#love the idea of borrowes just casually being known

[junowritings]

hi there ! i love your writing! could i request floyd with reader who genuinely cant tell if someone is being platonic or romantic to them; maybe them finally realizing floyd's affections towards them aren't just platonic? ty!!

Oooh all I can say is my condolences to poor reader lmao. Had so much fun imagining how this would pan out this was a cute idea! I'm glad you enjoy my stuff - hope you enjoy~ 🧡

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♡ Oh, well this is going to be so much fun for Floyd.

♡ Floyd recognizes a crush when he sees one. You’re a good match - you keep him entertained, and have the uncanny knack to get him to actually do things he’d usually get too bored of and ditch at a moment’s notice (Azul’s been trying to figure out how you manage that with no success because you have no idea why he listens to you either). Not to mention all of those cute little quirks and things that you do which the eel just can’t get enough of. 

♡ And of course there’s your reactions too. The way your lips quirk when you smile, the sound of your laugh and the noises of surprise you make when he swoops in when you’re least expecting him. The way that you squirm when he pulls you into those notorious squeezes of his, thankfully nowhere near as bone crushingly tight as the ones that he’s subjected some poor unfortunate souls to. Floyd adores getting any kind of response out of you.

♡ It is glaringly obvious that he’s interested in you, at least to everyone else, and Floyd’s got no problem making it known either. The only issue is that you haven’t noticed yet. It would get on his nerves a little knowing that you have no idea that his affection isn’t just platonic, but that quickly fades once he realizes how fun this has the potential of being. Just how far can he push that obviousness until you finally realize he’s interested in ya?

♡ It’s light teasing at first. Well, as light as it can be coming from a Leech twin. Floyd’s already naturally pretty casual with acts of intimacy, always throwing an arm over your shoulder or leaning up against you whenever he’s in the nearby vicinity. So why should you assume anything’s up when that arm on your shoulder squeezes you close against his side, and lingers a little longer than normal? Or that he's just a little bit clingier than usual, resting his head atop yours or on your shoulder and looping an arm or two around your side whenever you’re near each other?

♡ But then come the little gifts. Little things that have caught his eye and he doesn’t think twice about dropping into your hands the second that he sees you. Gifts from Floyd can really be anything, from things he’s found and borrowed but ‘forgot’ to give back, to things he’s gotten from trips back home and practically shoved into your hands the second he’s back. You start to question the reason behind his gifts, and start to notice other signs too. 

♡ When you come to the Monstro lounge Floyd will take food from the kitchen and add them on as freebies whenever he feels like it. He doesn’t bother telling Azul or Jade, but they’re already well aware and aren’t entirely inclined to stop him since getting you to spend time at the lounge means Floyd’s a lot easier to manage. 

♡ Gets upset if you share it with your other friends though - it’s for you, and he’ll say as much when he pushes the treat closer towards you, making sure to keep it out of your friend’s reach. Ace complained once about all the freebies you’re getting, trying to prod you to find out what you did to get the Leech twin in such a good mood and if he could convince you to get him in the eel’s good books, all the while trying to steal a bite from the free dessert you’re picking at with your fork. That is until he catches Floyd looking at him from at the bar; he’s grinning but there’s not a hint of the fondness like when he looks at you. The message is clear - hands off, and you’ve never seen Ace give up on stealing your food so fast in your life as he almost shoves the dish into your blazer pushing it back to you.

♡ You’ve always struggled to discern platonic from romantic feelings, not wanting to immediately assume one and get it wrong only to make things awkward afterwards. So even once you suspect that something’s up, it’s hard to work up the courage to actually approach it. You doubt Floyd would make things awkward if you were wrong, but you doubt your pride could handle the relentless poking and prodding he’d subject your feelings to if you were wrong about him liking you. Staying quiet about it and just enjoying these little moments seems like the safest bet, right?

♡ You made the mistake of asking his brother once, but that was no help at all. If anything it left you feeling even more confused because do you really think that Jade will break the surprise so soon? Floyd isn’t the only one getting a kick out of watching you struggle to put the pieces together, and Jade is thoroughly entertained learning how oblivious you can be to what Floyd’s actually trying to do. Those little gifts of his aren’t just for show - they’re telltale signs of a merfolk’s interest to date you. Oh dear, it really is such a shame that he forgot to mention that little tidbit to you, isn’t it?

♡ There is a point where things get serious. The moment that Floyd decides that he’s fed up toying around and running circles around these feelings. Gets a little miffed realizing that you still haven’t figured out that these little gestures aren’t just something he’s doing for the hell of it - sure, they’re entertaining, but his patience wavers quickly at the best of times. Eventually, Floyd’s going to get tired of this game. Playing games with you is fun, and he loooooves teasing his lil Shrimpy and watching your face turn into all different funny expressions while you try to figure out what exactly his angle is. But there are better things to play, and this back and forth is coming to an end sooner rather than later.

♡ Doesn’t care where it is or who’s around to notice, as soon as he sees you after deciding he’s done messing about you barely have enough time to greet him and ask what he’s doing before you are quite literally swept off of your feet with the force of his hug. His arms are tight around you as he hugs you close, and it’s just tight enough that you have a sinking feeling that he’s going to squeeze you like you’ve seen him do to the people who break Azul’s contracts. You’re trying to wrack your brain to figure out what perceived slight you did to earn the backbreaking squeeze you’re sure he’s about to give you, maybe even mentally leaving Grim all of Ramshackle’s tuna in your imaginary will. Then he stops, chin hooking over your shoulder and that one dark strand of his hair tickling your face as he presses his cheek against yours with

♡ “Hey, Shrimpy~ ya know, you got to be real dense to miss that I really like you. Maybe I gotta prove it~?”

♡ The whole time he’s saying this, Floyd is dangerously close to giving you a nibble or two. Your only saving grace is that he’s much too interested in the reaction that you give him once you realize what he’s said. His mismatched eyes rake in every detail; the way your eyes widen almost comically, mouth dropping open like a fish trying to sputter your way through some kind of response to what was basically a confession. It’s so funny! This is the reaction he’d been waiting for, and he’s not gonna relent until you really understand that this is way more than simply liking you.

♡ Let’s just hope you don’t mind the squeezes, because that’s not letting up either. Why would he let his shrimpy go when it’s better to just keep em right by his side? Especially when he wants to hear what you’ve got to say now that you don’t have to stress your silly little head over if he likes you or not~

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Power

Pairing: Masema x reader (female)

Authors note: it is a very belated birthday present to @lady-targaryens-world Thank you so much for your request and I'm so sorry it took me so long to write it. I changed a bit the setting, but I still hope you will enjoy it. It appeared that writing Masema is not so easy for me, but I truly loved it. A big thank you to lovely @the-irish-girl for helping me with brainstorming, ideas and dialogues! It was so inspiring to work together with you! The idea of the other world and the stones is borrowed from the books.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, oral (f receiving), p in v sex

Word Count: 5,6 K

I have tagged people who enjoy my Sihtric fics - if you don't want to be tagged in Masema fics - please let me know

You shifted in your saddle trying to find a more comfortable position, but to no avail. Your whole body was aching and sore, your muscles feeling like they were filled with lead. The shadows were getting longer, as the sun slowly rolled behind the horizon. The evening was approaching and you longed for nothing more than to rest, to get off the horseback and curl under your blanket. With the last remnants of your strength you spurred your horse to a slight gallop, trying to align with Lord Ingtar, riding at the front of the group.  

“Aren’t we stopping for the night?” you tried to sound casual, not to betray your tiredness. 

"There, behind that hill, is a perfect spot for our camp,"  Lord Ingtar's response filled you with hope as he pointed towards the next hillock. Unconsciously, you sighed in relief. It wouldn't have surprised you if they intended to ride through the night; there was no sign of weariness on the stern faces of the Shienaran warriors following their leader. It seemed they could maintain this relentless pursuit indefinitely. 

With a knowing smirk, he added, "The horses need a rest."

Yeah, horses, you nodded inwardly and allowed your own steed to gradually slow down again.

You had to pick the lesser of two evils, as the need to escape the city had grown urgent. Fal Moran was no longer a safe haven for you, not since it had become overrun with Aes Sedai. It was only a matter of time before they discovered your well-kept secret, and you would be forced to follow them to the White Tower. You were not like them and you didn't want to be anything like them. Arrogant, cold-blooded, and heartless, they were driven by their might and a belief in their own omniscience. These cruel beings wielded too much power for their own good.

You had made up your mind to join the first party leaving the city, even if it meant travelling across the country in pursuit of the Horn of Valere. You were aware that they wouldn't readily accept you as a companion if you simply asked, but the Shienarans were known for their unwavering commitment to helping and protecting those in need. That was their way. Thus, you departed ahead of the group and waited along the road—an abandoned high-born lady, seeking assistance. A damsel in distress, to put it plainly.

Once again, you felt the unsettling sensation of someone's eyes fixated on you. Slowly and discreetly, you turned your head to meet his gaze. His stern eyes bore into you with mistrust and suspicion, tinged with a hint of resentment for reasons unknown to you.

"Have I done something wrong?" you asked, turning to face Lord Ingtar as you settled beside him near the fire.

"What do you mean, lady?" The surprise in his voice was evident.

"I have a feeling I may have upset or offended the young warrior with those peculiar mismatched eyes. I believe his name is Masema," you continued hesitantly. "I just wanted to know if I may have overstepped or said something unacceptable. I'm not accustomed to your ways, and I want to offer my apologies if..."

"Lady, you need not worry," Lord Ingtar interrupted gently. "I'm sorry to say this, but there's probably nothing you can do about it. You... I'm not quite sure how to explain it... you bear a striking resemblance to an Aiel to us. Not all of us have fought against them, but Masema has."

The awkwardness of the conversation and the embarrassment in Lord Ingtar’s voice were impossible to ignore. "Lady, you are not to blame for your appearance. Please, tell me if Masema has been rude to you or insulted you in any way. Trust me, I'll ensure a proper punishment is meted out."

"Oh, not that. He's simply avoiding me completely, and he refuses to speak to me even when I address him. Please, don't say anything to him. You've been so kind to pick me up on the road and offer your protection after my bodyguard abandoned me unfairly. I don't want to cause any inconvenience," you said, trying to mask your relief with gratitude. You were thankful that your initial fear, the creeping worry that Masema might have somehow discovered your deeply buried secret, was unfounded.

Unable to resist, you stole a furtive glance at Masema. He'd set up his blanket near one of the towering stones encircling the camp. It was an eerie sight; the magnificent stones, arranged as if by a giant hand, stood in a perfect circle. You had never seen anything like it before. Was it some kind of sacred place? Perhaps remnants of a forgotten temple? The strange ornaments engraved in the middle, just within reach, sparked a sense of familiarity you couldn't grasp. The whole setting gave you a weird feeling you couldn't quite place.

The warmth of the hot brew shared around the fireplace enveloped you, soothing your aching joints and beckoning for rest. You spread your blanket on the opposite side of the camp, as far as possible from the grim warrior that apparently hated you for just being you.

It wasn't surprising; you were accustomed to it. People had feared and hated you for as long as you could remember. You recalled being just a small girl when it first happened, playing with the other kids of the village at the foot of the nearby hill.

It was the noise that first caught your attention—a scratchy, unpleasant sound of something rubbing against itself. Then, you saw it—a large stone slowly starting to shake and then loosening from its perch at the top. You remember screaming, shouting for everyone to run, but one of the boys stumbled and fell. Time seemed to stand still for a moment; you acted on instinct, reaching out with your hand in a stupid and desperate wish to stop the stone from crashing onto your friend. And miraculously, it stopped. It remained suspended in mid-air, just above the fallen boy, as if held by a magic hand.

He scrambled to his feet and ran, and they all followed suit, casting fearful glances back at you as you lowered your hand and the stone crashed to the ground with a deafening thud. Even now, when recalling that day, you could still feel the absolute terror in their eyes. Not because they had just escaped death, no, they were terrified of you. 

That night, the elders of the village came to your parents, and by the same nightfall, they hurriedly packed all their belongings, and you left. You left your home, your village, your friends—everything. And ever since then, you've been running. There was something within you, a power you didn’t understand and never wanted to possess. It was only much later, as you became a grown woman, that you found out there were others like you - the Aes Sedai. But the way people spoke about them, the tales they told, and the fear they instilled just reinforced your conviction that your power had to remain secret, hidden until you took it with you to the grave.

You sank down onto your blanket, wrapping another around you, leaning your back against the stone behind you. Your eyes unconsciously wandered again to the stern warrior on the other side of the camp.

Why? By the light, why me? were your last conscious thoughts before sleep took over.

You were in that sweet spot between asleep and awake, still wrapped in the cosy embrace of dreams when the sounds of the outside world started creeping in, signalling the start of a new day. You kept your eyes shut, not quite ready to let go of that blissful moment just yet.

“Where are we?” came a voice, dripping with anger. It sounded oddly familiar, but you couldn't quite place it.

Masema. The name jolted through your mind, instantly dispelling the dreamy fog. You snapped awake, finding Masema towering over you. You scrambled to a sitting position, taking in your surroundings with a mix of awe and confusion.

“I-I don't know,” you stammered, just as confused as he was, if not more so.

Moments ago, you had been lying on the ground with all your companions, and now you were... wherever this place was. It was unlike anything you had ever seen before.

You were still seated among the magnificent stones, where the camp had been, but that was where the similarities ended. The place bore no resemblance to where you had fallen asleep. You vividly recalled the stones positioned in a clearing near the woods, surrounded by untouched, lush grass and the scent of nameless wildflowers lingering in the air. Now, as far as your eyes could see, there was nothing but barren, cracked soil, with withered trees sporadically dotting the landscape. The hot air and dust burned your lungs as you struggled to take a deep breath.

“This is all your fault!” Masema's words snapped you back to reality, his eyes dark with anger. “You brought us here, now bring us back!” he demanded.

“And, why would it be my fault? You’re here, too! You might be the one responsible for this, you know?” you spat at him, your words filled with venom to match his.

It was only then that the absurdity of the situation began to sink in, and panic slowly crept over you. What had happened? Where were you? And of all the people you could have ended up with, why did it have to be Masema, the Shienaran warrior who clearly despised you, stranded with you in this desolate wasteland?

"I knew from the very first sight of you that you couldn't be trusted," Masema's voice, cold and calm, sent shivers down your spine, more chilling than any insult he could hurl in anger.

“What did I do, for you to hate me so much?” you knew it was not the right time nor place for this question, there were much more pressing issues to be cleared, but you couldn’t just leave it. 

“You look just like them! You speak like them! You walk like them! Everything you do makes you look a little more like them! And sooner or later you’ll show who you really are, you cannot fool me,” he snorted.

"Like who? The Aiel? You flatter me. I would give much to be like them, to possess their strength, their ability to defend themselves against prejudice-driven fools who judge solely based on appearance," anger simmered within you.

“You don’t know me!” you finally shouted. “You did not even give me a chance to prove my worth, you just judge me straight away because you think you are better than anyone else, you think you know better than anyone else. But you know nothing about me.” The last words were punctuated by a pointed index finger jabbing into his chest, your eyebrows furrowed with anger.

Finally, you took one more step forward until you were face to face, sharing the same air. You stared him straight in the eyes, letting him see the pain his words inflicted.

“I don't deserve your hatred! You don’t know me, so stop pretending like you do!”

Without waiting for a response, you swiftly began to pack your blankets into your saddlebag.

"You know what? I'm done with all of this! We're parting ways! You go one direction, and I'll go the other! Good luck!" you hissed in frustration. The overwhelming need to escape from this place, to evade the stern, judgmental gaze of those peculiar eyes, left no room for any other thought. You didn’t give him a chance to reply; you didn’t even want one. With that, you turned your back on him, slung your saddlebag over your shoulder, and strode away, devoid of any plan or destination.

You had no idea how long you had aimlessly wandered before spotting a small stream, a mirage of life amidst the ash-grey desolation. Hastily, you uncapped your leather flask, filling it with the precious, life-giving water.

Leaving Masema behind had undoubtedly been a mistake, but there was no turning back now. You couldn't simply reappear before him and offer apologies. You couldn’t admit he was actually right.

It must have been you. There was no other explanation, no other possibility. Even though you had no inkling of what triggered this or how you managed it. Lost in your thoughts, you watched the stream bubble, abruptly pulled from your reverie by an angry roar nearby.

Your head snapped up, pupils dilating in terror at the sight of the creature looming closer. Not even your worst nightmares could conjure something like this. Towering on massive, muscular hind legs, its leonine body was covered in mottled, algae-green scales, with a broad, frog-like head boasting bulging, lidless eyes gleaming with eerie intelligence and a ring of sharp, serrated teeth.

Your hand instinctively sought the small knife hidden in your clothes, fingers clenching around its shaft until your knuckles whitened. Being intended as this creature's next meal wasn't the destiny you envisioned, but you were resolved to make your life as costly as possible.

In a heartbeat, a strong arm gripped yours, yanking you aside with incredible force as the creature lunged. Your bewildered gaze fell on Masema, wielding his sword with determined precision. It was an uneven fight, the creature dwarfing the agile warrior and its scales seemingly impenetrable to his blade.

"The eyes, they're unprotected! Aim for its eyes!" you shouted and the beast's attention momentarily  turned towards you. In that very same moment Masema seized the chance, leaping and aiming for the creature's head. The blade sliced through its left eye, eliciting a deafening howl that pierced the air.

Your chest heaved with horror as you witnessed the creature falter, collapsing onto its front paws before slumping to the ground. Unstoppable sobs wracked your body as you sank to your knees, horror consuming you, and strong arms encircled your shoulders, preventing you from collapsing to the ground.

"I'm sorry," you muttered, arms wrapped around your legs as you sat on your blanket spread by the fire Masema had made in the middle of the stone circle. "You're probably right. It's my fault we're stuck here, don't know where."

A furrowed eyebrow was the only indication that Masema was paying attention, engrossed in sharpening his sword, seemingly oblivious to your presence.

"It's not the first time strange things have happened to me," you continued, feeling like there was nothing left to lose. You knew he hated you—could he hate you even more? Did it even matter? The landscape stretched before you, empty and dusty. Having the glorious choice between death from hunger or the claws of that creature—definitely not the last of its kind—you preferred the more swift one, or better yet, the quick, soothing death by Masema’s sword seemed actually the most appealing choice. 

"There's something inside me, and it frightens me," you confessed. "It's like I have access to a pool of unlimited power, but every time I try to grasp it, it slips away. And then, sometimes, when I least expect it, I can feel it in my fingertips. It's so tangible, I could almost touch it."

"What kind of strange things?" Masema inquired nonchalantly, as if asking about your breakfast.

"I've made rocks freeze in the air, ignited things, moved objects without touching them," you said, trying to keep your voice casual, but unable to hide the tremor of anxiety. You had never spoken to anyone about it, and now you were revealing your deepest secret to someone who was almost an enemy. Yes, he had saved your life, but it hadn't seemed to change his attitude toward you.

"I never wanted it, never asked for it! It's a curse," you admitted, resting your head on your knees. Your body shivered, not from the cold, but from the anger and despair boiling within you. "And now I've cursed you too."

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't even notice Masema approaching until his hand landed on your shoulder, startling you as he sat down beside you.

"I knew you were trouble from the first moment I saw you," there was a new, unexpected tone in his voice that made you raise your head. Something in Masema's eyes caused a chill to run down your back and the flickering red light from the fire only intensified the hypnotic effect of his stern gaze.

"I didn’t mean any harm to anybody. I’m so sorry. You have every right to hate me," tears welled up in your eyes.

"Hush," Masema's rough fingers gently cupped your chin, his thumb brushing away the tears gathered in the corners of your eyes. "There is such a fire within you. I can feel it. I could see it in your eyes as you faced that creature. A spirit so daring, so brave, captured in such a small and fragile frame."

A soft gasp of surprise escaped your chest as Masema's lips pressed against yours, his palms cradling your face and drawing you close. Your mind raced, torn between eagerness and bewilderment. You placed your palm on his chest, as if to push him away, but instead, your fingers hooked into Masema's leather armour, pulling him closer.

