at the jokes, but his touches kept distracting you. More often than not you caught yourself looking at his sinewy forearms, the golden watch on his wrist, and the ring on his pinky catching on your dress from time to time. You slowly traced the veins on his arms, and as you tried to focus on the screen again you played with the edges of his watch and ring. He gently caught your hand, intertwining your fingers and raising it to his face for a kiss on your knuckles. 

“Some wine?” He murmured sometime later. 

You were grateful for the opportunity, slightly going mad from the tension as you were stewing in your juices. He barely finished his question, you were already leaning for the glasses, handing him one. “Oo-kay,” he chuckled at your enthusiasm, albeit a little confused by your behaviour. He paused the movie and sat up at the corner of the couch. You were still between his legs, but you both positioned yourself to turn to each other more at the corner. His left hand held the glass, and his right was on your waist, keeping you close to him. His eyes were glazed over looking at your face and you could only imagine how ridiculously smitten you must have looked like. 

“For this perfect day, and for the unexpected gifts it has brought us,” he said, raising his glass. 

“For this perfect day, that is about to get even better,” you answered, making him grin with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

You clinked your glasses and raised it to your lips, him barely tasting the wine through a sip, while you downed the whole glass. Leaning back against the backrest of the couch, you tried to look put together. The taste really was divine, and you had hoped it would help to calm your nerves a bit. Javi was visibly amused looking at you.

“You liked it, huh, cariño?” He asked, getting your glasses and putting them on the table leaning over your legs. 

You giggled in response, smiling shyly at him with a small shrug, “It tasted amazing, Javi. It was a great choice.” 

“I knew you would love this. Say the word and a box of these will be at my house by the time we get home,” he said, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ears and kept his hand on the side of your face. 

“Consider it said.” You winked at him and he breathed out a silent laugh, but he tilted his head a little with a small frown between his brows, seemingly inspecting you. You had a feeling you had looked a bit nervous, only because you’d tried to clumsily mask your desire for him, wanting to give this night to him to enjoy a movie that meant so much to him but… you clearly weren’t succeeding. You knew he was about to ask you about it, so instead you grabbed the remote before he could speak. 

“Shall we?” You asked nonchalantly. 

His hand dropped from your face. “Of course,” he said. 

He shook his head a little, failing at figuring you out as he leaned back on the couch. You laid down in front of him so you could continue watching the movie while he spooned you, and pressed the play button. You’d hoped that with this new pose, there would be less temptation as you’re not laying on him anymore, but boy, were you wrong. 

He hoisted you closer to his body, his hand splayed out on your stomach, and kept you there, almost protectively. Staring at it, you dumbly wondered about how much smaller your torso looked under his hand than your own and that activated something primal in your mind again. You felt his crotch pressed up to your ass, and though he wasn’t hard, it made your cunt throb around nothing. It was so close, yet so far, and you weren’t allowed to do anything about it. Your guts twisted, and you wiggled every few minutes, pressing your thighs together, uselessly fighting the arousal that kept getting more and more suffocating. 

A few minutes later he nuzzled at the back of your ear, and the combined sensations of his breath in your ear and the soft tickle of his mustache and stubble made a shudder run through your body, followed by goosebumps everywhere.

“Are you alright, honey?” He murmured, looking at your profile. 

“Of course, Javi,” you said, not very convincingly. “Just trying to find the perfect angle.” You explained as you wiggled some more, still staring at the TV, as your thumb gently smoothed across his knuckles to soothe him. 

“Right…” he replied. 

Whatever he thought, he didn’t say anything else. 

However, a few minutes later the hand that had been on your stomach slowly wandered down, below the hem of your sundress, and he gently, but firmly lifted your thigh to fit his between your legs. The movement was so unexpected that you couldn’t hold back a small groan from the pleasure the friction gave you. 

“You sure you’re alright?” Javi asked innocently behind your back, his hand now smoothing over the bare skin on your thigh, leaving an electric feeling beneath your skin in its trail. Every single one of his touches made arousal pool between your legs. You silently cursed at your body for growing more and more sensitive, begging for him to come closer. 

“Yeah…” you practically squeaked. You were close to your breaking point. 

Javi only hummed, his hand stopping to rest it on your stomach again. You were fighting your instincts to rub yourself on his thigh for a few minutes, and you were proud of yourself for resisting, but then he moved between your legs a little, enough to give attention to your aching clit, and the hiss that escaped your lips made him come to a halt. 

It felt like the time froze for a few seconds, none of you daring to move. You, trying to take back control over your treacherous body, and him obviously assessing the situation. You mentally did a facepalm as you felt your wet underwear sticking to his pants. He didn’t say anything, but his hand moved down from your stomach and bunched up your skirt. He breathed out your name, almost admonishing, and it made your heart jump. His hand was dangerously close to where you wanted him the most, and as his palm covered your mound, thick fingers reaching your soaked panties, he buried his face in the back of your neck. 

“Oh, honey…” he choked. He took a deep inhale, smelling your scent, then suddenly sat up and paused the movie. 

“No, Javi, I was watching it!” You wanted to wince at yourself, your act was truly ridiculous at this point. 

“None of that, cariño.” He shook his head, turning you on your back with a firm hand on your hip. “You obviously need me, please let me take care of you.” 

“It really can wait, I don’t mind!” You protested. You wanted nothing more than for him to touch you, but you didn’t want to be selfish. 

“Well, I don’t want to wait!” He declared, his gaze burning you as it fell from your face, scanning your body splayed out in front of him. “What about this: I eat you out, then we can continue the movie. Would that be okay for you?” 

You stared at him like a deer caught in a headlight. Is he serious? But his words definitely affected you. 

“Please, cariño,” he continued in a gentler tone, his pleading eyes finding yours again. “Let me eat your pretty pussy, now.” 

That was the last nail in your coffin, you swore under your breath as you almost went cross-eyed from his words only. “Fffuck, okay… okay let’s do this” you croaked after a few seconds, your defenses crumbling like a house of cards in a tornado. 

“Atta girl,” he smirked, and in an instant, he was on top of you. 

His fingers found their way into your hair as he put his lips on you, the press of his body a comforting weight on you. His kiss was electric, hot, and sensual. He sucked your lips in with a primal hunger, his tongue licking against the seam of your lips, opening you up to him and claiming your mouth with dominance. You barely noticed the soft sounds coming from your throat, only when you felt the corners of his mouth curl up slightly in a smile. You felt like you had to anchor yourself as you gripped the back of his open yellow shirt so hard, it was protesting against your ministrations on his shoulders. 

“Mmmtake—this—off,” you whispered desperately against his all-encompassing kiss. 

Javi leaned back, his hair disheveled, to practically tear the shirt off of himself. With a huff through his nose, his eyes gazed at your kiss-swollen lips with hunger. You were out of breath from the intensity of the kiss, panting softly as you took in the sight of him. 

He still had his tank top on, your mouth already dropping from the show. His top only accentuated his wide shoulders and narrow waist, and his skin kissed by the firelight was glowing in a golden light, its colours and the way the lights and shadows exaggerated his features made you drool. You could never resist the freckles on his shoulders and chest either. If you weren’t already on the edge of insanity, you would spend hours kissing and biting along his torso, but now clearly none of you had the patience for that. 

He came back to you and started suckling on your neck, one of your hands flying to his back to weakly trace the ridges of his shoulder blade, while the other clutched his bicep. Keeping up his ministrations on your neck he gently bunched up your dress above your stomach. His thigh found its way back between your legs and this time you bucked your hips up shamelessly. He groaned as he felt your wet warmth staining his pants and his lips traveled lower. As he trailed your collarbone with the tip of his tongue between his lips, two of his fingers touched you through your panties and you moaned out loud. 

“Javi, please!” you whined as he trailed his middle and ring finger up your seam, and tapped on your clit through the soaked textile. You were so worked up, you felt your heart pounding in your ears. 

“Shhh cariño, I got you,” he murmured, his voice impossibly low and his breath burning your chest. 

His fingers never gave up, but he always kept his touches light, making you throb uncontrollably. You watched him move lower, and you couldn’t decide what to stare at: his lips and tongue molding against your fevered skin, or the dips and hills of his shoulders and biceps flexing as he kept himself up with one arm while torturing you with the other. He traced his tongue around your navel and he looked up at you as he licked over its valley, his fingers mimicking the movement below. He then had the audacity to send you a cheeky wink as your whole body shuddered.

“Fuuuck, stop teasing me, I can’t take it anymore!” you sounded pathetic, but you didn’t care at this point.

“Okay, baby. You earned it.” 

He consoled you quietly with a final kiss to your lower stomach, before hooking his fingers into your panties to slowly drag the piece down. If it was anyone else you probably would have felt awkward about how the fabric protested at first, sticking to your cunt, but with Javi, if anything, you felt powerful. 

He was visibly trying to compose himself as he gently helped you get both your legs out of the ruined piece and with a shaky exhale he scooted back. He shove a cushion under your ass as he laid down on his belly, navigating your thighs over his shoulders, eyeing your center with blown-out pupils. 

“I will never get used to this,” he mused to himself with wonder in his voice, as he splayed his hands across the crease of your ass to softly spread your cunt wide open with his thumbs. You felt his heavy huff on your pussy, and it made you twitch again. He looked captivated by the sight.

“Javi, I swear to go—oohhh my god,” Javi cut you off as the flat of his tongue licked a broad and firm stripe through your folds with a depraved moan.

Your whole body lifted up, and he hooked his arms around your legs, grabbing at the top of your thighs as he held you down, keeping you close to his ravenous mouth. He gave you a few greedy laps, slowly exploring all of your cunt before his tongue lazily went around your hole. Your muscles were twitching, your chest and neck aflame, and if his sight weren’t so hypnotizing you would have thrown your head back already. You felt boneless. 

Your abs shaking from the strain of keeping you upright, you grabbed a few cushions you could reach from your position, and shoved them under your head, angling yourself perfectly to watch him at work. He was licking at you tirelessly, mapping all your sensitive spots, before he started to fuck you with his tongue, slowly but deliberately grazing your walls all around. 

You let out a raspy moan at the sensation - he was the first person who had ever done this to you and you were still surprised by it every single time. The feel of his agile muscle prodding at your sensitive flesh made your vision blur and sweat gather around your temple. He went as deep as possible, and after an inhale he buried his nose in your clit, slightly moving it left and right. You felt him everywhere as if he was surrounding your entire body. One of your hands grabbed a cushion so tightly, it made your knuckles ache, your other hand finding purchase in his soft locks. 

You were scraping his scalp with your fingernails, and he practically purred, the sounds vibrating against your raw flesh, starting a fire in your guts as goosebumps erupted on your skin. You couldn’t help pulling at a handful of hair as your pussy spasmed around his deft tongue. His purr turned into a growl as he removed himself, gulping some air still a few inches away from your cunt. Your hands lifelessly plopped down around you. 

“Fuck, cariño, I won’t ever get enough of you,” his speech was slurred like he was drunk and he looked up at you with disoriented eyes. “You taste so good, I would happily drown in you.”

You wanted to react, you really did, but as he was talking one of his hands left your thigh and traced an invisible pattern down the apex of your thighs, fingers traveling through your cunt and gathering your juices, then reaching their destination, a thick digit slipping into you just when you wanted to answer him. Whatever you wanted to tell him, he rendered you speechless with literally a swipe of his finger. The cracking of the fire and the slick sounds of your pussy were the only noises around you, until you felt his mouth on you again. He lapped up the juices escaping you around his finger, sucking on your lips with obscenely loud noises. You wanted to cover your face because you suddenly felt self-conscious, but his free hand grabbed your wrist as you heard him call your name brokenly. 

“Please don’t hide away from me, I want to see your face as I bring you pleasure,” he pleaded, his accent a bit stronger than usual. 

The mere look of him was debauched, all messy-haired and shiny-faced, looking at you like you hung the moon and the stars in the sky. Your heart skipped a beat, and you held onto his hand, his thumb tracing reassuring circles on your knuckles immediately. Your other hand smoothed his unruly hair out of his face, and he went back, keeping eye contact with you. 

“Look at me,” he rasped one last time before diving in.

He dragged his tongue up between your folds as his finger started moving again. He looked up at you the entire time from under his lashes, eyes half-lidded. As he reached your clit you jumped a little, and he opened his mouth wider so you could see his tongue moving against the tortured little nub with a small wiggle. You had to compose yourself not to let your eyes roll back, the sight somehow multiplying the already devastating sensation tenfold. 

“You’re so fucking good to me, Javi,” you uttered, caressing his hair and you could see a shiver running down his spine. “I’m so—so—“

“I know, mi amor, I can feel it. Let go for me.” 

He groaned and sucked your clit into his mouth, laving it with his tongue. You squealed, not knowing if you wanted to escape from his ministrations or let him consume you. You tried to trash around but his hands came up and covered the bottom of your stomach, holding you down again. You had half the mind to notice him slowly grinding onto the couch, but then you felt his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, along with his finger rubbing that perfect spot inside you again, and you felt like a lightning struck you. 

All your muscles seized up as white-hot pleasure coursed through your veins. At first, you couldn’t even breathe, let alone make a sound, but then a groan tore out from the depth of your chest and you fell back on the couch lifelessly. Javi never let up licking at you, prolonging your catharsis, not stopping even when you tried to squirm away from oversensitivity. 

“No, no wait—“ you pleaded with a shaky voice to no avail. Everything was too much, but you couldn’t escape from his iron grip. Javi greedily explored all your sensitive spots around your swollen vulva and hole with firm strokes, before he found the button of your clit again, sucking on it harshly dragging you under the waves of ecstasy for a second time that night with a squeak. His mouth was sucking at you relentlessly through the helpless spasms of your body, draining all the energy from you and filling your brain with fuzzy cotton. You fell back limply, muttering nonsense while his mouth gently cleaned you up.

You had no idea how long you were just laying there uselessly, basking in the afterglow with Javi still between your legs. His face rested on the plush of your thigh, his breathing slow but heavy, his eyes closed and his hands flexing. 

Once your wits came back to you, you noticed a faint dent on your thigh from Javi’s ring, a thought of how you wanted to tattoo it on your skin filled your mind – to keep it there forever. 

You played with his hair again, curling a silky strand around your finger by scraping little circles on his scalp. As if you woke him up from a stupor, he looked up at you, breathing now almost normal, but his pupils were still blown out. He wiped his face on your inner thigh, then kissed and sucked off the remnants of your wetness there and you giggled, his facial hair tickling you. He crawled up your body with a smile across his face, before he laid next to you. You immediately followed him, decorating the hot skin on his shoulders and collarbone with lazy, open-mouthed kisses. He weakly pawed at your waist to bring you closer to him, then dragged the bottom of your dress over your thighs to give you some decency. 

“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” he pondered and gently pinched your ass. You snickered as you playfully swatted his chest, before laying your head on his pecs. His heart was beating wildly and it made you swoon, so much so that you had to lay a soft kiss between his pecs, just above the hem of his top before nuzzling even more into his blushed chest, as a content sigh fell from your lips. Your gaze couldn’t help but fall to his bulge - he was visibly affected by your previous endeavors. 

“Javi…” you whispered in his neck, while your hand gently caressed his stomach. You felt his heavy exhale under you. “If you want… we can continue…” 

“Oh! Of course, cariño!” he said, perking up, reaching out for the remote control and pushing the play button again, eyes immediately glued on the screen. 

You laid there, having a mental tantrum. Well, things weren’t going the way expected. How can he still be thinking about the movie? 

Squashing that ugly disappointment down, you turned in his arms to try to focus on the TV again. You weren’t allowed to complain, he said he would make you cum and you would continue the movie, and he did just that and more. You couldn’t help the ravenous hunger you had for this man though, it was never enough of him. You laid a soft kiss on his bicep below your head and your arm reached behind to gently shove him back against you. He followed you diligently, but he tensed as his bulge, now hard, rested against your ass again. 

“I’m sorry honey, I’ll just need a minute,” he apologised quietly, voice strained from embarrassment and barely veiled desire. 

The devil on your shoulder took over you as you rolled your hips against him slowly but deliberately. The filthy sound coming from deep in his chest melted your bones, making it hard to keep back your own needy whine. 

“Wh—what are you doing?” 

His strong grip on your hip felt like a warning, but his voice was so weak. That’s what made you throw all your culture out the window, giddy roiling in your guts from feeling him get fully erect against you. You barely registered your hand moving mindlessly, grinding your palm against him. His hand clenched around your forearm easily, but he didn’t move it away. 

“I need you, Javi,” you begged shamelessly, turning your head back in his direction as much as possible. 

“Fuck…” he breathed, eyes closed shut with a loud gulp. When he opened his eyes again his gaze was intense, one of his hands cradling your face as he propped himself up on his elbow to look deeply into your eyes. “I thought you wanted to watch the movie…” 

That made you freeze with confusion, even your hand stopped moving over him. 

“…me?” You asked incredulously. “I mean yeah, it does seem like a great movie and I’d happily watch it any other time, but I couldn’t wait to be alone with you the entire day. I’ve wanted to eat you up since we crawled out of bed this morning. But I’m happy to do anything as long as I’m with you– and you looked so happy to find that movie… I don’t know… I just didn’t want to ruin your joy with my neediness, I guess” you confessed hastily with warm cheeks. 

A soft sound of surprise got stuck in his throat as he looked at you with saucer eyes, gaping like a fish. It looked rather comical if you were honest. If you didn’t feel so sheepish about your clumsy confession, you would have giggled at his expression. 

He shook his head lightly, as if processing your words. “So that’s why you were acting so weird tonight!” He exclaimed, relief evident on his face. He breathed out your name softly, his thumb caressing your face ever so gently. 

“I felt the same way the entire day. I got distracted by finding the movie, I give you that, but up until that moment, I was contemplating taking you in the bathroom in every single place we visited. Even in the car, consequences be damned,” he huffed, and you had to clench your thighs to alleviate the need growing between them again from the mental image. 

“Cariño, I have the DVD now, I can watch it whenever I want!” He tutted, “I swear, one day I’m gonna write a screenplay for you to be the lead in it, you’re such a talented actress. You seemed so eager to watch this movie that I felt guilty for trying to distract you,” he smoothed a strand of hair behind your ear with a chuckle, “I suppose both of us were fools…” 

You couldn’t hold back a rather unsexy snort at that, but it made him beam at you with crinkling eyes. 

He cupped your jaw and leaned over to press a sweet kiss on your lips, but it immediately grew hungry. The stark difference between his precious face and the taste of yourself still on his tongue made a shudder run through your body. 

Javi can really do both, you thought dreamily, but you were quickly snapped back to reality when he rolled you on top of him and deepened the kiss as he slowly sat up, helping you to position yourself on your knees around his hips. He planted his feet on the couch and grabbing your bare asscheeks firmly he dragged your pulsing center down on his bulge. 

Your hands flew to his hair, arms resting on his shoulders, feeling like passing out when you felt his cock twitch against your bare pussy, tearing a low hiss out of him. He bunched up and gripped your dress around your torso. 

“This little dress was teasing me all day,” he groaned, slowly pulling down the zip on your back, the edge of his thumb caressing your bare spine in the process. “It looks fantastic on you, honey, but I need to see all of you, right now.” 

By the time he finished his thought, he already tugged it off of you, your breast jiggling in front of his face from the impact of falling out of the secure hold of the dress, his heavy gaze falling to them immediately, your body now bare in his lap. 

“Oh god, look at you… tan bonita,” he murmured as his hands slid over your ribs firmly, before they slipped under your breasts with a feather-light touch. 

He cupped the mounds gently as his thumbs smoothly explored the skin. The pad of his fingers traced your areola, then softly rubbed over your sensitive nipples. You arched your back, leaking some more wetness on his trousers as you rubbed yourself heavier on him. One hand molded a breast into his waiting mouth, tongue wiggling around the achy nub and the other slipping down your shivering stomach, across the top of your thigh and teasing at your seam across your ass. 

The suckling sensation on your nipple, while his hand was prodding teasingly at your swollen entrance made you go insane. You had to center yourself around something. You clasped the back of the couch tightly, using it as support as you pushed your chest more in his face. Without hesitation, you vigorously moved your clit against his bulge, your head arched back in ecstasy.

His wrecked moan was the prize, your breast slipping from his lips as you watched a tremor course through his entire body. Once he came back to his senses he doubled down his efforts, nuzzling the other breast and sucking the pebbled nipple in his hot mouth. 

His tongue started to swirl around the hardened nub at the same time as two of his fingers drowned in your slick pussy, finding your most sensitive spot with devastating accuracy. Your mind went blank, and your gasps came out in hiccups. Your instincts took over as you were riding his bulge with trembling legs, chasing your blinding pleasure. You only had enough wits to sit back to undo his belt, ripping off his fly, and with his help, you were able to push his pants down his thighs, freeing his erect cock.

His hand grasped the base and gently tapped it against your sensitive clit, and your hips started moving again, trapping his length under your pussy as you continued to slide over him. He softly bit on your nipple in response which blazed off fireworks in your lower stomach, his other hand never stopping its brutal pace grinding against your most sensitive spot. You were so close to cumming you could practically taste it on your tongue. 

“Feels so good—,“ your voice was desperate, and he let out a wrecked moan around your breast. 

The soft pulling sensation, coupled with the warm, wet caresses of his mouth on your nipple, the expert touch of his fingers on your g-spot, and the tantalizing friction of your clit rubbing against the ridges of his cock, quickly sent you spiraling into a world of ecstasy and pleasure. You came with a wail, your back arching and eyes rolling back. You faintly felt Javi’s hands at the base of your back and along your spine, keeping you close to him while his eyes feasted on you falling apart for him. You fell back on his shoulders, weakly grasping at his elbows as his palms caressed your back and he showered your neck with small kisses, humming quietly between them. 

“You did so well, you’re fucking amazing,” he breathed against your skin, as you felt your pulse slow down a bit. He kissed a path down your sweaty chest and came back the same route. After some blissful peace, you felt his cock twitch against you and you whined. 

“Do you have one more in you, mi amor? We can rest,” Javi asked gently, his eyes searching for yours. 

Bless his heart, he made you come three times and he would finish the night here and there, hard as a rock. Your body was still buzzing and you felt sore from his thick fingers but one look at his sinful state was enough to get you in the mood again. 

His lovely locks were now sticking to his face, the perspiration on his chest only making him glow even more. His mouth was agape, plush lower lip kiss-swollen, and his dark eyes silently pleading with you. Instead of giving him an answer, you gripped the hem of his tank top and peeled the offending item off of him as he held up his arms, helping you and keeping his lustrous eyes on yours. 

Resting your hands on the top of his chest you kissed down his neck, between his collarbones. Sitting back lower on his legs, you could trace your tongue between his pecs and down to his soft stomach. You couldn’t help but kiss around his little belly, giving him a playful bite which made him jolt with a small laugh. Your finger traced the soft patch of hair below his navel, and understanding your silent request, he kicked down the remaining of his clothes while you kneeled on the side. 

You were fascinated as you watched his cock in all its glory, shiny from your juices, precum already leaking from the angry, red tip. Your mouth watered at the sight, and you were already in motion to have a taste for yourself when he stopped you, gently putting his hands around your arms. 

“It pains me to stop you, but the second I feel your mouth on me, I would be a goner.” His husky voice was layered with desire. “C’mere, I need to be inside you,” he added, and you almost jumped on him. 

You crawled back over his hips while he pumped his cock a few times, his veins bulging in his cock and forearms. It was one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen and you filed the idea for later exploration. You went lower on him and he smeared his member over your slit, covering him in your juices generously again, then he prodded the head at your entrance. 

“Come on, cariño, let me feel you, please,” he growled, and you carefully descended down on him. 

You were over quite a few nights with him, but your pussy still struggled to accommodate his size, especially now that you were still sore and sensitive from earlier. The struggle felt like a pinch and you whined, but he cradled your face and kissed your forehead. 

“It’s okay honey, take your time,” he whispered and let you take the lead for the moment. 

