#i might be opening commissions in a bit here (long story short between jobs + need 2 pay for car repairs)

[corvidus-fr]

long time no art! here's a bust of one of my favourite dragons, Captain Bluebelly of the pirate ship Tidefang

[nite-shay]

My Neighbor: Hawks - (Takami Keigo / Hawks x Reader

Funny Idea: Your neighbor is hawks. 

Winged hero: Hawks. One of the fastest and youngest heroes pro heroes. Number 2 in hero ranks and number 1 in most eligible bachelors in all of Japan. 

And drum roll, please! *Drummy sounds* Tada! He is your neighbor! Shocking, I know, right? The title totally doesn't give it away! Nope, not at all!

Anyways, you might be wondering, 'Nite! How did that happen?'

Well.. ya see... that funny story…

Also, sorry for any typo :) 

Enjoy!

Notes: reader is 20+. No warning. Mild rating.

****

"Please be fixed. Please be fixed. "You quietly prayed as you hesitantly reached for the handle that leads to the lobby of your apartment building. 

The leasing office sent out a mass email earlier, letting all the tenants know that the central air was 'currently out of order' and they are 'working quickly to resolve the issue.' At least they were 'extremely sorry for any inconvenience this may cause and appreciate the patience of all tenants.' 

They also explained how per the lease agreements, no discounts would be provided for maintenance issues and that the full rent would still be due. 

I really need to move…

It just had to go out right smack dab in the middle of summer. And on one of the hottest days on record, no less!

You took a deep breath and pushed open the door into what could only be described as a magma cavern. Nope, you weren't on a tropical island; this was just the lobby. Damn, if it was this hot here, you can't imagine what your apartment must feel like.

You trudged your way through the muggy lobby grabbing your mail on your way over to the stairwell. By the time you made up to the very top floor, you were out of breath and drenched in sweat. Honestly, it looked like you just took a dip in a pool. Your clothes clung to every part of your sticky, overheating body. Hell, you were just happy you didn't have a heat stroke by the time you reached your front door.  

You prayed your apartment would be cooler.

It wasn't!

It was giving the stairwell a run for its money. 

Oh, hell no... NOPE! Not dealing with this.

You marched through the doorway, making sure to lock the door behind you, not like it would make much of a difference. You didn't see or hear anyone on the trip up or in the hallways. No doubt the other residences did the smart thing and retreated for someplace much cooler. You tossed the stack of mail on your end table without checking it. You'd deal with it later. More than likely, the postal carrier had mixed them up again with the tenant next door.... again...

Later problem for later me! Cool now!

You barely made it to your living room before you started peeling your sweat-soaked clothes off. Thankfully you lived alone, so you didn't have to worry about shocking anyone as you made your way to your bedroom. Tossed your clothes in the hamper before slipping into the thinnest shorts and tank top you could find. You would have said to hell with clothes in general at this point, but if you were going to cool this place off, you need to get some airflow in this place asap. That means windows and doors need to be open. 

And for the next hour, that's what you did. Every window you had was open as far as they would go, along with the sliding glass door that led to your balcony. The breeze that flowed through your home was still hot and muggy, but it was then nothing. You also gather any and every fan you had, even the pitiful little desk fan that sounded like it was on its last leg. If it ocellated or moved air in any way, shape, or form, that bitch was on high!

It took a little bit, but it felt like you could breathe as the temperature started to drop. Of course, by then, you were on the verge of dehydration and also contemplated, more than once, curling up in your fridge until that accursed flaming ball of gas in the sky went down.  

But you had food in there, and you can't waste food. Damn it.

Speaking of food...

You enjoyed a large bowl of ice cream and about three glasses of water. You reveled in the coolness of the sweet treat in your stomach, which gave you motivation for your next venture.

 A nice cool shower. 

You let the cool water flow over your whole body for what seemed like forever. Letting it wash away the stress, heat, and sweat of the day right down the drain. By the time you were done, your fingers were pruney, and the sun had descended entirely.

Damn, you were tired.

You lazily dried yourself and considered just going to bed as you were. You were on the 15th floor of your apartment building, so it wasn't like you had to worry about anyone peeking in your window. But you still didn't feel comfortable sleeping naked with your windows opened, and you really didn't want to close them. 

After a short debate, you settled on a thin tank, and underwear was a good compromise. 

Your body felt sluggish as you made your track to your bedroom. It was still relatively early, but between your job and the heat, you were completely and utterly wiped. 

Bed... Sleep... 

You showed your bed no mercy as you tore the covers off the nicely made bed and tossed them across the room. Then with no grace whatsoever, you let yourself collapse into the cool embrace of your mattress. Between the comfort of your bed and the white-nose of the fans, it didn't take long for drifted off to sleep. 

***Later that night

The summer night air was hot and humid as the Wing hero: Hawks, flew high above the city. Even at the higher altitude, the air was so thick, it felt like he was swimming in a dense swamp rather than soaring through the sky. His whole body felt sore and heavy, so much so that he was actually an effort to keep himself afloat. 

Damn, that villain really did a number on me. One more hit, and my goose would have been cooked.

The shift today had been long and hard, thanks to a tough group of villains that left him banged up and exhausted. He ended up having to get patched up at a hospital. The doc that ended up putting him back together tried to get him to stay, but he managed to talk him into agreeing on releasing him. Though, he would have flown the coupe either way. He couldn't stand hospitals or clinics. Not that there was anything wrong with those places. They just reminded him too much of the commission. Orderly. Sterile. Functional. 

Which is nice for a hospital, not for life. He has almost 20 years of experience with it to make him an expert on that subject. 

Shit got old quick….

Though honestly, it wasn't like his place was much better. It was a simple bed, one bath apartment. Top floor, of course, with a balcony that looked over the inconspicuous neighborhood it was built in. Now being the number two hero, you'd think he makes enough to live somewhere a bit more… well, expensive. But while he did live the high life, it was nice to have a place he could go and just be Keigo, not Hawks.

And speaking of, he could see his balcony coming into view. 

He swooped down over the rallying, stumbling a bit in the landing. It was pitch black, and his eyes felt as heavy as his body. Thankfully, though, he didn't fallout then there. Camping wasn't his thing, and while the balcony was rather spacious, his bed sounded much more comfortable. 

Ahh, home sweet home. 

That's weird. Did I forget to lock the door again?

He shrugged, not giving it much thought. He'd been in a hurry this morning, getting called in for an emergency issue downtown. And it wasn't like the first time he'd forgotten to lock the door behind him. Plus, he lived on the top floor; it's not like he had to worry about people just walking in off the streets. 

Lot easier targets than his humble abode. 

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Damn, it was hot. He must have forgotten to turn the AC on this morning. The apartment was hot and muggy, but he honestly couldn't have cared less. An oven sounded like a good place to take a nap at this point. His body started moving on its own towards the bedroom, stripping out of his hero costume along the way.

Bed. Sleep. Bed. Sleep. Bed. Sleep.

His mind chanted over and over, clothes would be tomorrow's problem. He didn't even bother turning on any lights as he maneuvered through the living room and down the hallway. He'd lived there for over a year, so he knew the layout like the back of his hand.

By the time he made it to his bed, he was down to only his boxers. He was about to pull those down, too, but the moment his legs came in contact with the mattress, it was like whatever energy was left was drained out of him.

He sighed and let his body fall forward across the bed that would give him the sweet relief he so desperately needed. 

Thump!

Huh? Why did his mattress feel all lumpy?

A loud shriek jolted him back to life long enough to realize that he was not alone. That the lumps in his bed weren't his covers, but a body. 

There was a person in bed.

He shifted his weight, forcing himself up as the body under him started to trash and yell.

"Huh? What are you doing in my-" He managed to murmur out before a sharp pain to the side of his head finally did him in, and his mind gave in to the darkness of unconsciousness. 

********

Your dreams were a God sent.

You were in a winter wonderland. Cool snowflakes danced all around. A cool breeze would blow every now again. It was like you could hear the clinking sound of ice hitting the window. Oh, what was that? The sound of heavy snow falling from the tree limbs? How wonderful!

So wonderful. So peaceful. So cool.  

But everything changed when you were jolted awake by something pinning you to your bed. Whatever it was, was large, heavy, and sweaty. 

You shrieked as you realized it was a person! There was a person on top of you! You trashed about trying to push the weight off of you, but you couldn't seem to get them off you. You screamed louder and struggled harder until their weight shifted.

"Huh?" The voice above you was drowsy sounding definitely that of an adult male. Your panic doubled as he shifted again, giving you a little more wiggle room. You still couldn't get free, but you took the opportunity to reach for something, anything to defend yourself with. Like hell, you were going down without a fight! Finally, you managed to wrap your fingers around something large on your bedside table. "What are you doing in my-?" You didn't let your attacker finish as you bashed the lamp into the side of his head.

He let out a loud 'off' as he rolled off the bed, giving you enough time to scrabble to the opposite side of the bedroom, hitting the lights. 

Were those....wings? 

Peaking over the side of the bed was, in fact, crimson feathers.

Who or what the fuck is that?

*******

Hawk's head pounded as he slowly stirred.

Shit, did he get drunk last night?

Slowly he opened his eyes, wincing from the light flooding the room along the memories of the night before. That's weird; he didn't remember turning on any lights.

Was it morning already?

He went to stretch his sore, aching body but quickly realized he couldn't.

He glanced down at himself and saw that yeap he was in his boxers and tied- wait.... were those power cord and... belts?

He blinked. What the hell? His upper body was bound in what looked to be a mix of various power cords and belts. Did someone break into his place and attack him? 

Who in their right mind would break into his house? He was a hero! One of the top in the country! 

He sighed as he tested the 'ropes.' Well, if this was a robbery, it was poorly planned, to put it mildly. The assailant left his wings completely free, and the binding was so poorly tied that he could slip right, with little effort. 

A squeak of a floorboard caused his head to jerk up and glare at his attacker. A person carefully stepped into his view. And well, of all the things he'd been prepared for... you weren't it. And certainly not you, in nothing but your underwear, a tank top, and wielding a lamp like it was a baseball bat. 

Well... this is... unexpected.

He could only stare at you in confusion that years of training couldn't even stop. Huh? You didn't look like a villain, much less a burglar. Honestly, you didn't look like a fighter at all. 

If you weren't a villain, then...

He mentally groaned. 

Great. You were a fan... and a crazy one at that. 

Over his career, he's had a few run-ins with crazy or obsessed fans of his. He couldn't count the number of times he's had to change his phone number or move his safe house. Even with the commission on his side, his info still got out! 

Maybe they should start hiring them instead... 

Well... at least you were easy on the eyes. He thought as he gave you a once over. Your hair was a mess, and was that a bit of drool on your chin? 

Yeap, just another crazy yet fairly active fan.

"Hey there." He greeted you with a warm smile, causing you to jump. He needed to play this out some. Escaping wouldn't be a problem, and he already had a few feathers at the ready in case you tried something. But he was hoping it wouldn't come to that. As irritated as he was at you, he didn't want to hurt you. You weren't a villain, just... confused. "It's not every day, I wake up to beauty like you. How about you untie me so I can introduce myself properly."

He gave you a charming smile as he watched your face go from nervous to confused and then to anger.

"L-Like, hell, I'm telling you my name after what you did!" You took a step forward and raise your weapon up slightly higher, ready to strike. "And don't flirt with me, you creep!" 

Hmm, that usually works.

"My bad. I didn't mean to offend you. If you untie me, I'm sure I can figure out a few ways to make up for it." He winked, keeping his smile friendly and inviting. He needed to figure a way out of this that didn’t involve him hurting you or land him on every news station in the country. 

*****

"You're seriously fucked up in the head, you know that! I am not untying you!" You yelled as a blush slowly crept over your cheeks. You were shocked at the stones this guy had! He broke into your home and attacked you while you were asleep. And now he was flirting with you?! Like this, a date or something! 

Something in his eyes flashes for a split second, and you saw one of his wings twitch. 

Why did he keep looking at you like that?

"D-Don't try anything! The police are on their way!" At least you hoped they were. You hadn't been able to call them, cause stupid you forgot to put your phone to charge when you got home. It was completely dead. You could only hope one of your neighbors who stayed had neared the commotion and called for help. 

"Police?" His golden bird-like eyes went wide for a moment. Did he really think you wouldn't call for help?

"Yes, the police! You broke into my home and attacked me in my sleep! What did you just expect me to call for a parade?!"

"Wait…" You could see the gears turning in his head as he glanced around your room. His eyes suddenly went wide.

"So… you're not one of my fans?"

"Fan? WHY THE HELL WOULD I BE A FAN OF A PSYCHO LIKE YOU!?!"

"Wait! This is just a misunderstanding!"

"How the hell is breaking into someone's home, attacking them in their bed in the middle of the night a 'misunderstanding'?"

"Look, all I remember is flying home. Walking through my…" The man trailed off. "Wait, what address is this?"

"Like I'd give my address to a villain?" You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

"I'm already here like it's really going to make a difference?" He growled before giving you a glare. You watched as his wings poofed up a bit. "Also, watch the insults. I'm a hero, not a villain."

"Likely story." You deadpanned. "You could at least come up with something more believable than that..."

"W-wait... You don't recognize me?" You gave him a once over. "Take a really good look at me." His wings stretched out a bit. "Anything thing ring a bell?" You just stared at him blankly. Granted, he was good looking, and if he wasn't a criminal, he could easily be on the cover of a magazine. "Seriously?"

"Pretty convenient of you to pick the home of someone who doesn't follow heroes, huh?"

"More like, inconvenient. If you did, you'd recognize me in a heartbeat." He sighed. "Look, just check my pants pocket. You'll find my credentials." 

"How do I know this isn't just a trick? Or maybe they're fake." 

"It's not a trick! Look, if you're that worried, just get your phone and google me. I'm the wing hero: Hawks." Huh? Why would he suggest that? He wouldn't know about your phone... so why would he tell you to get it? You could call for help. That should be the last thing he wants. You pondered for a moment. 

****

"Fine, I'll check. But this better not be a trick," You paused. "cause if it is, I got another lamp with your name on it!" He watched as you gradually made your way towards his discarded clothes. While you searched for his wallet, he glanced over to the shattered remains of what he assumed was your first weapon. 

Well, that explains the small blood trail on the side of his head and his headache. 

Finally, after what felt like forever, you found it. You made your way back to him as he watches you juggle, keeping your on him, holding the lamp, and reading his ID. 

"Hero license, Hero: Hawks, Name: Takami Keigo." You mumbled as your eyes darted between the ID's picture and himself. He could still see the doubt in your eyes. Damn, if this didn't work, he was going to have to free himself. Hopefully, he'd be quick enough to do that and subdue you without hurting you much. "Wait… Takami… Keigo.." Your eyes went wide, and he had to admit, his name sounded a little too good coming from you. "Wait! That's the name on the mail that keeps getting put in my box!" A look of realization and shock washes over you. "You're my neighbor!"

"Ah, so you're the one that's been slipping my mail under my door!" He couldn't help but smile and sigh internally. Finally, somethings going right! " Nice to finally meet you! Sorry I haven't had a chance to introduce myself before now. Work keeps me pretty busy."

"You're a hero… and you're my neighbor…." Your eyes were wide as you stared at him. 

"Looks that way."

"THEN WHY THE FUCK DID YOU BREAK INTO MY HOME!"

"It was an accident! I swear! I was exhausted and just flew to the wrong balcony. Honest. The glass door was open, and I didn't even realize I was in the wrong place." He tried to reason with you.

"Didn't you think it was a little strange that the furniture wasn't yours, or how about the fact that I was IN the bed?"

"Like I said, I was exhausted." He just shrugged before mumbling. "And well, let's just say you wouldn't be the first time a fan found where I lived and tried to surprise me in bed."

".... so you thought I was some psycho who broke into your home just to try and sleep with you…" You glared at him, clearly annoyed. "You realize I'm still holding a weapon right now, and remember..." You gestured with the lamp. "I gotta pretty mean swing..."

"Easy there, Chickadee. I'm joking. And I wouldn't call you psycho just... A little touched in the head." That earned him a glare that made him chuckle. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

"You like pissing people off, don't you?"

"I've been known to ruffle some feathers from time to time." 

"Look," You sighed as you tried to process everything that just happened. "This is just... too much..." You sat the lamp down finally. "Damn, I'm sorry."

"No worries. This one on me." He made a move to stand. 

"Oh, here, let me..."

"All good, I got it." He stood up, letting the restraints fall off of him like they weren't even there, let alone tied. 

"H-how did y-you?" 

"Oh, yeah. Word of advice, ya might wanna work on knots." He chuckled as he stretched.

"Y-You could have gotten free at any time… why didn't you?"

"Like I said, I'm a hero." He walked forward while you moved to the side, eyes still wide-eyed." If I'd freed myself before you realized who I was, you would have freaked out. Honestly, the last thing I want is for you to get hurt or you to go screaming down the hallway in your underwear." He informed you as your face turned beet red, and you then tried to pull your shirt down. He laughed at the poor attempt to hide. "Well then, gotta say this would make a hell of a story, but I'd really appreciate it if we kept this between us." He could help but tease you more. You looked so damn cute when you're flustered. "Not to brag or anything, but I'm a pretty well-known hero and have a reputation to uphold." He sent out a few of his feathers to help gather his gear while he talked to you. You were so entranced watching his feathers work that he had to repeat himself again.

"I-I-I… Yes!" Your eye finally snapped back into focus on him. "Of course! Just between us!"

"Great! Glad that's settled." He took a step towards you and held out his hand. You finally got the message and handed his wallet back to him. "My superiors and PR would have my tail feathers if this got out." He ginned. "Well, would you look at the time!" He grinned while making his way to the sliding glass door and out to the balcony, his floating clothes trailing behind him. "Best be on my way. I have an early shift in the morning. Sweet dream angle." And with that, he stepped out to the balcony and fluttered over to his.

Damn, what a night!

*****

Extra:

The next morning.

You woke up late, groggy and sweaty. The AC was still out, and your apartment was slowly heating up. 

With a heavy sigh, you forced yourself out of bed, put on shorts, and headed to the kitchen.

Last night was a hell of a night. 

Your neighbor is a hero... 

What are the odds of that?

You reached up into your cabinet and pulled down your favorite cereal.

Whatever, he can't be that good if he made that big of a mistake, right?

You quickly made your breakfast and headed for your balcony. There was a slight breeze blowing that morning, making it almost bearable outside.

Almost...

Huh? What's that?

There was a large brown bag sitting on your patio table.

That wasn't there before...

You sat your bowl down and picked it up. Whatever it was, it was a decent size and heavy. You opened the bag, and the first thing you found was a note.

'Sorry again about last night. Here's a little gift for you to make up for it. 

Bet you could do some real damage with this one. Batter up, chickadee!

Your neighbor,

-Hawks'

You reached further into the bag and pulled out... a lamp?

It was made out of wood and metal, making the damn thing large and pretty heavy. It was well made and couldn't have been cheap! You pulled it further out of the back, and when you saw the shape of the body, you couldn't help it: you busted out laughing. The damn thing was in the shape of a roaster!

Your neighbor... is a hero... and a strange one at that...

********

Thanks for the read! If you want see the other stuff I’ve done, click the link bellow!

MasterList

[frostsinth]

A yummy pinup of Yared, trying to snake his way out of trouble he probably got himself into, and part 1 of 2 is below for the very sweet @justasoftboi who requested a continuation of the story of these two. This was supposed to be flat colors, but those coils just needed a little something extra to show them off. I hope this is what you were looking for! 

@justasoftboi was the first place winner of my Monster Match Raffle! If you are interested in commissioning me for your own monster piece, DM me for details. Check out my MasterList for more monster romances, and feel free to BuyMeACoffee while you are there!

All the best!

: PART ONE :

I sighed, rubbing at the back of my neck. “I don’t know, Raz... “

She somehow managed to make her eyes even bigger, and clasped her hands before her. Shaking them slightly for emphasis. “Come on, please? I know it sounds a little crazy-”

“It sounds insane.” I admonished her.

“You know how parents are!” She continued, “And mine are the worst! It’s just one night, and then they’ll be gone. Please?”

I groaned, feeling my resolve weakening. “Why me?” I asked, shifting my satchel on my shoulder. “Why not Hassan or Ondre? You know half the guys in this village would jump at the chance to be your boyfriend.”

She threw up her hands. “That’s exactly why I can’t ask any of them,” she replied, letting her hands settle on her hips from their descent, “I don’t want to send any mixed messages. You’re the only one that I know won’t do anything crazy.”

My lips twitched, and I almost laughed at that. “Well, you make a good point there.”

“Please?” She begged again, “I-I’ll take your shifts for a week! I’ll cover for you whenever you ask! I’m desperate, Kyros. I’m literally offering you my soul.”

I sighed again, shifting and considering her. “...Ugh, fine, fine.”

“YES!” She leapt into the air, punching it triumphantly.

“One night!” I told her firmly. “One night. One dinner. That’s it. And you’ll not only cover my shifts, you’ll bake me three dozen of your famous lemon squares.” I could think of one particular person who would particularly love that part of the deal. I almost smiled at the thought of his delight once he got a taste of them.

“Done and done!” She squealed, then lunged at me, standing on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around my neck and hug me tightly. “Kyros, you’re a life saver! I could kiss you!”

I untangled her, laughing lightly. “Let’s not and say we didn’t.” I returned quietly, shaking my head and wondering just what the hell I had gotten myself into.

She echoed my laugh, squeezing my hands in hers. “I’ll pick you up after sundown. Wear something clean, yeah?”

“I know how to meet my partner’s parents,” I scolded her, giving her an overly exaggerated frown which was quickly replaced by a smirk, “Don’t worry, I’ll kill it. You’ll regret having asked me later, because they won’t stop pestering you about what a great guy I am.”

Her grin was infectious and she patted my cheek fondly. “You’re the best boyfriend ever. I am very lucky.”

“Yeah yeah.” I said, taking her hand away and giving it a gentle squeeze. “See you in a while, Raz.”

“It’s a date!”

I waved her back off across the clearing, waiting until she was nearly out of sight to turn and duck between the trunks and vegetation at the jungle’s edge. My pulse was already thrumming as I made my way deeper into the thick throng of massive trees, my feet following a well worn and familiar path. I knew it would be hard, only having a few hours with Yared before I had to go meet up with Raz. It was hard ever leaving his side, almost torturous to have to do so. I longed for a day that maybe I didn’t have to go back to the tiny village on the riverside. It had only been a few months, yet I already couldn’t stand to be away from the snake longer than I had to be. What had he called himself? A Zmia? I smiled at the memory of late nights exchanging cultural bits and pieces. Those few months prior, the reptilian people of the jungle beyond my village were a silent menace; a distant warning against wandering alone. Though to me they had been more like a legend. Had I gone back in time and told myself I would be falling head over heels for a half man, half snake, I would have laughed myself to death and back. Now though, I couldn’t see him enough. Couldn’t keep my hands off him. Couldn’t imagine my life without him.

 And even when I was forced away from his company, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. More than once I had zoned out at work, nearly losing a hand in the process. I was already in hot water with my boss, having skirted so many jobs just to spend more time with him. I almost winced at the memory of his ire.

I remembered my first job at the river side logger, back when I had first moved here nearly a year ago. A new life. A fresh start. Far away from my own judgmental and bossy parents. I had scoffed at the warnings of the locals, and decided a stroll through the beautiful lush jungle was exactly what I needed to take my mind off of fresh calluses and sore muscles. How it quickly became my routine to take off into the deep vegetation whenever I got a moment to myself. Away from prying eyes and unspoken questions. After all, by most standards I was a handsome, hardworking, and available young man who, as of yet, had shown no interest in the local beauties. I meant to keep to myself, but the desire to just be alone made me an enigma to the locals. Many of whom had never left the riverside village. To them, I was the exotic. Even though the village itself was only a few generations old.

Raz had been my first friend, and so far remained my only. I suspected she had her own reasons, but she had never shown any remote interest in me. Had never done anything to make me feel uncomfortable, or put me on the spot regarding my preference in partners. And she had kept my secret faithfully when I had eventually opened up to her one drunken night. Not that it was outright forbidden or taboo; I just honestly didn’t feel like it was anyone’s business. Nor did I want to be some hot piece of gossip in a sparingly un-diverse town. So it was the least I could do to help her out of her own tricky situation. Though hopefully my situation would be only temporary.

When I had met Yared… life had become instantly better. He had slithered into my life so nonchalantly, and now I had everything I ever wanted. Well, almost everything. It would be nice not to have to leave him every few hours to maintain my presence in the town. The villagers were still deeply suspicious of their reptilian neighbors, and both parties preferred to keep to themselves. Which left little more than whispers of rumored sightings between the two. I grinned, thinking that maybe Yared and I might pave a whole new path for our two worlds. It was weird to think we might be setting a standard for future relations between our people. Assuming I could get through tonight, that was. I didn’t imagine the Zmia would be too pleased that I wouldn’t be able to spend that long with him. Especially after his promises from the morning. He could be a little selfish at times, though I wondered how much of that was a product of his culture. His people didn’t tend to live in villages or communities, so a life of solitude might certainly warrant a sense of one’s own self interests being the most important. I wondered if that was also a reflection of why he treated me how he did. I found I loved how clingy he was, how much he relished my time and company. How he lived for my attention and praise. I almost chuckled. No, he certainly wouldn’t be content with such a short visit.

But it would be worth it, I reasoned. Because with Raz covering my shifts for the next week or two, maybe I could spend the night with him. Or maybe a few nights… My stomach skittered with excitement at the thought, and I felt a flush at my collar.

I heard his coils moving along the forest floor before I saw him, and a grin was already lighting my face as I turned to greet him. Briefly I wondered what he was doing so far from his cave, but was just so happy to be able to see him again, I hardly cared. 

His long black tail was woven amid the tree he had just slithered out of, and again I marveled at him. Rose grey skin, raven black hair, scarlet red eyes. I loved the way his cream scales crept up his stomach from his serpent lower half, reaching all the way to the underside of his chin. He lowered himself to my level as I stepped over, and I trailed my fingers fondly over that soft underbelly of his. The scales were cool to the touch, as was his skin as I traced my hand over his abdomen along his ribs to rest my palm at his waist.

Slowly he slithered in a circle around me, and I pivoted in place as his long tail writhed, curling about us. I smiled again, feeling my skin zip with electricity. But when I looked up to meet his gaze, there was a slight frown on his thin lips. Not overly surprising in and of itself; Yared had a demeanor as cold as his temperature sometimes. Yet this time, I didn’t like the way those lips pinched together slightly at the center.

“You ok?” I asked, my voice laced with concern.

He titled his head to the side, distractedly tracing his fingertips lightly down my arm. Usually he would have completely enveloped me in his embrace by now, eager to steal my warmth. I found a frown forming on my own lips.

“...What is a ‘boyfriend’?” He asked, his voice a little tight.

I was surprised at the question and felt my heart skip a few beats. “Ah… that’s..” A flush rose to my cheeks, and I rubbed at the back of my neck. “When you’re courting someone, they are your boyfriend… or girlfriend, if they are a girl.” I considered him from the corner of my eye. “Where did you-”

“And a ‘date’?”

A tickle of realization hit me, spreading across my face. “Were you watching me?”

His frown deepened into a scowl. “What is a ‘date’?” He pressed.

“It’s… like… the time spent with the person you're courting. Like, if you go out to eat, or do some sort of activity together.” I struggled to find the right words, hoping my explanation would make sense.

“Why?”

“What?”

He scowled more, and I felt his tail curling tighter around us. “Why have these things?”

I sighed, a little confused and exasperated. Though not overly put off by his blunt manners as they were rather commonplace. “Well, to get to know each other. To see if the two of you could be life time partners.”

“To see if you would be compatible as mates.” He offered coldly.

“Exactly!” I smiled up at him, reaching out with my free hand to run it over his tail. It was more like a dark chocolate brown, I decided, not black. I could see the color more vividly here in the sunlight that broke through the canopy of emerald leaves overhead.

“Do humans have multiple mates?”

I looked up at him, surprised. His scaly brow was knotted over his long slender nose, and his fangs flashed as his tongue darted out into the afternoon air.

“I suppose some do-”

“Zmia do not.” He hissed.

I realized then he was angry, his sharp pupils thin, his posture tense. His tongue flicked back out, and he bared his fangs at me again.

“Yared-”

“Perhaps I should have mentioned before.” He cut me off before I could say more. “But I didn’t think I needed to.” His eyes narrowed. “I do not want to share you with anyone else. If you already have partners, I don’t think we should continue.”

A deadened feeling wrapped around my core, leaving me with a sinking feeling and a cold spot at the base of my neck. My mouth dropped open, and I couldn’t help but stare at him. He scowled back at me, seemingly unperturbed by my shock. My hand dropped away from him.

“You… I-I mean…” I shook my head, swallowing the painful lump that strangled my throat. “... If that’s what you want… did-” I caught myself, biting my tongue. But I decided I had to know. “Did I do something wrong?”

His ears twitched, and I saw the tip of his tail flick. “Perhaps not by human standards. It was unfair of me to assume you wished to be exclusive as my mate-” He seemed to choke on the word, stopping sharply. I saw him adjust his jaw before continuing. “If you already have that female-”

“What female?” I cut him off sharply, suddenly remembering what he had said early. “Wait, Yared, are you talking about Raz? Were you watching us earlier? Is that what this is about?”

He crossed his muscular arms over his chest. “She seems fond of you.” He replied bitterly.

I shook my head incredulously. “Raz is just a friend!” I tried to tell him. “We’re not-”

“She called you her ‘boyfriend’.” He shot back. “You are having this ‘date’ you explained. Why else if not testing her as a potential mate?”

I threw up my hands, shaking my head again. “That’s not- She’s just asking me to do her a favor!” I reached up, trying to touch his face. He jerked away, and I felt a stabbing pain in my gut at the rejection. “We’re just pretending, because she told her parents she was seeing someone.”

“You are helping her deceive her parents?” His thunderstruck brow deepened, “That seems unreasonable. Why perpetrate this lie? Why must she have a mate?”

“I don’t know! I guess her parents have been pressuring her, so she just told them that to get them to leave her alone.” I resisted the urge to reach out to him again, taking a step back instead.

“She said she would kiss you.” He hissed, and his red eyes narrowed. “She squeezed you with her body. She must like you.”

I felt my own anger beginning to bubble in my stomach, a stinging wave of backlash from the anguish he had caused. I scowled right back at him, crossing my arms over my own chest.

“She’s just happy she doesn’t have to fess up to her parents. Raz is just a friend, Yared. Nothing more!”

He bared his fangs at me, and his whole long body inflated slightly with his hiss. “She didn’t look like that.”

“Even if she was interested in me - Which she’s not, by the way! - I’m not interested in her. Not even remotely,” I snapped, “And you should trust me enough to believe me when I say that.” I threw up my hands again. “And you should trust me enough to ask me before you start throwing around accusations-”

“Hardly an accusation if I saw it with my own eyes-”

“You saw me agree to do a friend a favor,” I snarled, “You assumed it was something worse. You didn’t even ASK me! Just jumped to conclusions!”

That seemed to silence him, if momentarily, and he stared at me with his scarlet red eyes. I shook my head a final time, spinning and clambering angrily over his long tail. As my feet found solid purchase again, free from his coils, I pulled my satchel around and started digging through it.

“...You are not interested in being her mate?” He asked, his voice still icy but softer.

“No!” I practically yelled, spinning to face him again. “There’s only one person I’m interested in being my “mate”, and he’s being an absolute ass right now.” I yanked the bakery parchment from my sack, tossing it at him. “HERE! Take your damn treats, you big, dumb snake!” Now I was shouting, and he barely caught the parcel I hurled at his chest with surprising force. “I hope you like them. Sorry for thinking of you every minute of every day. Sorry for just trying to buy a way to spend more time with you.” I clenched my jaw, swallowing back tears. “I hope you enjoy yourself as much as you look like you do, because you’ll have none of me!”

With that, I spun on my heel and stomped out of the woods. I didn’t look back. Couldn’t bear to. The sting of his words and mine still ringing in my ears. My hopes dashed on the jungle carpet... But I still had a date to prepare for.

...

UPDATE: Final part HERE

[squirmymochi]

Hello again! This story was commissioned by a lovely repeat customer and I got permission to post it for y’all to enjoy. Hope you like it!

***

“Chug! Chug! Chug!”

Connor chants along with the other boys as Jack downs the rest of his beer, his throat working up and down as he drinks. His sweat glistens slightly against his skin, catching the mid-morning light as he tips his head back to finish the last few drops before gasping in a breath of air and crushing the empty can in his hands.

“Yeah!” Will cheers from the passenger’s seat, laughing goofily. “Didn’t think you could actually do it!”

“Did he finish?” Henry asks, taking his eyes off the road for a couple of seconds to glance backwards at Jack. Connor doesn’t really mind--they haven’t seen another car in at least five minutes, and the expanse of road ahead of them is as straight as an arrow and smooth like glass.

The four of them are on a road trip, having finished their third year of college together a couple of short weeks ago, and in order to save money on gas they’d decided to pile into Henry’s old four-person car instead of taking two separate vehicles. It’s a little bit cramped, and very hot with their combined body temperatures warming up the small space, but luckily enough, Jack had the foresight to fill one of their mini coolers with sodas and beer, squeezing it between his and Connor’s feet in the backseat.

Connor’s pretty sure he’d have already died of heatstroke if it weren’t for Jack’s smart thinking. His smarts are one of the few things Connor admires about him--As the brain of the group, Jack always has the solution for any problem, and he’s kind enough not to judge, either. Before Connor came out to Henry and Will, the two of them had found a gay porn magazine stashed beneath his dorm room bed, and all it had taken was a panicked look towards Jack for his friend to jump to his defense with an excuse about art majors and the human figure.

Connor is pretty sure that’s the moment he fell for Jack. (Fell hard.)

Unfortunately, his crush (which has since spiraled into something much more) is just about the one problem Jack can’t fix for him. Connor’s three closest friends may know that he plays for the other team now, but that doesn’t mean they share the sentiment at all. He’s spent a lot of time trying to convince himself otherwise, but he always circles back around to Jack being straight.

That doesn’t mean he can’t admire his friend from afar, though, and admire he does. Like now, for instance, as Jack lets out a long sigh and wipes the sweat from his brow with the hand still holding his beer can, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “Damn, that was good,” he says, his voice low and smooth, turning to glance at Connor. “You’d better catch up, man. That was my second.”

“I’m almost done,” Connor retorts, lifting his own can to his lips. “Not everyone can swallow the whole can in one go.”

Jack lets out a huff of a laugh as Connor takes a few gulps of his second beer of the day, enjoying the crisp coldness of the drink as it trickles down his throat. “Weak,” Will jeers with a snort, turning back around in his seat to watch the open road. Connor narrows his eyes playfully at him, continuing to enjoy his beer.

“Hey, pass me a soda, would you?” Henry asks, taking one hand off the wheel and waving it in the direction of the cooler. “I don’t care what kind.”

“I got it,” Jack says, flipping the lid of the cooler and fishing out a can of ginger ale. “Must suck to have to stay sober this whole drive.”

“Whatever,” Will scoffs. “At least we won’t have to piss an hour more into the drive.”

“Caffeine is a diuretic, too, idiot,” Henry laughs, reaching back to take the offered can of soda. “But it doesn’t matter. We’ve got all the time in the world to get to the site. As long as we check in before dark, we can stop as many times as we want.”

Connor quietly takes another sip of his beer, sinking down in his seat an inch. He’s gotten pretty good at casually talking about needing to piss with his friends--they are boys in their early twenties, after all, it’s bound to come up occasionally--but it’s still weird for him to do knowing that he enjoys it more than the rest of them do. Having a piss holding fetish is probably his closest kept secret now that he’s out, and he’s sworn to himself that he’ll never tell another soul as long as he lives, but he still gets a little extra sweaty and nervous when one of his friends brings up their need.

Still, he can’t help but let his mind wander, watching as Jack fishes out another can of cheap, cold beer, leaving it unopened in his fist. How many beers is Jack going to have before he calls it done? How long will the other two wait before pulling off to a rest stop? The image of Jack squirming from side to side, shifting his hips and grinding down against the seat below him desperately, brings a whole new flush to Connor’s face, and he snaps his eyes forward automatically, as if he’s been caught.

“Better get drinking, Conn,” Will says with a grin, nodding towards Connor’s unfinished second beer. “Looks like Jack’s getting ready to down another one.”

“Since when is this a competition?” Connor retorts, though he automatically raises his can to his lips anyway. “Last I checked we were on our way to a campsite, not to die of alcohol poisoning.”