Wasn’t this what you had yearned for all this time, tormented by his inexplicable rejection? Hadn't you dreamed of feeling these strong arms wrap around you, pulling you close? Or was it the desperation of this hopeless situation that made you cling to his broad chest, seeking the warmth of his body as confirmation that you were still alive? You didn’t care. Thrill and arousal running through your veins, you could only moan against his lips, slowly parting yours to welcome him into your mouth.

"I've been craving this since the moment I laid eyes on you. Whatever power brought us here, away from everybody, I'm grateful for it," Masema's husky voice enveloped you, sending shivers down your spine. His hand found its way to the back of your neck, holding you in place as his mouth trailed down to your neck, leaving hot, stinging marks on your sensitive skin.

You whimpered at the stirring sensation, your longing for his touch growing into a burning need, overpowering all your other senses. In the next moment, you found yourself pressed onto your back, the thick, soft blanket barely enough to shield you from the hard ground, Masema looming over you.

"You resemble the fiercest enemy I've ever faced, yet you make my blood boil with desire," your breath caught in your throat as Masema's rough fingers wrapped around your wrists, pinning your hands above your head. There was something threatening, something inexplicably alluring in the sinister darkness of his lust-drunk eyes as they locked with yours. You met his gaze head-on, your eyes wide open, chest heaving, and teeth grazing along your lower lip in anticipation of his next move.

Masema leaned in, his lips hovering over yours, “Say it, say that you want me,” his eyes scanned you intently. 

“By the light, I want you,” you breathed, rolling your hips against him like a slut and the throaty groan that left his lips upon your words, made you shiver. His mouth found yours and your breath was swept away from the sheer fury of his kiss while his hands let go of your wrists and began to work on your clothes, freeing your breasts from the confines of your corset, squeezing and kneading them, his rough fingers digging deep into your flesh. 

Your eyes were rolling back into your head from his heated touch and you arched your back against the unforgiving hard ground as Masema’s lips closed around your hardened nipples.  The small rocks beneath the blanket were digging into your shoulders and hips, but you didn’t even feel the sting, everything around you slowly fading until there was nothing apart from deep hunger for more, burning you from within.

“You think you have power? You are under my power, sweet little thing, you could be the Dragon himself, but you could do nothing against my power and I will use it to make you forget everything as you scream my name in pleasure,” the raw force, permeating Masema’s words, although whispered in hushed tones, made all the tiny hair on your skin stand on end. His hands were on your hips, pushing up your dress and pulling down your undergarments with hasty, rough movements. You drew a sharp breath, feeling the cool air on your bare dripping cunt just before Masemas hot tongue dived in between your folds, his lips closing around your pulsing clit, hands pinning your hips to the ground. 

“Light help me,” you wined, burying your fingers into the soft and plush fabric beneath you in a desperate attempt to ground yourself, but to no avail as Masema’s lips and tongue kept driving you closer to madness, lewd moans rolling over your lips.

“It can’t help you. Nothing can help you now, you’re mine and only mine,” Masema grinned against your centre, voice husky and deep, dripping with dark possessiveness that only added to the sinful sensation pulsing through your veins and bringing you closer to the edge, and you gasped loudly as he forced two fingers into you. You felt as if you were flying or maybe falling, you couldn’t tell, too lost in the feeling of your climax approaching, each lap of his tongue, each movement of his fingers amplifying the pleasure and pushing you further into oblivion.

“Say it, to whom do you belong?” Masema groaned, speeding up his movements. 

Was this what had attracted you to the stern and silent warrior from the very first day? His whole presence spoke of strength and assertiveness, of power and ownership, of being someone to take what’s his and never letting go of it, defending it with his life if needed. Tired of loneliness you craved for the soothing feeling of belonging to someone. It was intoxicating, almost addicting – that feeling of having found someone ready to claim you, to possess you, to protect you. You wanted to be his, you were his. 

“Yours, Masema, I’m yours. By the light I’m yours,” you moaned, and Masema’s satisfied growl vibrated against your centre, adding the last touch that brought you over the edge. You came on his fingers, whimpering his name, forgetting where you were or who you were as your body convulsed under the waves of pure bliss running through your veins. 

“Such a good girl, my powerful, secret Aes Sedai, my dragon,” Masema grinned, observing you carefully, as he kept fucking you with his fingers through your orgasm, “so beautiful, so tight around my fingers. I can already imagine how good you will feel around my cock.” 

Head spinning from the intensity of your orgasm, you breathed heavily, chest rising high with each inhale.  Eyes half lid you watched Masema pulling off his leathers and undoing his breeches. You had always noted Masema's well-built physique, his muscular arms hinted at beneath his armour. However, the sight of his perfectly sculpted upper body, revealed before your eyes, made you swallow hard. Even more so as your eyes landed on his thick, fully hard cock ready to claim you. You yelped as Masema grabbed you by your hips and flipped over on your stomach in one quick motion.

“I’m not done with you yet, my sweet little dragon,” he whispered into your ear, pushing your dress up your ass and pulling you to your knees. You whimpered as his large, rough palms landed on your buttock, spreading your cheeks.

“Perfect, so perfect,” Masema grunted, teasing your entrance with his finger. You moaned and pushed back into his touch. “Patience, beautiful,” he chuckled, “trust me, I know exactly what you need, and I’ll give it to you.” 

A muffled cry escaped your lips as Masema’s hand reached out, grabbing your hair, and pulled you up back flush against his chest. His left hand fingers wrapped around your throat, squeezing it slightly, just enough to pull a soft whine from you.

“I’ll give it to you, if you’ll ask me nicely,” Masema’s breath hot against your neck made shivers go down your spine or were it his words and hoarse, lust drunken voice? You couldn’t tell, you didn’t care, you were unable to think straight your mind swept clear from any other thought apart from the need to have him finally inside you, to feel him use you, to fuck you into madness.

“Please,” you gasped, your breath getting more ragged with each passing moment.

“Please, what?” Masema whispered, his left hand still around your throat, the other squeezing your breast, fingers rubbing your hardened nipple.

“Please, fuck me. Take me,” a deep moan rolled over your lips as Masema pressed you down and pushed his hard length into your tightness with a loud groan. He paused for a moment, savouring the feeling of your walls squeezing around him and taking him in.

“So sweet, so bold and dearing and yet so obedient, and so fucking tight, you are a gift of the Creator himself,” Masema hummed, as he pulled out and slammed back into you, making you moan and gasp as his pace was picking up. He was not gentle, not in the way his fingers dug into your flesh, to keep you in place, not in the way his hips snapped against you, as he forced himself deeper and deeper into you with each thrust, not in the way his hand found its way to you hair again, jerking you up against his chest, making you cry out both in pain and pleasure simultaneously. 

Your eyes were rolling back into your head, breath catching in your chest, as Masema fucked you relentlessly, mercilessly, his groans filling your ears, and your body responded to his every touch, every rough thrust. Nobody had ever desired you so carnally, so intensively, his hold on you so primal and possessive, determined to bring you to the highs of pleasure you had never experienced before, driving you mad and pushing you higher and higher.

“More, by the light, Masema, I need more,” you mewled and the wild growl that ripped through Masema left you grinning as he pushed you back down to the blanket, seized your hips in an iron grip, you were sure to leave bruises and marks in your soft flesh, and fastened his pace.

You tried to muffle your moans with your hand, but Masema was quick to grab it and pull your arm behind your back.

“Don’t be shy, my sweet dragon, there is nobody who could hear you in this cursed world you’ve brought us to,” he chuckled, “I want to hear you, I want to hear how much you enjoy my cock.”

You didn’t answer, unable to make any coherent word, your voice trapped in the depths of your throat, but the wanton sounds rolling over your lips were the only response he needed as he kept pounding into you, fucking you breathless. 

You could feel Masema’s movements getting sloppier, his heavy breathing turning into hoarse, rugged panting, and you clawed your fingernails forcefully in the blanket, closing your eyes as Masema let go of your arm and reached between your thighs, his fingers rubbing your pulsing clit, giving you the last push you needed to fall again into oblivion. The climax shot through your body with the force of a lightning, your limbs trembling as you screamed Masemas name into the black void around you. You would have collapsed from the intensity of your orgasm washing over you, if not for Masema’s hands holding your hips tightly as he kept fucking you through your peak, loud groans leaving his lips as he came just moments later, his cock twitching inside you and filling you with his warm seed. 

You slumped down onto the blanket the moment Masema’s hands let go of you and he followed you crushing down beside you, both panting hard. You didn’t expect that, but Masema’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush to his chest as his lips planted tender kisses on the top of your head.

"You didn't believe me," you whispered between panting breaths. 

"Oh, I believe you. More importantly, I believe in you. You brought us here, and you'll bring us back. I have no doubts about it, my little dragon," he whispered, nuzzling against your hair.

“Wake up,” Masema rattled your shoulder, tearing you away from the sweet world of dreams.

“Just one last moment,” you muttered without opening your eyes, your arms reaching out, seeking the warmth of his body.

“There's no time. Wake up! They're approaching,” the urgency in Masema's voice jolted you from your slumber.

“Who's approaching?” you asked, your eyes fluttering wide open.

“I would rather ask what is approaching,” Masema chuckled. “Can't you hear it?”

The wild roar that tore through the air made you jump to your feet.

“What was that?” you asked, fear etched on your face.

“I think it might be some friends of our yesterday's acquaintance,” Masema chuckled, “And they are coming in company. Sweetie, it's time to go home,” his gaze slid expectantly over you.

“What? But I can’t. Masema, I have no idea how,” you sobbed.

“Listen to me. I've been thinking about what you told me. Do you know what the locals call these stones?”

“No,” you shivered, listening to the sounds of wild roars and feeling the earth trembling beneath your feet.

“Obanda stones. Obanda means 'door' in the old tongue. This must be how you got us here—through the stones. And this is how you can bring us back.”

“Masema, it's insane. I have no idea how to do that,” desperation laced your voice.

Masema's fingers brushed against your cheeks, and he cupped your chin to raise your head.

“I'm here to protect you. Whatever comes. I don't care who you are. I don't care what power you wield. I will protect you, always,” the certainty in his voice, devoid of doubt or hesitation,  sent a shiver down your spine.

"Look at me," he commanded, and as if drawn by an irresistible force, you raised your gaze to meet his eyes.

"Give me your hand," he continued, and you complied, raising your arm. You flinched as Masema's large, rough palm wrapped around your fingers, squeezing them painfully. "I'm here with you. Hold on to me. I believe in you. You brought us here, you’ll bring us back. You can do it," he reassured, his other arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you tightly against his muscular body.

"Now, I want you to put your hand on the stone," he breathed against your ear. The calmness and certainty in his voice were hypnotising, leaving no room for doubt. The howling and growling around you grew closer as the beasts encircled you. Your heart raced in your chest, as panic and fear enveloped you. 

"I can’t do it! Masema, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I never learned to use it properly. I don’t know how to do it," words tumbled from your lips in an unstoppable rush, your body shaking uncontrollably. You had brought this doom upon both of you. Your ignorance, your unwillingness to embrace the power bestowed upon you had led you here, and it would be the death of you both. "I can’t do it. I’m so sorry, Masema," tears rolled down your cheeks.

There was no point in trying, all you wanted was to turn around, to gaze into his mismatched eyes, to melt into his embrace, bury your nose into his chest, and breathe in his scent for the one last time. But Masema’s firm grip on your waist prevented you from doing so.

“I can’t,” you sobbed, leaning heavily against him as your knees grew weak and wobbly, “I just can’t do it.”

“Raise your hand,” Masema ordered, squeezing your fingers again. The pain jolted through your body, sharpening your hazy mind. There was something in his voice that brooked no disobedience. Despite your reluctance, despite having already given up and resigned yourself to the approaching death, you obeyed. You raised your quivering hand, reaching out almost to touch the cold surface. A piercing howl echoed just behind you, and you froze, your palm mere millimetres from the stone.

"Don’t look back. Close your eyes and listen to me," Masema's voice remained steady, unwavering. It washed over your senses like a waterfall—soft, low, and slightly husky, yet remarkably calm and soothing. Even his breath maintained a steady rhythm, as if he were engaged in a casual conversation over breakfast rather than standing with you in the midst of nowhere, surrounded by hungry, bloodthirsty creatures, his only hope of escape hanging by the fragile thread of a scared girl, unsure of how to wield the power she possessed.

Masema's presence enveloped you like a soft cloud, calming the tempest of your swirling thoughts. His steady heartbeat seemed to set a new, measured rhythm for your own racing heart. The world around you faded away, leaving only his firm, commanding yet gentle voice echoing in your mind.

"Touch the stone," Masema whispered into your ear, pressing you tightly against his chest. "Don’t think. Feel. I trust you."

You couldn’t recall giving your hand the command to move forward, but it did so the very moment Masema’s words left his lips. The stone felt unforgivingly cold, its polished surface so smooth that you could feel each and every cut and line of the ancient runes engraved in it. Closing your eyes, you pressed your palm more firmly against it, with Masema’s hot breath on your neck serving as the only reminder of the world around you, the sole connection grounding you as you reached out for the source of light within you and it answered your call, pulsing and growing within you.

You trembled, the power scorching through you, burning from within, seeping into every cell of your body, every corner of your mind, its radiance swallowing you. So many times had you tried to reach for that power, you knew dwelling inside you. You could sense it, an unending pool of light and warmth, retreating each time you consciously called upon it. And now it was suddenly there, flickering around your fingertips, permeating in your breath, wafting around you with the strength of a tempest, flowing in a ceaseless current, begging to be tamed and channelled. 

Now it was you, squeezing Masemas hand with all the strength you had, seeking refuge in his unwavering confidence, in his steady breath on your neck, in his rhythmic heartbeat, as with a loud cry you channelled your power into the stone.

Suddenly, it was quiet around you. No howling, no growls, no sounds of approaching paws causing the earth to tremble beneath your feet. Slowly, you opened your eyes. You were still standing in the same place, your palm pressed against the stone, Masema’s muscular arm around your waist, his other hand squeezing your left hand. You breathed in the fresh air, smelling of grass and rain. Rain! The realisation hit you like lightning.

“I did it!” a cry of triumph vibrated through your body. “Masema, I did it! We're back.”

In the next moment, you were turned around as light as a feather and pressed against the stone, with Masema towering over you.

“My little dragon, my powerful girl,” was all he said as his lips crushed against yours.

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[slutforsnow]

His Sunflower

Chapter 5 🕺

We boutta fly through these next few chapters to get to my lore idea so I never forget it 🫡

As the week of midterms went antagonizingly slow, Festus and Sunni were arguing, which pleased Coryo and Sej, but they didn't show it when Sunni told them about their most recent fight in the art room.

"What? Fes, why would I abandon Sej and Cori?" Sunni asked as her boyfriend watched her sketch out her next painting. She was sitting by the window, getting a headstart on the painting for class. Her teacher had wanted the class to paint the people, things, or places that made each person happy. Sunni, being the overachiever that she is, had to work twice as hard because of what she had planned.

"Because, my darling, they don't understand the love we have for each other. They hate us for it. Did you forget how Sejanus reacted when you told him the news?" Festus drawled, not really wanting to be here. The art room smelled awful to him; all the oils and paints? Not for him, but he dealt with it that way she didn't think he didn't love her. Well, he didn't, but Sunni couldn't find that out. Not yet.

"They don't hate us, it just came as a shock cause we've only known each other for about 3 months," She replied, setting her pencil down to look up a photo she had taken of her center piece.

"And how do you know what? Did Sejanus tell you that?" Festus snapped, a frown appearing on his face.

"Yeah, actually," Sunni sassed back, glaring at her boyfriend. "Say Sejanus' name like that again and see what happens."

The pissed off look was surprising to Festus; all he had seen Sunni do was smile, laugh, beam, and grin. He had to tread lightly when talking about her cousin because if he wasn't careful, she'd pick up on his true nature.

"Right, sorry, love," He said gentler, earning a bright smile of approval on her face before turning back to her work.

"I don't forgive you just yet, Fes, you'll have to earn your forgiveness."

Coryo had grabbed his shovel, as the three of them were in his family's apartment when she told them, but she told him no and bapped him on his head like he was cat.

It was like a factory reset for him; he hadn't been touched like that since he was a kid, so it had worked, and he sat back down, putting his shovel back in his closet, mumbling a quiet fine.

"Has he been working on improving?" Sejanus questioned from the floor, running a hand through his hair.

"Yeah!! He's not a total ass like you guys say," She replied, beaming. "Yeah, he has his moments, but he's super sweet!"

'I could be better for you, Sunni. Better than that lowlife player and cheater,' Coryo thought, pulling his white hood up to rest on his head before glancing at his notebook that was squeezed into his mattress. How Sunni hadn't seen it yet, he had no idea, but was he grateful she hadn't? Yes. Yes, he was.

"Sun, it could be a front; he could still be a bad guy," Sejanus warned.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, but he's changed! I know it!"

Then the party came. The boys plan to have a sideshow exposing Festus to the entire senior class during the party was ready, with photos (comprising of from texts to photos of Festus on dates with different girls) from sophomore year as proof, was ready and on a USB drive.

They were dressed in casual-ish clothing. Sejanus was wearing black jeans and a baggy band t-shirt. He didn't feel like dressing all nice like people usually expected him to do so—he also wanted to blend in as most of their class loved wearing band shirts on no-uniform days and since this was Clemensia's party, there would be no-doubt that a lot of people would be wearing band t-shirts.

Coryo, on the other hand, was wearing blue jeans, which had rips up and down them but he didn't really care; they were styled that way so people wouldn't pick up on his financial situation and he looked good in them too. He wore a large short sleeve plain white shirt and an oversized dark red hoodie over it with a gold chain he borrowed from Sejanus around his neck. He liked his simplicity. Not too "poor-looking" and not too fancy either. It was a perfect mix of what he needed to show and comfort.

The boys were waiting for Sunni by the door of the estate, and when they saw her, Coryo's jaw hit the Titanic.

Sunni had curled her hair a little, just to make it bouncy, and was wearing a white dress where the sleeves rested on the arms instead of the shoulders. It came down to the middle of her calves. She was wearing gold-coloured heels, which were the kind you had to tie on you, so you didn't fall out of the shoes. The only accessory she had was a silver necklace that had a jeweled sunflower.

She looked stunning. She was way too good for Festus. She was a goddess. Someone to be worshipped. Not be manipulated by Festus.

Coryo tried to speak as Sejanus answered the door.

"Festus!!" Sunni exclaimed, seeing him at the door. She giggled and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend's neck, kissing his cheek, as Festus embraced her body.

"Hi, baby," Festus greeted, smiling and sending a triumphant smirk to Sejanus and Coryo as the two glared at him.

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[glitched-username]

Hear me out: rottmnt but they are the actual sizes of the animals

Mikey is 5 inches for box turtles

Donnie is 9 inches for softshells

Leo is 1 ft

Raph is 30 inches (2.5 ft)

Splinter is 10 inches

And April is... there for comparison lol

Read more for my random assembly of thoughts and ideas

Just thinking about how Mikey views Leo and Raph's as giants, being over double his height and Raph being 6x bigger. But Raph and Leo are still tiny compared to humans like April.

And Mikey just loves treating his family like a jungle gym. He's gotten so good at it that no one even flinches when he jumps off an impossibly high distance cause they know he'll catch himself no problem, and if he can't then

Also using this concept to further transmasc-ify Leo cause female red eared sliders are larger than the male counterparts. Just imagining Donnie accidentally outing Leo out of a closet he didn't even know he was in cause

"No, you're the correct turtle species and there's nothing wrong with your mutation, female sliders are just bigger"

"...Donnie, I'm a guy"

"Yeah"

"..."

"..."

Donnie specifically checked why Leo was so tall because he was pissed at the slider gloating about the growth spurt when he became a teen and just straight up diagnosed him with Transgender (tm) like it was the most casual it of info to drop

Donnie is peak borrower energy. But like if a borrower decided to take it to a competitive level. How does he get such crazy tech despite being the size of a hairbrush? By massacring lost or currently devices for their parts. So, thrown out radios? Yep! But also, a store display TV that is currently airing commercials? Also free game for the softshell. He's had the most exposure to humans because of this and is definitely the least freaked out when they first meet April cause he at least knows what to expect (ie: they're more scared of us than we are of them sort of thing).