He caressed everywhere he could reach. He sucked two fingers into his mouth and lead them to your clit, ever so slightly drawing circles around it. At first, it felt like a needle stab, but a few seconds later it turned into pleasure. You swallowed more of him with a quiver. You felt so full, even though you were still a few inches apart from sitting down completely. 

His tongue found your breasts again, laving at the skin with bites and kisses alternating between them, tongue chasing your puffy nipple with confident laps. When he sucked in your soaked bud to bite down on it your cunt bottomed out, swallowing his cock entirely as a fresh wave of slickness coated his base. He tore away from your glistening nipple, burying his face between your breasts with a heavy groan. 

“You’re so fucking tight around me,” he rasped into your damp chest. “You were made for me. And your skin is so fucking silky.” 

Just to prove his point, his greedy tongue made its way up your chest, across your neck and jaw and to claim your mouth in a hedonistic kiss, as his hands grabbed the meat of your ass; not to force you to move, but to ground himself. 

The kiss was a little clumsy, but no less toe-curling, his tongue exploring your mouth and teeth clashing as you started to rise and fall against him. You felt so full, as if he was in your guts. Your lungs burned as you felt more and more overwhelmed by the inferno in your body. You broke away from him only to lay back, hands grabbing his shins while continuing to move up and down on his cock. 

The new angle was exhausting, but it rubbed your insides from just the perfect direction, and your vision blurred from the sensation. From this angle he had the best view of his cock disappearing in your puffy cunt, then appearing again, covered in your juices. Javi was hypnotized by the sight, his mouth dropping, and eyebrows knitted tightly together. 

“That’s it, use me, just like that,” he grunted, trapped under your spell over him. 

Heavy-lidded eyes followed your every move, and as he reached out to touch your overworked clit again your thighs started to tremble so hard that you couldn’t continue gyrating against him. He swore under his breath as you throbbed around him another time, and you leaned over his body to grab his shoulders. 

He prompted you to rise higher on your knees above him as he secured his feet on the surface of the couch. One arm braced himself next to his torso, while the other slipped up your back to grab your shoulder from the back, and he started to pound into you mercilessly, stealing your breath. You could barely stay in place, so you grabbed the backrest of the couch as you felt tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. 

“Are you close, baby? I’m so close but I need you to come first,” he strained, seemingly every muscle in his body tensing from the exertion.

He looked like a sculpture of a deity from ancient times, especially when his head fell back, the thick column of his gorgeous neck on full display. You could only nod, not being able to even form a coherent thought anymore as your desperate whines became constant. He raised his head again - he couldn’t keep his gaze away from where you connected, his face almost looked angry from the concentration. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, rub your clit for me,” he roared, and you followed his order immediately. 

Almost as soon as you touched your clit, you started shuddering violently with a loud and raspy cry, tears running down your face as he kept grazing your g-spot with every powerful thrust. You felt possessed as your entire body short-circuited, and your ears started ringing. You faintly registered his load painting your walls as your throbbing core milked him dry, his growl echoing in your ears. 

You collapsed on him like a ragdoll, your sweaty bodies colliding as he kept you close to his chest. As you came back to your wits a few minutes later you felt raw and weak and vulnerable, but it was okay because Javi was there, embracing you with strong arms and gentle kisses across your face, swiping away your tears. His body was like a shelter as you clung to him with all your limbs and he kept you safe from whatever was happening outside of your bubble. 

“Are you okay?” He whispered, your name falling from his lips like a prayer as his hand smoothed over your hair while his body swayed you gently. 

“I’m… I’m more than okay,” you croaked, still feeling boneless as you weakly clasped into his body. “Thank you, this was a spiritual experience.” He huffed a small laugh at that. 

“You are incredible,” he cooed. 

You lazily nuzzled deeper into his neck with a hum, letting his scent calm your frayed nerves down. You stayed like that, limbs intertwined for a while, before Javi reluctantly pulled out of you, making the both of you groan as he gently helped you to lay on your back and he hurried to the bathroom in all his naked glory. 

He came back soon, but that little time was enough for you to realize that your thighs and mound were drenched. That explains the out-of-body experience. 

Javi sat down next to you, a warm and wet washcloth in his hand. He cleaned you up with reverence, eyeing the marks he had left over your body. He seemed worried, but you wore them with pride.

“That’s very kind of you, but I think we will need to shower anyway,” you smiled bashfully, and he placed a smooth kiss on your forehead.

“I wasn’t sure if you had enough energy for that,” he rasped.

“If you help me, it won’t be an issue,” you sat up slowly, your coordination akin to a newborn foal, his hand held out to help you to stand. 

“Of course, cariño.” 

His warm eyes made your knees buckle, this time not from your physical activities. As if on cue, the credits rolled on the screen with a blaring sound, and both of you jerked your head in its direction with alarm, obviously forgetting about the movie going in the background the entire time. You looked back at each other with wide eyes, laughter erupting out of you at the same time.

“So, you wanna watch the movie when we get back home?” He snickered.

“Definitely!” You perked up at the prospect of spending more time with him after your getaway. Besides, now it was your mission to finally really watch the movie. “Unless you’ll need me again,” you added, wiggling your eyebrows at him. He chuckled and smacked your ass gently.

“I was hoping for that answer.”

—————

THE END.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs & feedbacks are highly appreciated ♥️

[robinette-green]

Two Hunters and a Bloodsucker

My life is good for what it is. Except that I’m dead. Well, undead. I’ve been undead for about 15 years now, and I haven’t aged a day.

Being a vampire hiding among humans can be difficult at times, mainly dealing with sunlight and avoiding mirrors, but I manage. I’ve been living and working in this little town as the town blacksmith for about 7 years now, and I’ve become a full-fledged member of the little community here.

I thought I had been doing a good job hiding my presence among the humans, but one day two of the most well-known vampire hunters came into town. If they find out what I am, they will kill me, but both of them have become intent on becoming my friends and maybe more. How can I keep myself from being discovered when two hunters are trying to romance me?

Current word count: 58,520

Tags: Sun and Moon are humans, Fluff and Angst, Sun and Moon are vampire hunters, Blood, Not beta read we die like men!, Blood Drinking, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Angst and Feels, MC is a vampire, Mild Gore

AO3 Chapter Links:

Chapter 1: Hiding in Plain Sight Two vampire hunters come to town and ask me to forge them some silver bullets

Chapter 2: Complications Despite trying to avoid both hunters, I run into both and the flirting intensifies

Chapter 3: Deadly Romance The two hunters watch me work and I accidentally take a nap on the roof of my workshop

Chapter 4: This is a chapter I’ve gone too long without drinking blood but I need to finish these bullets.

Chapter 5: Leaving The hunters take me with them when they leave to take care of their next job

Chapter 6: This is Also a Chapter On the road and the hunters start asking me questions about being a vampire

Chapter 7: Chapter Name Here We reach a little seaside town and get a room at an inn

Chapter 8: Why do Chapters Need Names? It’s morning and we meet with an old friend of the hunters

Chapter 9: I Refuse to Come up With Another Real Chapter Name Classic horror movie setting. A thunderstorm and an old rickety house on a cliff.

Chapter 10: This Chapter has a Fight in it … This chapter had a fight in it.

Chapter 11: Really Dead? Lives are saved and we’re on the road again

Chapter 12: Hot Stuff (I’m not sorry) We make it to the capital city and meet the hunters’ uncle

Chapter 13: Well… Blood, a nap, and a nighttime walk

Chapter 14: AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!! “What happened to ‘I need time?’”

Chapter 15: What are Emotions? Floating on a fluffy cloud of fluff.

Chapter 16: Calm before the Storm Food and new clothes

Chapter 17: Chapter The Hunters Guild

Chapter 18: Chapter the next Late night visitors and a trip to a famous smithy

Chapter 19: Beginning of the End Things aren’t always what they seem

Chapter 20: Loss and Blood Escaping and meeting a horse

Chapter 21: Running Trying to get back to town

Chapter 22: Chapter plus a number of Meeting old friend and coming up with a plan

Chapter 23: Body Chute Sneaking in to save the day

Chapter 24: Hell Fire We’re here to save the day! But can we get away?

Chapter 25: The Worst Chapter

Horrible things happen

Chapter 26: IN PROGRESS

[imgeekgirlfan]

Deal with the Devil

Pairings:  Raphael x f!Tav/Reader  [From Baldur's Gate 3]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  

Warnings: Spoilers for Act 3 (Baldur's Gate 3), NSFW, Smut, Manipulation, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Unprotected sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Creampie, Rough Sex, Biting, Ownership, they hate each other but also fuck each other, (Raphael is a Man Whore)

Synopsis : Yes, making a deal with the devil was foolish, but fucking the devil you despise is even more foolish.

AN : This one-short fic is inspired by the quest ‘Deal with the Devil’ involving Raphael in Act 3. Raphael approaches Tav to make a deal at the Sharess' Caress (a situation conducive to writing smut fic Lol)

Yes, I know that Canon Raphael is bad in sex, but I don't care! hope you guys enjoy the full experience of ‘Man Whore’ Raphael in my fic.

also big thank to my lovely friend and smut fic expert (lol) @missmarmaladeth for being the beta reader for this fic. If it weren't for her help in proofreading and providing guidance, this fic wouldn't have been completed (tbh, it's very hard to write a horny fic)

Read in Ao3 : here

Two years. 

That's exactly how long since you left Baldur's Gate, your hometown. 

You reminisce about the past when you decided to escape, as vividly as if it happened yesterday. You had sworn to yourself that you wouldn't set foot in that wretched city again. 

But fate has a whimsical way of playing with your life.

Two years of tumultuous uncertainty, a journey you never thought would happen to your ordinary life. started with surviving the infection of mind-flayers, spreading madness into your brain. You joined forces with other survivors, embarking on an adventure to find a cure. Along the way, you get involved in local troubles, both intentionally and unintentionally. From goblins to witches, demons, and even confronting malevolent gods lurking behind schemes of dominion.

Who would have thought all of this would lead you back to Baldur's Gate once more, with a drastically different role from before.

The hero, the sole hope of the kingdom, defending the city of Baldur's Gate 

Quite amusing indeed. 

You sigh deeply, mocking yourself genuinely. As you follow your gaze along the densely packed houses and shops on both sides of the street, some built with bricks, some with wood, the salty smell of the seaside city mixes with the faint stench of fish stalls and the smoky haze from distant ironworks. The grumbling chatter of the townsfolk invites annoyance but is still pale in comparison to the beggars and street children attempting to pickpocket you at least five times, forcing you to handle it the way the hero of the city should—threatening to chop off their hands if they dared show their faces near you again.

After keeping an eye on the little delinquents skulking away through the alley and ensuring no one would disturb your peace again, you turn your attention back to Baldur's Gate once more, this time with a different sense.

Certainly, overall, the city remains as chaotic as ever. But you find it hard to articulate what you're feeling at the moment. It's like you don't really know and aren't familiar with this place at all, even though Baldur's Gate is your hometown.

You can't pinpoint precisely what is strangely amiss, from the people to the houses and in every square inch of the city. Yet, you sense deep down that there's something unsettling here. It's as if all the malevolence has converged on this city.

Soon, you discover where the root of that malevolence comes from

Sharess' Caress, the most notorious brothel in Baldur's Gate.

You didn't intend to come here to seek sexual pleasure for yourself. But one of the small quests you took on due to financial need is linked to the disappearance of a prostitute, which seems to be connected to the murder case of a prominent priest in the community, as well as the case of explosive-laden donation boxes.  Because The suspicious toymaker also seems to be lingering around this brothel as well

It's suspicious... Why do all the clues from three different cases point directly to this brothel?

But setting aside those minor quests, another interesting thing about Sharess' Caress is the special concoction Drink from the bartender named Hooligan, which has gained fame as the city's signature drink that one mustn't miss. You've never had the chance to taste it before.

Considering the burdensome responsibilities you've shouldered throughout the journey, facing life-threatening situations multiple times, would it be reasonable to reward yourself just a little?

However, bringing companions into the brothel seems somewhat unsettling. So, it might be better to let everyone separate and enjoy some relaxation in the city for a day before regrouping once again. Even though Baldur's Gate may not be the most hospitable place for you, it's still an exciting city for outsiders like Shadowheart, a rural dweller from Moonhaven, or Lae'zel, the warrior from the Githyanki tribe, who comes from Stardock, far away from here. It's not a difficult decision for them to explore the big city rather than drink their heads off in the brothel with you.

The white-painted wooden building may look compact from the outside, but it's much more spacious inside than expected. As it's midday, there aren't as many people in the brothel as you thought. You maintain a composed expression as a woman in a tight-fitting red and green dress with a high slit saunters over to greet you at the counter. Each step she takes reveals smooth white legs intentionally. Her golden, voluminous hair cascades down in waves, and her heavily made-up face resembles a glamorous mannequin, with a full-fledged business-like smile. She introduces herself as 'Mamzell Amira', the owner and madam of this brothel.

“A weary traveller, battered and bruised. You come for sustenance. No —Decadence. A mien cool as ice, yet eyes burning hot. Oh yes, I know your bliss.” She spoke in a melodic tone, akin to singing a song. Her captivating voice effortlessly sent shivers down the spines of those who listened, making them either enraptured or have goosebumps “A sturdy dwarf, a leather whip. She gives - you receive. Or have I misjudged you?”

You almost choked on yourself, having to fake a cough to clear your throat. You were somewhat relieved that your companions didn't come with you, as the current situation was quite awkward.

"I didn't come here for that," you clarified.

Amira raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by the guest who didn't come for sexual purposes like others. She appraised you once more; Everything about you seemed contradictory—the youthful appearance conflicted with the worldly weariness reflected in your expression, and the luxurious silver brooch nestled in your light-colored hair hinted at your high-class status in Baldur's Gate.

Overall, you didn't quite look like an adventurer, more like one of those noble daughters dwelling on a grand estate. However, the silver-accented armor and the sharp-pointed sword hanging at your waist confirmed your profession as an adventurer quite well.

Nevertheless, there was something the madam was particularly confident about—you have money, and she wasn't foolish enough to let a heavy-pocketed customer like you slip away easily.

"Of course, my dear. We've other ways to fill your void. A drink, for one. A pair of Drows for another. or Devils, for those who desire to be scorched, Choose your sin."

"Devils?" That word struck a chord within you, and your unintentional display of curiosity was quickly noticed under Amira's keen observation.

“Oh yes,  We are blessed to have a devil in residence at the moment—a temporary guest, but he asked that I send any potential clients his way.” 

You listened to Amira intently and silently. With a face hard to read from Amira's perspective, However, the woman still seemed excited, thinking she could successfully entice the customer as she had intended. 

“Everyone who's paid a visit looks quite changed by the experience.” Amira continues to convince you, hoping to stimulate your curiosity even more. The madam was right that you were very interested in this devil, but certainly not out of infatuation or admiration.

This was because you had a strong intuition that you might know this mysterious devil very well. 

There was no point in keeping the doubt to yourself. You took a breath before firing the last question that lingered in your mind, "Tell me, did the devil give you its name?"

The corners of the lips, painted with red lipstick, widened into a broader smile than before as she uttered the name of someone—someone whose name you didn't want to hear most at this moment.

"Indeed, he did—Raphael."

Raphael 

Exceedingly handsome. and with a voice that could make the foulest blasphemy seem the sweetest hymn

Amira mentioned him like that without exaggeration, not even a bit. Raphael was the embodiment of mesmerizing allure, drawing mortals to worship him instantly upon meeting his gaze. You became aware of this when you first encountered him at the Emerald Grove. introducing himself to you as one of the Lords of Hell and Ruler of the House of Hope.

With sharp facial features and dark red skin like the evening sky, he was towering and majestic. He was always dressed in expensive attire wherever he appeared. He evoked a sense of unease in you at  first sight, reminiscent of the highborn nobles of Baldur's Gate that you despised deeply.

But beyond the despised feeling, there was also discomfort mixed in. Under the red-brown eyes of the devil, every time he gazed at you, it wasn't just surface-level scrutiny; it felt like he was delving deep into your soul, reflecting every sin you've hidden away.

You and Raphael have never crossed paths before, and there wouldn't have been much chance of meeting either. But because you've become a hero and have built up a myriad of adventures outside the city of Baldur's Gate, that drew Raphael's attention significantly. He appears before you, inviting you to visit his home and offering assistance in overcoming the imminent threats to the kingdom. All he asked for was a small pact from you.

You refuse without hesitation. Only fools would sell their souls to the devil.

However, your rejection triggered the ego of the Devil Lord intensely. From then on, the cat-and-mouse game began. He pursued you everywhere, like a shadow, lurking in the darkness and revealing himself in the light. His red-brown eyes watched your every move, waiting for the opportunity to intervene in your adventurous journey. Sometimes he helped you, while other times he intentionally made your life much more difficult. Your existence became excellent entertainment for Raphael, and he was determined not to let you easily escape from him.

You remember well when the devil stood before you, asserting that you had no way to refuse him. No courageous human would dare to reject him, and one day, you would have to crawl back to him in hell, knocking on the door of the House of Hope to beg for his help.

What an absorbed devil he was!

'Little Mouse' Raphael always called you that, with a tone of endearment like a generous person coaxing a child. But this devil was far from being akin to the term 'generosity. He always saw himself as the cat teasing a mouse like you, making you run around and struggle until exhausted before finally smacking you down under his paw, leaving you only to plead for mercy. That was his true desire.

There's no need to guess. Raphael is here because he wants to disturb your emotions, as usual. This thought made you so annoyed that you wanted to walk out and find another bar to drink at. However, escaping felt like accepting losing, and you hated defeat as much as Raphael did. So, you resolved to ignore the devil all day, as long as you didn't come face-to-face with him. There is no reason to lose your temper, right?

You lean back on the wooden chair in front of the bar counter, waiting  for a drink from Hooligan, who is busy concocting drinks for other customers. The contemporary music playing softly through the red curtains on the opposite side helps set the lively and relaxed atmosphere. You let yourself unwind a bit, until a customer sitting nearby turns and greets you in a friendly manner.

"Oh! It's Raphael's favorite misadventurer, aren't you?"

Although you intended not to pay attention to Raphael entirely, you reluctantly acknowledge that his name always manages to catch your interest. Glancing at the person beside you distrustfully, you notice she is a Halfling woman. She holds a large glass of beer in her hand and offers a friendly smile that seems more genuine than hostile. Despite the dark eyes that seem to harbor a hint of mischief, you observe her staff and expensive robes, making a guess that she might be either a witch or a warlock. Yet you're more convinced she's a warlock since she seems to know Raphael well.

"You've put me out of pocket, you know. Raphael bet me five soul coins you'd reach the city in one piece," the petite woman continued, unfazed by your silence and indifferent to your skeptical gaze that turned back to her. "He rented a room upstairs, in the hope that you'd drop by."

"First things first, who are you exactly?"

Finally, you asked what you had been wondering. You had only just met her here today. It was strange that she conversed with you as if you were old acquaintances. This made you even more suspicious because you knew she was connected with Raphael, and Raphael's people were never trustworthy to you. You thought so while touching the sword strapped to your side, ready to fight if necessary.

"Ah, I forgot we've never met. I've had my eyes and ears on you so long, we feel like old friends."

She glanced at your hand gripping the sword hilt and sighed slowly, almost mockingly, before extending her hand towards you.

"Korilla is my name. I'm Raphael's....assistant, shall we say."

You cursed Raphael inwardly. This was the reason he often appeared to you at inconvenient times. He had eyes and ears around you all along, sending people like Korilla to follow you everywhere.

Once, you wondered and even asked him directly if he was intentionally following you. But the devil just laughed and accused you of flattering yourself.

Raphael was quite a tricky devil, able to deceive you like this.

"Sorry, but I don't think I have any business with your master," you replied firmly, refusing even to shake hands with Korilla as a gesture of courtesy.

Korilla didn't take offense at your discourteous actions. Instead, she seemed to empathize with you a little, judging from your whacked expression. She knew you had been through a lot before getting in here. Watching you under Raphael's orders for a long time made her know everything about you, almost as much as she knew about her own master.

Raphael liked you a lot. Korilla knew that well, even though he never said it. and she herself liked you just as much.

"Take your time—have a drink, sample the good. Go see him when you're feeling refreshed."

The halfling warlock spoke before getting up from her seat and walking away. With just a blink of an eye, she disappeared as if she had never been here before, leaving only a faint scent of sulfuric acid, a trademark of the devils swirling beneath your nose, along with bits of hellish ashes scattered on the floor.

You are wondering why she was so confident that you would encounter Raphael.

Overthinking was futile. You brushed away the doubts from your mind and returned to the bar once again. Hooligan sent a business smile similar to Amira's as she placed the polished aluminum glass on the clean wooden table. She was a tall, masculine woman with short hair. You noticed the rough, scared hands, which definitely didn’t come from just poring drinks but from many tales of the battles. You know she’s just like you, or perhaps used to be like you.

"Miss, may I recommend a new drink for you?" Hooligan said as she reached for the ale pitcher nearby and poured it into the glass set in front of you until the thick foam almost spilled over. "My new drink is sure to knock you off your feet."

The rich, dark brown beer exuded a sweet aroma, tantalizing your taste buds. You raised your head to look at Hooligan, considering her offer thoughtfully "Sounds intriguing. How exactly does it knock one off my feet?"

"Oh, I couldn't tell you that! It's not that it's a secret, but I don't even know exactly how it'll turn out. Exciting, isn't it?" Hooligan winked, looking at you scrutinizingly "It might make you stronger, more alert, improve your palate, or knock you out completely. You won't know until its first drop hits your tongue."

You know both of your downsides very well: one - you don't like being challenged, and two - you're not hesitant to try new things, even if they might not sit well with your stomach (like eating glowing mushrooms from the Underdark that gave you a three-day bout of diarrhea).

You didn't take long to think before raising the glass to your lips and saying, 'I'll give it a try.'

'Oh, and don't blame me if there are side effects, like fingers turning into tentacles or your tongue becoming a piece of wood,' the bartender warned you at the end, but it was too late. You had already swallowed the liquid smoothly down your throat.

And you had no idea whatsoever about the side effects... much worse than what Hooligan had cautioned you about.

Everything was just too much. Too much.

You're not sure if this is drunkenness or not. But within seconds, the heat starts rising, scorching from the tip of your tongue down to your gut. Your face flushes with a deep red, and dizziness clouds your mind as if you've downed five glasses instead of just one.

Suddenly, every nerve feels strangely awakened, and emotions are overwhelming and difficult to control. Your senses expand to encompass everything within Sharess' Caress, whether it's taste, smell, sound, or even the pulsating veins beneath your skin.

And right then, you feel the sharp gaze piercing directly toward you, from somewhere neither near nor far.

You lift your gaze to the second floor of the brothel, peering through the oakwood ceiling. While the eyes of ordinary humans like yours couldn't penetrate beyond, you sense there's someone up there, someone with enough ability to observe you from a distance stealthily.

Raphael

For a moment, you recall Korilla's words from earlier

"Take your time—have a drink, sample the good. Go see him when you're feeling refreshed."

Perhaps it's the effect of the drink that makes you feel so invigorated, almost recklessly bold, mixed with a touch of annoyance since you learned you've been watched by the Devil himself from the start.

Suddenly, you feel the urge to tease Raphael.  It's not that you've never teased Raphael before, but this time, the alcohol coursing through your veins seems to be a significant factor in stimulating your mind.

Just the thought of seeing Raphael frustrated lifts your mood instantly.

Without hesitation, you rise to your feet, flexing your muscles slightly before relaxing them.  You do not forget to leave two gold coins for Hooligan as payment for the ale. Then you stride confidently towards the staircase, adorned with red carpeting. Prepare yourself for the confrontation that is bound to happen very soon.

Devil’s Dan

You read the name of the room with a small chuckle. You had thought it would take longer to find Raphael's room, but the letters inscribed on the prominent wooden sign next to the door immediately caught your eye. It was as if the Devil himself was shouting at you, saying, ‘I'm here!’

Korilla wasn't lying when she said her master was eagerly waiting to meet you. Raphael did everything to reveal to you that he was here.