“Three or four beers won’t hurt you, anway,” Jack replies with a shrug, reaching up to press the still unopened can to his cheek. His skin squishes against it, and Connor can’t help but replace the can with a pillow, the sunlight from the window becoming early morning light in his imagination. God, he thinks, I need to get this whole crush situation under control.

“Ugh, my legs are totally numb,” Will complains, thunking his fist against his right leg for emphasis. “Henry, your car was not designed for people my size.”

“Jack is taller than you, and he’s not complaining,” Connor replies, almost too quickly. Jack flashes him a small smile, his face pink from the cold of his beer.

“Do you want to pull over for a little bit?” Henry asks. “I can keep an eye out for exits if you want to walk around for a little bit.”

“Ah, maybe in a few,” Will says. “We’re barely even halfway there, and it feels like we’ve been driving forever. Might as well tough it out for a little bit longer.”

“Might as well,” Jack agrees, stretching his long legs apart in the confined space of the backseat. His left leg rubs up against the cooler, pushing it into Connor’s leg.

“Hey, Connor, would you grab me a coke?” Will asks, reaching back blindly. “It’s too fucking hot out today.”

“Sure,” Connor agrees as he pulls the shiny red can out of the cooler. The ice water on his hand sends a shiver down his spine, but it isn’t unwelcome at all.

“Will, why don’t you put on some music?” Henry suggests as Will accepts the coke. “I bet everyone’s tired of hearing you talk, anyway.”

“Shut up, man, people love my voice!” Will replies with a laugh, smacking Henry’s arm with the back of his hand before reaching for the aux cord and plugging it into his phone.

Connor settles back with his beer, taking a couple of long swigs as the sound of Will’s music hums through the rest of the car. He can’t help but glance over at Jack, finding his friend once again staring out the window, golden light filtering through his hair and sparkling off his skin.

Jack turns, catching Connor in the act, and raises a brow at him questioningly. “You need something?” he asks, not in an unkind way.

“Ah, I was just…” Connor struggles to come up with an excuse, eyes darting around the car and landing on the unopened can of beer in Jack’s hand. “I was just wondering if you were gonna drink that,” he finishes weakly, eyes darting back up to Jack’s face.

“Hm? Oh.” Jack reaches down to crank the tab on the can, lifting it halfway to his lips. “I spaced out there for a second, totally forgot about it. But hey, wouldn’t want it to get all warm, right?”

“Right,” Connor agrees with a weak chuckle. Jack smiles warmly at him before lifting the can to his mouth, taking a few long pulls as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

Connor tears his eyes away, forcing himself to look out his own window at the flat expanse of land that passes by. No more staring for the rest of the trip, he decides, frowning at himself in the reflection of the glass. You’re giving too much away already. Just… be cool, alright?

You can definitely do that.

***

“Connor, you’re falling behind,” Jack says in between sips of his fourth (yes, fourth) beer. “You barely started your third, and I’m already almost done with this one!”

“You’re a lot bigger of a person than I am, jerk,” Connor retorts, taking in another mouthful of beer and swallowing it automatically. He’s not even thirsty anymore, but the alcohol seems to have done its job in loosening him up--he keeps laughing at nothing, and he’s somehow caught the competitive spirit that Will and Jack had slipped into since they started drinking.

“Excuses, excuses,” Jack chuckles, shaking his head with a smile. “Come on, I bet you can finish it all at once if you try hard enough.”

“I wouldn’t say try hard is in Connor’s vocabulary,” Will snorts.

“Hey!” Connor protests, moving his free hand to smack the back of Will’s car seat, giggling when Will throws a fake glare back at him. “I’ll finish it right now, just watch.”

“Before you do, is it alright if we pull over here?” Henry asks. “I gotta take a leak, and I don’t want you spilling all over my car when I’m driving. You’re loose enough already.”

Jack snorts, covering his hand with his mouth to hide his laughter, so Connor reaches out again to smack his arm away. “If you’re gonna laugh at me, at least do it where I can see it,” he says with a grin.

“Okay, we’re pulling over,” Henry decides as he changes lanes, drifting towards a small rest station off the side of the road. “I really don’t want to wait anymore, and my legs feel like shit, too.”

“Same here,” Will agrees, stretching his arms over his head. “How many hours we got left, anyway?”

“Three or four,” Henry says. “I’m glad we got the site so cheap, but couldn’t it have been closer to campus?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Jack replies with a shrug. Henry maneuvers the car down the narrow entrance road, scanning the area until he finds a free parking spot.

“Ah, finally!” Will sighs, hand on the door handle before Henry can even finish pulling in. “I feel like we’ve been in here forever. I should not have drank that much soda.”

“Are you two coming?” Henry asks, turning around in his seat. “Like I said, we’ve still got a while to go before we get there.”

Connor looks over at Jack uncertainly, then down at his own beer. He hasn’t been to the bathroom since he woke up this morning, and he does feel a bit of a need to go if he’s being honest. He likes holding, but he’s not sure if he would enjoy it around his three closest friends, even if they don’t know about his piss kink.

Before he can answer, Jack chooses for him. “I’ll stay here,” he decides, holding up his beer. “I wanna finish this one before you guys get back, and I have to see Connor chug that entire can. That is, if he can.”

“Of course I can!” Connor says automatically, lifting the almost full container in the air for emphasis. “I’ll prove it to you.”

“You two are crazy if you plan on going the whole ride without pissing,” Will says with a laugh. “But it’s your funeral.”

“We’ll be quick,” Henry promises, pulling himself out of the car and closing the door, leaving Connor alone with Jack.

“Well?” Jack prompts, tapping his beer against Connor’s where it hangs midair. “Bottom’s up! First to finish gets to pick the music for the next hour.”

“You’re on!” Connor laughs, lifting his can to his mouth and tipping his head back. The beer is cold and fresh on his tongue, and it pools in his mouth almost too fast for him to swallow. He drinks as fast as he can, ignoring the telling signals from his bladder and throwing his common sense out the window. He’s gotten pretty good at holding ever since he started exploring his kink, and he’s sure he’ll be able to last until the next rest stop, especially since Jack drank a whole can more than he did in the same amount of time. Surely it won’t be long until they pull off the highway once again.

And until they do, he gets to imagine Jack squirming around in his seat, trying to contain four cans of beer as subtly as he can, his face growing red from effort and embarrassment. And if that isn’t a good reason to pass up a bathroom break himself, he doesn’t know what is.

***

An hour later finds Connor shifting his weight from side to side in his seat, his hands pressed to the seat cushion on either side of his legs, trying as hard as he can to think about something other than the pressure between his hips. He knows from nights of careful research that it should take about two hours for a drink to go through him, which means everything after the second can of beer hasn’t even hit him yet, and it’s that thought that both scares him and turns him on a little.

He’s never held around his friends before, and he’s only ever held in public when he had sure access to a bathroom. It’s weird, knowing how bad he has to pee--maybe a six out of ten and quickly approaching an eight--and not knowing when he’ll be able to let it go.

On the other hand, he’s pretty sure that Jack is getting desperate too, and it’s honestly even hotter than he ever imagined it would be. Jack’s legs are spread open a little bit, completely still, and he’s slouching down in his seat, one hand tensed on his thigh, the other alternating between playing with his hair and drumming against the car door. He’s quiet--they all are at this point in the drive, letting the music Connor had selected earlier fill the empty space, but Jack is the kind of quiet that means he’s concentrating really hard on something.

Connor would bet good money that the thing he’s concentrating on is his full bladder.

Now that he thinks about it, he’s pretty sure that Jack hasn’t gone to the bathroom since they all woke up this morning, either. The four of them made their way down from the house they’d stayed over at together after getting ready for the day and eating a quick meal, and then they’d hit the road shortly after that. That means that Jack must be feeling as full as Connor is, if not more so.

He side-eyes his friend as Jack shifts in his seat, squirming ever so slightly, his hips lifting off the seat for just a second before landing again. He’s clearly trying to be subtle about it, but he’s not doing a very good job, at least from Connor’s perspective. He watches with interest as Jack continues to move around, first hooking one ankle under the other, then sitting straight up and shifting his weight to his right side, leaning heavily against the car door. At least he seems too distracted with his need to notice Connor watching him.

Surely he’ll ask to pull over at a rest stop soon, Connor thinks, glancing away from the show for a second to check for road signs. It’s been a while since the last rest stop was advertised, and they’d passed that one almost fifteen minutes ago, so there must be another one coming up soon.

He’s distracted by a soft grunt from his right--his eyes snap back to Jack, whose face is scrunched up in a grimace. His legs move to squeeze against one another as he hunches over slightly, the hand on his thigh twitching towards his crotch for just a second before settling back once again. He must be pretty full, Connor thinks, if he’s wanting to grab his dick already.

Once again, the thought of Jack squirming around with his hands clutching his penis makes its way into Connor’s head. He feels his face turn red and whips his head forward too quickly to escape notice, but he doesn’t dare turn back around. What would Jack say if he knew what Connor was thinking?

He keeps his eyes trained on the back of Henry’s seat, willing the blush off of his face, but when he feels a buzz in his pocket he has to clamp his legs together to avoid a leak. His bladder throbs inside of him, all but forgotten, and now it’s his turn to grimace as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

Strangely enough, it’s a text from Jack of all people. Connor recognizes the little profile picture he’d drawn for Jack--the one his friend had insisted on using--before he even reads the name. Nervously, he glances up at Jack and finds him gazing back already, eyes flickering down to the screen meaningfully.

Connor looks back down, taking a moment to un-glue his legs from each other before he opens the text. A simple U ok? stares back at him. Confused, he looks back up at Jack; his friend motions to his face in a general wave, then makes a “spooked” motion with his hands.

I’m good, Connor replies, then quickly types out the first excuse that comes to mind. Just kind of have to pee is all.

When he gets the courage to look up, Jack is already typing out an answer, and a few seconds later his phone vibrates again.

Dude, me too. I’ve had to go for ages

Why haven’t you said anything? Connor writes back. I’m sure they would have stopped for you.

Don’t say anything! Jack answers. We can’t let them know we have to piss. They’ll make so much fun of us for skipping the last break

Connor’s eyes go wide, and he almost answers out loud from surprise. What are we supposed to do, then? he asks, immediately looking over at Jack. His crush grimaces once again, hunching over in his seat and re-crossing his ankles.

We’ve just got to hold it until one of them decides to pull over on their own, he says, and Connor feels his heart stop in his chest. The others only went to the bathroom an hour ago, and they’ve still got two or three more to go until they make it to the campsite. Is Jack planning on holding it the whole time? He’s already moving around quite a bit, knocking his knees together and constantly changing positions, and his forehead is shiny with sweat that Connor’s sure isn’t just from the heat.

Are you sure you can wait that long? he asks, throwing caution to the wind. He can always play his own interest off for sympathy, and besides, Jack seems pretty open to talking about it.

Of course I can! Jack replies seconds later. Obviously I’d go if I could, but that doesn’t mean I can’t hold it.

Connor bites his lip, typing out the next message on his phone. You don’t seem so sure about that, he ends up saying, looking up just in time to catch Jack pressing the heel of his hand into his crotch. It’s not the frantic grabbing and squirming that Connor always ends up imagining, but it’s still beyond hot and it has him once again following his reckless side.

I’m 22, not some kid, Jack writes, throwing a hand out to lightly punch Connor in the side. I bet you’re just trying to get ME to ask them to pull over for you.

No way! Connor replies, forcing his legs apart further as if to prove his point. His bladder gives off a dull throb in protest, reminding him that now is no time to let pride get in the way, but the kinkier side of his brain has fully taken over at this point and there’s no stopping it now. I could hold it the whole way there if I needed to. Besides, you’re the one squirming around here!

The last part earns him another gentle jab in the side, but Connor still tenses as the flesh near his bladder is squished. Despite what he’d said, he isn’t completely sure that he’d be able to last all the way to the campsite. His six out of ten is quickly becoming a seven, and the third beer still hasn’t hit him. He’s glad for all those late-night holds when his roommates were out, but he knows no amount of practice can keep him from wetting himself ever again. Still, there’s no way he’ll be the one to cave in and ask for a bathroom, not when he can distract himself from his own desperation with Jack’s the whole way there.

His phone vibrates in his hand once again, and he draws his attention from his bladder to focus on the conversation instead. Jack has written I bet you wish you were squirming like me with a “;)” at the end of the sentence--the last part makes his mouth dry, which in turn gives him an idea.

I bet you can’t fit another drop in you, you’re so full, he writes, sending it before he even realizes how kinky it sounds. When he looks up to check, he’s met with an inquisitive stare, a raised eyebrow.

What are you getting at? Jack sends back a moment later. Connor tries not to grin as he gestures towards the cooler meaningfully, then makes a drinking motion with his hand. He tries not to get too excited at the momentary flicker of doubt in Jack’s eyes--maybe he really is too full to drink--but it’s gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

“Fine,” Jack mouths at him, his eyebrows drawing together as he flips the lid of the cooler, much to Connor’s surprise. He lets out a quiet hiss as his hand meets the frigid water and half-melted ice, but after a few seconds of fishing he manages to pull out a can of cola. Connor watches with delight as his friend cracks the top of the can and takes a few long drinks, shivering in between gulps of soda, his other hand clenched into a fist at his side.

Jack finishes drinking with a soft, heavy sigh, then turns his gaze to Connor, holding the cola can out to him. Connor frowns, confused, until Jack leans forward even more, swishing the remaining soda around inside the can. His eyebrows are raised once again, challenging Connor to say no.

Connor pretends to glare back, acting like this little dare of theirs isn’t one of the most exciting things that’s happened to him all week. He accepts the can, shivering both from the leftover droplets of ice water and from Jack’s hand brushing against his, lifting it to his lips and chugging the rest of the soda as quickly as he can. It feels like a little over half the can, but he doesn’t really mind--after all, Jack had drank an entire beer more than he had at first, and it can’t be that hard to convince him to down another.

He grits his teeth together as he drinks, pressing his thighs together and shifting around in his seat as the cold soda makes its way down his throat. Only two or three more hours, he reminds himself, and then I can pee. Maybe I’ll even be lucky enough to go right next to Jack. Wouldn’t that be a dream come true?

He looks back down at his phone, where a new text waits on the homescreen. Good luck, tough guy! it reads, followed by You’ll need it >:)

Connor’s pretty sure he’s already maxed out on luck today, but he keeps that thought to himself.

***

“Hey, look at that!” Henry says, waving his phone in the general direction of the backseat. “We’re ahead of schedule. Should be there in an hour if we don’t hit traffic and don’t make any more stops.”

“G-Great,” Connor grits out, barely even glancing at the phone screen. He’s much too focused on his bladder, which has been screaming at him to empty it for the past forty-five minutes. He knows he’s held more for longer many times before, but for some reason it feels like he’s the fullest he can possibly get. Every few seconds his bladder throbs under his seatbelt, hours worth of piss begging to be let out. He wouldn’t have ever dared getting this desperate in a public place before, and if it were just him who needed to go he would have swallowed his pride and asked for a rest stop ages ago.

But one look at Jack has him clenching his muscles and steeling his resolve. Jack, whose face is currently stained bright red, who can’t keep still for five seconds without breathing so heavily it sounds like he’d just run a mile. Right now he’s got his hips lifted as far away from the seat as his seatbelt will let him, his hands in fists braced on either side of his body. He’s so clearly desperate for the bathroom, and yet both of their states seem to have gone unnoticed by both Henry and Will.

He watches as Jack changes positions once again, letting his ass fall back down to the seat below him and bringing his knees close together, shimmying back and forth as he bites at his lip like he’s just walked out of a PornHub video. All of a sudden he gasps, his hands flying to his crotch and pressing down, one knee hooking over the other one. Connor feels his own face heat up as he tries to keep his libido in check, though the image does end up stiffening his dick enough to stave off the next wave of his own desperation.

He figures that he can get away with pretty much anything so long as the boys in the front seats don’t notice, so he takes the opportunity to pinch the tip of his half-hard cock, sighing in relief as he does. God, he’s really desperate--the pressure in his bladder is now one of the only things on his mind. He can barely even tell which song is playing through the car’s speakers now; only that its gentle vibrations are not making his situation any easier.

Maybe he should have thought ahead, been smart about it instead of taking Jack’s soda challenge. Maybe the whole “alcohol is a diuretic” thing does hold more truth to it than he’d thought. Either way, the only thing keeping him from beginning to leak is his semi and the thought that Jack is even more frantic than he is.

He hears a quiet “Oh, oh God,” from his right and glances over, surprised to see that he can see the faint outline of Jack’s penis where he’s gripping it through his pants. There’s no wet spot yet, but it looks like it won’t be long now before he begins to leak in earnest.

A wicked idea enters Connor’s head, one that he can’t resist even though his logical side tells him it’s an absolutely horrible idea. He grabs his phone out of his pocket and types out a quick text, chewing on his lip for a couple of seconds before he decides fuck it and hits send.

C: You ready to give up and ask for a stop yet or what?

His eyes flicker over to Jack, waiting for the far-away cell towers to deliver his message. Seconds later, Jack lets out a high, soft moan, hunching over and shifting his hips from side to side as he squeezes at his cock. It’s probably both the hottest thing Connor has ever seen and heard.

Jack glances over at him, reaching for his phone when he notices the one in Connor’s hand. He doesn’t seem very ashamed of holding himself, which only adds fuel to the fire that is Connor’s terrible idea.

It takes a minute for Jack to type out his response with one hand, his other glued to his groin with no sign of moving any time soon.

J: Jesus Christ, I feel like I’m about to pop

J: But there’s no way in hell I’m asking them to pull over for me!

Connor fights the grin that wants to pop up on his face, though it quickly turns strained as a wave of need hits him. He presses his thighs together and points his toes as he types as quickly as he can, then drops a hand down to hold himself. At least his desperation will serve as a good distraction if his plan goes awry.

C: Are you sure about that?

C: You’re holding your dick so much I’m tempted to offer to help you with it

He watches out of the corner of his eye as Jack reads the text. His friend’s eyes go wide for a split second, but as soon as it’s there it’s gone, and he’s typing away once again.

J: At least buy a guy dinner first, jeez

Connor feels his heartbeat stutter as he reads the response, his mouth dropping open a bit as he white-knuckles his phone, both from shock and the need to squeeze something to make the pressure inside him go away. Before he can even begin to think of what to respond, a huge wave of desperation overtakes him and he lets the phone slip out of his grip, gasping as his hands fly to his crotch to stop the impending flood. He’s at a nine out of ten now, easy--he can feel the piss at the tip of his cock, fighting as hard as it can to escape.

He risks opening one eye and glancing to his right, wondering how Jack will react to his desperation. Will he be grossed out if he notices that Connor is half hard still? Will he kindly pretend not to notice at all?

He’s surprised when his eyes focus enough to notice the expression on Jack’s face. He looks flushed, almost flustered… And more than anything, he looks intrigued.

“Wow,” Jack mouths at him, somewhere between impressed and teasing. Connor shoots a weak smile at him as he circles the base of his dick with his hands, squeezing with all his might. Luckily neither of the boys in the front has noticed anything yet, but it’s still both terrifying and exciting to be this desperate in their presence.

Connor winces as he lets go with one hand, reaching down to grab his phone. He’s definitely pushing his luck, but that look that Jack had given him… It’s not the kind of look that passes between friends. It’s his turn to type with one hand, and he’s shaking ever so slightly on top of that, but at last he manages to type out another text and hit send.

C: Enjoying the show?

Seconds later, he received a reply:

J: I’d give it a perfect review if I could let go of my dick long enough to type it out

J: Are you regretting that last soda btw?

C: Nah, I could hold for longer if I wanted to

C: Not that I have a choice

J: You’re lying, I can tell!

J: I’m bigger than you and even I feel like I’m gonna wet myself any second now

C: That sounds like a you problem

J: I bet you have to go just as bad as me

C: Is it the desperation talking or were you always this delusional?

J: Oh shut up

J: If you don’t have to go, I bet you won’t mind grabbing another soda, right?

C: What if I say I’m not thirsty anymore?

J: Oh, I wasn’t expecting you to drink it

J: I just wanna see the look on your face when your hand hits that ice cold cooler water

Connor stares down at his phone, a slow smile spreading over his face. Intentionally or not, Jack is playing right into the almost exhibisionistic fantasy he’s had for a while, both of his friend teasing him while he’s full of piss and of him torturing a desperate Jack right back. As carefully as he can, he sets his phone on the middle seat and reaches over to flip the lid of the cooler, staring into the slightly sloshing water with a mixture of dread and excitement. He can feel Jack’s eyes on him as he reaches in slowly, his fingers barely brushing the surface of the water.

Better to get it over with, Connor figures, and with that he dives in, submerging his whole hand in the ice water. He lets out a choked-off moan as his bladder convulses, trying in anguish to expel the hours and hours worth of urine. He grabs the first thing he can feel--a can of off-brand lemon lime soda nobody had bothered to drink yet--and yanks his hand out, dropping the can onto the floor of the car and shoving his hand back down onto his crotch.

It’s a bad idea all around. The water that had clung to his hand soaks into his jeans and through his underwear, brushing cool moisture across his sensitive penis as he clutches himself. “Ah, oh,” he hisses, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he moves his hips wildly back and forth, trying to keep the ocean of piss inside of him. It takes almost thirty seconds for the effect of the water to wear off on him, and it’s the closest he’s come to leaking since he’d last wet himself.

At the very least, he notes once he has himself back under control, Jack doesn’t seem to be faring much better. He’s constantly squirming, grinding his hips down into the car seat and letting out short, airy pants as he grabs at his dick, switching from hand to hand and occasionally using both. Every time he has to stifle a moan or a sigh, Connor’s cock gets a little bit harder, which in turn helps him hold it.

Jack doesn’t reach for his phone to text anymore, but he does glance over at Connor every few seconds, like he’s checking to make sure Connor isn’t watching. (Or like he’s making sure Connor is watching--it’s such unfamiliar territory that Connor can’t tell in the slightest.) It doesn’t matter, because either way Connor can’t bear to take his eyes off the show before him. It’s like every one of his fantasies of Jack wriggling around, drops of yellow staining the plush white bed under him, only this is even better because it’s real.

Jack is actually desperate in front of him, and better yet he’s flirting with him over it.

Connor’s thoughts are interrupted by a loud sigh from the front seat. He immediately pulls his hands out of his crotch, cringing at the lack of pressure and squeezing his thighs together to make up for it. He glances up in the direction of the sigh, which sounded like it came from Will’s part of the car.

“Something wrong?” Henry asks from the driver’s seat, reaching to lower the music.

“I’ve gotta piss again,” Will explains, crossing his arms over his head. “Guess I shouldn’t have had that last soda.”

“You want to pull over somewhere?” Henry offers, waving with one hand at the side of the road. “If it’s an emergency we can stop here, and if not we can always keep an eye out for a real rest stop.”

Connor’s eyes go wide, and he side-glances at Jack, who seems to have the same thought as him.

If Will asks to stop at a restroom, the game will be over.

Connor tries not to let the disappointment show on his face, though he knows the cons outweigh the pros for him. Sure, he’d get to pee at last and he wouldn’t be in danger of wetting himself around his best friends anymore, but he’d also lose the opportunity to see Jack slowly lose control, spurting hot leaks of piss into his jeans as he moans and squirms like crazy, trying his best to hold it in… In Connor’s mind, that image is priceless, worth more than any shred of dignity he might have left.

“Nah, it’s alright,” Will says with a wave of his hand, and Connor barely stops himself from breathing a massive sigh of relief. (Not relief relief, but still.) Unless Jack decides to speak up, it looks like his fantasy come true is back on track.

“What about you two?” Henry asks, his eyes flickering to the rear-view mirror, and Connor thanks the stars that he’s been able to keep his hand away from his groin for so long. “You haven’t gone since we got on the road, right? Do you want to pull over somewhere?”

“God, I totally forgot!” Will exclaims. “You guys must be pissing your pants back there.”

“Haha…” Connor trails off awkwardly, shifting his weight to his other side and pressing his knees into each other. “I mean, not yet.”

“What about you, Jack?” Will asks almost tauntingly. “You ready to admit you were an idiot for not going before?”

“I’m not admitting anything,” Jack says with a strained laugh, finding the strength somewhere to kick the back of Will’s seat.

“Oh, come on! You must be bursting back there!”

“Well, yeah…” Jack and Connor glance at each other at the same time, and something like mischief catches in Jack’s eye as they do. “I kinda feel like I’m about to explode,” he admits slyly, never breaking eye contact.

“Ha! I knew it!”

“Maybe it was all those beers… How many did I drink, four?”

“And half a soda,” Connor grits out, his dick throbbing both from arousal and desperation. He checks the rear view mirror and slowly slips a hand into his crotch once he’s sure Henry’s not looking. “You must be really full, huh?”

“Of course,” Jack agrees. “Although you can’t be much better off. You had almost as much to drink as I did, and it’s been hours since you last let go, hasn’t it?”

“Y-Yeah,” Connor manages to reply, heat flaring up in his cheeks. His dick feels rock hard under his hand, but he can’t stop kneading at it, both from his intense desperation and his need for friction. “Oh,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut for a second as the mix of arousal and need sends his brain into overdrive.

“I really don’t mind pulling over if it’s that bad,” Henry offers, but Jack answers for him.

“We’re f-fine, Henry,” he says in a less-than-convincing voice. “Don’t worry about us, just get to the c-campsite.”

“You gonna last the next twenty minutes, Connor?” Henry asks, glancing back in the rear view mirror again. This time Connor doesn’t bother taking his hands away from his crotch, hoping that his friend isn’t able to see how erect he is from the front seat.

“I’ll, mmh, be fine,” he says breathily, eyes practically rolling back in his head. His dick is so incredibly sensitive to every brush of his hand, to the point where he doesn’t know if he’d rather piss or jack off more. He looks over to see that Jack is doubled over once, again, one leg crossed over the other with his hands trapped in between them, putting as much pressure on his dick as he possibly can. His face is just as flushed (bad, bad choice of words) as Connor knows his is, and when he opens his eyes to meet Connor’s, his pupils are blown wide.

“If you say so,” Henry says with a shrug, speeding up as he passes the first car in minutes. “I’ll be honest, I was kind of hoping you’d ask to pull over. All this talk about pissing is making me need to go, too.”

“If those two can hold it for six and a half hours, I’m sure you and I can make it the rest of the trip without a bathroom break,” Will reasons. Connor’s eyes widen as he hears the number--six and a half hours?! No, it’s been more than that--it’s closer to seven or eight hours, considering neither of them peed after that first trip to the bathroom in the morning.

“Still, it’s not like it’s comfortable,” Henry says with a sigh.

“Oh, I know,” Jack says, his voice carrying an undertone of… mischief? Excitement? “I’m… not comfortable either.”

Through his haze of need, Connor notices that Jack isn’t just grabbing himself anymore, but moving his hand in small, open-palmed circles. Is he hard? he wonders, mouth dropping open a bit. Is Jack… getting off on this, too?

“Hey, try not to think about waterfalls,” Will pipes up, gleeful. “Or rainstorms, or whitewater rafting…”

Connor shudders, the very mention of all that gushing, gurgling, free-flowing water sending unwelcome images of toilets and showers to his brain. “God,” he hisses, knocking his knees together and bucking his hips in the air. Once again, he feels someone’s gaze locked onto him, and he doesn’t even need to check to know that it’s Jack who’s looking.

“Knock it off,” Henry cuts in, though there’s no bite behind his words. “The last thing I need is those two causing a flood of their own in the back of my car. I just had this thing cleaned a couple of months ago!”

“Oh, did you?” Will teases. “I couldn’t tell.”

A flood, huh? Connor thinks to himself, staring down at where the band of his jeans cuts into his bloated, distended bladder. I bet together the two of us could cover the whole floor of the car in piss, and then some. Jesus Christ, I have to go!

“Ten minutes,” Henry tells them as he pulls off the main road, onto an unfortunately bumpy dirt path.

Connor swears he can feel each tiny bit of gravel that they drive over, the bumps echoing throughout his bladder as he holds on for dear life. He hears Jack panting from his right and opens one eye to see that his friend is folded in half, both hands buried deep between his legs as he lets his hair fall into his face, chewing on his lip. He must be close to bursting, he realizes, noting the couple of beads of sweat dripping down his face.

As much as he’d love to watch Jack lose control and wet himself, soaking his jeans and the seat below him with hot urine, he’s pretty sure pissing himself in front of his friends isn’t something that Jack would be into, even if he is having fun holding. And it looks like they’ve only got a couple of minutes until one of them starts to leak, or even lets go completely.

“H-Hey, Henry,” he stammers, letting go of his penis with one hand to tap Henry on the shoulder. “We’re not, ah, um, we’re not so far away from the campsite, right?”

“Um, I guess so,” Henry says, glancing over his shoulder. “It’s like a seven minute drive, maybe a fifteen minute walk?”

“Could you let me and Ja-ack out here?” Connor asks, hoping the excitement doesn’t come through in his voice. “I d-don’t know about him, but I feel like I’m gonna pop, mmh! Any second now.”

“Please,” Jack gasps, lifting his head for just long enough for Connor to catch a hint of panic on his face. “I can’t hold it all the way to the, hahh, to the campsite!”

“Yeah, sure!” Henry slows the car to a stop, and Jack is out the door before Connor has even unfastened his seatbelt. “Just follow the trail to Campsite L, and  text me if you get lost, okay?”

“We will!” Connor promises, pushing the door open and setting his foot on the dirt path. Immediately gravity increases on his bladder and he lets out a loud, strangled moan as he dances in place, trying to keep himself dry. “Bye!” he yells, hobbling off to the side of the road after Jack, who’s already a good few feet ahead, still holding onto his cock for dear life.

Every step he takes is absolute torture--the pressure inside of him is enough to drive him crazy, and yet he’s still horny as hell despite the circumstances. “J-Jack, ahh, wait up!” he calls as he hears the car start behind him. “Jack!”

“Hurry up!” Jack calls without looking back, stomping his feet in place. “I seriously feel like I’m about to piss myself, Connor, it’s so bad. Ohh, I need to go!”

The two boys stumble through the forest, going as fast as they can without losing control completely, though it isn’t long before they start to leak. Connor makes it maybe fifteen steps from where he’d left the car before his bladder decides it’s had enough and contracts harshly, trying to override his control. He gasps in shock as a stream of piss jets out of his dick, wetting his pants from the crotch to the inside of the knee within three seconds, before he finally manages to cut off the flow.

Jack seems to be at the same stage in his desperation, because seconds later Connor hears a loud “Oh my God!” followed by the telltale splatter of urine against the ground. The sound is torturous to Connor’s ears, though he decides it’s worth it when he looks up and sees Jack bent over with his hands jammed between his legs, piss dripping out from between his fingers.

“How f-far do we have to go?” he asks from his hunched-over place a couple of feet ahead.

“We’ve gotta, haah, get away from the road,” Connor grits out, his bladder pounding inside of him, demanding he give it back the release he’d stolen from it. “C-Can’t have any cars seeing us when we… go…”

“Fine,” Jack agrees, reaching out to push himself forward on one of the nearer trees and stumbling a little as he goes. “You know,” he continues, looking back over his shoulder at Connor, “under different circumstances I don’t t-think I’d mind as much.”

“Ah… Yeah?” Connor adjusts the hand on his stiff, saturated dick and moans lightly as the fabric of his jeans rubs him just right. “What do you--mmm--what do you mean?”

“I think, oh, that you know what I mean,” Jack pants, breaking eye contact to squeeze his eyes shut against another flood of desperation. “God, I think my bladder’s in danger of p-popping right now.”

“Me too,” Connor agrees, glancing down at himself. Wow. His bladder isn’t the only bulge that’s noticeable--he’s pretty sure he hasn’t been this hard in years, and that’s including the few boyfriends he’d had in the past. He wonders if he would have already wet himself without the help of his boner, or if it’s his years of holding that are keeping the entirety of the Caspian Sea inside of him.

It feels like hours pass as the two of them stumble deeper into the forest, trying their best to contain the beer and soda inside of them for just a little bit longer. And yet when Connor works up the nerve to look over his shoulder (and the self restraint to look away from Jack, who’s currently hopping in place with one leg hooked over the other) he can still see the road through the bushes.

“I t-think this is it for me,” Jack moans, his breath fluttering. “I’ve, ah, never had to go this bad before!”

“Wait!” Connor pants, lifting one hand from his crotch to hold out towards Jack. “Over th-there!”

He moves his arm to point towards a deep seclusion in the woods, just out of sight of the road. “Just hold on, nngh, a little longer!”

“I… I don’t know if I can,” Jack admits, looking back at Connor with red cheeks and watery eyes. Connor can’t help but stare at him for a few seconds, taking in his messy hair and parted lips, his legs that are pressed so tightly together, and his hands, which are gripping the base of an obviously erect penis…

Oh.

So Connor was right before, and it hadn’t just been wishful thinking. Jack is getting some pleasure from holding it in, whether he meant to or not. And now here they are, together alone in the middle of a forest, both desperate to pee and totally aroused at the same time...

“Come on…” Connor says, drawing his eyes back up to meet Jack’s. “I- I’ll make it worth your while.”

Jack’s eyes widen once again, and he glances down at Connor’s crotch, where his piss-stained jeans are clearly tented in the front. Connor’s face heats up, but he doesn’t move to hide it at all. There’s no way he’s misread the situation--the evidence is right there in front of him, after all. And all those looks they’d given each other on the ride over, the flirty texts they’d sent each other… It can’t just be a coincidence, or a misunderstanding.

“O… Okay,” Jack says, his eyes wide as he turns to hobble towards the secluded area. Every few steps a couple of drops of urine make their way through his fingers, leaving tiny circles in the ground below him, but Connor knows that those tiny little leaks aren’t giving him any relief at all. His underwear rubs against him as he moves, and he shudders at the soft friction and the wetness of it all.

“Ah… O-Oh…” Jack sighs, pausing at the entrance to the clearing to dance in place. “Thank God we’re finally h-here…”

Before Connor knows what’s going on or has a chance to look away, Jack is scrambling at his zipper and pulling it down, reaching into his underwear to pull out his dick and leaking the tiniest bit along the way.

Wow, Connor thinks, his eyes going wide as he takes in his friend’s length. He can’t say he hasn’t fantasized about that kind of stuff before, but he’d never imagined Jack’s cock to look as insanely appealing as it does. It’s still stiff, too, and a little red, and for some reason Jack hasn’t actually started pissing yet…

Before he can stop himself, Connor takes a step forward, his own dick hard and straining against the confines of his jeans. Jack looks up, still not peeing, an almost hopeful expression on his face.

“C-Can I…” Connor stops mid-sentence to shift his weight to his other side, shimmying his thighs together as his bladder throbs inside of him. He’s never needed to pee so explosively bad before, and yet his need is the last thing on his mind at a time like this.

“Yeah,” Jack breathes, turning his whole body to face Connor. Hesitantly, Connor reaches out, brushing his fingers along the side of Jack’s dick and inhaling sharply as it twitches in interest. Jack makes a nngh sound, his breath stuttering as Connor continues to lightly touch him.

“I’ve never done this before,” he breathes, looking up at Connor unsurely. “What am I supposed to…”

“Do you want to try?” Connor asks, taking his free hand away to gesture at his lower half. Jack hesitates a second longer, then nods, watching hungrily as Connor lets go of his aching dick to unzip his fly. He considers pulling himself out, but instead goes for Jack’s hand, guiding it to the front of his jeans and letting Jack maneuver his way inside. His knuckles brush against the very bottom of Connor’s bladder and he shudders, eyes fluttering shut as Jack finally reaches deep enough and pulls his penis out.

“Oh…” he moans as Jack strokes him once, unsurely, then again with a bit more pressure. “That’s good…”

He forces his eyes open and reaches out once again, taking Jack’s leaking cock in his hand and twisting his wrist as he strokes, over and over again. Jack is making tiny little sounds, breathing shallowly and whining every time a bit of urine gushes out of him. Some of it splashes onto Connor’s lower leg, but he could care less at this point.

Jack may not have much experience jacking other guys off, but he’s sure as hell not doing a bad job of it. Maybe he mastrubates a lot, Connor thinks, the idea making him even harder as it enters his mind. Only it’s different now--he doesn’t have to fantasize, with the real deal right in front of him, on him. Every inch of his skin is so, so sensitive thanks to the overfilled capacity of his bladder, and Jack’s hand on him is practically sending him into overdrive.

“Ah, ah!” he exclaims as his bladder pangs harshly, forcing a short jet of piss to spurt out of his dick. He glances down, noticing that it had shot straight onto the leg of Jack’s pants and is dripping onto his hiking boots.

“Good?” Jack asks, pausing his ministrations, and Connor can’t help but thrust into his hand to get more friction.

“Don’t stop now,” he urges, taking a step closer until he can feel Jack’s labored breath on his cheek.