He's also the most feeal and territorial about his stuff because "do you KNOW how hard it is to lug all these parts into the lair??? If any of you touch you will die"

Also L to Splinter. Going from Lou Jitsu Action Star, to kidnapped and forced to fight in the battle nexus and then turned into a sewer rat and now you have to deal with 4 sons, one literally big enough to bite his head off even as a baby/toddler. He definitely had to start relying on Raph more as they grew up

And Raph

Oh Raph.

He already had a hard time learning his own strength in the original, where they were all roughly similar sizes. But now? He has to really practice being gentle. And he's gotten DAMN good at it. So good that even though it looks like he's being completely reckless and throwing his weight around his tiny brothers, he knows exactly how much pressure each brother of wildly different sizes and durability can take.

Bro is constantly doing mental math that would make Donnie impressed.

He has no idea how to handle meeting April. Like, all he's known is how to be gentle around people cause they're smaller and more fragile and suddenly, here's a human, over double his height... but she's still physically weaker??? Or at least not as durable. She doesn't have a shell or tough scales and wasn't specifically mutated for war so doesn't have any durability/strength/regeneration genes.

When they first meet, I imagine the other boys are less freaked out cause they're used to everyone being taller than them but Raph goes FULL protective mode. Pulling out all the stops because he thinks it's going to be a tough fight, that the human would easily stomp him if he doesn't go all out.

But when he sees she isn't fighting back and is hurt pretty bad from his bites (1000 psi ain't a joke, she's lucky she still has all her limbs after that) he instantly goes from "evil giant monster must attack" to "mother hen" and gets extremely apologetic.

Not an... amazing first meetup but April jokes about it now, Raph even gives her little play bites when they're messing around or just absentmindedly gnawing on it while watching a movie(though much more gentle). And while Raph COULD give little playful bites to his little brothers, he has to be VERY aware and VERY careful while doing so, but with April he can be a bit looser with how gentle he is

I imagine once he gets his powers he's finally so happy that he can give April an actual hug for once lol

And I don't think Draxum reaaalllyyy anticipated the turtles not growing to a more human height. In his defense this was basically the first time he used live human DNA during the mutation process. How was he supposed to know that the animal's height would take priority over the human's height?

Draxum saw splinter shrink down into a rat during his escape but just assumed they were all so small that they couldn't have survived the collapse. Oh well, he'll make sure to fix that flaw when he finally gets his lab back up and running.

...

...

Also Mikey is still the strongest

[introvertedbread]

Cabaji as a boyfriend

A/N: Yes I'm aware bf fic's are not exactly my main content, yes I've never written for One Piece, and yes...there is little demand for this guy- but what am I if not spiteful and confusing :)

CW: Tsundere's, Knives, inappropriate use of a unicycle (don't try it at home kids), likely not proof-read. F/C= favorite color

A surprise to nobody, he's a Tsundere, buckle up.

He rarely accepts PDA, he thinks others wont respect him if he's seen being "soft"

give this guy a chance, it takes him a long time to trust others, especially after he lost his brother.

Listens to some of the edgiest "its not a phase mom" music known to man, this guy 100% listens to "Emo Girl" un-ironically.

a really good singer! he never sings in-front of others, but if you catch him in the shower you might hear him humming or full-on singing if its been a good morning so far!

Really good with clumsy partners, if he can handle a unicycle, he can handle you're dumb-ass <3

adding onto that, he once caught you once "borrowing" his unicycle to reach a high-up shelf. (you fell off and broke your ankle, he patched you up while heavily scolding you)

Loves to scare the soul out of you when its 7 am, you just woke up, and ask for a knife to butter your morning toast and he just yanks one out of his throat and casually hands it to you (Walks away until out of ear-shot and starts hysterically laughing at your shocked face)

His love-language is gift-giving! he will sneak you little things like knives, snacks, or even poetry and songs he wrote! (not that he cares or something, no way at all 👀)

In all honesty, Cabaji really does love you, he just sucks at showing it, but you're his whole world and would feel like crap if he learned you didnt think he cared (Not that he would ever show it, but expect to find a handmade knife with a F/C handle on your bed the next night)

(I really hope you enjoyed this! remember to send in a request! its totally free and really makes my day! it also lets me write more content for ya'll since I have ideas <3)

[natasha-in-space]

Hey ive a small request. I just thought of yoosung route with an mc who....actually knew him for a long time and had secretly crushed on him and admired him when both of them were in school. It is pretty canon that yoosung was a popular kid at his school and had many girls crushing on him. One of the girls happened to be mc who cant help but admire him from afar. Back in the day yoosung was the first guy who had been kind and sweet towards her and that stuck with her for the rest of her life. She never confessed her feelings, thinking that she might be "too weird" for him (since she was one of the "weird girls" of the class because of her shyness).

She however never found out about his grief regarding rika, she has a faint memory of him appearing sad on the day of graduation and she has no idea why...it just felt very unusual of him from her perspective. She mustered up some courage to ask him why he is sad but he pushed her away by plastering a fake smile and saying "im actually fine dont worry", she knew he was lying but that day she couldnt ask him more and force him to talk. Few days later she moves out to a different country with her family

Fast forward to current time she ends up being stuck in the apartment because she could not say no to an obviously shady man and finds the same guy she had once admired.

Because the mc here is a very socially awkward person, I am pretty sure she would end up only inviting a handful of people so its going to be the normal ending instead of good ending (which basically means that she would meet him at the hospital and not at the party)

So how do you think the reunion will be. I love your writings very much i want to see your take on this

Life can be so peculiar.

You can meet people by who's side you will end up spending the rest life with, by pure chance. Or, you can lose the one person you thought understood you more than anyone else could. It's unpredictable. And that's a thought that is both terrifying and relieving to ponder over late in the night, when there is nothing else fot you to do but just lay there and stare at the ceiling of your bedroom, deep in thought.

It was unexpected to meet Yoosung again, to say the least. It seems like such cliche story, ripped straight from some generic k-drama and not real life, doesn't it? A shy, closed off kid meeting their popular high school crush further down the line, when they are both now established adults with their own individual lives. But, then again, maybe it wasn't as strange. It's not like you went through some mind-boggling 'glow-up' in these few years, like characters in k-dramas usually do. You were still the same introverted and kind of nerdy dork you were in high school, just a bit more capable of putting up a somewhat acceptable front in public.

Yoosung, though? He was almost an entirely different person.

Well, not entirely, but he was still a far cry from the popular and academic boy you knew back in high school. Not in a bad way, per se... But, it still shocked you quite a bit once you got to know him fully. Then again, it's not like you have really known him at all until now. That doesn't mean your past crush on him was superficial by any means, but it was still rather innocent and puppy-like on your end. You wanted to get to know him better, to see sides of him you couldn't see when he was in public... but, you were far too insecure and skittish to be so bold.

Alas, life had other plans for you.

His hair was not the same neatly styled brunette you remembered. In its place, was a new bright blonde hue that fit him surprisingly well, layered in an adorably casual look that made your heart skip a beat the moment you saw his selfie in the chat, when you first joined. His choice of clothing was more free-spirited, less classy and uptight. The type that made you wonder how his shirts would look and feel on you if you were to borrow them. And his overall attitude seemed to have become a bit more carefree and lighthearted. These major changes surprised you. But, they weren't unwelcome by any means. They intrigued you. Made you want to talk to him, and learn all the ways that he has changed in these couple of years.

Thankfully, you were a bit more chatty behind the safety of your phone.

With chatting, you could take your time and make sure your wordings are correct. You didn't have to just say the first thing that came to mind and then follow through with it. You could express yourself accurately. And you would use that lucky opportunity to its full potential.

Yoosung's apparent active neglect of his studies was surprising to you. The straight-A student you knew back in high school was completely different from this older Yoosung. Maybe you should have been put off by this particular negative change of his, but it only made you grow concerned for him. The more you talked, the less... happy he appeared to you. Sure, his attitude was cheery and carefree on the surface. But, sometimes, you would read upon a phrase or two that would make you pause, your brows furrowing in concern and your heart clenching in your chest, despite it being passed around like a light joke or something.

I don't really know what my talents are.

I don't really know what I want to do.

I just play games to get rid of stress or feel less lonely.

Trying to find what you're interested in itself is a luxury.

It felt like... he just gave up on himself. On his future, and, subsequently, his own happiness. That thought was gnawing at you. It's like he didn't... believe he was capable of finding fulfillment in life, so he gave up on trying altogether. It wasn't right.

Although he may have neglected his studies, he remained the same passionate and lively person you fell for in back in high school. His drive was still there, but it was almost like it got fizzled out due to something you couldn't quite figure out yet. You did remember him seeming rather... downcast back at your graduation. No, he looked downright crushed.

You have a distinct memory of wanting to approach him and inquire about his wellbeing. Maybe you could have offered for him to come and spend some time with you. Yet, as always, you were far too big of a scaredy cat to do so.

Things had changed since then. You may be shy and timid, but you weren't going to let your fears and insecurities hold you back from doing something you knew in your heart was right. Not when life has given you a second chance like this.

And so, that's how you got here. You finally got to see him face to face after eleven days of complete and utter rollercoaster of emotions. Meeting Yoosung in the hospital ward wasn't how you planned it... but, you were just glad to see him smiling and safe.

Furthermore, his smile was meant for you. An observation that left you reeling as you walked sheepishly into his hospital ward, knowing that everyone has left to give you some alone time. It was just you and him now.

"...Hi."

He smiles wider, as if he's excited to finally hear your voice in person, no longer muffled by his speaker phone. You can see him straining a little bit to sit upright, but ultimately deciding against it. "Hi."

So much to say, yet so little time... You find yourself just staring at him for a few moments, before deciding to just go for it. Considering everything that happened during these eleven days between you two, there was no need for you to be cautious or distant. He was pretty straightforward with you about his feelings. Much more upfront than you could ever be. And, some part of you was still in disbelief that he has actually come to love you in such a short amount of time.

It was too good to be true.

You reach his bedside and sit on the chair placed neatly next to it. Without thinking much about it, you reach out and place a gentle hand on his palm, his skin soft and warm under your touch. It makes you smile almost inadvertently. "It's... so good to finally see you. Are you alright? We were all so shocked when Seven..."

"-I'm okay. You don't have to worry." Yoosung cuts you off in a soft tone, his smile turning a bit bashful, and you feel his fingers cautiously intertwining with yours, almost like he was testing the waters, wanting to see if you will pull away from his touch. Of course, you didn't. He sighs, seeming to be enjoying the comfortable silence for a brief moment, before continuing, his thumb warmly brushing the back of your hand. "I promise I'll tell you everything a bit later. There will be no secrets between us. I just... I want this moment to be about us, you know?"

Your heart flutters in your chest as you nod in response to such sweet words. You knew what he meant, though. You really did. He was brave enough to say it openly while you weren't. "What... do you want to talk about?"

You opt to give him the initiative here. To see where this would go. He hums softly, pondering for a few moments before replying, his eye always fixed on you. Not like you could blame him. Finally talking to him face to face and not having to imagine what he actually looks like, was having the same effect on you. You two might be more similar than you think.

"...I just... I can't help but think that this was fate, you know? That Rika really did bring you to me. To help me find what I have lost back when she left us. To help me move forward with my life." He licks his lips, and you give him an encouraging nod, letting him know that you are indeed listening. Rushing this was not necessary. He seemed to appreciate your gesture, with an adorably sweet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that made your heart swell. "It's funny... I was so popular back in high school, I had so many people I called my friends, and yet, I barely have seen them since then. Yet, the one who made their way back into my life like a hurricane was... you."

You can't help but chuckle and shake your head a little bit. "I would say it was the other way around... but, I am flattered to hear that."

You sway in your seat, unsure if you should mention it or not. In the end, you make the decision to be truthful. You two are technically a couple now, after all. It's only right to be honest with him. And... a huge part of you was always longing for a chance to tell him what you were far too scared to tell all those years ago.

So, you go for it.

"...How surprised would you be, if I told you that I actually had a huge crush on you back in high school?"

You watch his eyes widen and his mouth fall open as he just stares at you for a few moments, completely taken aback by your revelation. It was both endearing and a bit embarrassing to witness. You chuckle nervously, feeling your cheeks grow warm as you look down at your hands locked together, suddenly far too shy to look him in the eye.

"You just seemed so out of my league back then... You were the popular guy - one everyone liked. And, I mean... who was I? Just an anxious mess always sitting in the back of the class. Invisible and weird. So, I... never really approached you about it." You pause, your expression growing a bit somber as you call back to the day of your graduation. An event that was meant to be a moment of triumph and joy. A celebration of the start of your future. Yet, for you two, it wasn't anything like that. "What I always regretted the most, though... was not talking to you back at our graduation. I could tell that something was wrong, but I was too much of a chicken to actually do anything about it. So, I... when I walked into that apartment, and realized it was actually you... I don't know. I just felt like life has given me a second chance. To make things right this time."

There are a few minutes of silence between you two, nothing but the muffled noises of the hospital bustling with life on the other side of the door, and your shared breathing. Despite this, it's not suffocating or uncomfortable at all. It's oddly peaceful. You know he's processing all that you just told him, and you feel strangely calm as you give him all the time he needs before he responds.

Yoosung gently tugs your hand, a silent request for you to look up at him, and you grant him that request without any reservations on your part. His rosy eye is soft as he looks at you, and his brows slightly knit together, but it is not an expression of displeasure or unhappiness. Rather, it's a look of curiosity and disbelief that makes your breath catch in your throat. You remain silent, though, just waiting for him to come up with his piece.

You told your truth. Now, it was his turn.

"All this time... All this time you were right there, by my side, and I didn't even know it. You really are my blessing, aren't you, Y/N?"

His voice shakes as he speaks, his throat bobbing as he clearly attempts to swallow his emotions. It doesn't seem to work, though, as you can see his eye glistening slightly with unshed tears. So much for not getting emotional. As you gently squeeze his hand, you feel yourself becoming quite choked up too. A small laugh escapes you: a natural response to a rather emotional exchange happening between you. "I wouldn't call it that... I was too much of an anxious mess to do anything for the majority of that time. I'm still that awkward, scared kid, to be quite honest. Just a little bit more mature now."

Yoosung shakes his head, and an adorable pout takes its place on his cheeks. He almost seems offended when he hears you talk about yourself in this manner. "You are so much more than that."

"Yeah?" You smile, finding his insistence rather cute.

"Your words, your encouragements, your trust in me - it all gave me strength to let go of my grief and move forward with my life. Before you came along, I... I was just adrift. After Rika passed, I... I honestly felt like a big part of me died with her. I no longer knew who I was, or what I was meant to do, or if there was any point to what I do, if all my efforts could be just ripped away from so cruelly. I gave up on myself. Truth is, deep down, I didn't believe I could be happy. But, you..." he squeezes your hand, laying his other palm atop of it now as well. "You came along, and you believed in me, when no one else did. You encouraged me and told me that it's never too late to seek out that happiness I thought I lost. You never judged me, never made fun of me. You just... listened. Listened and accepted me for who I was. No, you saw things no one else saw, not even me. I can finally say that I am proud of who I am, and that's because of the way your words have motivated and encouraged me. You are the most brave and amazing person I know. And I'll be damned if I don't tell you that every single day from now on."

You're at a loss for words when faced with such a heartfelt speech. It's just too much. In the best way possible. You are pretty sure you can feel a couple of tears sliding down your cheeks now, as a tiny laugh slips from your lips. You wipe your eyes with your free hand, sniffing.

"...I forgot how great you are at giving motivational speeches."

Your blunt response makes you both laugh, a new lightness filling your chest as you suddenly feel all your nerves fade from your mind. Yoosung didn't make you nervous. Not at all. You knew you were safe with him. Just like you always took his problems and struggles seriously, he would do the same for you.

"I wasn't the class president for nothing, you know."

"That you weren't."

[spartanguard]

sons of love and death, 1/13 {CSSNS 23}

Summary: After the Final Battle, Killian Jones had finally settled into his happily ever after with his wife and family. Until a new foe arrived in Storybrooke: the infamous Dorian Gray, who looks rather familiar—one might say identical—to the pirate, and he's on a mission: to claim the powers of the Dark One for himself. There's only one problem: the Dark One no longer exists. What follows is a journey of vengeance, revelations, magic, and finally facing down the darkness within himself that Killian thought he'd finally put to rest. [roughly canon divergent from 5B, though set post-canon]

A/N: It's time for @cssns​ 2023! Although this story has been in the works for a VERY long time—since fall of 2015, in fact, when a casual manip of some set photos featuring a mirror image of Killian was floating around tumblr and I was suddenly overcome with the desire to see two Killians. (Note that this was WELL before we actually had two Killians in canon!) A not-so-anonymous prompt (from one @kat2609​ ) requested I follow that idea, and I started to—but then canon happened and meant the canon-divergent idea I'd been playing with no long worked. And so it sat for quite a while, until I sat down last year to finally hash it out. And here we are! Hope you enjoy this adventure—which is also complete! Eternal thanks to @optomisticgirl​ for her excellent beta skills on the whole thing! Quick note: the text in italics (or not in italics, during flashbacks) are quotes taken from The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde (considering I also borrowed the main character, in what I hope is an OUAT-esque take on that tale).

rated M | 1.9k words [prologue] | AO3 

The man approached the barrier. An untrained eye might only see the neon line on the pavement, but he could tell that wasn't all—he could feel it. The hum of magic dinned quietly in his ears and made his skin prick ever so slightly, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. He held his hand up to the invisible wall and closed his eyes, concentrating on some unknown. A cigarette burned at his lips and a bit of ash fell on his leather motorcycle jacket, yet it rolled off the material like water.

In a few moments, his hand began to glow a fiery orange, matching the ember at the end of his roll; slowly, he passed the limb through the barrier, feeling a tingle as he did so. A wicked grin covered his face as he opened his eyes and continued to walk over the town line. He tossed the butt of the cigarette off the edge of the road, not caring if fire caught—things tended to go up in flames wherever he went, anyway.

Centuries of chasing down the Dark One were about to pay off. He'd finally take what was rightfully his—what Rumpelstiltskin had stolen—and finally claim the darkest magic known to man for himself.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Signs pointed the way into town. Despite being in a land without magic, this little village was brimming with it. He almost felt as if he was drowning in light magic, even though the town was created by the Dark Curse. As he walked past the cemetery, he picked up a whiff of something different; curiosity piqued, he followed the pull to a mausoleum. Getting in was easy, and he had to admit, that was quite a collection of hearts. But it didn't belong to the Dark One; this must be that of the Evil Queen who dragged everyone here in the first place.

In his time spent with Zoso, he’d grown accustomed to the feel of the Dark One's magic, and the few times he'd been near closing in on Rumpelstiltskin, he easily recognized it. But here—he wasn’t sure. There was something in the air, but he couldn’t put a finger on it; it was just outside the cusp of his awareness. But magic worked differently here, so he kept searching.

Another cigarette fell to ash as he trekked out of the graveyard. He tossed the remains on a random grave (Neal something, whoever the poor sap was), and promptly lit another one. Tobacco was just one of his many vices; women, booze, and gambling rounded out the list of usuals, but magic was by far his biggest, and while he had plenty of his own, he craved more—of a specific variety. After all, the only way to get rid of a temptation was to yield to it. Resist, and the soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself, with desire for what its monstrous laws have made monstrous and unlawful.

It was a short walk to the main drag of the town. A seedy bar, ridiculously named The Rabbit Hole, was definitely calling to his baser instincts. The diner across the street was still open, and a few town residents were making their way home in the twilight. He pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up to hide his face, letting the embers from the cigarette illuminate his jagged scar, strong nose, and blue eyes in a threatening manner.

To his surprise, though, the few people he passed on his journey to nowhere-yet actually acknowledged his presence, and even seemed to give him a nod or a smile—he certainly wasn’t the neighborly type, so why these dimwitted townsfolk saw fit to welcome him was baffling.