You pushed open the large wooden door and stepped inside. The scent of incense and faint sulphur greeted your nose.

"Well, well, Little Mouse finally emerges from its hole. I thought you wouldn't dare to face me."

Raphael's soft voice echoed before you could see him.  You turned towards the sound and met the gaze of the familiar and handsome dark-skinned man in a sleek, red-lined noble's attire. From head to toe, he exuded refinement. He sat in a luxurious chair at the center of the room, with papers, ink bottles, wine glasses, and an unfinished chessboard on the table before him. His arms rested on the armrests, fingers interlaced in front of him. His gestures were graceful and confident, yet subtly commanding.

However, you couldn't deny that Raphael in human form was remarkably beautiful. He seemed more like an Aasimar than a Cambion.

Yet, a devil is a devil through, no matter what. His beautiful appearance is crafted to lure human souls, including yours.

However, you remained the only person who didn't fall into Raphael's tempting trap.

For Raphael, you were fundamentally different from the many mortals of Faerûn. Whether in centuries or millennia, you remained steadfast and never bowed your head to anyone, not even to a god or devil like him. You were stubborn yet willing to compromise, threaten, and negotiate when necessary, choosing to handle everything through diplomacy rather than force. And you did it all with remarkable finesse.

He still remembered the time when Astarion, the white-haired High Elf vampire who was your team companion, came to plead with him to help read the symbols carved on his back by his old master's hand. But because devils never helped anyone for free, Raphael offered to kill Yurgir, one of the Orthons who had escaped from him, as an exchange.  You were reluctant to agree with him, but you accepted to help your friend without realizing it was a suicide mission.

Yurgir was a fiend adept at slaughtering, one of the formidable of hell. Many brave souls had agreed to deal with Raphael to kill this fiend, exchanging fame, gold, and impossible desires—but none had ever succeeded.

Until you. You were the only one who succeeded effortlessly, using only your persuasive skills and wit to deceive the foolish Fiend into killing himself and staying in hell under his power once again. Fulfilling the pact beautifully and seamlessly.

That was just one of his impressions from many stories of yours that Raphael closely monitored, initially hoping to see your failures. Instead, you always left him fascinated with every feat you accomplished. Eventually, your name—a mere human—had been deeply engraved in his mind.

It's been a long time since Raphael has enjoyed anyone's company as much as yours. And it's difficult for him to let a little mouse like you slip away from his claws.

Surprise flashed on the devil lord's face as you walked in to see him so casually, without provocation or fleeing as usual. You sank into the chair opposite, crossed your arms, and looked at him with a strange smile before bursting into laughter, which only fueled Raphael's curiosity even more.

"What's so funny?" he asked impatiently when you still didn't speak.

"Nothing really," you shrugged, still chuckling, "I just didn't expect you to do something like this."

You stopped speaking intentionally, leaving the devil more curious than before. You always knew how to tease and surprise Raphael, making it a small, subtle entertainment between you and him.

"Amira said this place has new upper-level prostitutes, a handsome devil," you added mischievously.

You lowered your eyes in a gleefully mood when you saw Raphael's expression change immediately as you spoke. 

You didn't make up the story yourself; Amira told you so. It seemed the madam misunderstood severely, thinking that trading human souls was equivalent to trading sexual services. Also, Raphael hadn't revealed his true status to her because he didn't pay attention to lowly humans. So, in Amira's eyes, this devil was just one of the temporary prostitutes here for some sinful indulgence.

The grandiose ruler of the Nine Hells had turned into nothing more than a whore in Baldur's Gate. Isn't that funny?

"Amira said you have so many guests. I'm curious how much those people have to pay to fuck a grand devil like you." 

You paused abruptly. The seemingly comfortable afternoon air suddenly turned heavy, suffocating, and oppressive—as if you were just a tiny ant ready to be crushed underfoot at any moment. You trembled, feeling both cold and feverish, sweating profusely all over your skin. It felt like the scorching flames of hell were passing through your body rapidly.

You swallowed hard, struggled, and started to regret what you just said. It seemed like you might have gone too far because Raphael, who always enjoyed teasing you, chose to remain silent—ominously quiet.

You thought he was angry. Surely, he must be angry. Yet why did the one who should be angry crack such a strange and untrustworthy smile like that?

The hairs on your neck stood as the devil leaned closer. In the blink of an eye, the human form transformed into a full-fledged devil. Dark red skin returned to its fiery origin. Wide, menacing wings spread a threat. The devil's smile remained. He grasped your chin with sharp, clawed fingers, pressing hard enough to hurt but not enough to draw blood.

The yellow, fiery eyes gleamed vividly, refusing to look away. Flames flickered within those dual orbs, said to resemble venomous snakes, representatives of sin and vice. But Raphael was more than that. You thought he could drag you to hell with just a glance.

"Of course, my worth is quite high," he said, his voice both silky and dangerous. "But since you, little mouse, dare to ask,. I'll offer you a special discount just for you."

Before you could retort, every word was swallowed by the devil's lips, engulfed by the Lord of Hell's mouth as if claimed dominantly. Your breath is taken away and replaced by a strange new taste, burning like flames ignited by a matchstick.  arousing sensations of arousal from head to toe.

Your eyes widen, and your breathing quickens in sync with your heartbeat. You know this isn't right. Raphael is the devil, the person you should flee from the most. But your body responds in contradiction. The effects of the alcohol persist, and you're too weak to resist, even though you can't admit to yourself that you're content with this kiss.

The moment lingers, almost eternal, as the devil hopes to extinguish mortal life with the touch of his lips.

Finally, Raphael withdraws his lips, allowing you to catch your breath once more. His long nails still grasp your chin, studying the woman before him; your flushed face is now even more red and radiant than before.

"Little mouse, so impolite and uncouth. How fortunate you are to still be my favorite. If it were someone else, they wouldn't have a tongue or mouth to speak so freely like this again." Raphael smirked, trailing light kisses along the edge of your lips to your earlobe. Normally, he couldn't read your mind at all, but this time, it's as easy as reading the morning newspaper—Everything you think or feel at this moment.

Certainly, beer plays a part, but other components are just as important.

From the missing prostitutes to the mysterious priest murder and the toy bomb case, the evil deeds of humans are all connected to the devil, more or less.

And everything leads you here, falling into his hands.

You are overly confident. You always think you're the one in control of the game. But that's your mistake. No matter how hard you struggle, you're just a little mouse, dancing and following his plan. And he always enjoys the game of chasing mice with you.

"Why are you so quiet, little mouse? has the cat got your tongue?" Raphael teased you. when you, who have been skilled in provocation, keep silent. He found it somewhat amusing to see you trying to maintain self-control, as well as the little remaining dignity in you, even if it failed utterly.

Your breath stuck, and Raphael's touch felt like a paralyzing ray spell. You wanted to argue, to refute, to draw your sword against him, but you knew you couldn't. Every cause and effect had stopped working in your mind when you fell under the gaze of those yellow eyes, and his nails still lingered on your face.

You've been in dangerous situations many times before, and you know that what's happening right now is no less dangerous than escaping from the goblin camp or facing the God of Death. But what sets it apart from everything else is that you don't feel scared or angry, but rather, you feel the excitement coursing through every corner of your body as his hands explore, pushing beyond the boundaries that you and he usually tease each other with. It awakens something that you've tried to suppress all along.

For whatever reason, both he and you know well enough that he wants you just as much as you want him, especially at this moment—right now.

Playing with Raphael is like playing with fire. You know it deep in your heart. When he pulls you close with his tail, the curve of his lips forms a wicked smile. and those intense eyes of his gleaming with desire, resembling the fiery hell that attracts the lost souls towards him like moths.

With just a flick of his finger, Raphael can easily manage to unravel your armor. He's done it before with Astarian, mocking and revealing the marks from hell on the vampire's back.

But it's too easy for him, and the Devil Lord doesn't fancy anything that comes too easily. You know him as well as he knows you.

Each of Raphael's hands undoes some part of the armor, graceful and flexible, like the way he handles his luxurious cloak. The sound of metal hitting the wooden floor momentarily brings back the remaining shreds of sanity. Part of you wants to test Raphael like you tested Halsin—the archdruid from Emerald Grove who charm you. You just want to see how far it will go and where it will stop.

But it turns out that you are testing your own patience.

You bite your lip unknowingly as Raphael's finger moves up to your bare thigh. You want to reject him, to feel disgusted at the touch, but every part of you is calling out to him. You realize that being with him every second makes you feel like you're floating in the middle of a dark, endless ocean with no way forward and no idea where to stop. In the end, you'll probably succumb to drowning, for sure.

"I think I should ask Amira for a refund," you say, hating how hollow your voice sounds. "You're more drab than the drow twins downstairs." You didn't intend to utter the final sentence, knowing that you're at a disadvantage now to challenge him. But it's hard to resist, given the old habit between you and him of always looking for ways to annoy each other.

"Is that so?" Raphael chuckled softly, always admiring your boldness in every situation, even now. "No refunds unless you've already experienced the service."

You were about to retort, but the chance to argue was abruptly shut down when the devil's finger slid inside of you, teasing your clit so skillfully that you had to raise your hand to cover your mouth. Yet, you couldn't quite muffle the soft, moaning sound. Raphael responded to your expression with another laugh, leaning forward to plant a kiss on your smooth neck. His two fingers did a good job of continuously stoking your emotions.

The changes in your facial expressions and the huskiness in your voice as his finger part your fold and glide against your slick.  provided more entertainment for Raphael than any other time you and he faced off.

The heat enveloped your entire body. You could barely feel anything except the sinful delight and the hot breath beside your ear. Raphael's lips traced along your flushed skin, leaving marks everywhere. You couldn't stop the soft moans escaping through your parted lips anymore. Your mind is driven by escalating desires.

"Judging by the moans, I'd consider it a compliment," Raphael teased, seizing the opportunity to mock you. His hand pressed against your back, drawing your body closer to his. He enjoyed watching your contorted face with delight while his fingertips brushed against wet lips between your legs

He knows you're on the edge. and the devil never misses the opportunity to tease his favorite little mouse. Raphael abruptly stopped all actions, flashing a smirk at your frustrated expression and the lingering arousal he had induced.

"Raphael!"

You hissed at him, while Raphael remained feignedly indifferent. His claws dragged slowly over every curve of your body, leaving marks all over your skin, intentionally marking his ownership. It incited your desires slowly and ruthlessly. You knew he wanted to provoke you, but your mind was too empty to retort or even to curse back.

"I want to hear you beg me."

Raphael held your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. Both authoritative and arrogant, you've always detested the way his voice held power, but now it sent tremors through your body. Emotions surged, nearly overwhelming you. You closed your eyes briefly, feeling embarrassed, wanting to disappear and be unnoticed.

Your voice is trembling desperately with every word that falls from your lips. "I need more," You whimpered. "Please, Raphael."

In the blink of an eye, before you could even react, you realized your role had been flipped beneath Raphael's frame. On the soft silk-covered bed, his arms became bars that caged you tightly. His rough lips aggressively bruise your lips with a taste of intense heat and the sting of expensive wine, intoxicating you more than Hooligan's ale.

"I have a new proposal for you," Raphael whispered, his lips linger at your ears. "I'll make you remember today forever. I will fuck you in a way no one in Faerûn has ever made you feel."

The hot breath brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "And in exchange for the extraordinary experience I'll give you after this, you'll belong to me and me alone."

‘It's unfair’. You gritted your teeth, suppressing the urge with boiling emotions. "You're so evil," you cussed, certain that he intended to torment you cruelly. with such an inequitable proposition, while you were closer to the edge

He wouldn't explicitly force you, but he wouldn't give you the chance to reject it either. Just like a true devil who seeks maximum benefit for himself in every situation.

"Of course, I am very evil." Raphael smiled, gladly accepting your compliment. "You should understand this is a privilege for you. Just know how honored you are that I lower myself to fuck you."

Raphael never let go of his haughtiness, even when it came to sex. Both Incubus and succubus knew well that Raphael never played the role of giving to anyone; he's only indulging in the pleasures offered by others. It wasn't his duty to bestow sexual pleasure on those inferior to him.

But with you, it was entirely different. From every devil he had ever shared a bed with, the moment you pleaded with him with a soft, desperate voice, and with tears of pure joy pooling in those beautiful eyes, Raphael immediately realized that this was the moment he had been waiting for.

He enjoyed excessively the fact that he could make you cry out and beg him desperately. It pleased him immensely to show you how much he could make you submit to him.

Greed is one of the sins and the essence of every devil. Spending time with you has awakened Raphael's greed without you even realizing it. He knows well that he wants more than this and even more. He won't stop until you - both body and soul - become his completely.

"Make it worth my while, and I'll consider the offer again." 

Your response widened the devil's smile. His intimidating golden eyes gleamed with a terrifying allure. "Challenge accepted."

There was no warning, as the mere chance to tease you was what Raphael enjoyed the most. He grabs your hips, pulls you close, and inserts his swollen tip into your entrance in one swift motion. The devil chuckled softly at your stunned expression, followed by a faint curse, until there was just a moan as he began moving slowly and heavily.

The rough touch of the devil's skin clashed with the softness of your thighs, repeatedly and rhythmically. Every movement accentuated the spot of ecstasy that made you groan louder. It filled you with an unexpected pleasure that you never imagined feeling. Raphael didn't exaggerate when he said he would fuck you in a way that no one in Faerûn could. He knew exactly what to do to make you feel so good that there was no way to forget this day. And it seemed like he was enjoying himself as well. Raphael breathed heavily, lingering at your hips, his girth slowly stretched your slick silky wall, embracing his length perfectly, as if it were made for him—for him alone.

"My little mouse... do you still want to say that I'm more boring than these prostitutes here?" Raphael didn't hesitate to mock you, alluding to your previous insults.  making you want to claw at his smug face or slap his arrogant mouth, but all you could do was tightly grip the bedsheet to vent the tingling that he relentlessly injected into you. Your helpless state seemed to please him so much. When you felt his cock inside you trembling and expanding slightly more, causing your legs to tremble when he slammed deeper into you

Seeing you overwhelmed by the taste of pleasure he gave you, Raphael felt even more delighted. His lips moved down to your neck, kissing and biting the skin aggressively, causing you to flinch with pain. But it also ignited your arousal. Excitement flowed through your core as Raphael continued to nibble on your neck. with each thrust into the tight, warm of your walls.

That's not enough for him. His fingers run up your legs, climbing up until they reach your chest. He squeezes the soft, pliant breast with full force. leaving bruises that you're sure will be evident the next morning. Yet, you don't protest. Deep down, you enjoy what he does, especially when Raphael's fingers tease your tits, increasing your arousal almost to madness. As his thick hips press against you, driving you nearly breathless with the overwhelming pleasure.

"Do you like it? Little mouse," Raphael asks, though he knows full well you're not in a state to converse anymore at this point.

Your arms cling tightly to his broad shoulders, gasping with the overwhelming feeling flooding your senses.  His forceful push makes your head spin, almost causing you to lose consciousness at every moment. Raphael's thrust becomes more intense, as if he knows you're about to reach climax, tempting you to scream again. However, Raphael's lips cut in before you could, slipping his tongue into your mouth, tasting you with a messy, tantalizing kiss and a feeling of odd intimacy.

With the final thrust, the whole world in your sight changes. Your vision blurs, lost in the mist of pleasure. You feel like you're being consumed by Raphael's touch, which expands to encompass every inch of you, inside and out.

Your nails dig into his broad shoulders. Your body trembles uncontrollably. A growl escapes Raphael's throat as he buries himself deep inside you, releasing white hot seeds of ecstasy, fulfilling and scorching your stomach, melting you until you can hardly resist, and succumbing under the complete embrace of the devil's sin.

Raphael doesn't miss watching you during this time. As your flushed face twists with lust, your rapid, ragged breaths cling to the lingering joy. Sweat covers your skin, making you shimmer and impressive. also seem so fragile and vulnerable. So fragile that he's sure he could crush you with just one finger.

But he won't do that.

Raphael muses to himself before easing himself beside you, pulling you into his arm. He finds some satisfaction in the fact that he can make you speechless for a moment. But he secretly misses the sound of your annoying voice as well

"It's time for our pact, isn't it?" 

Your brow furrows slightly as you look at the devil beside you, who has reverted to his human form. This is when your consciousness begins to settle in again, along with your resentment towards Raphael. You can't help but berate yourself. You've always thought making a deal with the devil was foolish, but fucking the devil you despise is even more foolish. 

And what's worse is that you don't even feel a bit of regret for what's happening.

"If being yours means I have to serve you and go out to kill someone for you, then I won't do it."

Raphael is almost laughing at your response. Despite being unarmed and vulnerable, you haven't lost your confidence, not even a little. That's why he finds you more impressive than any mortal. Because you always manage to make him intrigued.

"This isn't about your mission or mine," Raphael said, tracing his thumb along your lower lip before pressing a slow and lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I just want to make sure we have these special moments like this more often, that's all."

One thing you learned about devils after encountering Raphael is that they always speak the truth, but never all of it. 

You lock eyes with Raphael in his full human guise. Though there's a hint of playfulness in some of his words, you can discern the seriousness and darkness lurking beneath the veiled sentences. Though you are not entirely sure what he wants from you, you sense that he anticipates your answers more than usual.

You don't have much choice because the heroes never go back on their words. And even though you're reluctant to admit it, deep down, you too desire moments like these again.

You nod unwillingly. Your reluctant expression makes Raphael smile broadly. Your small defeats bring him greater satisfaction. Although he knows you're too stubborn and too tough to easily succumb to him, and he knows even that you'll find a way to get back at him painfully later, for sure.

But that's why he's always been infatuated with you. Your conflict with him is part of the game you've been playing all along. It's the only amusement he'll never find from anyone, except in you.

And so begins the game of cat and mouse anew between him and you. A game with no losers or winners. But this time, Raphael is confident that it will be his. whether the game or you.

Because a pact is a pact, and he'll make sure you become his most prized possession, locked within the house of hopes, you will be his trophy that no one in Faerûn can admire except him.

[kiwikipedia]

Now I’m Not Saying That I Should Be Allowed To Design Servants For Fate, But....

Summer Unit, Caster Chiron has Arrived! As the immortal Caretaker and Teacher of Mount Pelion, there’s little doubt that he knows all the tips and tricks to survive a coastal month in the sun. What’s that? The Constellation is wrong? Sagittarius? Don’t be silly, Chiron’s always embodied the Constellation Centaurus. Always.

Costume Dress(es), Individual Stills for the new Sprites (Asc 3), Notes, and Taglist below the cut :)

That "Always" bit is meant to be somewhat ominous which hints at the whole "rewriting and creating heroes" idea in my last post about this Eternal Summer Stage event.

And if i am to be 100% honest, I don't quite like the final result still in terms of the toga, however, I know that if I keep working on it it will never get done and that's just the way that artists are lol. The effects and everything else though? Beyond what I was even expecting for it to turn out as.

Anywho.

In terms of design, I was mostly just going for the "Dad who has the Cooler" with a casual look for the first two designs and the costume dress really isn't a drastic change either just being called Hatless. The final ascension was a more divine feel where you get that connection with the stars and space that Chiron has due to his constellations. The Costume change there is just "Divine Blessing". I honestly couldn't pick between the two colors so. Costume Dress.

So. Anyways. Each of the stars in the final ascension design are the major "Centauri" stars within Centaurus, the Constellation that Chiron/his NP is embodying here rather than Sagittarius.

The large star that Chiron has in hand is Theta Centauri, also called Menkent, and then the ones on the staff are Alpha-Gamma Centauri.

The top three stars are Alpha Centauri or Rigil Kentaurus and Toliman, and Proxima Centauri. The three make up the full Alpha Centauri as the two blue stars are a binary system that Proxima orbits

The middle two are Beta Centauri or Hadar and Agena, another binary star pair

The lower two are Gamma Centauri which is another binary star group but are unnamed

Actually, the myth of Centaurus is a little wonky because certain texts refer to Centaurus as the Father of all Centaurs and the constellation is because he put an image of himself in the sky where others point to it being the other constellation that Zeus turned Chiron into instead of Sagittarius. Honestly, I'm more inclined to the latter due to conflicting texts about mount Pelion and the Centaurs themselves as it's implied that Chiron was already on Pelion before the other Centaurs arrived in some texts

("The Kentauroi were spawned by the cloud-nymph Nephele after she was violated by the impious Lapith king Ixion. She deposited her double-formed brood on Mount Pelion where they were nursed by the daughters of the immortal kentauros Kheiron (Chiron).")

So at least in this/my version of Myth/Fate, Centaurus is Chiron as a Caster and Healer but no less a teacher, rather than the more combat-ready and "war-like" Sagittarius.

I don't have everything mapped out, but I do have skills and NP sorta created, if I actually ever get to the full thing, who is to say lmao.

1st Skill: Seaside Planning

Buffs Healing Skill (self), Attack up (all units)

2nd Skill: Teacher's Guiding Hand

Target Focus (1 turn), Invincibility (1 turn), Defense up for all units, Battlefield change to Forest

3rd Skill: Blessing of Artemis / Blessing of Apollo (costume change)

Applies "Blessings of the Moon" or “Blessings of the Sun” to all units ( Defense Up, Heal Per Turn, NP gain Up, Crit Up)

Noble Phantasm: Hunt of Lupus: Protector of Mount Pelion | Quick

Rank: A NP Type: Anti-Personnel Range: 5-99 Maximum Targets: 1

A single target Noble Phantasm much like Antares Snipe, however, while Sagittarius uses a bow, Centaurus uses his staff to sweep through and pierce the body of Lupus. This is the story of Chiron. However, here, his job is not finished. The slaying of "Lupis" ends, and thus the Teacher and protector of Pelion returns to those he protects and tends to them.

At its base, one could call it the Single Target version of Geronimo's Tsago Degi Naleya in which it deals damage and heals the party after.

"Entrust to me the stars and my Guiding hand shall lead you, o watchmen of the night. I encircle myself twice with the seven heavenly bodies so that I may continue my role among the stars. You who has woken me, fall. Hunt of Lupus."

Truth be told, still workshopping the Noble Phantasm, but it's fine, it's out there as a concept. It's a lot like Antares Snipe though, I guess? Because I did want to lean into the Greek and Constellation side of things and just. Oh well. Originally, though, I was going to make Chiron and Chariclo one Servant, and then have their Noble Phantasm be Chariclo's ("Lifeblood of Mount Pelion") but then split them up because idk I enjoy hell. They're both casters though, because I refuse to put more Rulers into the already bloated Ruler cast.

I do not have voice lines at the moment despite the fact that I have all of Chariclo and all of Agravain's finished lol

Taglist Form or feel free to ask me to get tagged (just DM!):

@jedifisto​​ @spaceydragons​​ @purgetrooperfox​​ @spacerocksarethebestrocks​ @insanelytomato @babygirljoelmiller @certified-anakinfucker @d3epfriedanger @thecodyagenda @babygirl-leon-kennedy​ @txtalnyx​ @jawajawas​ @ge-ge-ge-ge-genifer

Please tell me if you want to be taken off of the list as this is no longer just Star Wars art

Additional Tags for those who have been interested in Summer Chiron previously (i hope you dont mind):

@300iqprower @bitterrosebrokenspear

[alwaysjustmina]

Whispers of Rain

Chapter 6: You get what you give, you reap what you sow

Note: no major warnings for this chapter, but hold onto your pants people. It's getting even more mixed up!

Thank you to @papaslittlesunshine for betaing and @kamonart as always for the beautiful art for this story! And if course @midnight-moth for listening to my depraved thoughts!

When they got back from the party, Ifrit was quick to deposit them back to their locked room without any further conversation, the lock on the door quickly being turned from the outside again.  Dew swiftly sequestered himself in the bathroom, stripping the revealing garment from his body and collapsing in the shower.  He needed to get the smell of Ifrit off of him, the desire so strong he practically ripped the clothes from his body.  As he sat on the floor of the shower, his knees drawn to his chest, letting the scalding water caress him like a lover, finding comfort in Rain’s element, wishing it was him washing his body, promising Dew that Ifrit wouldn’t hurt him anymore. 