“Oh God,” Jack hisses as Connor speeds up his strokes, pausing briefly to drag his thumb over the tip, his fingers stroking the underside. “Oh God, Connor!”

His name sounds so delicious coming from Jack’s mouth that he practically comes right there and then. But right before he loses himself completely, his bladder contracts harshly, and he has to press his thighs together and shift his hips from side to side to keep from losing it all.

“Ah… haah… I still have to go so bad,” he whispers as a few stray drops fall from his cock, teasing him with the thought of release.

“Me too,” Jack agrees, his hand shaking as it pumps up and down on Connor’s dick. “But… I think it m-makes it better, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Connor groans. His legs feel weak under him, and he swears he can feel every cell in his body.

The sound of hushed moans and cries fills the seclusion, occasionally broken by a gush of hot piss hitting the forest floor. Connor knows he’s leaked enough to fill a whole can of soda on his own, and yet he still feels as desperate as ever--but at this point he’s too hard to lose control completely. Still, each stroke of Jack’s hand on his rock hard dick brings him closer to orgasm, and by the looks of things Jack feels the same. His penis is dribbling piss and precome, warm and sticky in Connor’s hand.

Time to bring him over the edge, Connor thinks, increasing his hand’s speed and making sure to pay attention to the tip every couple of seconds, smearing the leaked liquid around like some kind of lube. “Come on, Jack,” he huffs, eyes flickering between Jack’s dick and his face. “Come for me.”

That’s all it takes to send Jack to orgasm--his friend lets out a cry of pleasure as sticky white come squirts out of him, landing just to the left of Connor’s shoe. The ejaculate is immediately followed by an uncontrolled spurt of piss, followed by another, and suddenly Jack is gushing onto the ground with force, hours and hours worth of liquid finally exiting his body.

It’s that sight alone that sends Connor over the edge--he comes harder than he ever thinks he has before, his vision blurring and whiting out as Jack’s hand slips off his penis. He feels almost dizzy as his orgasm racks through him, shaking his body from fingertip to fingertip. His come lands in the rapidly growing puddle at Jack’s feet, sinking to the bottom of the urine like a feather in the air.

“Jesus,” Connor breathes, taking a deep breath in, but his bladder squeezes in protest, reminding him that he’s still far from empty. He makes a quick grab for his penis, but he’s too slow to prevent the line of urine from marking itself along the thighs of Jack’s pants in a splatter pattern.

He barely has time to notice before he’s pissing full force onto the ground, his urine mixing with Jack’s and creating a puddle beneath their shoes. And God, if that orgasm hit him hard, then finally being able to release all that liquid, those cans of beer and soda and water from the morning… It’s almost better. His stream is so powerful, thundering against the ground with force, and he can’t help but moan as his bladder finally deflates, letting go of the ocean inside of it.

The two of them piss in silence for almost a minute and a half, the sound of splattering echoing in Connor’s ears even as his stream tapers off. He doesn’t even bother tucking himself away, taking a few seconds to catch his breath and regain his bearings. His head is spinning from the events of the day, and he feels bone tired and jelly-like at the same time, but realistically he knows that they have to get back to the campsite before their friends come looking for them.

He opens his eyes, surveying the damage. Both his and Jack’s pants are soaked in several places, and he can already smell the piss drying on their hands and clothes. “Jack,” he says, tapping Jack on the shoulder several times. “We can’t go back like this?”

“Huh?” Jack opens his eyes, looking down at himself until he snaps out of his haze. “Oh, shit! What are we gonna do?”

“I don’t know… Did you bring a jacket with you or anything?”

“I was kind of preoccupied,” Jack laughs nervously. “Hey, didn’t Henry say we were gonna be camping near a lake?”

Connor squints, wracking his brain for memories from earlier in the day. “Yeah, he did. Do you think we should-”

“Have a little swim before we get back and help the others unpack?” Jack finishes for him. “It couldn’t hurt to be a little late, right?”

“Right…” Connor trails off, picking at a wet spot on his jeans. “Hey, Jack… You aren’t weirded out or anything, are you? I didn’t do anything too far, right?”

“What? Oh, no!” Jack reaches out to touch Connor’s arm, meeting his gaze with a small smile. “It was great, Connor. What are you worrying about?”

“I just… I didn’t know you liked guys,” Connor admits, somewhat embarrassed. “If I’d known, I…”

“I didn’t know either,” Jack tells him, rubbing his arm gently. “But… I liked it. I liked today, even if it wasn’t the most conventional.”

“I liked today, too,” Connor says, his face heating up as Jack moves his hand into Connor’s own. Jack smiles at him kindly, squeezing once.

“Come on, then,” he says, tugging Connor towards the road. “Let’s go get cleaned up, before the others wonder where we’re at.”

“...Alright,” Connor agrees, smiling back softly. “Let’s go.”

[popculturebuffet]

The Legend of the Three Caballeros: Dope-A-Cabana Review (Commissioned by WeirdKev27)

Salduos Amigos! Since i’m covering a full series, i’d like to welcome any newcomers to the first part of the epic final stretch of THE RIDE OF THE THREE CABLLEROS! For those of you just joining us, a few months back WeirdKev27, easily my biggest supporter as the only one who comissions any reviews from me, asked if I could do a big project for him: a comission of EVERY major american apperance of those three happy chappies in matching serapes. Give i’ve ALWAYS loved the boys ever since house of mouse and had been sitting on Legend of the Three Cablleros for far too long, more on that in a minute obviously, I happily agreed. Plus the rather nice influx of cash from the comissions was very welcome. If your intrested in comissioning your own, hit me up via my direct messages. It’s 5 dolalrs an episode, though I do do discounts on orders of 3 or more, and 10 for a movie, with again discounts for orders of more than one. And yes that plug was very shamless, but again I have no other job than this.  Back to the point these reviews have taken me on a wonderful journey: I got to rewatch the movie and revel in the fun songs, acid trips and super horny Donald Duck, got to both revisit one of Don Rosa’s best story and read another all time classic from the man I hadn’t before, took a trip back to the house of mouse to hear some great songs and see some great cartoons.. and some not so great ones, took a small detour to Mickey and The Roadster Racers to be baffled and annoyed though I am proud to say it was my first review back after I came down with Cornovirus and lost a week of work time. And finally I covered the town where everyone was nice, and got to see the boys have a joyous reunion with Donald and be lushly animated while.. Dewey jackassed around in a B-Plot and Webby resisted the urge to throat chop him. It’s been a long ride and you can find all of it is so far RIGHT HERE IN THIS CONVIENT LINK ! CLICK IT NOW IF YOUR CURIOUS. Point is while this was well paid for.. it’s easily one of the projects i’ve been most proud of and while i’m sad to see it winding down, i’m proud of what i’ve done so far, and I just wanted to heartily thank Kevin for the ride and for being so generious as to fund the whole damn thing. Your a good dude man. 

Which brings us here, to the grand finale. The Legend of the Three Caballeros! As the boys first starring roll as a group since the movie, there was really no other way this retrospective could end, and since I have a terrible problem with procastination and really hated this series version of daisy I just kept pushing back watching the series until now. I’m not proud of it but I am happy to correct it and hope you’ll all come along with me.  Before we get started I could not find much background on the show. It was directred by Matt Danner who was the character designer for the utter classic Xiaoilin Showdown and currently works on the Muppet Babies reboot, so i’m happy he’s still getting work. Otherwise I couldn’t find much. The most I could was on tv tropes, claming the series was orignally meant for Netflix.. and while I have no proof and this could easily be conjecture.. i’m inclined to belivie it. The series was apparently done long before the Ducktales reboot, to the point Frank Angrones was only vaguely aware of it and it didn’t even remotely impact the series, with Panchito and Jose only debuting in Season 2 because the original idea for bringing them in was scrapped. So while I don’t have proof.. I’m inclined to belivie it since it makes sense: Disney DID have a healthy relationship with Netflix once, setting up the MCU shows and likely being happy there.. but eventually they wanted their own corner of the sky, and likely didn’t want one of their shows bolted to the network like all their marvel shows were.  The problem this created though is Disney was CLEARLY left with a show they no longer had a place for. But even with that the show was still done, they COULD have put it on the Disney Now app or just aired it on the Disney Channel. See if there was any fan intrest in season 2 or throw one into production to at least beef up the episode count. I mean the Cabs have a built in fanbase, kids would likely love it... it’s the logical choice. But this is Disney. They’ve had to be drug kicking and screaming into representation, to the point they had to be fought for the gay romance subplot in owl house to happen, try to hide that the Sparkshort “Out” is about a gay man struggling with coming out despite having you know reams of content on the service with either gay subtext or out and out gay characters, and their attempts at doing representatoin to score points in other little ways.. have been pathetic, easily missable bits in movies that could , and have been, edited out in more homophobic countries. My point is yeah i’m still sore about how they and a LOT of the animation industry have to be dragged into doing the right thing over profit, and they often make very stupid decisions for seemingly no reason. They are a good company a good chunk of the time.. but Disney has done fucked up quite a bit. This is one of those times.  Instead they dumped the show on the Disney Life app in the phillipines and slowly some other countries, basically the Disney Now equilvent over there, and then just sort of forgot about it until Disney Plus launched. And given how many shows they HAVEN’T put on the streamer for again, seemingly no reason, it is a nice suprise the show finally got a release on there in the US. But before that, and proving what a massive mistake just abandoing the show was, the show did gather a massive fanbase via people uploading the episodes online. So yeah the show was treated REALLY shittily for stupid reasons, but thankfully it still has a fanbase to this day and said shabby treatment, as it always does, just encouraged fans to support it harder. So naturally i’m more than happy to give the series some spotlight as fanbase or no, it badly needs it and Disney sure as hell dosen’t want to do it. So if somebody’s gotta do it, might as well be me. This is the Legend of the Three Cablleros.  We open on some narration from Xandra, Goddess of Adventure. Granted she hasn’t been identified yet, and won’t be till next episode.. buuuut it’s easier on me to not have to dance around her name so your learning it now. But Xandra narrates that long ago there were epic battles against the good and the evil and all that by epic heroes, and it’s all cumilated in the Legend of the Three Cablleros. Post title drop we’re treated to the boys, in cool looking armor and with neat weapons, fighting a purple monster man as you do in an really beautiful and epic sequence As this scene illustrates the animation for this show is GORGEOUS, a lavish update of the standard disney style with nice use of shadows. It feels almost film quality in it’s work, and it’s an utter treat to watch and opening at the end was a good call: it both ratchets up excitement and allows the first ep to have some action since this one, as part of a two part premiere, is mostly setup. It’s eyecatching, exciting and makes you want to know what the hell is going on. And since Xandra realizes MAYBE starting the story at the climax was a bad idea, she takes us back a bit.

Okay maybe not that far. No we open properly at Donald’s house, where it’s his birthday! And like the movie, it’s Friday the 13th, an excellent call back. Donald’s making his breakfast, boliling some tea and.. talking with the weird foced warped refelection in the kettle who can apparently only say “right back at you handsome, wink”. Seriously I have so many questoins and all of them are about what this guy is, why is Donald so calm about all of this, and is he still alive after Donald destroys his tea kettle later.  Donaldo gets a call from Daisy, whose visting to spend the day with him and is waiting patiently int he bad part of town. I didn’t know Duckburg had a bad part of town but given Glomgold has to get his sharks and bombs somewhere, i’m not surprised. Unless he special orders them, but even then what if he needs a shark or a bomb in a hurry? He’s gotta get them somewhere and now we know where. So there’s that. So all’s going well until Donald’s asshole boss calls and forces him to come in despite Donald having the fucking day off and it presumably being on the schedule. So Donald rushes to work, and we do get some great gags but as you’d expect for Donald it goes poorly and he botches a kid’s haircut despite the mother being very rude.. and also a female version of pete. LIke.. did he remarry after the divorce from peg or is that his sister? Does that mean PJ and PIstol have a cousin I never knew about? I want answers dammit.. and picutures of spider-man. Not for any slander job I just really like spider-man. 

Eh it’ll do.As i’m doing a full series this time i’m stopping to talk about the main cast as we go soooo.... Tony Anselmo is naturally Donald, even pitching in to consult the crew on Donald’s characterization here, as really what better expert is there? He’s voiced Donald since the original Ducktales and has stuck with the roll since, only taking a break for Mickey and the Roadster racers and that’s likely because between finishing up this series and the Mickey Mouse shorts, and moving on to Ducktales 2017, he likely simply didn’t have the time for it. Granted given how little he was used in the first season of the show, he probably still could’ve done it but regardless, he’s a legend.  Daisy is voiced by Tress Macneile, who not only has voiced the character since House of Mouse and is easily the best voice for her, but is also one of the most storied and legendary va’s in the buisness, having been at this since the 80′s with zero signs of stopping. Just to name a few of her more notable roles, in chronological order; Gadget Hackenwrench, Babs Bunny, Agnes Skinner, Charlotte Pickles, Dot Warner (Which as of last year she’s picked up again and will do the same for Babs, just in case you thought i was exagerating on the “zero signs of stopping” thing), Pookie from Hey Arnold, Mom, Hoodsey Bishop, and Queen Oona among MANY, MANY smaller rolls. I didn’t even realize Charlotte or Hodsey were here, she’s that talented and deserves all the praise.. and way better rolls as Daisy than this one but we’ll both get to that and thankfully much like with Tony, the reboot’s giving her character some depth to work with so she gets to reallys tretch her chops. The woman turns 70 here, will likely keep going until she dies, and is wonderful and deserves more respect. 

 So because this is Donald, life wont’ stop punching him in the face and it turns out his house burned down, the fire people are destroying everything because their assholes, seriously they destroy both a family heirloom and a picture of his parents despite not being on fire. I’d be genuinely suprised if their general strategy wasn’t scremaing “fire, fire fire” and then going “rock rock rock” while they throw rocks on it. Super brucey bonus prize for the first person who gets that refrence and comments on it. I’ll get back to this in a second but SOMEHOW, beisdes loosing his home, all his possesions and his job... it gets even WORSE and Daisy calls, refuses to listen to him despite him having VERY valid excuses and breaks up with him. Oh and then the fire fighters gladly talk about going home to their in tact houses  and partners. 

So yeah let’s talk about this. This first 6 or 7 minutes.. is why I didn’t return to the show for a while. My brain has a bad habit of glomming onto certain parts of things, so it remembered the rough to sit through and not very funny first act.. and not the rest of the episode which is very good and likely more indiciative about how good the series is. Thankfully it does get better but this first act .. frames things like it’s DONALD’S fault somehow. I mean yes he did burn his house down.. but even that really isn’t his fault. He was called away suddenly, wasn’t thinking and made a mistake. Hell he proabably woudl’ve had more left if the fire department hadn’t gone crazy with the axes. His being called into work? He took the day off, and his boss was just a dick. His screwing up at the job? he was genuinely trying his best and doing his best and the client was just wholly unresonable. Donald did nothing wrong but the episode WANTS to frame him like some sort of screwup.. which he is, it’s Donald.. but not in this case. It was just a string of uncomfortable to watch bad luck that cumilates in him having nothing left. It’s not funny, it’s jsust really sad and it’s REALLY hard to tell the tone their going for as they seem to awkwardly bounce from jokes to Donald being utterly devistated and alone. 

And the worst of this.. is Daisy. Daisy is EASILY the most infamous part of the show, as their portryal.. is pretty bad and apparently gets worse. We’ll see as we go but yeah.. her screaming at and breaking up with her boyfriend without listneing to his side and giving the claim we only have HER word on that he’s always screwing up, ON HIS BIRTHDAY no less, when he’s done nothing wrong, does not make a good first impression nor the fact the show seems to AGREE WITH HER. And look Donald is a trainwreck, this is true.. but the show dosen’t remotely portray him as one until AFTER this scene. As I said nothing that happened was his fault. Donald isn’t irresponsible or a screwup or dating a high schooler or anything. He isn’t Scott Pilgrim. He just has really bad luck. Again, we do see some foibles in the scenes to come.. but we don’t see any that would justify her claims, especially since she seemed perfectly happy earlier with him. Now if she’d say brought up some screwups in the first scene, and gently at that, then this would’ve worked.. but as it stands she just comes off as MASSIVELY unsymapthetic.. especially since Donald later calls her nieces over for help, which is objectively weird not gonna lie.. so she now KNOWS he had to move to a new house and his likely burned down.. yet still apparently has nothing good to say about him. 

It didn’t help this rubbed me the wrong way in a very special way. As i’ve made plain before I don’t like THIS version of Daisy, the nagging, selfish, vindictive asshole who will gladly try and cheat on donald, dump him at a moments notice and you know PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE. Which just in case you think i’m exagerating...

She fucking upercutted him..and like here for something that isn’t his fault. I mean this Daisy isn’t physically beating Donald.. but that’s a VERY low bar to clear. And emotional abuse is just as bad, so there. My point is too often in the comics when written poorly, Daisy is a pretty terrible person and I REALLY didn’t want a screen adaptation of this form of Daisy. It took a WHILE to recover from not liking daisy over this version, with help from remembering house of mouse, some good barks story with her and the AMAZING Ducktales version and the suprisingly good Quack Pack version.. I did. But yeah.. this is not a good sign of things to come for the character in this show. 

So yeah Donald’s heart is in the basement and his week is at an all time low when a post man shows up and gives him a letter.. well puts it in the box for a good gag but semantics. But the letter turns around as his ancestor Clinton Coot left him an inhertance for his 3Xth birthday: a house of some kind in the swanky neighboring town of New Quackmore. And i’ll also say.. it’s REALLY nice that for once, we focus on the Duck side of Donald’s legacy, or rather the coot but semantics, instead of the McDuck part. Don’t get me wrong, I fucking love the clanmcduck, always will and I love Ducktales exploration of it.. but it’s still nice to acknowledge Donald comes from two sides and while one of those may be humble farmers, they still accomplished a lot, including founding Duckburg in most continuities including presumably this one. It’s also a good way to seperate thigns from other properties including the reboot: focusing on a part of Donald’s lineage that isn’t usually touched on and making THEM just as badass as the other side. 

So we get a quick montage as Donald takes a cab there and takes in the rich and fancy sights. It’s also a brilliant way to set up New Quackmore and it’s attached instutite as a fancy, upperclass place.. and thus perfectly clash it with Donald. Donald ends up getting dropped off at a big mansion.. which is not his , but belongs to the insittutes head, Baron Von Sheldgoose, played by WAYNE KNIGHT. 

Hell. Yes. I freaking love Wayne Knight. In case you don’t know who the man above is, or at least don’t recognize his face, Wayne Knight is a very funny and talented actor and voice actor with a lengthy career primarily in side rolls, with the rolls that he broke out with being loveable asshole and Jerry’s enternal nemisis Newman on Seinfeld and Dennis Nedry, aka “that guy who got sprayed acid in his face by those horrifying frilled dinosaurs that will never not haunt my nightmares”. Seriously that scene fucked me up as a kid and I could not watch that part of the movie. For the most part he’s been a side character man but he has done a LOT of voice work, most notable Zurg in Buzz Lightyear of Star Command, Dojo for the aformentioned and excellent Xiaolin Showdown, and Mr. Blik for Catscratch and I wish he’d do more. He also recently voiced the penguin in Harley Quin so when I get to that you better belivie i’m looking forward to it. Point is while he may not always get the glory, and had to settle for starring in a mediocre tv land sitcom to get a steady paycheck once, the man is VERY talented, very funny and perfectly cast here. 

So Donald makes himself home, finds out it’s not HIS home and gets thrown out by the snooty rich asshole’s bodyguards. As you’d expect. Donald does find HIS home, a run down cabana next door to the mansion with caution tape all over. Still Donald takes it best he can as it’s better than no home at all> What he doesn’t take well is finding out from the executor of the will that he’s not the only one inheriting the house... which is  absolutley fair. The guy just had the worst day of his life, and this lady didn’t bother to put in the letter to any of them that they were sharing the house. The Sheldgoose thing was just an average Donald screw up. This is just this lady going...

But yes we meet our boys.. and the introductions are naturally given this series is about them the best we’ve gotten so far: Jose is thrown off a bus, having ran out of fair, and having wooed all the ladies on board, and quickly charms the executor and is perfectly cordial to Donald, while Panchito parachutes out of a plane and marvels at how he went from nothing to having two new best friends, a run down shack and a sleezy lawyer! In short the two make a great first impression, helped by wonderful casting.  Jose is voiced by Eric Bauza, a talented voice actor whose had WAY too many roles to list here, but two of the most notable are being the current voice of Bugs and Daffy, and his most notable role outside that recently has been playing Splinter in Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. But the guy is endlessly talented, seems really nice, and is easily one of my faviorite Jose’s so far after just one episode. He just.. gets the character perfectly and is thankfully NOT another white guy stepping into the role, so that’s nice. He easily oozes the charm and layabout nature Jose and was a natural in the role and i hope he gets to take it up again at some point.  Speaking of naturals we have Jamie Camil as Panchito, who easily steps into the guys boundless energy and the sterotpical bits are swapped out for making him a cloud cuckoolander instead, which I genuinely love and fits the character perfectly. He’s best known for CW Soap Jane the Virgin, where his charcter Rodrigo just sounds like a delight, but has recently picked up a pretty good voice acting career, vocing Don Karnage in the Ducktales reboot, Globgor in Star vs the Forces of Evil and Todd’s Stepdad George in Bojack Horseman. I only hope he gets more voice work as he’s really damn great at it and it’s wonderful to get to see him in a role that’s not limited to a few episodes at best for a change. 

So Donald’s less than happy about this, again it’s hard to really be that mad at him when he’s had a really, REALLY bad day and wasn’t told about this, but it’s kept to just the light level of grumpy as to not make him unlikeable. Granted after that intro it’d take a LOT to make him unsympathetic, but after their version of Daisy I really dont’ want to test this series.  Our boys also find out they have a groundskeeper, ari, aka THE ARCUAN BIRD! He’s just a delight any time he pops up, doing his usual “ya ta ta ta” bit, and being adorable and hilarioius as always.. and also hilariously failing to fix the boys door. So Donald ends up just accepting he has roomates now, nothing he can do, and the three explore the house finding all sorts of cool old artifacts, feeling they’ve stumbled onto something specail. And you know what that means: YARD SALE! Seriously it feels like a bit out of Wet Hot American Summer or Stella, a  series from the same creators you really should check out and that is high praise, trust me. 

I wish this series was streaming somewhere.. I mean we finally got Clone HIgh streaming Viacom, get on that. Anyways, it’s just.. fucking hilarious, and a LOT of this episode is once we walk back from the writers kicking donald in the junk and acting like it was his fault. Once Donald gets his inhertiance, the episode picks up immensley and we see the shows real charm and hilarirty fly, with jokes coming at a rapid and wonderful pace. The show really did impress me with the second half and made me utterly excited for tommrow.. or I guess today’s, look at the follow up.  But we’re still in this episode and being a rich asshole, Sheldgoose isn’t happy about a yard sale, though given this series standards, we not only get some great deliveres from Knight of an outraged “A YARD SALE?!”... but a wonderful gag where Sheldgoose out to white guy it up and yell at them over this..accidently takes a wrong turn in his massive house, and turns around, not loosing how upset he is once.  Meanwhile, we meet.. April, May and June. Yeah apparnetly Della isn’t dead or lost in this continuity, so the boys are MIA, and are instead replaced by Daisy’s Nieces, who I hope show up in the reboot before it ends. Especially since the show makes them WAY more tolerable than classic huey dewey and louie and instead enjoyable like Ducktales HDL. While not as indvidual as those three, the three are still idendtical outside of outfits, their voice actress Jessica DiCicco uses her consderiable talents and experince to give each one a unique voice, so while they all share a voice actress, none of them sound alike. And to round out our main cast for now, as our last members will be joining us fully next time, let’s talke about Jessica DiCicco. Jessica is a very talented and increasingly prolific voice actor and if you haven’t heard of her, and you probably have, you’ve defintely heard her voice. Starting out with Disney, hence why the probably called on her for this, she did the voices of Maggie for the Buzz on Maggie and Melina for Emperor’s New School before breaking out as Flame Princess on Adventure Time, whose both one of my faviorite characters from the show and one we’ll be digging into starting next month. And not one to rest easily she picked up a second set of iconic rolls vocing Lynn and Lucy Loud on The Loud HOuse, and funnily enough using those voices for two of the girls here. And along with Loud House she’s also currently starring in it’s Pony and is int he main cast of Close Enough as Candace. My point is she’s exceedingly talented.. as is this whole cast, as it’s a DAMN excellent cast and just further sells that this series deserves better.  We’ll get into the girls more next time as they don’t do much here other than get called in by Donald for help, with what I saw of episode 2 fleshing them out more. Point is Sheldgoose offers a million dollars for the cabana and all it’s stuff and the boys are glad to sell.. they just have to find something Sheldgoose desperately wants, a mysterious golden atlas encrusted with Jewels.  Our heroes head in to find it with Panchito finding it, and being very specific about it. We also get a nice call back to Ari destroying the door as Jose cleverly calls on him to destroy the lock. So our heroes open the book... and a goddess pops out and threatens to kill them all. 

Final Thoughts: Dope-A-Cabana is a decent intro the series, but as i’ve said it’s heavily hampered by a weak and mean spirited first act. But once it gets going it REALLY gets going and as part 1 one of a two part pilot, it does it’s job well once it does get going: introducing our three boys and one of our antagonists well and setting up the side cast and preparing for our last to major additions Next Time: The Boys go on their first adventure, Sheldgoose finds a boss and the girls find their voice. Thanks for Reading, Goodbye, Goodbye, Goodbye. 

[wyofabdoms]

Ten Days - Day Eight

Characters: Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Javier is shot and refuses to take his antibiotic while recuperating. You get creative and make him a deal that ensures he will take his medicine everyday: one kiss for one pill. It's gonna be a long 10 days.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major character injury, slow burn, mutually unrequited, angst, swearing, soft and sweet Javi, period appropriate sexism, brief mention of broken Javi

Word Count: 2484

Note: You have a bad day at work and seek out Javi to keep you company.

Read the full series on Ao3

The Friday work day ends early for you and finds you seething as you stomp up the stairs to your apartment carrying two loaded bags, one stuffed with your favorite take out food, the other clinking with multiple bottles of red wine (and one large bottle of whiskey).  

It had been that kind of day.

All you wanted to do was drink yourself into a fuzzy stupor so you could forget the bullshit from today. The second you’re in your apartment, you shuck off your work clothes in the main entryway and pop open a bottle of wine in the kitchen wearing nothing but your bra and underwear.  As you gulp down the first sharp taste of tart alcohol, you wander to your bedroom.  By the time you’ve washed your face, put your hair up out of your face and changed into comfy shorts and a ratty tshirt, your glass is empty.  It’s a good thing tomorrow’s Saturday because you can tell right now you’re probably going to have a major headache in the morning.  You click on your record player and turn up your favorite Bruce Springsteen album, then snuggle into your couch with your food, another full glass and a trashy romance novel.  A few bites into your meal, though, and your train of thought wanders back to your day and you lose your appetite.

How dare they!  How dare they all.  YOU were the one responsible for that intel.  After the shit you’d had to do to track down that punk bartender and get him to talk...no one even bothered to acknowledge it. Not that you required them to stoke your ego and tell you how great you were, it wasn’t like that at all.  It was when you were passed over despite your hard work and someone else completely undeserving earned the praise that infuriated you. It was always that way (most of the time, anyway).  Every single male colleague you worked with always seemed to overlook the fact that, more often than not, you brought things to investigations that might not normally have happened; that you worked as hard as they did...oftentimes harder.  You had to to be successful in a man’s world. You were damn good at your job.  As cliche as it sounded, you often thought it as your woman’s intuition...an idea that many people scoffed at, but you knew was actually a legitimate and important trait.  But today had been more than just the usual workplace sexism.  Once again you had been overlooked as being an integral part of the team.  It happened so often by now that you were still surprised when it stung so much.  Today you had just felt like breaking.  So you had left work early...not even bothering to clock out or finish your paperwork.  

Fuck them!

You couldn’t stop yourself this time.  Tears began to fall again (Christ, when did you become such a crybaby?!?) and you shoved your face into a throw pillow as you sobbed for several minutes, getting the anger and frustration out of your system.  It was so unfair.  And you knew that if you had been born with a penis and were in the same situation, it would be a different story all together.  You also felt a pang of longing: if Javier hadn’t been sidelined and out of commission, you know he would have had your back today.  He was the one exception to the sexism you experience (most of the time).  It had taken some coaching on your part when you had first become partners; he had made his fair share of blunders that had hurt you and been unfair.  But he had always listened when you had called him on his bullshit, when you had explained how the things he had done or said made you feel, explained how they were not fair solely based on the fact that you were female.  Early on he had acknowledged when he was wrong.  He still occasionally did or said something thoughtless, but he usually was quick to recognize when he was wrong and he had inadvertently become your champion when things like today happened.  Though you hated to admit it, when he spoke up to others on your behalf, it made you feel good...although it also enraged you that a man’s voice pointing out your hard work was heard by the other men in a room rather than them all just recognizing it on their own.  Javi would have stood up for you today if he had been there.

Thinking about your partner reminds you that you should probably check in with him before you get too tanked...you definitely don’t want to interact with him after you’ve had as much wine as you were planning to have...and after you’ve been reading things you know you’ll encounter in your book.

You snatch up the bottle of whiskey, not bothering to hunt down his keys and patter down the hall to his apartment, tap, tap, tapping on his door, enjoying the soft buzz the wine was making you feel on the edges of your thoughts, eager to make sure he was set for the evening so that you could get back your own apartment.

As soon as Javi opened the door you realized immediately that you had made several critical errors despite only being one glass of wine in.  His eyes immediately traveled down your body, taking in your exposed neck; it was unusual for you to wear your hair up like this. They roamed further and assessed your t-shirt with hardly any elastic, the collar hanging low and dipping off one shoulder.  Despite the fact that you swam in the material, it was obvious to his keen eye that you were not wearing a bra beneath it.  You started to shuffle a little as his eyes traveled further and raked down your bare legs, his lips curling into a smirk when he saw your bright yellow, fuzzy socks.  You rolled your eyes at his roaming gaze.  My champion...you thought sarcastically.

“Hey!”  You said loudly, snapping your fingers in front of his face a few times then waving your hand in front of your own face, drawing his eyes away from your exposed legs.  “My eyes are up here, Peña. You don’t need to be lookin’ anywhere else.” He shot you a guilty grin, knowing he was caught and you felt some pressure leave your chest.  After his apology last night and the unspoken sweet moment that followed, you were afraid things might be weird between you.  Thankfully, though, things felt ok...until you see the smile drop from his face and his forehead crease in concern.

“What happened?”  He asks.  You pause, confused by what he means.  Then you realize: you had just been sobbing into a pillow in your apartment...no doubt your face looked as puffy and red as it felt.  You held up the bottle of whisky.

“I got passed over for another commendation today.” Your voice was full of false cheeriness, edged in steel and highlighted with fury.  Javi’s eyebrows came together  “Agent Dickhead got it instead.  Want to have a celebratory shot with me?”  

“Sure,” and he stepped back from the doorway to let you in.

***

Javi was appropriately outraged along with you at the injustice of the entire situation as you sat at his kitchen table.  After inviting you in, he had gotten glasses for you both as well as a bowl of chips and you had poured them each a drink. Out of the corner of your eye, you had seen him glance at you to check that your back was turned and you had watched as he knocked back a pill from the bottle next to the sink, keeping his back to you, and making no mention of it.  One shot had turned to two and you both went back and forth between chuckling and spitting ire over for the incompetence of the man who had wrongfully received the recognition that you deserved.  After your partner poses a particularly explicit hypothetical question regarding “Agent Dickhead’s” relationship with his mother that leaves you clutching your sides in a fit of giggles, he sighs.

“Sorry I wasn’t there.  I know you don’t need me or anything like that, that’s not what I mean, but…” he trails off for a moment and fiddles with his glass on the table before finishing.  “...I just wish I could have said something.  You don’t deserve to be treated like shit.”  You sigh too and lean back in your chair.

“Thanks.  I appreciate you saying that.”  You sit in an amicable silence.  Then you shift in your seat, stretching your legs from where you had tucked them up under you  “I should go.  I don’t want to keep you, I just…” your frustration from the day hits you again like a ton of bricks and in the next instant, to your utter horror you are blubbering into your hands, your shoulders shaking, trying not to sob hysterically in front of what you are sure is your mortified partner.  

You hear his chair scrap across the kitchen tile and you feel more than see him kneeling next to you on the floor.  Before you can react to his closeness, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his solid frame.  You think for a moment that you should pull away...but you just can’t. You breath him in as you lay your head against his chest and cry into his shirt, the soft smell of soap and cigarettes giving you something else to focus on besides your hurt and rage and you feel your tears start to subside just a little.  He buries his face in your hair for just a moment, taking a deep breath and releasing it in a heavy sigh, then he props his chin on top of your head, tightening his arms a little bit more around you.  

You stay like that for a while, his arms cocooned around you, you letting him hold you while you cry yourself out.  He’s told you before there is nothing more terrifying to a man than a woman in tears and you know how uncomfortable it makes him feel.  This isn’t the first time you’ve cried in front of him; it’s happened before on a few occasions, but it has never resulted in anything quite so intimate.  He usually slings an arm around your shoulders or simply sits next to you patiently, waiting until all of your tears are spent.  And then there had been that one terrible, dark time when you had found him curled up in the locker room at work at two in the morning, his head clutched in his hands, shoulders shaking, silently sobbing into the wall.  You had never been so frightened of anything as you had been then, seeing him so broken in front of you. You had held him and the two of you had never spoken of it again save for his grunted thanks the following day.  

You close your eyes and allow yourself to feel safe, feel small, feel cared for, even if only for a few moments.  Your breath comes in shallow stutters as your breathing begins to regulate.  Reluctantly, you pull back, sniffling and wiping your nose with the back of your hand.  You touch the wet front of his shirt, chuckling your apologies, embarrassed.  He shakes his head and shrugs in response and you force yourself to look at him.

His eyes are full of something that makes your heart pound.  The longing from previous nights, a reflection of your own hurt, and something that can only be described as adoration.  He brings his hands from around you and frames your face along your jaw, his thumbs carefully tracing the trails your tears have made on your cheeks, wiping away the last of the wet streaks.  

“You ok?”  He gruffs softly, the question reflected in his soft, sweet brown eyes as they search yours.  You can only nod, hypnotized by the incredible tenderness you see in his face.  For all of the resolve you have always had that has kept you from crossing the line with this man, you have never felt so much weakness as you do in this moment.  Every part of your being screams at you to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him; to beg him to touch you, to make love to you.  You know if you did he would oblige you.  He would make you forget how hurt you are by work, make you feel like the most special person in the whole wide world, make you splinter apart under his ministrations.  All you had to do was close your eyes and lean forward…

...Before you can convince yourself to act or not, Javi makes the decision for you.  Cradling your head in his hands, he leans forward, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to your lips.  It lacks the heat of the last time your lips touched, but strikes a perfect balance between chaste and lustful, pressing just long enough to be more than a peck, but not so long that either of you get lost in your desires.  He pulls away after a few tender moments, pausing as he does just millimeters from your face, his eyes open and studying you carefully, taking a moment to breathe in the air from your exhalation, his lips hovering over yours.  Your eyes remain closed, though, unable to look at him for fear of wrapping yourself around him and shoving him to the floor to ravish him.  He lowers his head, his forehead brushing your mouth and he lets out a shaky sigh.  He whispers your name as though casting a spell and you open your eyes, staring at his lowered head until he raises it again.

He looks at you for a moment longer, then rocks back onto his heels and pulls himself up to standing, taking you along with him.  You stand a little too close to each other for just a moment, heat crackling across the small space that separates you, your palms flat on his chest, his hands resting on your elbows before they drop to his sides. He takes a small step back and the raw desire you see in him frightens you.

You mumble your thanks for the company and the drink along with an apology for losing your shit on him.  He waves you off, telling you not to worry about it, never breaking eye contact. You swallow hard and blink before saying goodnight and making your way back to your own apartment, your legs suddenly feeling like they’re made of jelly and your heart pounding so hard you’re amazed he doesn’t hear it all the way down the hall.

Day One 

Day Two 

Day Three

Day Four

Day Five

Day Six

Day Seven

Day Nine

[genshin-impact-fics]

To Protect

Pairing: Kaiser x Albedo (OcXCanon)

Warning: If you haven't done the "We Will Be Reunited" chapter of the story know that this fic is kind of spolierish.

A/N: It's been a while since I've written a fic so I'm a lil on the rusty side. I'm also thinking of writing an alternative route/ending of this story which will go one of two ways I have in mind :3

It seemed that the Abyss Order was hunting down any sort of lead of powerful beings that the prince/princess could utilize to rid the world of the archons and gods alike from this world. It seemed like their latest target was a certain alchemist that spent his time up in the cold mountains of Dragonspine.