By the time he reached the street corner, it was forgotten, as something far more interesting had captured his interest: Dark One...residue, he supposed. There was no sign of the actual sorcerer, but he’d definitely been nearby, and left a trace. The trail seemed to lead him to one Mr. Gold’s Pawnshop. It was faint, but there was definitely something sinister about the little storefront—so many of the seemingly random objects displayed in the window had any number of macabre uses. Definitely his kind of place.

He tried to turn the doorknob, but it wouldn’t budge. So he waited a moment. Again, his palm glowed orange, and a hissing sound filled the air as he melted his way in. With the knob and deadbolt reduced to molten metal, pushing the door open was nothing, and he proceeded to investigate the shop.

The more he looked around, the more he knew that he’d found the man he was looking for. Who else would have a pair of creepy marionettes on full display? Or a seemingly innocuous collection of cursed animal horns? A hand preserved in a glass jar caught his attention; he had to admire someone who kept such trophies around.

But he was here to find the dagger. He couldn’t rely on his extra senses to find it in a shop full of magical objects, so he’d just have to dig on his own. He began searching through cabinets and drawers, overturning stacks of paper and storming through boxes. It was actually an impressive mess he made. There were moments when he looked on evil simply as a mode through which he could realize his conception of the beautiful. But nothing.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, but knew that he wouldn't get anywhere else until the next day.

The night was still young, though, so he made the quick trip back to The Rabbit Hole. The dingy bar was just what he needed to blow off steam: low lights, loud music, and ample ladies. A pretty brunette on the dance floor caught his eye, and the bartender took his order: the finest whiskey, on the rocks, keep 'em coming. He could afford a night of fun before he finally—finally—took what was his.

He didn't notice the sideways glances that followed him as he began to grind with the girl, hips moving in time with the music and each other. He was used to them.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

The next morning's sun was too bright and the air too crisp for his hungover self to appreciate; if he had any say, it would be cloudy and murky, just like his mind. The girl he went home with last night—Tisbe or something equally ridiculous—kicked him out early, leaving him on the streets of this absurd town with a raging headache and an empty stomach.

He threw open the door to the diner and slouched onto a stool at the counter, unaware of the dying buzz of the patrons as he did so. The elderly proprietress of the establishment asked him a question, but he was still too unfocused to properly hear it or respond and so grunted an assent; hopefully, she was asking if he wanted coffee. He'd really take anything right now.

The woman paused after his half-assed response, then walked away. As he studied the dated pattern of the counter, he heard a scoff from the seat next to him. "What's your deal, man?"

Blearily, he looked up; a short, stocky man with a thick beard was glaring at him. "What's it to you?" he slurred.

"I saw you at the Rabbit Hole last night and now you're being a dick to Granny?"

"And now I get to be a dick to you: fuck off, dwarf." He was in no mood for a lecture. He knew what kind of person he was.

"I told you I was gonna keep my eye on you. Guess you haven't changed."

Enough. He grabbed the dwarf's collar and stared him down. "You don't know me, pal. And if you think you do, you're sorely mistaken."

"Hey man, back off." The dwarf pushed back and he tumbled from his stool.

"Oh, you'll regret that," he said as he slowly stood. When he turned back to face the dwarf, a fireball was at the ready; he relished the way his foe's eyes widened.

He pulled back, ready to send the flame flying, but before he could, he saw a fist and then nothing.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

If he thought his hangover was bad, whatever this was was worse. His body was a solid bruise; he was sure of it. He remembered being punched but he must have fallen, too, and the scene from the diner slowly came back to him. His stomach grumbled in protest of still not having any food, and the echoing groan from his lips told the story for the rest of his body.

Sunlight streamed in through a window and had just reached an angle to hit him directly in the eyes, which made him realize he was lying down on something hard. Before the light had blinded him, he made out the too-familiar sight of bars and figured he was in this town's version of prison. He rolled over in an attempt to escape the sun, prompting a chuckle from somewhere nearby.

"Haven't you inbreds heard of blinds?" he barked, his voice hoarse.

"I'm surprised you even know what those are." It was a man's voice and he sounded annoyed.

"You clearly don't." He slowly opened his eyes so he could adjust to the room's brightness. The cool gray cinderblock was a good start.

"I'm disappointed in you." The man almost sounded sad.

"As I told the asshole in the diner, you don't know me." He groggily sat up to stare the man down; a sheriff's badge gleamed from where it was hooked to his jeans, below crossed arms and a stern glare.

"I know you plenty well, pirate." He'd been called many things, but that was a new one. "How could you do this to Emma?"

Who? "Who the fuck is Emma?" Something weird was going on, but his brain hurt too much to process it.

"I the fuck am Emma," came a feminine voice from the hallway, followed by the clack of boot heels as she approached. The sheriff ran in her direction, stopping her before she came into view.

"Emma, hold on; I have to tell you something."

"Dad, what's going on?" His vision was blearier than he thought if he hadn't noticed that the man was old enough to have an adult daughter.

The rest of their conversation was too quiet for him to hear, so he slumped back against the concrete wall and glanced around the station. He still cursed their lack of window hangings.

The sheriff came back, followed by his daughter. Ooh, now there was a sight. A gorgeous blonde came into view, a vision in a red leather jacket. Now why wasn't she at the bar last night? A much better bedfellow she would have made.

Until he saw that she, too, wore a badge. Law enforcement was an immediate turnoff.

She wore a concerned look on her face as she slowly approached his holding cell. It seemed as if she was studying his face, searching for something. But she must have come up empty, as relief flooded her features, followed quickly by confusion.

"That's not Killian."

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・🗡・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading! (longer chapters to come!) tagging some peeps (let me know if you do/don’t want a tag!) @kat2609​ @xpumpkindumplingx​ @shipsxahoy​ @mryddinwilt​ @cocohook38​ @annytecture​ @shireness-says​ @ohmightydevviepuu​ @wistfulcynic​ @pirateherokillian​ @colinoeyebrows​ @wingedlioness​ @word-bug​ @thisonesatellite​ @wellhellotragic​ @welllpthisishappening​ @let-it-raines​ @killianmesmalls​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @ineffablecolors​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​ @nfbagelperson​ @stubblesandwich​​ @phiralovesloki​ @athenascarlet​ @kmomof4​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @snowbellewells​ @idristardis​ @scientificapricot​ @searchingwardrobes​ @donteattheappleshook​ @jrob64​ @the-darkdragonfly​ @stahlop​ @klynn-stormz​ @resident-of-storybrooke​

[animelovelover123]

DMC: Family Pet AU – Habits Die Hard (Part 2/2)

Link to Master List [Links to other parts can be found in master list.]

Set-Up

Growing up in your colony where any of your people could be, and were, snatched up any moment to serve a family, you were taught from birth what to expect when you were eventually taken. How to please, how to survive, and how to ride out any possible abuse. The latter two things were of no use to you though as the Sparda family took exceptional care of you and would not inflict serious punishment past a stern talking to. But for the first year, you couldn’t quite shake off your colony’s warnings and teachings, some being cute, some being bad, some being sad.

Lady

“Alright guys, we need to talk about Lady.” Nico said, smacking her hand down on Dante’s desk like a gavel in court.

“Ya, she’s been acting wired lately.” Nero agreed, leaning his hip against Dante’s desk with his arms crossed.

“I’d say,” Dante started, sitting up straight in his chair looking almost fearful. “I joked that I couldn’t pay my debt to her this month, and she said, ‘it’s fine’.”

“Holy shit.”

“It’s more serious than we thought.”

“I have an idea of what’s wrong.” Trish said casually as she ran her fingers through your hair, her long nails giving your scalp a pleasant scratch. Trish was sitting atop Dante’s desk with you standing beside her, leaning towards her a bit, enjoying the affection while listening. “Just to make sure, what’s today’s date?”

“Ah, it’s that time of the month, is it?” Dante jokes. Trish rolls her eyes, Nico giggles a little, and Nero ignores him while announcing the date.

“Thought so.” Trish gives you a few good scratches to distract you and herself from the imminent sour mood. “Today is the anniversary of her mother’s murder.”

The room falls quiet, a silence that is both empty yet filled with understanding. The cold silence was eventually broken when Lady’s motorcycle could be heard driving up to Devil May Cry and right into the garage. Dante, Nico, and Nero all tensed up while Trish focused on petting you to try and keep you both relaxed.

“Oh, you’re all here.” Lady said plainly, her voice distant and her eyes dead-looking. “Nico, Nero, do you mind if I borrow your tools? Something is wrong with my muffler.”

The whole time Lady spoke, the group was silent and ridged, as if one false move would cause an explosion. Nero muttered a ‘sure’ while Nico only nodded. As soon as Lady returned to the garage, they all leaned in and started muttering in a panic.

“Oh my god, I’ve never seen her like that.”

“What do we do? Can we even help?”

“We should at least try to talk to her.”

“Hell no, I don’t feel like getting shot to high heaven today.”

“But you have known her the longest out of all of us here, Dante.”

“True, but I don’t think it should be me.”

“Don’t be such a pussy. She ain’t that scary.”

“Hey, you haven’t been on the other side of her Kalina-Ann. Besides, what I meant is that I don’t think I have the right to help her through grieving for her mother. Sure, I thought I lost my folks for a few years, but I got them back. I don’t feel like I have the right to talk about dead parents.”

“Okay then, Trish, you’ve known her the second longest.”

“Don’t look at me, I don’t even have parents. You two have actually lost your mothers.”

“I never knew my mom.”

“And I almost pissed my pants when Lady rolled up so there ain’t no way I’m gettin’ in there.”

As the four bicker about what to do, your attention drifts. Your species of demon was built to serve love and affection to families, so it was instincts that compelled you to sneak away from the group and slip into the garage where Lady was working. Lady glanced at you over her shoulder, checking who it was before reacting negatively or neutrally.

“Hey sunshine.” She said dryly, returning to working on her bike. “I’m not really in the mood to talk right now.”

“That’s okay. You mind if I stay in here with you though?” You ask, not approaching further into her space until she gives the okay. She looks at you wearily, contemplating telling you to leave but not having the drive to do much of anything right now other than work.

“Sure, if you’d like.” She turned away from you and didn’t glance back your way for the next half hour as she kept working. The four outside did not bother the two of you once they realized that you had gone in and were not immediately kicked out, now trusting you to handle the situation. You sat in silence with her, not encroaching on her personal space but giving off a calming and soothing aura and just being there for her. Though she did not say anything, you could see how Lady began to relax a bit over time from her locked-up, cold focus to something sadder and more thoughtful. Even if you weren’t talking, your presence was like a gentle hand on her shoulder. A hand that didn’t push her forward or hold her back, one that was just there in solidarity and support.

Eventually, she stood up and walked over to you where you were sitting on one of the work benches. She looked down at you, her blank expression and cold eyes now replaced with a sad, almost pleading look. Without needing to be asked, you wrap your arms around Lady and press up against her, nuzzling into her and purring softly to soothe her. She instantly reciprocated, winding her arms around you and holding you close as she began to cry softly.

Trish

You had spent the last hour wondering Sparda’s mansion. No one had called for you and though you had been taught by your colony to stay within your chamber (if you were lucky enough to have one) until requested, you had been given permission to explore common areas freely. It had taken quite a bit of assurance from the family for you to feel comfortable enough to wonder.

This was only your second exploration trip and you had not ventured far from your room. You were looking up at some large painted portraits, some of past generations and some of the still living family. It was, so far, the only time you got to see all of your family in formal clothing as they were dressed up for the family portraits. Some looked natural in such luxurious outfits, such as Credo and Kyrie, whereas others looked a bit out of place, like Dante and Lady, and others looked like they had been stuffed into a weird costume against their will, poor Nero and Nico.

Your gazing is interrupted when you hear the sound of approaching steps, heels clipping loudly on the stone flooring.

“What a waste of time.” Grumbled Trish as she threw the doors to the hall open. She looked a bit frazzled, some of her hair stuck out from its usual slicked-back style, a couple of the strings on her corset top were loose and broken, and her make-up faded. Her brows were curved down in annoyance and she clicked her nails against her thumbnail out of stress. When her eyes landed on you though, her perturbed mood broke. “Kitten!” She smiles tiredly and quickly approaches you. “Come here baby, I’ve had a hard day and need some love and care.” She grabs you and pulls you into an embrace. She tucks your head under her chin, as she is a fair bit taller than you, and starts stroking your head, scratching behind one of your ears. And when her other hand snakes around your waist, your teaching of expecting to be lifted and carried to where you are wanted kicks in.

You wrap your arms around Trish’s neck and lift your legs. Trish stumbles forward at the sudden weight in her arms but catches herself before she falls forward.

“What are you doing kitten?” She asks with a chuckle, clearly not upset, just confused and a bit amused.

“I’m sorry, I assumed you wanted to carry me.” You explain as you start to lower your feet back to the floor.

“Aww~” Trish coos, quickly grabbing your legs and wrapping them around her hips. She could easily lift you, the stumble before being just because she wasn’t expecting it. “Such a cutie. Of course I want to hold you.” Once your legs are fastened around her curves, she wraps one arm around you to hold you to her and starts running her fingers through your hair, scratching your scalp with her long nails pleasantly. “How about we go back to your room where I can rant about my day while we cuddle, kitten? But first, I know where Sparda keeps his expensive champagne and sweets.”

Dante

The Basilisk dies with a flash of fire as Dante slices it in two. As you run out of your hiding place Dante watches the mixture of mechanical parts, human energy, and demon sludge spill out of the Basilisk into the snow.

“And they say beauty is on the inside, but you guys are ugly inside and out.” He jokes to the corpse. When you saddle up beside him and look down at the demon he just mocked, you notice its canine-like attributes. Your tail sags and your ears flop. Dante notices this. “Oh, no baby, that doesn’t apply to you.” He turns to you and ruffles your hair, giving a little scratch behind one of your dog-like ears so it perks up a bit. “You’re the cutest demon around. As for on the inside…” He scans your body, top to bottom and back, and smirks. "Well, I hope your insides are as good as your outsides." He gives you a flirtatious wink. He turns away, chuckling to himself at your pink cheeks and his own line, while your mind starts to race.

That was a come on right? When he said ‘insides’ he meant inside your… Right, okay, you have been trained to pick up on these things by your colony. Dante wants to have sex. This would be your first time together and doing it out here on a snowy mountain will be… an interesting experience. But this is one of your main duties as a family Pet.

It didn’t take long for Dante to notice that you weren’t following him. “Babe?” He turns around to find you halfway undressed, pants doped to the snow below, coat off, and shirt in the process of being pulled over your head. “Whoa there!” Dante rushes over to you. He grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it back down, easily outmatching you in strength as you try to pull it up and off. “What are you doing babe? I know I make you all hot and bothered but this isn’t how you deal with it.” He jokes, holding your shirt in place as you try to tug it up again.

“But you made that comment about my insides. That was an innuendo, right?”

“It was. Good job on picking up on the joke.” When you let go of your shirt Dante lets go as well to instead kneel. He picks up your pants pooled around your feet in the snow and starts sliding them back up your legs.

“So that means you want sex, right?” You say in all seriousness. Dante pauses for a moment, then lets out a hearty laugh.

“No baby, it’s just me being me. I’m not actually asking for sex right here, right now.” Dante says as he does up your pants for you, an amused grin on his face. He then grabs your coat, stands, and throws it around your shoulders. “And you better get used to these kinds of jokes because I don’t think it would be good for either of us if you try stripping in public every hour.”

Kyrie

You snuck through the dark hallways towards the kitchen trying your best to be quiet, but you couldn’t tell how much noise you were making because your heart was pounding in your ears. You had been taught to do this by your colony. Had spent hours of your life training to steal food from your eventual family. Yet, like many things, when actually in the situation all of your confidence and knowledge disappears. It also didn’t help that the circumstances you were in were not why your colony had given you these skills. The point of being taught how to steal food was so that if a Pet’s family was so cruel and/or uncaring that they refused to feed them, then the Pet could take enough food to keep themselves alive without causing alarm. You, however, were never denied food. It was just that you had a busy day and went for a nap. You slept right through dinner time and woke up at 6 in the morning. No one was awake but your stomach felt like it was collapsing in on itself. You needed to eat, so here you were, sneaking around the kitchen in the dark, looking for food that you could take bits of without it being noticeable.

“Oh!”

The startled yelp took you by surprise and, knowing that you had been caught, you instinctually ran and hid under the table in the corner of the kitchen.

“My goodness.” Came the still frazzled sigh of Kyrie. “I’m sorry if I startled you.” She approached the table and got down on her knees so she could look at you. “You must have been looking for something to eat. Come, let’s have a snack together.” She offers you her hand and a gentle smile, but you pull away from it, backing up as far into the corner the table was in as you can. Her smile falters a bit. She did not look angry or hurt, more so sympathetic and understanding, as if you were an injured animal growling at the humans trying to help you.

She did not try to force you out, nor did she encroach further. Instead, she stood back up and went to work. She had wrapped up your portion of dinner when you didn’t wake up for food last night and now she was reheating it. Once it, and a drink, was ready, she placed them on the floor I’m the middle of the kitchen.

“These are for you. Eat when you are ready.” Kyrie then went about preparing a cup of tea for herself and started on breakfast preparations. She did not hover around the food, guard it, or even look at it as she knew that may frighten you off. She kept her eyes on her own work, though she did smile when she heard you exit from under the table and start eating. She finally looked at you when you brought her your empty plate and thanked her. She pets you and praises you.

“Well done, finishing all of your food.” Her gentle petting stopped as she slid her slender hand down the side of your face so she could caress your cheek. “But please, don’t feel like you need to sneak around for food. You are free to eat whatever you want.” She pulls your faces closer so she can lay her forehead against yours. “But if you feel uncomfortable with that, then know that you can come to me whenever. No matter the time, all you need to do is find me and I will make you whatever you want.”

Vergil

You hear nothing as you finally answer Vergil’s call, his office in The Order’s headquarters plagued was a deafening silence and oppressive stillness. Your family mark had been pulsing for a good 45 minutes, informing you that Vergil was calling for your audience. It took you 10 minutes just to force your sick body to respond. Your head was pounding, your body felt like it was both on fire and freezing, your nose was stuffed, and your limbs were heavy. Still, you answered the call because your colony taught you that if you failed to appear when requested you would be punished harshly.

“Finally.” Vergil said, his quiet, frustrated tone booming in the silent room. “As the Sparda family Pet, I expect more from you.” He snaps before turning around. His expression is cold and judgmental, but when he finally sees the state you are in his brow raises in curiosity and subtle shock.

“I’m sor-“ Before you can even give an apology, Vergil waves off your attempt.

“You are ill.” He states, taking your current state as a good enough reason to be late. Though why you came at all was another issue. “Why did you not respond to my signal with one of your own? You should have informed me that you were unfit to serve.” He watches you closely, studies how you hesitate to answer and shrink away at his seemingly angry demeanour, though he simply naturally came off as angry. He quickly found his answer. “But that would go against the training of your people, would it not?” He scoffs without letting you answer. “Foolish. You are of no use in this state.”

Vergil then turns away from you and calls for members of The Order. Within seconds a trio enters his office and give him a salute, which he does not return. Instead, he starts giving orders. “One of you, call for a nurse. The other two, lead my pet to my resting quarters. See that they rest and provide them with whatever they require. And make sure to keep me updated on any changes to their condition. And if any of my family come to take them, see that my family speaks with me first.” The look in Vergil’s eyes makes it clear that he would not so much ‘speak’ with his family as ‘shoo them away’ so they would not disturb your recovery.

[nat-20s]

First flash fic!

@rocketsagan-blog prompted:

"The pets of an experimental scientist, a cat and a dog, manage to get into the lab while their human is away and manage to get into so much equipment that they manage to do some wild science-magic and now talk and understand each other. The story could begin right when they realize what has taken place. Maybe they're casual friends, maybe they hate each other? What could happen!"

~*~

It was that damned dog’s idea in the first place. I had to follow her, obviously, what kind of cat would I be if I just let her run rampant in our human’s lab by herself? Absolutely inexcusable. So, yes, I may have entered the lab while the human was away and, yes, I may have knocked over a flask or two, but I can hardly be to blame here. The mutt needed supervision. I felt it was my duty as the...premier intelligence of the house.