Dew wondered if someday he would be unable to cry anymore.  Would he become so numb to the pain?  

Lost in his thoughts, he barely heard the light knock on the door from Eidolon asking if he was alright.  Dew answered with a shrug that Eidolon couldn’t see.  When he got no answer, he opened the door quietly and slipped into Dew’s self made isolation.  When he heard the whimpers from Dew in the shower, he stripped down to his boxers and entered the self made oasis.  

“Dew, can I help?”  He asked timidly.

Dew nodded, unable to help himself at this point.

Eidolon bent down to assist Dew to his feet, helping Dew to drape his arms over his shoulders as he gripped his waist, while grabbing the body wash and washcloth from Dew.

He softly washed his body, careful of his sensitive areas, making sure to ask before he touched him in those spots.  He didn’t want to be another person to violate Dew’s body.  Eidolon turned Dew from him, washing his hair gently, lathering the shampoo, then the conditioner.  As Eidolon’s long fingers carded through Dew’s hair he could feel his slight body sag into him the longer they stood in the shower.  His body, shutting down from the anxiety, stress, torture, sleep grasping at him to escape this place.  Eidolon applied ointment to the too many bites on his skin after he deposited Dew on the bed.   Wrapped only in a fluffy towel, Eidolon tried to get Dew dressed, but his body had given up and just wanted under the covers.  Eidolon helped him, pulling the covers up, tucking him in, brushing his hair from his face.  When he went to move off the bed, Dew grabbed his wrist, his eyes shooting open in panic.

“Stay?”

Eidolon could have sworn he heard a please as well, but was already moving to the otherside of the bed, to join Dew under the covers.  When he settled into the bed, Dew grabbed his hand holding it close to his side.  Eidolon watched as sleep finally overtook him, watching and protecting him from whatever evil he could, even if it was just for a few hours.

***********************************

Dew slept, and in his sleep reliving memories of better times.

After his and Rain’s perfect nights by the seaside marina, they found themselves back in the middle of the tour.  Stealing moments where they could.  The following night after being back, before the next ritual, Dew watched Rain from a darkened corner off to the side of the stage bobbing his head to the first of two opening acts. They had a good hour, maybe an hour and a half before they needed to change and get ready for stage time.  Dew smiled at him as he talked to Swiss and tapped the beat on his jeans, something Swiss said made him smile.  He wondered what he said, he wished he was holding his hand, enjoying their new found normal.

Dew quickly pulled his phone from his pocket, texting him with a small smile gracing his lips.

Otter: I wish I could run my fingers through your hair right now.  It looks even softer in the stage lights.

Rain felt the vibration and pulled his phone from his pocket, opening up the message.  Reading the chat, Dew could see his chest rise in sharp inhalation, looking around trying to find where Dew was, when he couldn’t he texted back.

Selkie: Where are you?  

Otter: Find me?

Rain didn’t notice that Swiss had slipped away to find his own amusement, Rain didn’t care.

Otter: Run your fingers through your hair, let me see how soft it is?

Rain smiled, doing as he was instructed, maybe also dragging his fingers down his throat, as he continued to look for Dew.

Otter: Fuck, baby.

Selkie: If you told me where you are, you could be doing this.

Otter: But, I want to watch you experience the pleasure of how beautiful you are.

Selkie:  Dew…

Otter:  You aren’t even trying to find me. 

Rain disappeared further from the side of the stage into the shadows, trying to seek where Dew was standing.  Stumbling in the dark, tripping over the cords and empty containers.  As he got further in the recesses, he could barely see anything; it was so dark.  Normally the stagehands used flashlights back this far if they had an emergency to locate something, trying to not use lights in this area while acts were in the middle of their sets.  Rain didn’t want to use the flashlight on his phone either, trying to not bring attention to their hopeful trist.

His phone lit up again as a new message was sent through.

Otter:  You're so warm, hot even.  What is taking you so long?

Rain growled, like he was trying to not find him.  He moved a few more steps, still not finding Dew.  

Selkie:  Dew, please, need you.  

Otter: Please?  

Selkie:  I will be happy to beg, if you help me find you.

Dew moved silently from his spot a few feet away, shadowing Rain’s body, as his warm breath played along his neck.

“You’ll beg?  This can be arranged.”  

Read the rest on AO3

[wolfpants]

hd wireless claim: everybody hates a tourist

Everybody Hates a Tourist | Rated E | 51.5k

“Why’d you ask me to meet?”

It’s a good question. Draco doesn’t have a good answer for it (boredom, morbid curiosity—the same excuses as Potter), so instead, he says, “Take one,” and he holds out his packet of cigarettes. 

Potter stares at it. 

“Do you smoke?” Draco asks.

“Only when I’m nervous.”

Draco shakes the packet. “Well, then? Take one.”

🦀🐚⚓️

On a stag do in sunny Brighton with the Gryffindor lads, the last person Harry expects to run into is Draco Malfoy. After a glimpse of Malfoy’s Muggle life in Britain’s gay capital, Harry’s curiosity gets the better of him and he finds himself returning to the seaside again and again, drawn to the city, drawn to this new version of Malfoy that Harry barely recognises from school. Meanwhile, Draco’s just trying to live his big and best queer life: working for the weekend, chasing hot men, getting lost in Brighton's nightlife, and making friends with the neighbourhood cats. Why does his former school rival and crush have to show up and spoil everything?

So excited to be claiming my entry for this year's amazing @hd-wireless! Thank you so much to @getawayfox @thehoneybeet and @skeptiquewrites for your feedback, read throughs, and thoughtful betaing/alphaing/cheering, you're all amazing; thank you to @maesterchill for the brilliant prompt (pulp forever!); thank you to the wireless mods for putting on this fantastic fest and organising everything so smoothly; and thank you to everyone who has read and/or engaged with this fic while it was anon - you're all incredible. love to you all!

read everybody hates a tourist on ao3

[chiriwritesstuff]

The Impossible Man ✨ 2. A Case of You ✨

Modern-Day Detective! Din Djarin x Witchy! Reader (Soulmates! AU)

Previous Chapter ✨ Series Masterlist

Summary: For someone being born into a magical family, a curse placed on the women of your bloodline means you have mostly avoided witchcraft and its calling for the majority of your life. After a life-altering tragedy, you turn your back on your family and your gift and seek out a more normal, boring existence, devoid of magic, and mostly, of love. What happens when the ghosts of your past threaten your peaceful existence and you are forced to reconcile all that you have lost? Will you let the people you have abandoned in your past life back into your heart? Will the appearance of an impossible man you have unknowingly cursed yourself break the chains of love? Will you let him?

Chapter Rating: M

Chapter Warnings: Magical Realism, Mentions of (Attempted Suicide), Implied Violence, Domestic Violence, Improper Usage of Belladonna (use a measuring device!), Mentions of minor character death, (Some) Men are the absolute worst, Petty theft (by Din), Meddling Vi and Omera (the dream team), This is severely un-beta-ed (I will fix this! don't worry!), someone dies multiple times in one night and I am not sad about it ONE BIT.

A/N: Detective Din Djarin enters the chat.

Banner by @chiriwritesstuff ✨ Dividers by @saradika

Word Count: 8.7 K (WHOOPS)

Ladies and Gentlemen, we have begun our descent into Seattle, Washington. Please turn off all portable electronic devices and stow them until we have arrived at the gate. In preparation for our descent, be certain your seat is upright and your seatbelt is fastened. Thank you for flying with Delta Airlines, and we hope you have a good afternoon.

Ten years. 

It's been ten years since that awful, god-forsaken, terrible night.  

Ten years since you turned your back on it all. Your family - on Fennic, on Omera, on Vi. Ten years since you picked up the little urn of Ben’s remains at the crematory. Ten years since you packed up the entirety of your life in that little apartment in Queen Anne - your dream home - closing the door one last time, entombing all of the laughter, the late nights in bed holding each other, all of the love you made, never to be opened ever again. Ten years that you swore that you would never come back. Ten years since you flew yourself down to Montauk, Ben in that little urn, in tow - to where he was born and raised - scattering his remains at the edge of the ocean -  like how he would have wanted. He loved Montauk - its beaches, its little seaside villages along the coast. You didn't want to bury him - here, in Washington, in Seattle, far away from home, rotting until his body dissolved into worms and merged with the Earth, ceasing to exist. He promised you, that you would go back once this was all over - he just didn’t say that it would be like this. That it would end, like this. 

You ran. Your feet bare, running on the cool wet dew of the grass as you flee the only place you ever felt was home, your heart still raw and broken and cracked from the devastation and betrayal by the people you thought you loved the most. You found yourself at the edge of your aunt's property, along the vastness and depth of Puget Sound - screaming for the crashing of the waves to consume you whole.  Take me, take me, take me instead, you begged to the universe, to god, to whoever could be possibly listening.  

You didn't know what hurt more, the fact that you allowed yourself to bring an unsuspecting soul to be dammed by your selfishness, or the fact that it was your flesh and blood that led you down this path in the first place - forcing you to question every interaction, every poignant moment in your relationship - if it was real, and genuine, without the magical push or influence of a spell. You were okay before, before the possibility and eventuality of Ben - You resigned yourself to be alone, to be kind to whoever would bring the prospect of companionship by sacrificing your heart, your desires, your childish hopes and dreams. Being with Ben was to appease the little girl who believed in the notion of being loved, or allowing that little part of you - that tiny bit of delusion that lay dormant in you for the first twenty or so years of your existence - to doubt something so monumental as being cursed, with a possibility of love and a connection, a devotion - that was so deep, so meaningful that you dared to be happy, to be blissfully in love, knowing that in the back of your mind, where reason actually existed - that it had an expiration date. That it was always there, chained by fate, bound by magic, written in blood. 

Who were you to think that you were the exemption?

It was a setup - the precinct, the press, the official report written by Detective Djarin, said. 

You never did end up going to the station that night - to meet your husband's - Ben's- faceless partner who messaged him in the early morning with the promise of a lead, a promise of this hell to be finally over with.  We got him, the text read. Yes, you got him, Detective Djarin - but at what cost? One soulless bastard for the life of another? Hell, you blamed him - Din Djarin - a rookie recruit from New Mexico - you blamed him the most, and you've never even met the guy.  

Ben was always careful. He was never brash, or cavalier - he was meticulous - he planned everything to a T, didn't burst through the doors guns a-blazing, always upheld the statures of the law. He never put himself in a position on the grounds of a hunch, no - he had too much self-preservation, he had too much to lose. Perhaps it was in his carefulness that they partnered him up with Din in the first place. Ben was a good detective - but he had no backbone. No edge. Too soft in a job where you needed to be hard. Too compassionate, too fair. It was all that he was lacking - that his younger new partner embodied. Ben was in awe of him. Wanted to prove himself in the eyes of the rookie detective that he could be all of these things, that he could - and would - do the things necessary to get the bad guy, no matter the cost. To lead by example.

But where did that get him? 

Shot in cold blood, left to die. 

Sure, we didn’t forget about the curse. But if we were completely honest, if Detective Din Djarin didn’t light that fire up his ass in the first place, he would have stayed, with you, that morning.

No. You’re both complicit. 

Din Djarin may have made him more bold, more brash, and maybe even a little more brave. But it was you, and your childish hopes, and dreams, and your need for this insignificant thing that you call love - it was you that signed off on his eventual demise the moment you let him in, the moment you selfishly brought him into your orbit. 

Starshine.

Your eyes open, your head pressed onto your keyboard as your eyes adjust to the lack of light in your apartment. You glance at the bright white glare of your computer monitor, 12:14 a.m. at the corner of the screen. Groaning, you force yourself to sit upright at your desk chair, flexing your toes and stretching your back from all the stiffness you would feel after sleeping at your desk.  

"Starshine," you hear in your mind, your sister's pained voice reverberating through your bones. Your eyes scan through the mess of your tabletop, looking for your phone among the chaos.

15 missed calls.

35 text messages

1 voicemail, 10m 

Vi.  

Fuck, when was the last time I checked my notifications?

You call her back.  

We're sorry, but your call cannot be connected as dialed.

*Hi Starshine, I know it's been a while...*

*Are you there?*

*I miss you*

*There was a strange man that came in looking for you, he was kind of cute, in a weird, kinda intense way!*

*I met someone! His name is Geoff!*

*Are you busy? I need to hear your voice*

*Please talk to me, I miss you*

*I'm in trouble, Starshine, I'm so scared...*

Your eyes scan through the texts, the urgency and pain of your sister's plight being frantically sent out - in secret - you deduce, her feeling of duress flowing through you as if you were in there in real-time, ducking against the corner of the room, behind her bed, trembling in fear in complete darkness, the heavy pacing and the silhouette of a man's feet behind her bedroom door. You can feel the moisture of her tears, the white salty streaks staining her face.

"Fuck!" you whisper as you pace around your apartment, the skyscrapers of New York City illuminating your windows.  

Oh god, what's happening, Vi?

The phone in your hands starts to vibrate, Vi's face illuminating on the screen.  

"Vi? Where are you?" you whisper.

"Come home, Starshine... I'm scared. I need you.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. 

Next stop, Westlake Station.

You rest against the window of the rail car, holding up your right hand as you delicately touch the healed-over scar. You think back on the last night you were in Seattle, knocking on Vi's door, your bags packed for Montauk.  

"I feel like I'm not going to see you again, Starshine. You don't have to do this!" she says tearily. 

You smile at your sister sadly, considering your next words, hopefully enough to placate her nerves.  "Don't worry, Vi. We'll grow old together. It's going to be you and me living in a big house... these two old biddies with all these cats. I bet we even die on the same day." 

"Come here," you pull Vi towards you, grabbing your Swiss army knife out of your pocket. You cut your palm diagonally, wincing.  

"My Blood," you whisper, grabbing ahold of her hand as you do the same to her palm.  

"Your Blood," you smile at her as you grasp your bloody hand with hers.  

"Our Blood." you both say, embracing your sister for the last time, the tears falling on your face, smiling sadly at your sister as you press a kiss on her forehead.  

"Be good, Vi Vi. I'll see you soon."

You gather your overnight bag and sling your backpack on as you stand to exit off of the link light railcar onto the platform. It's early evening on a balmy October day - Not quite cold enough for a scarf, but enough to warrant a coat - Ben's coat, the only item of clothing of his you allowed yourself to keep, its edges starting to show signs of wear. You shove your hands into its pockets, and fiddle for the Orca card to check out of the station.  

With muscle memory you exit out of the station to head out into the bus stop for the #3, heading towards Queen Anne. You adjust your overnight bag strap on your shoulders, brushing a stray hair behind your ears as you take in the cold fall night, the familiarity of your youth washing over you in nostalgia. As charming as New York City is in the fall, there's something about the charm of the Pacific Northwest - the slow swaying of the trees, the falling leaves, the crisp, clean air. The hustle and bustle of NYC was nowhere to be found - no disgruntled yelling or heckling, no sea of yellow cabs honking in the distance.  

Vi is already waiting as you walk up to the duplex from the bus stop, standing on the porch, leaning on the front door. She’s dressed in a silk nightgown and thin, long cardigan, the cherry tip of her cigarette in one hand, the other hugging her waist. She's different - the ten years of time and distance taking a toll on her once bright, delicate features. She's thinner now, more frail - you can see the hollowness of her cheeks, the sallow beneath her eyes. 

"Geoff isn't home," she greets as she fidgets with the cigarette, biting the bottom of her lip as she nervously glances at you - skittish, apprehensive. "It's Freaky Fridays at the bar - he won't be home until at least midnight."

"Vi -"

She crushes you in an embrace as she sobs, completely falling apart in your arms. Her tears soak into your coat and she's wailing, wailing, wailing - a bevy of "I missed you so much" and "thank god" repeated, like a mantra.  

You shimmy out of the embrace and grab both of her arms to inspect her - raising your hand to graze the purple bruise that had bloomed on her cheek. She flinches, her mouth flinching in pain as you gently palm over her face. She smiles sadly back at you, her hand covering your own on her face, closing her eyes as you wipe away her tears. You press your forehead onto hers, breathing her in.  

"He's been really crazy, you know? today he says he wants a jelly donut, and he says to the kid, 'Jelly donut, with cream' and the kid looks confused! and I said 'Geoff, Jelly is not a cream' - and the kid, he laughed and I laughed, and he punched me! he punched me real hard! Bastard!"

"Does he know where the aunts live?"

"No, but they're at the solstice celebration-"

"Pack a bag, Vi, we're leaving."

You stand guard by the door as Vi hurriedly shoves things in her bag, running throughout her side of the duplex as she seemingly grabs things at random.  "Have you been in it yet?" she asks as she shoves a box of granola into her weekender - "I haven't... no one's been in it, not since... and Geoff thinks we should rent it out, you know, make some money out of it, but, I told him we couldn't - it's not mine, it's yours -" she speaks a mile a minute - not unlike how you remember all those years ago - as she shoves what seems like 20 pairs of underwear, zipping up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

You hurriedly push her out of the door, fumbling with the keys as you lock it, guiding her down the steps - Damn these shoes! she exclaims - making your way down the street, towards the bus stop.  

"Oh!" Vi suddenly stops in her tracks. "Blood on the moon!" she whispers, pointing to the sky.

"I know" you reply.

She’s clutching her chest, pulling at the nightgown as she pats down her threadbare coat, pulling out the cheap polyester pocket lining, stopping in place as she looks back up the street.  "Where's my tiger's eye? it brings me luck, I left it, I need to get it back!"  she breaks out of your hold and breaks out into a sprint towards the house, pulling her shoes off, running up the pavement, not once caring if her feet are bare.  

"It's probably in the bag, Vi, come on!" you run after her, up the porch stairs. "Vi -" you say as you stumble back into the apartment, stopping in your tracks as you are suddenly gazing at a man - Geoff, you presume - struggling with Vi, pointing - is that a gun? - at you. Geoff - his commanding presence heightened by his striking, dark features. His tousled hair, as black as midnight, framed a face chiseled with sharp, defined angles, giving him an air of both ruggedness and refinement. Deep-set, intense eyes, the color of smoldering coals, held a hint of mystery, their gaze both penetrating and enigmatic. He smiles.

"Ah. Starshine! The prodigal sister finally makes an appearance!" he belts out as he motions the barrel of the gun towards the couch.  "Okay, Okay," you say meekly as you slowly make your way to it, your hands in the air as you refuse to break eye contact, your sister shaking uncontrollably in his grasp.

He wedges the gun in the waist of his pants - between fabric and skin. He's still clutching onto Vi - grabbing the bottle of tequila that's on the coffee table. He sloppily thrusts it towards you in a - would you like some? - demeanor as you turn your head away from him. He sits on the chair across from you, perching Vi on top of his lap, licking her neck as she squirms.  “Shhh. Let the adults talk, okay?” he whispers as he brings a finger to her lips. 

"Hey, Starshine, you know all about books, right? Have you ever read any books by Louis L'Amour?"  You shake your head, refusing to meet his eyes as he shakes his head in disappointment.

"Okay, well - Louis L'Amour is a foreigner and he loved all things cowboy. Just like me, Geoffy-boy. So Louis would write stories about rustlers. Rustlers who were really bad guys."

You glance at Vi's direction. She twitches - slightly, if you had blinked, you would have missed it, motioning to her bag next to you on the couch.  "The belladonna is in my bag" you hear Vi's voice clearly in your mind. You nod, looking at Geoff as he babbles on, lighting a cigarette and perching it on the corner of his lips. You slowly edge your pinky towards Vi's purse.

He flicks the lighter back on as he starts to wave it over his ring - a bulbous silver skull - "They would try to steal the cattle. But before they could sell them they would try to take away the brand of the owner with an acid, or by - He suddenly rubs the ring furiously on the chair cushion - "...scrubbing. Unfortunately, they could never get rid of it. So they would be caught and get hanged."

"What are you doing?" you nervously ask as he brings the flame of the lighter back onto the skull of his ring, waving it back and forth, heating it as he takes another drag of his cigarette. He grabs the meat of Vi's thighs.  "Come on! You can't hide the brand. It's just you and me."  he tells her as he attempts to brand her with the skull, Vi thrashing in his grasp as you take advantage of the distraction, clutching onto the glass vial of the belladonna. "Let her go!" you cry out, jumping onto your feet into a semblance of a fighting stance, not caring one bit about the ridiculousness of it.

He laughs at you as he raises his hands in mock surrender.  "Relax, Starshine, live a little! Have a drink with me!" he motions towards the tequila bottle on the table.  

"Shut up! Louis L'Amour by the way - is not a foreigner! He's from North Dakota, you asshole!" you mouthed angrily while you snatch the bottle, taking a sip while Vi suddenly grabs his face, crushing her mouth towards his. You quickly pour the entire vial of the belladonna down the tequila bottle, shaking it as you hand it back to Geoff. He takes a long drink, winking as he places it on the table. He looks at you with a tinge of satisfaction.  

Two hours later, Vi is beside herself as Geoff is taking a - rather long - piss. 

"It should have worked by now," she nervously paces the living room, biting her nails. "I don't think you gave him enough."

"I gave him plenty!" 

Just as you are about to throw the bottle of Belladonna at Vi in frustration, Geoff slithers back into the room, a sinister look on his face. He smirks at you as he approaches Vi.

"You know, girls. I'm feeling very into sisters right now."

He suddenly grabs Vi by the throat, throwing her on the ground as he straddles her.  "I LOVE YOU, VI! WHY DON'T YOU WANT TO BE MY WIFE?!"  You immediately launch on him, pounding your fists on his back "Get the fuck off of her!"

"Starshine! Starshine stop! he's out!" Vi says as she pushes him off.  

"OH MY GOD!" She shouts, scrambling onto her feet as she looks at him dead on the floor, his vacant eyes staring back at her, his skin sickly pale. "How much did you give him?" she looks at you frantically.

"I don't know, Vi, he was threatening to kill us, it's not like I had a measuring cup!" you retort as you kneel next to him, slapping his face, willing him to wake up. You grab onto his shoulders, shaking him with as much force as you can muster.  "Wake up, asshole!" you angrily mutter as you slap his face again.  

"What are we going to do?" Vi cries out in a panic.  "We can't go to the police, they're never going to believe us!"

"It was in self-defense!" you shoot her a questioning look.  "Wait. What do you mean that they wouldn't believe us?"  

"Well, I doubt the whole slowly-poisoning-your-lover defense would win over the Seattle PD" she snarks as she rolls her eyes, pinching her nose as she paces around the room. You eye her waringly.

"What are you thinking, Vi?"

"When Ben died, you asked the aunts to bring him back," she states, matter-of-factly.

"They wouldn't," you answer bitterly, kicking Geoff as you collapse onto the chair beside him.  "Get to the point, Vi."  

"They wouldn't, not couldn't" she replies simply.

You shake your head.  "No, the aunts were right. He would have come back dark and unnatural."

"Geoff's already dark and unnatural! I don't care what he comes back as, just as long as he comes back!"

"No, Vi, that is not an option. That isn't even a choice!" You head into the kitchen, filling up a glass of water and drinking it, shaking your head in disbelief.  This is not happening, you think.  

"We don't have a choice, Starshine! This is our ONLY choice!" Vi throws up her hands in frustration.  "Do you want to go to jail, or do you want to help me fix this? Because I'm sure Ben is rolling in his grave right now!"

"He was cremated, Vi."

"You owe me big time" you mutter to Vi as you help her carry Geoff out of the back seat of his car, having been forced to drive from Queen Anne to Tacoma to access Bainbridge Island from Narrows Bridge. 

"Watch his balls!" Vi exclaims, leading you into the kitchen as they half drag, half carry Geoff's stiffening body to the dining room table.  "Okay Geoff, I will get you out of this but after that, we are over!" she declares, slapping his face.

"What are you doing?" 

"Nothing!" she retorts, running past you as she grabs the Spellbook from the other room, placing it near Geoff's head. You push her aside, flipping through the weathered pages.  "Are you sure you want to do this? He's still fresh, we could still convince the police that it was in self-defense!"