Once again Albedo was up in the harshly cold mountains working on a new experiment that should enhance a person’s resilience to the sheer cold in Dragonspine. If he could manage to create an effective formula then it would make traversing the cold land a little bit easier especially the knights that needed to be there; however the traveler was away doing commissions which meant he’d have to look for someone else which thankfully Albedo was able to once again request the help of his fellow knight member and friend Kaiser. The two were currently standing by a fire nearby the open area where the cyro hypostasis resides. “I’m not going to get sick from this one will I,” Kaiser asked while examining the liquid contents within the vile as last time he had her assist with an experiment, they quickly discovered that she happened to be very allergic to energy nectar. Albedo still felt terribly about that incident as he never wanted to harm others with his experiments though there just seemed to be some things that were out of his control; since then he’s made sure to not give her anything with any nectar in it, not wanting to see her suffer like she did again.

“I promise you that you shouldn’t get sick from this as I’ve taken the liberty of trying on myself first to ensure your safety. But because I don't get too bothered I needed someone who would best benefit from this,” he reassured her as yes after a prolonged amount of time he’ll get very cold so the data he’ll collect from this trail should give him a good understanding of where to go from there. “Right,” she said, opening it and drinking it all before handing back the empty vile. “So all I have to do is stay in the cold for however long until I feel like I’m freezing,” she reiterated to clarify what she was doing exactly. Giving a firm nod he gave a ghost of a smile before saying, “Yes you’re correct. I’ve mapped out areas with groups of hilichurl camps that you can take care of. If at any time you’re getting cold or don’t feel well we can rest at a safe spot and go over my findings.”

With that the two set out as Albedo led the way to the locations he plotted in advance. Things were going smoothly thus far as currently they were at the fourth location and Albedo watched in the short distance observing Kaiser fight the last frostarm lawachurl. Her movements swift and flawless, truly a beautiful sight to witness: the way her long black hair flowed in the chilled winds and flakes of snow, how the electricity she admitted danced around her, even the precision of her swordsmanship with her rapier. Albedo had the urge to take the time to draw this very moment to capture the elegance he saw in Kaiser, but stayed focused on keeping notes as he certainly had taken notice that her normal speed rate was decreasing possibly due to the cold most likely starting to take effect.

The frostarm lawachurl was finally defeated as Kaiser walked over rejoining Albedo and now that she was much closer he could easily see her cheeks and nose were a soft pink color. “How are you feeling,” he asked immediately as he was thinking of possibly calling this a stopping point so she could warm up not wanting her to over do it. “Feeling pretty cold but it isn’t unbearable. Shall we head to the next location? You said there were two more right so let's head out,” she said, turning to walk off but by instinct he quickly grabbed her wrist to stop her from going any further to which she seemed to instantly glance back at him with narrowed eyes. “I think we should at least to take a break and get you warmed up; you’ve surpassed the estimated time I initially hypothesized,” he voiced his opinion to the slightly taller woman. Letting out a small sign a puff of air came from Kaiser as she glanced at his hand that was holding her wrist before glancing back to him; he really was lucky she liked him because if this had been any other person she would have most likely beat the crap out of them by now. “I’ll be fine, besides it shouldn’t take that much longer right? Let’s just finish up and then I’ll rest,” she said persisting that they continue forth with the experiment. Much to his displeasure he decided to listen as he’d be sure to keep a little closer in case he needed to step in and finish the fight so he could get her somewhere warm and possibly mend what injuries she sustained.

For the fifth location they ended up in the open area that had a once active fighting mechanism as there happen to be a few hilichurls still hanging around. He watched as she went over to repeat her process of fighting enemies. His note taking didn’t last much longer as finally he succumbed to his urges of sketching Kaiser and even including the astonishing serpent made out of electricity that went around attacking the hilichurls. When it seemed like she finished off the last one suddenly more came running out of nowhere to attack. Not wasting a second he tossed his clipboard aside to assist her in fighting as surely she had to have been at her tolerant limit.

“I had it perfectly under control. I didn’t need help,” Kaiser said, looking over to Albedo after the last one fell. Her face was much more redder in the nose and cheeks as he could see how she tried to refrain from shivering; letting out a sigh he shouldn’t be surprised, she really does do everything to finish a job by any means necessary. Letting out a small sigh he now stood in front of Kaiser as he was grateful for her hard work but he also worried for her well being. “Yes I know but the way all those hilichurls came out of nowhere was very strange almost as if-” he was saying now holding his chin as he was speculating until suddenly there was a large and strange portal that opened up a couple feet away from the two knights. The two exchanged glances before looking at the portal as two abyss mages came floating out and another one came out that they’ve never seen before: a very tall being dressed in full armor that was dark blue stood between the two mages. “So it is true that the prince of chalk walks these lands. My highness will be pleased with our findings,” the armored being spoke.

Albedo was confused by what this being was saying, but regardless it didn’t sound good. Gripping her rapier tighter in her grasp despite the violent chills running up and down her spine she was prepared to fight. “You’re in no condition to fight,” Albedo said as he knew this fight would be pretty much unavoidable yet he feared that at this rate she’s at a high risk of falling ill and even possibly fainting during battle. “I’ll worry about it later,” she simply said before she was gone in a flash of purple electricity for him to see her already attacking the tall figure with whatever full force she had left in herself. Quick to join the fight he could only wonder if this was the same being that Jean mentioned from the incident that took place in Wolvendom not too long ago. The mages were the easier ones to take out; however, it seemed that even with the two of them against what they learned was to be an abyss Herald was surprisingly difficult. It was when a large burst of water sent them flying back some leaving a couple of feet that separated the two. In a fit of coughing Kaiser slowly pushed herself back up; her body feeling like she fell in the cold waters that surrounded the area, at this point it felt so cold that it was burning. Albedo also recovered from the knock back looking over to check on his dear friend who seemed to not be faring well and how the Herald was staring in her direction, that didn’t sit well with him. “What an interesting display of power,” the Herald said before turning his attention onto Albedo before continuing with “But onto more pressing matters.”

The Herald was beginning to speak in an old language chanting some sort of spell that soon enough right underneath Albedo a circle with various symbols began to appear in a glowing purple color. The glowing beneath him caught his attention causing his teal eyes to widen in surprise; his body standing still instead of moving to get outside of the mysterious circle trying to read the symbols. The glowing only seemed to grow stronger as more purplish mist came from the ground, he might have just left himself in a bad situation. The sound of running boots crunching in the snow didn’t register to him until he was broken out of his thinking when feeling hands harshly pushing him away as he heard, “Move it!” Feeling the cold snow that he landed in it fully brought him back to earth; the sound of rattling chains rung in his ears.

Quick to look over where he once stood to see what happened his eyes widened in terror; Kaiser was trapped completely binded by chains that had that eerily purple mist around it. “Kaiser,” Albedo called her name as once again she protected him from a dangerous situation. His stomach turned feeling nauseous and his chest stung as if it was being twisted. Kaiser looked like she was trying to struggle against the chains yet it was clear she didn’t have much energy to keep up the struggling for too long. “How unexpected,” the Herald said without much of a change in it’s tone. “Get out of here,” Kaiser said looking over to him from the corner of her eye wincing out of pain from trying to breath. Looking over to her he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, she was asking him to just… abandon her here? Shaking his head in a quick no manner he loudly claimed, “I simply cannot just abandon you here by yourself! I will do no such thing.”

“I’m not asking, I’m telling you to leave me here and head down the mountain!”

“But-”

“Can it! Go and alert the others, I’ll try to hold on for as long as I can,” Kaiser said internally knowing it wouldn’t be for that much longer before she blacked out. He’s never felt so useless in his life before yet here he was unmoving from his spot on the snow covered ground unsure of what to do. He was starting to blame himself for everything and there wasn’t a thing he could do to save the person he deeply cared about.

“For someone who holds so much animosity towards the world you still protect its people. Why? Why oppose the Abyss Order,” the abyss Herald asked as Albedo looked at Kaiser. He knew of her past from the stories she’s trusted him enough to tell him and so he understood her anguish… But he never really realized how deep the anger she harbored truly ran. “Just because I hate the world… Doesn’t mean I- have to hate… Everyone in… It,” she managed to speak through her teeth.

Out of nowhere did a tornado come flying through hitting the abyss member and causing him to be pulled away a bit. “You leave our friends alone,” the familiar high pitched voice of Paimon could be heard as much to Albedo’s relief as the traveler had shown up just at the perfect time. Watching the traveler fight against the Herald was outstanding. While the fight was progressing Albedo noticed the chains suddenly disappearing around Kaiser and her body starting to fall over he was quick on his feet and stopped her from falling into the snow. Landing on his knees he held her close feeling her trembling unconscious body against his. Her already pale enough skin now looked almost porcelain white, he couldn’t waste any more time; he needed to get her back to the safety of the lab. Adjusting her and picking her up into his arms he made a hasty escape, the two of them wouldn’t have been any help to the traveler in their condition, they would have just gotten in the way.

Thank the archons that he managed to get back to his lab in the cave safely, but this wasn’t the time to take it easy. Quickly but carefully laying Kaiser at a safe distance from the fire he rushed to get the first aid kit and whatever medicine he had on hand that could help with her recovery. Never had he felt this… Frazzled in his life. Albedo was always so calm and collected he usually was always able to think logically, but now his brain was racing. Cleaning and mending her wounds he wrapped her in two layers of blankets that they kept just in case for the nights if anyone was staying for the night to help warm her up. Sitting beside her to observe her condition though so far she was doing well: the color in her skin was slowly coming back, her breathing didn’t seem to be too strained or shallow, and thankfully nothing appeared to be broken though she may have a bruised rib or two at most. Gently running an ungloved hand over her cheek before brushing some of her black locks away from her face. “Oh Katherine, what am I going to do with you,” he softly questioned himself using her actual name; he thought her name was beautiful and befitting of her yet she didn’t agree.

Hours had passed until she finally awoken as a soft groaning escaped her lips. It took her a moment to register where she was as she tried to recall what happened since the last thing she remembered before passing out was a vortex of wind hitting the abyss Herald. “Please refrain from getting up. Your body needs rest, you put yourself under a lot more stress than you should have,” Albedo advised her while walking over to kneel by her to check on her. She didn’t heed his words as she proceeded to carefully sit up feeling the soreness of her body. “Katherine your wounds won’t heal if you don’t take the time to rest.”

“What did I say about using my name?”

“Well you did say that I can be permitted to call you as such when it was just us Katherine,” he said in a matter of fact tone unable to contain the soft sigh. “I hate when you do that,” she said with a soft narrowed look as though she may have sounded annoyed, but it didn’t match the slightly amused expression on her face. A soft chuckle left his lips as he felt a little bit better seeing she wasn’t acting much different from how she usually did so at least that was a good sign. The two ate the meal Albedo cooked for the two of them as he filled her in on what she missed and how he sent the traveler to go ahead back to the headquarters to report what happened to Jean. After having finished eating and her taking medicine the two sat quietly in front of the fire. The only sound to be heard was the crackling of the fire and the whistling of the cold winds outside of the cave.

“You can’t keep doing this,” Albedo’s words breaking the silence between the two, looking over to her with a soft expression. Looking over she raised an eyebrow confused.

“Doing what?”

“Almost getting killed for protecting me.”

“Albedo if I didn’t save you when I did you would have been captured by the abyss order for whatever they’re planning! One thing for sure is that they’d turn you against us,” she rebutted as sure being in dangerous situations was something she was used to before being brought into the Knights of Favonius. “E-Eh, hey wait why are you crying,” she said in a slightly panicked manner as never in the time she’s known him has she seen him cry; actually she was pretty sure that he had just about never cried yet here he was. He hadn’t fully noticed the tears falling from his eyes as he felt a rippling pain in his chest listening to her as the events from earlier replayed in his head.

“Even if they did capture me I’d at least know you were safe. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if that creature had taken or killed you,” he honestly spoke as calmly rubbing one eye and the tears just didn’t seem to stop. Surely he would feel even more guilty if he had been the reason behind her and everyone else he cared about suffered, but he knew if it came to that Albedo had faith that the traveler or Kaiser would stop him. The slight irritation she felt from the conversation at hand subsided while listening to him talk. Letting out a sigh she carefully moved herself before reaching her arms out to grab him as she said, “You idiot, come here.” Hugging him around his neck she held him close as there was a moment of hesitation until he wrapped his arms around her completing the embrace. “Everything is fine now, we’re both alive… I’m sorry that I overdid things again. If I had just listened maybe we wouldn’t have gotten into that mess,” she said, speaking in a much softer tone than her usual cold tone, her face turning a light pink color.

Albedo pulled away to look at his beloved friend who he had come to cherish so much; how the fire gave her a soft orangish red glow to her figure. “It wasn’t your fault, you were just helping me as neither of us knew that attack was going to happen… I really do value the time we get to spend together, so please promise me that you’ll continue to stay by my side,” he spoke freely taking one of her hands into his own feeling the slight roughness of her hand. For someone who almost never made any kind of expression that showed his emotion, the faces he made were pretty cute. “... Yeah, I pinkie promise,” she said letting out a small chuckle before leaning in to give his cheek a kiss before resting her head on his shoulder feeling the tiredness kicking in again.

“A pinkie promise?”

“Hehe, what can I say; us Snezhnayans take our promises very seriously.”

“Is that so? I’d be interested to hear more if you’re willing to share,” he commented as it was comfortable being cuddled up like this by the fire, Albedo found it very pleasant to be this close to the female knight. The rest of the night Kaiser shared the old nursery rhyme and stories of her past along with the things she’s encountered during her travels in the past until the two of them fell asleep in each other's arms.

[prancing-uboot]

Satsuma Dads Timeline

You know how Golden Kamuy is an awesome manga full of amazing (and super-hot) characters and a great main storyline? So what do I do with it? Naturally I obsess over those two old gremlins: Koito Heiji and Hanazawa Koujirou the fathers of Second Lieutenant Koito and Ogata.

It's probably the most niche pairing ever, and I thought it was just me fixating on that one panel where Tsurumi mentioned they were close friends from Satsuma. But the more I read about the history of Satsuma and the times they lived in, the more I’m becoming convinced that there’s so much of their story written between the lines and that their relationship and tumultuous past is what actually caused and keeps together most of the GK plot. But nobody else seems to see it!

So what do I do with that? I spent my nights in front of my crazywall of historical research, trying to recreate an entire universe of events 50-years before the gold plot starts, just to be able to present to you:

The Satsuma Dads Timeline 

or

Why you Should Care for Heiji and Koujirou

~1850

Koujirou and Heiji* were born around 1850** in Kagoshima.

Heiji might have been older then Koujirou, but not more then 5 years. They were both sons of high ranking samurai (noble bloodline), serving the Shimazu clan.

* Most likely they went by other names in their youth and then changed them a bazillion times to make stuff confusing, but let's skip that.

** That would make them around the same age as Tougou Heihachiro and Nogi Maresuke ** - the chief players in the Russo-Japanese war for the navy and army. Both share a lot of biographical motives with Koujirou and Heiji and Noda might have modeled them a bit after them so I'll include the parallels where possible. I'm not sure Nogi even exists in the GK universe or was he replaced by Koujirou completely. Tougou was recently confirmed to exist. He was also a Kagoshima-boy, and grew up in the same circles so it's impossible that he and Heiji didn't know each other from childhood. 

1856-65

Koujirou and Heiji train in the same gochu in Kajiya-cho*. Gochu was a Satsuma-specific education system, relying on small neighborhood study groups in which the older samurai spent a part of their time teaching the younger everything they knew. Starting from penmanship and Confucian doctrines and ending with swordsmanship, and the unstoppable Jigen-ryu.

Teenage Heiji develops a Koito-crush*. on Saigo Takamori (20 years his senior) and follows him around like a lost puppy. Koujirou makes fun of him, but in reality he feels a bit jealous.

* Kajya-cho was a Kagoshima district known now as "Home town of Revitalization" as most of the influential Satsuma leaders of the Meiji Revolution came from there. That also meant that they directly taught the younger generations as part of the gochu. For example Tougou also came from that area. I'm not that sure Heiji and Koujirou were actually from Kajiya-cho, but it being 3km downhill from the Nanshu Cemetary would fit in nicely to the place where Tsurumi and Otonoshin first met so it's likely.

** Gochu was a completely male oriented environment, so homoerotic relations bloomed and were even encouraged (think ancient Greece), hence the term "Satsuma habit" was later used as the synonym of homosexuality in Japan. But for them then it was just a natural thing they sometimes did, and not really an orientation. Koito Otonoshin crushing on Tsurumi might be a bit old fashioned but it's just a Satsuma thing, so of course his dad is cool with that.

1866-67

Both go to Kyoto to serve Hisamitsu Shimazu and there they experience the tension of the Bakumatsu period first hand. They soak up the patriotic moods of the Sonno-Joi fraction, they hear of the the assassinations by the Shinsengumi, they feel a revolution brewing. Being a hot-headed youth in those times made keeping out of trouble very difficult.

1868-69

The Boshin War breaks out. Satsuma, Choshu and Tosa fight to abolish the Tokugawa shogunate. Heiji and Koujirou join up and dispite their young age are given officer commissions*. Coming from a long line of Satsuma’s military commanders it is what they were raised up to do. This war however is nothing like the stories they grew up on. Instead of swords it relies more on modern weapons guns and artillery. What was supposed to be a short battle with the Shogun's forces, turns into a lengthy nationwide campaign of crashing shogunate loyalists long after the Shogun himself resigned. Koujiro and Heiji fight side by side and survive all the way to see the end of it in Hakodate. 

* Only the oficers wore the super cool Satsuma black koguma wigs and I definitely do need fanart of that.

1870

Heiji and Koujiro come out of the war victorious. Most of the positions in the new government are taken by Satsuma and Choshu men, so practically any career path is open to them. Koujiro stays with the Imperial Guard while Heiji joins the Imperial Naval Academy in Tsukiji, Tokyo. They compete for the most ridiculous facial hair* and spend their off nights “drinking green liqueurs under red lanterns”

Ogata's grandfather fought** on the other side for the Mito clan (the last shogun was from the Mito-Tokugawa branch). After the defeat his family falls into poverty. They sell their daughter to an okiya because they cannot support her ***.

* The Haitourei edict from 1871 allowed samurai to cut of their chonmage and encouraged them to experiment with western haircuts.

** I’m guessing he was active in the Boshin by the fact that he had an old gun lying around.

*** This "Ogata's mom comes from a fallen samurai family" theory has been going around but I'm not super sure about the time frame here. Usually maiko get promoted to geisha when they're 20-21. That means to already be a geisha when she gave birth to Hyakunosuke she must have been at least 12 when she was sold. That's quite late for a geisha to start her education. Or I might be wrong about Hyakunosuke's birth date, but I'd really like it to be 1879, so I'm in a pickle here.

1873

Heiji finally finds the guts to propose to Yuki, his Kagoshima sweetheart. They marry and a son is born to them - Heinojou *.

Koujirou's family chooses a wife for him **. She's from a good family, likely Choshu to have some useful connections. Heiji comes to their wedding in his fancy navy uniform to congratulate them and say goodbye. He'll be going to study abroad in the France ***. Koujirou feels like it's his funeral wake.

* Heinojou's birthdate is the first solid date we have for them from the canon, so I'm basing the whole “born in the 1850s” on the fact that the expected age of a man to marry was their early 20s.

** Arranged marriage was the most commonplace in Japan then. The families picked the brides because they were most likely to spend more time with her then the husband, taking care of the house and such. 

*** In 1871 Tougou went to study abroad with 14 other cadets to Greenwich Naval Collage and that would fit so nicely. The problem is that they went 1871-1878 and Heinojou was born in 1873 *shakes fist*. There were also individual exchange programs though and since in canon Heiji is mentioned to have some french friends I figured he was sent to France.

~1876

Koujirou is stationed in Tokyo, while his wife stays in Kagoshima, taking care of the family home. He begins an affair* with Tome**, a geisha from Asaskusa. With Heiji gone she's the only person he can open his heart to.

After abolisment of the clan system and privileges of the samurai, the dissatisfied Satsuma samurai quit the Imperial Guard en-masse and go back to Kagoshima to gather around Saigo Takamori and brew a rebelion. Koujiro - by then a major - is faced with a choice: to go back with his childhood friends, or to stay loyal to the government. He chooses his career.  

* I'm guessing he must have been married already when the thing started, because marrying a geisha wasn't that unheard of and wouldn't really cause a scandal or hinder his career. All three of the Meiji prime ministers Hirobumi Ito, Taro Katsura and Yamagata Aritomo ended up marrying geisha. So Tome being a geisha was not a problem - Koujiro already having a wife was.

** Tome is a random name that Ogata used in his Sugimoto self insert fic. I love the headcanon that it's his mom's name. Because of course he makes everything personal.

1877

In January the Seinan War breaks out. Koujirou fights against his clansmen and his former war comrades *. By September most of them are dead. He is there at Shiroyama where Saigo makes his last stand. Heiji is never going to forgive him that.

When he comes back to Tokyo, Tome doesn't ask, she understands and prepares him angler nabe while he sulks.

* Koujirou's situation is by no means an unusual one. Many of the Satsuma samurai landed lucrative jobs under the new administration and didn't share the dissatisfaction of their disenfranchised clansmen. Even Saigo's own younger brother Judo stayed as a lieutenant-general in the Imperial Guard.

1878

In May, Okubou Toshimichi, the lord of home affairs, who took personal command of surpressing  Saigo's rebelion is assasinated, branded in Satsuma as traitor.

Koujiro is not welcome in Kagoshima anymore*. His wife moves to Tokyo to avoid harassment. Keeping his affair with Tome is becoming more difficult. Especially when he learns that Tome is pregnant **

In December Heiji comes back to pick up the pieces.

* Both Okubo and Saigo Judo moved their families to Tokyo because of this situation, so I'm guessing that was a thing. They received some backlash from their compatriots but eventually things normalized (for Judo at least, because Okubo was, you know, slashed up dead in an alley). By 1898 Saigo was acknowledged by the government as a tragic hero and bygones were bygones. Yet Heiji still talks with the Satsuma dialect, while Koujiro doesn’t even have a trace of it left.I wonder if he still used it when talking to Heiji.

** Geisha were not supposed to have sex with their patrons. The fact that she chose to give birth to Koujirou's son tells that she dared to hope that he'll at least acknowledge him.

1879

In January Hyakunosuke is born*

* Ogata's birthdate is a shot in the dark. He could be anywhere between 1878 and 1883. I just really like the idea that he was born right into the middle of such a chaos.

EDIT: GoldenKamuyHunting pointed out that Ogata had to be born after 1881, since Noda placed him as Older than Usami. This ruins the timeline a bit, and I’ll have to think of the way to reorder it to fit. For now, treat the 1879 as canon-defying :(

~1881

After pressure from his parents and from Heiji, Koujirou comes clean and learns to make his official family work. Koujirou's legitimate son, Yuusaku is born*. 

From now on he effectively ghosts Tome. Her mental health** begins to waver. Tome quits being a geisha and moves back to her parents in Ibaraki ***. 

* Also a shot in the dark. This would make him 23 when he died and 2 years younger than Ogata.

** Before the 20th century the white makeup geisha wore was made out of lead, making them more likely to develop lead poisoning, the first symptom of which is the decline of intelectual ability. Fun fact: lead gets passed down in breastmilk in quantities super-harmful for the baby, so if we go with the theory "Tome went crazy because of lead poisoning" than that would explain so much about Ogata...

*** This is likely due to her health, not due to giving birth. She could have just sent Hyakunosuke to her parents and kept working. God knows how they made ends meet after that. Before they were be so poor that they had to sell their daughter. Now they were much older, she was sick and unable to work, and her child was another mouth to feed. Not to mention the cost geisha education was worse then US collage loans so she most likely had a large debt she barely started to repay. Was Koujiro at least decent enough to pay child-support? Oh god *realises* it was Heiji who was paying them, wasn’t it? *heart breaks*

1886

Heiji and Yuki's second son, Otonoshin is born, 13 years after the first. What's up with that, Heiji?

1887

Koujirou goes to Germany* to study military tactics.

Hyakunosuke (8) feeds his mother rat poison. Koujirou doesn't come to the funeral.

As a result Hyakunosuke is brought up by his grandparents alone. He likes his grandma. They might instill in him the same kind of dislike for the new government as in the case of Kadokura. They definitely install a dislike for his deadbeat dad.

* Japan sent most of the promising officers abroad to soak up the knowledge how to run a modern nation. The army was mostly modeled after Germany (the Japanese were impressed by their recent victory against France) so it's the safest bet that Koujirou went to study there sometime in his life. In 1887-88 Nogi and Soroku Kawakami were sent to Germany. So it still depends if Nogi exists in GK universe and Koujirou just tagged along with them, or are they completely interchangeable.

1888

A new division is formed in Hokkaido. Tasked with guarding the north and developing the land.

1889

Heinojou (16) passes the Naval Academy entry exams with highest marks, determined to follow the footsteps of his father.

1894-95

The first Sino-Japanese war breaks out.

Heiji and Heinojou take part in the Battle of Yalu River. Heinojou is stationed on the flagship Matsushima under admiral Ito Sukeyuki. Matsushima gets badly damaged. 57 men die (including three officers) and 54 more are wounded.

Heiji silently watches his son burning from his ship. Comes back a wreck of a man. Gets awarded a title of Baron under the kazoku system *.

No clue what Koujirou could have been doing then. It’s likely that he was part of the army that conquered Port Arthur (back than still called Lushunkou) the first time around in only 3 days **.

* I need to double-check that with the raws since I'm not sure Tsurumi calling him "lord" is meant to imply he had a noble title, or if it's just a honorific. Many of admirals had titles so it would be highly likely someone with a lineage and a service record like Heiji also got one.

** this experiance would make him a pefect choice for later leading the operation in 1904 so this would make a lot of sense, but it would also be a pretty heavy take, since that would mean he was present during the Port Arthur masacre. And as a senior officer too, so it’s hard to find any excuses for him if that was the case. Did witnessing the atrocities there influence his later opposition to the Japanese expansion into Manchuria? Was his instruction for Yuusaku not to kill anyone motivated by trying to protect his son from sharing his guilt?

1895

Tsurumi comes back from the war and joins the 7th (actually more like he’s demoted out of the 2nd). By then Koujirou is the head of the division *

* I’m guessing Tsurumi had to have enough time to work on him, to be able to learn all about the Koito family troubles and come up with the plan how to use them. Did he get into Koujirou’s confidence? Or was he just reading his private letters?

1900

Heiji stays in Kagoshima and spoils/neglects his second son. Tsurumi "accidentally" meets Otonoshin and they visit Saigo's and Heinojou's graves.

Later that year the whole Koito family moves to Hakodate and Heiji takes control of the Ominato torpedo division *.

* The Ikazuki was a new class of light destroyers specifically made not to repeat the tragedy of too large and too slow Matsushima. No wonder Heiji was willing to move across the country for that.There were 6 of them made in total. Cool factoid: One of those destroyers sunk after a crash with a civilian steamship off the coast of Hokkaido in 1909.

1902

Ogata (24) joins the army and specifically volunteers for the 7th division planning god-knows-what. By conscription he would have landed in the 2nd (Kantou region). 

Koujirou doesn't acknowledge him. Tsurumi does.

The Great Hakodate kidnapping takes place. Koujiro sends his best intelligence officer from Tsukisappu to help his friend and keep things discreet. Afterwards Heiji learns to appreciate the son he has left.

Later that year Otonoshin passes the exam to join the Army acedemy.

Fresh out of the academy Yuusaku (21) joins the 7th division. His father, plagued with guilt and bad life choices instructs him not to kill people and not to sleep around.

Yuusaku meets Hyakunosuke. Hyakunosuke tries to get him to kill people and sleep around.

1904-05

The Russo-Japanese war.

In February the war starts with Japan launching night torpedo attacks on the Russian fleet stationed inside Port Arthur. Heiji leads the third destroyer squadron aboard the Sazanami*. They continue the attacks over the next months trying to impose a blockade. After the Battle of the Yellow Sea, the victorious Japanese Combined Fleet effectively traps the remaining Russian warships inside Port Arthur. The Russians can't get out, the Japanese can't get in. Heiji can only wait and watch as the Japanese Army struggles to capture Port Arthur by land.

Koujirou leaves the 7th division behind when he is promoted to a member of staff of General Nogi’s 3rd Army. They land in Incheon in April and reach Port Arthur in August to start the siege. It is a drawn out blood bath. After wasting tons of lives in pointless assaults, the Japanese realize quite late that the key to victory lies in capturing the 203 Hill overlooking the harbor. Koujirou is made chief of staff for this operation.

In October they get the news that the Russian Baltic Fleet has left Tallinn and is on its way to reinforce the besieged Pacific Fleet. The race starts. If Koujirou fails to capture the hill before the Baltic Fleet arrives, the Japanese Fleet will be annihilated, and Heiji along with it.

In November the 7th division arrives in Port Arthur. They don’t get special treatment from their former commander and they’re sent head first to the 203 Hill. They capture it on 5th December, only after the artillery stopped caring weather they hit their own or not**. From their new position they destroy the whole Pacific fleet.

The death toll is 80 000 soldiers. More than half of the 7th is gone. Among the fallen are second lieutenants Hanazawa Yuusaku and Nogi Yasusuke - general Nogi's only remaining son (the first one died earlier in the same war).***

Hyakunosuke thinks that the losses wouldn't have to be this high if they just had more snipers like him. But nobody listened.

*  All of the Ikazuki-class destroyers were quite active during the war. I placed Heiji on the Sazanami just because there’s the most info about what she did and when.

** The winning strategy was implemented by Kodama Gentarou. He was sent to Port Arthur with the authority to replace Nogi. He had enough guts to sacrifice soldiers falling to friendly fire in one coordinated assault instead of bleeding them out by continuous suicidal frontal assaults. He didn't officially replace Nogi though, and he let him take the credit for the victory, because they were friends. It's a really cool story.

*** Interesingly enough Yasusuke, was also shot in the back of his head. His father when he saw his body asked only “Was it after he had completed his task, or was it before?”

1905

The 7th move on to Mukden. Koujirou and Nogi along with them. 

In May the Baltic Fleet arrives. Without Port Arthur, they try to get to Vladivostok to resupply. Tougou's fleet intercepts them in the Tsushima strait and despite their smaller number, crushes them decisively. Heiji's destroyer Sazanami, captures the destroyer Buyini with the wounded admiral Zinovy Rozhestvensky **. 

In September the Treaty of Portsmouth is signed. The Trans-Manchurian Railway gets handed off to the Japanese. Later Koujirou strongly opposes the plan to develop it ***.

** Heiji's torpedo division was also responsible to delivering the finishing blow to the flagship Knyaz Suarov. Later this was written on Knyaz Suarov's last moments "While she had a gun above water she fired, and not a man survived her of all that crew, to whose stubborn gallantry no words can do justice. If there is immortality in naval memory it is hers and theirs". Gives me the chills.

*** Did he see that it would lead to more war? Mantetsu was the reason behind the Manchurian Incident in 1931 and later for the breakout of the second Sino-Japanese war, where a really ugly face of Japanese imperialism saw the light of day. So, was Koujirou a good guy all along? This I hope will be explained in the manga.

1906

In January Nogi returns to give a victory report to the Emperor *.

Koujirou "commits seppuku" by his son's hand. "Writes" a sappy goodbye letter to Heiji (probably also by Ogata's hand).

Heiji gets seduced by his son's dashing young commander and does some stupid-treasonous things for him, convinced that Central Command was to blame for pushing Koujirou to suicide.

In November Mantetsu is established.

* Nogi breaks down while making the report and asks to be allowed to commit seppuku for allowing such high casualties. The Emperor forbids him. Nogi waits 7 years until the Emperor dies and commits seppuku on the day of his funeral.

Disclaimers

I would say half of this consists of what already is in GK canon (even if it’s written between the lines) or history. The other half are my free guesses for what I personally think would make a better story ;)

I tried and tried to do thorough research, but in the end I’m just a humble fangirl, and not a historian, so if there’s something I got wrong, missed or misinterpreted please correct me - learning history is a never-ending story.

Sorry for linking directly to the scanlations. Support the manga by buying the volumes if you can.

This list will most likely be growing since I will eventually figure out what Koujirou did during the Sino-Japanese war, and I’m only starting digging in to the details of the Boshin War, so I’m sure I’ll expand upon that.

If anyone ever wants to use this information for a fic, please do. Copy it all if you want to. I don’t mind the slightest. I’ll love you to pieces for writing anything for them at all!

[nissakii]

"You can be a hero!" - The Strongest Hero BNHA Game Review

We’re so used to watching our favorite characters fight their battles and anime as we cheer them on relentlessly. We are always on the sidelines and hope they succeed in their endeavors, but we are never in the stories ourselves.

That has now changed with the new mobile game that came out recently based on the popular anime Boku no Hero Academia by Kohei Horiskoshi.

Welcome to: Boku no Hero Academia - The Strongest Hero.

Today, a week after the global release of the game, having played a little and explored some of its features, we will dive into what the game brings to the table, the mechanics of it and what you can expect!

Makii and I worked together on this, especially since we are both fans of BNHA and love to delve deep into these kinds of reviews.

So to start off, this game has had its global release on the 19th of May 2021 and was published by Sony Pictures Television for the US and by A PLUS JAPAN for the EU already on the 18th of the same month.

Many people have pre-registered for the game release beforehand in hopes of snagging rewards, and only quickly enough the first million downloads were established in a matter of days. No wonder at all, since BNHA is one of the most popular new generation anime. There is a huge fan base surrounding it who are eager to play the game.

Before the global release was initiated, it was released by the chinese studio Xin Yuan on December 3rd 2020, which resulted in many people using VPNs and emulators to experience the charm of ‘The Strongest Hero’. No wonder the game downloads skyrocketed when it was released globally in english (more languages such as german and french coming soon), it was recorded that the players had problems getting into overloaded servers, but those problems were quickly managed.

If you have no idea what the anime or manga of BNHA is about but are still interested, let me give you a quick synopsis.

In a world where 80% of the population are born with mutant abilities called “Quirks”, the job of the superhero became more than just a fantasy in comics. Now, the police are second rate as everyone looks up to the heroes who support and save the world.

Izuku Midoriya, also known by his nickname ‘Deku’, is one of the few Quirkless humans but still admires hero-work like nobody else.

Until one day the tables turn and he ends up with his own new power, now ready to go to renowned U.A. highschool for heroes to become what he always wanted to be: someone who saved lives with a smile on his face.

Now in this game, you are the one who steps into the shoes of a young aspiring hero who wants to climb up the ladder of success and defeat all villains in your way while protecting your people.

Are you stoked now? Let’s find out more!

The Game:

Advertised as an action MMO-RPG, The Strongest Hero brings not only one but multiple different player modes that you can enjoy alone or with friends online!

Firstly, it’s an immersive story-telling game that lets you relive the actual plot of the anime Boku no Hero Academia so spoiler alert for the ones who haven’t watched it yet, this game will be dealing with the Deku’s story throughout it all.

It starts off with the first episode of the anime, showing us recaps and recreations of the anime but in the game-animation with small bits of interaction to refresh our memory on the fateful incidents that made Deku a true hero. With this retelling of the story, avid watchers of the anime can enjoy everything again from a new perspective, and new people with no knowledge of BNHA can still enjoy the game just as much.

It was even mentioned that the story campaign will be dealing with the contents of season one to three so far, with more already in planning.

So the developers made sure that the game is not only catered to its original fanbase, but to everybody out there!

Now with Deku as the first person you play as, we fast forward to Izuku who is more advanced in his skill set, as he already uses his original ‘shoot-style’ and One for All Full Cowling. You’re now a provisional Hero who just got his license, working for your own agency and completing missions all around town, meaning there is a little skip between the beginning of the game and where you actually start in Honei City.

The open-world is huge and leaves all sorts of possibilities to explore as you not only defeat villains, but also talk to the citizens and maybe even collect trash to fulfill your duty as a hero. Not only Deku is at your disposal, but currently a lot of other class 1-A students will soon fall into your hands! As Toshinori was released as a hero in the last update on May 26th we can assume that there are more to come.

Game modes:

Single player: As previously mentioned, the game will immediately lead you through the single player story campaign, as you try to keep the city safe and sound by defeating villains and completing missions.

There are next to the main-story missions the daily missions in which you ensure the city’s prosperity to get more rewards daily.

With this mode you can play with a multitude of skills and combos and the handling on the phone is very pleasant. With a left joystick on the touchscreen and skill buttons on the right you can activate the swift and powerful attacks that we already know from the anime.