Of course, I could hardly do much to stop her once she started sticking that stupidly long snout in everything. She’s three times my size and, much to my chagrin, does have bigger teeth than me. Let the creature push some buttons. Once I think we’re in real troub-“Hey, do you, like, have to stand up there like you’ve got a stick up your ass or is that just a hobby of yours?”

I’m hardly proud to admit it, but I did, in fact, jump. In no reality should the walking carpet known as the dog have the ability to talk to me, but she came through loud and clear. To borrow one of my human’s particular turns of phrase, “Oh, what the ever-loving fuck?”

It was the dog’s turn to startle, and startle she did. “Since when do you talk?”

“I’ve always talked! It’s you that’s being making those...those abysmal grunts!”

“Excuse me?! Where the hell are you coming from? I know the kind of noises you make at the birds and you don’t exactly sound like sunshine.”

The dog wanted a fight. I suppose to be slightly fair, I also wanted a fight. One scratch against that good for nothing’s muzzle and she wouldn’t be freaking me out with her speech any time soon. “Listen up you mange-ridden flea-bitten half-crazed-”

“Fuck off. We’ve been in the same house for years, there’s no damn way that one of us would have mange OR fleas while the other wouldn’t.”

“I notice you didn’t exactly refute half-crazed.”

“Bite me.”

“I’m strongly considering it.”

Much to my amazement, this made her laugh. Huh. Not the terrible, retching laugh I expected, in all honesty. It wasn’t even mocking. Perhaps she didn’t know how or perhaps she just. Wasn’t mocking.

Well, I can hardly say if this little..development is going to be an improvement to the household situation, but at the very least it’s sure to be interesting.

[semper-legens]

84. Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Life, by Bryan Lee O’Malley

Owned: No, borrowed from my brother. Page count: Unknown My summary: Scott Pilgrim is doing alright. Sure, he’s unemployed, his band sucks, and he’s dating a high schooler, but that’s not gonna get him down. But then Ramona Flowers rollerblades into his life. Strange, sarcastic, and kind of sweet on him, Ramona looks to be exactly who Scott needs in his life right now. That is, until trouble looms on the horizon. Ramona’s seven evil exes are coming...and Scott is in for a world of hurt. My rating: 3/5 My commentary:

Ah, Scott Pilgrim. A classic of nerd media, and rightfully so. The comics are these days less well-known than the movie Scott Pilgrim versus the World, which was developed while the later comics in the series were still being written. I read the entire Scott Pilgrim series many, many years ago, but I don't really remember it very well, so while I was at my brother's place I idly decided to read the first from his collection. While I ultimately didn't enjoy it as much as I thought I was going to, I don't think that was the comic's fault, and it's still a solid little narrative.

So why didn't I enjoy it so much? Well, as I said, I'm much more used to the movie based on these comics - and at least with this early content, the movie adapts its source material very literally. Much of this book made it into the film almost 1:1, which meant I was mostly bored reading it because I was just remembering the movie rather than getting immersed in the book. That's not really its fault, though, and I'm sure that if I had continued with the other books, I would have found that effect to lessen as the series went on. That said, this is a blog about my subjective opinions of things, and my subjective opinion of Scott Pilgrim this time round was a resounding 'meh'.

Of course, that's not to say that the comic itself is boring. There's a reason both it and the movie based on it became so iconic. The simplistic art style is both cute and readable, the dialogue sizzles off the page, and the characters and world are quirky in a way that's fun and engaging and not just annoying, which is a hard line to walk. I love the idea of being just a regular person living in a video game like world where you can have a hyperspace portal running through your brain or you can beat someone up to make coins fly out of them. It's a neat idea, and the casual way this is introduced as an aspect of this world works really well. It's a good comic! Just not one I enjoyed this time round.

Next up, back to my weird special interests, and a prisoner of war camp in World War Two.

[rafaelcb]

THE INSPIRATION BEHIND… RAFAEL CRISTIAN BARDALES

it was a sin / the revivalists 🎧

i'm a man / black strobe 🎧

notorious / duran duran 🎧

rafael is … 24k gold cuff links, cigar smoke and whiskey glasses, skyscrapers against the black sky, the hum of a ferrari's engine, spotless soccer cleats leaving the sports complex, an absurd amount of silk ties, the scent of tom ford tuscan leather on a pillowcase, his mother singing in italian while cooking, his father conducting business meetings down the hall and an unmatched intensity in both rivalry and passion.

Rafael is one of those characters that I can say with complete honesty… I don't really have a lot in common with. I'm a thirty-something year-old woman, it's sort of hard to say that you relate to a fifty-something year-old man who grew up on the Amalfi Coast, but that's what has made playing him as fun as it is. … I'm also a lot taller than Mark Consuelos, so sorry Rafael, I can't relate. Still, I mostly chose Mark because a good friend and I thought he was very attractive and I had a burning desire to play an older character with a lot of life behind him… and lot left to live.

That being said, some characters that inspired Rafael would of course be Hiram Lodge from Riverdale, just in terms of the aesthetic, body language, having a head for business, the good things… not so much the evil. (I also quit watching Riverdale, so don't ask me more than that.) Other characters that inspired him would be Elijah Mikaelson as far as how he dresses and his countenance and personality, Edward Lewis from Pretty Woman -- a man who has far, far too much money for his own good and prefers to keep his relationships casual, Robert McAllister from Brothers & Sisters, in terms of still having a good heart, despite the work that he does, and … Gabe Ricci from the Choices novel, Laws of Attraction. Far more than I want to admit.

At the point when Rafael was created in my mind, I had Cage, who was the quintessential small town golden boy who ran away and came crawling back to build a life, and the effervescent go-getter Nari. Both lived within their means and fit into the small town life perfectly, so someone who rolled into town and made it his bitch in twenty years by amassing a fleet of luxury cars, owned a sprawling countryside estate with a wine cellar, and wore nothing without a designer label… hell yeah, sign me up.

Given that Mark himself is Italian and Mexican, I chose to have him be born and raised on the Amalfi Coast to an Italian mother and a Mexican father -- that part, I defintiely borrowed from Mark. His love of lasagna comes from me. Having him live in New York City after moving away from home just made sense to me. A hot shot lawyer should always cut their teeth in one of the most well-known cities in the world. And a lawyer just seemed to make sense … also because I was reading Laws of Attraction at the time, I'm sure. The real estate aspect came along further down the line for him simply because I enjoy looking at houses and wanted to play someone who was a mogul across several fields.

For me, one of the most exciting things to explore with Rafael was his backstory, and how he became who he is in the present day. I think a lot of people are afraid to play characters with any gray moral areas: they want to be either all bad, or all good (mostly the latter). I wanted to delve into the idea of this guy who had the world at his fingertips: gorgeous wife, top of his firm, penthouse apartment overlooking the city… and then he dropped the ball. But it couldn't just be a little bit… it had to be all the way. Rafael had to cheat on his wife and throw his entire life away to start over again. And it isn't as though he's tried to paint himself as perfection since then. I play Rafael as the quiet kind of person that doesn't really divulge a lot about his personal life, but he's also a serial dater, the sort of person with three lovers at once. He's just more honest about it these days.

On the opposite side of his lothario tendencies, it was important to me that Rafael have a shot at redemption. To rebuild himself from the ground up as the person that he wanted to be vs. the person he had been becoming in New York City. Let go a little bit of the morally shaky ground he had been on to build up a new reputation, a better reputation. I fucking love a good redemption arc. The idea of this person coming in on a trajectory similar to the Benefactor in terms of making positive changes in the town fascinated me, too, and over the year and a half since our soft open, having people ask me if he's the Benefactor has made me laugh deviously. He's not. But he started small and built his company and let go of the shame he held onto in the past… he just had to work extremely hard to get there.

Personality-wise, I was inspired by characters who had wealth, who weren't afraid to show that they had wealth, but did not make it their entire personality. Yes, Rafael has nice things. But he doesn't talk about those nice things constantly, unless it's tongue in cheek. Yes, Rafael gives to charity often. But he doesn't talk about doing that, unless asked. Yes, he gets VIP tickets to every Duran Duran concert. … that, he does brag about. I also wanted to play a sort of eternal bachelor who isn't closed off to the idea of love, but absolutely isn't looking for it… and maybe doesn't trust himself after his first marriage. He has close friends, and he has acquaintances, there's very few in between with Rafael. He can be a little tough to figure out; sometimes he forgets to leave the court room in the court room and that's because I like a good, stoic, intense man. And of course, at the heart of it all -- his family. His mother and father who have moved to town; mother who volunteers at the hospital, father who works on the board of his company. The absolute lights of his life, who bring out the 'true' Rafael -- a laughing, smiling man who enjoys a good lasagna and movie night.

He wears Tom Ford cologne and has an entire section of closet that is dedicated to nothing but ties, cuff links and accessories to go with his ... well, entire other sections of his closet filled with designer duds that he wears to work daily. That's because I like men's fashion. He also rolls his sleeves and wears loafers to be casual, because the man cannot be caught looking anything short of perfection. He owns a Ferrari, a Jaguar and a BMW because I really, really like to look at fancy cars, and sorry, but I will always give that to my characters. Oh! And he doesn't like pets. He doesn't think that your rats or shaggy bears are cute, sorry. Something that is both a given and a hidden surprise about Rafael... he plays chess. And he plays damn well. That, I have no inspiration for other than I have never understood the game, but feel like someone with his calculating mind would.

Oh, and watching my dad and my uncles decide that they're of the age to take up golfing… sorry, Rafael. But they've inspired you to golf, too. You're getting good, though.

[w2soneshots]

Kiss the bride -W2S

words: 1.0k+

warnings: sex references.

summary: you and Harry enjoy the best day of your life’s with your closest friends and family.

notes: hi lovelies! I’m so glad I got this request since I’ve been wanting to do a bog wedding fic!! Harry is such a private person when it comes to his love life so I know that he’d want a very private wedding, so that’s what I wrote🤗. Enjoy🤍🫶🏼 (honeymoon part 2 here)

Today I'm finally getting married to the love of my life, Harry Lewis. We haven't spoken since last night since we're staying in separate hotels so I'm excited to finally see him. I'm currently getting ready with the girls and he's most likely stressing out while Tobi attempts to calm him down.

My bridesmaids are: Talia, Freya and Faith. I don't have many good friends other than them and I've known Talia for years, I actually introduced her to Simon. They were so excited when I asked them to be my bridesmaids. I did it with a white box that read 'be my bridesmaid?' On the lid containing a cute robe that had their names embroidered on the back, slippers, a face mask and some chocolate. Harry just casually asked Ethan, Calfreezy and his brother, they were also very excited but definitely not as ecstatic as the girls.

Me and Harry didn't want a hug wedding since it's such a hassle and can cause a lot of stress so we are only having our closest friends and family along with Herb because duh. The ceremony starts at one so I have to be ready by twelve. The girls rushed around, getting themselves ready and my made of honour Talia was constantly making sure I was ok.

All three girls cried when I walked out with my dress on. They'd seen it before when we went dress shopping but this was different. "I can't believe you're actually getting married!" Freya tried desperately not to ruin her makeup as tears pricked her eyes. "Girls stop, you're gonna make me cry!" I walked towards them to pull them into a group hug.

"I need to calm down." I took deep breaths. "I have an idea!" Faith leaped from her seat to grab the speaker Talia had brought. Suddenly 'Unwritten' began playing. I smiled and we all held hands in a little circle, singing our hearts out.

"Reaching for something in the distance. So close you can almost taste it. Release your inhibitions. Feel the rain on your skin. No one else can feel it for you. Only you can let it in. No one else, no one else. Can speak the words on your lips. Drench yourself in words unspoken. Live your life with arms wide open. Today is where your book begins. The rest is still unwritten!"

Once my nerves had calmed I looked at my girls. "Ok now I'm ready." They all smiled bright. Talia had a light pink, long, off the shoulder dress on. Freya wore a pastel green dress with her hair up. And Faith wore a stunning silky blue dress with some small matching heels. They all looked beautiful. We picked up our bouquets then made our way outside.

The ceremony was finished within ten minutes. Me and Harry didn't care that much about the actual ceremony. All eyes were on us and Harry absolutely hates being the centre of attention so we shared our vows, said "I do.", kissed then got ready to party.

We went off to take some photos before I got changed into a long, white, tight fitted dress. "You're fucking married!" Talia shook my shoulders. "I know! I can't believe it." I replied, also shaking her.

Once we sat down and had eaten our food the speeches began. Talia started. "Hello!" she stood in front of everyone. "I've known y/n since I can remember. And I've loved her since the day she let me borrow her special purple lipgloss, in primary school." I giggled. "I was so excited for her when she told me she'd met someone. And I'm so happy that he finally asked her to marry him. Since it's been long awaited." She winked at me. "Thank you for giving me the honour of being your best friend, and I promise I'll always be here if you need to complain about Harry's video game screams." Everyone burst out laughing.

Next up was Ethan, Harry's best man. "Good afternoon everyone. For those of you that don't know me, my name's Ethan and after all these years it's nice that Harry has finally admitted that I'm the best man!" Harry raised his brows. Ethan continued. "We all know that Harry's really hot so y/n is a very lucky woman," I choked out a laugh. "To be completely honest I'm really glad Harry found someone a great as y/n, and I wish you all the best!" I smiled then everyone clapped.

Finally the party started. The music played, I danced till my feet hurt and it genuinely felt like the best day of my life. When the music began to slow down everyone found their partners. Me and Harry swayed with my head resting on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around my back. "So, was today as awful as you thought?" I asked quietly. He chuckled. "no, definitely not. You've been here the entire time stealing the attention." He replied. I pulled my head back to look at him. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Because you look so beautiful." He said like it was blatantly obvious. "Oh. You're to cute." I placed my head back on his shoulder.

The night went on until eventually people began heading back to their hotels. Harry and I walked back to our airbnb with the biggest smiles on our faces. "Wow." I gawked at the beautiful home. Since we stayed in hotels last night this was the first time we were properly seeing it.

"I wonder how many people have done it in that hot tub?" Harry said as we walked outside. I turned with a disgusted look on my face. "Ew." "Maybe we should make it one more?" Harry joked. I lightly slapped him on the chest. "I'm to tired." I lent myself into him. "Me too. Plus we have the whole honeymoon to have mind blowing sex." Harry wrapped his arms around me. I chuckled. I'm the happiest I have ever been.

[straycatboogie]

2023/05/18 English

BGM: たま - 夏の前日

Today I worked early. TBH my mother came to my workplace today. I hadn't known about that so got surprised at seeing her there, but I was glad to talk with her after a long time face to face. I remember that yesterday I confessed my story about that mother at the "danshu" meeting. I talked about my sending her a thanksgiving message. And also, about the memory I blamed her as saying "why the f--k did you born me?", or the fact I spent my days as a terrible heavy drinker through a sad relationship with her. Maybe I wished her would die soon. Ah, what a terrible thinking. I could adore dying soon by drinking alcohol too much as a young genius like Kurt Cobain. But anyway I could start quitting alcohol at the age I was 40. It still has continued until now. But it is not possible because of my lonely efforts. I have been, as The Beatles sings, "With a Little Help from My Friends". Thinking like that, the current relationship exactly supports me so much. The connections by others will (or "must") work as a force or medicine. Now I believe so.

I have never built anything in this life completely. Neither any family, nor any child, and my life goes on to its ending. But, although this might be just a quibble, I could have built this myself. Now I can proud of myself well. Of course, I never say I am perfect. I am just a weak, pervert, nameless person in Japan. Indeed, I might be special because I am an autistic person and different from others, but it doesn't mean I am a superhero. But within myself, even though this might sound too proudful, there must be a skill of my English through my 48 years life. Everyday I write my ideas on my memo pad in English, and I also do my diary in English too. Those processes have proceeded my English steadily. Besides it, there are some knowledge or wisdom from the memories of the books I have read, the music I have enjoyed, the experiments I have done as my work. I owe a certain responsibility to myself. I became an adult like this. Indeed, I am never a superman. Then, I say I have a tiny pride to be that kind of ordinary, nameless person.

I got a news that says Shiso International Association will held the English conversation class again. It seems corona panic is exactly ending therefore this kind of activities are possible to be started again. I am glad to hear that. I can remember that these events the Association held have given me really precious, celebrating moments. Today we did an usual meeting at night. A friend worked as a facilitator and showed night sky to enjoy stars in the universe on ZOOM. I rarely enjoy stars or intergalactic in my daily life. He told us that the stars are sending us messages through a really long time span as 10 billion years (meanwhile, our human being's time must be only 100 years). Recently I am enjoying the nature Shiso city provides, and today's meeting told me that watching stars like this will ease our minds certainly. And I felt really thankful for this precious moment of touching the unknown world. I hope I can enjoy the class because I would meet any new person there.

Going to the library, I borrowed Sartre's "Nausea" and Gregory Khezrnejat's "A Clearing". I read "A Clearing", and found it is a work to try to ask about the important issues. How can we go out from our mother tongue? How can we seek for our own roots? In this compact book, he tries to learn Japanese as a minor language for him, or learn Persian his father uses. Those activities consist his identity. The era is developing as a great diversity age, but English is also working as a global language that enables to make this world flatter. But the main character tries to go out or make a distance from any comfort zone of his mother tongue. It also makes me why I am learning English. Of course, we can learn English casually like a fashion or a way of killing time. I believe they can't be prohibited. But I love this compact one because he asks his identity's problem in such a sensitive and honest way.

[obwjam]

thank you thank you thank you for submitting this!!!!!!!! soft gentle peter is the best peter, skdjdkskd i love this so much 🥺🥺🥺🥺❤️ UR THE BEST

———-

New Beginnings

Wrote a FemBorrower!ReaderxReader one shot for obwjam because she amazin, have mercy, I tried here we go. 

1,617 words,

6 minutes and 28 seconds reading time

......................................................................................................................................................

Peter was almost finished helping Mr Delmar un-pack into his new store. He set down the last box and waited for Mr Delmar's further instructions. Suddenly there was a faint growl coming from outside that sounded like Murph (Mr Delmar's cat). Peter knew it would take a while before Delmar would be finished upstairs, so he decided to head out the door to see if Murph was alright.

  You were limping on your way back home, maybe taking the shortcut through the sewers wasn't the best choice. It had been over a month since the accident, where you lost your brother to human carelessness. 

You remember how he talked about this sandwich store that was moving to your old apartment. You knew it wasn't safe roaming out in the open, but ever since the humans living in that apartment moved out, you really needed something to eat.

  You had just arrived at the store. Exhausted, you sat against a wall to take a break from that long walk. You took out a piece of ripped cloth from out of your bag in an attempt to start wiping the blood off your leg. But Suddenly, From the side of the store crept the biggest rat you have ever seen, or at least you thought it was a rat. It had huge pointy ears, You could barely see its eyes because of all that fur, but you knew it was a threat as soon as you heard it hiss at you. 

  You felt your stomach clench, your leg was busted, and you were so exhausted. You really didn't think you could outrun that thing.

“This is it,” you thought as you fixed your eyes on the creature, covering yourself with your arms, braced for impact. 

Just then the huge door of the shop flung open, followed by what looked like a boy.

The cat lifted its paw and went straight for you. Although you were expecting it, you were shocked at the impact. 

  You swallowed your scream, but you couldn't hold in your tears. As soon as the first one escaped, a whole river flowed down your dusty cheeks. 

"shit, shit, shit, fuck, this can't be happening," you whispered as you tried to control yourself. Now wasn't really a great time for panic attacks.

You rubbed your face hastily trying to define your emotions. You pushed yourself up from the wall and prepared to run, you couldn't let another human see you, not again. As you turned your back and started sprinting, the creature's huge paw flung straight for you and pushed you back to the floor. You groaned in pain hoping that this was all just a bad dream. 

Peter bent down to pick up Murph, barely noticing you. “What's wrong Murph,” Peter said as he stroked the Murph's fur. 

"That thing has a name?" You thought as you pushed yourself back up.