Vi gives you a satisfied smirk as she nods. "Absolutely."

You take a deep breath.  "Okay. Lips pursed, emit wind over tongue in motion, teeth on edge." you purse your lips, executing the needed motion with practiced precision as Vi tries to mimic you.  "Good enough, good enough."  You cut open his shirt, "Touch bounded smudge of blue sage with braided wheat straw." 

"Okay, repeat after me. 'Black as night, erase death from our sight. White as light, Mighty Hectate make it right."  you nod to Vi.  "Black as night, erase death from our sight. White as light, Mighty Hectate make it right."  You hand Vi a needle, positioning yours to one of Geoff's eyes.  "insert needles through the eyes of the corpse."

Vi looks at you with disgust.  "Through his eye? Maybe we should wait for the aunts"  You roll your eyes.  "It's not like he's going to stay fresh forever! Stop being a baby and let's finish this!"

You chant the incantation repeatedly, angling the needle at Geoff's eyes as they suddenly focus on you. You drop the needle in bewilderment, your hand covering your mouth as Vi gasps in shock.

"Geoff?" she asks timidly, circling the table. He suddenly shoots up from where he lay, his hand reaching out to Vi's throat as he shrieks.  

"WHY WON'T YOU BE MY WIFE?" he wails unnaturally as he strangles her, pinning her to the wall as she claws at him. You grab the first heavy thing you can find around you - a cast iron skillet? and BAM! swing at Geoff, the impact so strong he drops like a sad sack of potatoes.  

You're breathing heavily as you drop the skillet, glancing over to Vi as she clutches her heaving chest.  

"Please god, if you get us out of this, I'll be good! I'll settle down and be normal for once! No more one-night stands!" Vi pleads to the sky as she helps you dig a shallow grave near the rose bushes.  

It's the middle of the night, and in typical Bainbridge Island fashion, the heavens decide to throw a torrential downpour into the mix. After killing Geoff - for the second time that night - the both of you decide to cut your losses and bury him in the aunt's backyard, all semblance of reason out the window. What's one less asshole walking on this earth? If you think about it, in the grand scheme of things, you actually did humanity a favor. Bye bye Geoff, don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out. 

"Normal? Really Vi? I had normal! For ten years, I had my quiet boring non-magical life! and it was fucking amazing!" you sharply retort as you carve out the earth, the heavy downpour soaking you to the bone.  "I worked really hard for that normal, thank you very much!"

One Geoff-sized shallow grave dug later, you both unceremoniously dump his twice-deceased body into it, spitting in it for good measure.  

"I hate to be the one to say this," you say to Vi as you start to shovel "but you need better taste in men."

She rolls her eyes at you, her wet hair sticking to her face as she pushes it back behind her ears.  

"Yeah, no kidding." she laughs, rolling her eyes.  

"Not a word to the Aunts," you stomp on the grave to flatten it out.  "Not one."

You wake up to Vi puttering around the room the next morning. You groan as your eyes register the sudden influx of light streaming out of the windows through the blinds, you yank a pillow and cover your head with it, groaning.  "It's too early, Vi."

"I need to open the store today," Vi is puttering around your old bedroom, walking into the closet as she shuffles through clothes.  "We have to 'maintain normalcy', right?"  she pulls out a dress, inspecting it, while looking at you hesitantly.  "... do you want to come with me? I bet you miss it, the aunts kept it the same..." she continues as she slips on the dress. She smiles.  "Come on. I can work the cafe and you can work the register... it'll be like old times. The store misses you too. Misses its rightful owner, you know. Mom left it to you, not to me." she pointedly adds, pleading her case.  

You sigh as you sit on the edge of the bed.  "... I don't know, Vi. The last time I was here..." You take a deep breath, a flash of Ben's smile cycling through your mind.  "It's been too long, and I don't know if I can... exist here, you know?" 

“…but you love the store,” Vi says as she holds up another dress, a blue long sundress with moons and suns printed on it - tossing it in your direction. “… and Ben knew you loved it too. I think that if there was anything you could do for him, especially in death, it would be to be happy, you know? Maria’s was your dream, and it still can be only if you just let yourself try.” She smiles as she picks up her tote bag, slinging it onto her shoulder as she kisses the top of your head. “Just one day, please? For me? For old time's sake?”

Vi gives you her best puppy-eyed look and pouts her lips.  

You groan and cover yourself with the covers.  "Fine. One day, and then I'm flying my ass back to New York!"

She smirks, covertly looking at your burrowed form.  "That's all I ask."

Maria's Curiosities and Books is still the same.  

The bookstore slash cafe, opened 30 years ago by your mother, remains pleasantly intact in the heart of Capitol Hill. You remember running through the racks and stacks of secondhand books, mostly about all things magical and occult, piled haphazardly throughout the store. You used to spend hours tucked away in the corner of it, the old leather loveseat tucked away amongst the sea of books and knickknacks and the random bits and bobs. You remember running your fingers through the cracks of the worn leather of the couch cushions, the wafting of the freshly ground coffee beans permeating throughout the nooks and crannies of the store, your mother's beautiful smile looking back at you from behind the register as you would tuck yourself in, deeper into the love seat, making yourself right at home.

Vi hands you your shop keys, giving you a small nod as she guides you to the entrance, the door already decorated for Halloween.  

"The aunts did it before they left," Vi says, grabbing her phone out of her tote bag - I want to commemorate Starshine's big return, ten years in the making! - her camera app at the ready as you push the store key into the lock.  

You slowly turn the key in the lock, gingerly swinging the door open as you flick on the lights like you have hundreds of times before. You gasp at the familiarity of it all - as you realize that Vi was right - they haven't changed a thing, not one thing at all.  

Everything is still how you left it, ten years later. 

You make your way to the register, the vintage incorruptible cash register you found - like happenstance! - at the Goodwill, one day - still on the weathered countertops but with the addition of an iPad beside it, bringing this store up with the times - Vi's idea, surely.  

Vi holds out your mother's hat - a pointed velvet blue hat with silver stars running along throughout - the Storybook lady's hat - out to you.  "I figure since Omera isn't here... if you would do the honors today." You slowly place the hat atop your head as Vi grins.  "Right back where it belongs," she says with a satisfied look.  

You blink away the tears.  "Thank you, Vi, for watching over the store for so long," you pull her into a hug, the feeling of being home finally coursing through your veins, the gentle warmth spreading through the coldness of your bones.  "... I mean it."

"You promised me, you know," she says through her tears.  "...that you would come back."

You remember when you finally took rightful ownership of the store after you graduated from the University of Washington, waking up at the buttcrack of dawn, shuffling behind the register with bright-eyed wonder as you would look at the picture frame - the one with the photo of your mother, Fennic, and Omera clutching each other, smiling brightly as your mother held up the keys in triumph.  

This was her dream.  

... and then it became yours.  

“Daddy, can we go see the storybook wady this weekend?”

Din looks at his five-year-old son as he sits on the dining room table, pushing around the cereal in his bowl. His hair is in disarray from sleep, still in his Star Wars pajamas as he watches cartoons from his iPad.  

“If you can be good with Aunt Peli today, maybe we can go see the storybook lady tomorrow, adika,” he replies, mussing his son's hair as he sits across from him, blowing on his coffee. He gives his son a knowing look.  "... that means no jumping into her pond grabbing frogs, okay? you almost gave her a heart attack the last time, baby."

Grogu smiles at that, his front tooth missing as he happily scoops out his cereal.  

Din doesn’t know why he started to frequent Maria’s Curiosities and Books all those years ago. He knew of its owner - hell, you were all his partner would talk about, if he wasn't talking about work. He knew that you had inherited it from your mother, taking it over from your aunts the moment you graduated from college. He also knew that that's where the both of you had met - you and Ben, that is, a chance meeting that seemed so serendipitous, it must have been written in the stars. A perfect "meet cute", Ben would say dreamily, a fond smile creeping on his lips as he recalled that day to him. You managed to bewitch him, body and soul, he claims, from the moment you wiped the spilled coffee you accidentally poured on him, your firey eyes locking on to his as you profusely apologized for your clumsiness. Ben knew that he was a goner.  

Naturally, Din was curious - no, he was intrigued - by the bewitching woman who managed to render his normally stoic partner into complete devotion. The notion of love, and happiness, and all the bells and whistles that came with it - was such a foreign concept to him. It was a distraction, a distraction he would never think he would ever allow himself - no, he was so against the thought of bringing someone - someone innocent, someone trusting, and devoted - into the fold of the chaotic nature of his life, knowing that any moment, any day, any second would be his last. It came with the territory, this profession. He knew what he signed up for the moment he stepped into the police academy that first day. The academy warns you about that shit, that your days are counted the moment you accept that badge. He was ready for it, hell, it's all he's ever wanted - the badge, the honor, the brotherhood. He lived and breathed the creed of justice - ever since his parents were taken from him - all those years ago, back in his home in New Mexico, in front of his eight-year-old eyes, in cold blood. 

... and then it happened. 

It was an anonymous tip, sent to his work phone in the middle of the night.

Bleary-eyed, he swiped to the unread message, sent 1:13 am, one sentence. An address, "Gideon spotted" accompanied by it. He shot out of bed immediately, eyes wide, his bare chest heaving, his grey sweatpants slung low on his hips suddenly hot and restricting.  

He would be lying if he said that Gideon wasn't the reason that he pushed for the transfer to Seattle PD in the first place - hell, he's been on his trail since he got his promotion to detective a year ago back in New Mexico. He had hunted him - his parent's killer - his mortal enemy number one - with the determination of a bounty hunter for as long as he can remember. No one would make the connection - He was thrust into the foster care system back then, assigned to a spitfire of a woman - Peli - who gave him his name - Din Djarin - the moment she decided that she wanted to adopt him. He's been lying in wait, in anticipation - for a long time. This was his life's mission, the promise that he made to himself all those years ago, that it would be his hands that dealt the final blow. It would be his hands that Gideon's blood would stain, and he would enjoy every fucking moment of it. 

He considered the gift that had been handed to him at that moment. Pacing through his bedroom, he weighed out his options. This was his case, his one loose end that he had to tie up. He had the skill, the strength, and the willpower to see it though. He didn't necessarily have to bring anyone else into the fold of it - he didn't have to involve his unsuspecting partner - Ben - with his penchant for following the rules and meticulous planning, who didn't just burst through the door, guns a-blazing - his partner who had everything to lose. Din didn't have that, didn't understand the feeling of having people being left behind on his behalf. Ben understood the need for justice, he just wasn't aware of the emotional weight this person - this scum of the fucking earth - had on him. He wouldn't understand the obsession that he had with Gideon. Ben had questioned it - once, why finding Gideon was so important to him.  He's a bad man, who has done many bad things to innocent people - he’d replied cryptically.  Why wouldn't we pull out all of our resources to see this though?

Against his better judgment, after hours of deliberation pacing through his apartment in the cold early morning, he makes his choice.

Meet me here, he types, attaching the address to Gideon's last known location.  We got him.  

This is a bad idea, he thinks to himself as he stands outside the bookstore. 

He sighs, groaning in frustration as he makes his way inside Maria's Curiosity and Books a few weeks later after that pivotal day, the tinkle of the bell announcing his presence to its occupants.

He had tried to get into contact with you, sending hundreds of text messages, voicemails, and after-work visits to your apartment that you shared with Ben - all of his feeble attempts - all unanswered.  

He had hoped, that even though he was the harbinger of bad news, you would show up at the station that night. He understood why you didn't - instead being met with a steely woman - your Aunt - Fennic, was it? - who came on your behalf. She identified the body with an uncompromising gaze, nodding once as she immediately walked away, a fragment of emotion breaking through her impassive face as she pushed past him, out the door, as soon as she had walked in. He felt the levity of the pain that this woman carried, the sorrow she tried so hard to contain - that he couldn't even fathom the weight of the pain that you must have been experiencing, if not hearing your broken sobs through the phone wasn't enough. If heartbreak had a sound, he reckons, it would be the sheer devastation that he heard from your cries that night, becoming the soundtrack to his regret and nightmares - to follow him for years to come... and it was all his fault. All of it.

He approaches the woman behind the counter, her smile bright as she reads a letter - do people still write those? - a cup of coffee on the counter, stirring it with a spoon. At least he thought she was because he swears he sees the spoon stirring on its own - am I hallucinating? He thinks to himself. Spoons don’t do that.  

As if the woman senses his presence, she quickly grabs the spoon, stirring it once more before placing it on the saucer beneath the coffee cup. She places the letter she was reading next to it, cracking a smile. 

“How can I help you today, sir?”

He scratches the back of his neck nervously. “I don’t mean to be forward, but are you the owner?” The woman suddenly looks surprised, covering the letter with her hand. 

“Uh… I’m not. That would be my sister, and… she doesn’t live here anymore. Not for the last few weeks, at least” she says sadly.  “May I ask why you’re looking for her?” 

“An old friend told me about her and this store. I’m a… big fan of secondhand books and I heard that this is the best place for it” he lies. 

“Well, it certainly is” She smiles as she holds out her hand. “I’m Violet, Vi for short. It’s funny that you bring Starshine up, she just sent me a letter, all the way from Montauk!” She motions to the letter. 

Montauk? New York? Is that where you ran off to?  "I didn't realize that people still corresponded that way."  He motions to the letter.

"Ah, well, Starshine is a writer and a bit of a romantic." she retorts, "I don't mind it one bit, at least she reaches out, right?"

“Vi!” A woman’s voice yells from behind the cafe area, “Can I bother you a bit?” 

She flashes you a contrite smile. “Sorry about that, duty calls. I’ll be just a minute.” She says apologetically as she hurriedly makes her way to the other side of the counter. She appears a moment later, a take-out cup of coffee in her hands.  "Omera was testing out a new recipe that Starshine was conceptualizing a bit before she left. She figured that a new face should test our wares out" she says, handing him the cup.  "I hope you like cinnamon chai, it's Starshine's favorite."

“Thank you” he gingerly takes the cup, taking a sip. “Wow, it’s good. Really good. Starshine thought this up?” Vi nods, her eyes quirking as if she notices something peculiar.  

He takes another sip. Her eyes follow the motion of his hand, eyeing it waringly. 

“Huh.” She says. “Is that…” she motions to his hand, “a bullseye tattoo?” 

He looks down at his right hand, at the junction of space between his thumb and his pointer finger, frowning. “Oh, yeah. I used to doodle this on my hand at school randomly, I thought I would immortalize it, I guess,”  he replies sheepishly. 

"How interesting," Vi responds cryptically.  "How very interesting."

"Perhaps you felt compelled to draw it," another voice cuts in, an older woman with ethereal features approaches Vi from behind the counter. She nods to the cup. “I’m Omera. Enjoying the chai?”

“Oh, yes. I love cinnamon. Reminds me of the churros my mother used to make back home.” 

Vi chuckles.  “It’s funny, Ben - her husband - was allergic to it, so Starshine could only drink them here.” Din coughs at that.  

"Would you like to see her?" The older woman asks. "Starshine?"  She hands him a framed photo of you, at your college graduation. “That’s her Aunt Fennic, my sister” she points to the poised-looking woman beside you. The woman from the precinct.  "... and Vi and I. It’s my favorite photo of all of us." She says fondly.

“She’s beautiful,” Din finds himself saying aloud before he can stop himself. Cut the shit, Djarin, her husband just died - in your arms - for fucks sake. He internally grimaces at the thought, especially in the company of your family.  

He clears his throat.  “So Montauk. New York. That’s where she’s been? seems far from home, don't you think?”

Vi looks at him suspiciously.  "What are you, a cop?" she says jokingly, folding up your letter and placing it neatly atop a pile of books. He notices now that there are many photos of you - with Vi, with your parents, with the Aunts, with... Ben. There's a wedding photo, your face in the crook of his neck, as Ben beams into the camera. There's another one, of you kissing Ben - the sudden stab of jealousy notwithstanding - an errant thought in the back of his mind screaming mine, mine, mine - on his cheek. All of these photos, a chronolized timeline of your life, framed in mismatched picture frames, lining the countertops of the bookstore - your bookstore. He swallows, fiddling with the collar of his button-down.    

Vi motions to the wedding photo.  “Her husband - he grew up in New York. He was a detective. He... died in the line of duty. A setup, gone wrong. They managed to get the guy, but Ben was caught in the crossfire. After what had happened - she... went up there to settle his affairs."

Din tries hard to portray his ignorance.  “… yeah, I read about it, in the paper. I’m sorry for your loss.” 

Vi nods, wrapping her arms around her small frame as she looks at Omera.  "She took it pretty hard. She - she doesn't let many people in, and Ben..." she stops as she considers how to approach her thoughts.  "... it devastated her. She wasn't the same after that."

He nods solemnly. Blinks furiously to mask away the tears.  "So, she uprooted herself there? What about the bookstore?"

Omera gives him a sympathetic look. "We'll carry on until she's ready to come home. That's all we can hope for, right?"  She appraises you as if deciding something.  "What's your name?"

Din considers this.  "Uh, Mando. Call me Mando," he says as he holds his hand out to Omera. She shakes it, her eyes with a hint of questioning, like she can't quite believe him.  

"Hey! Vi! Omera! Can I get some help here?! Sometime within this century?!" a voice calls out from the back, alerting the two women to look towards the back of the store. Vi gives him one last look as they leave him be.  "Excuse us, Fennic is on the warpath this morning. It was nice to meet you, Mando."

As they retreated towards the rear of the store, his gaze fell upon your abandoned letter resting on the countertop. With a quickening pulse, he scanned the area, ensuring that no prying eyes were upon him. Stealthily, he slipped the letter into the recesses of his coat, hastening his exit from the store.

It's not until he's in the safety of his car that he unearths the folded piece of paper in the confines of his coat pocket, the paper radiating warmth as he finds himself compelled to smell it, the paper sweet and spicy and musky all at the same time. Cinnamon. He imagines that it smells exactly like how you would smell, imagines the way your hand held the pen as you wrote exactly what your heart was feeling. He pushes the nagging guilt of intruding on your privacy - He just... needs... something, anything to placate his interest. To see what Ben saw, to understand his partner's last words that he said to him, begging, in desperation, in resignation.  "Promise me you'll take care of her, please, promise me. Tell her that I love her and that I'm sorry... that we couldn't go back."  Ben gurgles, his body convulsing in pain as Din pressed down on the gunshot wound, frantically calling for backup. "Tell her yourself," he tells his partner for the last time.  "Just hold on, you're going to tell her yourself."

He was cold, dead in his arms by the time emergency services reached them at the pier.  

"I promise."  He whispers, staring out into the void.

He turns his car on, the reverberating hum of his car coursing through his body. Joni Mitchell's 'A Case of You' starts to play as he gently holds the letter - your letter - in his hands.  

Just before our love got lost you said

"I am as constant as a northern star"

And I said, "Constantly in the darkness

Where's that at?

If you want me I'll be in the bar"

He takes a deep breath.  

He gently unfolds the letter and begins to read.  

Dearest Violet -

Sometimes I feel like there's a hole inside of me, an emptiness that at times seems to burn. I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean. The moon tonight, there's a circle around it. Sign of trouble not far behind. I have this dream of being whole, of not wanting to sleep each night, wanting. But still, sometimes, when the wind is warm or the crickets sing... I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I had my happiness. I don't want to believe it but, there is no man, Vi. Only that moon. 

I miss you, 

Starshine

He doesn't register the tears that are flowing out of him until the first teardrop falls onto the paper, the wet ink streaking down the page upon impact.

Din and Grogu make their way down 10th Avenue, his adopted son humming happily along as they make their way to Maria's Curiosities and Books - as promised for Grogu's good behavior - Oh, he was just an angel! not one frog didn't even go to the pond! - Peli exclaims - the Storybook Lady's - Omera, he found out - wooden sign out near the entrance.

It feels different, today. There's something in the air, there's a pep to his step as he walks down the street, Grogu in hand.  

It started when he woke up in the morning. He normally groans at the weight and reality of a new day, the looming reminder of his age and his knees and his back screaming out to him in silent agony. Din normally likes to relish in the calm of the coldness of fall, the little bit of peace before Grogu makes his presence known by jumping onto his bed, willing for his father to wake up already - we have to go see the Storybook Wady! - his lisp not quite pronouncing the words as he stifles a laugh.  

Din takes his time to get ready in the morning today as if compelled by an unknown force - a feeling in his bones - that shaving his usual unruly scruff is going to be so, so, worth it. He silently whistles along to Joni Mitchell's 'A Case of You' softly playing throughout through the Bluetooth of his speakers - his favorite song. He's still whistling along as he walks into his closet, freshly shaven and showered, his long wet curls slicked back into submission, as he takes an extra minute to actually be aware of what he's going to wear today.  

I feel like such a schoolboy, caring like this, he chuckles as he throws on a deep grey cable-knit sweater, settling on a pair of dark jeans that don't have any holes in the knees.  

I remember that time you told me

You said, "Love is touching souls"

Surely you touched mine

'Cause part of you pours out of me

In these lines from time to time...

He's still humming along to the song as he drives down 10th Avenue, Grogu beaming with untamable energy, bouncing in his car seat in anticipation of the day. Does he feel it too? the magic that's in the air this morning? he thinks to himself as he gently tells his son to settle down.  

It must be happenstance, he thinks, as he manages to find a parking stall along the normally busy street - already packed with locals and tourists alike - in a stall where he doesn't have to pay for metered parking or grimace at the prospect of having to carry his son - his too-big baby boy - for blocks to Maria's.

For once, everything seems to be going right. It must be my lucky day, he smiles to himself as he ushers Grogu to the entrance of the store. 

He's still whistling to Joni Mitchell as he opens the door - Grogu already letting go of his father's grasp - shrieking as he makes his way inside, running towards the other children sitting in the middle of the room, near the paper mache castle near the back, the storybook lady hat resting on its stool.  

"Hey, Vi -" he begins, his voice getting caught in his throat all of a sudden because there you were, behind the counter, dressed in a blue sundress and an oatmeal oversized chunky cardigan, your eyes bright and your lips - god, your lips - forming into a smile, smiling at him. It's as if time and space and the universe ceased to exist... 

"Starshine." He breathes, his feet frozen in place. 

Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine

You taste so bitter and so sweet

Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling

Still I'd be on my feet

I would still be on my feet

I met a woman

She had a mouth like yours

She knew your life

She knew your devils and your deeds

And she said, "Go to him, stay with him if you can

But be prepared to bleed"

Oh, but you are in my blood

You're my holy wine

You're so bitter

Bitter and so sweet

Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling

Still I'd be on my feet

I would still be on my feet

Taglist: @strawberri-blonde

[merlincinema]

Author/s: chaosgenes Title: The Mistaken Bride and the Dragon Rating: Teen Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur Character/s: Arthur, Merlin, Morgana Warnings: thoughts of murder Word Count: 2,130 Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53146798

Summary: The last dragon has been slain and the seaside village of Camelot will no longer have to sacrifice virgin maidens to keep appeasing the beast from terrorising their land. Twenty-one years later, Arthur, eager to save his sister from an arranged marriage, secretly takes her place in a faux-sacrificial ritual in honour of the groom-to-be's father. But the ceremony unknowingly summons a creature long thought to be dead and Arthur is stolen away to a fate presumably worse than matrimony.

Author's Notes: Based on the film I Am Dragon. Thank you to my beta, Sage_Owl, and thank you mods for hosting the fest! This was my first time and I had originally planned to do a Merthur version of the whole movie but decided against it due to limited time and plotting issues. So here's a snippet, sort of. Enjoy!

Preview: Wind blew as dark waves lapped harshly on a moonlit, slate shore. Upon it, partially submerged by water, was the pale body of a shirtless man. He was young, unconscious, his handsome face turned up to the starry sky. Near his head stood another young man, blond, bare feet, and dressed in tatters, trembling.

Clutched in his hands was a heavy stone—and he held it high above the sleeping man’s body.