There are also multiple things to do as a single-player as you can collect your daily supplies in several missions which you will need for training your hero, enhancing your gear and more limited to 20 runs for each supply with several difficulties.

Hero trials, commissions and even more features are all available despite being alone keeping you busy for a while, as some don’t even need stamina to fulfill since stamina limits the player in the missions they can do.

And if that is all too much action you can simply explore the city on your own and search for special items on your way.

This is extremely interesting for the ones who like to play at their own pace and alone to enjoy a mix of story-telling and hack n slash combat.

PvP: Contrary to the first mode, if you’re more interested in actually playing against others, ‘The Strongest Hero’ won’t disappoint in its Player vs. Player mode.

Even here we have multiple ways to play, as the Arena takes on a more classic 1 vs 1 feel in which you can defeat other players similar to other fighting-games, or the Super Co-Op battle which allows you to play 3 vs 3.

Soon we will also know what the mysterious War Zone Co-Op entails, as that feature is still to be launched.

Other Co-Op features are also the Agency assessment, the joint operation and Emergency.

Emergency shows us more of the work of a hero, in which you suddenly trigger an event that is of urgent matter and has to be completed with a team of other players quickly. Time runs out, and it is all about the true work of a hero where you have to act quick!

There is truly something for everyone in here

Not just an MMO:

Truly, this game is a lot more than just an MMO, even though its open-world is a huge part of it all.

To get your preferred heroes and play them, the game has a gacha system in place for you to pull for your luck!

Deku is in the player’s repertoire from the start, and his skill-set is very dynamic and swift with less damage but a lot more speed. His comments are just as loud as in the anime, and if that doesn’t give you any satisfaction do not worry! Every hero has his own fighting style and can be explored by playing the missions in which you will quickly deploy Denki Kaminari and Kirishima Eijiro.

The game differs between three types of heroes: Speed, Power and Technical as the three examples Deku, Kirishima and Denki already represent each respectively.

There is also knowledge that there will be Pro-heroes and even some villain characters in the mix.

The skills range extremely from heavy handed to swift or long to short range attacks. Just as varied as the fighting style is, we have beautiful animations that display the Quirks and many possibilities to use them.

Done with all the fighting? Look at the adorable dorm feature in which you can earn more stamina and organize a dorm room for your heroes. You can even make their chibi-versions run around in that room and catch a break from all the hero work.

Although the story might pester you with it’s orange glowing button in the upper right corner, you can just ignore everything and explore the gorgeously crafted open world environment(in most cases).

Yes, you can even walk up buildings!

Of course there is an autofinding feature to briskly get you to where your missions lead you, but if you so desire you can look at the urban starting world and walk around.

Since everyone else will have Deku as their first hero as well, it is incredibly amusing to see all the other Deku's running about.

The starting setting is true to the anime and shows us urban and modern Japan, with a strong hint of technological advancement.

The preset graphics on SD will give you the ability to walk around smoothly, but if your phone can take it, I urge you to at least try to up the graphics to a better resolution. The scenery is truly mesmerizing, and the art style as well as the visual effects have a huge appeal.

It’s even nicer to look at for the ones who haven’t seen enough of the BNHA universe in the anime, because now there are an abundance of regions to explore and the developers have made sure to give us a lot of eye candy.

“You” can be a Hero!:

After all this technical talk, why should you play this game?

First of all, from what I have witnessed as an excited anime watcher and manga reader, the story is catered to include the player.

It’s a lot more different than just watching Deku go through the world, you are actually responsible for how the mission turns out. It’s exhilarating to see characters from the anime like Kamui Woods and Mt.Lady talk to you and ask for help, as they are characters we didn’t see all that much in the anime. It gives the impression to be needed and included which is a great asset!

A hero doesn’t stray away from any work, so yes you will have to pick up trash from time to time or just talk to people to assess situations! Still, there are a lot of cameos of other characters like Hatsume Mei who takes care of your support gear.

Second of all, there is a lot of freedom for you.

From all the different game modes and mechanics to the story and even the split up Co-Op modes, you will have a lot of possibilities to explore and find why you want to play the game.

One thing is for certain, the gameplay has something for everyone and gives adequate rewards to you for every mission or task you clear. Features get unlocked gradually through playing the story and leveling up, which keeps the player on their toes.

One mission quickly leads to another, and it seems there is no end to what you can do, especially in the beginning of the game.

Sadly, that is also one of the drawbacks I will have to mention.

Due to the immense freedom and possibilities, the game bombards you with a lot of information. As a first time player, it’s probably that you will get overwhelmed by the forceful approach of the tutorial, but after a while it definitely gets a lot better in my opinion.

My personal highlights are the gacha system as I love to collect and work to pull my favorite characters, the story as a fan of the franchise and the co-op because I love to play the game with friends. So far I haven’t had the ability to actually play with others, but from what I’ve seen it all has a lot of potential.

Even though we’re talking about a free-to-play game, since stamina is one of the necessities to play missions etc, it is very scarce and often drives one to want to buy it, which is why the game leans towards a pay-to-win game. Still, with a bit more patience and some hard work everything is playable for free.

All in all, I shall conclude that The Strongest Hero is an honest and great attempt at making an anime based game which held a lot of expectations from the fanbase.

The immersive factors are amazing, the animations are top tier and the possibilities seem endless. At the end of the day it’s a game that is playable regardless of how much time you have due to the auto-play-function in many features and can be enjoyed in your personal way.

I hope you enjoyed our take on reviewing the game and give it a shot! If you have played it already or are planning to, please leave your personal impressions in the comments!

What a Co-Op teatime! Hope to see you again!

SUUMASHU!!

-Nissa & Makii

[monstersandmaw]

Male changeling fae (Mhorrin) x male reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

So some of you have waited over a year for Mhorrin’s story. I promised someone a long time ago that Mhorrin’s reader would be male, but mostly (as always really with my readers), they’re fairly neutral except for the odd pronoun or body part...

I really hope you enjoy this one - it’s one of my favourites I think, and Mhorrin is a sweetheart who deserves some love. I had a lovely patron who wanted to commission me to write his story, and when I said that a long time ago I'd promised Mhorrin a male reader, they said that was fine, so here it is! I'm pretty proud of this one, and I really hope you enjoy it.

There’s a fight with a big spider at one point, so arachnophobes might not like that bit so much, and a few descriptions of injury, but not life-threatening, and not to the reader. Also Bridget likes to curse a bit. I like Bridget. :)

Wordcount: 10,064

---

Why was it always bloody raining in these parts? Sheets of drenching grey drizzle drifted across the landscape from a low, oppressive sky, and the thick canopy of trees barely offered any real shelter. Heavy drops spattered down from above with almost the force of falling acorns, and sent the decaying leaf mould leaping and scattering.  

Kicking idly at a fallen branch that lay across your path, you scowled as you tramped onwards through another patch of quagmire. Apparently there had once been a half-decent road winding its way between the huge trunks of ancient trees, their bark smothered with thick moss and laced with lichens, branches dripping with ferns and orchids, but now it was little more than a muddy ribbon rutted with potholes and puddles. Ahead and to your right, you could just glimpse the wide, lazy river sliding along between slick, muddy banks just to the south of the approaching town, and you turned your leather collar up further to ward off the fat drops which plummeted from the canopy overhead.

A collection of wooden houses with patchy thatched roofs, composed more of moss than reed, huddled miserably outside the colossal stones of the town’s wall, but hardly anyone was about in this weather. Even the chickens had given up their scratching in the mud. A huge, dark minotaur ducked briefly out of a doorway and glowered up at the small shred of grey sky visible between the branches before grunting something in disgust and slamming the door shut, leaving you to make your solitary way towards the wooden gates of the town. The pair of human guards barely even seemed to notice you as you struggled through the sludge towards them.

Inside the town walls the place was hardly any cheerier or more welcoming than outside. Despite the rain, however, there were a few vendors standing beneath ragged canvases, hawking their wares to those who scuttled by searching for shelter not trinkets, and in the distance a smith’s hammer could be heard ringing on iron. Other towns you’d passed through had bustled with life but this place seemed to be made up almost entirely of humans; any non-humans you saw were scowled at in a way that made you jumpy and wary. There wasn’t a pleasant feeling to this place at all.

A dwarf stumped past you with eyes focused firmly on the distance, heading towards the blacksmith’s, but as you pushed open the door of the first inn you came to, you saw a massive orc behind the bar which reassured you somehow.

The orc nodded at you as you approached and grunted, “Keep your weapons sheathed in here, human, you’re welcome to drink. What can I get you?”

“An ale,” you said, “And a bath.”

“The house ale is a copper,” he said. “The bath is six.”

Too tired and foot-sore to haggle, you nodded.

“Drink up, and I’ll have the bath drawn for you,” the orc grinned, clearly noticing the weariness soaking through your body now that you’d stopped walking. He was huge, with arms easily twice as big as your thighs, and one of his thick tusks had been cracked off, but his yellow-eyed gaze was friendly enough and he waved over a curvy human woman who greeted him with a kiss before letting him speak, which he did with a fond chuckle.

You took yourself off to a quiet corner of the nearly-empty inn, and groaned noisily as you eased your sore shoulders out of the travel pack and your wet leather and mail jerkin. You’d been wearing it for nearly a month solid as you’d moved steadily west in search of… something. Sure, you needed the work, but you could have joined the army if it was steady pay and a meal in your belly that you’d truly been looking for. Your journey had been about something more than that though. Shivering slightly as you sank onto the cool wood of the corner bench, you wondered if perhaps you’d find whatever it was that you were lacking here, in this formerly-prosperous trading town on the banks of a silted up river.

Somehow you doubted it.

Once you’d bathed and changed into the last of your relatively clean clothes, you returned to the bar and asked the orc if he knew of any employment for a young man of considerable skill with a bow and blade, though you didn’t own the former currently. The orc eyed you up and down, clearly getting the measure of you, and then shrugged. “There’s a bunch of mercenaries in the outer buildings,” he said, jutting his heavy jaw towards the direction of the huts outside the walls of the town. “Five of them: a big human woman, elven twins, a minotaur, and… something else. Not sure what he is. Only met them all the once, you see. Still, they might take you on if you’re any good.”

“Thanks,” you said. “I can ask at any rate.”

The rain had miraculously eased up just a little but you still donned your trusty - and now probably a little rusty - mail and leather jerkin once again, and headed out in search of the group. You’d arranged to leave your pack in the care of the orc at the inn for the moment, in case the mercenaries weren’t looking for another blade for hire.

It didn't take you long to find them. With the cessation of the rain, folks had started to emerge from the huts you’d passed on your way in, and outside the one where you’d seen the minotaur, you found two elves, a tall, beautiful woman with short chestnut hair and a scar across her lips, and the one the orc had called ‘something else’. It was immediately obvious why he’d said as much; the creature gave off a strange, almost otherworldly feeling that sent shivers down your spine if you looked at him too long.

He stood tall at over six foot, with a hunched, misshapen back over which he had draped a long leather cloak that came down almost to the mud of the road. He appeared to have the legs of an animal with long, black claws that flexed as he stood there, though his skin was hairless and an odd, almost slate coloured blue-grey. His hands, you saw as he reached to pass one of his companions their travel pack, were mottled with paler grey and he had two thumbs and long, strong-looking fingers. Covering his elongated - perhaps canine? - face was a carved wooden mask, and his hair was black as an oil slick; long, plaited, and falling to his waist.

The minotaur was nowhere to be seen now.

Approaching with your palms open and empty, showing no threat, you called out to them, “Hey, you guys are a mercenary group, right?”

The elves looked up as one and nodded, but it was the human woman who answered. By the gods she was muscular, and you didn't mind admitting that she was more than a little intimidating. “Why, you got a job for us?” she asked, looking you up and down in the same way the orc had. You where more lithe than muscular yourself, but years on the road had made you lean and solid in a way that other warriors and fighters usually weren’t. Not that you didn’t have your softer areas too though.

“Actually,” you smiled, “I’m hoping you’ve got a job for me. Any chance you’re looking to take on an extra blade?”

She glared at the sword on your hip and pouted, unimpressed, one eyebrow sailing high and placing one hand on her hip before looking at the other two, who shrugged. Somehow it seemed like an encouraging kind of shrug, and you nibbled your chapped lip while you waited for her to answer.

“Alright,” she said with a beautifully feral grin. “If you can best me with a blade, we’ll see about taking you on for a contract or two.”

That hadn’t been quite what you’d expected, but you supposed she had a point. “What are the terms of the fight?” you asked, rolling your shoulders out. You suddenly felt very grateful for the good work that the heat of the bath had done to ease out the stiffness from hauling your travel pack around.

“First to draw blood wins,” she said. “No intent to kill, maim, or seriously injure. We’re doing it properly, but this is sparring only.”

You nodded and drew steel. “Agreed.”

She grinned and her honey coloured eyes lit up as the two of you began to spar. She was strong but slower than you, and the two of you danced, circling each other in the mud of the street while the twins and the strange, silent one looked on from the shelter of the dripping eaves of the nearest hut.

In the end, you beat her with a well timed dart to the upper arm, but only just, and she sheathed her huge two-hander and held out her gauntleted hand to you, ignoring the small ooze of blood through her shirt sleeve. “Welcome. Name’s Bridget,” she said as she nearly crushed your hand in her fingers, making you rather wheeze your own name as you introduced yourself. “These two idiots are Elduin and Luirlan -” the two elves grinned and held out their hands.

Their palms were as rough and callused as your own, indicating that they preferred blade to bow - unusual for their kind, but not unheard of - and they had both cropped their brown hair short along one side, revealing their tapering ears. Luirlan had a scar through one eyebrow and a notch missing from the tip of his left ear, and Elduin had a leaf and vine tattoo that ran up his neck and onto his scalp, but other than that, they were utterly identical.

Bridget went on to say that the minotaur was named Ned, but he’d gone to have a nap ‘like a fucking old man’ and had therefore missed all the excitement - “His loss,” she grinned - and the final member of their group she introduced as Mhorrin. The figure, swathed in his heavy leather cloak, simply nodded without approaching, bowing his mysteriously masked head before turning away and returning his attention to repacking his bag.

Swallowing, you hoped that the others would balance out the relative creepiness of Mhorrin, and that you hadn’t made a mistake in joining them. Still, it had to be better than going it alone anyway.

Just after sunrise the next day, you joined them at the city gates, and the small mercenary company moved on in search of new work. Ned quickly found a contract about seven miles further west along the road. The job involved eradicating a small nest of demon-spawn that had been terrorising travellers along the King’s Road, eating them and disembowelling everyone they came across.

The nest was apparently located a short distance back from the road towards some mineral springs, and the elves and Ned soon tracked it down to a dank hollow between two huge sycamore trees. You and Bridget stalked closer, while Mhorrin drew his huge, cruel bow from his stooped back and hung a little way behind on the lip of the dell with an arrow nocked, flights to cheek, ready to loose. The strength in his wiry arms must have been prodigious because he never shook or trembled. Only a few days ago you’d seen him hunting rabbits with unfaltering accuracy, so you weren’t surprised when he aimed a deadly pine arrow straight past Ned’s ear, sinking it deep into the chitinous plating of the first creature to emerge from its festering burrow in the ground. The creature was dead before it had gone a single pace from the entrance.

The demon-spawn were vile, spewing acid and darting forwards to lash out with their serrated claws, but you and Ned cornered the second, while the twins finished of a third, and Bridget hacked another to pieces under a rain of arrows from Mhorrin. You’d just lowered your sword, the steel dripping with the viscera and slime from your own kill, your arm stinging from a light spattering of acid, when you saw one last demon-spawn scuttling down the rough surface of a tree behind Mhorrin.

“Mhorrin! Above you on that sycamore!” you yelled, and he ducked and rolled out of the way just in time for you to hurl your long belt knife at it, striking it in the chest and pinning it to the bark like a three foot long, toxic beetle in a gruesome collection. The creature’s stinger had missed him by inches and still hung in the space where his head had been, dripping onto the forest floor.

“Thank you,” he murmured, checking that the curved, wooden mask was still in place with his odd, grey-skinned, twin-thumbed hand. It was a graceful hand, with long fingers that spoke of strength and cleverness as well as the calm control of a bowman, and you stared at it for a moment longer while he listened carefully to the forest around you.

“Phew,” Bridget grunted from not far away, wiping her own zweihänder on a clump of thick grass at the base of an oak tree. “Think that’s the last of them. Those were some freaky motherfuckers… Everyone alright?”

“Yeah,” came the reply from Ned and the twins. You were a little breathless and a bit scuffed, but otherwise ok, and Mhorrin only nodded.

“You want to check out the thermal springs that these fuckers have stopped everyone visiting?” Bridget asked with a playful glint in her hazel eyes. “We’ll have it to ourselves before the hoards start moving back in!”

Everyone agreed, though with varying degrees of enthusiasm, and once you’d torched and sealed the nests and burrows, the troop moved off through the trees to the nearby springs.

While Ned practically bombed his way in, sending hot water splashing everywhere, closely followed by Bridget in just her underwear and chest wrappings, the twins were a little more demure, and you followed last. The water was deliciously warm, though it smelled quite pungently of minerals, and you groaned as you lay back and ducked your head under the water, washing out the sweat and grime from the fight. Mhorrin, it turned out, had no intention of bathing with everyone, and only washed his hands and feet carefully in the edge of the shallowest pond before retreating to a quiet rock a little way off.

As Ned resurfaced, huffing and blowing spray like a buffalo, you shot Mhorrin a curious look as his figure retreated, and asked Ned in a hushed whisper, “So… uh, what’s the deal with Mhorrin? I’ve been with you a week and he’s hardly said a word…”

“Keeps himself to himself mostly,” the gregarious minotaur shrugged. His thick, black hair was already curling wildly, and he had drops like diamonds on his thick eyelashes. “You got any more questions though, I suggest you ask him.”

“Fair enough,” you said. Of course, his answer had done nothing to quell the curiosity that was quickly blossoming inside you. Swathed constantly in that thick, leather coat, careful with all his movements, masked and distinctly ‘different’, Mhorrin was a mystery to you. While you weren’t generally one to pry, you couldn’t help the desire to get to know him at least, but it seemed that the strange being - you didn’t even know what he was - kept his cards tight to his chest.

As you swam across the deep pond, however, you rolled over and noticed that Mhorrin’s gaze appeared to be locked on your body as you slid through the water. Resting your feet on the bottom of the rocky pool, you stood, chest half out of the chalky blue water, and called out to him, “Hey, Mhorrin! You not coming in?”

You actually had yet to hear him speak more than a few words to anyone, but he surprised you with a full sentence as he drew his thick cloak more tightly about himself and said, “I don’t think it would be as pleasurable as you imagine, human. But thank you all the same.” Behind the mask, his voice was rough and rasping, deep, and his words were quietly and almost gently articulated, as though he had large teeth to work his tongue carefully around.

“Fair enough,” you said again, backing off, but you still felt the slight sting of disappointment anyway.

As the weeks slid by into months and you travelled further with this group of blades for hire, you began to feel at home in the rather odd family. Bridget was loud and brusque, but she had a tender heart, and you realised she was easily hurt by comments tossed her way in taverns along the road. Ned did his best to tell them all to fuck off, but you soon discovered that, despite her closeness to the minotaur, it was you with whom she found a scrap of comfort with on evenings by the campfire when the others were bedding down. Perhaps it was easier to bare her heart to a relative stranger. Either way, you liked her and you let her.

“I’ve always been too big and too strong,” she snorted on one such night when you’d passed through a town and she’d had comments tossed her way - this time about being part ogre. Ned’s earth-shattering snores already drowned out the crickets in the grasses, and the elves were quietly occupied a bit further from the fire, talking quietly in their own language.

Taking a sip from your wineskin, you crooked your elbow over your knee and leaned forwards. “No such thing as too big or too strong,” you grinned, hoping to lift her spirits.

Mhorrin was sitting not far away, whittling a forest creature out of a stick of firewood, and the steady scratching of his blade against the wood slowed as you spoke, though you pretended not to notice.

“If you weren’t how you are, you wouldn’t  be able to protect the people you care about. Plus, I now know first hand that you give great hugs.”

She smiled and leaned back on her hands, her body going taut for a moment as she stretched out along the warmth of the fire. She crossed her feet at the ankle and shot you a sidelong glance. “You know,” she said, “If I didn’t already know that you like men more than women, I’d think you’re making a move on me.” She grinned playfully and you laughed, pleased that her mood was lightening a little.

Her words made your eyes and thoughts drift once again to Mhorrin. His back was hunched high over his right shoulder as he sat on the edge of the ring of firelight, and his almost animal-like legs were folded beneath him. Swathed in that cloak of his and masked as he was, you knew almost nothing more about him after those first few months than you had in your first week with the company.

You recalled your gaze and turned it back to Bridget. “Yeah, true,” you chuckled, scrubbing at the scruff on your chin with a scar-knuckled hand. “Well, I’m just showing my new friend the love she deserves. You’re gorgeous. Anyway,” you added with a snort, “You like pretty little elven women yourself, so I think any attempts at flirting from me would fall on deaf ears…”

She leaned over and gently smacked your upper arm with the backs of her fingers. It was a friendly, affectionate kind of tap, and you shivered slightly at the warmth of the unexpected touch. “Appreciate it,” she said, not appearing to notice your reaction. “I love this bunch of idiots so much, and I’m glad you stuck around too.”

With a wonky grin, you laughed and lay back, staring up at the sky above with your arms behind your head for a pillow. You drew a deep sigh that filled your lungs completely, and then let it go. As great as it had been to be with them, to have a modicum of stability and continuity in your life, you did ache for privacy at times, and as close as you all were, that pang of loneliness which had haunted you for a long time still stabbed at you now and again, usually when you least expected it.

“That was a big sigh,” Luirlan commented as he too came to settle down silently for the night beside the dwindling flames.

“Just relaxing,” you said. You didn’t think anyone quite believed you, but no one took it any further. They gave you that privacy at least.

Mhorrin’s blade had stopped feathering details into the sculpture completely now, and, risking a quick sidelong look at him before you closed your eyes, you saw that he was staring at you. You flashed him a quick smile but got no response. Disheartened and more than a bit miserable, you drew your cloak up around your ears and tried to get some sleep.

Three days later the company arrived at a town that was much livelier and more prosperous than the one where you’d first met Bridget and her friends. Made of red brick and sandstone, some faced in mosaics of knapped flint, the merchants’ houses which bordered the wide market plaza were mostly three storeys tall, and they all glittered with large-paned windows. Elduin whistled through his teeth as he looked up at them, and Ned snorted. “This is where we should have been all this time - I can practically smell their gold. Folks like this always want someone to do some dirty work for them, or at least some heavy lifting!” He and Bridget flexed simultaneously and then fell about laughing at the silliness of it.

Mhorrin was the only one who seemed truly uncomfortable here.

Even the elves, who moved like shadows amongst the trees and could imitate almost every bird call you’d ever imagined, laughed and shoved each other playfully as you made your way through the market, but Mhorrin hung back, apparently staring at the ground, with his shoulders high and tense.

Doubling back, you fell into step beside him and murmured, “Everything alright?”

He nodded tersely and then added, “Not overly fond of places like this.”

“Fancy towns?”

“Any towns. Too busy. Too open…”

You bumped your shoulder gently against his side and said, “We’ve got your back, Mhorrin.”

You sensed the smile beneath the mask in the slight softening of his body, but he made no further reply. Side by side, the pair of you walked across the marketplace, following where the others led.

An old, ovine satyr stood behind a stall selling everything from herbal ingredients to sweets and snacks, and the elves slid over to her just as a human threw down in disgust whatever she’d been holding in her hand. “At that price? Go chew on a patch of nettles, you ugly old sheep!” the customer yelled at her and the satyr bleated something unspeakable at her retreating back.

“Sorry about that,” she grunted as she turned to face the elves. “People just don’t know the value of things that are hard to find. What can I do for you?”

They haggled cheerily over the price of various herbs, and the twins also came away with a large bag of licorice which they immediately dug into with the enthusiasm of small, lanky boys.

You watched them until Mhorrin’s soft voice at your ear made you jump. “Nothing for you?” he asked.

You shrugged, astonished that he was speaking to you. “Not really. You?”

He immediately shook his head. “I’d like a bath and a room at an inn,” he said, which surprised you.

So far he’d not shown himself as someone who liked his creature comforts. Clean he certainly was, but he was always efficient about bathing, heading into the river or stream after the others had returned shivering to camp, or using the baths in whichever establishment they called home for the night alone after everyone had finished. You wondered what it was that he felt the need to hide, but never went so far as to pry and ask.

Something of your curiosity must have shown, as he chuckled softly and said, “Am I so strange that my desire for a hot bath and a comfortable bed shocks you?”

The playfulness in his tone was more shocking to you, though only because it was so unusual for him to be so chatty and informal.

When you said as much, he shook his head, the long, tarred ship’s rope of his plait swaying. “Ah, what a bore I must be to you,” he all but whispered behind his wooden mask.

Before you could refute him, a young child with the hooves of a deer and the horns of a demon pointed at Mhorrin and tugged at their mother’s arm. “Look! Is he a tiefling too? Why is he wearing a mask?”

“I have no idea,” she said, shooting Mhorrin an apologetic look to which he apparently didn’t deign to respond. “It’s rude to point. Come on.”

Mhorrin’s heavy sigh made your head snap round but he was stalking away after the retreating backs of the others before you could get a good read on him. Not that such a thing was ever truly possible with his intense need for privacy and the mask and cloak covering almost all of him.

The inn that Bridget found was a few streets back from the marketplace, backing onto the temple and its grounds. “What about it, lads?” she asked. “If we double up on rooms, we should be able to afford this place quite comfortably after that last job we took.”

Everyone agreed that it was a huge step up from your last arrangements, and while she and Ned predictably partnered up, and the elves nodded at each other, Mhorrin turned to you with an odd tension in his body. “Do you mind?” he asked breathily.

“Sharing with you?” you asked, your voice catching in your throat at the chance to speak with him later in a more private setting. “Of course not!”

He nodded once, and it was all decided. Bridget paid up, and even managed to acquire a contract from one of the patrons who happened to be meeting a friend there for a drink.

“Oh thank the gods,” the merchant sighed, pressing a bejewelled finger to his temple. You had a job not to stare at the gem-encrusted rings that studded his hand and the gold chains that dangled around his fat neck. “I’ve been looking for someone capable enough of ridding the cellars of this pest for a week now, but no one will do it!”

“Just tell us what it is that needs killing,” Bridget said evenly.

“It’s some kind of spider, but it’s enormous. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you it’s the size of a small horse! It’s lurking between my finest barrels of Black Cedar red, and I’ve got the mayor and most of the council coming for dinner on Thursday, and if I can’t serve them that with the roast, then I don’t know what I’ll do. Even I can’t simply procure a wine of that vintage at such short notice!”

Bridget smirked and Ned hid a snort behind an artfully timed cough. You shot Mhorrin a look, but he had taken a step back into the quiet shadows and remained silent as always. Part of you ached a little when you saw him simply standing there, waiting for the next thing to be decided. Did he have no agency? No whims of his own? No desires? Did he just drift wherever Ned and Bridget and the others led him? As if he sensed your rising anger, Mhorrin’s face turned a little towards you but you shook your head and looked away. The private places of his heart were not for you to barge your way into.

Somehow Bridget wangled the most outrageous price from the desperate merchant, and the six of you headed over to his huge city mansion almost immediately after dumping your travel gear in your bedrooms. The room that you and Mhorrin were to share was beautiful, with a wide stone sill and twin beds on either side, a large silk rug in the centre, and two huge and elaborately carved wardrobes that neither of you would need.

The spider did in fact turn out to be the size of a small horse, and Elduin hissed, as you shut the door on it and backed out into the hallway to discuss your plan one final time, that it was more common to find these things up in the mountains where the goblins tunnel after emeralds and sapphires and the endless veins of silver.

“What the hell is it doing in the city then?” you growled. “It’s fucking huge!”

To your surprise it was Mhorrin who answered. “Many creatures such as that are traded as exotic and monstrous pets. One that size, and producing that much venom, would fetch a handsome price on such a market.”

Luirlan turned to him and said with a wry grin, “You think you can stick it full of arrows before it rolls us up like a party snack and sucks us dry?”

“Perhaps,” he hedged. “For all their size though, they’re damned quick. I’ll need a distraction.”

The twins looked at Ned and Bridget, and they nodded just as Elduin yipped, “Why are we always the distraction?”

Bridget grinned, “Because you’re also damned quick.”

Ned chimed in with, “Plus you look like a tasty little party snack,” which earned him a punch to the sternum which probably hurt Elduin’s knuckles more than Ned’s chest, judging by the gruff chuckle the minotaur gave.

“Ok, fine,” Luirlan said more seriously. “We’ll go in and chuck some throwing stars and powder snappers at it while Mhorrin turns it into a stationary porcupine. What about you two?” he asked Ned and Bridget.

“We’ll make sure you don’t get turned into that party snack for real,” she said darkly. “One of us on either side.” She turned to you and added, “And you’ll watch Mhorrin’s back.” There was no room for debate in her comment, but neither did she leave room for doubt; she knew by now that you would truly have Mhorrin’s back, and she trusted you with her friend’s life. Something about that made your chest ache and glow, and you nodded.

With the plan finalised, and your assorted weapons eased in their holsters and belts, you re-entered the dark cellars. None of you had any magic, so the elves tossed a couple of powder snappers they’d bought in the market which flared and popped when they struck the ground, and the spider, which had been crouching low between two enormous barrels at the far end of the stone-lined chamber, rose up and chittered softly in alarm.

The sound of it sent shivers down your spine like nails on a chalkboard, but you focused on the creature with your beautiful steel blade held firmly in your hand. Beside you, the gentle and now familiar creak of Mhorrin’s bow as it flexed was a steadying reassurance in the dark of the room.

The first arrow struck the creature in one of its eyes, but somehow - despite the power of the bow and the deadliness of the aim - it survived.

“You pissed it off real good!” Luirlan yelled as he dived out of the way of its lashing, frothing mandibles. “Oh fuck!” he yelled as it slashed at his skinny body with one of its eight, hairy legs. “It’s got fucking claws too!”

The fight went more or less to plan, with Mhorrin loosing arrows at vulnerable points on its body, but its hide was so thick that they seemed more like thistles in the coat of a wild boar than the deadly pine shafts of hunting arrows. Bridget yanked Elduin back out of the way just in time, and Ned hacked off one of its legs, making the spider spit and scream, retreating back towards the barrels. At that point it seemed to notice that Mhorrin was the source of the stinging barbs in its side, and it scuttled with the speed of a hunting hound fresh of its leash straight at you.

Ned was too far away to take another swing at it, but he hurled his great axe at it, though it missed and embedded itself in a smaller barrel to your right, the scent of wine filling the chamber to replace the fusty dank smell of the spider’s lair.

It was almost upon the pair of you, so you stepped in front of Mhorrin, barely noticing the arrow that hissed past your ear as the spider reared up again, its horrifyingly enormous mandibles clacking and glistening in the low light of the room. You swung at the taloned leg that darted forwards for you, but it was Mhorrin you gave a sharp cry from right behind you. The creature hadn’t been going for you at all, and its six inch long claw had gone through Mhorrin’s thick leather cloak like a needle through silk.

With a howl of rage, you drove the point of your sword upwards into the rearing spider’s throat until the hilt hit its soft fur, and you reeled back as it writhed and screamed. Forgetting about the creature and your blade, you turned and found Mhorrin on the floor, though he’d only been knocked back by the speed of the attack, and was quickly staggering upright.

“Mhorrin,” you gasped but he shook his head.

“I’m alright. It’s…”

“You’re bleeding,” you stated. “Let me look at it.”

“No,” he said, his spare hand flying up to press it into the stab wound. “Thank you. I’ll… I’ll tend to it myself.”

You scowled, but there wasn’t much you could do. The others finished off the spider and brought down the oiled tarpaulin they’d prepared earlier to deal with its corpse, as per their contract.

The merchant was hardly as grateful as he might have been when he discovered the damage that Ned’s axe had done to one of the casks, but even without the cost he’d removed from the final payment to cover the replacement of the wine, you’d earned yourself a small fortune.

Mhorrin’s progress back to the inn was slow, but he showed no signs of passing out and he refused to take your arm or lean on you. When you were back in your room, you tried again to offer your help.

“Please,” you said. “I’ve got salves and bandages, and thread to stitch you up if it needs it, though I don’t think it will. I know what I’m doing. I’m not some hedge doctor; I’ve patched people up before, and done it well.”

He was breathing steadily but rapidly, the shallow rasp of his breath the only betrayal of the pain he must have been in. His masked face revealed nothing.

“Please Mhorrin,” you said even more gently. “Let me help you.”

“I can manage,” he said, though the conviction had gone from his tone.

“I know.”

After another few breaths, he nodded. “Fine.”

The tension that suddenly filled the room seemed nearly choking, but you took a breath and stepped back while he turned away from you and reached up to unlace the knot that held his wooden mask in place. He took the tiniest intake of breath before he removed it, and then set it down on a table nearby, still with his back to you.

A moment later, he undid the buckle that held his heavy cloak in place, and folded it carefully over the back of a chair so that the strange, black blood which still oozed from the wound in his shoulder wouldn’t mar anything.

You’d never seen him without the shapeless leather cloak, and without it, he seemed suddenly so much more slender; almost vulnerable. His waist was invitingly narrow and he wore loose trousers of the kind that many satyrs and fauns preferred, leaving his paw-like feet bare from the ankle. Over his top half, he wore a rough-looking linen shirt that was stained black with his blood, a fact as unusual as the rest of him.

He plucked at the hem of his shirt and murmured without looking at you, “You need this off as well, I suppose.”

You didn’t respond immediately. The right side of his shoulders was markedly higher than the other, making his spine curve and his shoulders hunch, and beneath the thin fabric of his shirt you could see ridges and bumps on the points of his shoulders. There was something alluringly beautiful about the unusual quality of his body. You’d never seen anyone like him in your whole life, but now was not the moment for that. You had not been given this moment for the luxury of admiring him.

“Or do you just want to gawp at the monster like everyone else?” Mhorrin snarled with real venom, still staring at the wall in front of him. The hiss of breath through his nostrils reminded you of a lurking naga in a dark cave, dangerous, threatened, and poised to strike.

“Yes please,” you murmured sheepishly. “I need it off.”

In a single motion, he ripped it over his head with no care for the open wound in his left shoulder, and dumped it on the floor before reaching for his mask and shoving it roughly back onto his face before you’d even seen it.

His back was the same mottled light and dark grey as his unusual hands, like water spattered on granite, but his spine was prominently ridged and he did indeed have almost horn-like protrusions at the shoulder joints, reminiscent of those that some lizardfolk have. He was clearly not reptilian though, you discovered as you cleaned the wound, earning nothing but a sharp intake of breath from him, and the same again as you smeared the heady-scented salve across it; his skin was warm to the touch, and surprisingly smooth, though you tried not to let your fingertips linger.

Mhorrin did gasp, however, when you pressed the clean dressing down over the antiseptic salve, keeping your other palm flat to his shoulder. The wound was on his left side, and the gnarled hump on his right shoulder rose and fell as his breathing quickened.

“Did I hurt you badly?” you asked and to your surprise he shook his head.

“No.” A moment later he laughed huskily, nervously, and said, “Your hands are cold.”

“Really?” you snorted. “That’s what’s bothering you right now?”

“You’re right,” he returned with sudden sourness returning to his words. “I have much bigger things with which to concern myself at the moment.” He didn’t seem to be talking about the wound.

Not understanding his words, you nearly let go of the wad of dressing, but you steadied yourself and returned to the task at hand. In no time he was bandaged up, and it didn’t bleed through the wrapping, so you figured you’d made the right decision.

“All done,” you said, and he rose immediately from the chair and fished out a clean shirt from his pack while you washed your hands in the stand at the corner of the room. This time he didn’t wait to remove his mask, and forced it over his head, ripping the dusky blue shirt slightly at the throat.

Once it was on, he snatched up his leather cloak and stalked from the room, securing it with the buckle as he left. His clawed feet faltered at the doorway, almost as if he had been on the point of turning and speaking to you, but to your disappointment he simply disappeared into the dark corridor beyond and let the door close behind him.

You stood there a moment, recalling the rapid breathing, the warmth of his body, the closeness of him, the musky smell of leather and something else that was undoubtedly his own scent. The way his black hair had gleamed in its thick plait, and the way his strange hands had twitched in his lap as you’d leaned over him; the tension ratcheting up his spine the closer you’d got… Dismissing his sharpness with a shake of your head, you grabbed your coin purse and headed down to the bar in search of a drink.