The cat turned to you and hissed down at your little form. The human turned its attention down to what or who Murph was hissing at. 

  You stared at the towering human hoping he wouldn't notice you, or just leave you alone. But then again, one look at your bloody ass foot and you decided you were a literal recipe for attention. 

All those late-night stories about how you should be extra careful around them. never take any risks, they'd keep you in a jar on their nightstand for all their friends to see. They wouldn't hesitate to pick you up without your permission. You always thought it was kind of insane the way your brother described them, but once you let that thought slip to your head you started sweating. 

You weren't exactly against human's existence, you just didn't want to deal with them.

It took a few seconds for Peter to comprehend what he was seeing, but as he slowly bent down again and let Murph go, he could make out an actual real-life borrower.

There had been several reports on capturing these little things on camera over the past few years, but Peter never imagined himself actually having an encounter with one. 

She looked so scared. She was covered in dust, dried up bruises and scars. Her ankle looked like it was bent in an unnatural position. That huge scar on her waist looked fresh. Did Murph do this? did she- was she crying?

"H-hey bud, are you ok? you look really torn up"

yeah, no shit sherlock.

You forced yourself to look up at his huge empathetic face. You didn't like how he was looking down at you like you were some weak little shit in desperate need of help. 

You tried to force words out of your mouth, but all that came out were weak whimpers, you felt unsteady, the bright sun behind the human made you feel dizzy.

Peter noticed this and used himself to block the sun. "That's ok you don't have to talk, d-do you maybe want something to eat?" Peter said expecting maybe a nod or anything indicating "yes". But you couldn't even hear him, white dots covered your vision as you grabbed your head trying to stop everything from spinning.

And then you blacked out.

You woke up on a cold smooth surface, you turned your head around trying to adjust your eyes to the light. you felt tired and your stomach felt empty and weak. you sat up slowly rubbing your eyes, suddenly a familiar voice filled the room.  

"Thanks, May, but I'm stuffed!" Peter said with a small laugh as he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

You turned your head towards the noise, and once you set your eyes on the large room and the human you saw from before, you started panicking again. What time is it? Where am I? What the hell is going on.

This time there was no one to save you.

"you're awake," Peter said surprised. "I got u some leftover pizza, figured u might be hungry," Peter said as he strolled across the room towards you. You immediately stood up ignoring your aching leg but fell back down in an instant. 

"WOAH Slow down, that leg's not gonna get any better if you keep putting pressure on it, trust me, I've had experience," Peter said with a small smile. 

He set down a piece of pizza on a folded tissue and carefully slid it towards you. You scooted back a little but once you laid eyes on the piece of food he offered, you thought that maybe it wouldn't hurt to have a little. 

You grabbed the piece of food like you hadn't eaten in days. You were still having your doubts though, like why this human was giving a shit about your wellbeing, but once you took the first bite, you were in heaven. An unforced smile spread across your face for the first time in a while, Peter couldn't help but smile too. He always felt good helping people. 

"Hey is that leg okay?" Peter said as he shifted his gaze down to your bloody ankle. You looked back up at him again. You were a little scared to make converstation. I mean this human could crush you in seconds, but it had been a real long time since you actually talked to someone, so not wanting to make this any harder you cleared your throat and responded. 

"Well, nothing has changed, still hurts like hell," you said with a weak smile. You tried speak as calmly as you could, panic attacks were a real common guest nowadays. Peter frowned, he didn't think anyone like you should suffer like this at such a young age. borrowers have it real hard huh.

"M-My name's Peter by the way," He said scratching the back of his head. "What's your name?" 

You were a little surprised he even cared, "Oh uh, It's y/n". 

"What are you going to do to me?" You said, sounding concerned.

Peter hadn't actually thought of it that way, he only brought you in because you looked like you were in really bad shape, and considering what Murph might have done, he naturally thought he owed you something.

"I- I just wanna help, just until you can get back on your feet again." He stood up and ran across the room to pull out a box from under his bed. He came back with some gauze and wipes. "I-If you'd let me".

You thought it was crazy he even bothered to help you. Still, you weren't sure you wanted to be handled by a human, If he was anything like the other human...

Peter noticed the doubtful look on your face. "I promise I'll be careful," He said almost whispering. You did have nowhere else to go, the dried up blood was starting to make you feel really uncomfortable, and if this human's intentions really were to help you, you're seeing humans in a whole new light. 

you gave a weak nod and sat up straight so Peter could see the cuts. He rubbed the cold wipes gently on your leg. You jumped a little at contact and pressed your lips together, the wipes were a little too cold. But after a few seconds, you could handle it. 

You stared at Peter, it was almost unbelievable how gentle he was. Usually, you would pay attention if someone was wiping your cuts, but something was comforting about Peter. When was the last time you could rely on someone other than yourself?

When he finished, he glanced back down at you. "T-Thanks Peter," you said with a smile. Peter beamed back, he was just happy you trusted him to help out. 

......................................................................................................................................................

still cant believe this piece of shit took me 2 days wow.

[heshoes]

She was his best friend and they shared everything together already anyway. What difference would it make if it were a hat, shampoo, or the same bed sometimes? So what? That's what the Uni Daze were about, having fun, traditions, getting serious, new relationships, friendships, heart ache, break-ups, make ups, secrets, the occasional/casual bajingo here and there, and possibly, just maybe, finding the love of your life and hoping that it all works out.

Warnings: smut, slow burn, angst, mentions of abortion, mentions of verbal abuse

Harry Styles x OC (Face claim Zendaya)

Uni Daze Masterlist

Chapter 1 (Word Count 4k)

Harry

Water droplets cascaded down my neck before I grabbed a towel to throw over my head. That shower was definitely needed. My muscles would be sore from my workout this morning, but I enjoy the ache. As I headed towards my room to put on clothes I noticed that my roommates door was still closed and for Michelle this can only mean one thing.

I pulled up my trousers and pulled my t-shirt over my head before layering it with a plaid button up. If she doesn't wake up soon, I'll be forced to take measures into my own hands. I walked halfway down the hall and then stopped to pick up the beanie that I let Michelle borrow last night. The hat was carelessly tossed on the floor along with a t-shirt of hers and a pink-ish orange lace bra. This was just one of the many downsides of living with a woman. Even if she is your best mate, finding the occasional bras and panties mixed into your clothes on laundry day can put a damper on your chances of trying and talk to a girl if you don’t have a washer and drier in house, and lets not even mention those four to five days out of the month when a tampon box is left on the bathroom sink and you have to explain that to a date. Not thinking, I picked all of the items up before I dropped the shirt and bra on the ground, feeling somewhat awkward touching something that was so close in contact with Michelle's...intimate bits.

"Michelle?!" No answer…

"Mitchell?! Wake up you're gonna be late for our first class!”

I laughed to myself at her lack of response before I sauntered back down the hall to my room grabbing the Ultimate Alarm; a fog horn that Michelle, the lads, and I nabbed from a school footie game. We each have one and have all have organized to use it with each other when the drink has made us more sluggish than functional.

Not much has changed since the first day I met Michelle. She's the only one here that I've met who seems to have stayed the same throughout all the three years of university that I've known her....That can be looked at as both a good and a bad thing.

Shaking the foghorn with devilish delight and biting my cheeks so that I wouldn't blow my cover, my feet stopped in front of her door once again. I cracked the entrance slightly sticking my arm in the room and turning my head away to shield my ears as much as possible from the noise. As soon as I pressed the button to sound it off, I heard a loud thudding sound followed by cursing. If she wasn't up before, she's up now.

"WHAT THE FUCK, HAZLAND?!”

I ran back to my room to put the horn down and grab my bag. This is the first year that I haven't strained my back to pick it up. Fouth year with a lighter load but more studying than I did in all the other three years combined seems pretty backwards to me, but I won't complain.

"What time is it?”

"Half- Oh-“

Michelle emerged from her room looking worse for wear. Her hair was in a nest atop her head and she only wore a long sleeved burgundy t-shirt and a black pair of boy short knickers on her lithe, lanky frame. I  swallowed deeply and turned my head away not expecting her to be so scantily clad. The colors contrasted with her warm honey/caramel skin tone and it was only then that I took in how much of her skin was actually showing. I've seen her naked before but it was an accident and brief. Very brief. I only saw her outlines really, nothing of real importance... not that I was trying to look or anything.

"Half past eight. Go put on trousers! I don't want to see your bajingo!”

Michelle primped her dry lips at me prior to moistening them with a swipe of her tongue, making sure to flip her middle finger up in my direction before she disappeared back into her room.

"Everyone wants to see my bajingo Harry and that's plenty of time for me to get ready. You didn't have to use the Ultimate Alarm. It's not like I was in a drug induced coma!”

"I called you twice but you didn't answer. I thought that-“

I trailed off my words as a gorgeous blonde walked out of Michelle's room. Her hair was tussled and she was scrambling to adjust her skirt as Michelle looked at me with a tightlipped grin, feeling out the room.Michelle walked her secret house guest to the door and gave her a lingering kiss that caused the girl to stand on tip toe before awkwardly waving a goodbye to her and shutting the door. I was left stunned.

"Pick your jaw up off the floor Styles!”

"That- that was a girl.”

“Yes."

"She was your friend?”

“No."

Michelle walked into the kitchen grabbing an orange juice carton out of the refrigerator. She took a sip straight from the jug causing me to grimace before she rolled her eyes at me and grabbed a  red solo cup. I was only momentarily distracted before I continued on my previous trail of thought.

"But, you were...and she…"

"Yes Harry, spit it out come on. You're almost there. I know it. I can feel it”

"She was putting her clothes back on.”

Michelle nodded her head in agreement as she continued to guzzle the rest of our citrusy, pulp free juice. After she finished it, she tossed the empty plastic to me and then walked out of the kitchen. I was right by the bin but set the cup on the countertop as my brain continued to navigate through what I think I want to ask.

"You didn't have on many clothes…"

"No, Harry. Neither of us did last night.”

Michelle folded her arms while squinting at me. The hint she's dropped allows what comes out of my mouth next to be uninhibited and honestly sound a bit too over zealous about the idea.

"You had sex with her?”

Michelle nodded her head up and down grinning slightly. Almost a smug look on her face I would say. She hadn't been in a relationship in a while. The last one I remember was when she was with my best mate Louis. It's how I met her as a matter of fact. Michelle and Louis are virtually the same person. It's freaky sometimes. She could be a reincarnate of him as a girl. They were inseparable, but when it ended it ended badly. I'm still not clear on the reason why. Neither of them will talk about it, but I managed to stay neutral in the whole situation and still be able to carry on a friendship with both of them. I'm still good friends with Lou, but he doesn't come around as much since I moved in with Michelle. Me and her got on so well while her and Louis dated it was hard not to become friends with her as well. Louis moved on and moved in with his bird earlier this year and I haven't really seen Michelle with anyone...Until now.

"So-so, you're a lesbian then?”

"Yes Harry. I've 'switched teams' as they say.”

"Since when?” I was just so shocked.

"Since over the summer...Does it bother you?” Michelle looked down at the ground and scratched the back of her neck as if she were bracing herself if I said it did and to be honest I was slightly offended that she’d think that way of me.

“No… No, I just never saw you with anyone over the summer.”

I could hear a sigh of relief escape Michelle’s lips as she turned to leave the front door.

I could have sworn she only hung out with me and the lads when Louis wasn't around. She hung out with us so much and we'd gotten so comfortable around her that we actually started counting her as one of the guys and calling her 'Mitch' or 'Mitchell' instead of Michelle. She always pretends to get cross with us when we called her that, but she can never keep a straight face long enough for us to believe that she doesn't like it.

"That doesn't mean I wasn't with anyone Harrow." Michelle winked at me and went back into her room coming out ten minutes later in joggers, a t-shirt, and Nike trainers with no backpack, one pencil, and a pen. Very prepared.

"Told you thirty minutes was more than enough time. Come now, Hazland.”

"...That's what she said." I smiled proudly at my own joke while Michelle gave me an unwavering a stale face.

"If I can say anything about growth in these last 4 years of our friendship it would be that you have made the least of it. You are the worst.”

“The pot shouldn’t call the kettle names. I thought it was funny." I grinned at her irritation grabbing all of my things in preparation to start the final year.

"Of course you did. Usually when you think it's funny that means it's not.”

Michelle exited out leaving me to lock the door to our new off campus apartment but I wanted to know more. 

I followed behind her and asked her all types of questions. You can't just spring on people that you've switched sides and not expect them to want to know all of the details. In all honesty it wasn't a big deal as long as she was happy. Perhaps I was just being nosy, but after usually seeing her with mainly men my underlying question to her was probably, "Why?"

"I wasn't having that much luck with guys, Haz. One night I went out for a drink and a girl approached me so I figured, why the hell not? What could it hurt, really? Nothing. I went for it, and I enjoyed myself.”

She didn't have a great track record with guys after her split with Lou. She was so unhappy at one point, but then again when you bring home assholes and expect them to turn into stand up gents tears are to be expected. They always looked like gutter grunge to me but at the moment that seemed to be her type, so I didn't say anything. I've actually spent a lot of nights with Michelle rubbing her back as she cried against my shoulder and handing her the odd Kleenex to substitute for my shirt. Now that I think about it, last summer I really didn't see her with any guys. I guess when I saw her with girls I always assumed they were just her friends.

"So...What's it like?”

"What's what like?”

"You know the, um, the switch...What's it like?" Michelle threw her head back and laughed as we reached the main building for our senior seminar class.

"You mean what's it like going from cock to fanny? Is that what you're asking me?" I raised my eyebrows at her bluntness and I could feel heat rise in my cheeks. There's no beating about the bush with Michelle, not anymore anyway.

"Pretty much, yeah. That's what I'm asking. I’m just being nosy. If it’s too much you don’t have to-“

"Honestly," Michelle shifted her eyes back and forth as if she was going to tell me the secret to life in her next sentence, "It's so much better. Guys have no clue what they're doing down there. It's so refreshing to have someone know exactly what it is that I want, when I want it, and how I want it without explaining myself like I'm a bloody rubix cube. Did you know that there are three holes down there?” She asked me sarcastically as if we weren’t both on track for Med school.

"I resent that! And no…no I didn't know that.” I replied to sarcasm with sarcasm, grinning to myself much like the purple devil emoji. I surely did know all the holes.

"Why is that, Hazland? The resentment issue?”

We took our seats in the half full lecture room at the back of the class as we normally do. Michelle, myself and the rest of the gang have started many an early weekend by sitting in the back of the class, signing the attendance sheet and then leaving when the professors back was turned. I don't think I'll do that this year though. I have too many important tests to take if I want to be a doctor. I mean to pass the UKCAT exam the first time.

"Because I'm not half bad at it. At least I don't think I am... Never got a complaint before and I don't intend to.”

Michelle laughed loudly as the professor walked in, drawing attention our way. I smiled and waved at the onlookers before Michelle chuckled again grabbing my hand to stop me as the professor started to speak.

"Just because you never got a complaint doesn't mean that it wasn't said, Harrow. Nine times out of ten, if you don’t hear a complaint it’s because she cares more about your ego than her orgasm...It’s a shame really.”

I primped my lips at her and we continued to whisper to each other back and forth while we took notes on what the professor wrote on the whiteboard during the lecture. There would be two major papers in this class. Thankfully for the twenty page essay that we'll be assigned to do later on in the quarter we can have a partner. Michelle quickly leaned her head on my shoulder choosing me to work with when the paper isn't even due until the last week of class. I of course accepted her. Not only is she my friend but she's one of those annoyingly clever people. I've honestly never seen Michelle open or purchase one required textbook in all of our three years knowing each other in our university careers, but every time marks are posted her marks are always first class honors.

By the end of class, I ended up giving Michelle a hefty amount of paper for notes in seminar and for the other classes she had throughout the rest of the day. It baffles me as to how she's this born genius, but the most unorganized person that I know at the same time. Her only response to my annoyance was, "At least I have writing utensils.”

"Was that girl this morning your girlfriend?”

"No. I'm an admitting fuckgirl. What’s the saying? If you can’t beat them join them. I refuse to be part of the played group any more. It's our last year after all. I figure it's time to up the ante. Let monogamy go.”

I laughed and shook my head before another question came up. It was always something I wanted to know about lesbians but was too embarrassed to ask. It's not like I have many lesbian friends who I could turn to and get the information that most want to know.  I'm never that embarrassed around Michelle though.

"So, erm, um...who's more dominant, when you're...You know?”

Michelle rolled her eyes at the question and I began to feel like an ass.

"When we're scissoring?" She spoke loudly making my thought about embarrassment wrong.

“Chelle!"

Michelle snickered knowing that she's put a vivid image in my head of her and the mystery blonde. I shake the thought before I get too carried away. I'm not supposed to get aroused with the thought of my best friend and another girl.

"Whoever feels like it whenever they feel like it? It was always a competition with men isn't it?”

“I don’t think it’s so much a competition as it is that some women don't like being on top?” I spoke presenting the idea causing her to pop her lips in disagreement.

“It’s never asked though is it? Sounds like male assumption to me. When I'm with a girl it's just flat out pleasurable for the pair of us. It's not about dominance, Harry. It's about getting off. Scissoring isn't a thing though, by the by.”

I nodded my head up and down still in awe that she of all people had taken a liking to someone who has the same bits as she does. It didnt' bother me like she thought it did earlier and I hope I didn't give her that impression by my line of questioning. Honestly these were just things I always wanted to know. I'm actually more hurt that scissoring apparently isn't a thing...They make it look so pleasurable in porn...I've been bamboozled.

"That's enough questions about me for now. What's happened to you?”

"What do you mean?"

"Harry full offense, but you were a slut when I first met you. You've since depleted in your numbers dramatically, except I'm sure the use of your hand. There were tissues in your bin the other night when I was cleaning the apartment and you don't have a cold…"

"I have h-hay fever Michelle! Allergies kick up at random times... Don't clean my room, I'll do it! It's personal in there. I knew I couldn't find any of my shit for a reason. And hang on-" I knotted my eyebrows playfully at her earlier slut comment.

I admit that I got around, but I moved very slowly. I've only ever had sex with seven or maybe nine girls in my twenty-one years give or take. I don't really keep count. It's not like they were souvenirs or notches on my belt for me to keep track of. All of them were an experience and I'm pretty sure I could name them all if I had to.

The first time happened my last year in 6th form or high school you could say and I didn't even know Michelle then. I got teased for that a bit, but I wasn't in a rush. The maybe other seven or eight happened here at uni but it wasn't as frequent as Michelle makes it out to be. The first two were in my first year when I met Michelle, one of them ended up being my girlfriend over a span of Five months. After that, I only was only ever active with a few more spaced out over the course of two and a half years, and they were regulars. That's not that bad when you think about it, especially for a guy my age at university.

"You were Haz! You had a new girl every weekend.”

"I did not! They were the same few people. They just kind of, alternated? You just never paid them any attention so you thought they were different every time. You're giving me more credit than I deserve." 

Michelle rolled her eyes and continued to tease me.

"Whatever. What's happened then?”

"I don't know what you mean. I got invested in my studies. I have to take the UKCAT this year.”

"When is the last time you fun bit wrestled, willy waggled, played 'hide the helmet', rolled in the hay as they say?" I scrunched my nose and then thought about it and then got frustrated that I had to actually think about it.

“Yet I’m the worst? Who’s this they you speak of?" I asked her, squinting my eyes and tilting my head to the side.

"Everyone says those things when talking about sex. The more mature ones do anyway. Stop dilly dallying and answer the question. When is the last time you put your 'p' in a ‘v'?"

"S-spring? Early spring? Early Spring terms I guess…"

I could feel my cheeks turn red as I answered her question and Michelle bit her cheeks as an odd snorting noise left her nose while she tried to hold in her laughter. It's not that funny.

"You haven't fucked since the spring?" I  laughed more at myself than at the shocked look on her face and shook my head no.

"No, not actual Spring. Early spring terms, so February...My birthday.”

"Harry, we're at the end of August here! You might as well count yourself as celibate. Not that I can blame the girls for dodging you. You still call a vagina a bajingo.”