[topgunreacts]

I do all kinds of sexual dynamics for IceMav because I like variety and it keeps me young. The omegaverse fic is a story of two bottoms taking turns being the top. And I think that’s beautiful.

It exists, and one day when the beta read is over I will post it. Soulmates should be arriving soon. And then you will read about Maverick impulsively marrying a 90-year-old man thinking there’s no way the old man will still be around by the time he meets his soulmate. Get this: that does not happen. Also, he does not have a fugly dog in this one, so not part of the MFUDEU.

For no reason, here is a first draft sneak peek of the start of the IceMav soulmates AU: The Heart is an Empty Room. If you see mistakes then no you didn’t.

It was a lovely mid-June evening in sunny San Diego. A light breeze danced through the trees in the backyard, and the temperature was so perfect there wasn’t a running air conditioner in sight. Flowers in full bloom scattered their heady perfume into the air. All the birds had gone to roost in the canopies and shrubs, chattering at one another over the sound of distant waves crashing into the sand. In the sky, a sliver of a moon hung like a shard of broken glass over the land.

Maverick Mitchell was standing in the expansive kitchen of a rented seaside villa, counting medication. Most of the other TOPGUN students were at the bars, or someone’s house, drinking. Tonight was every student’s last free evening before an intense six weeks of training. Consequently, the average Lieutenant chose drinks and revelry to celebrate his impending aviation glory. Even Goose, the consummate father and steady husband, was somewhere out there throwing back shots until last call. At Miramar, Goose didn’t have to worry about babysitters and not waking the wife. He’d tried to drag Maverick along with him. But Maverick had refused. So there Maverick stood before a quartzite countertop—not a tumbler or shot glass in sight—sorting colored capsules and pills into a two-tiered organizer. The only bottles he planned on opening tonight came from the pharmacy, and contained various forms of prescribed liquids that Maverick knew better than to sample.

Generally speaking, Maverick filled the organizer on Sunday mornings. It was a quiet time on a quiet day, and thus offered the fewest distractions. But this morning he’d woken up late and had to prioritize his errands, and so here he was now, counting on a Sunday evening instead of meeting his peers and future competitors. He’d wanted to go. But there were many things in the world more important than bar hopping. Things such as this medication, and ensuring its ingestion.

It didn’t matter. There would be other chances to let his hair down. Other parties, other chances to mingle. Unlike Maverick, Goose hadn’t flown in until yesterday, and he’d already met a few other aviators who told him that the night after the first session was when the real parties began. Allegedly, nobody got too wild. They were there to learn, after all. So long as everyone got enough sleep to tell the difference between the left and right rudder pedals, no harm no foul. And apparently, things quieted down around week two.

All of this, Maverick knew secondhand. Yes, he’d been in San Diego for an entire month before the other students started showing up, but there’d been endless chores to do and errands to run—thus, no time to gossip or gather intel. Not that Maverick had anyone to blame for that business but himself. Some of the things he’d done—not just that weekend, but all the days since his arrival—fell under the purview of Elise: the cook and housekeeper that had come with the rental property. Maverick did not need to buy the groceries, take the dogs in for their vaccines, vacuum, or wash the linens. But he’d done all four of those chores and more. Chore after chore, errand after errand, some of them unnecessary and others nonsensical—anything, anything, to distract himself from the numbers on his wrist ticking down like a timer on a pipe bomb. If making a second trip to the library in one day helped stifle the sinking feeling in his stomach, then Maverick would do it. If mowing a lawn that didn’t need to be mowed abetted the stress so white-hot it altered his senses and made his back ache, then it was worth it.

Goose had told him to stop looking at his soulmark—a curiously dour order from a typically upbeat man. Back when they first met, Goose had told Maverick about the day he met his own soulmate Carole. It was the stuff of rom coms: they’d each watched the time tick down on their wrists while keeping an eye on the wrong person—Carole, a handsome woman at the bar, and Goose, a fresh young thing playing darts. When they finally made contact, they hadn’t meant to at all. The dart player sneezed, prompting Goose to take a step backward, which sent him straight into Carole, who’d been ready to flee the room after the woman at the bar coolly dismissed her.

Ass over teakettle they went, two humans transforming into a single pile of flustered limbs on the floor. The sustained contact when they helped one another up was enough to seal the bond. By the time they made eye contact, they already knew one another’s hearts. Sparks flew, Goose said. And that ironclad soulbond marking them as a pair settled down between them like an old dog: comfortably, and with a heaving sigh—as though all of creation had been watching the whole time, saying: finally.

Then it was Maverick’s turn to tell the story of his mark. His wasn’t half as whimsical. He’d been one of those desperately troubled kids growing up: a tragic orphan bouncing from foster family to foster family, whose soulmark kept him company when it felt like the whole world was against him. On bad days, Maverick would find a closet or a cupboard somewhere and crawl inside. There, he would tilt his wrist to catch the light and watch the numbers go down. In five thousand days, Maverick would Meet his soulmate. In four thousand days, everything would be just fine. In three thousand days, Maverick would know unconditional love.

Those temporal thoughts were like life jackets keeping him afloat for the longest time. Even after he enlisted, Maverick found himself touching that mark like a lucky stone, willing the future to get here faster. But then he went to France on shore leave, and everything changed. When Goose, fresh from telling his beautiful love story, found out what happened that rainy night in Paris, his mouth dropped open in shock. Once the horror wore off a few days later, Goose wanted to know a few more details, and Maverick provided them. Each new piece of information only served to astound Goose even further.

But he’d stayed by Maverick’s side, troubled history and all. He’d defended Maverick, uplifted him, and given him sound advice. Years later—two months before the kitchen where Maverick counted pills—Goose was sitting next to Maverick on the couch in his Key West sitting room, watching his best friend count the hours down to TOPGUN. Then, Maverick had been staring at his wrist not in joyful anticipation but abject horror, and Goose gave him another bit of sound advice: “Mav. Stop looking at it.”

Not that it would help. The time on Maverick’s wrist did not stop the way he hoped it would. His sorrow was in vain. The numbers kept ticking down and down. In—Maverick lowered a pill bottle and checked his wrist—twenty hours, fourteen minutes, and eleven seconds, Maverick would Meet his soulmate. But here was the thing: he didn’t want to. Once, he’d placed his future love on a pedestal. And now, that person was a nuisance. An unwelcome visitor. Maverick hadn’t wanted things to be this way. But they were. Running was not an option. No one could escape the Meeting.

[robin-the-enby]

Téir abhaile 'riú

Pairing: Bofur x f!reader

Summary: After Smaug took over The Lonely Mountain, Bofur and his relatives travelled far to find a new home. Although knowing it would never be the same as the place where he grew up, meeting who the dwarf could only describe as the love of his life could make things more bearable.

Warnings: slight mention of alcohol, no beta we die like men, overbearing sibling

A/N: I don't even know how, but suddenly I am very much in The Hobbit fandom again. And while listening to this playlist, I came up with this cute idea! I hope you'll like it!

It has been a few years since Smaug took over Erebor, a wound still fresh in the hearts of many dwarven families. But dwarves were resilient folk and so when a portion of them came across The Blue Mountains, they quickly set to build a settlement there, knowing that their ancestors used to live in these mountains as well.

And while nothing could ever compare to Erebor, the dwarven settlers were happy with what they've build for themselves. The Blue Mountains were a great oppoturnity to start anew. With everything needed for all kinds of businesses to prosper in near vicinity, they quickly adapted to their new home, the memory of the great kingdom becoming a fond, but somewhat painful echo in their hearts.

It was truly a place of abundance. With the mountains themselves towering over their roofs, they were surrounded by thick and calm woods that seemed ancient. And if one wanted to, they could simply get all the way down to the seaside.

It also helped that they weren't the only ones who found their home in the embrace of the mountain range. There were many elven habitants in the woods and even human settlers scattered all around, making trading goods easy and accessible.

But it is true that the dwarves usually stuck by each other, venturing into other settlements only for business. The tragedy that struck them still hung around them like a thick fog and they didn't particularly enjoy all the whispers around them when they did make an appearance somewhere.

Bofur wasn't any different than his kin in this sense. While the dwarf liked to remain optimistic, being constantly reminded of what they had gone through everywhere they went was...unpleasant. Luckilly, as time went on, the commotion slowly faded and the dwarves blended into the rest of the habitants of The Blue Mountains.

Once a year, a big festival was held near the seaside, in the biggest human town in the area. Granted, it wasn't nowhere near the cities elves, dwarves, even some humans were used to, but nobody really minded, since The spring festival meant not only good music and fun all day and night, but also a big fair and since all races came and celebrated together on this rare occassion, it was a good oppoturnity to gain clientele.

The spring festival was an event the people in the port town held as a celebration of their sailors returning safely home from their travels during the winter. What started as a local event quickly grew into something much bigger though. Everyone wanted to meet the local heroes, hear their stories and most importantly, have fun.

And that's why Bofur and his brother were helping their families and neighbours pack and load all the things they wanted to sell at the fair onto carts, prepare the ponies and clean up for the festival. It was one of the busiest mornings in a very long time. There was so much noise all around, one might think they were going crazy. It would also take a good few hours before they descended to the port town, so everything needed to be perfectly ready.

Bofur was excited. He worked very hard throughout the winter to make the best toys he could and he couldn't wait to show them off to others. Seeing the eyes on children's faces light up, as their mouths hung open and they begged their parents to buy them at least one small figurine was a priceless experience. After getting everything onto the cart, he started helping Bombur with ingredients and equipment for his food stand. Bombur also worked hard, preparing homemade sausages and cheese, as well as picking the best vegetables and other foods. But Bombur was much more excited he will be able to buy some good quality fish to change up the daily menu for his family.

The two brothers chatted happily about this and that as everyone got ready for the journey. Bombur was excitedly ranting about how many ways he will be able to prepare the fish for his family after such a long time. Bofur chuckled and reminded him that if he serves nothing but fish for two weeks in a row like last year, Bifur might just smash a plate on his head.

The rest of the way to the town went in a similar lighthearted spirit. The weather was nice, the sun was shining, the air was fresh, and for the start of spring, it was pretty warm. it was magical, watching the new leaves growing on the old trees, as if they came back to life after months of short, cold days and long, even colder nights. Finally, they reached the end of the forest. In front of them were just fields, full of blooming flowers and some early bees here and there. They were gently swaying in the light breeze and were surrounded by the ocassional butterflies that woke up early in the year.

In front of their cart, Bofur could see a few others in the distance. He couldn't make out who exactly it was, maybe other dwarves from their town or perhaps some elves or humans. The silver shine of the sea water on the horizon made him smile. They were getting pretty close! And when he squinted, he could make out faint smoke coming from the port town, which wasn't yet visible.

"Come on, we need to hurry!"

Disturbed from his musings, Bofur looked around for the sing songy voice that called out. Realising it came from somewhere behind him, he was beginning to turn around, when a flurry of hair and clothes whizzed past their cart, jumping in the already tall grass right next to the road.

The person stopped a short distance from Bofur and looked back at whoever she was shouting at. Smoothing out her clothes, the girl, as Bofur saw, looked back at where the town laid ahead and said "I can see the smoke! I can't wait to dance around the big bonfire!" she giggled and looked back, shouting again "Hurry up!" before laughing and running along.

Bofur chuckled at the girl's enthusiasm. He almost wanted to turn back to face the road, when two very out of breath young ladies caught up to him and his brother. They panted heavily as they slowed to a walking pace. When they caught their breath, Bofur said "Your friend seems very excited."

The two women chuckled shakily. "Oh yes, but that's (Y/N). She loves The spring festival. She's a carefree soul, one could say." the taller one shrugged. "You can say that again. She's a good lass, but she's a handful. Always wondering somewhere, I swear she's trying to get herself into trouble. I'm just waiting for our parents to lose their minds one day." the shorter one, presumably (Y/N)'s sister, rolled her eyes, but her tone was playful. "Well, I should probably catch up to her, otherwise she'll just climb onto one of the boats and sail away on her own." the girl sighed and jogged off again, leaving Bofur with the two's friend alone.

"I assume you're travelling to the Spring festival as well?" she asked the dwarf sweetly. "Aye," he confirmed "I'll have a stand with toys for children and my brother here will have his food stand." he nodded towards Bombur, who silently nodded, not really having been interested in what was happening, although he listened. "Toys? Oh that's lovely! I might just stop by and get something for my little Dudon." she smiled softly. "That's an interesting name! Is he your little brother?" Bofur asked. "No, he's my son." the girl laughed "He will be three years old soon." "You're kidding!" Bofur's eyes widened "Wouldn't have guessed you already had a family." "I've been married for a few years now. My family is the biggest blessing I could have ever had." the girl sighed, before looking up at him "Where will your stand be located? I don't want to make a fool of myself looking for you." Bofur laughed "Near the center of the town square. So that my brother gets as many clients as possible."

The girl giggled and waved him goodbye, saying she should catch up to her friends before she'll get lost and ran off.

*****

The whole town was bustling with life. Music and laughter came from every direction, all kinds of people were on the streets and in the shops and pubs lining them.

Bofur was very busy. His toys were selling like hot cakes. The only thing he managed to do between serving customers and rearranging and refilling the range of toys he prepared was to glance at Bombur's stand from time to time. He seemed to be doing very well. All the people were leaving his stand amazed, often with their mouths dirty from his delicious food.

Hours were passing by in what felt like lightning speed, the only indication being the sun moving along the sky. As the day slowly came to an end, the streets slowly lit up and more and more merchants packed up their stands, their products sold, ready to just enjoy themselves and try not spend all they've earned that day.

It seemed no one would buy any toys anymore, people whizzing past in a hazy flurry, leaving only laughter behind, instead of curiously looking around. Just as he started packing up, a very out of breath young woman stopped before his stand. He realised it was the same woman of the three they met on the way to the festival.

"Running to see me eh?" he smirked playfully. He was rewarded with a playfully offended expression "Excuse me sir, I am married." the woman scolded Bofur before taking a look around his stand "My, my, the folks really plundered this place." she then looked at the dwarf, who was holding a wooden crate, ready to put the rest of the toys in "Oh I'm so sorry, I didn't realise you were packing up already! Is it alright if I buy one toy, I swear I'll be quick!" the woman fretted and Bofur laughed "It's alright, I can wait a bit longer. Take whatever you think your boy would like."

As the young mother's eyes scanned over Bofur's products she apologized again for coming so late, explaining it with "We lost (Y/N) again. Her sister is running all around to find her. Buying a toy completely slipped my mind, but I was looking around here so I thought I'd quickly stop by." she chuckled at the end and Bofur looked at her with curiosity "Aren't you worried about your friend?" "No." the woman laughed "Her sister is. (Y/N) is a grown woman, who can make her own choices. She's adventurous, sure, but she doesn't need to be coddled, no wonder she's hiding somewhere. I would be doing the same if I was her." The woman explained as she continued looking around the toys. At last, she picked a wooden fox and paid Bofur the price, leaving a small tip, for "being so kind". Bofur thanked the woman, bid her goodbye and wished luck with finding their friend.

Bofur packed the rest of his stuff and met with Bombur, who also finished putting away his products. They both decided to stay in town and enjoy the atmosphere. After all, they both worked hard the whole day.

Finding a place to have some shouldn't have been as hard as it was. Every inn they came across seemed packed to the brim, the rowdy patrons could be heard from outside. Finally, after wandering for what seemed like hours, they came across a small establishment in a tucked away alleyway. Laughter and music could be heard from the inside, but when the brothers peered through the windows, they saw that there were many seats to be taken. Walking inside, they discovered a small, cozy looking tavern. A few tables lined the walls, only some of them occupied. Right across the entrance was a bar with a few stools, probably for regulars. The dim lighting made the atmosphere more intimate.

The dwarves sat down at a vacant table and started a pleasant conversation about today. Although, Bofur mostly listened to his brother ramble excitedly about all the products he was able to trade or buy, and all the recipies that were already flooding his mind. Their one sided conversation was interrupted, however, when two jugs of ale were placed in front of them. Both brothers looked up at the same time to the one who brought them the drinks. They saw an older, small, stout woman smiling warmly at them. "Here you go gentlemen! Enjoy!" she said sweetly. "But we didn't order anything yet?" Bofur asked with confusion. "It's a gift from one of the patrons" the woman expained, her smile mysterious. Both brothers discreetly scanned their surroundings, but everybody minded their own business. "Well, we'd like to meet the person who sent this." Bombur exclaimed. He was a little suspicious, the chance of the woman pretending those drinks were a gift, only to charge them for them in the end was not small. On the other hand, if they really were a gift, they would like to thank the person face to face.

The woman smiled and thought for a second, before shrugging "I'll ask her." and then made her way back to the bar. Bofur and Bombur looked at each other. "So a lass, eh?" Bombur muttered. "You think she's pretty?" Bofur thought out loud. "As if that'd matter to me. I am happily taken if you forgot!" Bombur huffed and took out his pipe, stuffing it carefully with herbs. "You on the other hand..." he gave his brother a side eye, a small, teasing smile stretching on his face as he put the pipe to his mouth. Bofur rolled his eyes and was prepared to retaliate, before they were interrupted again.

"Good evening!" a voice chirped. Looking up, Bofur recognized the person standing at their table as (Y/N), the infamous troublemaker. "Didn't think we'd see each other again." she smiled. After a brief moment of silence, she added "You're welcome for the ale, by the way." Bofur felt his brother kick his leg under the table and as if he was just woken up from a trance, he scooted over, patting the space next to him "Yes! Yes, thank you, you didn't have to do that. Would you like to join us?" (Y/N) giggled and slid onto the bench next to Bofur.

As the day drew to a close and merchants were less and less busy, the working attitude fell off of everyone's shoulders and was replaced with relaxed fun, that escalated more and more with time...and alcohol. And the small tavern wasn't any different. Conversations became louder and laughter more frequent. Everyone was having a good time. Bofur, Bombur and (Y/N) weren't an exception. The woman exchanged stories with the dwarves, although Bombur let his brother tell most of the stories, as he could do it better. Bombur was content listening, sometimes adding in details his brother forgot, but he enjoyed more seeing how the two were closer and closer to each other.

When (Y/N) first sat next to Bofur, there was a small, but appropriate distance between them, like with any people who just met that day. But as the night progressed and both of them were getting more and more comfortable (and probably tipsy, Bombur drank less than half the amount Bofur and (Y/N) did, because at least one of them had to be sober enough to drive them home), the distance between them was smaller and smaller, and now they were practically leaning on one another.

Everyone was having so much fun, they didn't even notice someone approaching their table until someone tapped (Y/N) on the shoulder. She turned to the stranger, recognizing him as one of the patrons in the tavern. With a smile, she asked "Can I help you?" The man rubbed his neck in a nervous manner and spoke "I hate to interrupt you miss, but me and my friends were thinking of playing some tunes to brighten the mood and the good lady behind the counter told us you can play spoons...If you'd like to join us?" (Y/N) looked uncertainly at Bofur and Bombur, but they only smiled, Bombur inhaling smoke from his pipe and Bofur encouraging her "You can play lass? Well I'd definitely love to see that!" he grinned at her. (Y/N) giggled and stood up, taking two spoons from the older woman efore making her way to the table where the musicians were sitting. They were already taking out their instruments. Soon, lovely music could be heard on the street. Not too long after, people from the outside began flocking in, first to see what was going on, lured and intrgued by the swift melodies and soon the tavern was bustling with life. The conversation between Bofur and Bombur ceased, the former too busy looking at (Y/N)'s hands working the spoons together, creating interesting rhythms.

After maybe an hour, the small establishment was filled with people. All tables were full and who couldn't sit was dancing in the open space. Some more musicians joined the original ones and (Y/N) was now more or less sitting by them and enjoying herself. The table where Bofur and Bombur were sitting at was no longer occupied by just them, but other people as well, strangers. They made conversation amongst themselves, not caring to include the brothers, so they just looked around, content in their silence. But Bombur noticed his brother's eyes always ending up on that girl. Once he had enough of Bofur's oggling, he nudged him across the table, motioning with his head towards her. "Ask her for a dance." he told him and Bofur shook his head, although the grin on his face suggested he was entertaining the idea even before Bombur asked. He stood up and carefully made his way around the dancing folk towards the band.

When he reached (Y/N), he smiled at her, although a bit sheepishly and extended his hand towards her, bowing slightly. She looked up at him and gently put her hand into his, letting him pull her up. "I thought you'd never ask." she smiled smugly at him.

They twirled around for what felt like eternity. His hands on hers, on her waist, her hands on his shoulders, their faces so close to each other, their breaths mingling. (Y/N)'s eyes rolled around, laughter pouring out of her pretty throat. Bofur's eyes seemingly couldn't leave her though. While hers were full of amazement and sparks, his held a tenderness that would surely make any girl swoon if they'd see it. And she looked at him. Her smile became more gentle, her lips slightly parted as they gazed into each other's soul.

"There you are!" someone grabbed (Y/N)'s arm tightly and oulled her away from her dancing partner. It was her sister and she was quite mad. "Do you realize what time it is?! I was looking for you all over the town!" she spewed at her, while (Y/N) only managed to blink, stil dazed from the moment she just had with the handsome dwarf. "It's time to go home." her sister decided and tried pulling her to the exit. (Y/N) pulled out of her grasp and signaled for her to wait a moment. She turned to Bofur, who was pretending to not listen, and grabbed his hand, making him look at her. She smiled sadly and kissed his cheek. As she let go of his hand and turned towards her sister, who started gesturing wildly and was probably trying to figure out what she just witnessed, Bofur grinned like a mad man. He touched his cheek carefully and mumbled "Till next time then, lass..."

[raaorqtpbpdy]

A Rift Forms

In this world, nanites exist inside every living thing, and can activate without warning, turning ordinary people into mutants and monsters. Danny is separated from his family during the chaos of the initial Nanite Event, after his sister is mutated. Before he can reunite with his family, Danny himself mutates as well, and the emergence of strange new powers transports him to a mysterious island.

This fic was written for Crossover Danuary Week 2024, Day 2: General Cartoons Generator Rex | Voyage Thanks @crossoverdanuary for running this event, and thanks @nefres for beta reading this for me 🧡

You can also read this fic on AO3, as well as Let Sleeping Dogs Rise, which this fic is a prequel to.

[Warnings for graphic body horror, violence, and manipulation]

The time immediately following the Nanite Event was pure chaos. It was days before anyone knew what happened, and all the while the nanites were spreading throughout the world, infecting everything—from plants and animals, to humans, to the very ground they walked on.

It was the most significant catastrophe in human history.

The Fenton family was on vacation.

Ten-year-old Danny, his twelve-year-old sister Jazz, and his mom and dad, who were both scientists, were all in Bulgaria for a big science symposium. They'd traveled all the way from the United States that summer for the event. 

Though only his parents would be attending the symposium, the whole family was brimming with excitement. It was Danny and his sister's first time out of the US. And while their parents were at the symposium, they got to explore the city, as long as they stayed together. 

Balchik was beautiful, if a bit crowded this time of year, and there was so much to see and do. Even if most of it involved frantically flipping through an English to Bulgarian phrasebook.

It was such a shame. Their timing couldn't have been worse.

It was a few days into their trip, and the family had just met up for a late lunch at a seaside restaurant when it happened.

A massive explosion, audible for miles.

No one knew what happened at first. But within the first hour, the changes began. In every country on the Black Sea, a mysterious dark cloud swept through in an ominous wave. It eclipsed the sun, and turned the sky a terrible red.

Then the monsters appeared.

What once had been a rat, a flower bush, a child—became something entirely else. Their bodies twisted, engorged, constricted, features vanishing, or multiplying. Their forms warped and mutated until they became unrecognizable as anything but abominations.

And these were not peaceful monsters.

They raged and rampaged. Attacked indiscriminately, with seemingly no rhyme or reason. They did not respond to pleas or screams of terror. And it didn't seem as though it was going to wear off any time soon.

Some people tried to fight back. Most recognized the hopelessness of such attempts, and chose to run instead. The Fentons were the latter. They slipped down side-streets where they were less likely to be seen and targeted by the monsters and kept moving.