Bridget scowled at you when you arrived and plonked down in a seat beside her. The elves were nowhere to be seen, but Ned was drinking quietly beside her. “What happened?” she demanded in a low growl. “Mhorrin just headed out like a horse to pasture, and now you come down wearing a face like that…”

You shrugged and after a passing waitress took your order, you leaned back and rubbed your eyes. “Is Mhorrin always like this?”

“Like what?” Ned asked, resting his massive forearms on the sturdy table.

A shoulder twitch was all you had the energy for until you added, “So… skittish.”

“Skittish?” Bridget blurted. “The guy’s about as steady as a rock. What do you mean?”

“I don’t mean that he’s nervous in a fight,” you amended, running your fingers through your hair. It was greasy and you needed a bath, but somehow you hadn’t got the impetus now. “When I was dressing his wound just now, he -” Bridget cut you off with an astonished bark of laughter.

“He let you get near enough to touch him?”

You met her hazel eyes directly, confused. “Yeah? I mean, I had to convince him that I knew what I was doing first, but…”

“Oh, I don’t think that would have worried him,” she went on. “I mean, he’s pretty handy with a needle himself. He knows his way around an injury or two.” She set her glass down and tugged up the sleeve of her shirt to reveal a scar you’d seen many times on her stunning bicep. She had a habit of wearing sleeveless tunics after all. “He patched this up when I thought I was gonna lose my whole fucking arm. Left barely a whisper when it was healed.” She thumbed the thin silver line and shook her head disbelievingly.

That piece of information left you reeling. “If he could see to his own wounds, why did he go through all that with me…?” you mused aloud.

“All what?”

You gestured vaguely with your hand and nearly knocked your drink from the server’s hands as it arrived at your table. With a swift apology and a grin that seemed to appease him, you thanked the pretty tiefling and he left your glass on the table with a wink and an overly-friendly squeeze to your shoulder.

Ned growled, “There’s an open invitation if ever I saw one.”

You didn’t feel like taking him up on it, no matter how handsome he was. Your mind was occupied solely with thoughts of Mhorrin and his dappled skin. He’d had freckles on his back. You drew a deep breath and shrugged. Downing half your drink before looking up again, you simply said, “He let me clean and dress it, but he nearly bit my head off for the privilege of it.”

Bridget was quiet for a while, staring into her ale before she said, “You know, I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen him without that damned stupid cloak on?”

“Really?”

“Mmm. He never takes it off. To let you see more of him than even that… must have been a big deal for him. He trusts you,” she said, shooting you a look. “He partnered with you in that scrap with the spider and the two of you moved like our fucking elves; like you’ve been fighting together all your lives. I’ve never seen him like that…” She traced a fingertip through a glistening ring of beer on the tabletop and added, “Normally he’s our ranged fighter, hanging back on his own. To have someone with him is… new.”

Ned nodded quietly in agreement. “Give him time.”

“I think that’s all he’ll let me give him,” you grumbled, draining your glass and setting it down on the table with a hefty clunk. “I’m going out,” you announced, standing suddenly. “Need to clear my head.”

The two best friends let you go without comment, swiftly falling into their own conversation once you had strode away and left a few coppers at the bar for your drink.

Outside the soft patter of rain greeted you, and you groaned. With your hair damp in minutes, you sighed. You didn’t feel like doubling back for a cloak though, so you set off through the streets towards the temple grounds to stretch your legs and try and wear yourself out completely before going back to your shared room.

To your surprise, you’d gone no further than the bridge over the river which guarded the temple garden when you spotted a very familiar figure, swathed in a ridiculous cloak.

“Mhorrin?” you asked quietly as you stood in the drizzle at the foot of the gently arching bridge.

In the fae-lamps which illuminated the city at night, he looked decidedly peculiar, which was saying something - perhaps somewhere between a gargoyle and a damp dragon with wings folded downwards. He turned slowly and regarded you from behind his eerie mask. You thought he whispered your name, but you couldn’t be sure.

“You want me to leave?” you asked.

After taking a moment to mull over your question, he shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, I don’t…” he faltered as you walked towards him, boots scuffing on the cobbles.

Ignoring the water pooling on the rough masonry of the sides of the bridge, you joined him and leaned your forearms on the stonework. A huge sigh heaved itself from your lungs and you stared at the silent water slipping by in an inky black stream beneath you. Rain dribbled miserably down the collar of your jacket and you shivered, sniffing as it dripped off your nose as well.

A rather more significant shudder shimmied down your spine a second later, and Mhorrin snorted a soft laugh behind his wooden mask. The next thing you knew, the heavy leather of his cloak was being draped around your shoulders and he was standing very close to you. “I cleaned the blood off it,” he said, and you smiled a little snort of your own.

The two of you stood like that for a little while, watching the river slide by, but eventually Mhorrin spoke up. “I’m sorry I spoke to you like that. I had no right.”

You shrugged, not knowing quite what to say and hoping it would be enough.

“Bridget showed me her scar,” you said pointedly after a minute or so.

“Oh?”

“Mmm. The one on her arm. The one you patched up. If you didn’t need me to treat you, why did you let me?”

Mhorrin remained silent for a heartbeat or three before he sighed and said heavily, “Perhaps I wanted someone else to do the looking after for once.”

Something about his tone struck you deeply and you found yourself unable to speak or find a proper reply, so you said nothing. He seemed to understand, even to appreciate the distance your silence gave him, despite your proximity beneath the cloak.

After a while he said, “We should head back.”

When you nodded, he withdrew the shelter of the cloak from you and you straightened. Neither of you said anything as you returned to the inn, but the silence was comfortable. Comforting even.

The bustle of the inn’s bar jangled against your memory of the soft rain outside, but you still shot Bridget a reassuring smile as you passed, and she nodded once before looking away.

Back in your room, you said you were going to get some of your clothes cleaned by the inn staff, and you offered to add Mhorrin’s bloody shirt to the pile. When you returned with empty arms, you pushed open the door and found Mhorrin standing against the windowsill, his arms braced against it, his body bare except for his trousers.

His back was towards you, but it didn’t feel like he was shutting you out. Quite the opposite, in fact; it felt as though he were giving you the opportunity to stare at him openly.

And you took it.

Mhorrin’s back was crooked and gnarled as an oak tree, listing slightly to the right like an old sloop in a force eight. For the first time you realised with a slight pang of… what, excitement?… that he had a long tail like a tiefling’s which, until then, had been carefully concealed beneath the fabric of his trousers. Now it writhed gently behind him like a hypnotised cobra, occasionally twitching. You let your eyes roam over the blue-grey skin of his shoulders, taking in the horn-like studs and the freckles and the various shades of stormy grey as you approached him. His hair hung down his back in its usual thick plait, but you saw with jolt that he didn’t have his mask on.

It sat on the sill beside his hand, empty and hollow as an old temple offering.

“Mhorrin?” you asked, voice cracking ever so slightly. “Everything alright?”

“You wanted to see me,” he said without turning around. “Well… here I am.” He turned just a little as you crossed the last few steps towards him and put your palm on the small of Mhorrin’s back, making him suck in a breath as his spine tensed up.

Then, almost imperceptibly, he started to relax again as you began to explore his body bit by bit, inch by inch, savouring the touches he was allowing you. Slowly, hesitantly, Mhorrin turned towards you, still in the circle of your arms, and he revealed his face for the first time.

Elongated and almost canine, his muzzle was drawn back in a nervous snarl to reveal huge canines and a black tongue. His almond shaped eyes were massive and completely black with no visible white sclera, but they were covered in a milky film like starlight.

“Mhorrin?” you gasped, taking half a step back from him, eyes fixed on his. “Mhorrin, are you…?” and your fingertips fluttered anxiously beside his muzzle, wanting to touch his cheeks just below his eyes. His gaze sailed straight over your head.

“Blind? Yes,” he said.

“I had no idea you couldn’t see. The way you shoot…?”

Mhorrin shrugged, not shying away from your touch this time as your fingertips connected with his soft skin. “I can see heat, like a snake - always could - which is how I found you on that bridge just now.” With a dry smirk he added, “All I had to do was look for a little block of ice.”

You snorted indelicately through your nose and dropped your hand back to your side. “Can I ask… what you are?”

At long last, his face softened just a little, the muscles of his muzzle relaxing, and he sighed, leaning his wiry body back against the sill behind him with a heavy exhale. “I’m a changeling fae, born on the blood moon and thus cursed to look like… this. My mother didn’t want a monstrous child like me, so she swapped me for a pretty human boy, stole him away, and suckled him on her own blood to turn him fae. He’s… He’s their prince now…”

The brutality of his answer shocked you to your core. “Mhorrin…”

He shrugged again, turning his strange hands palm up and seeming to regard them.

On impulse, you slid your own hands into his and he sucked in another sharp breath.

“I don’t care what you are,” you said, more earnestly than you’d perhaps intended. “You’re a good soul. I’m glad I met you.”

A quiet, rumbling purr began to sound from Mhorrin, which was slightly interrupted by the embarrassed laugh he gave.

“Mhorrin?”

He shook his head, still smiling, and said, “You… You’re not like other humans I’ve met…”

“Oh?” you asked, tilting your head up to look at him properly, your hands still in his powerful grip, very aware of how close to him you were standing.

“Mmm.”

“How so?”

He laughed and said, “I… I feel…” but then he shook his head.

Deciding to act rather than to speak, you let go of his hands and took him by the hips, tugging him those final few inches closer, and you nuzzled your cheek against his before kissing him there.

Mhorrin growled softly like a gnoll and surged forwards, his hands searching up your sides, kissing you hard and you felt your cock stirring already, blood rushing south in a dizzying spiral. This was what you’d wanted for all those weeks; for someone to want you with a basic, almost feral instinct.

The changeling’s purring growl echoed in your ribcage as he backed you towards the nearest bed. “Tell me you want this,” he managed to rasp, drool glistening at his lips already. “Please, tell me you want this.”

“Fuck, Mhorrin,” you hissed, already leaning back towards the bed. “Yes. I want you. I don’t care how, but I want you.”

He chuckled at that and nuzzled a few more kisses at your neck one final time before tipping you onto the bed and stripping you rather hurriedly of your clothes. When he sprang your cock free, he moaned. “If you could see you the way I do,” he said.

In answer, you bucked your hips upwards a little and he got the message. Taking your cock in his hand and steadying your hips with the other, he smeared your leaking tip with one of his two thumbs and then slid your hard cock into his mouth and took you all the way to the back of his throat.

You couldn’t have contained the groan that rolled out of you even if you’d wanted to. The heat of his tongue and the ridges on the roof of his mouth were almost too much for your sensitive cock. You did manage to fight the immediate urge to fuck upwards into the heat of his mouth, however, and as his black tongue swirled around the head and then the shaft of your cock, you grunted inarticulately and he gripped your hips even tighter.

“Fuck, Mhorrin…” you wheezed, head lolling to one side, chest heaving. “That’s so good…”

The changeling sucked and dipped, his breath fanning over your lower torso as he worked you astonishingly quickly towards your climax, and as white heat coiled in your belly, you gasped, “Mhorrin, stop… I’m… I’m gonna…” and you lurched forwards and grabbed his thick hair, pulling him by the plait off your cock with a lewd pop that made your head spin.

“Mm?” he asked.

As you glanced down you saw the tent in his trousers and you gestured at his waistband. “You’re overdressed…”

With a shy grin, Mhorrin obliged, sliding out of his remaining clothes to reveal the evidence of his own arousal. Where the skin of his lean torso was a dark, stormy grey, his cock was almost blue, the tip a vibrant red and already weeping pearlescent pre-come down the length of his shaft, twitching in the relative cool of the bedroom.

Before he had the chance to return his attention to your cock, you reached for him and tugged him down to the bed. “My turn,” you said as you wrestled him onto his back with a playful grunt. He was stronger than you by far, and could have overpowered you easily, but he let you.

As you sat astride him, Mhorrin’s long tail snaked around your thigh and made you gasp as he caressed your balls with the soft, blunt tip of it. Your knees buckled and you pitched forwards, landing with one hand on his chest and the other on the bed beside him. His jaw parted and he raked his teeth across the pounding pulse in your neck before drawing back and saying, “Two can play that game, you tricksy little human…”

Your cock throbbed at the sound of his voice, suddenly so confident and self-assured, and it made you want to unravel him in the best way possible.

Sensing this, perhaps, he smiled hesitantly and said, “I… I have no oil that would be suitable, I’m afraid…”

“I do,” you said quietly. “Would you like me to fuck you then?”

He nodded mutely, and you smiled, raking your nails down his chest and making him gasp, his dark nipples hardening almost instantly.

It didn’t take you long to find the small vial you were looking for in the depths of your bag, and when you turned back to face him, you took just a moment to admire him. His long, lean body was stretched out, the pads of his toes spread wide with expectant pleasure, his tail writhing slowly beside him, his thighs tensed, his quads standing out and straining, and his hand was on his weeping cock already.

It didn’t take you long to open him up, but you did delight in watching the way his jaws went slack and drool slid freely from his lips as he tilted his head back and keened with pleasure as you hit that spot inside him that made him jolt and jerk with searing pleasure.

His body began to quake and quiver in minutes, and soon he was writhing and snapping his maw shut, his blind eyes rolling closed as his hands searched for you amid his pleasure. “Please,” he rasped. “Please…”

With a grin you slicked your own achingly hard cock with oil and then lined yourself up with him. Again, his tail snaked between your legs as he lay on his back, and he started to caress your balls as you eased yourself into him. He was still so tight that it took you a while to enter him completely, but when he raised his hips and finished the job for you, the pair of you let out matching moans.

Mhorrin went rigid with the pleasure of it and you felt the heat of his insides clench around you, almost daring you to come then and there.

“Fuck…” you breathed, bending low over him, adjusting to the grip he held on you.

“That’s… the idea…” he grunted. “Isn't it?”

With a hoarse laugh, you started to move, enjoying the slide of your cock inside him, watching him coming undone with each thrust, until he was shaking and whimpering. “Oh by Fate…” he cursed suddenly, “I’m… I’m going… I’m…” he cried and suddenly he was overcome, his body convulsing, his hands gripping your forearms as he curled his spine towards you, his abs clenching, his body rocking and jolting with the force of his release. His cock - untouched - spurted over his abs and chest, and he almost howled as he came.

Three more thrusts and you too were coming, emptying yourself inside him with a breathless gasp as your vision went white. Falling forwards over him, you lay there with him, gasping and still twitching, until he brought his strange hands to your back and traced idle lines up and down your spine.

Eventually you shifted, sticky and spent, and staggered towards the washstand in the corner of the room to fetch a cloth for him and for yourself.

Even cleaning him elicited similar groans of pleasure from him, and before you knew it, he was getting hard again, and despite your exhaustion from the day and from your first round, you felt the same awakening in your own body.

Silently, you moved your hand back to his cock and he jerked and whimpered.

“Yes?” you asked, and he nodded.

“Yes… Please, yes…”

—

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[woodelf68]

Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out

My long-promised homage to @worryinglyinnocent‘s Playtime ‘verse, because she managed to write fifty installments without doing hippies, and I had to rectify that. Also my contribution to @rumbelleishope. Rated E. 

***

The large cardboard box bearing items from the estate sale was like a time capsule from the late 1960s. Gold sorts through the items, fond memories of his early childhood stirred by such things as the beaded curtain and concert posters and the heavy stack of albums, their cardboard covers worn along the edges but still bright with the distinctive graphics of the era. The Who, Jefferson Airplane, Country Joe and the Fish, Iron Butterfly. Donovan, too, Glasgow-born like himself. He can hear them in his head, like a soundtrack to the Summer of Love, and he wonders if Belle will like any of them. He’s fairly certain that she’ll like the clothes, and holds up a loose, flowing smock with wide sleeves and delicate flowers embroidered around the neckline and hem.  It’s a pretty thing, and he can easily see Belle wearing it, hopes that she’ll want to.

Methodically he sorts through the contents of the box, dividing everything into three piles. One to be priced and sold – the two posters were what had drawn him to bid on this lot in the first place, and he knows that he can sell them for a pretty penny – one of things he thinks Belle might be interested in, and one of a few items of clothing that he looks at doubtfully, unsure if he wants them to fit or not. But he thinks of Belle in the short dress, thinks of surprising her with a scenario they haven’t played out yet, knows he won’t regret any temporary feelings of silliness at wearing what are, after all, fairly normal clothes compared to some of the things he’s put on for her. Making up his mind, he goes into the shop’s small bathroom and locks the door.

Several minutes later he’s studying his reflection, and surprisingly not feeling too ridiculous. although he would die of embarrassment if anyone other than Belle were to see him wearing a suede leather vest adorned with long fringes. But the undyed linen shirt with the open neck and band collar is soft and comfortable, and if it’s a little too big, it’s not overly so, and he can roll up the sleeves. Same with the trousers, he’s sure that the flare-legged rust denim was originally meant to fit a bit more tightly than they do on his frame, but although he knows that Belle would no doubt appreciate that, he’s gotten used to more freedom of movement. With a belt and the cuffs turned up if he doesn’t want them to drag on the ground, the jeans fit well enough. The clothes remind him of his childhood, those years after he had been taken in by his aunts, where he had learned the feeling of security, and being wanted, and what it was like to be praised and encouraged instead of constantly belittled. Whether it’s the warm memories associated with the era, or simply the fact that he knows his ten year old self would have loved to have had a fringed leather vest, he’s satisfied with his image.  Now all he has to do is suggest a scene. He thinks about it as he changes back into his suit and tucks the vintage garments into a bag. The shop is small, and would be easily decorated, but far too public for more than a quickie. The large Victorian house filled with fine antiques is not right at all. That leaves the cabin, he decides.

Saturday morning, he drops Belle off at the library and hands her a box tied with string that he’d stashed in the back seat of the Cadillac. “Don’t open it until lunchtime,” he says, knowing the pleasure of an anticipated surprise. “I won’t be in the shop today; I’ve got some other business to take care of.”

“All right; see you later.” Belle watches him drive off, mystified by the package in her hands. By the time lunchtime rolls around, she’s more than ready to tear off the box lid and find out what’s in it. A piece of paper sits on top of some tissue paper-covered contents, with the heading “Playtime?” She forces herself to read the rest before folding back the tissue paper and seeing what awaits her. “It’s 1968. Fibre artist and co-founder of Storybrooke’s new “Enchanted Forest” commune “Rumpelstiltskin” Gold has agreed to an interview with the hip young reporter from the local newspaper.  Please confirm interview at 6 pm Saturday.”  Intrigued, she folds back the tissue paper and nearly squeals with delight, instantly picking up the beaded, white leather headband that lays on top of the other items and tying it around her head. She gets out her compact mirror to admire how it looks for a moment before texting Rum back.

“Interview confirmed. Looking forward to it.”

He must have been waiting for her reply; his return message is swift. “Dove will have the car there for you at five; I’ll see you later.”

Dove arrives with the keys to the Cadillac before she closes the library at five, and as soon as she locks the front door, she retires to the restroom to change into her outfit. It’s a beautiful day, warm and sunny, and she drives out to the cabin as instructed, deciding what she’s going to say when she gets there.  Parking, she starts to head for the door of the cabin when she hears music coming from around the side of it and alters her course.  Gold is there, sitting on top of the picnic table, his spindle hanging down and twirling as he spins a smooth yarn from the basket of wool roving in the basket beside him. He is dressed – well, he is dressed to match her, obviously, and it suits him. It suits him incredibly well.  He looks softer, younger, his dark hair set off by the off-white linen shirt, feathering out over the band collar, the open neckline displaying the line of this throat and a string of love beads, mostly black with a few white and sky blue ones mixed in at regular intervals.  The rust-coloured denim of his jeans sits low on his hips and flares out below the knees and the fringed vest…she’d like to see him move with it on, see the fringes flare out. She kind of wants to borrow it herself, and thinks about what it would feel like to wear it with nothing on underneath.  Preferably while she was riding him in bed, rocking back and forth, the open edges of the leather rubbing back and forth against her bare skin… She swallows hard, and pushes that image back to take out and play with again later. Gold looks both snuggly, and sexy, and she wants nothing more than to go over to him and slide her fingers into his hair to hold him still while she kisses him breathless, but she has a part to play first.

”Mr. Gold?” she asks, approaching. “I’m Belle French, with the Storybrooke Mirror. You agreed to an interview.” She holds out her hand and he lets go of the dangling yarn forming between his fingers to reach out and shake it.

“Call me Rum, please.” He goes back to smoothing the spinning fiber into a smooth, even yarn, and Belle can’t help but watch his hands.

“That’s a nickname, right?” She takes out a pen and notebook from her purse, ostensibly jotting it down. “For Rumpelstiltskin, because of the spinning.”

“It is. I quite like it.”

“How did you get into spinning?”

“My aunts taught me. We had a wee croft, a few sheep, chickens, that sort of thing. Turned out that I was quite good at it. I like the rhythm of it, and there’s a lot of satisfaction in taking a bit of dirty, rough wool and combing it clean and spinning it into a strong, even twist of yarn that can be made into things.”

“Do you use the yarn yourself? Make it into things?”

“Aye, we do a fair bit of that here, at the commune. Granny’s our champion knitter, ponchos and scarves and mittens, they always sell really well at the Miner’s Day Festival. And my son and his girlfriend like to make dreamcatchers with the wool; they’re another popular item. And of course we make things for ourselves as well.”

“So is that part of your goal here? To be as self-sufficient as possible?” Belle drops her bag on the grass and sits down beside it, cross-legged, resting her notebook on her thigh and glancing back up after scribbling a few things down in it.  It’s a lazy sort of day, and for once she isn’t in a hurry to rush to the sex, instead interested in the unusually detailed background story he’s made up about himself, and hinted at in the letter he’d written. She wouldn’t mind being a journalist if she wasn’t a librarian, she thinks, and wonders if the Mirror might be interested in her starting a weekly column about books.

“Aye, I suppose. It’s cheaper to make your own bread than to buy it, for example, and better for you. You’ll have to talk to Anton, our crops expert, if you want to know more about that side of thing. He’ll talk your ear off about beans if you show even the slightest bit of interest.”

Belle grins, thinking of the gentle giant who ran the local health food store, and knowing it was actually true. “You mentioned your son; tell me about him.”

Gold smiles fondly. “He’s an artist. Does portraits when he can get a commission, freelance political cartoons, sign painting, anything really.”

Neal is indeed a good artist, she knows, even if he has chosen the steady paycheck that came with a job at the hardware store over any artistic dreams, preferring to keep it a hobby. “You sound very proud of him .”

“I am.”

“What about those other people you mentioned? His girlfriend, and Granny. Do they live here, too?”

“Aye, Emma and her parents are fairly new here. Her mother’s our respectable member of society – she’s a teacher at the school – and her father can do just about everything around here. Good with the animals, construction work, anything that needs doing. And I can’t even be jealous of him because he’s so nice, too.”

Belle laughs; it really is a good summation of David.

“And Granny, well, she’s been here since the beginning.”

Belle makes a note, and looks back up to watch the whirling spindle, his fingers never still as he forms the yarn between his fingers. “Tell me about the beginning. What made you decide to start a commune?”

“Well, we didn’t, not really, certainly not at first. When my son was young – “ he hesitates, and then continues. “His mother left us, and there I was, needing to go to work and having a wee boy to take care of at the same time. We didn’t have any family, or friends. But I knew the woman in the flat across from ours had taken in her granddaughter recently and was raising her on her own – there’d been some scandal with the mother, from what Milah had gathered. But the lass looked hearty enough, so I figured that the woman knew how to take care of a bairn and I was desperate. I went knocking on her door, thinking she might be willing to look after Neal for what little money I could offer her, since it would be in the convenience of her own home. And he was a sweet, well-behaved boy, no trouble at all.”

Belle looks up at him uncertainly, knowing that he was talking about his own real life here; at least as far as Neal’s mother leaving them went, and wonders about it. He normally never talks about that period of his life, maybe this was one way he could do so?  She isn’t sure about the Granny part; they don’t seem to have that sort of relationship. She stops herself from asking if Granny had really watched Neal, though, not wanting to break character yet. Rum has gone through a lot of trouble putting together a backstory for this particular scenario, and she doesn’t want to break the mood. She realises that she knows even less about Granny’s past, or Ruby’s parents, and makes a note on her pad to ask later. She squints against the sun, positioned behind his head and outlining the locks of hair falling forward into his face, and tries to think what would be the next question that a journalist would ask.

“Were you working as a spinner then?”

“Lord, no, an accountant. It’s only been in the last few years that people have begun appreciating handcrafted items again, enough to pay a little more for them than mass-produced factory goods. It was when the last of my aunts died that I took it up again. They’d left me their cottage, and everything in it, including their wheels and a good stash of both raw wool and spun yarn. I would have moved back to Scotland and lived there, but Neal had his friends and his life here, and wanted to stay, so I sold the place and brought as many of their things home with us as possible, things that I remembered from my childhood, even though I had to place most of it in storage. But I made Neal a scarf for Christmas from the yarn, and his friend Emma then asked if I could make her a hat, and paid for it with her allowance money, and then Granny’s Ruby wanted one, and pretty soon the boutique in town contacted me about selling some of my stuff there. I took a leap of faith and quit my job, but if I was going to spend all day at home spinning and weaving, then I wasn’t going to do it in my tiny apartment. This cabin was for sale, needed a lot of fixing up, but Neal was old enough to help by then and enlisted a bunch of his friends from woodshop at school as well. We had it fixed up and livable in quite a short amount of time, and well, that was the start of things.”

Belle mentally sorts out the facts from fabrication. His aunts had been real, she knows, but the cabin has never been more than a weekend getaway place. She is saved having to think of another question by the music in the background coming to a stop and Gold putting aside his spindle and going over to the record player to flip over the disc. A new song begins playing, with what she thinks is a bass line, a deep, thumping riff that gets under her skin and makes her want to move. She stands up, leaving her notepad and pen lying on her bag in the grass, and goes to meet Gold. “I like this song,” she says, beginning to sway in place as he turns back around to face her.

“Do you?”

“Mm-hm.” She takes his hands, trying to get him to dance with her. “In-a-gadda-da-vida, honey, don’t you know that I love you,” she sings, and nearly laughs at the way his eyebrows go up in surprise, biting back the remark that Storybrooke does have an oldies radio station, and it’s kind of hard to forget a song that seems to go on forever. “In-a-gadda-da-vida, baby, don’t you know that I’ll always be true?” She lifts his arms up, spinning beneath him, and smiling; he helps twirl her,  her lightweight skirt flaring out around her.

“Oh, won’t you come with me,” she sings, and her mind completely derails in a sexual direction. “Won’t you take my hand?” With a filthy smirk on her face she tugs at his hands, backing away, and he follows, entranced, helpless to do otherwise. “Oh, won’t you come with me and walk this land? Please, take my hand.” She stops as they reach the picnic table, putting her hands on his shoulders, swaying to the music, forcing him to move as well, his feet staying planted but hips and shoulders moving to the beat.

“That’s it,” she encourages, and he smiles, drawing her close with his hands on her hips, pulling her flush against his body. She loops her arms around his neck, playing with his hair, her gaze drawn to the open collar of his shirt. “You look good,” she says.

“Do I?’ He tilts his head, grazes his lips against hers.

“Mm-hm. You should wear light colours more often.” She dips her head, pressing a kiss against his collarbone, mouthing against the warm skin.

“Have we moved into the second portion of the programming?” he asks, amused, leaning in to run his tongue around her earlobe.

“New questions. Like, do you believe in free love?” She runs her hand up his back, feeling each bump in his spine through the soft shirt, and then back down again, slipping up underneath the sun-warmed fabric.

“Oh, most definitely,” he assures her, his breath ghosting over hers as the music throbs in the background, a primal beat that makes him want to move against her, inside her. He debates the practicalities of just lifting her up onto the top of the picnic table and taking her right there.

“And is there a reason for that picnic blanket that you spread out so thoughtfully in the shade of the tree over there?”

“There are twigs and bugs in the grass,” he says, and Belle snorts. “And I thought, if any visitors should wish to recline in comfort…”

“Well, then,” she says, and takes his hand, leading him behind her towards the blanket. She sinks down upon it and he sits down beside her, facing her,  and she can’t think of anything else to say, because all she wants to do is touch him. She slides her hand beneath his hair at the nape of his neck and draws him closer and he tilts his head and then they’re kissing languorously, need slowly building between them. Belle slips her hands up under the hem of his shirt, then back out again, tugging at the hem. “Off,” she instructs.

Gold breaks away from the path he’d been nuzzling along her neck to grin at her. “Run out of questions, have you?”

“The only thing I want to know is what you’re going to look like spread out naked before me,” she says, her voice gone a bit husky.

Gold sheds his vest first and then reaches back and yanks his shirt off over his head, his eyes darkening. The light breeze rustling the leaves above them feels good on his heated skin as he shakes his hair out of his eyes, reaching out to splay his hands over Belle’s ribs before she can touch him herself, very much aware that she isn’t wearing a bra and grazing his thumbs over her nipples. Her breathing quickens and her head falls back as he rubs them, back and forth and back and forth, feeling them tighten and swell until she moans and reaches down to grab the hem of her own shirt. Gold obligingly drops his arms so that she can pull it off and cast it aside, the motion lifting her breasts and stretching out her taut belly. She kicks off her sandals and Gold takes the opportunity to remove his own low cut boots and socks, shifting more comfortably now onto his knees, and drawing Belle forward to straddle one of his thighs before kissing her again, more urgently than before.

Belle begins moving, riding his hard thigh, rubbing herself against him. His belt buckle digs into her stomach, and she reaches down, tugging it open and free impatiently, and then going for the snap and zipper of his jeans, wanting only warm skin against her, feeling Gold slide his hands up under her skirt, his palms smoothing along her legs. She slips her hand inside his jeans, palms his growing hardness, and Gold makes a desperate sort of noise, pressing up against her and then pulling back, scrambling to his feet to shove down his jeans and underwear together, while Belle makes quick work of removing the rest of her clothes and tossing them to the side,  where she spots his discarded vest and, with a small smile, pulls it on over her bare chest.  It feels as good as she had imagined, the suede soft but with just enough of a roughness to its texture to make her very aware of it as it shifts over her breasts, the edges grazing her nipples. Gazing up at Gold, she thinks it’s a good angle, his cock already half hard and lifting away from his body, and she thinks about rising back onto her knees and taking him into her mouth,  but as she shifts onto her knees and curls a hand around his ankle, he braces his hands on her shoulders and lowers himself back down to the blanket, stretching out above her, one hand supporting her lower back, and she lets him ease her down, enjoying the weight of his hips pressing her down against the ground. They kiss, long and slow, and then he begins working his way down her body, touching and tasting, fingers and lips and tongue as her head falls back and her body arches into him.

She buries her fingers in his hair and gazes up into the branches of the tree as he suckles at her breasts. Something glints there, catches the sun and magnifies it. She closes her eyes briefly against it, becomes more aware of the pulse of the music in the background, the pulse of her blood in her veins. She opens her eyes again as his mouth leaves her and he moves further down, leaving her nipples wet and swollen and aching. She looks down at her body as she lifts her hands to cup her own breasts, to tug and pinch at the nipples and sees small rainbows dancing over her chest, her skin dappled in light and shade from the sun filtering through the leaves. She looks up in puzzlement, and then smiles in delight and reaches up as if she could reach the crystals she spots hanging from the branches of the tree, their prisms catching the light and breaking it up into the bands of colour that paint her skin and increase the dreamlike quality of the moment. She knows at once where they’re from, thinking of the box in the shop’s back room full of dismantled chandelier parts, but the knowledge doesn’t lessen their magic.  She traces one along her skin, then takes one of the vest’s long fringes and shifts it back and forth over her nipple, sucking in a breath as it catches briefly before rolling over. Gold runs a hand along her thigh and she lets her legs fall apart and half closes her eyes as his fingers slip inside her, drawing out her moisture and using it to draw slow circles over her clit.

He watches her rolling the fringe back and forth over her nipple, the flesh visibly puckering around the hardening nub,  and his own cock hardens in response. He longs to take her into his mouth, but cannot look away.

“You would fit right in at Woodstock,” he says huskily. “Imagine us there, listening to the music, and I’m standing right behind you, and we’re swaying to the music. You’re wearing nothing but your skirt and that vest, and it’s open, and I’m cupping your breasts in my hands, and playing with your nipples.“

Belle’s hips jerk, as the image goes straight to her core.

Gold dips his fingers into her again, and feels the effect his words are having on her. There’s plenty of slick now, for his thumb to glide easily over her flesh, that light, grazing touch that causes her clit to swell and harden in response. His voice drops in pitch, his Scottish accent strengthening without him being quite aware of it. “There’s people all around us, but it doesn't matter, no one does more than glance our way.” He searches his memory for images from the documentary of the famous concert. “It’d been pouring rain earlier, and your shirt had gone drenched and transparent in minutes. Other people were stripping off their wet things, and you’d boldly done the same; there’s no shame here, no constraints. Bodies are natural, they’re beautiful, there’s no need to hide them.  There’s people with body paint, offering their services. Perhaps we’ll ask one to decorate your breasts; would you like that?”

Belle can’t keep from squirming, her eyes wide as they rake over his smooth, lightly tanned chest and lower, his cock blatantly erect for her.

“If we could paint you, too.  What about you? Is your shirt off?”

“Oh aye, my chest is bare against your back, and my jeans are clinging to me like a second skin, and my cock is straining against the zipper; anyone who looks at me would know how much I want you. I want to take you away from the crowd and find a place to lay you out on the ground and rut into you like a wild beast, but I need you to come first, come on my hands, come for everyone to see  – “ He slid his free hand up her chest, pushing the suede leather of the vest aside, completely baring her front, and cupped her breast in his warm hand, his hips shifting and pressing down against her pubis as he leans over her, thumb being replaced by middle finger, changing the angle, rubbing relentlessly. “Come on, sweetheart,” he urges, kneading her breast, his touch rougher here where she prefers lighter down below. 

The music pulses in time with her blood and Gold’s hair falls forward to hang in his face. He blocks out the sun, he is haloed by it, sun and shade and the scent of grass and incense and she is here and she is there at the same time and his cock is heavy and stiff against her thigh and the hard knot of pleasure bursts within her and she comes with all her muscles clenching tight and her fingers digging into his skin where she’d reached for him. His finger stills against her, knowing not to move again until she relaxes, the tension sagging out of her body, and she feels good but it’s not enough, there’s an aching emptiness inside her that needs to be filled. She sits up abruptly, tumbling him onto his back, and straddles his hips, taking hold of his cock and stroking it firmly. 

“We’ve gone away from the crowd now,” she tells him. “Found a place by the lake, behind some bushes. They offer us some privacy, but we can hear people nearby, going down to the lake, to bathe, to swim. Someone could easily come upon us, if they came in just the right direction.”  She rubs her thumb over his slit, coaxing out a bead of moisture, and he lets out a nearly inaudible whine. “I don’t care, though. I want you, and I don’t want to wait. Are you willing to risk it? Willing to risk someone seeing me riding you into the ground?” 

“Hell, yes.” He can’t wait, either. “Let them see. Let them see a beautiful woman like you wants someone like me.”

“You say “someone like me” as if I’m not dripping wet for you, as if I don’t want to have you buried inside me more than anything in the world,” she says, and rises up, positioning him at her entrance so he can feel the truth of her words. “You have to be quiet,” she warns, mischievously, and sinks down. 

Gold swallows down the noise that wants to escape his throat as she engulfs him. “I don’t know if I can promise that.” He splays his hands out on her waist, just under the edge of the vest, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. Hanging open as it is, the vest only half covers them, baring a lovely wide strip of pale flesh right down the center of her body, adorned only by the love beads she still wore around her neck. As she shifts above him, the edges of the vest fall back, just revealing her nipples, and his cock throbs in response. He bucks up, everything feeling tight, and hot, and urgent. “That vest is a good look on you; we should keep it.”

Belle grins. “I’m glad you think so; I quite like it myself.” She leans forward over him, resting her weight on her hands, and begins to ride him, deliberately shifting continuously in a way that keeps the edges of the vest moving and rubbing against her breasts, her nipples staying hard and sensitive from the teasing friction. She undulates; rising and falling and pleasuring herself on his shaft, the long fringes falling forward as she lowers herself above his body. 

Gold arches up as the leather fringes trail over his belly and swing forward to drag over his nipples, driving himself deeper inside her as he seeks more of the teasing sensation. He cups his hands over her breasts, rolling her nipples between forefinger and thumb, and Belle moans. He grins. “I thought we had to be quiet.”

"I never said I would be." She lifts herself up until just the head of his shaft remains within her, glancing down to see the hard column of his flesh joining their bodies. She tightens her muscles around him, squeezing as hard as she can. 