I chuckled before I spoke, "The word vagina is honestly just as bad as bajingo. And this is coming from someone who has over a hundred words and phrases for sex.”

"A hundred and counting, Harrow.”

I shrugged my shoulders and tried to make the red in my cheeks less noticeable by rubbing my hand over my face. Spring term is when I decided to get more focused. I threw myself into clubs and my books to try to get more into school and buckle down. I'm even president of our graduating class now, prepared to serve on the Alumni council after graduation and I for one am proud of myself for getting this far. The greater half of my first three years here at university was spent at frat parties and in my bed sleeping class time away. I barely know how I made it through this far with decent grades, but I'm grateful that I did. Failure isn't an option.

Michelle stood on tip toe, leaning her head on my shoulder all the while soothingly rubbing my back. When I turned my head to face her, she batted her long lashes at me and made her big brown eyes look like one of those odd cartoon characters whose eyes cover more than half of their face.

"It's okay, Harry.”

"What is?”

"That you haven't gotten any pussy in over six months." Michelle has officially taken a back seat and let Mitchell take the wheel. This is how she got the nickname in the first place.

"Sod off Mitch! It's not like it's a bad thing-“

"Like shit it isn’t."

"I'm busy anyway.”

"With your hand and those bin tissues." I nudged Michelle off my shoulder feigning to be fed up with her masturbation jokes.

"Well if you weren't in my room you wouldn't have seen them! Gosh, you do something one time and then that's what people automatically associate you with!”

Michelle lets out another awkward snort that causes both of us to laugh out loud as we walk through the halls preparing to go our separate ways for the rest of the day.

"That was actually kind of funny Harry. Your jokes are getting a bit better.”

"Yeah, I know. They're funny when they're at my expense.”

"Aw, Hazland. You poor, poor serial masturbator. I'll see you later, yeah?”

"Yeah," I grinned at her before I turned to leave.

"Wait, how much later?” Michelle walked back towards me with one eyebrow raised to the sky as I tried to quickly map out my schedule for the day in my head before spitting it out to her.

"Uh, I get done with classes at half five, then I have a class meeting at six, and then I work at the first year halls front desk from seven to eleven thirty tonight. So I'll probably get home around midnight."

I contently sighed and grinned at Michelle as a look of pure horror took place of her once relaxed features. Her eyes seemed to widen larger after every additional activity that I listed, but I truly enjoyed remaining busy. Michelle's face remained contorted with displeasure before she spoke.

"So you're still coming to the pub later with the lads right?”

"Uh-oh. Chelle I don't know. I kind of forgot all about that. I don't think I will though, it's Monday and-“

"Ah, ah, ah, I'm not taking no as an answer. You promised and it's welcome week anyway. The pub is gonna be live! Just swing by and have one drink.”

“Nahhh I think I’m gonna-”

"One drink.”

“Sit this one out.”

"One drink, Harrow. One. Come on its tradition. You can't just bum out on tradition. This is our last year." She held up her tiny pointer finger to emphasize her point before she spoke again, this time in a small whisper, “One."

“No."

“Please?"

“No."

“Please?” Her lips pouted and her eyes turned sad trying her hand at manipulation.

"No, Chelle. No. Stop looking at me that way...Oh! Gah! Fine. I'll head to the pub when I get off work. One drink. One.”

Michelle bounced on her feet and clapped her hands in excitement making me shake my head before I turned to leave. Before I could make a real step Michelle called my name again.

"Hey, do you think I could borrow a pen? I seemed to have dropped mine."

[featherymalignancy]

How About a Hug, Hm? REMIX

So a few days ago I got this ask about my Elriel one-shot “How About A Hug?” because I messed up the formatting and I you basically have to to read it as a reblog. I also was really unsatisfied with the end result.

So, I did the most Feathery™️ thing every and REWROTE THE WHOLE GODDAMN THING.

Please enjoy, and know that I will go back and tag people/clean up formatting tomorrow. Right now I just need to post and 😴

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Elain Archeron was running late.

Granted, it was only by seven minutes, which—in many social circles—was still considered well within the accepted boundaries of punctuality.

The problem was that a) being late made Elain anxious, and b) there was absolutely nothing polite about Nesta Archeron when she was made to wait, even by her own kin.

Yet another reason it had been critical that Elain arrive on time: Nesta was already likely to be somewhat hacked off when she saw what Elain was wearing tonight, and Elain had hoped to avoid any further dramatics on her elder sister’s part.

She spent half the cab ride downtown trying to convince herself that it was fine that she’d borrowed something out of Nesta’s closet (even if it had been without permission) and that she hadn’t had a choice; she simply didn’t own anything appropriate for dinner at a four-star restaurant. However, by the time the cab slithered under Trump Tower’s unsavory shadow and into Hell’s Kitchen, she’d given up pretending.

The truth was she had half a dozen cocktail dresses that would have been perfectly suitable for dinner in the West Village, even if the place they were going was one of the nicest sushi restaurants in the city. No, Elain had raided Nesta’s closet for a far more embarrassing reason: she’d been in search of a dress she hoped might finally win her Azriel’s attention.

She wasn’t proud of the absurd crush she had on the guy, but it really couldn’t be helped. He was gorgeous, and smart, and darkly funny when he wanted to be, and she’d been secretly mooning over him since they’d met through Feyre’s fiancée three years ago. God, what she wouldn’t give to have him return even a fraction of her feelings.

Apparently not her dignity, Elain thought with a glance down at her neckline.

The worst part was that Azriel seemed oblivious to her interest in him. He was always polite to her, always made a point to talk to her when he caught her hiding out on the balcony during one of Feyre and Rhys’s crazy parties or sit next to her at their big family dinners, but he’d never once given her any indication that he was in any way that he reciprocated her feelings, which should have been reason enough for Elain to pack it in and stop harassing him.

And that was to say nothing of Mor.

Mor was the friend who’d first introduced Feyre and Rhys, and from what Elain could gather, she and Azriel had a long and complicated history. It didn’t seem to matter that Mor had been dating the same girl for over a year now. When she was in the room, Az’s eyes were always on her. Not that Elain blamed him—Mor was gorgeous in a way girls like her could only dream of being. Still, there was no denying the sting of watching the guy you were interested in pine over someone else.

Given all this, Elain wasn’t really sure why she’d gone to such lengths to dress up for this dinner. Mor would surely be there wearing something incredible and couture, thereby rendering everyone else invisible to Azriel. Still, Elain was a hopeless optimist, and she’d stubbornly sold herself on the idea that if she found the perfect dress, she could finally convince Azriel that she was a woman worthy of affection, rather than Nesta’s bookish, boring little sister.

She had to admit, there was nothing bookish about her tonight. The dress was tighter on her that it was her waifish sister, and dear god it deserved a Medal of Honor for the way it managed to keep her boobs looking so perky even without a bra. She didn’t suppose Nesta would be too happy about that bit, either, so she could only hope her sister was in a good mood by the time Elain arrived.

Just then Elain’s phone buzzed, and she looked down at it and groaned. It was from Nesta.

Where the 🤬 are you?

Running late, Elain quickly typed back. Is everyone waiting?

She watched the gray ellipsis pulse at Nesta responded.

Feyre and Rhys aren’t even fucking here yet. But hurry up, Cash is already driving me insane.

Elain rolled her eyes. She wasn’t sure who Nesta thought she was fooling when she and Elain shared a bedroom wall. Nesta and Cassian, Rhys’s other best friend, ended up banging almost every time they saw each other, which—since Rhys and Feyre had gotten engaged four months ago—was fairly frequently. In fact, Cash was at their apartment making Nesta scream so often that Elain had been forced to invest in earplugs and a sound machine. From Elain’s perspective, it seemed rather pointless of Nesta to pretend she wasn’t completely hot of a guy she called “Daddy” in bed.

Elain shuddered at the thought, hoping that Nesta would end up going to Cash and Az’s loft in Williamsburg tonight instead. Though, she realized glumly, they only ever seemed to go there when Azriel was out, and the only person who seemed able to keep Azriel out later than Cash was Mor. That meant Elain’s options were either to pop an Ambien and hope for the best, or stay out and watch Az make moon eyes at Mor all night. Neither one was particularly appearing.

Elain ignored Nesta’s text as the car pulled up outside the restaurant and she wiggled out, smoothing the back of her tight dress before giving her curls what she hoped was an artful tousle before slipping inside.

Elain’s heart felt into her stomach as she took in the elegant but understated interior of the famed Sushi Nakazawa. Given the prices, she’d assumed the place would be all black granite and swanky chandeliers—the kind of place cleavage like hers wouldn’t seem out of place. Instead the place was elegantly spare and distressingly well-lit. God, she was such a prize idiot.

Unfortunately, she was also out of time, because a quick survey of the interior found that her group was already gathered at the bar, Mor, Feyre, and Rhys having showed up in the interim between Nesta’s text and Elain’s arrival.

Elain’s eyes went to Mor first, who stunned in a cardinal red lace and net sheath. It clung to her frame like it had been made for her, and despite a latent jealous she couldn’t quite contain, she was relieved to find that she at least wouldn’t look overdressed.

Elain’s stomach only wended in a tighter knot when Mor’s eyes fell on her and lit up, a reminder that not only was Mor prettier, she was also an infinitely better person than Elain.

“There she is!” Mor beamed, coming forward and hugging Elain. “I love that dress, Ellie!”

Elain braced herself for Nesta’s inevitably remark, but it was actually Cash who reacted first.

He’d opened his mouth to comment seemingly before he’d actually looked at Elain, because the second he realized what exactly she was wearing, his eyes they snapped the ceiling, as if looking at her chest directly might turn him to stone.

“Whoa, El, all dressed up tonight!”

Nesta, wholly unmoved by his attempted chivalry, elbowed him in the ribs.

“Don’t be vulgar Cassian!” She snarled before narrowing her eyes. “And that’s mine!”

Cash smirked, seeming more at ease now that Nesta was his target.

“I knew I’d seen that bef—ow! Goddamnit woman, what was that for?”

He scowled down at the dangerous stiletto Nesta had just jammed into his toe box.

“Sorry,” she cast over her shoulder, not deigning to look at him. “Did I accidentally step on your foot?”

“I’m an adult,” Elain interjected, cheeks burning as she faced her sister down. “Stop acting like I’ve fourteen and stuffing my bra.”

“They’re just boobs, Nes,” Rhys added, arm slung over Feyre’s shoulder. “Relax.”

“Watch it,” Nesta warned him, but Feyre only laughed.

“I agree!” She said, turning to smile at Elain. “And I think they look amazing.”

“If I’d have known they were going to be such a topic of conversation,” Elain mumbled, grateful Azriel wasn’t here to witness this circus. “I would have worn something else.”

“No, I’m with Feyre,” Mor said, wicked grin forming. “Breasts that nice deserve to be shown off.”

Elain wasn’t so humble that she didn’t feel herself preening a bit at that comment, even if she was still flustered by the prolonged attention. Either way, she was grateful when Cash interrupted with a somewhat sheepish laugh.

“Teenage me would be furious if he heard me say this, but can we please stop talking about boobs?”

“Elain’s boobs or just any boobs?” Feyre said with a smirk.

However, before Elain could admonish her for it, Feyre was crushing her into a hug.

“Hey you,” she said, wrapping her arms and Elain’s neck and whispering in her ear, “let me and Rhys know if you wanna stay at our place tonight; Cash already grabbed Nesta’s ass twice when she thought we weren’t looking.”

Feyre indicated the mirror behind the bar with her eyes as they pulled away, and sure enough, Elain watched Cash’s hand as it drew lazy, dangerous circles just above the swell of Nesta’s well-formed behind.

Elain groaned, hugging Rhys now as well. God , her sister was such a hypocrite sometimes.

Ignoring a lingering twinge of annoyance, Elain forced herself to glance in false realization before casually asking, “So where’s the Birthday Boy?”

“He was on his phone out back,” Rhys said, before raising a hand in greeting to someone over Elain’s shoulder. “There he is.”

Elain tried not to look to eager as she turned and drank in all six feet four inches of perfection that was Azriel Macar. He was dressed all in black, from his prada boots to the soft, expensive t-shirt fitted enough to show off his toned physique. Elain honestly had to fight not to swoon as he ran an effortless hand through his glossy sable hair, the longer pomaded pieces on top stand up for a second before falling into an artful tousle.

“Hey Ellie,” he said, gaze on her and gone so quickly that he never even had time to notice her much-discussed cleavage. Instead, his eyes flicked to Mor and held for a long, meaningful beat before he turned back to Elain and added politely, “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure,” she chirped, trying to ignore the fact that he was coming closer, and that in another second she’d be able to smell that divine Givenchy cologne he always wore. “Of course!“

She bent her head, pretending to be fixing the clasp on her bracelet as his scent hit her and she had to bite back a groan. Sweet Jesus, he smelled good. When she looked up again, everyone else was shuffling to their table and Azriel was lingering, a soft smile threatening to the reveal the absolutely devastating dimples in both his cheeks.

“Do I get a hug?” He asked. “It is my birthday after all.”

He extended his arms, and she gave a nervous laugh, accepting the gesture by stringing her arms around his neck.

“Of course,” she repeated stupidly, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he embraced her. “Happy Birthday.”

At this he squeezed her a little tighter and she fought off genuine giddiness.

It was a friendly gesture, she warned herself, and it ended the minute Mor called, “Az, come sit by me.”

Elain cleared her throat as he pulled away, turning to where Mor was still beckoning. However, before Elain could get too flustered, he turned back to her.

“Shall we?” he said, indicating Elain go ahead of him. To her delight, they reached the table to find that the only two seats left were next to each other. She tried not to give her eagerness too much leash as he pulled out her chair for her before sinking into the one between she and Mor. Mor leaned over to give him a soft peck on the cheek, and he flushed.

“Where’s Emmy tonight?” Feyre asked as Mor tried to wipe the lipstick from Az’s copper skin and he battered her away, like child trying to fend off an over-bearing mother.

“She’s sick, poor little thing,” Mor said, giving a tiny pout. “She hasn’t been able to get out of bed in days.”

Elain didn’t bother to her disappointment. Emerie had been one of Nesta’s best since they’d met in college almost ten years ago, and she not only was she like family to the Archerons, she also happened to be the only person in the group who knew about Elain’s crush. Elain had sworn her to secrecy at the time, and though it would have been reasonable to assume that once Emmy knew, Mor would know, Elain appreciated that she could trust Emerie to keep her secret.

Elain felt Emerie’s absence keenly and Nesta and Cash began bantering back and forth at lightning speed. Emerie was a master at slowing the tempo of Nesta’s quick wit, making it easier for Elain in particular to feel she could keep up.

More selfishly, Elain also missed Emerie’s ability to keep Mor distracted. When Emmy was around, she was all Mor could focus on. However, in her absence Mor’s attention had reverted almost completely to Az, a fact he didn’t seemed to mind a single bit, if his growing smiles were any indication.

Still, he seemed to be going out of his way to make sure Elain didn’t get lost in the chaos of conversation surging around them, even if he never looked at her for more than a moment or two before his eyes flicked back to Mor, studying her dark brown eyes and crimson lips.

After they placed their drink orders and the waiter came over to begin explaining the omakase menu, Elain wondered if she had time to dodge under the table to throw on some lipstick of her own. Assuring herself everyone was suitably distracted she bent down, hastily uncapping the tube before looking up just in time to see Nesta brush a very deliberate hand between Cassian’s splayed quads.

Elain jerked back, banging her head on the table.

“Fuck!” she swore quietly, straightening and rubbing her head.

Nesta shot her an alarmed look across the table and Elain flushed.

“All you alright?” Azriel asked, and she tried not to bleat in excited panic as his fingers brushed the back of her head. “What happened?”

“I—dropped something,” she fumbled, cursing her sister for being such a salacious wench.

Wasn’t it enough that she and Cash were already going to keep her up all night? Did she really have to make Elain look silly in front of Azriel, too?

“Does it hurt?” Azriel said, still studying her head before letting his eyes go to the server. “Do you need ice?”

“No, no,” Elain said hurriedly, trying to regain her composure. “I’m fine.”

“Did you at least find whatever you were looking for?” Mor asked, and Elain’s flush deepened.

“And then some,” she grumbled to herself, and Cassian gave a quiet but unmistakable laugh before letting out a surprised exhale. Elain had a fairly good idea what Nesta was squeezing to shut him up.

“Should we order, then?” Mor asked, hand falling onto Azriel’s arm. “Any particular requests, Birthday Boy?”

“He’s thirty now,” Rhys pointed out. “I think that makes him a Birthday Man .”

“Birthday Old Man,” Cassian amended. “Don’t worry champ, I’ve already put some viagra in your bathroom.”

“You’re not supposed to share your prescriptions, Cash,” Azriel said with mirth, eyes sparkling even as his face remained neutral. “And besides, I would feel dead back if you needed one tonight and couldn’t find them.”

“Checkmate,” Mor purred as Cash flipped her off.

Beside Azriel, Elain was fighting not to blush again. Cash’s comment, however sophomoric and lewd, had her imagining what Azriel was like in bed. She wondered for a moment if Mor knew before dismissing the thought and the twinge it induced.

“Let’s put this poor souls out of his misery and order,” Feyre said, smiling at the server where he still waited patiently. “Maybe if Cash’s mouth is full, he’ll stop talking.”

Cassian grinned, and, after placing their requests for the chef’s tasting menu, they all settled into an easy conversation. Cash and Rhys regaled them with stories of Azriel at various ages, from the gawky child he’d been when they’d first met him to the shy teenager who’d been terrified of girls.

“Let him be,” Mor said, touching her friend’s shoulder. “He was sweet in high school!”

Rhys laughed.

“It took him a year to pluck up the courage to say three words to you,” he pointed out.

“And they were ‘here’s a pen’ in response to you asking him the time. Nice work, Shakespeare,” Cash said, attempting to muss Azriel’s perfectly styled hair before being batted away.

“I can’t imagine Az ever being awkward,” Elain blurted. “I bet girls thought he was mysterious and cool.“

“See?” Azriel said, gesturing to Elain. “This is why I sat over here.”

“Oh please ,” Rhys said, bubbling his lips. “Ellie’s just being polite. If you two had known each other in high school, we all know how to would’ve gone: you’d have had an obscene crush on her and your dreams of true love would have been dashed after she politely signed your yearbook ‘have a good summer, Adrian’, leaving you heartbroken and alone.”

Azriel gave Elain a soft smile, and her heart burst open as thousands of butterflies flitted out of it.

“I hate to say it, but he’s probably right,” he told her. “I assume high school Elain was very popular.”

“She was,” Feyre said. “Eight different guys asked her to prom.”

“I’m not surprised,” Az said, and Elain made a great show out of drinking out of her masu to avoid having to answer.

She was relieved when the food began arriving to distract everyone, if only to save her the temptation of telling Azriel that there was no universe in which she wouldn’t have been into him, high schoolers or no.

Instead discussion turned to the Feyre and Rhys’s wedding as they ate, and as final plates were being cleared, Cash took the opportunity to once again mocked Azriel for the fact the latter had lost the rock-paper-scissors competition to be Rhys’s best man.

“I lost on purpose,” he told Elain quietly, taking a sip of the Yamasaki Single Malt he’d ordered after dinner.

“Why?” she laughed, following his gaze across the table to where Cash and Nesta were now bickering about whether Rhys’s stag night in Vegas would be better than Feyre’s hen do in Napa.

“Because Rhys told me that you’d convinced Feyre to pick Nesta as her maid of honor, and no offense, but your sister terrifies me. I’d much rather be with you.”

She laughed, biting her lip. It felt so terribly like they were flirting, but she couldn’t decide if it was her imagination or not.

“She terrifies everyone,” Elain said. “And I have a feeling this won’t our last trip down the aisle together.”

Azriel only quirked a bemused brow at this, which had Elain flushing scarlet.

“Not like that! She laughed, fumbling to pretend the idea of them being together was absurd rather than her heart’s desire. "I meant for Cash and Nesta’s wedding. Don’t tell me those two aren’t going to end up together.”