"Stay calm, kids," Mom said. "We just have to stick together. Remember those camping trips we used to do for survival training. Everything will be alright."

Danny nodded and followed closely. The last thing he wanted was to be separated from them during a crisis of this magnitude.

"What's happening?!" Jazz shrieked over the sound of a building collapsing. 

"I don't know. But that sounded close," Dad observed, his huge shoulders tensing.

"We need to get out of the city," Mom said.

Even though the rest of them were barely holding it together, she was staying remarkably calm. It was like the air around her had changed. Her expression was severe, her shoulders squared, her gait confident. 

Danny didn't think his mother had ever experienced something like this before—heck, he didn't think anyone had ever experienced something like this before—but she suddenly carried herself like the knew exactly what she was doing.

His mom was always good in an emergency, but this was incredible, even for her.

"We have to see if this is happening other places, or just here," she continued. "Even if it's not just in the city, we'll be safer someplace there are fewer people. The last thing we need right now is to get caught in a huge crowd."

"The rental car is still parked near our hotel," Dad remembered. His voice was steady, but Danny could see his hands trembling, and knew he was just trying to stay strong for the rest of them. "If it hasn't been crushed, I mean." 

They'd already seen quite a few cars get crushed, so that was hardly a guarantee.

"That's a start," mom said. "It'll get us out of town, but it's low on gas right now, and I hardly think now's the time to stop and fill the tank."

"As long as it gets us out of town, we can wing it afterwards, right?" Danny said. "I just don't want to spend any more time around here if we can help it."

"Good enough for me!" Jazz agreed.

With that decided, they adjusted course toward their hotel, with their mother leading the way and father bringing up the rear. Mom held up a hand to stop them, looking around to ensure their surroundings were clear before they crossed through an open area.

When she was sure it was safe, she started moving again, and they cautiously started through square. There were still a few people running, trying to get to safety, but this area had been among the first to clear out, most people opting to hide in their homes or back-alleys. 

After seeing so much destruction already, though, Danny didn't think it was wise to entrust their safety to the structural integrity of these buildings. 

They were about halfway across the square.

It seemed like they were going to make it across safely.

Then the unthinkable happened.

Jazz stopped walking. She grunted and doubled over.

"Jazz?" Danny asked, stopping as well.

"Hold on!" Dad called forward to halt their progress so she wouldn't be left behind. "Jazz! Jazzy! What's wrong?"

Before their very eyes, she started to change. Her skin turned to gray, her hair dark blue, her eyes a glowing red. Sharp mandibles sprouted from her jaw, and hideous bulbous growths from her back, tearing her clothes. Her arms and legs grew longer, and spindly, fingers twisting together, joints inverting.

And all the while, she screamed. She screamed and screamed, the sound becoming steadily less human, until finally—agony gave way to rage.

"Jazz, no!" Danny shouted as the thing that had once been his sister attacked. "Stop, please!"

He dove out of the way of a spray of black acid that sizzled and ate a crater into the ground where he'd been standing an instant before. He shouldn't have looked back. Horror gripped him so he couldn't even move.

His parents rushed to his defense, but Jazz was strong, and wild, and they couldn't hold her down. She roared and screeched, and spat acid and spun webs. She moved at incredible speeds, and it was only thanks to his parents' strength and skill that Danny managed not to be killed in an instant.

"Danny, run!" his mother screamed. "Go north! Get as far away from here as possible! We'll find you!"

Danny hesitated. This didn't feel right. Rule number one was stick together. If they got separated they were done for. But... he couldn't fight this. He wasn't strong like his father, and he wasn't a karate master like his mom. He was good for a kid, but he was still just a kid. He was only ten, and he couldn't fight monsters.

"You heard your mother!" his dad yelled, keeping Jazz's attention firmly off of Danny. "Run!"

And so Danny did something he would always regret.

He ran.

He ran as fast and as far as his legs would carry him. And when his muscles burned and ached and he felt like he couldn't take another step, he kept running. 

He ran north, just like his mother had told him to, and didn't stop until his body collapsed from exhaustion. Then he dragged himself to the nearest shelter, an abandoned book shop with a shattered glass door, and tried to catch his breath. He'd run for miles by now, and had to be near the edge of town by now. The sun was still out, but steadily sinking in the west.

He was sheltered for now, but he wasn't safe just yet. There were still monsters around. As soon as he recovered, he had to find food and water, and then keep going. His parents would look for him outside of the city limits, since that's where they'd been planning to go.

Danny forced himself to take slow, deep breaths, even as his lungs screamed against them, and tried to come up with a plan. The electricity was still on, except in parts of the city where some creature had downed power lines, so it stood to reason that there would still be running water. 

Looking around, it seemed the book shop also sold things like book-bags and water-bottles. A backpack would be better, but a book bag would do. He knew stealing was wrong, but given the circumstances, he didn't think anyone would blame him. There wasn't any food here, but it was a bookstore, so maybe there would be a book about edible plants in this region.

It was twilight by the time Danny was back on his feet, bag packed. He'd picked out a dark green bag with black letters claiming Обичам да чета!, which, according to Danny's pocket phrasebook, meant 'I love to read!'. He'd found a book on regional plants, too, but it was also in Bulgarian. Luckily, he'd also found a Bulgarian to English dictionary, and had already memorized the words храна: 'food', and ядивен: 'edible'.

He'd been able to fill up two water bottles in the employee restroom, and had already drunk plenty enough to stay hydrated for a while, so he could preserve them. He'd also found some promotional matchbooks with the name of the bookstore on them, and stuffed a whole bunch in his bag. He knew how to start a fire without them, of course, but they still made things easier. He didn't know why a bookstore, of all places, would advertise with matches, but he wasn't complaining.

Since it was starting to get dark, Danny thought about hunkering down in the bookstore overnight, but changed his mind when all those building collapses he'd seen that day flashed through his mind. He had to stay alive until his parents found him again, and he couldn't do that if he was crushed under rubble while he slept. He had to get out of the city limits as soon as possible.

He couldn't run anymore, but he kept moving forward. His legs felt like jelly, and with each step, he worried they might give out on him, but he pressed onward. His stomach groaned, but he grit his teeth and ignored it. There was little chance of him being able to find something to eat before it was fully dark, and even less chance afterwards. He resolved himself to go to sleep hungry tonight.

It was well after sundown when he finally reached the city limits. Once he crossed an empty highway, he entered a forest. The stars were completely blotted out, and the light of the red-stained moon was not enough to build a proper shelter by. 

Searching mostly by feel, Danny found a nest of fallen trees that had naturally formed something like a lean-to. The boy was just small enough to crawl under it and be protected from predators and the elements. He wrapped his arms around himself and thanked whoever or whatever might be listening for the warm summer weather. Then he fell into a fitful sleep.

Over the next few days, Danny shifted into survival mode. He studied his book of plants religiously, and foraged like his life depended on it—because it did. Survival mode was exhausting. When his life hung in the balance, a day felt like a week, and when he slept, he had to sleep lightly.

There were still monsters in the forest. But the ones that had once been plants were easy to avoid because they stayed rooted in the soil, and couldn't reach him if he ran away. And the ones that had once been animals were easy to avoid because they weren't very smart, and couldn't usually find him if he hid. Some of them could find him by scent, but so far, none of them could climb trees, so he'd found a way to avoid them as well.

He'd never been more grateful in his life for all those survival training camping trips his parents have made him and his sister do. Without them, he knew he would have been dead already.

Each day he watched and waited for his family to come and find him. He listened for his parents' voices calling his name. For his sister's voice, too. Although he hadn't yet seen any of the monsters return to their original form, a small part of him hoped that Jazz would be the exception. As annoying as his older sister was, he still wanted her back.

It was on the third day that the infection came for him as well. One moment, he was flipping through his guidebook to figure out whether a certain type of mushroom was edible or not; the next, all his muscles seized up. 

He howled in agony as he felt his hand and arms warp, bones stretching, muscles engorging, skin bulging. A splitting pain ripped through his sides and he screeched. Behind his eyes, he felt a horrible pressure and his vision blurred and refocused over and over again in rapid succession. He didn't know or want to know what was happening there.

Desperately, grunting and panting, he stumbled to the nearby creek, finding it mostly by sound, hoping to find relief in the cool waters. 

Something was seriously wrong. 

No.

Everything was seriously wrong.

He tried to reach up to push a branch out of the way, but his arm was so heavy. His vision cleared up again just long enough for him to see something swollen and flesh-colored where his forearm had once been, but it hardly looked like a forearm. He felt like a gorilla, pushing himself along with both his hands and feet, just trying to move. The angle was wrong. Was he standing? Were his arms always this long?

He never made it to the creek.

His shouts had attracted a group of hungry monsters that probably used to be wolves. He could see them clearly now, but he almost wished he couldn't. He scrambled back, despite his body screaming at him to stop moving! It hurts, god, it hurts so much! 

The once-wolves surrounded him, were practically on top of him. 

One of them leaped.

Unthinkingly, he swiped at it with an absolutely massive hand, the force of the motion dragging him off balance so he fully collapsed onto the mossy ground. He didn't know what his goal was, to let it gnaw on his fingers, or bat it to the ground. 

What actually happened was a rip in space appearing between him and the once-wolf, bright green and pulsing with energy. When the creature ran into it, it fell right through and disappeared. Then the rip closed.

The rest of the once-wolves snarled, snapping at him with two sets of teeth in their wide maws, their eyes glowing red and fixed right on him. But they didn't seem too eager to get close.

They were afraid.

Danny was afraid too.

Now that he could see again he glanced down and saw that the pain in his sides was caused by two bony protrusions that had ripped right through the sides of his shirt, small now, but slowly growing. He tore his eyes away, first looking up into the dark branches above and taking a sharp breath in, then looking back at the creatures.

He just wanted to go home. He wanted to be with his family again. Really, he would take being anywhere but here, as long as he wasn't alone. He forced himself not to squeeze his eyes closed and wish everything away. Not now, not when he was surrounded and in pain. There was a more immediate problem to deal with.

Another once-wolf decided to take the leap, and Danny swiped a hand again, and again, a glowing green rip opened up. But this time, the creature dodged it. At a loss for anything else to do, and without enough time to think of a proper plan, Danny summoned all the strength he had left and jumped through it himself. Then it closed behind him. 

He had no idea where he would end up, or if he'd even survive, but he hadn't really been thinking. He'd just acted.

He landed prone on dark, damp soil and rolled onto his back with a groan. He could hear the sound of waves nearby, but he didn't have the energy to lift his head. The sky above him was red. The land around him was barren.

Either he hadn't gone very far, or the whole world was like this.

He didn't know how long he laid there, taking slow, deep breaths, and willing the pain to fade. He was pretty sure his transformation was over. His arms were almost as long as his body now, and grew inhumanly larger below the elbows. His forearms and hands had engorged to a terrible size. The things protruding from either side of his torso had grown into a fully formed and functional second set of arms—otherwise ordinary, save for the placement. 

His legs seemed to be the same as before. His head was still screwed on straight. Whatever had happened to his eyes, he still didn't know, but thankfully it was over now, and he could see clearly again.

His body had changed, but his mind was the same. Was it the same way for Jazz? Had she just been freaking out about being turned into a monster? Would she be the same annoying sister he'd always known once she calmed down again?

No... probably not.

Danny had seen a lot of those monsters in the last three days. 

Some of them had clearly been human before. And they clearly weren't anymore. None of them were calm or reasonable. They were animalistic, their actions primal, and instinctual. Now he'd been transformed just like they had, with no signs of being able to turn back. But somehow he wasn't like the rest of them.

Danny had spent enough time around his scientist parents to know what an outlier was, and in this instance, he was one.

His parents.... 

How would they ever find him now? Even he had no idea where he was anymore, so how could they know? He was pretty sure he wasn't in the woods north of Balchik anymore. Not even close.

How was he going to get back to them?

He didn't know.

Finally, when the pain had eased to a dull enough ache that he could ignore it, Danny got to his feet—wobbling from the unexpected weight of his arms before he found his balance—and properly examined his surroundings. 

In one direction was a beach. Dark sand and dark water reflecting the red light of the sun. In the other direction was a forest, though all the trees looked dead, charred and blackened with ash, their branches bare. Not like the woods he'd just come from, which were still green and full of life. 

It seemed like something very bad had happened in this place. 

Danny didn't really want to find out what.

He'd dropped his book bag at some point, in his panic. Losing the books wasn't so bad. He had no idea if he was even in Bulgaria anymore, and if he wasn't, those books wouldn't do him much good. Losing his water bottles and his matchbooks, on the other hand, made things difficult. Luckily, he still had his knife in the pocket of his jeans, and one matchbook with three matches left.

"I guess I might as well test the water," he said to himself. 

If it was freshwater, he might be okay. He didn't have anything to boil it in, but he could risk it in an emergency. If it was salty, then he'd have to head into the woods and look for another water source. 

He reached one massive hand into the water and tried to bring it to his nose to smell. The size of his hand made him cringe, and using it was awkward. Instead of gently holding it near his nose, he overshot and smacked himself in the face, splashing himself with the water and knocking him onto his butt.

"Eugh!" he yelped, in a mixture of shock and disgust. 

Now that it was all over his face, he knew right away that it was salt water. He tried to wipe away the water with the back of his forearm, but he wasn't adjusted to the size and nearly smothered himself. Bruised and damp, he realized that he was going to have to get used to this. It wasn't going away, so he would have to learn to live with it, one way or another.

Danny took another deep breath, his chest shaking, his hands trembling—all four of them. His eyes watered and he blinked back tears. He had enough salt water on his face between the seawater and the sweat, and crying wouldn't help him, it would just make him even more vulnerable to attack from predators.

Thinking that didn't really help either though. He was just a kid, and he was lost, afraid, alone, separated from his family, and as if that wasn't bad enough, now he was a monster.

"Why is this happening?" he asked himself, his voice small and broken.

He'd never been so stressed in his entire life, and it was hard to push that down to focus on staying alive like his parents had always taught him to. Everything was hard. He just wanted to bury himself in the sand and cry until he was too dehydrated to think.

But now was not the time to succumb to his childish urge to cry. Now was not the time to curl up in a ball and give in to his fear and loneliness. Now was not the time to give up. If he gave up, he might as well be dead already. He had to survive. He had to, or abandon all hope of seeing his family again.

"First, find a source of fresh water," Danny recited with a wavering, choked up voice, reminding himself of his wilderness survival training. "Then build a shelter nearby. Then search for familiar-looking plants to forage, and small animals to hunt only if you have the means to safely prepare them."

Each footstep felt monumental as he started into the woods. Each step was harder than the last. He clenched his fists, too many of them, sending weird signals that his brain didn't quite know how to translate, and he gritted his teeth, and he pressed onward, struggling to stay on his feet. 

He kept going, deeper and deeper into the woods. Watching and listening for any signs of a river, or creek. All he heard was the wind through the dead trees, and all he saw was dust and ash.

As time passed, he began to notice a new problem.

Green crept into the edges of his vision. Not a dark green like the leaves of trees—certainly not in these woods. No, it was a bright green, toxic-looking, the same color as those rips he had created before. When he looked down, he noticed that green pulsing under his skin, in his veins, glowing in the dim light of the forest.

It didn't hurt—not yet, at least—but it felt like pressure was building up inside him. 

Then those green openings started to appear again. Small tears at first, like the ones he'd opened before, except he wasn't opening them on purpose anymore. He waved a gigantic hand at one, hoping to make it go away, but it only grew larger. A wide, round portal, big enough for him to walk through upright when the ones he'd opened before had barely had room enough to dive through headlong.

He swallowed anxiously, but stepped through. 

Maybe, he thought, it would take him home, or to his family.

The portal only took him even deeper into this same forest. Frustrated, Danny opened another portal, thinking of his mother, of hugging her tightly.

More dead, empty woods.

The pressure kept building. It felt like it was starting to push against his bones, now, like if he kept going they would crack. He clenched his jaw and tried to slow his breathing and stay calm.

He tried again, thinking of his father, of sitting on the large man's shoulders, and looking down at everyone, and feeling like the king of the world.

Again, the portal only led him deeper into the woods. But now, he could see a hill, covered in more dead trees, with a crumbling castle on the hilltop. Was that where these portals were trying to take him? Maybe he could find help there.

The pressure was too strong now. Painful, and impossible to ignore. A throbbing, burning sensation boiling inside him. His breathing grew heaving. Sweat poured off him. That painful pressure kept building and building until he thought he might burst.

A sharp pain shot through Danny's bulging upper arms and he groaned through gritted teeth.

More portals opened. And more. And more. Around him and through him, green light tearing openings in the fabric of space right through him. 

He screamed. He screamed for what felt like hours as he fought to remain conscious.

It was useless, screaming.

No one was around to hear him.

Or so he thought.

Green turned black as he fell through yet another portal before finally passing out from the pain. The last thing he registered was landing on cold stone.

———

Danny could hear an electric humming sound. Before he even opened his eyes, he heard that sound, like an old refrigerator, or a space heater. Neither of those things belonged in the woods. That meant he couldn't be in the woods anymore. Cautiously, Danny opened his eyes.

Hanging directly above him was a big, round hunk of metal which appeared to be the source of the humming sound. It looked heavy, like it might crush him if it fell, and he decided he'd better get up before that happened.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a man's voice came from somewhere to Danny's left. "That magnet is the only thing keeping you alive right now."

"What?" Danny's voice was hoarse from screaming, and his throat was dry. He never had found a source of water. He swallowed.

Looking over, he saw a man sitting at a desk, tinkering with something. He wore a bulky gauntlet on one hand, made of bronze or brass, or one of those brownish metals. His long, gray hair was greasy, but pulled back into ponytail, neat on one side and messy on the other, like he'd been wearing his gauntlet when he put it up for some reason.

"Who are you?" Danny demanded, though he could barely raise his voice, so it didn't sound much like a demand. "What's going on?"

"I am Vlad Masters," the man said, turning in his chair to look at Danny for the first time. "Most people just call me by my surname, but you may call me what you please. I'm a scientist. You fell through some kind of portal into my lab, and were suffering from unstable activated nanites. To put it simply, you were dying. I saved you."

"But only as long as I stay under the magnet."

"For now," Vlad replied. "It was never going to be more than a temporary fix. I'm currently designing a device that will keep you alive long-term. Something much less crude and more effective than a simple electromagnet."

"And the magnet... attracts nanites away from me?" Danny asked, putting together the pieces of what this man had told him. Nanites were one of those sciencey things he'd heard his parents talking about back home. "Nanites like super tiny robots? Why are there nanites in me?"

"Well, that... is a longer story, but I suppose I can sum it up for you," Vlad said, frowning. "Not far from here, a group of scientists was experimenting with nanites, creating and programming them. But a few days ago there was... an accident. An explosion led to a massive containment breach. The nanites they had created were spread far and wide, but they were unfinished, and instead of helping people as they were intended to do...."

"They created monsters," Danny realized, anger rising hot in his chest. "The nanites did this! They made me like this! They mutated my sister!"

"I'm sorry," Vlad said. "I've faced off against a few mutated creatures and people in the past few days—around here, so close to ground zero, the only ones who survived were changed—you're the first person I've seen besides myself who didn't lose their mind. Is your sister like you?"

Danny looked down at his hands, but it wasn't long before he had to look away. They were wrong and disgusting, and he couldn't stand the sight of himself.

"No... she.... No."

"I'm sorry," Vlad said again. "What about the rest of your family?"

Danny didn't respond for a long moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was even quieter than before.

"I don't know." It was the first time he had admitted that to himself, or at all. "My parents were still normal the last time I saw them, but that was days ago. We were supposed to meet up again north of Balchik in Bulgaria, but then... this happened to me, and I don't even know where I am anymore."

"You're on an island in the Black Sea," came the answer. "Officially, it's unnamed, but I call it Abysus."

Danny said nothing. Now that he'd said it, he couldn't stop thinking about the possibility that his parents had turned, like him... like Jazz. What if they weren't themselves anymore? What if he did manage to find them again, but they'd lost their minds and they tried to kill him?

"That's not your primary concern, is it?" Vlad surmised.

Danny inhaled sharply, shoulders tense, and shook his head.

"How old are you?"

"Ten," he answered.

"You need someone to look out for you then," said Vlad, thoughtfully. "I'll tell you what. I plan to turn Abysus into a safe haven for people like us. For those of us who were changed by the nanites, but still possess our reason and consciousness. If you stay here, and join me, I can take care of you. I can create a device that keeps your new powers from overwhelming or harming you like they were."

"What if I choose to leave and find my family?"

"Then I'm afraid I can't help you," came the response. Vlad's voice was gentle, but firm. "The device I'm designing to help you must be regularly drained of the excess nanites you attract, and I'm the only one who can do that. You see, when I changed, I gained the ability to manipulate nanites to an extent," he explained. "I am the only one who can help you."

"Can you help me find my family then?" Danny asked. Surely as long as the two of them stayed together they could still look.

"I'm afraid not," Vlad refused with a mournful shake of his head. "You see, I am dependent on the nanites here to survive. I was too near the explosion, I would have been vaporized. This nanite-rich environment is the only thing keeping me alive. If I leave this island... well, I don't know what could happen. I could very well crumble to dust.

"Perhaps... someday, once things have calmed down, I'll be able to invent something that allows me to leave, like I'm inventing something to help you."

Danny frowned, his brows furrowed. If that was the case, then he didn't have much of a choice, did he? He could either stay here with Vlad in the relative safety of Abysus, or he could leave and die. And if he died, then he would never see his family again. If he stayed, at least there would be a chance of reuniting with them, even if it was a long time before Vlad found a way to leave.

"Alright," he said. "I'll join you."

"Excellent," Vlad said. His smile was wide, but it still made Danny's stomach churn. "What's your name, son?"

"I'm not your son," Danny sneered. "My name is Danny."

"Oh, come now, we can do better than that," Vlad said dismissively. "You're a new man, you should have a name to reflect that." He thought about it only for a moment before saying, "How about Rift?"

"What's that mean?"

"A rift is a crack or opening in something," Vlad explained. "Like you create openings in space. What do you think?"

What Danny thought was that this man held his life in his hands, and arguing with him would be a really stupid thing to do.

"Alright," he agreed. "Rift is fine."

"I look forward to working with you, then, Rift."

"Sure," Danny—Rift agreed, though it wasn't true. Not in the slightest.

[academicdisasterfic]

Threshing

drarry | 1.5k | e

A slightly late gift for the lovely @anaxandria-writes for @drarrymicrofic Wheel of Drarry mini-exchange. Thank you to my love @wolfpants for the fantastic beta.

CW for chronic/terminal illness (but with a happy ending).

Years later, Draco would think it all began when the bartender asked him, ‘Would you like the shiraz, sir, or the tempranillo?’

‘Tempranillo,’ Draco said, but as it transpired, they had run out of the tempranillo, and the bartender had to dash out to the back for more, despite Draco’s protests that the shiraz would be fine.

Draco was left to tap his fingers on the wooden counter, and as he gazed aimlessly around the crowded room, he wondered  whether thirty was going to feel any different to twenty-nine.

And that’s when he saw him; lingering by the door, flannel rolled up to his elbows, dark stubble covering his jaw. He looked tired, and Draco knew, knew before he even saw the string appear between them. He didn’t hesitate; it was like drawing breath, walking over to him, and Harry looked so relieved, as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment, even though neither of them could have known, as these things were never able to be predicted, not even by the most gifted Seers or centaurs.

The string shortened and drew them together, and Draco reached out his hand to cup Harry’s face.

‘You look tired,’ Draco said, and Harry leant into his neck, inhaling, grabbing Draco’s waist, drawing their bodies together, fitting Draco’s hip bones against his. Draco gasped.

‘Of course it’d be you,’ Harry muttered, and then, ‘we’re going back to mine.’

They fucked in the kitchen, over dirty dishes and piles of unread mail on the sticky counter, Harry eating Draco from behind until Draco couldn’t take it and wrestled them to the ground, sinking down on Harry’s cock and riding him against the hard wooden floor.