Gold's whole body jerks as he cries out, his balls tightening and drawing up. He drags her back down upon him and rolls them over, pulling back out just enough to slam forward into her, rocking her backwards. He thrusts into her again, all control gone, feeling his climax rapidly approaching. 

"That's it." Belle braces herself with drawn up knees and urges him on. "Come on, Rum, give it to me." He is all lean, wiry muscle, and dark hair falling forward and shielding his eyes from her view. She arches up into his next thrust, digging her fingers into his lean buttocks and feeling him long and thick and solid inside her. "That's it, so good, come on, come for me."

He snaps his hips forward, driving deep again and again until his body seizes with pleasure and he stills, braced on his forearms with his hips sealed against hers while the hot flood of his release spills inside her. After a few seconds his muscles unclench and he lowers himself to lay atop her, panting and letting his eyes fall shut as he savours the fading rush of ecstasy, his cock twitching a few times in aftershock as he softens inside her. He feels her fingers run through his hair and turns his face into her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin and the smell of crushed grass beneath the blanket, the air moving lightly over his sweaty back. A bird chatters above them, and he realises that the record had stopped playing at some point, unnoticed. He takes in a deep breath and rolls off to the side, blinking up at leaf-dappled sunlight and rainbows dancing in the air. He turns his head to the side and the corner of his mouth quirks up as Belle does the same and meets his eyes. She looks as debauched as he feels. 

"So, Rumpelstiltskin," she says, reaching out to twine her fingers with his. She feels thoroughly well-used and it is about all she has the energy for at the moment. "Do you have any final words for the readers of our paper?"

Gold's smile widens into a grin. "Yeah. Turn on," He draws their joined hands to his lips and presses a kiss to her knuckles.  "Tune in, and drop out." He lifts his free hand and flashes her a peace sign, feeling utterly sated and stupidly happy. He thinks of the box from the estate sale. 

Best buy ever. 

[floatingpetals]

Boys in Blue || Pt. 7

Pairings: cop!Stucky x F!Reader

Warnings: none, maybe language

Word Count: 1800+

Summary: (Cop AU) There was just one crappy thing after enough that happened to her. It possibly couldn’t get any worse, or so she thought until she saw the dreaded flashes of red and blue behind her. Could things get any worse?

A/N: I had totally meant to end this series at this part, but from the feedback, I’ve gotten from you wonderful people I’ve decided to extend it a little bit more. I don’t really have many plans beyond the next part(it’s rough but I have something at least) so the updates might be few and far in between until I can get more ideas. But I know there’s stuff there with this story! This ones a little short, but let me know what ya’ll think! Enjoy! 💕

The gifs are not mine, credit to the owner @aylo22 on weheart.

Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Series Masterlist

“Hey, baby girl.” Bucky purred into the phone. The giggle on the other end made his heart flip in his chest, his lips stretching into a wide grin. Steve snorted beside him in the car, rolling his eyes at the way Bucky practically preened at making Y/N tittered on the other end. “What are you doin’ for dinner?”

“Not sure actually. I just opened my fridge and the left-over chicken from last week just growled at me,” Y/N snorted. “I’ll have to get some safety gloves and tackle that later.”

“So in other words, your free tonight?” Bucky asked hopefully.

For the past two weeks since their little fiasco with Y/N, things picked up for the three of them job wise. Y/N was suddenly slammed by a sudden influx of new clients and reluctantly had to work longer hours to keep up with the sudden demand. Then for Bucky and Steve, they were short a few officers since flu season started to hit and put a good chunk of the officers out of commission for a while. Since neither of them had families and lived together, they didn’t want those on the force who need to spend time with their loved ones to pick up the time of those that were getting sick. It meant that they had less time to see Y/N than they would have liked, but she assured them to do what they needed.

However, just within the last two days, Bucky finally got his results back from the sergeant test he took. He had been a wreck of nerves for the week leading up to it and then a wreck the time it took to get back to him. Now he was officially, Sergeant James B. Barnes. It rolled off the tongue pretty nicely. He had yet had a chance to tell Y/N the good news. Steve told him she’d probably start screaming and tackle him to the ground; that week of the exam was quite taxing on them all with how on edge Bucky was, and she would be thrilled to know their suffering wasn’t in vain. Bucky didn’t want to tell her over text or have her read it over his shoulder like Steve had. He wanted to take his best girl out for a nice, peaceful dinner and tell her there. Today would have been the first time in two weeks he’d get that chance.

“Yeah, I’m on board! Is Steve gonna be with you?”

“Ah, yeah about that.” He shot Steve an apologetic look over the center console of the car. Steve frowned when he heard the question, pouting as he drove back to the precinct. “Steve may or may not have already agreed to work his last late-night shift tonight.”

“What? Again?”

“Yeah again.” Bucky sighed. “I wouldn’t hold it against him though. I don’t think Michael meant to get hit by that druggy earlier and need to get admitted to the hospital.”

“Oh.”

“But on the plus side, we’ve been told by fury that because of all the overtime we’ve been taking we don’t have to work weekends for the next six weeks. Everyone else should be comin’ back from their sick leave and will pick up the slack.”

“Well,” Y/N started slowly, sounding incredibly guilty as she spoke. As if spending alone time with Bucky was bad. “I guess that’s good. Still a bummer I don’t get to have dinner with him tonight.”

Steve turned his head sharply and stuck out his hand. Hands-free driving be damned. He needed to nip that doubt in the ass real quick. Bucky bit his lip to hide his smile at the strange mix of fury and determination on Steve’s face and passed the phone over.

“Y/N.” Steve began. “I can hear you worrying about what I think about you and Bucky. I don’t mind if you want to go out and have dinner with him alone. I really don’t. Yeah, I’ll be upset that I don’t get to see you right away after us having to spend so much time apart, but it’s not because you’re spending time with Bucky and not me. I will never be upset about that. Okay?”

Y/N was silent on the other side of the line, mulling over his words. It was still surprising how observant they both were. She couldn’t hide anything from them if she wanted to. They always seemed to know when something was bothering her, even if there was distance between them. Y/N didn’t want to create a rift between them because of her. In her mind, if she spent time with one, it meant the other was left out in the cold. Maybe they’d see it as her picking favorites, which she never could. But Bucky and Steve both were surprising her at every corner, shoving aside those nagging doubts that taunted her daily. It made her smile and let out a heavy breath.

“Okay. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t miss you.”

“Same, sweetheart,” Steve replied, his tone melting as the adoration seemed in. “I’ll miss you too. But at least now all three of us will have weekends off. We always have tomorrow.”

“That’s true.” Y/N agreed. “Be safe tonight.”

“Always will.” He chuckled softly and said a quick goodbye before passing the phone back to Bucky. The brunette grinned and ran a hand through his hair.

“Anything you have in mind tonight?”

“No way! Are you serious?!”

Bucky nodded vigorously and beamed at Y/N, the corners of his eyes crinkling almost to the point he was squinting as he told Y/N about his exam results. Y/N could barely contain her squeal and debated on whether or not it was socially acceptable to leap across the table and tackle him to the ground. 

“Holy shit that’s amazing! Congratulations Bucky!” Y/N gushed, pride swelling in her chest. For weeks Bucky panicked over this test and now he finally knew that it was worth all the stress. “Does Steve know?”

“Yeah, he saw it over my shoulder when I got the letter.”

“They still send them in letters?” Y/N stopped and quickly waved a hand in the air. “Nope. Not important. Holy shit!”

Bucky laughed and ducked his chin, his cheeks blossoming into a bright pink.

“Yeah, that was Steve’s second reaction too.” He bit his lip at the memory. He had just read over the lines, saw his score and then was suddenly he was swept up in Steve’s arms, who quickly peppered the entirety of his face with giddy albeit sloppy kisses.

“Well, now I really feel bad he’s not here.” Y/N sat back in her chair. “He should be celebrating with us too! After all, he lived with you through hell week.”

“Hey now.” Bucky raised a finger. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“Steve left you in a gas station parking lot because you wouldn’t stop bitching about whether or not you memorized enough for the exam. It was that bad.”

Bucky let his finger fall, his cheeks burning bright once again. Okay yeah, maybe he was that bad.

“Well,” Bucky sighed and toyed the rim of his glass. “I do apologize for being a pain in the ass. But I am grateful you were both there for me to keep me in line. I don’t want to think about how crazy I’d be without you both.”

“You’d be fine. Probably running on less sleep than you’d need, but in the end, you’d pass all the same.” Y/N grinned.

“We’ll call it payback for our first interaction,” Bucky smirked before he took a long sip of beer. Y/N groaned and threw her head back.

“Are you ever going to let me live that one down?”

“Not anytime soon.”

“You’re such a jerk.” Y/N giggled in spite of her annoyance. Bucky laughed, fully aware there was no bite behind her snark and grabbed fry from the basket between them. He chewed thoughtfully, letting his gaze wander over her face for a quiet moment. She couldn’t stop the bashful grin spreading across her lips, biting her lip when she caught sight of the intensity behind his gaze. “What?”

Bucky didn’t respond right away, taking his time to swallow before he let out a content sigh and leaned forward with his arms crossed on the table. Y/N cocked her head to the side, Bucky’s wide grin infectious.

“Seriously,” She chuckled. “What? Do I have something on my face? Do I have ketchup up my nose again?”

Y/N grabbed her napkin and began dabbing at her nose. It wouldn’t have been the first time she made an idiot of herself in front of him, she thought now almost completely unfazed by whatever funny joke life threw her way. Fortunately, her awkward and slightly embarrassing moments didn’t faze the two in the slightest. Bucky shook his head and laughed lightly as he took hold of one of her hands. His thumb brushed along the back of her hand, a simple yet tender touch.

“Nothing, on your face baby girl.” He answered. “Just can’t get over how lucky am I am to have you and Steve.”

Alright, so maybe them telling her how much they cared about her was enough to make her heart skip several beats. Y/N felt her face heat up, a giddy giggle exploding from her lips as she ducked her chin. It caused Bucky to beam, his heart fluttering and pound in his chest at the sound. Yes, he is incredibly lucky. Who wouldn’t be with one insanely handsome boyfriend as well as an equally gorgeous girlfriend? Life couldn’t get any better.

“You’re too sweet, Buck.” Y/N said and squeezed his hand. Bucky rolled his eyes and let her fingers go to sit back in the booth. 

“Nah. Just statin’ facts.”

“Well, then I guess I have to admit I’m so thankful you decided to pull me over that fateful afternoon. Because I keep thinking about how lucky I am to have  you too.” She replied, her adoration seeping into her voice. 

Now it was Bucky’s turn to blush and duck his chin to hide his sappy grin. He let out a hearty laugh and shook his head. 

“You know if Steve was here, he’d call us both saps and to get a room.” 

Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes. “Oh please, if Steve was here, he’d be tearing up and pretending it was his allergies or something.” 

“Oh absolutely.” Bucky agreed immediately. “He was the first one to cry when we watched the Titanic together. Tried to play it off all cool like he wasn’t just sobbing into a tissue, but I saw what I saw.” 

“Oh god,” Y/N could picture it perfectly. Her giggles rose into a peal of hearty laughter as Bucky began telling her more stories of their third. He wasn’t there to defend himself, an opportunity Bucky was more than happy to take. 

Seeing Y/N let loose and not care that she was getting stares from people around them thrilled Bucky. All her attention was on him. He was the one who was making her snort through her laughter. It made his chest buff out with pride as well as back up his earlier thought. Life couldn’t get any better.

Perma Tag: (CLOSED)

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[aelia-likes-monsters]

The Wedding Date

Characters: Male Orc, Female Reader Rating: LEMON Content: NSFW, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Chubby Female Reader Word Count: ~6800

Notes: This is a “fake dating” commission for @hufflesmonsters <3 

Story is also available on AO3

And now this story has art! Check out this piece by @pyxyydraws

“Are you bringing a date to the wedding?” Your mom asked.

“Maybe,” you said, leaning your hip against the kitchen counter and staring at the calendar; your perfect, successful, younger sister’s wedding was in a month.“I don’t want to rush things with the boyfriend. You know the impression it sends when you drag them to weddings. Then there’s all the extra stuff since I’m a bridesmaid, so it won’t be fun for him.”  

Also, you didn’t want to bring him because he wasn’t real but you weren't going to admit that to your mother. When Anna had mentioned her engagement everyone had been so excited, but they’d also turned to you and started asking questions. Why aren’t you dating? Why are you still single? Do you have a job yet? So you’d lied. You’d lied your ass off, and now you had to keep up the lies. As far as your family knew, your boyfriend was gorgeous, successful, madly in love with you, and had been for eight months.

“Just bring him, darling. All of us want to meet him!” Your mother said, ignoring all of your protests. “We’re having a family barbeque this weekend and going over some details, you should bring him by! Finally introduce him to everyone! I insist.”

You grimaced. Maybe you could fake break-up? Fake an emergency for him the morning of? You’d figure it out. You had to.

“Sounds good mom, I’ve gotta go now though. Love you! Bye!”

You hung up the phone and buried your face in your hands. You had no idea what you were going to do, but the pressure was on. You were running out of time to figure this out.

Two days later you were sitting at your favorite coffee shop, sipping a latte and enjoying a croissant. You were no closer to solving your problem, and had even considered hiring an escort for the wedding. It might be pathetic, but at least you wouldn’t be alone.

It was then that opportunity literally fell into your lap as a tall orc tripped on someone’s laptop bag, slammed into your table, and practically face-planted into your cleavage. In the process, he sent your latte cup flying, and spilled his own coffee, coating both of you in the sticky beverage. You bit back a string of curse words and shoved away from the table, looking at the disaster that had just befallen you.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?!” The orc who had just landed on you asked, rolling off your table and onto his knees beside you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You opened your mouth to give him an earful, and abruptly closed it. First, because he was gorgeous. He had dark hair, braided and pulled back into a ponytail that cascaded over his shoulders, and a dark, neatly trimmed beard. His tusks were clean, unchipped, and banded with silver, which drew attention to full lips that you wanted to nibble on. He was dressed well, in a button up shirt that fit him like it was made for him, and nice slacks, though both were covered in coffee.

Secondly, and more importantly, you knew him. You’d gone to high school with him. Karthurg had been a bit of a loner, but the two of you had been friendly. You’d never been close friends, so you had lost touch after graduation, but it seemed fate had brought him back into your life at just the right moment.

Because you needed a date, and this beautiful man might just be it.

“Are you okay?” He asked again, and you realized you must have been staring at him silently for far too long. You met his eyes--as blue as you remembered, and still framed with gorgeous long lashes-- and blushed.

“Oh. Shit, I’m sorry. Yeah, I’m okay. I just….” You were abruptly aware of your soggy clothes, and of the latte that you’d been enjoying, which was now soaking into your cute slacks and the drapey blouse you were wearing. You glanced down. Not only was there foam and coffee soaking into the fabric, but it was also making your clothes cling to you. On a skinnier girl, you thought the look might be sexy. On you, it just made you hyper-aware of how big you were.

“I’m sorry,” Karthurg said, grabbing a towel from one of the staff members who had rushed over to help clean up the mess. He raised his hand as if to wipe coffee off your blouse, but rethought the gesture. His eyes flickered to yours, and a blush stained his cheeks. He handed the towel to you, and let you wipe the coffee off yourself.

“I know you,” You said, blurting the words out finally.

Karthurg laughed. “A lot of people know me.” He said, continuing to clean himself up. “Comes with the job.”

“What?” You asked, pausing mid-wipe. “I don’t know what that means. We went to school together, Karthurg.”

Karthurg also stopped what he was doing, and looked at you. He seemed to really look at you for the first time since he fell on you. His eyes widened, and his lips curved into a grin that would have wet your panties if they weren’t already soaked with coffee.

“Well shit, you do know me. It’s been a while.” Karthurg sat back on his heels and cocked his head to one side, really taking you in. “In that case, if you’re interested I live near here and have an in-unit washer dryer. Since we’re old friends, it’s not as weird if I offer to wash your clothes for you.”

You thought about your plans for the day; about the job interview you were supposed to be at in a few short hours, and the coffee staining your clothes. You could go home and change, but you thought spending some time with Karthurg might be more interesting. Besides, there were other jobs, and you weren’t particularly excited by the one you were interviewing for today.

“Yeah, okay.” You said, gathering up your things. “It’d be good to catch up, too.”

Thirty minutes later you were freshly showered and sitting on Karthurg’s couch, wearing a pair of his exercise shorts and a t-shirt that stretched obscenely over your chest. You were self conscious, but there was nothing for it; your clothes were in the wash. For his part, Karthurg wore jeans that hung low on his hips, and a t-shirt that hugged his muscles. When he moved you could just see hints of green skin between his shirt and his jeans and you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Gods he was a beautiful man.

“So,” you said, sipping the replacement coffee he’d made you. “Why is it that people know you?”

“I model,” he said, taking a seat near you. He stated it matter-of-factly, though you thought you caught a hint of a blush.

“Wait,” You reached into your oversized purse and retrieved a magazine you read on the train. You flipped through it, and opened it to an ad; an orc sprawled across the page, visible from his tusks down to his thighs. It was an underwear ad that you’d enjoyed seeing earlier. You looked from it to Karthurg and blushed brightly. “This is… you?”

“Yeah.” He smiled, clearly amused by your reaction. “That’s only the most recent.”

“Holy shit, no wonder you assumed I was a fan at first.” You laughed. “You must have tons.”

“Eh,” He shrugged, and took a sip of his coffee without making eye contact. “There’s a few, but most folks who pursue me don’t recognize me, they just think I’m pretty.”

“You are.” You said, before quickly drinking coffee to stop whatever else was going to come out of  your mouth. It gave your brain time to catch up, to process, to keep you from embarrassing yourself completely. “So, I have a ridiculous favor to ask you, as a long time friend?”

“I like to think we were friends, yeah,” Karthurg said, that flirtatious smile back on his face.

“My sister is getting married in a month,” You told him. “And between now and then there’s some family gatherings that I need to go to. I might have told my family I have a boyfriend…” You couldn’t look at him for this part. This was too pathetic to admit. “I don’t.”

“You’re single?” He said, and you heard him shift in his seat, but you still couldn’t make yourself look at him.

“Yeah, embarrassing, right?” You sighed. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but do you think you could pretend to be my boyfriend for a few events?”

“I’m in.” He said, so quickly that you knew he hadn’t thought about it.

You gaped at him, but he was just smiling at you, that mischievous twinkle that you remembered from high school in his eye. Karthurg had always been down to cause trouble, it was part of what had drawn you to him then, though you worried that now that penchant for trouble would be less endearing.

“Well, let me get you up to speed then…”

“Are you ready?” You asked Karthurg, your grip tight enough on the steering wheel to whiten your knuckles.

“Yes. It will be okay,” He reached over and pulled your hands off the wheel. He held onto them until you turned to look at him. “I know you. I’ve known you for years. I’m also very good at small talk, and if worst comes to worst I’ll just rip off my shirt and flex until nobody remembers what they were talking about.”

You laughed, picturing him standing on the buffet table flexing like a living statue.

“There’s my girl,” he teased. Your belly flip-flopped. You liked hearing that too much for your own good. You held his gaze, and let yourself pretend for a few seconds that this was real. Then, before the fantasy could run away with you and set you up for heartbreak, you pulled your hands from his.

“Let’s do this.” You said.

Later, you’d be hard pressed to remember the entire family barbeque, but some moments stood out to you. Your mother had been pleased as punch to “finally meet the mystery man.” She’d made a point of pulling you aside later and telling you that she was happy you were happy. The guilt had sat heavy in your stomach, so you’d chased it away with a beer.

Your sister had practically had to wipe the drool off her chin when she saw Karthurg. You’d laughed at the look on her face, and the thumbs up she’d given you. You’d kept him away from her mostly; your sister might drive you crazy, but she was also one of your closest friends, and she’d see right through the bullshit.

Throughout the afternoon, you remember his hand on the small of your back, keeping you close while he spoke to people and charmed literally everyone (but especially your Aunties.) You remember the way he kept your plate full of snacks, and he was careful to make sure you got enough water to balance out the beer you were drinking. You especially remember the moment when he leaned down to whisper something in your ear, because his lips had just brushed your earlobe, and you’d nearly combusted.

As the afternoon turned into evening, your mother “stole you away” to talk about wedding stuff. You’d glanced at Karthurg in desperation, but he’d just laughed at you, and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. You’d blushed brightly, and his grin had grown bigger, but he hadn’t saved you. Instead he’d turned back to his conversation with your father about… whatever it was they were discussing.

That part you pushed out of your mind; it was all stuff to do with the wedding. Things that, in the moment you remembered, and you even jotted down in the notebook, like a good maid of honor. But your mind was on Karthurg. On the feel of his hands on your back.

When it was over, you’d rushed out of there, and right to his side. Karthurg had pulled you close, held you as he finished his conversation with your dad. Then you’d said your goodbyes, and left. Karthurg had driven you both home in your car, because you’d had too much to drink (not normally your style, but you were stressed.)

The bits between leaving the barbecue and waking up the next morning were a little fuzzy. You remember Karthurg telling you he had fun, and him helping you upstairs and into your apartment. You also thought you remembered- gods had you propositioned him? You think you did. Immediately you felt the need to text him.

You >> I’m sorry if I behaved inappropriately last night. Karth >> You didn’t cross any lines. How’s your head? You >> Ehh. It’s bad, but it could be worse. Thank you for yesterday. You >> I really am sorry if I… said anything that made you feel weird. Karth >> No problem. It was fun. You didn’t. Karth >> Drink the water on the nightstand. It’s good for you. You >> <3 Omg you left me medicine and water?! You’re amazing. Karth >> I know. <3

He was so sweet. You couldn’t handle this. You were half in love with him already, and you knew it was only going to get worse. Your mom had texted you an itinerary of events that she expected you to bring Karthurg to now that she’d met him and decided she liked him. It was bad; she’d gone ahead and planned extra things just to torture you. You were sure of it.

You forwarded him the list with dates and times. He shot back confirmation that he could make it to nearly everything. Oh joy, you thought. On the one hand, you were genuinely delighted you’d get to spend more time with him, because it was easy with him. It didn’t feel fake. Last night had felt comfortable. You trusted him. On the other hand, this was awful precisely because it was so easy. You were falling fast, and you were falling hard, and you were sure to get your heart broken.

You’d do this to save face, and you’d get through Anna’s wedding, because you loved your sister. You sometimes wanted to throttle her, and you hated that you always got compared to her and found lacking, but you loved her. But afterward, you were going to let Karthurg go and nurse the inevitable heartbreak.

You had to.

Family dinner with Karthurg. Brunch with Anna, her fiancee, the bridesmaids, and Karthurg. Finalizing hair and makeup, helping Anna with a million checklists, dragging Karthurg along to about a million things that you’re certain the maid-of-honor’s boyfriend wouldn’t normally be invited to, except that your family had decided they loved Karthurg. The big, beautiful orc was so sweet and patient and happy to help that you were dying a little more each day, too.

Today you were helping your mother and Anna with wedding favors. Anna was adding her own labels to bottles of sparkling wine, beer, and fizzy juice for guests to take home after the ceremony, wrapping it in tulle, and adding a bow with a cute note. It was a bit of a pain, but the other bridesmaids had helped yesterday with the labels, and now you and Karthurg were here to help with the tulle and the bows.

You and Anna were working on the coffee table in the sitting room, which adjoined the dining room. Karthurg was at the dining table, teasing your mother and making her laugh as they twisted the tulle and added blue ribbons. You were watching them, and you must have had some kind of sappy look on your face, because Anna’s elbow caught you in the ribs and jerked you out of your reverie.

“You’ve got it bad, huh?” She said, giving you a grin.

“I…” You were torn between denying it and agreeing. You looked from your sister, to the gorgeous orc at the table. “It’s just great that he’s so good with mom. You remember my last boyfriend.”

“Oof. Yeah, he was awful. You only kept him around because mom hated him.” Anna said with an eye roll.

“I came out here to help you, and I feel really attacked right now.” You said with a laugh.

“You know I’m right.” She jostled you again. “I’m glad he makes you happy. It’s been too long since I saw that look on your face.”

“Girls! If you can’t talk and work, don’t talk!” Your mother barked from the dining table. “We’ve got to get all 200 of these done today!”

“Yes mom,” Anna said, giving you a little eye roll. You bit back a laugh, and got back to work.

Part of you was relieved. You didn’t want to talk about what was going on with Karthurg, and you were so close to telling Anna everything. She didn’t need that, not right now, with her wedding so close. There was too much on her plate already.

You glanced over at the dining room again. Karthurg was looking at you, a soft look on his face. He was so good at this faking thing that you could believe he was really your boyfriend sometimes. Your eyes met, and he gave you a smile that melted you. Gods I do have it bad. This was going to hurt. You smiled back.

That night he held your hand as he walked you out to the car. His hands were big and warm and soft, and his fingers wrapped around yours gently. He helped you into his car carefully, and he smiled down at you in a way that made your stomach flutter, though nobody watching from inside the house could have seen it. It made everything feel more real. The entire drive home you watched his hands on the steering wheel, and imagined how they might feel on your body.

Karthurg parked outside your apartment building, and walked you to your front door. You wanted to invite him inside. The words were on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t quite get them out.

Karthurg leaned down slowly. He closed the distance between the two of you carefully, stopping with only the smallest distance between his lips and yours, leaving the choice to you. You gave him a brief, chaste kiss, and then pulled back, blushing brightly. What was that?

Karthurg stood up again with a grin. “Have a good night, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said, before taking a big step back and turning to leave, that smile still on his face.

“Yeah, tomorrow.” You said, still a little dazed. You watched him walk away, and fought the urge to brush your fingers against your lips. You were not a silly teenager, or a character in a romance story. You were a strong, independent woman, dammit.

But dang was he cute. You smiled to yourself, and headed into your apartment.

Morning came too soon, and sweet dreams about Karthurg were rudely interrupted by someone pounding on your front door. You grumbled your way out of bed, pulled on an oversized t-shirt and yanked the door open to rip them a new one.

“Good morning, gorgeous,” Karthurg said, greeting you with a smile that was far too cheerful.

“Why are you here so early?” was all you managed to say in response as you glared up at his beautiful face. You knew that the look on your face said you were thinking about homicide, but he was cheery as could be. In that moment, you hated him.

“Your mother called. Apparently today’s schedule got bumped up. When you didn’t answer her many phone calls she called me.” The big, gorgeous orc held up a takeout tray with paper coffee cups and a paper bag full of food. “I come with offerings, but you need to get a move on. We don’t have much time and you…” he looked down, “are not wearing much.”

Maybe later you’d be embarrassed, but in the moment you knew the damage would be done, and whatever he’d brought smelled delicious.

“Food first. Pants after.” You said, dragging him into the kitchen.

Without comment, Karthurg gave you a breakfast sandwich and one of the paper cups. You nearly inhaled both. He was quiet as both of you ate, and every time you looked at him, he seemed to be staring intently at something that wasn’t you. The lack of pants seemed to be stressing him out; you’d think an underwear model of all things could handle a woman less than fully dressed. Though you supposed most of the women he was around were skinnier and prettier and… you stopped that thought. Down that path was insecurity and hurt feelings. You knew better than to go there.

“Thank you for bringing me food.” You said. “I just need to grab a quick shower, and then we can go do… I don’t remember. Whatever today’s ridiculous wedding prep is.”

“I think today is place cards and finalizing the seating chart?” Karthurg said, after glancing at his phone.

“Ugh. If I ever get married, I’m eloping. This is absurd.” You stuffed the remains from breakfast into the trash. “If you can think up a good excuse for us to miss this, I’ll love you forever.”

Karthurg choked on the coffee he was drinking.

“You okay?” You asked, rushing to his side.

“Yeah, just… can’t breathe coffee.” He waved you off. “Go shower. I’ll be here.”

When you emerged after a speedy shower, you emerged to hear Karthurg getting off the phone. He was busy assuring someone that he’d “keep them up to date,” and that he was “so sorry.”

“What was that?” You asked when he finally stuck his phone back in his pocket.

“Only me being the best fake boyfriend you’ll ever have,” he said. “We had a minor car issue and I’m not sure but I am afraid it’s going to take all day to get it taken care of… unfortunately I don’t think we can help today.”

“You didn’t?!” You launched yourself at him, and gave him a huge hug. “You’re the best.”

He hugged you back, and it felt so good that you were overwhelmed. Why couldn’t this be real? Karthurg was a great friend. He’d be an amazing boyfriend, too, you were sure. But this “fake dating” thing was so complicated already, and you didn’t know if you’d get out of it unscathed.  

“Yeah, but you’re not rid of me.” His voice broke through your thoughts. “We’re going to go do something fun. What do you want to do?”

“That’s a hard choice. There’s too many options.” You said. “Narrow it down some.”

“Hm. Beach or a park or something else entirely?”

“Oh! The museum? There’s an exhibit that’s on loan that I was hoping to see?” You grabbed his arm in excitement, and he smiled down at you. The look on his face was soft.

“Sounds like a fun day.” He said with a smile.

And it really was.

You took your sweet time exploring the museum, wandering the halls and looking at the many exhibits. You found that having someone like Karthurg was actually better than when you came alone, because he was there to listen to you gush about the things that excited you, and to discuss things that he liked, too. And he was patient, letting you take your time looking at things, strolling along at a comfortable speed. Lunch was from the museum cafe, but the food was tasty, and you could look out over dinosaur fossils while you ate.

“I’m glad we ran into each other again,” Karthurg said.

“Me, too.” You wanted to say more. You wanted to tell him how much you’d like spending time with him this last month, how you looked forward to texts from him. How you’d laughed more with him than you had in a long time. But you didn’t want to make things weird, or burden him with expectations, so you bit your tongue, and looked out over the museum again.

Karthurg, seeming to take his cue from you, didn’t say anything either. You tried to tell yourself you were overthinking things, but you felt like maybe you’d screwed something up.

When you finally made it to the basement, where the full arctic dinosuar exhibit was on display, Karthurg’s hand brushed against yours. You startled, but then his fingers wrapped around yours and held on. It was nice, and it didn’t feel like he was pushing anything, so you tried to just enjoy it.

He held your hand all the way back to the car.

You were both quiet during the drive back to your place. When he parked, he gripped your hand, and caught your eye.

“I like you. A lot.” Karthurg paused, and you tried to remember how to breathe. Was he about to give you a ‘just friends’ speech? Signs pointed to no, but you’d been wrong before.

The silence stretched, like Karthurg was searching for words. You bit your lip, and waited, knowing that if you spoke you’d probably say the wrong thing and ruin whatever this was.

“I like-like you,” he said. And then, as the absurdity of his words hit him, he dropped his head back on the seat and groaned. “I swear, I’m an adult, it’s just… I had the biggest crush on you in high school, and here you are again, as gorgeous as ever, and I have another opportunity, and all I can think is ‘pretty girl, wanna kiss’ and it’s making me dumb.”

“Well shit.” You said, not really able to say anything more intelligent. Your brain had sort of short-circuited after hearing him call you gorgeous, especially since he’d apparently had a thing for you for years. “Do you want to come upstairs then?”

“Absolutely.” He said.

You got up the stairs to your apartment in record time. There was a moment, as you locked the door, where you found yourself wondering if this was real. But then his big hands found your hips, and pulled you back against him, and you realized that no, this was really happening.

“Not having second thoughts, are you?” He asked, his tusk teasing the shell of your ear.  His hands skimmed up under your shirt, just brushing the sensitive skin of your belly. You melted against him.

“No.” You said, your voice more of a purr. “But I think you still owe me some kisses.”

You turned in his arms, and reached up, pulling him down so you could press your lips to his. He was soft, and warm, and tasted vaguely of the peppermint candies he liked to snack on. His arms slid around you, and then his hands were cupping your butt. And then he was lifting you up like you were weightless, and you were gasping into his mouth. It was exhilarating but also terrifying.

“I have definitely thought about this” he informed you as he carried you over to your couch.  You squeaked in alarm and wrapped your legs around him, and held onto him for dear life. He just chuckled in amusement as it made all the soft parts of you press hard against him. “I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

“I’m going to hurt you!” you insisted.

“No, babe. You’re soft and squishy in all the right places, but you’re not too big for this.” Carrying you an extra circuit around the apartment to make his point before he sat down on the couch.  With you straddling him like this, your faces were nearly level, so you were looking into his eyes.

He opened his mouth to say more, but you silenced him with a kiss. This was getting to be too much too fast. Too many emotions, and you couldn’t process it all right now. But kissing? That you could handle. So you did. You brought your hands up to cup his jaw, your fingers sinking into the scratchy-soft hair of his beard as you held him. You slid your tongue along his lips, and when he opened his mouth, you dove in, tangling your tongue with his and pillaging. Laying claim. He groaned, and wrapped his arms tight around your waist. You felt one of his hands come up to cradle the back of your head, pulling you tight against him.

You shifted, grinding your pelvises together and creating friction that had you both panting as you kissed the corners of his lips, where his tusks jutted up. You would have done more teasing, but Karthurg had other plans, shifting so that he was kissing the side of your neck. The feeling of his lips, his tusks, and his beard was enough to drive you to distraction.

One of his hands worked between you and cupped one of your breasts, and even through the fabric he managed to zero in on a nipple. He pinched it gently, and you arched into it, chasing the feeling.

“Hey,” he murmured between nips. “Bed?”

“Yes.” You purred. Maybe rushing things was bad. If it was, you’d deal with it later. Right now all you could think was that Karthurg was the sweet and gorgeous and you l- nope. Not going there. You like-liked him.

As you giggled at your stupid thought, Karthurg scooped you up again, and with some directions from you, carried you to your bed. He threw you onto it in a way that made you bounce, but he looked smug.

“Damn you’re pretty,” he said. “Wanna get naked and let me see how lucky I really am?”

“When you ask so nicely…” you hopped back off the bed. You could try to turn this into a sexy strip-tease, but you know yourself. So instead you slide your pants off, and then look at Karthurg expectantly. “Well?”

He grinned and took his time removing his own pants.

“You damn near killed me this morning when I saw you wearing that shirt and no pants,” he admitted. “All I could think of was touching your thighs.” He stepped closer, invading your space, pulling your shirt off over your head as he spoke. “Touching and tasting what’s between them. Making you scream my name.”

“Oh.” You smiled, and shimmied out of your bra and panties, so you were standing there naked. “I like that idea. Let’s do that.”

“I like when you’re agreeable like this,” He picked you up- again, the showoff- and set you back on the bed, stripped off the rest of his clothes, and climbed into bed with you. He rolled you onto your back and pinned you, pressing  you down into the soft mattress with his weight as he kissed you, softly at first, and then with more intensity.

He worked his way down to your neck, and then your chest. He lavished attention upon your breasts, having noticed how you reacted in the living room to a simple touch. Here, with his hands and his fingers he teased you until you were quivering with need.

“Karthurg,” you whined.

“Yes?”

“I want more.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You pushed at him, and he obliged by rolling onto his back, and looking at you with a hungry smile.

“Remember what I said about those gorgeous thighs of yours?” You nodded, and he continued. “Come sit on my face, pretty girl.”

You felt greedy, taking your pleasure like this when you hadn’t done anything for him yet, but at the same time, it was exciting. So you crawled up the bed, and settled yourself with your thighs on either side of his head.

“If I need you to lift up, I’ll tap, otherwise you stay put.” Karthurg said, before tugging you down so your pussy was pressed to his face.

His tongue immediately went to work, delving into your wet folds, laving over you and teasing you. His nose nudged against your clit. His tusks scraped gently against your outer lips as he feasted. His hands wrapped around your thighs, sinking into your soft skin as he held you tight, and soon you felt yourself losing control. You fell forward, and struggled to hold yourself up as his tongue thrust into you and his nose rubbed your clit and he devoured you.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned as your first orgasm rolled over you. He kept going, teasing more out of you, drawing it out, until your legs were shaking and you were nearly ready to pull away in overstimulated desperation.

He slowed though, and let you relax. And then his fingers loosened, and he tapped. You lifted away, and he slid out from under you, his tongue cleaning his lips like a smug cat.

“Didn’t hear my name though.” He said. “Guess I’ll have to make you cum again.”

You laughed, but gave his weeping erection a meaningful glance. “Can’t I do anything for you?”

“Whatever you want.” He said. “Though unless you have condoms…”

“I absolutely do.” You said, diving for the nightstand drawer. There was a box inside, one you’d purchased not too long ago in idle hope. You flipped it and checked the expiration. “No latex allergy?”

“No,” Karthurg replied. “There’s other types I like more, but that’ll do.”

“Noted,” you said, and ripped open the box. You separated one from the rest, then crawled back to Karthurg. You knelt beside him, and grinned, your fingers sliding over the tip of his penis, rubbing the precum around. “There’s a few things I’d like to enjoy first though; latex doesn’t taste so good.”