“We’ll have to work out a custody agreement when they finally get over themselves and start dating properly,” he agreed. “I’m spending a fortune on earplugs.”

She laughed, and he seemed warmed by the gesture, because he flashed a modest—albeit dimpled—smile being turning back to the larger conversation.

After dinner they’d gone a cocktail bar, then an Irish pub, and finally—much to Azriel’s chagrin—a karaoke bar. Rhys and Cash spend the majority of the evening trying to wrestle Azriel on stage while Mor and Feyre sang duets to Beyoncé and Spice Girls.

Elain was content enough to sit back and simply observe the scene as it unfolded around her. It was hard to contain her giddy, dreadful anticipation when Mor left around one to check on Emerie and Azriel—besides bidding her farewell with a soft kiss on the cheek—didn’t move a muscle.

Less than an hour later, Cash and Nesta both disappeared about an hour after without so much as a goodbye. Elain groaned, hoping they’d be asleep by the time she got home.

She’d have to rally if she wanted to manage it; they would be at it for hours yet.

By three the place was clearing out, and besides them, only a few tables of marathon drinkers and a girl on stage performing a beautiful rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” remained.

“We’re gonna go,” Rhys said, arm slung around a rather drunk, giggling Feyre. “Ellie, do you want to come with us?”

Elain glanced at Azriel, who’s glass still had two fingers of whiskey in it. If she wanted a chance to be alone with him, this was it.

“I think I’ve got one more in me,” she said, smiling.

“If you mean drink, I’m in,” Azriel said.

“Oh c’mon, brother,” Rhys goaded. “Just one song. I wouldn’t even film it….much.”

“Do Beyoncé!” Feyre chimed in, and Azriel shook his head.

“You know I’d play in traffic before I ever sang karaoke,” Azriel said mildly, making Feyre laugh. "Thanks for coming.”

He rose, embracing Rhys and pressing a kiss on Feyre’s head.

“C’mon, my little drunkard,” Rhys told her. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Let’s have sex when we get home,” Feyre said, her attempted whisper fully audible. Rhys pretended smack his forehead with his palm and a mimed, “ Oh brother ”, to Azriel and Elain before coax a still-singing Feyre outside.

Azriel chuckled before draining the last of his drink and rising. Elain pretended not to notice the way his well-tailored jeans fit his lean legs and…other parts of his anatomy as he adjusted his belt buckle and glanced down at her.

“Bud Light?” he asked, and she nodded, bobbing to her feet as well.

If she wanted a way to get closer to him that was more elegant than her increasing urge to crawl across the table and into his lap, this was certainly it.

“I’ll come with you.”

He flashed her a modest smile before indicating she lead the way. He ordered and waved off Elain’s attempt to pay before leaning on the bar to avoid towering over her. The gesture brought them nearly eye-to-eye, and Elain had to actively fight not to let hers roll back in pleasure at the bergamot and amyris wood notes in his sinful cologne. Up close Elain could see how much green he had in his hazel irises, and she wanted to tip into them and swim until she drowned.

“Did you have fun?” she said, desperate to get the conversation flowing again, and he smiled, making her stomach flop.

“I did, yeah,” he said, glancing around the bar in bemusement, as if still wondering how he’d ended up there. “Thank you for coming.”

Elain shrugged, grinning.

“You say that like you didn’t think I’d show,” she said, resting a cheek in her hand. She knew by now her expression was not her less than a swoon, though she couldn’t bring herself to care.

Hadn’t been this been her plan all along? Finally get Az’s attention long enough to tell him how she felt? Now was the best chance she’d probably ever get.

“No, I figured would,” Az said, interrupting her reverie. “Or hoped you would, whatever.”

Was that—

Did that mean what she thought it did?

Normally she would have chalked it up to wishful thinking, but the way he rubbed the back of his neck, dimples appearing as he huffed what almost sound like a sheepish laugh, had hope igniting in her chest.

“What does that mean?” she pressed, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

For the first time all night, he didn’t look away. Instead, his eyes skated back and forth across her face, as if she were a riddle he only had seconds to memorize. She watched, transfixed, as he wet his plush lower lip with his tongue before biting it almost self-consciously.

“It means I’m glad you came,” he admitted. “And that you didn’t go home with your sister and Rhys.”

It wasn’t the confirmation she’d been hoping for, and the ambiguity of the statement had her conviction waning. That could just as easily have been mean platonically, and if she pushed him and ruined things between them by making it awkward—

“Of course I’d be here for your birthday,” she said, giving his shoulder a playful shove. “That’s what friends are for.”

She couldn’t help the way her voice got stuck on the word, not when her throat suddenly began to clog with tears.

She had to get out of here, right now. Before she started crying and made things worse. She made to retract her hand but Azriel grabbed it, grip gentle but intent.

“El, don’t go,” he said, and she was surprised at the frank discontent in his normally-impassive expression.

She waited for him to explain himself before instead he let out another strained laugh, grip on her wrist easing. However, he didn’t let go entirely, choosing to intertwine their fingers instead.

Holding hands.

She and Az were holding hands.

And he—

She glanced back up to find he was studying her again, his face a mixture of terror and delight. When she gave his hand a soft squeeze, he let out the breath he’d been holding.

“Jesus, I am bad at this,” he said, reaching up to tuck a curl behind her ear. She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined it, but she thought his gaze flicked down to her lips as he continued to study her with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Bad at what?” She asked, though she’d begun to suspect she knew exactly what, even if it seemed too good to be true.

“At least my timeline is improving,” he breathed instead. “And I haven’t offered you a pen you didn’t ask for yet.”

Hoping she wasn’t misreading the situation, she let her finger trail down to trace the circular buckle of his Gucci before glancing back up at him and purring, “Do you have a pen?”

He smirked before raising his right wrist and glancing at his watch face over her shoulder.

“It’s….3:17 am,” he said, smile spreading as she gave a low sound of approval and flicked her gaze to his lips.

“Smooth,” she said, and tried not to lose her mind as he let his raised hand fall to the back of her neck and bent to kiss her.

He had almost girlishly full lips, and they opened for her as they settled into the kiss. Immediately his hand tangled in her hair so he could alter her head position slightly and get a proper taste of her. She groaned into his mouth he pulled at her lower lip with his teeth. He tasted like oranges and the expensive Japanese whiskey he’d been drinking all night, and pleasure tightened in her low belly as his tongue brushed hers. Her brought his free hand up to cradle her face, and in response she pushed closer to run her hands underneath of his shirt and down the silken skin of his back.

“Fuck,” he breathed with a heated half-laugh, nose brushing her cheek as he bowed into her touch. “You’re killing me, woman.”

She only smirked, feeling more confident now that she had before. She could hardly believe this was happening, but she was too excited about it to fully care.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, and he bit his lip, as if restraining himself from kissing her again.

“Like to another bar?” he asked, dazed as he continued to stare at her lips.

“Like to my bed,” she said boldly. “Or yours, depending on where Cassian and Nesta ended up.”

He didn’t speak immediately, just studied her, and she panicked.

“I mean, only if you—I’m sorry, should I not have—?“

He only kissed her again in response, more gently this time.

“Please stop apologizing,” he said, kissing her jaw now before seeming to realize something and pulling back, brows synced.

“I—Jesus, do you seriously not know?”

She felt a bit sheepish at his incredulous tone and fought not to stiffen.

“Know what?”

He laughed softly, though their was a edge of self-deprecation in it that kept the gesture from seeming conscending.

“I really am the worst at this.”

“At what?”

“El, I’ll crazy about you. I have been crazy about you since we met.”

“You have?” she blurted, horror fading into genuine—if elated—confusion.

He laughed.

“Did you think it was coincidence that you and I are always sitting next to each other at dinner? That I always find you at Rhys’s dumb parties?”

“I—“ she began, still trying to decide if this was a dream or not. “What about Mor, though?”

“Mor?” he repeated, confused now, too. “What about her?”

“I thought you and she—“

He leaned in to brush his nose against hers, and she blushed at the innocent affection in the gesture.

“Not at all,” he assured her. “I did have a thing for her in high school, but I got over it after she and Cash slept together at prom. We’re just friends, I swear.”

“But she’s always touching you, and every time I see you together you can’t stop looking at her.”

At this he laughed, his smile so genuine and open she almost didn’t recognize him.

“She’s always been touchy-feely,” he said. “She grew up in Madrid, and people are just more affectionate there, I guess. And I only watch her when you’re around because she called me out for having an absurd crush on you, and I was afraid she was going to get drunk and blow my cover by telling you.”

Elain shook her head, still not quite believing what she was hearing. Reading her expression, he bent to kiss her softly.

“What guy wouldn’t be crazy about you?” he breathed. “You’re incredible.”

This seemed to break the spell, and she twined her fingers in his hair and pulled him down for another steamy kiss.

“Text Cash,” she said a little breathlessly when they broke away. “I don’t want an audience.”

She couldn’t felt but feeling smug when he almost dropped his phone at those words. It felt good to know that she wasn’t the only one affected by all this.

“Cash and Nesta are at the lof—“ Az began after a minute, but Elain cut him off with a kiss.

H rose, pulling her against him as his tongue brushed the roof of her mouth.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he said as she kissed his neck and tugged on his earlobe with her teeth, earning a low groan. “You’ve been drinking.”

She grabbed his chin so he would look at her.

“Not that much,” she said, and it was true. “And besides, I wanted this way before tonight.“

“Good,” he breathed, pressing a hand to her low back to bring her close to him. “Because so have I.”

Though they spent the majority of the ride up town and the elevator up to her apartment making out, something seemed to shift as Elain’s door clicked shut behind him, as if the gravity of what they were about to do had finally caught up to them.

Reluctantly Az peeled his lips from where they’d been glued to her neck as he took a small step back, as if to give her space.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, feeling embarrassed for how much she still wanted him even now that he seemed to have come to his senses.

“Maybe we should—” he broke off, looking somewhat guilty. “Hold off.”

She nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay again.

“Are you worried this could mess things up in the group? Because I understand—“

“No,” he said hurriedly, coming forward again, as if he could no longer stand to be away. “Not at all. I just—you’re special, El. You deserve to be taken out and spoiled.”

“Az, you just took us to a $1,800 dinner! Or did you think I didn’t see you pulling our server aside?”

Azriel opened his mouth, and she covered it with a finger.

“You don’t need to earn my affection. It’s yours already, free of charge.”

“I’ve just been—I waited so long to make my move and I’m terrified of fucking it up,” he said with a soft laugh.

“Why, are you bad at sex?”

Azriel laughed, seemed to relax at her teasing.

“I’ve never had any complaints,” he breathed again her lips, kissing her deeply again.

She gently bit his lower lip in response.

“Then I’d say you’ve gotten nothing to worry about,” she said, kissing him a third time.

She moaned softly when drove his fingers into her hair, hips canting towards her as he pressed her more fully into the door.

She could feel his body’s reaction to her pressing between her thighs, and she moaned again.

“Fuck,” he breathed onto her skin. “You are so gorgeous.”

“So are you,” she said, running her hands up the back of his t-shirt and feeling the mosaic of muscles flexing underneath. “Take this off.”

He laughed and pulled the offending garment over his head, making her groan in delight.

“God, this body ,” she breathed, running a hand down his chest and enjoying his shiver at her delicate touch.

He responded by spinning her away from him and gently dragging down the zipper of her dress until he could slip a hand inside of it.

“I knew you couldn’t have a bra on underneath this thing,” he said, voice a touch smug as he cupped both bare breasts and her breath caught in her throat..

“I’m surprised you even noticed,” she said, voice somewhat. “I wore this dress for you, and you didn’t even look at it once the entire evening.”

She laughed, the sound into a soft moan as he twisted one nipple in experimentation. When she sighed and let her head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Of course I noticed the dress,” he corrected. “You have the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen. I just knew that if I let myself look, I might not be able to stop looking.”

“You shouldn’t say that until you’ve seen them without the sorcery of underwire,” she said.

With that he spun her to face him, catching her gaze to ensure he had her permission before tugging down the top of the dress so her breasts fell free.

“Gorgeous,” he said, easing to his knees so he could replace his fingers with his mouth. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

“If I known this was going to be your reaction, I would have worn a bodycon dress in front of you ages ago,” she said, threading her hands through his hair as he dragged his teeth and tongue along her nipple.

“You don’t need some tight dress to be sexy,” he said, resting his chin her her sternum so he could gaze up at her. “I’d take you in your overalls and pigtail braids any day.”

“Is this some Pippy Longstocking fetish we should all know about?”

He grinned, rising to his feet and giving one of her curls a playful tug.

“Because as devastating as you are playing dress up in your sister’s clothes, I prefer you as you.”

“You can’t say that when I’m naked,” she said with a smile, touching his cheek.

“Why not?”

“Because I may start crying and ruin the mood.”

He cocked his head to the side, tracing her lips with a finger.

“I wouldn’t mind a few tears from you in bed. But only if it’s from you sobbing in pleasure.”

His words sent blood pooling south, the intensity cause a dull throbbing.

“Why do I feel like you could do it, too?” She asked, reaching down to free his belt as he heeled out of his boots.

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, taking her hand and guiding it between his legs. “Forget this,” he said, squeezing gently so she could feel how hard he was. “I could go down on your all night and be the happiest guy on Earth.”

Emerie had said as much once, at a drunken girls’ night.

Azriel strikes me as the type of guy who loves eating girls out. It’s why gay women find him so easy to befriend; we recognize kindred spirit.

Elain vowed to never tell the others she’d been right.

“Will you let me?” He asked, gently nudging her dressing off her hips until it came free and pooled at her feet.

“Is this a trick question?” She said, voice going hoarse as he slipping a hand into her underwear.

“Some people don’t like it.”

“I’m not one of them,” she said, he smiled, coaxing her legs around his waist so he could carry her.

“Thank God,” he replayed. “That would break my heart. Which way?”

She pointed him in the right direction before giving into temptation and kissing him again, looking to way she could feel like body reacting to hers as he held her close. Only when they reached her room—which was decidedly messier than she’d have liked considering Azriel Macar was now in it—did he set her down.

He wasted no time into coaxing her onto the bed, taking only a moment to admire the silky black thong she wore before dragging into down her thighs and discarding it.

“Spread your legs for me, El,” he said, brushing kisses to her knee as she slowly did as he commanded.

The light from the nearby street lamp made the room a lot less dark than Elain was used to during sex, and for a moment she though to be embarrassed or postpone. Then she glanced down to admire the contrast of Azriel’s inky black hair framed against the pale skin of her thighs, and she forgot what it even meant to be self-conscious as he finally put him mouth on her.

She swore at the first brush of his tongue, which was both deliberate and extremely delicate. She threaded a hand through his hair at his second stroke, the touch more intentional this time.

“Azriel,” she breathed.

She watched the muscles in his beautiful back shift at this, as if hearing her moan his name had untethered something in him. When he put his mouth back on her, it was clear he was no longer attempted to tease her. Instead he felt right to where she needed him most, refusing to relent until she tipped over the edge.

Even then he didn’t seem satisfied, it and it was only after he made her come a second time did he pull back, licking his lips before bending to kiss her.

“Take your pants off,” she demanded. "Right now.”

She felt him grinning against her neck as he peeled off of her, slowly working the buttons of his pants before sliding them down his trim hips. He wore black boxer briefs underneath, and he honestly looked like an Armani model. She bit her lip, eying the sizable swell of him through the cotton.

“Those too,” she breathed, greedily drinking in his well-defined adonis belt and the bare trace of hair above the band.

He did as she commanded, and she nearly melted. Naked he was a God, all rippling muscles and smooth unblemished skin, save for the chest piece tattoo that extended onto his shoulders and halfway down his arms. She let her eyes sink lower. Even half-hard he was big, and her belly clenched.

Wasting no time, she urged him to take her place on the bed before kneeling at his feet and putting her mouth on it.

“Shit,” he hissed, driving a hand into his hand then down his face. “Ellie, you’re kiling me.”

She looked up at him through her lashes, and he growled in approval, seeming to decide something before breaking her grip on him and hauling her to her feet. He kissed her again, and she could feel his cock as it practically pulsed between them.

She still wasn’t sure she could believe it was for her, that somehow he wanted her as much as she did him, and had for almost as long.

“Condoms,” he breathed against her mouth. “I need to be inside of you.”

She froze.

“I don’t have any,” she said, dismayed.

How could she be so stupid? Why didn’t they stop on the way home? The closest bodega was six blocks, and she knew everyone who worked there. The last thing she needed was all of them knowing—

Azriel pressed a swift kiss to her lips before tangling from her.

“Where are you going?”

“To grab a condom.”

“Naked?

He flashed her a slight grimace, “Let’s agree you won’t ask where I get it from.”

“Oh Moses,” Elain said, face flushing scarlet as she listened to Nesta’s door creaking open.

Azriel was back in less than a minute, tossing an entire box onto the nightstand as he pulled open one of the foils with his teeth, using his free hand to push his damp hair, long enough to brush his cheekbones now that it wasn’t styled, out of his eyes.

“You found those distressingly fast,” Elain said, unsure if she was amused or mortified at the situation.

“Cash is predictable with his hiding spots,” Az said, eyes hooded as he stroked himself several times before rolling the condom onto his length.

“And why did you take the whole box?”

Azriel laughed softly.

“Because I have a feeling we’re going to need them.”

Without another word Az sank to his knees again, one hand lazily stroking himself to maintain his erection as he went down on her again.

This time it only last three seconds or so before he pulled back, resting one knee beside her hip to steady himself before pulling her onto his shaft in a single wet stroke. Using her left bent leg as leverage, he adjusted his angle, smirking at her low, guttural moan of pleasure.

“Good to know your g-spot is as sensitive as the rest of you,” he breathed, and she laughed and tugged him into an ambitious rhythm.

Soon the only sound was their shared breathing, and the sliding on their bodies against one another. She came first, and he followed even before the dizzying waves of pleasure ceased. He pumped lazily in and out of her for another half dozen stroke before gently extracting from her and peeling off the condom.

She curled against him, cheek pressed to chest as her hands continued to explore. Her fingers caressed his swelling pectorals and each of his abdominal muscles before lazily venturing back between his legs. He gave a hiss of pleasure as she began to work his silken shaft in earnest, and in minutes he was fully ready again.

He groaned when she snatched one of the condoms and rolled it onto him before swinging a leg over and sinking astride him.

Her third orgasm hit her only a short time later, and she sighed when he bucked up into her before going languid under her ministrations.

She leaned down to kiss him as he ran a soothing hand down her back.

“Jesus,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to hers and swirling his hips, still inside her despite his orgasm. “That was incredible.”

She purred her contentment, feeling something even more alluring than desire swell in her chest as he discarded the second condom and tugged her into his arms, tangling their legs. He still smelled like cologne, but it had mixed with her perfume, and sweat, and the scent was intoxicating. She wanted to bath in it—in him—until she died from bliss. She listened to his breathing even out, and as she was drifting off to bed, he felt his breath ruffle her hair.

“Do you like pancakes?” he murmured. “I want to make you breakfast in the morning.”

“Really?” she said, looking at him over a shoulder and melting at the warmth in his smile, less guarded now than it had been even hours before.

“I want to make breakfast for you every morning,” he breathed. “I have since I met you.”

She smiled, nestling closer to him.

“I’d love that, but I should probably be the one making you breakfast. It is your birthday, after all. You have to let me give you something other than a bj and a few orgasms for your birthday, even if it is your dirty 30.”

Az choked on a laugh.

“Say you‘ll dinner with me, then. No family or nosy friends around, just us.”

“I think the word you’re looking for it ‘date’,” she said, laughing as his cheeks flushed before realizing something. “Or is the idea just too formal for the situation? I know we did things a bit backwards...”

“We did,” he agreed, stroking her cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I want to spoil you any less. So yes a date, if you’ll still have me.”

“I will,” she said, meeting his hazel eyes before gently kissing him. “With pleasure.”

He smiled against her mouth.

“Then that’s the only birthday gift I want or need from you.”

She smiled, feeling happy to the point of bursting when he kissed her ear and closed his eyes again.

"Happy Birthday, Az.”

His hum of contentment vibrated through her back.

“The happiest,” he breathed.