They fucked on the sofa, Draco opening Harry quickly and efficiently so he could take him from behind, Harry whimpering harder, harder into the cushions.

They fucked in Harry’s bed, this time slow and reverent, Harry sucking Draco’s nipples until Draco was thrashing and sobbing, arching up and begging to be touched, and then Harry pushed into him and held his face between his huge, calloused hands. That's when Draco fell in love with him; fell in love as Harry covered him and held him like a precious, beloved thing, like he couldn't believe he was allowed to love, and be loved, by him.

After, spent and exhausted, Draco looked at where the string joined them, and asked, ‘Why now?’

Harry smiled, crooked and sweet, and kissed the back of Draco’s palm.

‘Probably because I’m dying.’

…

People weren’t supposed to be Horcruxes.

When Voldemort destroyed the part of his soul that lived inside Harry, Harry’s magical core didn’t know what to do. It had spent seventeen years growing and shaping itself around something that was no longer there, and it rebelled.

Harry hadn’t noticed for the first five years or so, too lost in the aftershocks of peace. But then he noticed the exhaustion, then the heart palpitations, the weird visions, the way he couldn’t quite cast like he used to. And by the time the Healers had figured out what had happened, it was far too late.

Back then, he still had good days, and Draco took advantage of them; dragged them out to the mountains, to the seaside, to gay clubs and bars and parades. He moved into Harry’s flat and quit his job so they could spend the bad days in bed together, doing the Prophet crossword and drinking tea and watching daytime soaps. He couldn’t feel Harry’s pain exactly, not like in the soulmate stories he was told as a child, but sometimes he did think he knew Harry better than he knew himself; knew the meaning of an eyebrow twitch, or a downturned lip, or a slight hand tremor. Loving Harry had been easy, effortless; like falling through clouds, and then when Harry was writhing in spasms, or sleeping through whole days, or waking in sweats and shouts, it was more painful than Draco had ever imagined pain could be.

Sometimes, Harry would get distant and withdraw, wracked with guilt that the bond hadn’t given Draco a choice but to care for him. Draco would get angry that Harry could even conceive of such a thing; even contemplate the thought of them not being together. Harry still wanted to put everyone else before himself, and Draco was still the same spoiled boy who wanted more than he should. He never made any apologies for that.

Sex became more gentle, with more laughter. Draco snorted into Harry’s mouth once when Harry tried to wrap his legs around him and his entire back cracked; Draco placed pillows under his head and knees instead, and sank down on him slowly, just like the first time, only now appreciating every detail; the greys in Harry’s hair that Draco actually thought were really fucking sexy, the soft dark hair beneath his navel, the dark circles beneath his eyes that refused to budge. 

Sometimes Harry couldn’t finish, and Draco would try not to be upset about it. If he was, it was never in front of Harry.

…

The summer they both turned thirty five, Harry stopped being able to cast.

He was still magical; Draco could feel it, even when Harry couldn’t, could feel the golden warmth surrounding him, and could also feel its frustration, the way Harry’s magic so desperately wanted to escape and couldn’t.

Things got worse after that.

Harry’s fits were worse, and he was addled and confused after, taking hours to come back to himself. Draco could only sit by the bed and stroke his hair, read to him, watch as Longbottom and Lovegood came in with increasingly bizarre herbal concoctions which never did anything, but Draco appreciated them both anyway, the way they teased Harry, reminded him who he was.

Granger and Weasley were more distressed and less able to be funny, but they tried as hard as they could. Rose liked to snuggle next to Harry after his fits, tell him about her friends and teachers, knowing he wouldn’t remember the details but was always soothed by her voice.

Teddy didn’t visit very much, which Draco couldn’t blame him for; he’d lost enough parents.

One morning, Draco was woken up by Harry’s lips on his neck, and his hand over his stomach.

‘I want you to give the Invisibility Cloak to Hugo,’ he whispered. Draco’s blood ran cold. ‘James and Sirius’ mirror to Ron. The Potter fortune to Teddy. Everything else is yours.’

Draco wanted to scream at him. To point to the string, still a vibrant red connecting them, and ask him how he could even fathom leaving Draco; why his body didn’t love Draco enough to keep fighting, to stay alive. 

But Harry had already fallen asleep again.

…

Not even Voldemort had dared approach the fae. They took more than they gave, always, but as long as the thing they gave Draco was Harry, he didn’t care what he’d sacrifice.

The Forbidden Forest was very dark, and very quiet.

‘You called,’ came a voice. The fae never showed themselves. 

‘I require your help,’ Draco said, voice firm. 

‘For your mate?’

‘Yes.’ Draco tried to imagine Harry, seventeen and terrified, walking to his death out here. He just had to be half as brave, and he could do this. And then he thought about Harry in their bed, skin blotchy and grey, his body shaking in pain, and everything else faded into insignificance. ‘He’s dying. And he saved you too, that day.’

‘That’s debatable.’ The voice sounded vaguely affronted, and Draco stared stonily ahead. ‘It would have taken more than a mere human to eradicate us.’

‘I know. But it would have been harder without Harry.’ Draco squeezed his eyes closed. ‘You would have had to leave the Forest.’

Something squawked overhead, startling Draco's eyes open. The stars were very bright.

‘You do have the power to save your mate,’ the voice echoed, seeming closer, and Draco’s heart soared. ‘But something must be given; energy cannot be destroyed or created. A life cannot be created from anything other than a life. Do you understand?’

Harry was never going to forgive him. Draco was okay with that.

…

Years later, Draco would think it all actually began when the bartender asked him, ‘What do you want tonight, sir?’

Draco flicked his gaze over him, and the bartender flushed. ‘Usual spot, Sebastian. Five minutes.’

Pulses thrummed in the dark, smoky room. The night smelled like sex; arousal and sweat and blood.

Harry had started by the time he got out there. Sebastian was always too keen. It was one of the things they liked about him.

‘Hello,’ Draco said, amused, and Harry unlatched himself from the young man’s neck. He was so beautiful like this; selfish and greedy and so very alive.

Or a version of it.

‘Does he taste good, Harry?’ Draco asked. Harry and Sebastian groaned at the same time. ‘My turn.’

He did taste good, Draco thought with satisfaction. Sebastian moaned as Draco pressed his hardness against him, eyes rolling back in pleasure. Behind them, Harry was panting, and when Draco finally sent Sebastian back inside with a Blood-Replenishment Potion and a quick cleaning charm, Harry was on him in seconds.

‘Here?’ Draco asked, amused, and Harry growled softly.

‘I can’t wait.’ His voice was gruff and low and his eyes were trained on Draco’s lips. Draco smiled and lifted his hand to cup Harry’s face, string dangling between them, blood-red and taut.

‘Sweetheart. We have time.’

[stellamancer]

don’t, if you value your life (one-sided nier x reader)

notes: i have had the idea of this fic in my head ever since i finished replicant like a year ago. of all the things i expected to write on my days off, this was absolutely not one of them, but at midnight a demon possessed my body and puked out the fic. though i think of it more of a writing exercise since anyone knows me knows that my typical genre of fic is completely on the other side of the spectrum of this. 

contains: angst (no happy ending), canon-typical violence, mentions of blood, suicide ideation, very minor stalking, character death, largely un-beta read, language (Kainé is present after all). 

wc: 3.9k words

if you read this and think i need to add a tag, please tell me. 

Don't go into that village. 

Don't go near it. 

Don't, if you value your life. 

The words of your elders are etched into your brain— your mind. It's a mantra, a hymn, a warning. The village in question is a quiet place, nestled in verdant hills, built upon the ruins of the old world. They say it's peaceful there, pretty even, but the village houses a great and terrible monster. One that will kill on sight— without hesitation, without mercy. 

When you were younger, the curiosity, morbid and insatiable clawed at your heart. Maybe the elders were over exaggerating, maybe they were mistaken, maybe there was no monster at all. You thought about it sometimes, thought about tempting fate and visiting the forbidden village. Someone said that there's a library there and you'd love to see one, even just once. However, everyone who ignored the words of elders— who set off to see that village never, ever returned. 

That, in of itself, was enough to prove the monster was real. 

And so, you stayed away.

You didn't need to see a library, the view of the ocean near your home was beautiful enough to fill your heart and mind, leaving no room for thoughts of merciless, bloodthirsty monsters. For the most part, your existence has been quiet and peaceful.

At least it was, until the monster left its village. 

Until the monster came to the seaside town you called your home. 

Truth be told, it's not the first time the monster has appeared in your hometown, but its visits were well communicated— the sentries stationed outside the town quick to inform everyone to hide for the monster was on the way. Those visits were spent in the shadows hiding with bated breath— hoping and praying the monster would never notice. Your mother had hidden you well away, afraid that even laying eyes on the monster would condemn you to a fate far too sad. So you didn't know, you didn't know—

The screaming through the town is sudden and shrill, the sound running chills down your body. It is a siren biding you to run if you value your life. You and those around you act on instinct, running, scampering across the streets. Some run further into town, some toward the harbor, you run toward the lighthouse, abandoned since its caretaker died some years ago. You think it will be safest. The monster is said to be indiscriminate with its slaughtering, but also intelligent— surely, it won't come looking for murder in a place where no one is supposed to be. And if it does… you can choose to end it yourself rather than at the monster's bloody hands. 

You ascend the lighthouse, two steps at a time. The cacophony of carnage is muffled here— distant, but still ominous in the background. You quickly reach the top of the tower and the town is so saturated in the stench of death that not even the salty sea breeze that's filling your lungs can displace it. From here you can see it all, your peers running in all directions, scattering like petals in the wind. 

It is here, for the very first time, you see the monster. 

If not for the large, bloodied greatsword in his hands, you would think him more a man than a monster. You cannot make much of his features from atop the lighthouse, save for his hair, shimmering like a beautiful white pearl in the sunlight. A strange, morbid frustration tears at your stomach as you strain your eyes in efforts to get a better look at this monster. He rushes at a group, too slow, too unfortunate and looks to effortlessly cleave them, slicing their bodies into ribbons. 

You should be horrified. Disgusted. Afraid. 

Instead, you are transfixed. 

Your body is stock still as you bear witness to the monster's massacre. He is every bit as cruel as the elders said— there is no hesitation, no mercy in the swing of his sword as he fells your neighbors and friends one by one. You are lucky that you ran to such a secluded area, just as you figured, the monster of a man doesn't bother to come your way. You wonder if he thinks there is no carnage to be found in such an abandoned place. 

Do monsters even think?

You remain there, rooted to the spot until you see the monster, a bloodstained pearl, wander toward the town's entrance. Once he's gone, your legs finally give out from beneath you, the weight of it all hitting you like a tidal wave. Eventually, you crawl your way down the steps of the lighthouse and into the town proper to find any survivors.

After a few hours, everyone is rounded up. Only just a fourth of your small community remains. No one is without loss— friends, family, lovers are all victims to the monster's rampage. Your heart seizes in your chest when you realize your mother is among the lost. She had been home when the disaster came to pass, waiting for you to return from an errand she had sent you out for. Had she come looking for you when all hell broke loose? Was she searching for you when she drew her last breath? Was your unconfirmed safety what cost her her life? 

Despaired and disgusted, you retch. 

You should have run home instead of to the lighthouse. Because you didn't, your mother is dead. Or maybe, if you had gone back, you would have perished together, you holding your mother in a shielding embrace as the monster brings the sword down. Or, more morbidly, the monster taking your life before your mother's eyes before claiming her life as well. You don't know. You throw up again. 

The remaining shuffle to the beach, erecting crude graves of shells and stones there. One of the older members of the community recites a prayer, something reminiscent of the olden days before the ebbing tide washes the graves away. 

In the days after the slaughter, the community is especially quiet, mourning. You don't know what to do in the absence of your mother, most of your friends were among the deceased as well: you have no one left. Some of the few remaining turn to anger in their grief: marching off to the forbidden village to claim what all know to be suicide disguised as declarations of revenge. You think it's because they don't know what to do either. 

There is almost no one left in your small seaside town and the decision is made to find another community. You follow wordlessly, carrying nothing but your memories of your quiet and peaceful life because they are all that you have left. 

Fortunately, there is another community close to your seaside town, sequestered in a building large enough to home at least a dozen families. From the outside the building looks like a fancy mansion, but the interior creeps you out– it's too quiet, too eerie. To make matters worse, the community lives beneath the mansion, in what seems to be a mad scientist's lab. You almost feel like at any moment you're going to become an experiment. Some of the members of this new community seem like they already are one. 

The only good thing about your new home is that there is a library. Shelves and shelves of books line the wall. It is the only place in the mansion that has character, but there are rules that restrict visiting the library. You don't care. The rules don't matter much any more.

Nothing really matters much any more. 

It is in the library where you see the monster a second time. 

While perusing what appears to be some kind of fairy tale you hear footsteps in the hall and you instinctively scamper off into a hiding spot. You're not in the mood to be caught and lectured by the guards for breaking the rules tonight. The doors swing open and it's not the guards who walk in but the monster himself, accompanied by two— three others?

You watch from the shadows as the monster and his comrades move about the library. As he chats with them, you can't help but think of him as more of a man than a monster. He banters with… a floating book? How strange. How interesting. You'd love to see the contents of a talking book one day. 

It is much easier to make out the man's features in such close quarters. You think that he can't be much older than you. He's handsome, much more handsome than a monster has any right being. There's some odd urge to get a better look at his face pooling in your stomach. Your instinct is to act on it, to just get closer and look and look and—

Don't go near it.

Don't, if you value your life.

The old mantra holds you still like a spell, the warning coursing through your veins, keeping you taut. But still you keep watching the man, the monster. He laughs with what you have come to realize are his friends and you think he almost seems human. Is this really the same monster that wreaked havoc on your little town a few months ago?

The man and his friends soon leave the library, the talking book bickering with the man's lady friend about her choice in dress. When you are sure that they are gone and not coming back you emerge from your hiding place and settle yourself in with the fairy tale book you had been reading. Hours pass before you've read your fill and you make your way back to the cold, metal depths your community calls home. 

What you find upon arrival is not the low, but comforting chatter of your new friends and new neighbors, but dozens upon dozens of bloodstains— fresh and sticky. The stench of death is thick in the air, a sickening and stifling miasma. Before you can think, your feet are racing through the halls, screams reverberating against the walls as you search and search and search.

But you find no one. 

You are the only survivor. 

No one is left and you don't know what to do with yourself. There is a distant thought bidding you to return to the library, to drown yourself in books, in stories of another land, another time, another place where things matter and happy endings exist.

There is another thought, closer, louder and it is of the man. The handsome man. The terrible monster. Something in you desires to seek him out. Not for revenge, because you know that would be pointless, but merely because you want to get a better look at his face before you meet your inevitable end. 

You make it your goal— your reason to live. At this point, you're not even sure if you can call what you're doing living. You leave the mansion with this goal; it's all you have left. 

The journey to the forbidden village is not that long, it only takes a day on foot. But when you get to the edge you hesitate, unsure. 

What if the monster of a man isn't here?

You shake your head. Nonsense. This is his home. No other monsters have come to destroy it for he is surely the strongest one in all the land. He will definitely be here. 

Shuffling past what looks to be an abandoned camp, you make your way toward the village gates. Naturally, there are guards, but you manage to hop the fence, avoiding their attention. 

The village, despite being forbidden, is fairly peaceful. Quiet. It reminds you of your seaside home. You keep to the shadows as you steal past a row of merchants, watching as a few children play tag around a cobblestone fountain. 

Now that you're here, you realize you have no clue where to find the monster of a man. But there is one building, sitting atop a grassy hill above all the rest. You think it's a good idea to start there. 

You slink your way up the hill and you spot a few more children playing in the grass. To your surprise, a couple notice you. Surprising you further, they wave. Shyly, you wave back before bolting toward the tall building, not wanting to remain in the same spot lest the children go running to their parents. When you reach the top of the hill, you look back. The children are still playing and you breathe a sigh of relief before entering the building. 

It turns out that this is the famed library of the forbidden village. The feeling of joy, strange yet familiar, bubbles pleasantly in your stomach. You’re here to find the monster, but surely it’s fine if you take a detour. This library is much bigger than the one at the mansion— there are more books to bury yourself in, more stories to fill the void in your heart that’s been growing ever since you left your seaside town. You peruse the titles on the shelves and when you find one you don’t recognize you pull at it, freeing it from the shelf and watching as it falls to the ground, the smack echoing throughout the otherwise silent library. You freeze, fearful that someone will come running to find the source of the noise. When no one does, you scoop up the book and scamper off to a quiet, dark corner of the library to read. 

Part way through the story, the main doors of the library slam open, demanding your attention and you look up from the top of your book only to find the monster of a man. But it doesn’t look like he’s here to read, instead he briskly walks the length of the lobby. Your eyes remain glued to his form as he runs up the stairs and disappears onto the library’s second floor. The thought to follow him crosses your mind, but you remain still. He will have to come back down the stairs when he leaves— you will follow him then. You turn your attention back to the story, a little saddened that your attention is divided: it was just starting to get good. Maybe you’ll get a chance later to reread it, give it your full attention. 

Some time later, you hear footsteps again and quietly close your book. The man appears, descending the staircase, his handsome face marred by a scowl. Idly, you wonder what happened to make him upset like that, but ultimately, it doesn’t matter. You stare from your dark little corner, waiting for him to leave before you follow after him, sure to keep yourself out of sight, sure to keep yourself at a safe distance. 

Don't go near it.

Don't, if you value your life.

The monster heads toward a house, fenced in and half-dilapidated. Despite that, there’s something about the home that is warm, cozy. A stark difference from the terribly violent image of the monster that the elders painted for you. You watch, hidden in the shadow of a nearby building, as the monster tends to a flower bed next to his home, watering and weeding them before he heads inside. Through the window you see the glimmer of light, and once you’re sure he won’t suddenly come out and kill you where you stand, you draw closer to the house. 

Curious, you examine the flowers. You are not an expert on plants, but they look well cared for. It’s strange. Why would a monster so lovingly tend to plants? A monster by nature, by definition, is a creature of destruction, so why? You don’t understand. 

But you want to, against all instinct, against all odds, you want to.

You start to follow after the monster as he goes about his business, or more accurately, the business of others, running errands for them: delivering packages and messages, fishing, committing atrocities against your people. You’re always sure to stay a safe distance away— close enough to observe, yet far enough to not get wrapped up in the carnage. But sometimes, a reckless rush runs through your veins and you steal closer, listening in on his conversations with his comrades, his friends. You learn their names, their personalities and while they become more human in your eyes, their images are still blurry in your mind’s eye; you are not yet foolish enough to get close enough to get a good look at their faces. You are not yet foolish enough to delude yourself into thinking of them as friends. 

One evening, at the camp you hear the scantily clad woman— Kainé, very, very loudly announce that she is going ‘to go take a piss.’ The talking book— Weiss, complains loudly about her crudeness, disgusted, as he always is, with her choice of language. She scoffs, dismissing him with a wave before walking away. 

Walking toward you.

You scamper away, running toward a large, nearby bush and hiding within. She shouldn’t see you, or at least you hope she won’t. She approaches another bush and you look away, respecting her privacy as much as you can.

“Come out, I know you’re there.”

Her voice is a low growl, and you think she can’t possibly be talking to you. While your observations have led you to believe that there is a soft core to her brash outer exterior, there is little doubt in your mind that, much like the monster of a man, Kainé would slaughter you on sight. 

“Hurry up, I don’t have all fuckin’ night.” She stomps over to your bush, and you’re sure she can’t see you, but still she leans in and whispers, her voice both seductive and violent, “Or if you want, I can just end your miserable existence right damn here.”

Instinct takes over and you run out of the bush, away from her. 

“There you are, you little fucker,” she snorts. You back away slowly, as she straightens herself out. Kainé eyes you like a bug, one that she is about to crush beneath the heel of her shoe. You swallow thickly, unsure if you should try to run or not. The only thing you are sure of is that if you do run, you’re dead. 

“So, why’ve you been following us, huh?” Kainé demands, arms crossed over her chest, frowning. She must know that she could kill you in an instant, must know that you couldn’t lay a finger on her if you tried to attack her. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed a fucking shade like you lurking around us for weeks.”

Shade. That’s what they call you and your people. Shades— condemned to the shadows, unable to live peacefully with the humans, or, as the elders called them, the replicants… whatever that meant. You eye Kainé warily, wondering why she is asking you a question when it is known that humans can’t communicate with shades, can’t converse with them— if they could, then maybe the monster of a man would just be a man, his beautiful hands devoid of the blood of your friends, your neighbors… your mother. 

“Hey!” Kainé shouts. “I’m talking to you, the least you can do is answer.”

She’s right. Even if she can’t understand, she probably can hear the words from your Shade mouth. You take a deep breath and speak for what feels like the first time in an eternity. “...it’s because of… him.”

Your voice sounds so strange in your ears, a sound more foreign than silence itself. Kainé stares at you, scowling like she knows, like she can understand the Shade tongue with which you speak. It’s hard to tell, and you take one, two, three steps closer to look in her eyes, risking your life more and more with each forward step that you take. You’ve read that the eyes are the window to the soul, so maybe if you can see them clearly, you’ll be able to tell, to know, if she really, really understands.

Fortunately for you, Kainé doesn’t move, nor does she speak, but still you hear a voice— not hers, erupt in a manic fit of laughter from her body. Her scowl deepens, clearly annoyed, but it seems that it’s not directed at you. 

“How cute, the little shade has a crush!” the voice howls, mocking you.

Your face scrunches in bewilderment. The source of the voice… is Kainé herself, but she is clearly not speaking…  You shake your head. No, that’s not right. This isn’t a crush, this isn’t infatuation, it’s merely curiosity. “No… that’s not… that’s right. I’m just… I just…”

The laughter grows louder, more derisive, “Oh don’t fucking delude yourself. You’ve been stalking after us for how long? It’s frankly kinda gross if you ask me!”

Kainé mutters something under her breath that you can’t hear, presumably at the mysterious voice making a mockery of you. 

Your stomach churns violently, a grotesque concoction of fear and unease. He’s not wrong though. It is kind of gross how you’ve been following this group around like a pathetic puppy. Watching them at a distance, wanting to get closer, to satiate your curiosity, yet staying far away because that’s the only way you can coexist with the monster and his friends. 

You think of the monster, terrible and cruel in his extermination of your people, the Shades. You think of the man, gentle and kind as he tends to the flowers by his house. The images in your mind overlap. Terrible and gentle. Kind and cruel. The images blur. 

You can only see the smile he’s offered to his friends. 

It’s all you have left now, and you don’t know what to do with yourself.

You are not one of his friends, the image of his smile is something you’ve stolen, held in the shadows, kept like a treasure— a secret that should have never been yours.

In fact, it never was.

“Hey Kainé?” A third voice enters the fray and you feel as if you have been drenched in ice water, thrust into the icy depths of the ocean, your entire body freezing over. “You’ve been taking a while, Emil and I were—”

He stops short. You know it’s because he sees you. 

Don't go near it.

Don't, if you value your life.

Everything happens so fast, before you can run, before you can even blink. The spear that was affixed to his back is now in his hands, its tip embedded deep into your abdomen. The pain is mind shattering as it spreads throughout your body, like a wildfire in a forest. 

The monster is close, closer than he has ever been, than he ever will be, the view of his face clear, and unmarred by distance. He is devoid of expression as he draws even closer, plunging the spear impossibly deeper into your fracturing body. Rather than the pain, you focus what attention you have left on his face. 

It’s what you wanted, to get a better look at his face before meeting your inevitable end. 

But now that you’re here, you realize, regretfully, that you maybe want a little bit more. 

You want to live in another land, another time, another place, where you’re not just a Shade and you can have a happy ending. 

With what sense you have left, you focus on his eyes. They’re clear, and blue as the sky on a cloudless day. As your consciousness ebbs away, fading rapidly from existence, you distantly think that at least the last thing you get to see is breathtakingly beautiful. It would have been nice, if you had had longer to enjoy it.

You have nothing left.

You are nothing but a bloodstain on the monster’s spear.