“Like I said, whatever you-” his words became a groan as you sucked the tip of his cock into your mouth. You ran your tongue over him as you took as much as you could, exploring the bumps and ridges as you went. “Oh fuck.”

Your gag reflex was too strong to do anything fancy, but you got your hands involved, wrapping one hand around the length you couldn’t fit into your mouth. You worked your hand and head in synch, so all of his cock was getting attention. Karthurg brought one of his hands to the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair; holding on, but letting you set the pace.

You felt his body tighten, heard the way his breath sped up, and you backed away, slowing down. He groaned, and laughed.

“You are wicked,” he said. “So cruel.”

You did it again; bringing him right to the edge and then backing off. Karthurg didn’t hurry you along. You felt his fingers tighten in your hair, but didn’t press your head down or try to force anything. He just groaned in beautiful complaint when you slowed.

His penis slipped from between your lips with a deliberate ‘pop’ as you sat back. The fingers that had been tangled in your hair stroked your cheek as you moved; a soft caress. You looked at your handiwork proudly; Karthurg lay there, watching you, breathing hard, clearly right on the edge.

“You think you can last until I cum again?” You asked, rolling the condom onto him.

“I’m game to try. And if I don’t, you’ll still get another.”

“Excellent answer,” you said, straddling him. You lowered yourself slowly, savoring the stretch. He was big, but not uncomfortably so, and he filled you perfectly.  You rolled your hips. Karthurg’s eyes shut, and his brows drew low as he concentrated on lasting. His hands slid along your thighs, before settling on your hips.

You ran your hands over his gorgeous chest as you rode him and took your pleasure. Your finger brushed one of his nipples, and he jerked. Of course that meant you had to keep teasing him. He struggled to last.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m so close.”

“I’m getting there,” You caught one of his hands, brought it down so he could rub your clit.

He understood what you wanted, circling the sensitive nub with his fingers, pressing just-so and speeding up as you built toward your second climax. And then you were there, rushing over the edge. You fell forward, trapping his hand between you, but Karthurg was right behind you, slamming into you with a few more thrusts and a long groan.

The two of you lay there for a moment, just catching your breath. He slipped out of you, hanging onto the condom. You rolled off him, and headed for the bathroom to clean up some.

“Shower, then dinner?” You asked.

“Yes, please.”

Later, after dinner, and more sex, and a lot more kissing, when Karthurg snored quietly in your bed, you lay awake. What the hell were you doing? You wondered. Sleeping with your fake boyfriend seemed like a great way to complicate things. But, was he fake? Him still being here, one of his arms draped over you, clinging to you even as he slept, suggested he wasn’t faking, and maybe never had been.

Had you ever been faking with him? Maybe at first, when you hadn’t let yourself believe it could be real, but your feelings had gotten tangled up in this pretty fast. Karthurg was the sweetest guy you’d ever dated, fake or otherwise.

There were three days until the wedding. After that, you could ask the messy questions like “what are we, really?” and “I know we were faking but I have real feelings and do you want to stick around?” And then came the part you dreaded, admitting to your family that you’d lied.

This was going to suck.

But it would be worth it, right?

As if on cue, Karthurg pulled you closer. Yeah, it would be, you decided.

The morning of the wedding was chaos. Between the hundred last minute crises that your mother fluttered over, to helping to get Anna ready, and wrangle her other bridesmaids, you very nearly forgot to eat. Late in the morning, a knock at the door signaled the arrival of food, and one very handsome orc.

“Delivery for a gorgeous lady,” Karthurg said.

“You’re the best,” you said, taking the tray of bite-sized snacks from him, and quickly handing it off to one of the other girls.

You stepped out of the room, and looked him over. He was already suited up, in a navy blue ensemble that would complement your bridesmaid dress without making him look like a member of the wedding party. Gods did you love a man in a suit. You were mentally undressing him already.

“Hey, my eyes are up here,” he said with a laugh.

“Can’t blame a girl for appreciating the view,” you said.

“Can’t blame me, either then.” He looked you over, then leaned down and whispered in your ear “You make that dress look so good I can’t wait to peel it off you later.”  You know you must have turned bright red, but his smile was wicked, and he didn’t look even a little bit apologetic.  “I won’t keep you, I know you’re busy.”

And though you were beyond frustrated with him for teasing you like that, you did have to appreciate the view as he left.

The wedding itself went well. Anna glowed. Her groom beamed. Several of the two-hundred people packed into the hall wept.  Then the ceremony was over, and the reception began. There was dinner, and dancing, and you saw family and old family friends, and you know it was a fun evening, but you didn’t remember most of it. There was a haze of fatigue that colored it. But Anna beamed, and you knew her magical day was going well, which was the important part.

And then came the bouquet toss.

All the unmarried women crowded the dance floor. You were out there with them, and though you had no desire to catch the flowers, there you were. Anna, damn her, looked over her shoulder, pointed at you, and winked. You glared, but there had to be a sister-seeking-missile in the flowers, because they landed right in your unwilling arms.

For his part, Karthurg just grinned at you. The bastard.

“So,” Anna said, as you sat with her near the end of the reception. “Is it finally real?”

“What?” Your stomach sank.

“Oh come on,” She raised an eyebrow. “You can bullshit mom and dad, but I follow your Insta & Snapchat. You didn’t post any pictures of the two of you until like… three weeks ago.”

“Damn it, Anna.” You buried your face in your hands. “I’ve been freaking out, trying to figure out how to tell you, and you knew?”

“Yeah.” She laughed. “It was pretty fun watching you squirm. But like, I knew you’d figure it out. You always do.”

“It’s real.” You told her. You watched Karthurg chat with your parents, keeping both of them entertained while you talked to your sister. The two of you had planned this, and now you knew it was unnecessary. “Think we can just… never tell them?”

“Depends… what’s it worth to you?”

This story was a commission, if you’d like your own, check out my commissions page.  If you want to read other stuff I’ve written, check out my Writing Masterlist.

Love what I do? Tip me with a Ko-Fi. I also truly appreciate reblogs, likes, and comments. They keep me going. ♥

[codedredalert]

hey if its not a bother and your okay talking about it can i ask why youve left so many servers? just wondering! ^^

hey anon, you’re good. i’ll put it under a cut because i feel like most people aren’t here to see my personal things 

like I mentioned in the servers, I need to focus on some irl things. i’ve been dealing with quite a bit for a while now and long story short: i’m recovering my health, moved halfway across the world alone into what’s now a hostile environment for people of my race, am considering career change, am between jobs, am contributing to my family and supporting myself financially and so on… i don’t want to get into it because i am grateful for what i do have in my life, and i’m doing my best to stay positive. if anyone has good resources to share, please do, i’m listening!

completely removing distraction is normal for me when i want to focus. for me, it’s easier to have no salami at all rather than have the whole salami there but i’m only supposed to enjoy a little at a time. i know it might sound extreme, but this is what works for me. 

on the bright side, i’ll probably open commissions soon? i wish it were in better circumstances, but hey at least i’m still able to create, and that’s good ^_^

[ask-de-writer]

DARING DO and THE GRYPHON’S QUEST! : MLP Fan Fiction : Part 15 of 19

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DARING DO

and

THE GRYPHON’S QUEST!

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

and

Carmen Pondiego

Cover art by Aranel the Cyborg, now  Wind the Mama Cat

29584 words

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

Writing begun 03/29/16

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

This is a Fan Fiction based on My Little Pony.  Canterlot, Princess Luna and the name Daring Do are owned by Hasboro Inc.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge.  I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.  

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

Chapter 15. Journey to the Gryphon Empire

The screen of Eagles overhead made certain that there was no further aerial assault.  There were no other adventures beyond seeing the changeling’s continuous wonder and delight at the mundane seeming world that they passed through.  

That did not stop her from needing fires four times a day to draw warmth from.  Warmth that she then shared out to her precious eggs.  Her dedication to turning them and keeping them safe was past impressive.

At the Circle Lake Resort rail terminus Grata laid out her ID as the Left Wing of the Imperial Throne and her Letters of Cooperation from Princess Luna and Princess Celestia.

“Good Station Master, we require a safe place to keep our cart untouched except by members of our party until you can obtain a car that will meet our transport needs.”

The pony looked up at Grata.  From behind his ticketing window grating he asked, “What is so special about your car needs?”

Grata, crest set dead serious, replied, “We need a single baggage/passenger car with a galley suitable for both Gryphon and pony diets.  There must be a communicating door between the passenger and baggage parts.”

The Station Master pony scratched behind his orange ear as he thought. “There are precious few such cars as you require.  I can do a Magic Net check to see how soon I can get one here.  The check might take an hour or two.”

An arrogant Gryphon voice interrupted, “It is of no importance!  This Blasphemous Venture Ends HERE!  They did not go to the so called Sunlord Temple at all!

“I, Krayard, High Priest of the Twin Flames of Creation, shall personally destroy anything in that cart that I deem blasphemous!  That changeling must be slaughtered!  As for those eggs, I will make an omelet of …”

Three power diving Eagles interrupted his oration by slamming him to the station platform!  Their extended talons drew blood.  As he tried frantically to flutter back to his feet, two more diving Eagles smashed talon first into his wings, pinning his spread out pinions!  Another Eagle struck Krayard in his center back, between the wings!  

Added to the crunch of clawed claws smashing into him, there was the cracking of bone!  Krayard’s hindquarters suddenly spasmed wildly and went limp!

Shocked beyond measure, he cried out, “Make them stop!  Why are they attacking me?”

Rahak replied, crest set to show mild interest, “How can we?  They are not tame creatures doing some trick.  You threatened both their mother and their young that she is tending.”

“Mother!  How is that monster of blasphemy any sort of mother to anything?”

The Eagles had paused their attack, except that the one on Krayard’s neck struck suddenly!  He lifted his head, beak dripping the gore of the priest’s right eye.  Striking yet again, he blinded the Gryphon under his talons.

Grata filled in, “How stupid are you, Krayard? The first living being that a chick sees becomes mother to it.  This changeling was the sole survivor of her hive.  We do not know where the hive was, or how long she has been raising Eagles but these are all following their mother.

“Defending Nest and Young is NEVER murder and that is what they are doing!  I see no reason to interfere.” Grata turned her back on the carnage that followed as the Eagles began to strip the flesh from his carcass.

Speaking to the appalled Station Master, Grata said cheerfully, “My apologies for the mess.  I will pay extra for cleaning the platform.”

Tearing his eyes from the ghastly sight of the Gryphon’s now still carcass being stripped by a horde of Eagles who were feeding cooperatively, the Station Master swallowed hard and replied, “Thanks, ma'am.  Was not looking forward to getting that job done.  About that car, let me get started on finding it for you.”

He busied himself with a magic net mirror.  He applied Princess Luna’s note of cooperation, which caused the Royal Seal of the High Commissioner of Equestrian Roads to glow and stick, proving the document and the connected request to be genuine.

It only took him about twenty minutes.  Looking up, he reported, “Ma'am, I found a car that meets your needs.  It will take two days to get it here.  We cross checked with Princess Luna herself.  She has ordered it as a special train, with its own engine and fuel car.  Once it is here, it can be ready to load your party in only two hours.  Those are needed for proper maintenance.”

Grata nodded acceptance.  “That is fine.  Where can we safely park our cart and stay by it?”

“Stay by it?  I can easily book you into a resort hotel.”  He rubbed his chin in thought.  A glance over at the dead Krayard, where the changeling was happily chomping down gobbets of the carcass, surrounded by Eagles who were also feeding with none of the expected squabbling.  

They were all surrounded by the delicate green glow of changeling magic.

The Station Manager sort of swallowed hard.  “OK, I see why you won’t want a hotel room!”  Rubbing his chin, he suggested, “Try our Warehouse #2. We will lock the pegasus ports from the inside.  Same for the main doors.  Entry and exit will be through the office.  Will that do?”

“It sounds perfect.  Let us see it.  Doctor Do will be the final judge of that.”

The remaining two days stayed quiet.  They built small fires for the changeling on a regular basis, to help her keep her eggs warm.  Eagles perched along the roof crest and in the trees nearby.  

They brought gifts of fish from the lake and a good variety of greens for Daring Do.  These, they laid at the door to the warehouse office.

When the special short train arrived, they opened the main door to the warehouse and brought out the cart and the changeling.  Oddly, it was Gryphons among the tourists who cheered them the most.

A pony asked a cheering Gryphon, “How can you cheer that one?  I mean, it is a changeling and it ate one of your kind!”

The Gryphon paused, crest showing puzzlement.  “Why is that wrong?  He was attacking nest and young.  Besides that, he was violating the will and law of your Princesses and our Empress.  Such a being has no honor.  His death was to be unmarked and unburried, for scavengers to eat.  That it benefited nest and young was a good thing!

“Hurrah for the Left Wing of the Throne!”

The pony shook his head.  “Every time that I think that I have started to understand you Gryphons, something like this happens!”

They watched as the baggage car door was opened and the cart and changeling were loaded.  The door was sealed and Daring Do, Grata and Rahak boarded the passenger part of the car.  Eagles perched on top of it!

With the loud Chug! Chug! The hissing of steam, bells clanging, and the blast of a whistle, the journey to the Gryphon Empire began.

The changeling came out to be with them for a little bit.  She watched the passing scenery with fascination.  Daring Do pulled out her writing kit and offered it to her.

She also brought out the copy of the original document of the Legends, the one written just before 54 years after the last Nightmare War.

She explained what she wanted.  The changeling smiled and began to write.  She took time off to go tend her precious Eagle eggs, but returned to her task.

At a fuel stop, Daring Do was stretching her legs.  The Engineer approached her.  He was shaking his head.  “Ma'am, we will be in the Empire this evening!  I have never seen anything like this run!  Princess Luna cleared the entire mainline, all the way to the Imperial Aerie.  The Empress herself ordered the border opened to us without the need for a stop!  We will be at the Imperial Aerie by no later than ten tomorrow.  This is our last stop before the Imperial Aerie.”

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[thevirtualcanvas]

Red like Roses

Just a little story about my builder showing her affections for Portia's favourite Captain. I gave him roses every day for two weeks solid to get his affections up and thought – yes! That is a sweet story idea. Arlo getting flustered at getting flowers.

So, enjoy!

“Good Morning, Captain.”

Arlo was teased from his reverie, as a delightful smile and soft voice brought him back to reality.

“Ah, Grace, good morning. How are you?”

Pleasantries, but then again the new builder was very pleasant. She was an unexpected addition to his little town, but as time went on, not an unwelcome one. It was a bright and early spring morning, and they were the only souls in Peach Plaza. A soft pink light shone on everything, shone on her.

“Well, thank you. I'm just headed to the Mayor's house to visit Ginger. I have some things that might cheer her up,” Grace gestured to the little wicker basket in her arms; it was full of goodies, like sweet rolls, a thermos of what he presumed was soup, a pie and a bouquet of roses.

“Would you like some company?” He asked her before he even really thought about it. Embarrassed and shocked by his own outburst, Arlo stiffened, lips tightened as he awaited her answer.

“Sure! That would be lovely, just as long as I'm not taking up too much of your valuable time?”

Arlo thought quickly. “It's on my route – and I need to see Gale this morning anyway. Here let me carry this,” he held his arm out for the basket, she didn't really need the help, but he felt it was the right thing to do. It also might help him focus on something else other than his very pink cheeks that were no doubt blending into his hair.

Grace gave him the basket and started walking up the hill around the base of the Church to the Mayor's house. They walked in tandem, talking easily, the world quiet except their own conversation and a few twittering birds. Arlo found himself relaxed in a way few other Portian's made him, it's not that he didn't like the people here, it's just that few saw beyond his authority. He watched her with cool reverence as she spoke about all of the commission's she'd take on. How each one was its own challenge and the relief and joy she felt when they were completed and completed well.

“Don't get me wrong,” she said casting him a soft smile. “I enjoy my official work, but I get more of a buzz on working on the little projects. The ones that actually help people.”

“They all help,” Arlo found himself saying as he shimmied the basket back up his arm. “Each task you complete is all to enrich the lives of each citizen.”

“Yeah, but the little ones are personal. They help me get to know the people asking me for help. It's nice. You must know what that feels like? I've seen you going above and beyond countless. Walking QQ for Gust when the alliance keeps him busy with new plans. Feeding the chickens for Sophie, when Emily cleans the coop. Picking up extra patrols for Sam and Remy so they can have a lie-in on a Sunday. You don't do them just because it's in your job title, Captain,” she nudged his arm as she spoke. She was warm, he could feel the heat through the stiff layers of his uniform. “Helping builders carry their wicker baskets? It's not official but very much appreciated.”

Arlo relented, he wasn't sure if it was because of the words she spoke, or the fact her beaming face was making him feel like a prepubescent boy all over again. “I take your point. I want to make everyone's lives here safer, easier. I do what I can, but as Captain of the Civil Corps, nothing is really beyond my remit.”

The morning light bounced off her face, eyes glimmering as she took her victory, cheeks full and even at this early time had flecks of coal and dust on them. “Speaking of, I'm nearly finished with your new training dummy's. I should have them delivered by next week, so, I hope you can manage without for a little while longer?”

“Yes, of course, thanks. Not to play favourites but the last ones from Higgins only lasted six months. So I appreciate your discretion on the matter. I wouldn't want to upset him.” It's not that he particularly cared for Higgin's emotions – he just became insufferable when anyone questioned his work. It was not a rant Arlo wanted to endure for a second time.

Grace's smile turned a little mischievous. “He obviously didn't take into account our dear Captain's fierce strength,” was – was she flirting with him? “Not to worry, the springs on the dummy's recoil are composed of galvanised steel and the interior from titanium. They'll have give, but shouldn't break, nor hurt you.”

“I – yes, well, thank you. Again.”

The mayoral house came into view and there seemed to be life inside. Arlo was somewhat relieved, his heart was beating so hard in his chest he was certain she could hear it.

“And here we are. Thank you for accompanying me this morning, Captain,” she said as she opened her hands for the basket of goods. Her fingers brushed his; they were warm and calloused but he wanted to hold them anyway. Grace took the basket from him and held it in the crook of her arm. “It was nice to have an escort, you should do it more often.”

She laughed as she saw him fumble over an apt response, reaching for his hand to apologise for her jesting. He cleared his throat, pushing back the slurry of highly inappropriate thoughts that were swimming in his head.

Grace rapt her knuckles against the door and then turned back to Arlo, she reached into the little basket and grasped at one of the roses. She held it out and urged him to take it.

“Please, take it. It's a 'thank you' for walking me here this morning. Ginger won't notice one missing. Besides, the colour matches, you're supposed to have it.”

“I really shouldn't, Civil Corps shouldn't accept gifts...” he recited, more embarrassed by the contents of the gift than the subject of getting one. He didn't think anyone had ever given him flowers.

Grace tilted her head and chuckled. “It's a rose, Captain. Not a bribe. Go ahead, I promise not to tell.”

Tentatively he reached out and took the delicate present in his hands. It was so delicate, rich with colour and he could even feel the bite of the thorns under his gloves. Coming from her this was – perfect.

“I grew them myself,” she added. “You're holding my first horticultural endeavour. Alice helped me set it up but apart from that the hard graft was all me.”

He noticed how proud she seemed, beaming at the delicate little organic thing in his hands. It served no practical use, not like a bridge, or the dee dee transporters. Yet, she seemed more thrilled by the little rose than all of the mechanical marvel she'd produced in the short time here. He was truly astounded by her. Arlo held it delicately, worried it might fall apart in his hands, inwardly giddy and smitten by the small act of kindness from the builder.

“It is beautiful – you should be proud,” he flitted his eyes to her, to find her entirely focused on him. Watching his every movement. Bated and hooked on his response. He felt wobbly all of a sudden, she'd shuffled closer. Hands to her chest, smiling. She smelled like coal, like fresh bread and the soft roses she'd grown with her wonderfully clever hands. He wondered what it would be like to hold those hands, to hold the rest of her. To lean in and taste those lips and feel that body, strong and study and – he needed to go. He was getting ahead of himself. It was just a flower. Arlo straightened, he took a step back and focused. “I should get going. Give Ginger my best.”

Grace looked confused. “Don't you need to speak to Gale?”

She had him there. “I can catch him later, better go and put this in water,” smooth, Arlo.

Russo had come to the door at that point. They greeted the butler and Arlo used it as his means of escape. Turning on heel, he turned from her. Face blushing furiously.

“Captain?” She called for him.

He couldn't refuse her, he looked back hoping she wouldn't comment on his face. “Yes, Grace?”

“Add a little bit of sugar to the water, it'll help keep the rose for longer,” she told him with the genuine intention of helping him, but also as an opportunity to see that strong and blushing face once more before he left.

“Right, good tip. Thanks, have a good day,” he spat almost too quickly, feeling hot and bothered under her soft gaze.

“You too, Captain. Don't work too hard,” it was said with playful teasing and a coy smile as she entered the Mayor's home.

Arlo dashed away, hoping if he dived into his daily routine his head would clear. Her smile and honest excitement swarmed in his mind, on repeat. As if he could work with her taking over his head.

For a few days, it was quiet, Arlo barely saw Grace, she was working on steel frameworks for the new bridge crossing and was mostly holed up in her workshop or overseeing the bridge construction. And he himself; between protecting the border and dealing with the inane requests of the residents, scarcely had time to think, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He was running, as he always did first thing on the morning. Sam and Remy were ahead, trying to competitively catch up with Paulie, the furniture store owner. There was something about working up a sweat that made him feel good. At six foot three running wasn't always the easiest for him, but he enjoyed it. He enjoyed the way his feet smacked off the concrete, how his blood raced through his body and the wind rushed past him in resistance. It made him feel like he was truly working, that these little things would help him become a man worthy of the Flying Pigs. He did a couple of laps around the fountain, waving to Nora and Minister Lee as they set up for the day, and set off at pace down the high street. Sonia was sleepily setting up her stand, Django was chatting lightly to her. Issac trundled out of the archway, chessboard in hand and grunted at hello in his direction. Alice was as punctual as ever at her stand, she was chatting away, she caught his eye and noticeably nudged the person she was talking too. He'd recognise that set of overalls anywhere.

“Captain! Good morning! It's a beautiful day, isn't it?” Grace spun around, calling him over, and his long limbs struggled to stop. He ground to a halt at the edge of Alice's flower stall and used the bridge to support himself as his lungs screeched at the sudden stop.

“Morning Grace, Alice,” he greeted them, holding onto his chest as he forced himself to full height. Arlo was suddenly aware, suddenly embarrassed. He was sweating buckets, his hair was windswept and plastered to his head all at once. His long calves were poking out of a pair of old shorts and weathered trainers. He moved his arms behind his back, a bone of contention for him. Littered with thousands of freckles thanks to the weeks of beating Portian sunshine. She was holding arms full of flowers, a litany of roses, lilies, and others he didn't recognise.

“Hey Arlo,” Alice greeted warmly. “It's supposed to get super warm today. I wouldn't run for too much longer if I were you. Do you need some water?”

The sun was beating down on his head, it was early but he was still feeling it's adverse effects. “Yes, thanks, Alice, that would be great.”

The bespectacled woman smiled at him and reached round into a cooler beside a crate. “No worries, I know the heat can be tricky. We, redheads, have to stick together,” he knew she dyed her hair. It was more auburn at the minute, but when he arrived at Portia you could have mistaken them for twins. She wasn't embarrassed by the colour, she reminded him, just interested in what her flowers pigments could do. It was merely for science.

He chugged it back quickly, almost relishing in the cold, his throat was parched. Arlo wiped the back of his mouth with his hand and exhaled in relief, noticing immediately the builder watching his every motion, double guessing the way she licked her bottom lip with the pad of her tongue. Alice took the empty bottle from him and thanked her again, leaning past Grace to do so, catching the powerful smell of flowers and something else.

“How goes the bridge work?” He asked, eager to get into the desert himself and explore the ruins before the research center and church got their claws into each other about it.

Grace smiled, “It's going great. Though I feel a bit at odds being the only woman in the group. Albert can be quite the charmer, at least he thinks he is. So, it's a good thing I have Gale and Mint at my side to keep him in check. I'm just waiting on my steel to heat enough to work with and I'll get back into this afternoon. I just wanted to get away from the workshop a bit, so I thought I'd bring some flowers over to Alice to bundle and bouquet for me.”

He was perturbed at the thought of Albert being sweet on her, granted he was like that with everyone, but still... “If Albert is being a hassle, I could have a word with him? It's not very professional of him to act like that.”

Grace laughed as she handled the flowers over to Alice. Alice rolled her eyes at him as she turned to work. “Thanks, Captain, but I can handle him. He's harmless. I appreciate the gesture though.”

Of course, she could, and now he was embarrassed all over again. “Right – sorry – I didn't mean to insinuate you couldn't. And what of Higgins, is he behaving himself?”

She shrugged, Higgins had despised her since day one. It's not because he knew her, she was just competition and he couldn't get past that. “So – so. He just ignores me, which is probably for the best. I don't want to argue at work – but thank you for asking.”

“And done!” Alice announced, breaking the awkward silence between them. In her hands the florist held a couple of bouquets; one of lilies, one of roses, and one individual rose wrapped in hessian. He didn't really know flowers, but Arlo could appreciate Alice's talents, they were beautifully arranged with pockets of greenery to break up the colour. She handed them back to Grace, while putting the remainders in her own buckets to make arrangements of her own later on. “There you go Grace, I'm sure Gust and Ginger will be happy with these.”

Grace grimaced slightly. “Oh, I hope so. Ginger has been feeling down a little lately – I hope getting out to visit her mum will help.”

“Oh, so the flowers are for her grave?” Arlo asked, humbled by the kind notion of Grace helping Ginger out.

Grace pointed to each individual bouquet. “The irises are for the grave, the roses are for the house and this – ” She paused at the little individual one, twiddling with the little ribbon wrapped around the hessian. “Well, this one is for you, Captain. It's been a little while and I thought the other one has probably wilted by now. I just wanted to replace it – ”

Arlo looked at the little flower, beautifully wrapped, with petals more delicate and rich than the last one he received. He then looked at Grace, who held it out to him with less certainty than last time. No flirtatious behaviour, in company she'd become as meek and shy as he was. Alice stared at him from behind Grace and nodded at him.

Take the flower, Arlo. It seemed to say. So he did, even though his head was running a million miles a second, and his blood was pumping faster than his interrupted morning run. He didn't really know what to say, well anything appropriate of Captain of the Civil Corps. She was hiding behind the other flower, cheeks pinks, and eyes averted.

“Thank you,” he said. “The other one, despite my best efforts gave up. So – um, thank you for the replacement.”

Something smacked him on the back, he jilted forward and turned around to see Sam teasing him about taking a break. His small teammate's interruption couldn't have come at a better time. Holding the flower firmly in his hand Arlo excused himself.

“Sorry, gotta get moving – have a good day, Ladies,” he waved with the rose, and ran towards Sam and Remy, not looking back but hearing the soft whine of Grace, and the supportive words of Alice.

“You did great,” she said to the Builder. “He'll get it someday.”

Roses appeared everywhere he went.

On his desk at the end of the day. Strapped to Spacer's saddle. Tied to a tree on his route around the city limits. On the internal door of the abandoned ruins by the church. Attached to a finished commission report, or in a box with the finished commissioned items. Each one wrapped in hessian with his title etched onto a cream luggage label. He stored them in his room, away from prying eyes and gossip. Each one was precious and a testament to the way he felt about her. Though it had taken him nearly the whole summer to admit that. He thought she was just being nice, she did nice things for everyone. Food for Django, apples for QQ, fish suppers for Pinky, ruin artefacts for Petra and Merlin, helping Emily and Sophie wrangle the chickens. She even gave flowers to Ginger and Alice. She commissioned a new hat for Sam, and boots with arch support for Remy. She played with Carol and Mars' kids, fed Oaks and Papa bear on the outskirts. Arlo didn't think he was special, he thought the way he felt about her was how everyone felt about her. But then, he didn't think everyone fantasized about kissing her, or taking her on dates, making her smile, or coming home to her at the end of a hard day. They definitely didn't fantasize about taking her to bed, peeling off all of her layers and laying his hands over her until she moaned, no, sung his name, and laying with her until the first light poked through the curtains.

Nope, that last part was definitely just him.

The moment of realisation was his birthday. Sam and Remy had taken him for a meal at the Round Table, Django smiled as they entered the premise.

“Ah my favourite officers of the law, please come in – I've been expecting you. Come take your seat, your meal has already been pre-paid for. Happy birthday, Arlo.”

Arlo thanked the restaurant owner and looked to Remy and Sam. The smiled sweetly and shrugged their collective shoulders.

“I've no idea what's going on,” Sam answered. He didn't believe her.

“No clue, man,” Remy answered, cool as a cucumber. He didn't believe him either.

Arlo stepped across to their usual table, the restaurant surprisingly quiet, and there it was – at his seat, a singular, red rose. He sat down cautiously, took the flower from its small vase and looked at the little luggage tag. For the first time ever since receiving the flowers all those months ago, it read his name. Arlo. He gulped, it felt surprisingly intimate. He flipped it and read the other side. Happy birthday! I bribed Sam and Remy to bring you tonight – enjoy your meal on me! Grace x

“You alright, boss?” Sam asked, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder.

He looked at Sam, hand to mouth and chuckled. “Yeah, I'm fine. An idiot – but okay.”

Sam gave him a cheery smile and shook him with friendly gumption. “She's planned it for weeks you know. So, enjoy it.”

Remy looked at his Captain and clapped his hand against the other shoulder. “But maybe, don't forget to say thank you? Maybe tell her how you feel too, I hear roses are a great way to let someone know.”

“Right – yeah. Thanks, guys.”

They enjoyed the food with gusto. All specially prepared favourites, starters, mains, drinks, and deserts for Remy and Sam. The atmosphere was warm, and light-hearted but he couldn't help but feel like something was missing. She was missing. She should have been here enjoying it too. Some of the other Portian's came over and wished him a Happy Birthday, buying him a drink (non – alcoholic, he still had work in the morning), or giving him a present. He thanked his friends for dragging him out, the other Portian's for their well wishes, and Django for a beautifully prepared meal, but he had to go.

“Go get her!” Sam and Remy encouraged in a united chorus.

Arlo darted from the restaurant, darkness already settled on Portia, he made a beeline for Alice's house and knocked hard on her door. Jack answered, and sleepily called for his sister.

“Hey, Alice,” she answered in pajama's, a book under arm and ink on her fingers. His courage seemed to fail him as he spoke to her. “I have a favour to ask...”

The bookish florist shook her head. “It's not a favour, Arlo. Consider this my present to you. Wait there a moment,” she disappeared back into the warmth of her house. Arlo heard tumbles, what he thought was a swear, and minutes later Alice returned, a bouquet of roses in her arm. It was massive, at least three dozen red roses, all trimmed organised and presented in brown paper, red and white ribbons wrapped around the outside, and dusted with glitter. “There you go, that's what you wanted, isn't it?”

He took the flowers from his friend. “I didn't even ask – does everyone know except me?”

Alice shrugged deftly and leaned against the frame. “Pretty much, Captain,” she pushed her glasses up and reached for him. “She's head over heels for you, Arlo. Go and tell her you feel the same.”

His stomach fluttered, hearing those words from Alice didn't make it any easier to process, but at least so many people were on his side. Yet he was concerned, what about his dreams – what about the Flying Pigs? It's all he'd ever focused on but this gnawing feeling wouldn't leave him. No matter how much he trained, focused, or fought. There she was, the first and last thing he would think about each day.

“Alice,” he hung his head. “I – don't know. I've never done this before. What if she rejects me?”

“You fought monsters, protected our town for years, dealt with every petty squabble Portia's had, and now you're afraid? Oh Arlo. This will be the only certainty you'll ever have, so go,” Jack called from behind her. “Sorry, I have to go. It's getting late. Good luck, Arlo.”

She waved goodbye, and then was gone. Arlo stood at the door for a long moment before willing himself to move. Alice was right, clearly. Grace was expecting something from him, some kind of answer. He wasn't going to chicken out. He rubbed at his arms, the chill of the night Autumn night air piercing through his jacket. He pulled his scarf tighter around his neck as he walked quickly to Grace's workshop just outside of Peach plaza. The town was quiet, everyone was either merrymaking in the Round Table or retired to bed for the evening. He hoped she hadn't gone to bed, he might not have the courage to do this again. As he left the safety of the city gates, at the edge of the road he saw the lights to her workshop were still on.

Here I go.

He faked it, strode with purpose, opened the gate, reached her door, and – hesitated. Fist millimeters from the heavy oak door. Arlo grumbled to himself, rested his head against the wood and cursed himself. Coward. He should just go. Before he made a fool of himself. The wood creaked and light fell into the darkness, he jumped back. Pretending he didn't just knock on the door with his own thick skull.

“Captain?” It was her. Hair tumbling around her shoulders, in an old t-shirt and joggers that did nothing to hide soft curves and strong arms. She was beautiful. He wanted to hold her. To bury himself in patches of soft skin and hold those calloused hands against himself.

“Grace, good evening. I'm sorry for calling so late.”

“Shouldn't you be at the Round Table?” She queried, a look of concern on her face.

“I was.”

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, looking at the sea of red petals in his hands. “I suppose it did. Thank you, for a wonderful surprise. I am truly grateful.”

“But?” Grace asked, folding her arms against herself.

“But,” he continued. “It just wasn't the same without you there. You should have been there, Grace.”

She stammered. “I didn't think you'd want me there.”

“Why wouldn't I? I enjoyed my surprise. But I find myself thinking I would have enjoyed your company more,” he held out the bouquet of roses, finding a reserve of courage. “These are for you, a thank you for my meal and to thank you for all of the things you've done for me recently. I'm sorry I've been too stupid to figure it out.”

Her eyes sparkled, she held the flowers as her life depended on them at that very moment. “Arlo...” she whispered his name and he shivered. It sounded right coming from her lips.

He took a step closer, towering over her, dipping his head forward. “I should have accepted it much sooner, I'm sorry I made you wait, Grace,” he ran a hand through the messy mop of red hair, nervous, but steadfast in his confession. “I like you, Grace, a lot. In ways, I'm not poetic or capable enough to describe. You're unlike anyone I've ever met and, I'd like to spend time getting to know you better than anyone else. That is if you'll have me?”

“Arlo...” she whispered his name once more, clinging onto it like it was hers alone.

Time stood still, they looked at one another, truly, and without pause. He couldn't help but admire her, she embodied everything he strove for. Kindness, intelligence, unequivocal morality, and empathy. He wanted to be with her in every way he could, spending as much time in her glow that she could stand of him. Arlo loved her. He wasn't ready to say it, but he felt it, knew it, in the very core of his soul.

Her face shifted as something had just clicked. Time sped up and in a flash her arms were pulling around his neck, bringing his head closer. Her head tilted and lips found his, hot and flush. She moaned and whimpered against him as he tucked a hand around the base of her spine, being mindful of Alice's creation. She tasted of home, warmth, and sweet tea. He wanted to consume and be consumed by it forever. He shivered at the way her hands ran through his hair and along his jaw. How her breath felt along his mouth and against his face. Arlo loved how her study body demanded his touch, locking into place against him.

He pulled back, smirking, feeling elated beyond measure. “So is that a yes?”

Her cheeks were flushed, and lips swollen. Grace ran her hands through her mussed-up hair and laughed. “That's a resounding yes. Happy Birthday, Arlo,” she pulled him into another passionate kiss, yanking him across the threshold and bolting the door shut behind him.

A single rose sat in the trellis near the gatepost of the workshop. It was a late bloomer, it's deep, red petals were hidden behind walls of thick, green leaves. Grace had trouble coaxing it to unfurl during the Summer and had all but given up. The next morning it emerged, full, plush and with the richest red she'd ever seen. The singular flower stood out against the oranges and browns of the rest of her forecourt and she smiled.

“You too, little rose? I suppose the best things do take some time,” she ran her fingers along the velvet petals, content. She called back to the house. “Arlo, you're going to be late.”

The Captain emerged from her house, a soft smile on his face as he righted the blue neckerchief. “Right – right. I'm on my way. See you later, yeah?” He asked, not quite believing his luck.

She planted a kiss on his cheek, rubbing away at the crumbs by his lips from breakfast. “I'll be here.”

“A Captain's work is never done, I'll be back once I finish my paperwork. Then we could go somewhere, maybe?” He looked coy, she thought it was cute.

Paperwork, hmm? She looked at the rose, looked back at him and had a stroke of genius. “Of course, I'd like that.” She waved him off and took a moment to herself before heading to the commerce guild.

“Well little rose, it took some time, but we finally did it.” Grace left home with a spring in her step and love in her heart.